“Mama,” Charlotte said, holding me, “Frances says that Crissy is safe with them.”
My heart started beating again. “She was supposed to come straight here.”
“The blockades. The Americans and the British are fighting again. The British have frigates patrolling. They want to make sure the war that began in 1812 doesn’t spread to the colonies.”
“Grama, I love your hats.” Little Anna ran back into my big closet. My new house on Robb Street provided infinite places to hide.
I sat on the edge of my four-poster bed draped in ivory linen and fine lace curtains almost as smooth as mossie netting.
I picked up Frances’s letter. Her squiggles were always neat. I made out words like love. Mama. Crissy. I scrunched it up and pulled it to my chest. “Why do the Americans have to pick a fight now? They already won their freedom in seventy-six.”
“Papa Cells says it’s a bunch of nothing about restricting trade. My Mr. Fullarton, however, says the Americans are tired of their soldiers being impressed into the Royal Navy. It’s almost the same as enslavement. The British soldiers abduct the Americans and force them to labor on frigates.”
“Oh? They stop the transport of Africans and now they enslave Americans.”
“Mama, you own slaves. Papa Cells owns slaves. How is it different? Is it different? You told me what you lived through, but you own scores of people who aren’t free.”
“I can’t stop enslavement. I can rail against it and protest it, but it doesn’t stop these cruel planters from buying slaves. Between me and the Entertainment Society, we women have more than enough money to buy every enslaved person in Demerara to keep them from abuse. Any time I can buy a woman or a girl, I do. I know I’ve saved her.”
“Wish the world would change, Mama.”
I patted my mattress for her to sit. I put an arm about her.
Anna ran out with one of my poufs, one Thomas had bought me in the first few weeks of my being free. I took it from her and fingered the white satin.
“I wish it would, too. Miss Rebecca and I buy the enslaved when a plantation goes under. It’s all we can do until men change laws.”
Anna popped out and modeled another hat; this one was black with a white banding. Her little gown of blue twirled when she spun. I think the hat helped her keep her balance.
I thought of my youngest. “Crissy hated being away. Miss Smith, the headmistress, said she was doing well.”
“It’s far, Mama. Across the sea is far.”
“Well, now she’ll be in Grenada. I worried about your sister, Ann, marrying Garraway, but they seem to be doing well. Maybe between her, Mamaí, and Frances, the three of them can speak some sense into Crissy. Then when the blockades are done, she’ll come here and stay in that bedroom I made for her. Elizabeth loves hers. The war prevented her from enrolling at Kensington House.”
Charlotte nodded her head. “She has tutors like I did. I didn’t turn out badly.”
“You are the best. And my Elizabeth is brilliant. She’s already figuring out ways to improve our inventory accounting.”
She straightened another of my hats on Anna. This one was straw with a wide brim decorated with rust-colored flowers made of silk and crowned with orange, white, and blue feathers. My favorite hat.
Beaming, she hugged her niece. “All your daughters and sons and grands are smart.”
“If ever you want one, I made a bedroom for you, too. This is my dream home. Wait until I’m finished with the cistern to decorate my yard.”
Her finger splayed my curls, which had started to silver. “Papa Cells will be here tonight.”
“As will Rebecca Ritchie and the entire Entertainment Society. Your papa Cells won’t know what to do with himself.”
She offered me a sly eye, but I was unmoved. “He’ll do fine, even if I ignore him.”
“Mama.” My daughter looked at me like I was lying about not caring what that man did. Or who enjoyed his humor.
Well, I was lying.
There would always be a thing between Cells and me, and as much as I only wanted it to be our shared daughters and grands, I knew there was more, just wasn’t ready to admit it.
In my formal dining room with white trim and molding and rose-painted walls, my godson William King pushed away from my large oval table and lifted his glass.
He waited for my server to place a fresh platter of yams in the center near a shiny candelabra that Cells gave to me as a gift for my new house.
“Ma’am, Mrs. Thomas, I need to ask you a question.”
I started to pick up my glass of bubbling Sourire de Reims Rosé. “Young King, you have the floor.”
“I know I was quite upset getting marooned in Demerara because of the blockades, but there are hidden blessings.”
“You sound very serious,” I said and fingered my glass.
Cells looked particularly guilty in his indigo-blue waistcoat and black tailcoat and ridiculously wide cravat. He knew something.
“Mrs. Thomas, I’d like your permission.” He let out a long sigh. “I wish to marry Elizabeth. May I have her hand?”
I fell back against the stiles of my mahogany chair.
Didn’t see that coming.
Rebecca, who’d moved closer to Robb Street to sup at my table, giggled and emptied her goblet. “I knew it. Charlotte, did you know?”
My daughter shook her head.
I believed her. Lying wasn’t for her, and anything that wasn’t Kensington Plantation or our store or her nieces, she didn’t much notice. Her husband didn’t occupy her time. They weren’t happy. Maybe she should use that bedroom I made for her.
The door to the dining room swung open and in came Josephy. He looked tired but he’d had the decency to go up to his room and freshen up. The boy had put on a clean shirt and breeches. “Did I miss it?”
William looked his way with his eyes stretched wide. “I’m asking now.”
“Oh.” Josephy took a seat next to Cells and began filling his plate with crusty pigeon pie, salted cod, yams and garlic, then dove into the compote of baked mangos. He waved as he started eating. “Continue, sir.”
My son’s antic made my shy Elizabeth Penner, my beloved grandniece, my little damfo, cover her face. A blush turned her brown cheeks the color of my pink champagne. When she first came to live with me after losing Ella and Sally, I took her on walks along the shore and told her that good things would be in her life. All the losses she’d endured would never stop her. We promised to be special friends, my damfo.
If this was to be, I’d be happy.
My son gobbled and drank the champagne Cells poured him. “Come on, King, tell my mother how much you love Elizabeth and would die without her.”
My godson coughed. “You just did.”
I smothered a laugh. Both Elizabeth and William were reserved. I didn’t see this working.
Then he knelt and took her hand. “What he said.” He bent his head and kissed my niece’s hand like she was pie and yams and champagne.
Her face was cherry red. “Yes.”
I’d come to love Elizabeth’s presence in my house, loved the way she was a critical thinker.
Thomas King and I had been close all these years. He’d helped my business grow. Now the son of a former slave trader was going to marry the daughter of a former slave.
Cells, who kept barging his way to my table, stood. “To the happy young couple. I’ve known your father, William, a long time, and Elizabeth, I’ve grown to know you these past three years. You’re bright and sweet, and King is damn lucky.”
William rose and brought her hand to his chest. Elizabeth grinned. “We say tarn, Uncle Cells.”
Could I smirk at tarn and fume at Elizabeth’s endearment of uncle? Cells and I weren’t married. I could barely stand him, though I saw him two or three times a week, once with Charlotte, then again with Catharina and Simon. Then he’d show up with one of my vendors or when Lieutenant Governor Codd managed an invitation.
I tapped my knife on my glass. “Before this goes any further, I have a few questions.”
Keeping Elizabeth’s fingers, William finally looked at me. “Yes, ma’am.”
“What does your father think? He’s liberal and changed, but England is still England, unless you intend to stay in Demerara. Mixing of races in London—”
“Is not novel. Many planters are sending their daughters for education. Many are marrying there. We won’t be the only ones. We’re ready to take the challenge. A love like ours can’t be denied.”
Cells glanced at me. “He’s right. Tarn right.”
“We”—William looked to Elizabeth—“we’ll live mostly in London, but we’ll visit here as often as possible. Working on investments for my father between here and Trinidad had me frustrated. Then the simplest conversations with this one intrigued me. I think I loved her when she lent me a stick of charcoal. It was the best borrow.”
“Sir, you actually still owe me. My aunt sells them in her store for three shillings.”
He took a ring from his pocket. “Perhaps this will settle my debt.”
The band of gold looked old and set with a small diamond. Thomas King did approve. That had to come by post. Letters were the only things getting through the British navy.
Rebecca signaled one of my servers. “I think we need another bottle of Sourire de Reims Rosé.”
“This was the last, Rebecca. Nasty blockade. We will have to settle for Rosé de Saignée. It’s just as good.”
Cells looked amused.
Josephy, too.
I finished my glass. I did like my table full. My house on Robb Street should always be like this. Then I grew sad, for it wouldn’t. The children and grandchildren would keep growing up and leaving. I’d enjoy them for as long as I could, even if I had to share with Cells.