Pirates! (10 page)

Her brother translated for her. ‘She says you are very young.’ He seemed to accept that girlish modesty explained my confusion, although even in a foreign tongue, the words coming from her twisted mouth had sounded more like a warning, or a judgement.

‘You pay me a very great compliment, Sir,’ I went on, ‘and you must forgive me, but your proposal comes as a shock. I did not know that you would honour me in this way. I have had no warning, as you can see. I must beg you for time to think.’

‘I understand ... ’ he said, but it was clear that he did not. The look he gave my brother was full of questioning reproach, but Joseph did not meet his eyes. He studied his glass as if the answer to that, and to much else besides, were to be found at the bottom of it.

The Brazilian’s sister laughed, her mouth jerking up on one side, her eyes glittered hard as she spoke again.

‘What does she say?’ I asked.

‘She says, “What is there to know? Men decide. Woman obey.” But
I
understand that it is perhaps not your English way. So, of course, I will give you time to make your decision. Meanwhile, I have a gift for you.’

He reached inside his coat and brought out a long flat case of sage-green calfskin and laid it on the white cloth. Then he undid the gold catch and flipped open the lid. He sat back as my brother and I leaned closer. Joseph took in a breath; his eyes lost their glaze and became greedy with wonder. I knew little of stones then, but even to my untutored eye these were magnificent. A string of perfectly matched rubies, set in finely wrought gold, graduating in size, even the smallest as big as my fingernail. They were arranged in a crescent around a pair of earrings shaped like bulging tears. The stones gleamed in the candlelight like drops of heart’s blood.

‘I put my faith in stones,’ he smiled at me across the table. ‘They do not fade, they do not rot, and they do not lose their value. They are light to carry and easy to keep close.’ He patted his pocket. ‘They will never let you down.’

I have remembered his words. I live by them now. His advice has proved valuable in ways that he never intended.

‘These are rare stones.’ He held one of the earrings up to the light. ‘Especially fine.’

‘Perfect!’ My brother put out his hand, but the Brazilian turned the jewel to me.

‘No. Not perfect. The very best rubies have a flaw in them. There! See? It is almost as if another world lies within ... ’

The stone dangled from his fingers, eclipsing the candle flame. At the centre lay a tiny fleck that made the heart glow a darker red, filling it with a deep burning fire.

He laid the earring back in the case, handling it with careful reverence and respect. These were jewels of royal provenance. They must have been destined for some Spanish queen, or a Moghul’s favourite concubine when they were snatched by this thief of the sea. Even now, I have rarely seen their equal. My brother’s eyes gleamed. Their worth would have bought half a fleet of ships.

‘That’s generous,’ he breathed. ‘Very generous indeed.’ He reached to take the case, but the Brazilian held his hand.

‘They are not for you,’ he said, his voice quiet, almost amused. ‘They are a gift to your sister.’ He swept the earrings up and handed them to me. ‘Try them.’

I fixed them in my ears with shaking fingers while he took the necklace from its case and rose from his place. He came behind my chair, and placed the necklace around my neck, fastening it there with practised deftness. His fingers rested warm and pliant on my skin, while the stones and gold circled my neck close in a cold hard collar.

‘There. Let us see how they become you.’

He bid me rise and led me to look in the mirror over the mantelpiece. He stood behind me, his long dark fingers resting on my shoulders. The necklace badged my throat like a bloody handspan. He stared at our twin reflections and frowned.

‘You have a beautiful neck and shoulders.’ His hands glided over my skin, stopping just below the angle of my jaw, moving back down again, coming to rest at the base of my throat. ‘But rubies look best against milk-white skin, as though they rest on white satin. I fear our island sun is too strong for you, my dear.’ He looked down at me with distaste. The skin on my shoulders, neck and face had changed from white to golden brown. ‘But like all stones, they respond to the warmth of the blood, rubies more than most. See how the colour deepens?’ He brought his eyes down to the level of mine. ‘They would look so very much better if your skin were to fade to its former paleness. Like alabaster ... ’ His fingers travelled my bare shoulders in long feathery strokes, as if caressing a memory. In the mirror, his eyes took on a dreamy intensity, as if by some alchemy he could make a previous version of me. ‘My sister never goes out in the day, unless heavily veiled. If you are to regain your complexion, I suggest that you follow her example.’

His sister looked at me, half sneering, half smiling, and a new note of fear crept into my heart. If I were to marry him, I would be a prisoner in this house, never allowed out, with only his sister for company. I found it hard to repress a shudder. In the mirror, the earrings shimmered like drops of blood. I put my hands up to remove them, lest their trembling betray my fear.

‘You shiver.’ The Brazilian looked down at me in surprise. ‘Not cold, surely?’

‘No, Sir. Rather the opposite. I think I may have a fever. In fact, I feel more than a little unwell.’

g

g

Chapter 14

So the gruesome evening was brought to a close. My brother was too drunk to return with us, but I insisted that I be taken home by Thomas. I waited for the carriage to be brought, my head reeling with all that had happened. The nausea that I had felt all night threatened to overwhelm me, and I was beginning to fear that I really was ill, but I could not bear to spend another minute in that house and pleaded that I would recover better back at Fountainhead with my own slaves to attend me. The Brazilian showed every concern, and was reluctant to let me go, but at length he relented. He offered to have me escorted, but I said that Thomas and I would manage well enough. Thomas was armed and I took my brother’s pistol.

I made my farewells brief, hardly able to speak, thinking all the time that I might vomit, but as soon as I was in the carriage, the motion made me feel better. I ceased from shivering and uncurled my fists. I’d been holding my hands tightly clenched and they hurt as though my nails had bitten into the palms. A huge moon had risen, casting a white light over everything. When I looked down, I thought that I had indeed cut myself. I was still holding the ruby earrings. They lay in the palms of my hands like pools of blood.

I tucked them into the purse I wore from my sash and we drove on through bars of shade cast by the trees across the shining drive. Where the shadows were darkest, I bade Thomas stop. The great birds were still there by the gibbet, tenebrous shapes within the blackness. When I took out my pistol, I thought just to fire into the air, to scare these scavengers away from the living carrion upon which they were feasting. Then I changed my target. I took aim between the iron strips that made up the top of the cage, and prayed that I would not hit metal. The gun went off with a roar. The birds rose like the Furies in a flurry of powerful wings, causing the cage to swing and the horses to plunge forward. Thomas whipped them up, in panic at what I had done, so I had no time to see if my ball had found its mark. All I could do was pray that it was so, and that I had put an end to that poor soul’s torment.

I was not afraid to be out at night, but I reloaded the gun as we drove along, so I would be ready for any danger that we might encounter. Jamaica was a lawless place, but so were the Downs at home – to drive along any lonely road was to risk an encounter with a highwayman.

We met no traffic and all was quiet when we reached the plantation. The house was in darkness as I went up the steps. I wondered that no lamp was burning and called for Phillis or Minerva to come and attend me, but was greeted by silence. I sparked a flint and lit a candle for myself and went in search of them. One or the other usually stayed in the house at night to see to our needs, and I’d expected to see both on our return as we had not planned to stay at the Brazilian’s plantation. I had no sense of foreboding. I just thought it unusual. Neglectful in a way that was not like them. Perhaps I had in mind some gentle scolding as I made my way to the kitchen.

Phillis was there, sitting at the table, perfectly still against the moonlight, like a statue carved from ironwood.

She roused herself and turned to the glow from the candle in my hand. Her face changed as she saw me, her eyes showing white in the darkness. She looked at me as if I were a ghost.

‘What’s the matter with your neck?’

My hand went to Bartholome’s rubies. I was still wearing them.

‘A gift from the Brazilian.’ I paused. ‘He wants to marry me.’

‘So Duke say.’ Her voice dropped to a murmur. ‘I thought I saw your death upon you. I thought you come back in spirit. Looks like someone cut your throat.’

She went to rise, to come to me, but her arm trembled on the table edge and she slumped back down as if the effort were too much for her. She had always seemed so strong, tireless and indomitable. I was alarmed to see this sudden weakness and immediately put the candlestick down and went to see what ailed her. She held the neck of her gown clutched in one hand. Now I could see that it was torn, split front and back, hanging in pieces, like two flags striped and stained with fresh blood.

She tried to turn away from me in a slow wincing movement, as if she were ashamed for me to see her condition.

‘Who did this to you?’ I asked. As if I could not guess.

‘Duke beat me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he likes to. Because that is what he likes to do.’ She put her hand to her head, brushing her fingers over her eyes in a gesture of weary despair. ‘Don’t bother yourself with this, Miss Nancy. It’s nothing to do with you.’

I’d be the one to decide what was, and was not, to do with me. I felt anger growing inside me, fuelled by all the things I’d seen since I came to this beautiful blighted country. I felt it bloom into fury as I brought the candle round to see what he had done. The scars on her back were not new. Fresh stripes glistened in long streaking criss-cross patterns across a back where the flesh was ruched into sharp ridged peaks, so rucked and buckled that it no longer resembled flesh at all, but looked as though she was encased in a garland of thorns.

‘Where is he?’

‘In his house.’ Phillis looked up at me. She had endured everything, never been known to cry, but now the tears spilled from her eyes. ‘He took Minerva. I tried to stop him ... ’

‘That’s why he beat you?’

‘Yes. But ain’t nothing you can do, Miss Nancy. Best not to interfere. Don’t need to make trouble for yourself. You be married soon ... ’ Her voice faltered. Her gaze flickered away as if she could no longer look at me.

I left her staring at the steady flame of the candle. I still wore the pistol, stuck in my sash, and I almost smiled as I felt the carved wooden grip snug in my hand. Nothing I could do. How many people had told me that? Well, now we would see ...

*

Duke’s woman sat squatting by the hearth, stirring a pot, her thin, worn body folded up on itself. She turned when she heard me come in, her face in the fire light as creased as a satchel. She appeared old, but she could have been young, broken past caring by a life not worth living. She took one look at me, at the pistol gripped in my hand, and bolted for the door.

My fury had grown cold now, congealing into an absolute sense of purpose as I stole up the stairs, quiet and careful as a hunting cat. Although I could have been a regiment of foot and I doubt that Duke would have heard me. He had his mind on other matters. Light spilled from the cracks between the boards of the door as I paused to listen and spy there. He was kneeling over her, his back to me. He held her trapped, laughing as she tried to get away from him. She was backed up towards the head of the bed, her breath coming short and shallow, her long limbs bent awkwardly, pinned by his hulking body, like a deer caught in the grip of a bear. I pushed at the door. It swung back silently and I stepped into the room.

She saw me before he did, her eyes growing wide, and she gasped to see me there. He gave a whistling grunt, thinking her eyes flared in fresh terror of him. He was toying with her, enjoying the power he had over her, allowing her fear to feed his lust. I grabbed him by the greasy tail of hair that trailed on to his thick white shoulders, yanking his head back as I jammed the barrel of the pistol into the base of his skull.

‘Get off her.’

His head strained to the side; the lust dulling in his small deep-set eyes.

‘Don’t turn round,’ I whispered. ‘Just do as I say.’

The mechanism of the gun was near his ear. His head jerked, registering the click as I pulled the hammer back.

He tried to speak. A dry croaking coming from his mouth.

‘Don’t speak.’

I could see Minerva, under his shoulder, her face as rigid as a mask. Once released from his weight, she moved fast. He used her movement to try to squirm away from me. His arm shot out, reaching for that murderous whip that hung in loose coils from the head of the bed. In a second it would be in his hand. I did it without even thinking. I pulled the trigger.