The Fancy (12 page)

the dog ran to her side, quieting.

Even while her heart was pounding so hard it

hampered her breathing, she cast her eyes

downward and grabbed the bridle of the mule,

leading it, the cart and Moose toward their barn;

leaving Quinton to see what Bancmen’s visit was

about.

Approaching the other man with an open

expression, Quinton greeted him, “Afternoon, your

mother, your wife – I hope al is wel ?” He asked,

hoping they were the reason for his visit – it was not

to be so.

“Al is wel – and you? I see the fancy has fared

wel in your care. From what I hear about town, she

has come to be of great service to you, as wel those

you’ve treated.”

“Yes, you heard correctly, come in.” Quinton

invited him, making his way to the front door, now on

guard; if his family was not in need of him, then why

the visit? He led him down the hal toward his favorite

room, gesturing toward a seat.

“Coffee? Tea? Scotch?”

“Em, the latter, yes.”

Quinton went about fixing him a drink; his

actions did not escape Bancmen’s notice, “Should

not the wench see to such matters?” He inquired.

“She is occupied elsewhere.” Quinton returned,

handing him a drink; he took one himself with a

feeling he would need it.

Both men sat comfortably before the matter

was brought out into the open. “From concerns

circulating, I have a feeling I have done you no favor

offering the fancy as a gift.”

“I beg to disagree – she has assisted me wel .”

Bancmen’s smile was laced with lechery, “Of

that I am certain; and that is both your blessing and

your curse I fear.”

Quinton sat silently a moment then took a sip,

his eyes on the other man before he spoke, “What

exactly do you mean?”

“I mean, were you in the South, on your own

land, your own plantation – you could do as you

wanted. Here, within this smal community of

Christians, they see things differently – your living

arrangements with the wench – has been duly noted

and brought to my attention, as wel the church’s, I’ve

come to offer suggestions that may put their minds

at ease.”

“Suggestions?” Quinton tasted the notion

before him, and already found that he would not like

any such suggestions, but had little choice but to

hear them out, “Such as?”

“Take in a wife for yourself, many here are

available and would be pleased with your intentions;

for instance, Clarice McKinney.”

Without hesitation, his return cancel ed that

idea, “Unfortunately, my work, my studies, research

that I do; a wife would find herself sorely neglected –

I would just as soon not put her, or any other, through

it. I’m afraid a bachelor is what I shal remain.”

“In that case, find a place for the wench – offer

her to someone as a servant; a nursemaid to their

children; or – if you wish, I wil take her back – I’m

certain you wil have gotten your fil .”

“Gotten my fil ? Are you suggesting that I have

somehow compromised my standing in this

community? That I have somehow indulged in an act

of indecency with my servant? Because if this is

what you are suggesting, I assure you – you are

wrong. Suga, during her entire stay here – has been

nothing more to me, than my servant; that being, a

maid, cook and due to my training, nurse to those I

treat.”

Bancmen gave him a look that clearly said he

must be mad if he thought he could get away with

such a claim.

No man in his right mind with such a ‘gift’ could

exist in such close proximity without relieving himself

of that plague in which many single men suffered. A

mistress, a prostitute, a bedwench –or- a wife – one

or al , was needed for any ‘normal’ man, young and

old and most certainly in his age and prime - to think

otherwise was absurd; Bancmen reared back

bursting into laughter.

“You obviously find my claim funny, perhaps,

untrue?” Quinton questioned.

His peripheral caught Suga’s shadow; he knew

that she must have come in through the kitchen and

now stood eavesdropping, no doubt concerned over

her fate.

“Surely you don’t expect me to go back and

report such a claim as that? And should they ask for

proof? I know what condition the fancy was in when I

offered her to you – you expect me to believe that

she is stil the same? Al of this time? Intact?”

“I have no knowledge of what honor holds you,

but I assure you, my word – is sound, steadfast –

and wil stand before any with the dignity I have

offered it, that includes the church.”

Henry could not believe his ears, “Are you

saying to me, should they demand proof, there is

proof to be given?”

“That is exactly what I am saying.”

They stared in silence.

Quinton had no clue as to where this would al

lead. What he did know – was that somehow, he

must come out of it, with Suga remaining, as his. He

gave his word to her; any other outcome was out of

question as far as he was concerned. As he sat, he

could also see a myriad of thoughts and possibilities

coursing through his opposition’s mind – and knew

immediately what he must be thinking, such an idea

was dangerous to his very existence. He could be

hung, drawn and quartered if anyone thought that he

preferred another man.

“What sort of man, in possession of the gift I

have given you, can have her to himself,

unobstructed and not -
have
her?”

Quinton could not but help turning red at the

accusation.

“How dare you, come into my home, as I am a

man of God, and accuse me of anything indecent?

Which is what I believe you are inferring. .”

“Even a man of God, wil find himself tempted

with such a gift! And certainly beyond endurance in

the length of time she has been in your possession –

you tel me, how else can this be?” Quinton hated

what he must say, especial y with the knowledge that

Suga, stood by, listening.

“While I find slavery an injustice to fel ow man;

that does not mean that I am open to their women;

we each have been given our own. My preference, is

for – my own. When my need arises, I seek out that

which offers me the greater thril ; alabaster skin, hair

of silk, eyes of blue.” Quinton fol owed his preference

with a look that clearly expressed lust. “Suga, is my

servant, cook, maid – nurse. In exchange for a job

wel done, she receives clothing, food, shelter and

my protection.”

Bancmen

sat

back

sighing,

Quinton’s

explanation satisfied him, his claim was not unheard

of, he knew of such men – and he also knew of the

others.

“My God, she is wasted with you – return her

that I might put her to better use. If she is intact as

you claim, I wil pay for her once more, I wil offer you

a price. You can hire yourself a male servant, one to

do al that you’ve started with her. Thus, your troubles

wil be over.”

“To start anew? I haven’t the time, or the wil .

My time is precious; she is more valuable now, for

what she knows, than what you can offer me in

exchange. I assure you, I am not in need of coin.”

“As talk is certainly brewing, you wil lose her

one way, or another and must start anew, sel her

back to me-…”

“So you can auction her to the greater bidder?”

“It is what I do.” Bancmen blatantly

acknowledged.

“Is this not a free state?”

“Tis only a formality – there are – private

auctions – even here, in this – free state.”

Quinton came to his feet.

“Report what I’ve given you. She is a servant;

untouched. This can be proven. I wil
not
start anew; I

wil remain in possession as her employer. Go, tel

them.”

Henry stood, in clear disbelief once more.

“Save yourself the trouble – give her up.”

“I have said al there is – if there is anything

more to be discussed, you know where to find me.”

“Al this, over a slave?” Bancmen pressed.

“I believe I’ve covered her increased value

enough.” Quinton left it at that.

“Very wel – I tried.”

“So you have.” Quinton started directing him

towards the door; he knew that Suga had gone,

aware they’d concluded their discussion.

With their guest departed, the door bolted

behind him, Quinton wondered what now? What

next? What might he need to disclose in order to win

the battle in keeping Suga? Turning, he made his

way toward the kitchen – hoping for some miracle or

fix.

He stood across the room from her, in her calm

way of dealing with matters, she started first, “We

bes’ hurry wit’ what we was doin’-…”

“We should continue where we left off…”

Quinton stopped her immediately to correct her.

“I ain’t got no need for such-…”

“We should continue – where we – left off…”

Quinton pressed, “Repeat it.”

Suga’s gaze was gentle, resigned.

“You wil repeat it as I’ve instructed, now, speak

as I’ve corrected.” He ordered.

Suga, paused, looked down, swal owed and

then up at him, and spoke as he would have her,

slowly, careful y, with her thoughts on the matter, “I

understand, we should continue where we left off, I

would have – things – as you wil – need them –

when I - am gone.”

Heat stole over Quinton, it lit within his entire

body hearing her properly spoken words, especial y

those,
when I am gone
. One moment the table stood

between them and the next, he was there, his arms

tight around her, crushing her against his body. It

took al of his wil not kiss her, devour her mouth as

he longed to; he was too weak, once he started, he

knew it would be hel to stop; so he held on to her,

vowing passionately,

“I beg you, believe me – I wil do al in my power

to hold you with me always; I gave you my word and

I-…”

Suga tried to push away to tel him how things

would now go, but he wouldn’t turn her loose, having

little choice, she relaxed against him, her head

pressed against his chest, listening to the rapid

beating of his heart, “I know you wanna keep

yo’word, but they ain’t gone let you – won’t be long

now. I guess I – shud’ah let you have me-…”

“Suga…” Quinton trailed off, wishing to

promise her so much more, but how could he be

certain that he would deliver? What if she was right,

what if he lost this battle and lost her? He knew what

he had to do, it would be a gamble, but it was one he

was ready to take – because the reward at the end,

was what he wanted most – he knew that now; and

because she was preparing herself for the chance,

he may not win – he would keep the promise to

himself until he could be sure of delivering, for now

anyway. He repeated her name once more, “Suga…

you have to trust me – say that you trust me?”

Her arms rose to wrap around him, wanting to

hug him back; standing so close, told her a lot about

what she felt for him; she’d broken her mother’s first

rule, never have feelings in your heart for your white

owner; certainly not the feelings she had, her mother

said, it would seal the promise of a broken heart, to

be broken, over and over again. She brought them

back, trying to break away from him as wel .

Quinton felt his innards squeeze to discomfort,

“Suga – I’l do my utmost, I wil …”

“We got – things t’do – no time fo’foolishness,

c’mo.”

She pushed back until he had no choice but to

release her. Quinton swal owed the lump in his

throat, fol owing her out the door, his arms feeling

heavy, yet empty. He’d never in his life had met a

woman like Suga – everything in him – wanted her.

No matter how risky the deed, he would disclose his

identity – once they knew, the gamble would be

made, they would mock him, humiliate him or punish

him for what he was.

It was not overly stated that those of the new

colonies

hated

the

nobility.

Peasants

and

commoners were more than welcome to join them in

the new land to escape the very poverty they