Chapter 19

“Marry her.”

“What?” Reese asked incredulously.

“Marry. Her,” Ruth repeated herself as she rocked the baby in her arms. Sean was out in the fields, and Tally was with Ada’s children. Ruth and the baby had been the only ones around when Reese had finally returned home. She had taken one look at Reese and ordered him to sit down while she made him something to eat. In return, he had taken Little Sean from her. While he held the baby, the events of the previous night had spilled out.

Reese handed the baby back to his mother and quickly ate his food while discussing aloud all the possible ways he could help Circe out of a precarious situation. When he finished he pushed the plate away, feeling full, but knowing he was no closer to an answer. That was when Ruth had come up with her solution. He stared at her with his mouth hanging open.

“Surely ye can’t be that shocked by the idea, Reese,” she said.

“I…we…well…I…”

“Yes?” Ruth asked patiently.

“I’m not the type of man she’s looking to marry.”

“Hmph. Did ye, or did ye not, spend the night wi’ her in yer arms?”

“I did, but we were both fully clothed and absolutely nothing happened.”

“And can ye recall the last time that happened t’ ye? Not usin’ a woman for yer pleasure?”

“Your husband needs to do something about your bluntness, Ruth.” Reese stood and the chair made a scraping sound across the floor causing the baby to scrunch his face. Before he could let loose a wail, his mother patted his back and soothed him.

“My bluntness is one of the things my man loves about me. Now, answer the question.”

“Every time has been with her,” he admitted.

“How many times has there been?” she asked curiously.

Reese remained quiet instead of answering. He took care of the dirty dish so that Ruth wouldn’t have to. “I should go and help the men.”

“Ye’re goin’ t’ leave her alone wi’ that…that…”

“Yes?”

“Tell him, Ruth. The situation has changed. She no longer has her uncle’s protection,” O’Connor said from the doorway.

“Would someone tell me something?” Reese growled in frustration.

And so Ruth slowly began talking. She told of the horrors she had witnessed as Dorothea’s maid on another island. She spoke of dark magic and dolls fashioned after people, of pins protruding from said dolls, of other things that were done to the dolls and nightly visits from the chosen male slave the doll represented. She talked about animal sacrifices and blood rituals. 

“This sounds like a child’s tale of terror,” Reese scoffed.

“It is not a tale. Everything I’ve told you happened.”

He looked at her skeptically.

“Aren’t you curious as to how not just one husband of hers passed away, but three?”

“I’m fairly certain that her last one had a hand going to the afterlife.”

“And who do you think helped him there?” O’Connor asked.

“I don’t believe Dorothea did it herself. Perhaps there was a man that harbored feelings towards her.”

“Forced feelings,” Ruth murmured.

“What was that?”

“Dorothea’s always carryin’ on an affair wi’ one of the male servants,” she said, “but it isn’t always reciprocated.”

“What are you saying? She forces herself on men? That’s ridiculous. A man can control himself, can control the situation. If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Not around Dorothea,” Ruth said sagely. “And then when things don’t go her way, or she wants t’ show off her power, she takes it out on the servants. If they’re lucky, they walk away with a few scars.”

“What about the unlucky ones?”

“They disappear as do the ones that took care o’ them.”

“You can’t mean what you’re implying.”

“Taggart, we hid in the hills of this island for years t’ get away from her. The first three months we spent every night in a different place. We preferred facing the weather and the wildlife than risking anymore time with Dorothea,” O’Connor said.

“Why? What pushed you to that extreme?”

“She did,” Dorothea said, frustrated that Reese was ignoring the severity of the situation. “She tried t’ control me because I was her maid. There were things she wanted me t’ do for her that were just awful. She didn’t know the old woman that raised me gave me a talisman that would protect me. She saw I’d be facing evil. She made it for me and told me to never take it off as long as the mistress lived.”

“And?” Reese prodded.

“I went along with Dorothea’s requests for as long as I could. Usually it was deliverin’ things, but one day I walked in on something I shouldn’t have. Up until that point, everything was merely speculation, but I witnessed…”

“Yes?”

“I saw her kill her parents.”

“Dorothea?”

“Yes. They suspected what she was involved in and confronted her. Remember, ou…her father was a missionary.”

“And?”

“Don’t make me relive the nightmare, Reese,” Ruth pleaded with tears in her eyes. The baby must have picked up on her agitation for he started fussing.

“That’s enough,” O’Connor intervened, standing near his wife and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just know that Miss Hayhurst is in danger, one way or another.”

“I’m going out to the fields.”

“I can’t go after her,” O’Connor called after him. “Dorothea’ll know we’re alive and come after us.”

Reese continued walking to the field, replaying the conversation with Ruth and O’Connor over and over in his mind. Could it be true? It sounded fantastical, like a world of evil wizards and witches, of fire breathing dragons, and knights in shining armor riding white chargers to rescue the fair maidens. That thought brought to mind a beautiful blonde with sparkling sapphire blue eyes and a body that made him ache. He pushed all of the talk of evilness and images of Circe from his mind as he entered the sugarcane field.

*     *     *

The tears had finally stopped and now Circe stood on her balcony, trying to find some peace after the morning’s events. Molly sat in a chair, dozing. The view before her was still beautiful, but today it brought her no joy. Nothing could erase the ache she felt when she thought of her uncle.

“How am I going to tell Papa?” she asked. “Will he blame me as I do? If only I had stayed with him,” she said, not for the first time.

“What was that, miss?” Molly asked sleepily, stretching.

“I was just talking to myself.”

“Oh.”

“How do they bury people here?”

“What?”

“How do they go about burying people here? You see back in England we have these large cemeteries. Some of them contain—”

Her words were cut off by a knock on her bedroom door.

“Who is it?” Circe called, her heart racing.

“Dorothea.”

“What shall I do, miss? Lord Taggart gave me strict instructions not to allow anyone in or out of the room,” Molly whispered.

“Stay quiet for the time being,” Circe replied softly. “What is it, Dorothea? I’m in no mood for company.”

“You have less than an hour to change your mind.”

“What do you mean?” she asked through the solidness of the door.

“Open this door and talk to me like a civilized person.”

“It is this or nothing.”

“Lord Erickson is on his way to take you to his home.”

“What?”

“Your uncle left everything in his will to me. That includes being in charge of you and making decisions on your behalf.”

“But, I have parents that—”

“That do not seem to know how to properly raise a daughter. I feel it is my duty to do the right thing on your behalf. Lord Erickson seems to like you for some reason, unbeknownst to me. I believe it will be good for you to be his…”

“Play thing?”

“Call it what you will.”

“What makes you believe you are such an expert in men and women? Is it because you have had three husbands? Three husbands that have all ended up dead?”

“How dare you?” Dorothea asked with tears in her voice.

“It is easier than you think. Lord Erickson is a lecher. I refuse to marry him.”

“I don’t care if you marry him or not. He is taking you away from here, and you will no longer be my concern.”

“I refuse to leave with him.”

“Nevertheless, you will. Do not make this difficult for yourself,” Dorothea said. “I will return in half an hour. Be ready.”

“Or what?” Circe asked childishly.

“You do not want to find out,” Dorothea said before she turned and stormed away.

Circe removed the key from the door, leaned down, and looked through the keyhole just in time to see Dorothea turn and disappear down the cross hall.

“I have to leave,” Circe said. She grabbed one of her smaller cases and quickly stuffed it with some of her most cherished items she brought with her to Barbados. This trip had been a mistake and now she had to find some way to escape a horrible fate. “Is there a way I can leave without being seen?” she asked Molly.

The woman looked at her worriedly and wrung her hands together. “I’m scared of the mistress.”

“I know you are, but I cannot stay here, and I refuse to allow that man to touch me. I’ll jump off my balcony if I must, just please help me. Besides, she has no knowledge that you are in here with me.”

“The mistress knows everything,” Molly said sagely.

“Please, Molly, help me.”

Finally the young woman relented. “This way,” she said and motioned for Circe to follow her. They crossed the room to a corner and the maid tapped something with her foot causing a portion of the wall to swing into the room, and the smell of dust overwhelmed them. “We must hurry. Stay close to me.”

“I will.” Circe stood aside, bag in hand, and waited while the young woman shut the door. They made their way down several passages, having to take a detour a time or two when they thought they heard or saw something. Finally, they exited the passage not very far from the servants’ entrance to the house. Once they stood outside the house, Circe found the erratic beating of her heart slowing somewhat.

“Stay off the main road. Do you know where you’ll go?”

“Bridgetown?”

“Too far. The mistress’ll find you and bring you back before you ever reach it. You must seek refuge quickly.”

“I know where I can go.”

“Don’t tell me, just go. Remember, stay away from the main road.”

“I will. Thank you for your help.”

“Please go, and be safe.”

Circe nodded and dashed across the open yard into the foliage. She said a silent prayer as she began to fight her way through the thick undergrowth in an attempt to stay hidden. She reached the clearing where the little bungalows stood. There were only a few women around watching over the children too young to work, the rest were toiling to make the plantation richer while they gained absolutely nothing. The women and children gave her funny glances when they saw the bag she carried and the harried look on her face. Circe saw no one. Her eyes were fixed on the farthest bungalow.

“Granny Mabel!” she called as she crashed through the door.

“Chil’, ye took years off my life. Years I don’t have t’ give. What’s wrong wi’ ye?”

“Oh, Granny! Uncle Robert is dead and she wants to give me to…to…”

“To who?”

“Lord Erickson,” she managed to say. Circe shuffled from foot to foot under the old woman’s glare. “He is a horrible man. Please, Granny, you have to help me. I was going to go to Bridgetown but Molly told me Dorothea would find me there. What do I do?”

“Ye can’t stay here.”

“But—”

“She’ll look for ye til she finds ye. Then she’ll beat ye somethin’ awful when she has ye.” Granny Mabel walked past her, stepped out the door, and called “Sara!”

Circe saw a little girl run to a stop outside before she heard her. 

“Yes, Granny Mabel?”

“Girl, go get yer pa and Uncle Silas. Tell ‘em it’s urgent.”

“Yes, ma’am!” The girl took off running to the field, her arms and legs pumping just as fast as they could.

Circe paced inside the little cottage, her insides churned nervously. Every noise had her running to the doorway and peeking outside to make certain Dorothea was not coming for her. The third time she went to the door, she realized that the woman would not come and do her own dirty work. She would send someone else to take care of the matter. To take care of her. To deliver her to Erickson. A part of her withered and died at the thought of that man touching her. There had been several times, even after that encounter, that Erickson had cornered her, made lewd comments, and promised things so carnal and immoral she had left his presence feeling filthy deep in her soul. Every time he promised that she would be nothing more to him than a mistress, an object for him to use over and over and over in any way he wished.

In an effort to take her mind off the situation at hand, she asked Granny Mabel, “Uncle Robert said Samson went to work at another plantation. Did Bree go with him?”

“Chil’ Samson didn’t go nowhere, but to meet his Maker.”

“What?” Circe asked dumbfounded at what the older woman said.

“I told that girl o’ mine that here and him weren’t leavin’ this island, but she didn’t listen to me.”

“Samson’s dead?” Circe’s mind spun at the implications. “Did Dorothea do it?”

“Might as well had. She had a hand in it one way or another. Said he’d be free of her and he was.”

She was so lost in thought that when two huge men stood in the doorway, she forgot that Granny Mabel had sent for them. All she could think were these two brutes were taking her back to that woman, taking her to that horrid man. Her dreams were falling apart before her, and all because she left England in an attempt to find a different life than what her parents had. Will I ever see them again? What is going to happen to me? I do not want to end up like Samson, but if Erickson gets a hold of me, no man will ever want me again. The thoughts crashed through her like waves on a stormy beach. When one ended, another presented itself. Circe could not catch her breath, could not stop the panic that rushed through her.

“No,” she whispered backing away from the two giants approaching her. “No, I…I…” Her heart started racing uncontrollably and spots danced in front of her eyes. “I…” The world around her faded to gray and then black.

*     *     *

Reese was working in the cane fields, the Caribbean sun beating down on his neck. He kept thinking about the things Ruth and O’Connor told him about Dorothea. Ruth’s answer to the situation also continued to race through his mind, mocking him, “Marry her.”

Despite the fact that he was attracted to her, she wanted nothing to do with him. Despite the fact that he spent his evenings, when he should be doing things to the house to make it more livable, attending parties and balls in order to make certain she didn’t come to harm. Despite the fact that his nights were haunted by dreams of her, keeping him from obtaining a decent night’s sleep. Circe Hayhurst shared her dreams with him, saw him as an acquaintance, perhaps even a friend, but wanted nothing else to do with him. That was just wonderful with him, because he wanted nothing more to do with her either.

“Liar,” he muttered, as he struggled against the sugarcane. He laughed aloud at that thought, garnering strange looks from those working near him.

“Ever’thin’ all right, sir?” one of them asked him.

“Yes,” he responded. He stood and straightened his aching back, twisting and stretching in an attempt to get some relief. Reese lifted his arm, and using the back of his forearm, swiped away the sweat trying to roll into his eyes. He supposed that Windcrest Plantation was indeed better than most of the others on this tiny island. At least the people here didn’t have to worry about being beaten or mistreated for not bringing in enough crop during the day, because they all brought in more than he did, even the women.

He sighed then bent over and attacked the plants once more, thoughts of a certain curvaceous beauty infiltrating his thoughts again. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, and took out his physical frustration on the plant in front of him.

“Sir, we’s not gonna get anythin’ out of that one. I think it be dead,” the man working closest to him said with a chuckle.

“I…”

“She must be somethin’ special,” the man guessed.

“Hmph,” Reese muttered, moving onto the next plant, the man’s deep laughter ringing in his ears. He worked steadily for the next few hours, looking up occasionally as men and women passed him. At this rate, it would be Twelfth Night before he finished the rows he was responsible for.

“Sir, I must speak wi’ ye,” a man’s voice interrupted him.

Reese looked up and saw Moses standing in front of him. It was difficult to read the expression on the man’s face. Concern, definitely. Anger, perhaps. Fear, without a doubt. “What is it, Moses?”

“Not here,” the man said, turned, and walked off, forcing Reese to follow him.

There was no question as to whether or not he should follow him or not, if for no other reason than mere curiosity. He jogged until he caught up to the other man, and then he matched him stride for stride. When they were clear of the others, Reese spoke up. “What’s going on, Moses?”

“I’m sorry for the girl, but I can’t risk my family, no matter what Granny Mabel says.”

“Girl? Granny Mabel? What in bloody hell are you talking about, man?”

“This,” Moses said, after having reached his small house. He pushed open the door, and held out his hand for Reese to enter ahead of him. 

Reese gave the man a curious look then stepped around him. He gazed around the small room, trying to decipher what exactly it was he was supposed to be seeing. His eyes adjusted to the dimness and that’s when he saw her. Lying on the bed, being tended to by Ada, was the woman who’d infiltrated his thoughts the majority of the day.

“What is this all about?” Reese asked.

“Ask her. I don’t want t’ know nothin’ ‘bout this,” Moses left the tiny house, and the people inside, behind.

Reese studied Circe for a long moment. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked Ada.

“Scared,” the woman answered.

“I will be fine,” Circe said, pushing herself up, and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Thank you for your help, but I cannot endanger your family.” She went to stand, but her legs gave out and she felt herself falling to the ground.