Chapter Thirty

Carlton’s eyes grew so large, the blue seemed to overwhelm the brown of his sun-tanned complexion. “Miss Hannah Winstead! Oh, aye, of course she is! Looking exactly like her pa, she is!”

“You knew my father?”

“Certainly, ma’am. Not well, but I knew the overseers at Highland right well. I was a young man when your father passed on, but all the overseers spoke high of him.”

“I hope this isn’t too great an imposition,” Hannah said, “but do you think you might get this letter to whoever is the head overseer at Highland now?”

“Aye, we meet every month. ’Tis a two-hour ride from Palm Grove to Highland, but if the overseers don’t meet regular to set terms and such, it could sow difficulties with the freedmen.”

“The freedmen?”

“P’haps you didn’t know, ma’am, the slaves were freed on this island three years ago. They now work for wages, and the plantations must be careful to keep the wages equal throughout the island.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. Slavery is an abomination, and the sooner it’s eradicated throughout the world, the better.”

“P’haps, ma’am, but the freedmen now have to care for their own families, and they’re accustomed to depending on the owners.”

Hannah didn’t want to be drawn into a discussion of plantation practices but she could not help saying, “Perhaps their wages are too low.”

Carlton shrugged. “Mayhap they are. But the owners don’t like their profits cut into, and the sugar market has fallen in recent years.”

After bidding Gertrude and Carlton farewell, Hannah set off to post her remaining letters. She thought of Mr. Wilson and wondered what he would say about the working conditions of the newly freed black men and women. He had said the world has always had the haves and the have-nots, but why must that be true? Hannah paused and looked out toward the bay. How could the world become a better place, she wondered. What could she herself do to make it so?

****

Gunther Helm the Younger walked into his cottage on the Highland estate, tossed his pith helmet on a side table, and made his way to the parlor. There his father was to be found during the heat of the afternoon, and there he was today, his gouty leg propped on a stool and a stein of beer in his hand.

“Papa, you’d do best to partake less of the grog!” Helm the Younger decreed as he threw himself down upon a wicker settee and wiped his face with his handkerchief.

Helm the Elder raised his stein in a toast to his son. “Das ist richtich!” he agreed. “When the fool of a physician tells me how to stop the pain in my foot, I’ll gladly keep my stein empty. But what brings you home at this time of day to preach sermons to an old man?”

The Younger pulled a paper from the pocket of his cotton trousers. “Papa, Roy Carlton rode over today for the purpose of giving me this letter.”

The Elder took the offered paper and pushing spectacles upon his nose, perused it.

Bridgetown

May 31, 1841

To the Head of Overseers at Highland Plantation:

Sir, my name is Hannah Winstead, and my father, Edward Winstead, was the proprietor of Highland Plantation for several years before his death in 1823. I was a three-year-old child when he died, and I was taken from the island by my guardians and reared in England. I only recently learned of the place of my birth.

I have not yet formally entered a claim to my father’s estate, but I will do so in the near future. For now, I’m writing to ask whether I might call on you. I’d like to see the plantation, the house where I was born, and of course my parents’ graves.

If you could send a cart or carriage to transport me to Highland, I’d be very grateful indeed. I will of course pay you for your trouble.

I’m staying at the Ladies’ Shady Rest on Carlisle Lane.

Yours in friendship,

Hannah Winstead

Helm the Elder sat back and looked at his son. “So. At long last little Hannah has found her way to the island.”

The Younger poured himself a beer and propped his legs on a table. His father shook a finger at him.

“Your mother would not have allowed that, young man.”

“I know,” replied the Younger, “but mother has been gone for five years now. And my legs are tired.”

“What think you of the letter?”

“There is one part of it that gives me concern, Papa. Little Hannah, it seems, is not married.”

“And this gives you concern? Why?”

“Do you want an unmarried woman coming here and running the plantation?”

The Elder considered his son’s words. “Hmm, you have a point, Gunther. But Herr Winstead was a good man and his wife an angel. They paid me well, far better than overseers on other farms. Because of Winstead’s will, your pay also is generous.”

“Ja, Papa, and I know what you will say next. We owe allegiance to little Hannah for the sake of her father and mother.”

“Ja, we do.”

“Well, then, I’ll take the carriage to town and fetch her.”

“Nein, Gunther. Order the servants to prepare the house. I’ll go to town and fetch her myself.”

****

Gunther Helm pulled up his shay in front of the Ladies’ Shady Rest and surveyed the wooden structure. He was not fond of old wooden houses, finding them hot and stuffy in the tropics, but this one at least had a wide porch shaded by a poinciana. Upon the porch were several ladies occupied with reading and needlework. They watched him curiously as he eased his sore foot from the shay.

Helm did not think any of the ladies on the porch was Hannah Winstead. He had known her as a child, and her hair had been flame-red like her father’s. He limped toward the porch, pulling his hat off as he went.

At that moment, a young lady stepped from the house and Helm stopped. Could it be…?

Hannah paused and looked at the stranger. She did not think a carriage would have arrived for her so quickly, but the man was old and obviously in some pain so she stepped forward to offer assistance.

“May I help you, sir?” she inquired, stepping from the porch into the garden.

“Ja, fraulein, I am looking for Miss Hannah Winstead, and if I am not mistaken, I have found her.”

“I’m Hannah Winstead, indeed. Did you come from Highland? I didn’t expect anyone so soon!”

“Child, do you not remember Gunther Helm? No, of course you would not, for you were little more than a babe when you were taken away.”

“I’m sorry to say I can remember nothing from the time before my parents died. I wish very much that I could. But I know your name, for my guardian told me you were my father’s head overseer.”

“Indeed I was, and now my son runs the plantation.”

“Come,” Hannah said, taking his arm. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll fetch some refreshment. You’ve had a long drive, I dare say.”

“Nein, miss, I’ll unharness my horse and find him some water and grazing. Then, if you can be ready in two hours, we’ll journey back to Highland.”

“Of course. Pray take your horse to the barn in back. The hostler will assist you. And I’ll find a cup of tea for you and some bread and fruit.”

By the time the horse had been rested, Hannah was ready. Informing the señora she would return in a few days, she swung into the shay, feeling a sense of excitement unknown to her in many a month. She was about to see Highland Plantation—the place of her birth!

The two-hour drive was not tedious, for Hannah had many questions to ask Gunther Helm. She wanted to hear about her parents more than anything else, and Helm had a sharp mind and excellent memory.

“I well remember when your papa and mama first came to Highland. Your mama had inherited the plantation from an uncle, and your papa was eager to stay in Barbados and grow sugar cane. I don’t believe your mother was as keen.”

“But she was not unhappy in her life here, was she?”

“No, she was not unhappy. They were much in love, your mama and papa. When you were born, your papa was so proud!”

Helm had questions of his own, and by the time the journey ended, he had heard the entire story of Hannah’s experiences with the Godders, as well as her tenuous claim to the estate.

“My father left an odd passage in his will,” Hannah told him. “In order to lay claim to the estate, I must produce a sealed letter that my father left—and another item that is not named.”

“You said you spoke with Smythe the Younger. Did he not know what was meant by that?”

“No, he was mystified. I suppose his father knew, but he’s now deceased.”

“Hmmm…I knew your papa well, but I don’t know what he had in mind with this secretive phrase. But surely, under the circumstances, your claim can go forward. I can vouch for your identity because you are so like your father.” He glanced at Hannah and added, “In looks you are like him, for he had hair of copper exactly like yours and his eyes were green. But your nature seems more from your mama.”

“What do you mean, Herr Helm?”

“A certain gentleness…a quiet, dignified manner…”

Hannah smiled. “ ‘Dignified’ is not a word often applied to me…but I’m very glad you think me like my mother. I do wish I could remember her. And my father also.”

The sun was setting when the shay began to climb a long gentle hill, following a lane lined with white-trunked royal palms. At the crest of the hill, the lane turned to the right. As they rounded the bend, Hannah drew a breath. Before them was a stately Spanish-style home, wide and low, with bougainvillea dropping from a wall partially enclosing an entryway. A red-tiled roof glowed in the late afternoon sun, and a huge gnarled rubber tree spread its branches over the path to the entrance.

Hannah stared in wonder at the house. Here, twenty-one years ago, she had been born. Here, she had learned to walk and talk. Here, she had known the love of her mother and father. Here, she had no doubt run and laughed and played—a happy, beloved child—until Harry Peckham had murdered her father and taken her away so he might live like a king while her father lay in the ground! Among the varied emotions of the moment, Hannah was aware of an unfamiliar anger and bitterness.

Helm was watching her. “My son had the servants prepare a room for you. There are only two women left here to tend the house, and they were here when your parents were alive. Helena was your nanny, and Annie, her mother, was your mother’s trusted personal maid.”

“I’m very glad indeed that they’re here,” Hannah said, still gazing at the house. “I remember Helena.”

“Do you?”

“Not…exactly…as a clear memory, Herr Helm. But often in dreams I would hear someone calling ‘Helena.’ ”

Helm placed a hand on her arm. “Let us try an experiment, liebchen,” he said thoughtfully. “Let us enter the house, and we will see if you might find your way about without assistance.”

“I’ll try,” Hannah replied. “But I really have no memory of the house.”

“Sometimes memories are only sleeping,” the old man replied. “If you can find your way about, it will be one more proof we can use with Smythe to claim the plantation for you. Come.”

Hannah was confused when she first entered the foyer of the house. Helm stood behind her and waited as she paused and looked about. Then she moved to the left and entered a parlor. It had the look of dustcovers having been hastily removed, for several white cotton sheets were folded in a corner and the sun from the windows highlighted columns of dust swirling in the air.

Hannah turned and left the parlor. She passed an elegant staircase and then, very sure of herself now, turned right. Helm followed as she passed three doors. At the fourth, she paused. Helm watched her slowly lift the latch.

“Wait,” he ordered. “Tell me where the door leads.”

Hannah didn’t hesitate. “To my mother’s chamber.”

Hannah opened the door and surveyed the room. There was a large Spanish-style carved bed and chest of drawers, an English dressing table, and two armoires. High windows at the far side of the room looked out upon the courtyard. Hannah could see a jungle-like profusion of overgrown plants with several gray parrots perched in a bauhinia tree.

With Helm behind her, Hannah stepped into her mother’s chamber. As with the parlor, it had a look of being hastily dusted. She walked to the chest of drawers and touched the carved front of the heavy furniture. Gingerly, she opened the drawers one by one. She was astounded to find that her mother’s possessions were undisturbed in the drawers; lacy underclothing, jewelry, letters, and trinkets were neatly placed. In one of the two smaller drawers at the top of the chest, Hannah found a small book with a brown leather cover. She carefully removed it and, unable to speak her wonder, read the word Diary tooled on the cover. She was holding her mother’s diary in her hand!

The evening was rapidly becoming dark, and Helm left the room to fetch candles. Hannah sat on her mother’s bed and opened the diary but then quickly closed it. Perhaps another day she would read it, but today was already full of poignant emotion, and she felt her heart could bear no more.

Helm returned, followed by two black women carrying candles. They were tall, straight women wearing plain cotton dresses with colorful cloths wrapped about their waist and hips. The elder of the two had thick gray hair and a lean face that showed the bone structure of a former beauty. The younger was softer and rounder with large gentle brown eyes.

The women remained in the hall outside the chamber staring at Hannah as if she were a ghost. The flickering light of the candles played upon Hannah’s hair, and one of the women whispered, “Hair the color of flame—exactly like her papa.”

Hannah closed the chest of drawers and left the room. Helm introduced the women.

“Fraulein, these are the house servants, Helena Santos and Annie Maine.”

Hannah smiled at the women. “I’m very happy to meet you,” she said. “I’ve often heard the name ‘Helena’ in my dreams, and now I know it’s because you cared for me when I was very young.”

“Yes, miss,” the younger woman replied, her voice breaking. Hannah stared at her and was shocked to see she was crying.

“Helena…what’s the matter?”

Helena burst into sobs. She couldn’t speak so Annie spoke for her. “Miss, she loved you very much when you were a child. They take you away, and it break her heart.”

“Oh, Helena!” Hannah cried. She threw her arms around the woman and held her tight. When the sobbing stopped, it was replaced with a smile.

“Miss, I so happy to see you…to know you be well.”

“Helena, I’m so sorry for the pain you’ve suffered. I did not know until just six months ago that I was born here. If I’d known, I would have come back much, much sooner.”

“It’s good you here now,” Annie said sternly, “for the plantation need owner to settle many problems. The men will not cut sugar cane, and soon we will starve if they do not work.”

Hannah glanced at Gunther Helm.

“Annie, it is not quite so serious as that.” He turned to Hannah. “All the slaves on the island were freed in 1833, Hannah, but even though they became paid laborers, they were told they could not leave their plantations for six more years. There was a great deal of trouble with that system, so in 1838 all former slaves were made completely free.”

Hannah looked confused. “That was three years ago, so why are they not working now?”

Helm shrugged. “They have had three years to become accustomed to freedom, and now, like all laborers, they want more money.”

Annie glared at Helm. “The cane workers live in huts, Miss, with dirt floor. Children sicken and die, and there not enough money for food and medicine. Children want to learn read and write, but there be no money for school!”

Hannah looked from Annie’s stern face to Helm’s.

“The sugar market is down,” he replied to her unspoken question. “None of the owners will raise wages right now.”

Hannah suddenly realize they were all looking at her, as if she could solve the myriad problems on the island. She felt suddenly very fatigued and hungry as well.

“Helena, Annie…let’s talk of all these matters tomorrow. I can do nothing for the workers until the administrator of the island approves my claim to the plantation.”

Helm nodded in agreement. “I must return to my own cottage, but would you like me to show you the plantation tomorrow?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Hannah walked outside with Gunther Helm and waved to him as his horse trotted down the moonlit drive. She looked about, suddenly realizing if she walked behind the house, she would find a path to a garden and inside the garden, her parents’ graves.

She shivered, although the night air was warm. She was too fatigued tonight to face the emotional ordeal of seeing the graves. She would wait until morning.

Annie had spread out a light supper in the dining room, but after filling her plate with fruit, bread, and cheese, Hannah followed Annie into the kitchen at the far end of the house. Helena was sitting at a plain wooden table, and she looked up and smiled as Hannah entered.

Hannah sat at the table. Annie took soup from a pot on the huge black woodstove and seated herself as well.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence. Hannah could not remember when food had tasted so good. The first pangs of her hunger satisfied, she set down her glass of wine and smiled at the two women.

“It’s so strange, but I feel as though I’m home.”

“You are at home,” Helena said, grinning.

“What did you mean, Miss Hannah,” Annie asked, “when you spoke of the administrator? Why does this man not believe the plantation belong to you?”

“It has to do with my father’s will, Annie. He left a letter for me, and in order to claim the estate, I must present that letter with the seal unbroken.”

Annie grimaced. “And the evil man—the one called Godder—he will not give you letter?”

“I don’t even know where he is,” Hannah replied, “but even if I did, I’m certain he would not give the letter to me. And you’re correct, Annie. He’s an evil man.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then Hannah remembered the odd phrase in the will.

“Annie, Helena, perhaps you can help me solve a mystery. My father’s will says, besides the letter, I must present another item, but oddly, it doesn’t state what the item is. Do you have any notion as to what my father might have meant by that?”

The two women looked at her, their faces expressing their perplexity. Then Annie spoke to Helena in an unfamiliar tongue, and Helena seemed excited as she replied. Helena turned to Hannah. “Miss, your papa had many jokes and tricks, and he made us laugh all day. He say often there no doubt you be his daughter because of the red star.”

Hannah’s look of confusion made Helena laugh. Annie jumped up and pulled Hannah’s dress off her left shoulder.

“You see? The mark on the shoulder exactly as your papa had also. A red star! This is your legacy from your papa!”