An Appetite for Violets (36 page)

The white man tried to jump away like a cowering dog. Then he was spiked through the heart and fell backwards with a thump.

I kilim, Keraf thought. Now I no afraid bilong all time.

XXXV

Keraf had waited beside his mistress’s corpse all night. He had guarded her against the evil spirits that were free to roam since the two unholy deaths had torn an opening between the living and the dead. Last night he had buried Mr Pars in the hole, and set beside him the harpoon that had taken that wicked man’s life. Beside his body he had laid out a portion of bread and meat from the dining room for Mr Pars’
kewoko,
his dead spirit’s lonely journey. After that he had watched and waited beside his dead mistress. The moon had sunk low, and in the long time before dawn he had roamed the land of dreams where spirits walk freely. His own Bapa and Ema had appeared to him and looked on him with a kindness as sustaining as sugar cane. Then, as soon as sunrise had reached his eyes, he had felt a great inrush of relief and quickly fallen asleep at his mistress’s feet. The two
kewoko,
the two dead souls, were freed from the earth. All had been done the proper way.

*   *   *

With a jolt he woke up to hear someone knocking at the front door. He jumped up, and the sight of his mistress laid out in the sun-flayed room hurt his eyes like bee stings. He felt like a man awakening from a long enchantment. He remembered Mr Pars’ devil face bellowing at him. And he remembered how the big man had fallen backwards, his body as heavy as a swollen sack of rice.

The knocks began again. In this place murder-men strangled your neck with a knotted rope if you killed a white man. He crept to the front window and saw a young woman sullenly staring about; a plump and fidgety girl. Scraping his hair back into a pigtail and shrugging his gold coat over his shoulders, he clattered down the stairs.

When he opened the door the girl talked very fast in Italy-talk, then sensing his lack of understanding, walked right past him. When Loveday followed her into the kitchen she was already cradling the baby. It was still safe in the basket by the fire where he had laid it last night.

Memories, like
kewoko
wraiths, flitted through his mind. He had saved the baby, and then returned to the river to carry Biddy back inside. That had been hard, straining his shoulder and making him pant and sweat. Yet he had done it and felt the joy of victory as he got her upstairs and laid her on her small white bed. Biddy had been breathing slowly, though her head bore a blood-matted egg-like lump, and her spirit wandered in the land of nothingness.

Now, stoking up the kitchen fire, he watched the girl set the baby to a breast as fat as a paw-paw fruit. He smiled to himself as he brewed a pot of tea. It was all true. He had conquered that devil Pars and saved his friend and this innocent child. He need never be frightened again.

Upstairs, Biddy stirred as he set down a dish of tea. Her eyes fluttered open and she touched her scalp with probing fingers, crying out when she found the lump.

‘Thank you,’ she said hoarsely.

‘Girl come feed baby now. You sit up, take tea?’

‘Where’s Mr Pars?’ she whispered.

‘He not trouble you now, Biddy. He gone.’

‘You are sure of that? What if he comes back?’

‘He dead now,’ he told her. ‘I plant him in earth where he dig hole.’

She nodded her head, though her mouth hung open and her eyes stared at nothing. He got her upright, and though she was as pale as a ghostfish, she told him all about his mistress’s terrible birthing and Mr Pars’ fearful attack on her.

‘Thank you,’ she said again. ‘You saved me.’ This time she took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

‘You my friend,’ he said, and she nodded fast, though he could see she was trying to keep her heavy tears inside her, like a sea-fresh sponge. Then her round wet eyes looked straight at him.

‘You must cover him with soil so no one sees. You will be in big trouble if anyone finds out. He told me he was going to fetch a priest to bury Her Ladyship today. Oh Lord, I don’t know what to believe any more.’ She covered her mouth as if frightened to hear her own thoughts turning to words. ‘I think we should get away from here as fast as we can.’

‘In harbour place ship go Kochee,’ he told her. ‘I go Kochee then find other ship to Batavia.’

‘Thank God for that. You must go, quick as you can.’ She squeezed his hand again and he was sorry to leave the goodness of her. She truly was a pearl in a jagging reef.

‘I ask and many ship go Dover place. P’raps you go England, my friend?’

She shook her head and winced again. ‘If I go home I don’t know how to account for it all. All them questions. Mr Pars, Her Ladyship – what do I say happened to them? How could I be innocent when the likes of them are all cold in their graves?’ A flash of hope drifted over her face, like sun through a heavy cloud. ‘Though maybe if I changed my name. Took the baby and called myself something other than Obedience Leigh. But you, you must get away as fast as you can.’

Then he fetched some bread and cheese and wine, and once she was setting to it with a good appetite, she told him to get Mr Pars’ strongbox. Inside it they found letters and a great heap of gold coins, notes, and silver.

Biddy hurriedly read the top letter. ‘Listen to this. It’s that letter arrived just after you left for Leghorn.’

Marsh Cottage

Saltford

Cheshire

30th March 1773

Humphrey,

I write with most dreadful news and forgive me I did not write sooner only I have been all shook up aforehand. Your brother Ozias was last week arrested by the constable’s men and took off to Chester gaol. Then more men come back here and turned the cottage upside down, breaking my old chest and not paying any heed to our good name. It is a disgrace, by God, for they said they were seeking papers of yours Humphrey and worse, that they bore a warrant for your arrest on account of false Letters of Credit written in Sir Geoffrey’s name. They say they have evidence of letters signed and dated after that time when the apoplexy left him not able to hold a pen, but I am sure they must be making a false case, for it cannot be true. It is that slippery John Strutt’s doing, I am sure of it, for he has chased admiration ever since you gave him your position. They have now took away all your letters written to Ozias and said that all your correspondence had been secretly directed to the constable’s men since some months back.

Thanks to God yesterday your brother was restored to me, and though still weak, he will mend I pray. Now Humphrey, I beg you most urgently to come home and prove your innocence to these wrongheaded men for ’tis all a pack of the devil’s lies.

Humphrey, do write to me this very day and tell me when you may arrive to cleanse our family’s name of this injustice.

Your sister-in-law and friend,

Martha Pars

‘So he was about to be caught after all,’ Biddy said. ‘Maybe that’s why he – took his chance last night.’ She shuffled through more papers, her face creased with disgust. ‘Here he writes of Lady Carinna having run off with the money. Ah, and look at this –’ she picked up a sheet in a neatly scribed hand ‘– “that wanton Biddy Leigh has a great belly from her lewd tricks.” And here, written only yesterday, “On Easter Saturday poor Biddy died in her travails.” How damned obliging of me. Mr Loveday, they make me sick. Throw them in the fire if you would.’

When Loveday returned from feeding the fire she was emptying the rest of the strongbox. Just touching the metal coins seemed to revive her.

‘You must take half of it,’ she said forcefully, counting two vast heaps of coins. ‘I’m not leaving it here. Besides, we are owed our wages and more.’

To him the great heap of metal looked like chains that would weigh him down like a ship at anchor. ‘That too much danger for me,’ he told her. But he did hide four gold coins in his breeches for luck, and stuffed his pockets with small silver and copper coins.

‘You rest now,’ he was saying to her, when the sound of footsteps on gravel made them both jump like startled hares. The footsteps disappeared around the back of the house and they heard someone rapping quietly at the back door. He crept to the window and silently peered down. The small dark head of a poorly dressed boy was in view.

‘Message boy,’ he said, and puffed out his cheeks in relief to see no murder-men waiting.

Down in the kitchen the baby’s nurse ignored Loveday as she sat with the baby stretched across her shoulder, patting its tiny back. He took two letters from the boy and told him to wait. Then once he had spied the writing on the top one he rushed back upstairs to Biddy.

‘Look, Jesmire’s hand. I send it from Leghorn. Says she not coming back.’

It was addressed to Mr Pars, but Biddy opened it and read it quickly.

‘She expects her wages. And she’s sending the carriage back with the coachman. Now that could throw us in hot water.’ She dropped the letter in her lap and stared up at the ceiling. ‘Let me think.’ At last she said, ‘Can you fetch me some ink and paper, Mr Loveday?’ Then together they concocted a letter, she hunched up in bed, writing with scowling concentration, while Loveday uttered fancy phrases from all the letters he had slit in secret. When she had wafted it back and forth to dry the ink, they both read what had been written:

Villa Ombrosa

11th April 1771

Dear Miss Jesmire,

I do most heartily congratulate you on obtaining a most suitable position and offer you every good wish for success in the future. Enclosed is a ten guinea piece in a twist of paper, as full and final recompense for your services. As to the carriage, you are at liberty to use it as you will, for Her Ladyship, having satisfactorily delivered her burden, has taken up the offer of travelling with an English family back to Dover. Loveday having now returned at my lady’s summons, and having nothing to detain us further, we shall therefore close up the villa at the soonest opportunity and make haste to join our new companions.

Your servant,

Humphrey Pars

(Mr Pars does give his compliments but on account of an accident his right hand is badly bruised at present and he has asked me to reply to your letter on his behalf while he does dictate it. Biddy Leigh)

‘That very smart letter,’ he told Biddy. ‘She never come here again, she never ask question.’

‘I hope not. Can you take it down to the messenger and tell him to take special care?’ She had recovered her usual pink colour at last and was moving a little more quickly.

It was only when he returned that he remembered whose hand it was had written the second letter and felt his heart gallop as Biddy broke the seal and began to read it out loud.

7th April 1773

Dearest Sis,

I write of a most extraordinary surprise, dear girl, namely that at this moment I wait in Marseilles for a boat to Italy—

Biddy slapped the letter down on the bedclothes. ‘Marseilles! How can that be?’ Then she snatched it up again and read it out loud very fast and breathlessly.

—Yes, sister, I shall be with you in four days, as the captain tells me we will dock in Leghorn harbour on Sunday after noon and I shall then make all haste and reckon to see you at eventide, Easter Sunday—

‘Lord God in Heaven, Kitt Tyrone is on his way!’ Biddy threw her head back upon the bolster and cringed at the pain she provoked. ‘Is it not Easter Sunday today? He will be here any hour. We may well hang for this.’ She began to rise from the bed, trying to move fast but was still very stiff in her limbs.

‘You go now? Back to England?’ he asked.

‘Maybe.’ Then clutching her hand to her head she floundered back down on the bed. ‘God help me. I cannot think clear at all. Only do one thing for me, friend.’

He gave a little bow.

‘Let me at least be easy about you.’ She looked at him with those pale round eyes he had once been so fearful of. White men’s eyes can pierce your soul, the elders of Lamahona had said. It was true, he thought, but instead of destruction, Biddy’s gaze fixed upon him with a stern love that he had to obey. ‘I beg you, go now. I will follow soon. It is better we do not travel together.’

*   *   *

He found the horse still tied to the tree by the gates. He led it to the river to drink, and felt the hurry and bustle of the water agitate his being. The right time to leave had finally come, and from now on he had to be like that river, never resting, never sleeping. The sun was dropping in the sky; noon had passed, and Mr Kitt’s arrival was getting ever closer. Biddy had given him some drab workmen’s clothes and a low-fitting straw hat. He felt the shining luck of the four gold coins protecting him as he mounted the horse and it set off back towards the coast.