Page 20 of The Irish Gypsy

Patrick arrived in Charleston a full month before Kitty. He quickly arranged for the disposal of his profitable cargo and so was free to make plans to fill the ship with goods to take back to Liverpool. He would buy cotton from Bagatelle, travel to Wilmington to pick up tobacco grown in Virginia, then sail to Philadelphia and New York to the branch offices of the Hind Food Company, which was expanding faster than he had ever dared hope. He purchased a carriage and a fine team and arranged for a young seaman, Rob Wilson, to drive him to the Carolina plantation.

When they arrived at Bagatelle, Patrick was surprised to find that Jacquine had not remarried. He couldn't believe that a woman of her passions could lead a celibate life, so kept his eyes peeled for evidence of her bedfellow. Surprisingly, he found none. He took young Rob aside and spoke seriously to him.

"There's an extra fifty pounds in it for you, Rob, if you stick to my side like glue."

Rob cocked a questioning eyebrow at him.

"It's very simple. I don't wish you to leave me alone with the widow,"

he said with a laugh.

"She looks like a grand piece. Willing, too!"

"Too damned willing, that's the trouble. You've heard the expression, 'She'll have your guts for garters'? Well, this one would have your balls for earrings."

Kitty's face was ever before him. His thoughts dwelled on the times she had been warm in his arms. The scent of her lingered in his dreams, and many had been the night on the long voyage when he had tossed sleepless upon his narrow bunk while her vision teased him with a burning, consuming desire. She was in his blood now, never to be denied. She was his love; his only love. The thought of other women was like ashes to him. His one thought was to get away from the plantation as soon as possible.

Jacquine was burning with impatience to get him alone, but when Patrick kept up a steady conversation with the common seaman who accompanied him, her pique smoldered beneath the surface.

The table was being set only for two. Patrick quirked an eyebrow at Jacquine.

"Surely there will be three of us for lunch, or aren't you joining us, madame?"

She gasped audibly.

"I presumed your servant would dine in the servants' hall, Patrick."

"I think not, my dear. Rob is not merely my servant, he is also my friend, and therefore my guest."

She masked her annoyance immediately. Patrick O'Reilly was arrogant, dominant, used to getting his own way, and best of all, he had a deliciously cruel streak. If she angered him now, she realized she was in danger of losing him, so she became all smiling, gracious hospitality.

Patrick laid the groundwork for an early departure.

"Unfortunately, I am already behind in my schedule. We must press on immediately at dawn tomorrow."

She licked her lips and pouted.

"I think you are ungallant to put your work before me, chéri."

When he didn't respond to her sally, she decided on a more direct approach.

"I beg a few words with you in private, monsieur? I must retire while the sun is so hot. Please excuse me?"

He sidestepped the brazen invitation.

"Good! That will give me a chance to show off your lovely plantation to Rob."

In the stables Patrick explained to Rob.

"We'll ride; it's far too large to cover on foot. You have no idea how vast this plantation is."

The farther they rode, the more astounded Rob Wilson became.

"I knew there was wealth in the world, Mr. O'Reilly, but I've never seen it on a vast scale like this before."

"It took my breath away too, the first time I saw it,"

acknowledged Patrick.

"All this could be yours, couldn't it?"

quizzed Rob.

Patrick smiled ruefully.

"I suppose it could, but at what a price, lad, at what a price,"

and he silently shook his head.

Inside the mansion Jacquine summoned Topaz to her bedchamber.

"Go to the compound and tell Colossus that under no circumstances must he come up to the big house tonight."

Topaz knew without further explanation what was required of her. There were no secrets on a plantation.

"I think also once dusk has descended you can go up to our young visitor's room. You may tell him he has my permission to pleasure you."

Topaz veiled the hatred in her eyes and stepped quickly from the room.

Since the heavy meal had been served at dinnertime, supper was a light, cold meal. Afterward, Patrick and Rob lit cigars and relaxed with a drink as the sky outside gathered into a thick darkness.

Topaz slipped out of the house and hurried down toward the compound. Colossus was striding past the rows of cabins, as he did every night on his way to the big house. No one paid much attention, even though everyone knew where he was going and why. Topaz came up with him under a beautiful live oak draped with moss.

"The mistress says you're not to come up to the big house tonight."

"Why not?"

"Her fancy Englishman has come visitin' so she can't have no nigger in her bedroom."

He went to brush past her and took another two steps toward the house, but Topaz was after him in a flash.

"Colossus, no! She'd strip the hide off me,"

she cried.

He reached down and gripped her arms.

"You can take her place, Topaz."

"You're too big for me,"

she said fearfully.

"When is this Englishman leavin'?"

"Tomorrow. I heard him say he's leavin' tomorrow for sure."

"All right, gal, go on."

Jacquine grew very impatient as she watched the men laughing and smoking. Finally she arose and stretched sensuously.

"Time for our little tête-à-tête, Patrick,"

she said suggestively.

Able to avoid her no longer, Patrick smiled lazily.

"Lead on, my dear."

He followed her up the stairs to her boudoir and closed the door behind them. He went over to an array of bottles and glasses and poured two Bourbons.

"Try it my way with a little bitters; it adds a subtle flavor,"

he offered.

"Chéri, you know I'll try it any way,"

she said and laughed.

"I'm sorry I have to leave so soon, Jacquine, but when I return for the baled cotton, we'll have lots of time to....talk."

"How long will you be gone, mon amour?"

"Three weeks, a month at the most, I think."

He refilled her glass.

"Why didn't you marry?"

he quirked a dark brow at her.

"None but you could satisfy me, of course,"

she said laughing.

He sat beside her and slipped one arm about her. He took the drink from her hand and put it to her lips.

"How many have you tried?"

He grinned.

"How many at one time, you mean?"

Her eyes were getting heavy as he watched her closely. Already her pupils were dilated enormously. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Patrick began to undress her. He was provocatively slow about it, kissing and biting each part of her flesh as he exposed it. The low moans died in her throat as she slipped into unconsciousness. Patrick blew out the lamps and left quickly, patting the vial concealed in his pocket.

Before Kitty sighted land, she could smell it. It was a curious mixture of spice and greenery. The birds came out to meet the ship, and the inevitable signs of man, bottles and garbage were spotted floating in the water. The pale blue harbor came into view, with waves washing up the seawall. The docks were crowded and Kitty could see that most of the faces were black. She made out a government building with cannons, and the waterfront warehouses and markets. The houses were different shades of pastel, with iron railings surrounding them. The sunlight dazzled her eyes, while the humid heat made her gasp. Captain Harding took her ashore, where Kitty knew the first thing she must buy was a lighter gown. She felt better the moment her feet touched land, but her heavy dress and cloak were suffocating. Big Jim directed her along East Bay Street until they came to a dress shop. Her pregnancy was quite obvious now, so she chose a loose gown of pale green lawn with a matching parasol that was quite inexpensive.

"Tell me, is it always this hot?"

she asked the saleswoman.

"Hot? Why, it's barely spring, child,"

the woman said and laughed.

"Wait until summer!"

The breeze rattled the palm leaves, and the streets and gardens were filled with pink and red blossoming trees. Big Jim took her to the Battery Carriage House and left her to her own devices. When he returned they had to meet in the front parlor, as visitors were not allowed up to guests' bedrooms.

"Are you feeling better, lass?"

"Oh, yes. I fell asleep hours ago. Were you able to find me transportation?"

"I looked about the livery stables, but I think I have a better idea. There is a government mail coach goes north from Charleston tomorrow. It stops at the outlying plantations and goes right past Bagatelle. They sometimes take passengers, so I took the liberty of saying you'd travel with them."

"That sounds wonderful. What would I do without you?"

"You'll find out tomorrow, won't you?"

He laughed.

"Now, here's your ticket and I'll write down the address for you. You just walk down the South Battery to the building next to the Court House."

"I know I'm keeping you from your duties, so we'd better say goodbye."

Her eyes glittered with tears.

"Well, I hate sentimental goodbyes, they're not in my style, so I'll just kiss you for good luck. Remember, if you ever need a ride back across the pond, just ask around the waterfront for me."

He drew her to his massive chest quickly and bussed her on the forehead.

"Don't go walking about the city alone, Kitty. Good-bye, love."

Jacquine awaited her overseer on the front veranda.

"Simmons, I want you to get word to the slave buyer right away that I have a prime hand I wish to sell."

"Yes, Miz LeCoq. Which one do you have in mind?"

"Colossus, but I don't want any trouble, so he mustn't find out about it until the slave dealer is actually here."

"But ma'am, he's our best field hand, he's worth mor'n half a dozen others put together,"

he protested.

"Are you questioning my orders, Simmons?"

she asked coldly.

"No, no, ma'am,"

he stammered.

"You know best what you want to do with your own slaves. We should get a good dollar for him,"

he suggested placatingly.

"You can pick out a couple of young striplings to go with him; this place is nigger rich!"

She dismissed him with a cold nod. She hoped there was no delay in finding the slave dealer; she had to get Colossus off the place before Patrick returned.

Two men rode on the mail coach; the driver and his guard, who carried a rifle across his knees. Kitty was the only passenger. They would follow the Cooper River all the way out past Bagatelle and up to Georgetown, then return by way of the Ashley River, making a circle. They assured her she was going to see the most beautiful country she had ever seen. The mail coach stopped at the main gates of each plantation but didn't turn into them from the main road. The plantations were so large and the driveways so long it would have added many hours to their weekly trip. Kitty was enthralled by the beautiful gardens. Live oaks draped with moss gave everything a fairy-tale appearance, and the tall cypress trees had their roots in the water. Everything seemed to be in bloom.

The coach was very hard and bumpy and to Kitty the heat was unbearable, but every time she thought she couldn't sit one moment longer, the sight of a delicate white dogwood would take her breath away. Finally the mail coach stopped outside a tall pair of white gates.

"Hi there, Josh. We got mail and a visitor for up at the big house."

"Hold on while I unlock the gate."

Kitty opened the coach door and stepped down. Thank you for a beautiful ride, gentlemen. Have a safe trip."

She smiled.

The young boy Josh took the mail pouch in one hand and Kitty's bag in the other.

"I had no idea the plantation would be this big,"

Kitty said, taking in the acres of formal, manicured lawns that swept down on both sides of the driveway. The boy was too shy to answer her, so he just grinned. They walked a considerable distance before the mansion came into view, and Kitty stopped in her tracks to gaze at it.

"Oh, it's simply breathtaking,"

she said. Josh grinned.

When they arrived at the front door, Kitty suddenly felt that she should not have come. How was she even going to walk into the splendor of Bagatelle and explain who she was? Then her natural optimism took over and she knew everything would be all right the moment Patrick saw her.

Josh knocked on the door and Ebony, the butler, opened the portal wide. He bowed stiffly.

"Won't you come in, madame? I will inform Miz LeCoq."

Kitty followed him into the spacious entrance hall. Her knees felt weak and she began to tremble from the long walk in the heat. At that moment a tall, striking figure appeared at the top of the stairs and paused dramatically to gaze down upon her. Jacquine descended the stairs slowly, never taking her eyes from the beautiful girl who waited below. A presentiment clutched at her so strongly that by the time her feet touched the bottom step she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who she was. She extended her hand smoothly, a smile upon her lips.

"How do you do. I'm Jacquine LeCoq. Can I help you?"

"How do you do. I'm Kitty Rooney. I'm looking for Mr. Patrick O'Reilly, and I'm afraid this is the only address I have for him in America."

"Ah, yes. The moment I saw you I knew you were looking for Patrick. I'm afraid he's left for the North on business, but do not worry your head, my dear, he will return to Bagatelle."

"Oh dear. I'm sorry to be a nuisance, madame. I've traveled all the way from England, and to be truthful I'm at a loss to know what I should do next,"

said Kitty, her heart tumbling with her disappointment.

"Allow me to extend the hospitality of Bagatelle. You are most welcome here. It gets lonely, as you can imagine. Come into the salon. You must be exhausted."

Kitty smiled her thanks and followed Jacquine into the deliciously cool room.

"Topaz, bring a palmetto fan,"

she ordered the black girl standing in the corner.

"Thank you. I'm not used to this heat,"

said Kitty.

"Tell Ebony to prepare two juleps with lots of ice,"

Jacquine ordered.

"Thank you,"

murmured Kitty, sinking back into a peacock chair. Her mind sought desperately to put things in order. This woman who was so friendly and hospitable on the surface had the hardest mouth Kitty had ever seen. The corners turned down and deep lines of what?...discontent? ran downward to the jaw.

"Patrick would be very angry with me if I didn't take the best care of you, I'm sure. I propose that you rest today. Bathe, lie down for a good sleep. I'll have a tray sent up so you needn't come downstairs at all this evening. Tomorrow we will talk. You can decide whether you will wait here for Patrick's return, or go north and try to locate him at his place of business, n'est-ce pas?"

"You are very kind, madame. The drink was delicious; I've never had ice before."

"Wherever have you been--the convent? How old are you, fifteen?"

"I'm twenty-one,"

lied Kitty, her eyes sparkling with anger.

"Ah, perhaps....but certainly hotheaded!"

Jacquine said and laughed.

"Topaz, take this lady upstairs and get her settled."

When they were out of earshot, Jacquine summoned Ebony.

"Have one of the gardeners dig a grave. Under the magnolias where my husband is buried will do nicely, thank you."

Ebony knew better than to question her. She was a woman of bizarre caprices. All he had to do was make sure it wasn't for him. All else was superfluous.

Kitty took off her pretty green dress and hung it in the wardrobe. She lay on the bed without even washing.

"You must know Patrick. When did he leave?"

Topaz looked frightened.

"The mistress gets mad if I gossip about white folks."

Kitty closed her eyes, trying to come to a decision. Her money was gone. The logical thing was to stay and await Patrick's return, but she was filled with a vague, unnamed anxiety.

Jacquine ordered a horse saddled. When she returned, she had vented a good deal of her frustrated anger by the liberal use of her riding crop.

It was not Topaz, but the butler who brought up a tray to Kitty's room. The food was delicious and for the first time in weeks it didn't produce the nausea that had been plaguing her. After she had eaten she felt a good deal better. She bathed from head to toe and brushed the tangles from her hair. The mirror showed it to be a mass of frizzy curls from the humid air, and her skin had a deep, healthy tan. She wished Patrick could see her, for she knew she looked extremely pretty.

Tomorrow, after a good night's rest, she would have to face that formidable opponent. She did not doubt for a moment that Jacquine was her opponent in an important game, with Patrick the prize. She knew a great plantation like this would be a temptation to a man with Patrick's ambition, but she believed that deep down he would abhor slavery and all it stood for.

Ebony lit the candles so his mistress was no longer sitting in the dark, then said.

"Madame, Mr. Simmons and another gentleman would like a word with you."

She put down her glass.

"I'll see them in my office."

Her overseer said.

"Miz LeCoq, ma'am, here's Mr. Logan. I got hold of him as soon as I could."

"You may leave us, Simmons. I am capable of handling the affairs of this plantation without male advice."

"As you wish, ma'am,"

He nodded and left.

"Well, Logan, have you seen him?"

"Yes, they've got him secured at the compound. I'll admit he's a fine specimen."

His eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Wrong with him? Are you mad?"

"My guess is he's a runner,"

he suggested.

"Wrong! We have no runners here, Logan,"

she contradicted.

"They were dead men the minute we got them back."

"He's powerful big, probably hard to handle,"

he suggested.

She smiled slowly.

"I never had any trouble. He's worth three thousand."

"Could be, but I'm not paying three thousand for him. He's flawed somehow, or you wouldn't be selling him."

"Logan, I can see you drive a hard bargain, so I'll be honest with you. I'm to be married shortly. For purely personal reasons I want Colossus off the place before my future husband returns."

"I see. Top dollar--two thousand, no dickering."

"Done. The two boys you can have for five hundred apiece. You should be able to turn a profit."

"There's always a good market for young females. Anything you can let me have in that line?" he asked.

"My house girls are trained to my every command: I couldn't possibly spare any. It would be much too fatiguing to train new girls."

She was glad to get the business concluded so she could concentrate on what to do about her other problem. It would be so simple to show Patrick Kitty's grave. So easy to concoct a tale of fever. What could he do once it was a fait accompli? How to go about it; that was the problem. There was no one on the plantation who would commit the murder for her. If only the wench wasn't so young and pretty.

She stopped. Logan was looking for light-skinned wenches! She sat down at her desk and thought out each step of her plan. The girl certainly was dark enough, exotic as some of the 'fancies' that black and white blood often produced. Who would deny her, except the girl herself? She could make out papers that none would question. She reached for a slave bill of sale and filled in the name. She carefully sanded the paper and placed it in her bosom for safekeeping.

"Topaz, follow me,"

she said. They went to the back of the house to a storeroom. Here were kept linens and a supply of brightly colored cotton garments the slaves wore. Jacquine selected a brilliant orange cotton shift with a matching tignon.

"Listen carefully to what I want you to do. First you must make absolutely certain that the girl upstairs is asleep. Then I want you to remove every article she brought here with her and leave this orange shift in their place. If you overlook one article of clothing I will lash you smartly."

Jacquine arose early. When Logan came she greeted him almost warmly.

"Ah--Logan. I've been thinking over what we were discussing last night, and I have decided to let you have one of my female slaves."

"Well, that depends on what you're asking for her. I'm a little low now that I've paid you the three thousand."

"That's the best part. If you can guarantee me that she won't be sold to anyone in Charleston or thereabouts, I'll throw her in for fifty dollars."

"What's wrong with her? What's the catch?"

he asked bluntly.

"Such a suspicious man! I want her away from here. Ship her to the islands and keep whatever you can get for her. She's even got a sucker in her, Logan, a white man's sucker, so I don't think you'll refuse my generous offer, will you?"

At this moment, Kitty came running down the stairs. Her eyes were blazing with anger. She was wearing the shapeless orange smock and brandishing the scarf in her hand.

"What the hell is going on here? Where are my clothes and by whose authority were they removed from my room?"

she demanded breathlessly.

Jacquine ignored her and turned to Logan.

"Well, what do you think of her?"

"I think you're one smart woman to sell her before your man returns,"

he said and laughed.

"Sell? What are you talking about? What's going on here?"

cried Kitty.

Still ignoring her, Jacquine took out the crackling document.

"Here is her paper, transferring ownership to you. Her name is Kitty and she is an octoroon."

"Octoroon? That's a damned lie! My skin is dark because I'm a Gypsy. You must be mad!"

Kitty flew at Jacquine's face, but she eluded the attack and sent Kitty a stinging blow to the side of her head.

"Control her, Logan; she's your property now."

Logan took the bullwhip from his belt and shook it threateningly under Kitty's nose. He took her arm and shoved her violently toward the door.

"Outside, girl."

Logan pushed Kitty across the veranda toward his wagon. He took out a set of leg irons and clasped them about her bare ankles.

Kitty turned burning-mad eyes on Jacquine and screamed.

"Hecate! Nebo! I call up the powers of darkness. I damn you everlastingly. I curse your immortal soul!"

Two young black boys were being loaded into the wagon when Kitty saw him. The gigantic black man came forward in chains. He made no protest, but the look of pure contempt he bent upon the assemblage was enough to put fear into all of them. Kitty's eyes were starting out of her head. Never before had she beheld anyone so ugly. He was the size of a monster. When they brought him forward and shackled him to Kitty, she went down into the vortex of oblivion.