Convinced that a defeated Nicholas had fled Roseau a week ago, I went to the Old Market without fear. Taking my time, I palmed yams and yellow squashes in a cart of a woman in a bright white turban.
I didn’t realize I was hungry until the scent of cooked meat, a savory squab, surrounded me, made my mouth to water. Then I became sad wondering about Mrs. Randolph, and if she missed cooking for us. I knew she loved the daylong roasting of wild onions and partridge for Cells’s parties. With him going back to his life in Europe, the Hermitage wouldn’t see a big celebration, not for a long time.
“The plantains are nice, miss, but try the callaloo. Make coconut callaloo, throw in some fresh crab,” the seller said.
The big green leaves, callaloo leaves of the taro root, looked lush and the soup she talked of would be hearty, but my eyes were drawn to the fine hat she wore. Delicate folds of satin made the base crowned with dried flowers and dainty berries a regal display.
“Miss, you want some callaloo?”
“Your hat is lovely.”
The woman touched her head. “My pouf? Thank you. Try the vendor in the middle. The milliners make pretty ones. Good for you.”
Her gaze locked with mine. An unspoken solidarity passed between us. I didn’t need to ask her story or share mine. She was free like me.
Almost curtsying, I smiled and headed to the milliners.
Two women set out their wares on a table formed of boards resting upon old dray axles that were hewed from strong neem. In Montserrat, Pa harvested that wood for his carts, bragging the heavy grains built the best foundations.
With Pa still trying to sway my ma, the foundation I wanted to create here in Roseau was at risk. Mamaí couldn’t return with him, but Pa kept coming and courting his Betty. She’d yet to answer his beggin’.
“You like what you see?” The older of the women smiled, and I pushed my fretting to the back of my mind. Lifting a bonnet, a white satin one with a shiny bow, I studied its beauty. It was art, as fine as a painting.
“Miss Doll, why not try the straw hat with the jade feather? It would go well with your eyes.”
I peered over my shoulder at Captain Thomas. “Hello, sir. Glad to see you.”
His smile turned a little wicked. “I like being seen.”
White shirt, emerald-green waistcoat, and black pantaloons was his garb today. “What are you looking for, Miss Doll?”
Tugging my pale-yellow tunic by the corset strings that felt snugger than I remembered, I sighed. “I’m on the hunt for a perfect hat.”
“Hmmm.” He folded his arms behind his back, puffing up his broad chest. “That’s an important decision.” He hovered over the table, poking and tapping until he picked up a straw one and put it on my head, atop my braided chignon. “Yes, this would be lovely on you.”
The brim felt too pointed, offering no shade for my eyes. I had to squint up at the captain.
I didn’t like that.
Made me feel as if I were angling for something. I wasn’t.
Returning the hat, I studied the other selections.
His lips pursed. “Is a tricorn to your liking?”
“No. No tricorn.” I walked away from the stand.
He caught up to me. “Miss Doll?”
Suddenly feeling winded, I rubbed my brow. “You did me a great favor at Mr. Bates’s. I’m in your debt.”
“That’s a dangerous place to be for a woman who knows numbers.” His broadening smile gave me comfort. “Think nothing of it. I have a weakness for justice and light eyes.”
He teased and I wanted to be teased.
“Let me show you Roseau.” He placed my palm on his arm with no hesitation of being out in the open showing affection, putting my dark hand in his pale one.
The captain was good-natured, waving here, tipping his hat there. He knew a lot of people in this city. That might be helpful for a woman trying to conquer a new world.
“Captain—”
“It’s Thomas, Mr. Joseph Thomas. Upon occasion, I’m a captain of a sloop, the Mary, of which I own a portion.”
“The boat with the blue pole has a name?”
“Yes. My Proud Mary. My Bonnie Mary for my Irish friends.”
Pocléimnigh pals? Well, Thomas was nice and a talker.
Walking through the Old Market, his boot heels clacked on the cobbles. We stopped at the well.
“Is the water poisoned? No one seems to ever drink.”
“Well,” he whispered in my ear, “they put the gallows near the well sometimes. Some think the well holds the pain of death, the suffering of those killed here.”
I peered down the well. It seemed bottomless and black. Thomas lobbed a pebble. Long seconds passed before I heard a plop into the well water. “The hole of all that suffering is deep. I think I understand.”
He clasped my arm and steered me away. “You shouldn’t have to, Doll. Not at all. I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Doll. Foden was a very good man.”
“The way you say that, it was as if I was his widow. I was his housekeeper and friend.”
“Oh. Many women in your position look for benefactors.”
“Is that a fancy way of saying I’m a whore?”
“Umm. No.”
“You men are terrible. You can’t accept that two people can be friends or that a good man like him can look at me as anything other than a wench.”
I glared at Thomas and the other women, planter women, passing by and staring at my uncovered hair. “I’m not ignorant about colored women looking for white men to take them far. But I’m free, I can get there on my own.”
He took off his hat, slammed it to his chest, and stepped into my path. “I . . . I am sorry. A thousand pardons. May I make amends by walking you home to Hanover Street? Give a fellow a chance.”
The furry brows above his sea-blue eyes wriggled at me.
I yielded a little and offered a nod. “Fine. But answer questions as we do.”
“Hmmm. Sort of a confession? I am trained in the law and evasion.”
“You’re honest. I’ll give that to you. How do you own part of a boat?”
He gripped his jacket by the brass buttons. “I dabble. Dabbling is a costly enterprise. I get investors to support my dabbling.”
“So you’re looking for white men to take you far.”
His mouth fell open, and I laughed.
“I wouldn’t put it—” Thomas looked back then led me across the street.
“What? What is the matter?”
“The younger Kirwan. He hasn’t left. Made quite a stir in the tavern last night. He’s dangerous, but you know this.”
My feet felt mired in place. “I thought he was gone. I don’t want to think of him ever.”
I pulled away, wanting to turn and search and hide, but Thomas blocked my retreat. “Nothing will hurt you. You deserve peace. I’ll make sure of it.”
Those large eyes of his saw me, saw me as the woman I was—a survivor of the worst, not damaged goods, something worthy to be protected.
“Kirwan probably won’t leave Roseau until your father goes. Be careful.”
“I’m free. I can’t act as if I’m a captive.”
“I agree, ma’am.” His smile returned, dissolving the tension in his high cheeks. “Let’s walk to the church. It will give you time to come up with more questions.”
Not ready to be home, I wrapped my palm about his arm. “Tell me of the Coxalls. My daughter Lizzy has caught the son’s eye.”
“Well, John Coxall is the heir to the Coxall fortune. The family owns a successful merchant practice. Their business rivals Tuites of Nevis.”
“The Tuites are powerful. They brought priests to Montserrat and made God meet everyone in the woods.”
Thomas chuckled. At the church he tugged the locked gate. “Notre Dame du Bon Port is glorious.”
“I love this church. The stone tile floor and beautiful stained-glass windows. If it was allowed, my Lizzy should marry Coxall here. Thomas, I want her protected with a contract. Can you help me with that?”
“I could if you answer a question for me.”
Lifting my chin, I braced for the worst. “Yes.”
“You’re beautiful and sad. If not for Foden, whose love are you mourning?”
“Sir, you can tell all that from a walk?”
“You’re forgetting I held you on the docks. You curled into me like you missed a man’s touch. Yes, I can tell a lot by listening and looking, caressing.”
“I did no such thing. I—”
The smug look on his face. He baited me, and I’d given him this power. “I think I can walk back by myself.”
“Now, Miss Doll—”
“Miss Kirwan to you.”
“No, not formalities. You have my curiosity spinning.”
“Then be like a cooper’s hoop and keep rolling down the road. Don’t stop till you hit the water.”
“That’s harsh, Miss Kirwan. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
I started down Virgin Lane.
“I can noodle out a marriage contract for your daughter and negotiate on your behalf. I’ll personally ensure it to be complete and have the protections a freewoman needs.”
I turn to him. “How much?”
“Another walk on the day of my choosing?”
The legal fees for Brayshaw and Bates were hefty. I needed to save my coins for Lizzy’s dowry and our living expenses until I decided what to do to earn money.
Thomas’s wide eyes seemed to beg. Nothing wrong with a man who can humble himself. We took our time walking to Hanover Street. He showed me more vendors, had me laughing and sampling buns filled with saucy saltfish until well into the evening. Such a pleasant fellow, this Thomas. His beggin’ wasn’t bad. It could sway me if I wanted to be swayed.
Finally, we arrived at my rented house. “Well, Miss Doll.”
“I accept your offer . . . for the contract.”
It took a second for a grin to pop onto his pursed lips. Was he looking for a different answer or had he forgotten what he’d asked?
Thomas nodded with vigor. “My pleasure to offer you my free legal services. I’ll have the first draft by the end of next week. Night, Miss Kirwan.”
He tipped his hat, whistled, and went away.
Shaking my head, I went inside. Edward was on the floor playing with the pull toy of a carved lion. Kitty sat on the sofa, braiding Charlotte’s hair. The fragrance of coconut pomade filled the room. Lizzy was in the corner, a book in her lap.
My Lizzy read. Lizzy was a reader. Pa did right by her.
When I moved closer, I saw her eyes were puffy.
“Lizzy, what is it? What has happened?”
“Grandpa left. He took my pa. They’re gone for good.”
I turned to Kitty. “What?”
“Mama sent Pa away.”
Mamaí?
Lizzy leapt out of chair. “She’s staying ’cause of you. Now, I have to too.”
She tore away and ran up the stairs.
Though I wanted to gloat, I couldn’t. It would hurt my daughter. I’d hurt her enough. “Lizzy, stop right there.”
She did and leaned over the landing.
“Dry your eyes. I told you I’d take care of things. I’m working on a contract for you and your young man. Once it’s negotiated, you’ll start your own household.”
“You’re going to let me go?”
“I’ll hold none of you back if I think you’re ready. You’re ready, ready to make every mistake a wife can afford. That contract will be done. I freed you. I won’t let you be unprotected.”
Lizzy covered her mouth. I could see her crying harder.
She launched from the steps and hugged me. It was a big embrace, the biggest since our reunion, but this love was because I gave in to her.
Nothing but time could fix us. I hugged her back and accepted the love she offered. I prayed this headstrong girl wasn’t making a Dolly-sized mistake.