Читать книгу Deceived - Bertrice Small - Страница 10

The duke’s valet, Browne, awakened him quite early, as his master had requested he do. While the sky was light, the sun was not yet up. The air was warm and quite still for a change. He bathed and dressed quickly, for he was to ride with George and Aurora before the sun became too hot for his inspection. By ten o’clock in the morning George told him the heat would be too much for him, as he was unused to it.

Browne handed him a deep saucer. “A bit of tea, sir. The cook was kind enough to make it up. The family stock is really quite palatable. We may not be in civilization, but it ain’t bad here but for the heat. I hardly closed my eyes all night.”

“You’ll be quite used to it by the time we leave, Browne,” Valerian Hawkesworth said with a smile. He drank the fragrant tea, setting the saucer down on a small table when he had emptied it.

“Master George sent up this hat for you to wear, sir.” Browne handed the duke the broad-brimmed straw head covering, remarking, “It surely ain’t fashionable, is it, my lord?”

Clapping the hat on his dark head, the duke picked up his riding crop and left his bedroom. In the airy downstairs foyer he found his two companions waiting. He was a bit surprised to see that Miss Spencer-Kimberly was wearing breeches. “You do not ride sidesaddle?” he said.

“Of course not,” she said. “The terrain is rough on the island. It is not some tame London park, your grace. Do all English ladies of fashion ride seated, their leg thrown awkwardly over their saddle’s pommel? It is an extremely uncomfortable way to ride. I firmly believe that is why Cally never took to a horse. She is of a delicate nature, and felt unsafe seated so unnaturally. Still, I could never get her to ride astride. She thought it not feminine.” The look she gave him challenged him to agree with her stepsister.

“I believe,” Valerian Hawkesworth said, neatly sidestepping the issue, “that as we are to be related by marriage, Miss Spencer-Kimberly, that you should call me something other than your grace. I shall call you Aurora, and you may call me Valerian.”

“Oh, may I?” Aurora said, her eyes wide, her voice unnaturally sweet. She fluttered her lashes at him.

“Sister, behave yourself!” George scolded her. “Valerian isn’t used to your sharp tongue and teasing ways.” He grinned at the duke. “She’s quite a minx, I fear. Papa never quite knew what to do with her. He doted on both the girls, and both are spoiled.”

“I think I know what I should have done with her,” the duke said, his dark blue eyes hard. “I suspect Aurora has never felt a hard hand on her bottom. It reforms the worst jades.”

George saw the fire in her eyes and said quickly, “We must be off. The sun will be up before we know it! Come along now.”

“I know nothing about sugar except that it is sweet,” Valerian said to his companions. “Tell me about it as we ride.”

“It’s a never-ending round-robin of labor,” George said. “We have four large fields on this side of the island, and four on the other side, which once belonged to the Meredith family. We rotate the fields. This year we are harvesting on this side of the island, and the other side is fallow, but being constantly fertilized, for cane takes a great deal of nourishment from the soil. We harvest every eighteen months. In a year, before the one side is ready for harvesting, we replant on the other side. The fallow fields need to be weeded in the between times. During the rainy season, usually between May and December, we plant. In the dry season, usually from January to May, we harvest our crop. We are never idle.”

“How is cane planted?” the duke asked.

“We propagate, using cuttings from the tops of mature plants. The slaves dig holes and fertilize. Our father’s father planted in long trenches, but now everyone holes because it prevents the soil from eroding and conserves moisture. Once the cane is planted, it is a constant round of fertilizing and weeding until the cane is cut.”

“How many slaves do you have?”

George thought a moment, and then he said sheepishly, “I don’t know. Enough to do the work, of course.”

“How many new slaves are required to be bought each year? I have been told that the mortality rate on sugar plantations is extraordinarily high due to the hard work and harsh conditions,” the duke remarked. As they approached the fields, he could already see black men and women at work, cutting and stacking the cane.

“The mortality rate on St. Timothy is relatively low but for old age and an occasional accident.” Aurora spoke up now. “Papa hated slavery. Had he been able to run the plantation without slaves, he would have done so, but he realized it was not realistic. He did the next best thing. He gave them decent housing and food. We have trained one of their own to doctor them. Field slaves work hard, but our slaves are not overworked, and Sunday is a day of rest for everyone on St. Timothy, free, bond, and slave alike. Consequently, our slave women bear live children who grow up to work in the fields next to their fathers. I cannot remember the last time a slave was bought. It is not like that on neighboring islands and plantations. Under English law the slaves have absolutely no rights at all. A master can kill a slave for no cause and still be within his rights. It’s horrible! Those poor blacks are worked around the clock until they die, and their owners care not. The slavers call regularly from Africa, bringing new consignments of unfortunate souls to be used, and then disposed of without thought. It is outrageous! But we do not do that here on St. Timothy.”

She spoke with such passion that she surprised him. He had thought her merely sharp-tongued and spoiled, but Aurora, it would seem, had a conscience. As he did not like slavery either, it pleased him.

“Actually, treating our people humanely works to our advantage,” George told the duke. “They are used to working together, have made themselves into several field crews, and for their own amusement compete against one another. When the harvest is in, we reward them all, the lion’s share going to the most productive crew. It’s certainly better than working them to death and then having to teach and break in new men. I have four black foremen, and each of them has trained an assistant. And my clerks are all black men. And another advantage to our way is that since at least three generations of our slaves have been born on St. Timothy, there is no incentive to rebel, and there is no longing for Africa, from whence their ancestors came. St. Timothy is our home, all of us, black and white.”

“How many hours a day do your field slaves labor?” Valerian asked George as they stopped a moment to look over a field that was already half cleared.

“We are in the fields by six o’clock in the morning, and toil until noon when the sun is so vicious. They return to the fields about two o’clock, and stay until sunset.”

“Is there much malingering?”

George shook his head. “When a field hand goes to the doctor, it is because they are genuinely injured or ill. These are honest people, and their families would not allow them to feign illness.”

“Do many run away?”

“Where would they go?” Aurora said. “British law says a slave has absolutely no rights. If a black cannot show papers of manumission, it is assumed they are runaways. They are jailed until their owners can be found, and if they are not, they are resold. No one has run from St. Timothy in my memory, for they are safer here, and better treated than anywhere else in the colonies.”

They rode into the fields toward a group of centrally located buildings. The field hands greeted them as they passed them by.

“These buildings house the cane mill as well as the boiling and refining houses,” George explained. “The cane is cut as close to the ground as possible, the leaves stripped, and then the cane is cut into three-to four-foot lengths, bundled up, and brought to the mill. Within the mill the slaves crush the cane to extract its juices. We then boil the juice, clarify it, and it crystallizes into sugar. We take a little of the molasses, which is what is left after we clarify the cane, and make our rum with it. It’s a long, tedious, hot process. Only the strongest men can work here.”

“You make enough rum only for your personal use?”

George nodded.

“Would it be possible to make more rum?” Valerian asked.

“I always wanted to do that!” George said enthusiastically. “There is a good market for rum outside the islands. We would need to build a facility to bottle it. Papa never wanted to do it, but I think we need to diversify, and build up our resources. If we lost a crop to a hurricane, we would have the means to plant again, and to survive. Papa said we would have to borrow to build, and he wanted no part of the island endangered by moneylenders.”

“Do you have enough slaves to start such a process?” the older man queried the younger. “Or would it be necessary to buy new slaves?”

“We can train men to oversee the process, but we can use the younger women to do the bottling, Valerian,” George responded. “Bringing new slaves to the island could cause trouble.”

“I am completely unnecessary to this conversation,” Aurora said suddenly. “George, you do not really need me now. I am going for a swim before the sun is too high.”

“You swim?” the duke was astounded.

“In the sea,” she told him pertly, and then, turning her horse away, she moved off back through the fields.

“She can really swim?” Valerian asked George.

“Like a fish,” he said. “Even better than I can, much to my embarrassment. She’s a bonny girl, Valerian, and a wonderful companion, if a brother might brag a bit. She can shoot a pistol too.”

“Good Lord!” the duke exclaimed. “And is Calandra like her?”

George laughed. “Nay, she is not. Cally dislikes swimming almost as much as she dislikes riding, and the sight of a pistol renders her faint. Yet she is a game girl, and has kept up with the two of us for years. Cally, however, can play the pianoforte, and she sings like an angel. She has a wonderful eye, and paints the most exquisite landscape miniatures. These are talents much more suited to being a duchess, I would assume. They are both wonderful sisters!”

“I had a sister once,” Valerian said as they resumed their ride. “She was drowned with my parents returning from France. My mother was half French. After her father died, and she was married to my father, my French grandmother returned to her girlhood home. My parents had taken Sophia for a visit. A wicked storm blew up in the Channel even as they were in sight of England. Their ship went down, and all aboard her were lost. Sophia was eight.” He smiled softly. “I yet remember her, but were it not for her portrait in the family gallery, her face would elude me today. She was a pretty child, and, as I recall, very mischievous. She once drove all the chickens on the home farm out into the fields to free them because she said she could not bear to know they would be eventually eaten. She had a kind heart, my sister.”

George nodded his understanding. “Cally and Aurora once freed a turtle that was to be used for soup for the same reason,” he said.

The two men rode on, George taking his companion to the top of the gentle hills that divided the island lengthwise. He pointed out the fields, and the old Meredith plantation house that would now belong to Aurora. From their vantage point Valerian could view the entire island, and the sea in which it sat.

“What is that island?” the duke asked. “It looks quite wild.”

“It’s St. Vincent, and is inhabited by the Carib Indians. They do not bother us, nor we them,” George answered. “They have lost so much to the British, French, and the Spanish, even the Dutch, that they are content to live peaceably as long as they are left to themselves.”

“And where is Barbados?”

George turned. “You can just make it out today, for it’s a bit hazy. St. Timothy is between the two islands.”

Valerian Hawkesworth gazed out over the island. It was like an emerald set on an aquamarine cloth. Above them the bright sun glittered in an azure sky. It was absolutely beautiful in a way he had never known, or even imagined. In a nearby tree he spotted several medium-sized birds. They were teal green with sapphire-blue tails and wing tips. Each had a cap of bright orange, and bone-colored hooked beaks. He pointed toward the small flock, asking George, “What are they?”

“Tiomoids, a variety of parrot native to this island” was the reply. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

“I’ve never seen anything like them. Oh, I’ve seen parrots in England, but usually they’re blue and gold, or white. I’ve never seen any like these.”

“They don’t seem to be anywhere else but here,” George said.

“They’re harmless. They don’t ravage the cane, so we leave them be.”

They returned down the hills, but when they had reached the fields again, a tall, neatly garbed black man came running, calling out to George Spencer-Kimberly.

“What is it, Isaac?”

“You are needed in the counting house, sir. I was sent to find you. Will you come?”

George turned to Valerian. “I must go. If you would like, tomorrow we can go over the books.”

“Can we not do it this afternoon?” the duke asked.

“I think Cally might find herself offended if we did,” George answered with a twinkle in his eye.

Valerian laughed. “You are right. I must remember that I am to be a married man, and can no longer think only of myself.”

George nodded. “Just follow the road back to the house. You won’t get lost. There is only one cutoff, and that leads to the beach. Your path goes straight. The other turns to the right.”

“I think I can find my way,” the duke said as he moved off.

When he came to the narrow track that led right, however, he turned his horse onto it. He wanted to see the beach, and ride along the edge of the sea for a bit. St. Timothy was such a fascinating place. He felt a longing to go exploring such as he had not felt since he was a young boy. He didn’t expect he would lose his way so completely that he couldn’t find his way back to the plantation house. The jungle deepened for a short way, and then began to thin out once more. He could hear the waves on the shore, but it was a soft sound.

As he was about to move out onto the sand, something caught his eye in the water. It was a head. He saw Aurora’s horse tethered. Then his eyes went to her clothing which was piled neatly next to a cloth that was spread on the white beach. Was she swimming nude? He was surprised, and perhaps shocked, although he was not certain of that. He knew he should turn around and return to the main road, but he didn’t want to. Instead, he remained hidden in the shadows, watching as she swam closer to shore.

She stood, and his question was answered. She was completely without garments, and she was utterly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen at that particular moment. The crystal-clear waters came almost to her knees. She reached about to gather her hair into her hands, and then wrung it out as she walked from the sea onto the beach. Lying upon the cloth, she spread her hair out to dry. Valerian sat silent, hardly daring to breathe. After a while Aurora turned over, again arranging her hair in a manner intended to dry it. She remained that way for another short period.

What I am doing? the duke thought. I am like a boy spying on the dairymaids, and yet he could not move away. She had long legs, and her skin was pale gold all over. A bunch of luxuriant little curls, golden brown in color, burst forth from the junction between her legs. He wanted to plunge his fingers into that tempting tangle and explore her most secret places. He watched her arise from the beach, and his eyes fastened eagerly upon her breasts. They were small, and perfectly round in shape, their nipples pert and upstanding. Her narrow waist led to surprisingly shapely hips, perhaps a trifle more statuesque than he would have suspected beneath her skirts. She turned, then bent to retrieve her shirt. Her buttocks were so sweetly formed, he longed to fondle them. It was then he realized how uncomfortable he had suddenly become. His male organ was swollen hard, and almost unbearably painful.

God, he thought irritably! This girl is to be my sister-in-law, yet here I am, spying on her like some debauched bastard. How the hell shall I ever look her in the eye again? He watched as Aurora pulled on her breeches, stockings, and shoes. Suddenly he was angry. It was her fault! She was a teasing little wanton! What sort of respectable girl went about swimming naked for all to see who could see? He could only hope the wench would not cause a scandal when she came to England. He would have to find a respectable husband for her as quickly as possible, but somehow the thought of another man with Aurora angered him even further. Valerian Hawkesworth turned his horse back toward the main road before she caught him looking at her. If she found him out, she might tell Calandra, and he didn’t want his bride upset by a momentary weakness on his part.

The days flew by. He spent the mornings with George, learning about how a sugar plantation was run, monitoring the books. He found his wife’s dowry a productive one. The Kimberlys, Robert in particular, had been very prudent, the duke discovered. Proceeds from the sales of the sugar crops were deposited with London banks. Kimberly had provided generously for his widow, and for his two stepchildren, whom, Valerian learned, he had formally adopted. Both Aurora and George would be considered excellent marriage prospects. He expected to have no trouble finding a husband for his sister-in-law, provided, of course, she behaved herself. But other than her proclivity for swimming naked in the sea, he could find little fault with her, except perhaps her quick tongue. And the sea surrounding England was generally too cold to swim in at all. Valerian Hawkesworth was beginning to feel expansive in his good fortune.

He spent the afternoon and evenings with Calandra, her mother, and sister. His bride-to-be was very lovely, if perhaps a trifle dull, but then that was to be expected. She had spent her entire life on St. Timothy, which, while beautiful, offered little in the way of cultural stimulation. Calandra could read, and she could write, but she was, she admitted to him, hopeless at sums. She spoke a little French, but where she excelled was in the arts. Her embroidery was exquisite, as were the miniatures she painted; and as George had said, she sang sweetly, and played the pianoforte in the drawing room quite well. All in all she would be an asset to Farminster. His grandmother would smooth out her rough spots, and Calandra would be quite acceptable in society.

His sister-in-law, on the other hand, was far more stimulating to speak with, and quite the bluestocking. She had read everything in her father’s library several times over. She wrote with a very fine hand, and had taught herself Latin. Besides English, she spoke both Spanish and French fluently, having had access along with George to a tutor for several years. He had seen her ride and swim. And one afternoon he had seen her best her brother at target shooting. She had a keen eye for mathematical figures, but none of the female accomplishments of her stepsister. She could neither sing nor play, nor paint nor embroider, and while she would not hurt Calandra’s feelings by scoffing at such things, it was obvious she had little time or patience for them. Aurora and Calandra were fascinating opposites, yet they loved each other dearly, he could see.

Cally’s wedding gown was ready. The servants sewed diligently on the clothing she would take with her until she might obtain that fine London wardrobe. The duke was pleased that Aurora and George would be coming in eight months’ time rather than on his heels. He had Aurora’s measurements taken, and promised that a wardrobe would be sent to her in time to travel to England. And George, too, was to share in his brother-in-law’s bounty. It would be winter when they arrived, the duke reminded them, and they would both need warm, fashionable clothing.

“You will send to me to let me know on what ship you intend traveling. I would suggest the Royal George, or its sister ship, the Queen Caroline. I will send my carriage to meet you.”

“You are so kind to us, Valerian,” Oralia said.

“Would you not come too, ma’am?” he asked her as he had several times previously. “We would welcome you at Hawkes Hill, and hope that Calandra will be with child by then. I know she would welcome her mother, particularly under those conditions.”

Oralia shook her head. “When Robert brought me here from Jamaica, I vowed that I would never again set sail upon the sea. I have neither the head nor the stomach for it, it seems.” She laughed.

“Then we must return to St. Timothy often so you may know your grandchildren, ma’am,” Valerian said generously.

Oralia beamed even as Calandra giggled.

He had begun to worry about Calandra. How many walks had they taken in the plantation house gardens? But she had yet to allow him any intimacy but the privilege of holding her hand. On the several occasions he had attempted to kiss her on the lips, she had turned away so that his lips barely brushed her cheek. If she would not allow him an innocent kiss, what was to happen when they were married? Aurora, he suspected, would have long ago succumbed to his kisses. He didn’t know why he had thought it, but he did. Then, having thought it, he put the idea from him guiltily. Certainly Oralia had, or would shortly, explain to Calandra her marital duties. Then it would be up to him to instruct his bride in the more practical aspects of those duties.

The night before the wedding Oralia joined both her daughters in Cally’s bedchamber. “Aurora, I think it best you leave us,” she said.

“May I not remain?” her stepdaughter replied. “You are going to speak to Cally of the physical side of marriage, aren’t you, Mama? I might as well hear it now, as you probably won’t be with me when I marry.”

“But you are not departing for England for several months,” Oralia replied. “We will speak then, Aurora.”

“I would rather hear it all with Cally, Mama.”

“Oh, please let her stay,” Cally begged prettily.

Oralia shrugged. She was uncomfortable enough as it was. It was actually a very practical idea to get this little speech all over and done with just once. “Very well,” she acquiesced. “Marriage has many aspects to it,” she began. “A good wife respects her husband. She keeps his house, and if he so desires, she may even offer him her counsel. But a woman’s chief duty, my girls, is to give her husband children. In order to do this, she must cojoin her body to his and receive his seed into her womb. For some women this is a pleasant duty, and she may even enjoy her husband’s passion.”

“Did you?” Aurora asked frankly.

Oralia blushed. “I did with your father,” she said low.

“But not with mine?” Cally asked.

Oralia bit her lip, but then said candidly, “Your father was not as gentle a man as was Robert Kimberly. While all men are basically alike in their forms, each is different in the manner in which he makes love to his wife. You must be prepared for this, both of you. Cally, I believe your duke will be kind and patient. Permit him the freedom of your body, for it is his right. You must not deny him.”

“What will he do?” Cally asked curiously.

“Each man has an…um…um…an…”

“Appendage?” Aurora suggested.

“How on earth did you know that?” her mother gasped.

“I remember seeing George had one when we swam together as children,” Aurora said calmly. “It was a bit small, however.”

“They grow as the male grows,” Oralia told them weakly, thinking this was probably the worst thing she had ever had to do in her life. “This appendage is the means by which a man joins his body with his wife.”

“How?” Cally said.

“There is an opening in a female’s body,” her mother said. “It can be found between your legs. As a man’s desire grows, this appendage will thicken, and grow. It is then ready to enter your body, which your husband, if he is thoughtful, will prepare for his entry.”

“How?” Cally again.

“He will stroke you,” Oralia said.

“Like a cat?” Cally sounded disbelieving.

“You know what you need to know,” Oralia said. “Valerian will answer any other questions you have, Calandra.”

“How does a baby get into my body?” Cally persisted.

“Your husband will deliver his seed into your womb by means of his appendage. This seed will grow if you are fertile at the time it enters your body, for you will not always be fertile to his seed, and the seed evolves into a baby. It generally takes about nine months for a child to come to full term. At that point it will push itself from your body through the same opening by which it entered it.”

“Will it be a son or daughter?” Cally was not yet satisfied.

“You will not know until the child is born,” her mother said.

“Now, Calandra, Aurora, I think you have more than enough information. It is time for you to go to sleep. Tomorrow is a very important day for you, Calandra. You will marry, and you will leave St. Timothy as the Duchess of Farminster. You must get your rest.”

“Let Aurora stay for a while,” Cally asked her mother. “It is the last night we will have each other’s company for a long time, and when we meet again, everything will be different.”

Oralia nodded, understanding, and then, standing up, she left the room. She and Robert had been so fortunate in their marriage and in their children. She wanted that for both of the girls.

When she had gone, Cally said, “I wonder what part of me he will stroke.” Then she giggled nervously. “It is all quite silly.”

“Men, I have noted, have an appreciation of women’s breasts. Perhaps he will stroke your breasts,” Aurora said. “Have you ever touched yourself, Cally?”

“Have you?”

Aurora nodded. Then she undid the ribbons on her nightgown, exposing her upper torso to her sister’s view. “Undo yours,” she commanded.

Cally complied with the request. “I’ve never done this before,” she whispered. “Is it naughty?”

“Probably,” Aurora responded, her hands cupping her round little breasts. “Do what I do, Cally.”

Cally’s bosom was only slightly larger than her sister’s. Her breasts were cone-shaped, and had large nipples. Shyly, she slipped her hands beneath them, all the while watching as Aurora began to rub her nipples with her thumbs. Cally followed suit. Her nipples grew hard beneath her touch, but she felt more irritation than anything else. Aurora, however, closed her eyes and sighed. She slipped one hand down her body, pushing her nightgown away, until her fingers were lost in the tight curls of her bush. Cally watched wide-eyed as Aurora thrust a finger between the folds of flesh and began to rub herself.

“What are you doing?” she said, half shocked.

“You do it too,” her sister said softly. “Ummmm, it feels so good. If this is what a man does to you, I can hardly wait to marry!”

“I cannot do that,” Cally protested, but she was fascinated.

“Yes…you can,” Aurora murmured. “Oh! Oh! Oh! That was so nice, Cally. Go ahead! Try it. You’ll feel so good afterward!”

Nervously, Calandra followed her sister’s instructions. Soon her body began to tingle in a way she had never known before, and she did not think she liked it. Her fingers were slickly sticky with some kind of juice her body seemed to be emitting. Then she gave a little shudder. “Ohhh!” she cried. “Ohhhh!”

“There now, wasn’t that nice?” Aurora said mischievously.

“I don’t think I liked it at all,” Cally said, arising from the bed where they were both sitting to wash her fingers off. “How did you ever learn such a thing?” She scrubbed her hand fiercely.

Aurora shrugged. “I don’t really know. I just did it one day, and I liked it. Valerian will probably touch you that way. I think the gooey fluid that comes from that place is what Mama meant when she said he would prepare you for his entry. I imagine the appendage goes in far more easily when it is greased than if you were dry.”

“I think it is nasty, and I shall not do it!” Cally said.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Cally. Of course you’ll do it. You have to if you’re going to have a baby, and, as Mama says, it’s your first duty to the Hawkesworth family to give them an heir. You’ll probably like it better when Valerian does it to you. Has he kissed you yet?”

“I wouldn’t let him,” Cally said.

“Well, you’ll have to after the wedding,” Aurora told her sister in practical tones. Then she arose from the bed, retying her nightgown. “I’m off for bed, sweeting. Happy dreams, little sister. I will miss you. See you on the morrow.”

“Aurora!”

She turned.

“I love you!” Cally said.

“I love you too,” Aurora replied, and then left her sister.

In the downstairs foyer Calandra’s trunks sat waiting. The wedding would be first thing in the morning, when the Royal George arrived. Then the newlyweds and their two servants would depart for England after a wedding breakfast. The minister would be returned to Barbados by means of a St. Timothy boat, and the day would progress just like any other day on the island, except that Cally would be gone.

The household was up early. The baths were filled, and all involved bathed. Tea was brought to each bedroom. Cally’s maid, Sally, was so sick with her excitement that she vomited twice.

“What’s the matter with you?” Martha asked the younger woman.

“I’m going ’ome!” Sally said. “I’m going to see England again, and be personal maid to a duchess!” Sally’s term of bondage had ended several years earlier. She had always been homesick for England, but had never had the means to return. She had been transported for debt. The only means of support she had was here with Calandra. Now she had been asked to accompany her mistress, and she was thrilled. “Don’t tell me, Martha ’enry, that you won’t be ’appy to see England again.”

“You ain’t going to remain personal maid to a duchess long if you don’t put those H’s back on your words, Sally me girl,” Martha told the younger woman sternly. “I thought we had learned you better these past ten years. A duchess’s servant got to talk more posh. You want to end up back in the same London slum from where you came?”

“Gawd, no!” Sally exclaimed. She looked worried. “Maybe I ought to stay put right here on St. Timothy.”

“Don’t be a ninny,” Martha said. “Just remember to speak careful, and learn everything you can from the Hawkesworth family servants. You’ve got the next couple of weeks to make friends, and ask questions of Browne, the duke’s valet. And by make friends I don’t mean you should go and seduce the poor fellow. And if anyone should question your authority, and try and steal your place, just remember to be tough and remind ’em that you’ve been with her grace since she was a child. Few will challenge an association like that. Be pleasant, but don’t trust anyone until you got a real good lay of the land. The dowager duchess will have a favorite serving woman. Make friends with her and defer to her judgment. With a strong ally like that, you ain’t got nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, Martha! I’m going to miss you!” Sally’s plain face was woebegone. Her gray eyes were teary.

“Go on with you,” Martha said gruffly, but she was feeling a bit weepy too. When Sally departed, she would have no close woman friend of her own class. But it was only for a little while, she reminded herself. Her eye went to the windows, and then she said, “Look out in the harbor. The Royal George is sailing in, and the bride not ready!”

Cally’s wedding gown was brought forth. It was a beautiful garment of cream-colored satin. The round neckline was edged in matching lace that matched the engageants falling from the three-quarter sleeves. The skirt opened in the front to reveal a brocade underskirt embroidered in a delicate floral pattern with gold thread. The skirt was gathered full at the hips with flounces and ruches, and lay over its underskirt and several stiffened petticoats. Calandra’s dark hair was gathered into a chignon, and one long curl was coaxed to lie over her left shoulder. She wore no jewelry except for pear-shaped pearl earbobs and a small gold cross on a fine gold chain. Carefully she slipped her stocking feet into low-heeled cream brocade shoes with small gold rosettes. Then she looked at herself in the long mirror.

Calandra Hawkesworth. It had a noble ring to it. Calandra, Duchess of Farminster, she thought, and preened before the glass. Yes. She looked like a duchess. She was going to be a great success in England. “I am beautiful,” she said aloud to no one in particular.

“You are, and that’s the truth,” Martha told her with a smile, “but don’t you forget when you get to England, that pretty is as pretty does, Miss Calandra. I’ll want to hear good things of you when we arrive.”

Oralia came into the bedroom and stopped, her hand going to her heart as she viewed her daughter. “Oh, my, my, darling! It is perfect. You look regal.” She handed Cally a small spray of star-shaped white orchids. Then she asked, “Where is Aurora?”

“Here, Mama.” Aurora entered by the door that connected her room and Cally’s. Her gown was almost identical to her sister’s except that it was pale rose-colored silk. The visible underskirt was of cream brocade, hand painted with tiny blue forget-me-nots. Her matching shoes had pink rosettes, and her brown-gold hair was fashioned with twin ringlets on either side of her head. Her only jewelry was a gold cross that matched her sister’s.

“Oh, how lovely you look!” Oralia said, pleased. She presented her stepdaughter with a bouquet of pink hibiscus and green ferns.

George popped his head in the door. “Captain Conway and the Reverend Mr. Edwardes have arrived. The bridegroom is waiting eagerly. Are you ladies ready?”

“Escort me down, George, and then you may come and get your sister,” Oralia said, gesturing to the two servants to accompany her.

The two sisters were alone for a brief moment.

“You’re certain you’re not sorry?” Cally said. “This is a wonderful and generous thing you have done, Aurora, but even I know Papa would not approve.”

“I am not sorry,” Aurora assured her, “and Papa would want me happy first and foremost. You know that. Now, you be happy, Cally.”

“Ohhh, I just know I will! I am going to be a duchess, and live in England. I cannot wait to get there and become a part of society!”

“And Valerian? Do you give no thought to him?” Aurora was just slightly troubled by Cally’s childish attitude.

“Valerian? Well, he will be my husband. What else is there?” Cally replied. “I’m certain we shall get on quite well.”

George returned. “Come, my little sisters. ’Tis time.”

They left the bedchamber, and Aurora descended the staircase first, moving slowly so that everyone would have a chance to see and admire Calandra. Of course only the servants were there to see, besides the ship’s captain and the Anglican minister who stood with his back before the open door of the house. To his left stood the duke, dressed simply but elegantly in pale fawn-colored breeches, full at the top and fitted above the knee, below which he wore white stockings. His coat was of black velvet, and his waistcoat a white brocade embroidered with black thread garlands. He had silver buckles on his shoes, and lace at his throat and cuffs. Reaching the minister, Aurora stepped to the left and turned to see her stepsister.

Cally moved gracefully, her little hand upon George’s arm. When they arrived before the Reverend Mr. Edwardes, Valerian stepped forward, and George gave his sister’s hand into that of the duke and stepped into Valerian’s former place as George had two roles to fulfill in this wedding. He was to give the bride away, and he was also the best man.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together today in the sight of God and this company to join together this man and this woman,” intoned the Anglican minister.

How long had it been since she had been to church? Aurora wondered. The minister had come from Barbados for her father’s funeral, and before that? She could not remember. Her father would have liked to have had a clergyman on St. Timothy, but without a congregation it would have been good money wasted, he always said. The slaves had their own religion, and a family of five plus their servants was hardly worth the bother. So the minister was sent for only when he was needed. Hardly an ideal arrangement, Aurora thought. When I go to England I shall go to church every Sunday, she decided. England. What fate was awaiting her there? Only time would tell. Her mind wandered here and there for the next few minutes, and then she heard the minister say, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” He joined their hands. “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen.” Then the Reverend Mr. Edwardes smiled at the couple. “You may kiss the bride, your grace.”

Knowing her shyness, Valerian quickly and lightly brushed Calandra’s lips with his own. She looked very surprised.

Oralia kissed her daughter and then the duke. “I am so very happy for you both!” she said, her eyes filled with tears.

The newlyweds were then congratulated by their relations, Captain Conway, and the servants before they adjourned to the dining room for a wedding breakfast. While they ate, the trunks were being carried from the house, put into a cart, and taken down to the harbor to the ship. When the last toast was drunk, Captain Conway arose from his place.

“I do not wish to rush your grace, but the sooner I can weigh anchor today, the sooner we will reach England.”

“Of course,” the duke agreed, standing and drawing Cally up with him. “You will want to change, my dear. Sally, take your mistress upstairs, and do not dawdle.”

“Yes, yer grace,” Sally said smartly. She and Martha had been invited to the table, being old and treasured retainers.

In a surprisingly short time the new Duchess of Farminster returned, dressed fashionably in a gaily flowered Pompadour taffeta travel dress, a broad-brimmed straw hat with blue ribbons, and lace mitts upon her pretty hands. “I am ready,” she said in a breathless voice.

Oralia began to cry. Both her daughter and stepdaughter rushed to comfort her. “I am being foolish, I know,” she sniffed.

“Now, Mama, you must reconsider your decision and come to England with Aurora and George in late autumn,” Cally said.

Oralia shook her head. “I do not like to travel,” she replied. “When you have had a baby or two, or three, bring them home one winter to St. Timothy for their grandmama to see before she dies.”

“Now, Mama,” Aurora said, struggling not to laugh. “You are not going to die for many years to come. You are far too young. Give Cally your blessing, and a kiss so they may be under way.”

Oralia sighed, but did as her stepdaughter suggested, kissing first Calandra, and then Valerian Hawkesworth. “Take care of my darling child,” she instructed the duke.

“I will, ma’am,” he promised her.

Cally then hugged her stepsister, her brother, and finally Martha. “I shall look forward to seeing you in a few months.”

George grinned. “Together,” he said.

“Forever!” Cally responded.

“As one!” Aurora finished their pledge.

Valerian Hawkesworth looked puzzled, and the trio laughed.

“Your wife will explain to you,” Oralia said. “Now, go, before I cannot let you go!” She put her handkerchief to her mouth.

The duke helped his bride into the open carriage, and with a wave they were off down to the harbor, Captain Conway, Browne, and Sally following in their own conveyance.

“I do not know if I can bear it,” Oralia said softly.

“Be of good cheer, ma’am,” the Reverend Mr. Edwardes said. “It is God’s will that a daughter leave her mother’s house for a husband. Your daughter has married incredibly well. Be thankful!”

“George,” Aurora said quickly, “would you be so good as to take our kindly minister down to the boat and have Franklin sail him back over to Barbados. The winds are brisk today, and I believe he can be home in time for lunch. It was so good of you to come to St. Timothy to marry Cally and Valerian, but we cannot keep you further from your parish duties, Reverend Edwardes.” She smiled sweetly.

“Happy to come, Miss Aurora,” he replied. “I hope I shall next see you wed to some fine young man. We have several suitable gentlemen in my parish, among whom might be one who would suit you.”

“Perhaps I shall come over to Barbados for a visit after my brother and I return from England next year, sir,” she replied.

“Your dear mama will be all right, won’t she?” the minister inquired solicitously. “Losing a daughter is hard, I know. My good wife and I have married off four in as many years.”

“Mama will be fine,” Aurora assured him.

“Come along, sir,” George said brightly, understanding that Aurora wanted the man gone before Oralia might say something revealing. He took the rector by the arm. “I shall see to his fee,” he murmured to his stepsister, and then he hustled the Reverend Mr. Edwardes out the door before another moment could pass by.