Captive Innocence (31 page)

“I don't believe we had an appointment, Rivera.” Cautiously, he kept his walking stick at his side, swinging it gently. “I really don't have time to see you, not that I could imagine what business you have to discuss. You should have left your card when you discovered I wasn't at home. Or have you come to spy on me?” he demanded, his voice less confident than he would have wished.

“Spy on you? What makes you think I would be interested in your affairs? I already know what you've done.” His last statement had the expected results, and he saw the Baron's hand go to his brow to wipe away the perspiration.

“Are you referring to the fact that I didn't run back to the Reino when some idiot announced a breakout of yellow jack?”

“He wasn't an idiot, Carlyle, and you know it. It's a pity you never went to the Reino to see what's become of it. Shall I tell you? You've lost everything. It's all over. There was a meeting several days ago, and I'm afraid we plantation owners intend to come down hard on you, Carlyle.”

Hate spewed from the Baron's eyes as he stared at the face that so closely resembled his own. He hated Sebastian Rivera, hated him and wished him dead. As long as the man was alive, he, Carlyle Newsome, would never really be safe, and neither would the Reino.

“Bah! You can't hold me responsible for yellow jack. So a few Indians and blacks came down with it. So what? The weak always die to make room for the fittest. Don't stand there and tell me it's all over. I'm a wealthy man, and I've got resources to build over again.”

“No, Carlyle, you
were
a wealthy man. Senora Banner is going to have her say about the management of the Reino from now on. It's over, Carlyle. Jamie's dead, and Carl is never coming back. You're alone.”

“Leave my house, Rivera. I don't want anything to do with you. I never did.” A lopsided sneer marked his face. “I know what you're, after. I always have. You've noticed the resemblance between us, others have. Well, it won't work. I wouldn't give you the air you breathe, and I wouldn't give you anything else, either. Not my time, my money, or
my name!”

“You goddamned, miserable bastard!” Sebastian thundered. “I wouldn't carry your name though I be damned to hell! There are those who believe you're my father, and in truth, I don't know if you are or not! I don't want any part of you or what you stand for. And what you stand for, Carlyle, has finished you here; the planters' association will see to it! Moments ago I told you Carl is never coming back, and it was the truth. He's on his way to Rio. An opportunity arose and he took advantage of it, with my assistance. Alicia is with him,” he said quietly, watching the Baron's face for his reaction. “You didn't know that, did you? You thought Carl would come whimpering back to you. You're slime, Newsome, and I should kill you, here and now. But killing is too good for you. I know what you've done; Alicia came to me and told me.”

Carlyle's mind raced. Rivera said Carl was with Alicia. No, it couldn't be! Not after he'd told Carl what kind of a woman she was ... It was a trick! “You'll say anything to try to get back at me, won't you? You've had little to complain about all these years. Old Farleigh Mallard left you his land, his house, he even educated you—but you've always had your sights set on the Reino Brazilia. All these years you've thought I was your father and you've wanted to claim what you thought was your rightful inheritance. Carl is my son. Jamie was my son. You're nothing but a bastard, born on the wrong side of the covers. Was it my fault that your mother was a whore!”

Sebastian's fist shot out and his aim was true, landing squarely on the Baron's chiseled jaw, followed with alacrity by a solid punch to his midsection. Gasping and heaving, the Baron fell backwards onto the sofa.

“I should kill you right now!” Sebastian shouted, “but I won't. You don't deserve to die an honorable death. But your day is coming, Carlyle. You're not dead yet! And when that day comes, you'll give me the pleasure of watching you suffer. I believe in divine retribution, Carlyle. Furthermore,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “I've never for one moment entertained the idea that you're my father. Now stand up and pretend to be a man. I have something else to say to you and I want you on your feet to hear it!”

The Baron struggled to his feet, one finely manicured hand holding his jaw. His eyes were full of hate as he stared at Sebastian. He waited.

“Carl won't be returning to the Casa. At my suggestion and with my help, he's decided to cut his losses. He's making a new life for himself and Alicia. If I have to, I will personally spend the rest of my life making certain the two of them are free of you. Alicia is of sound mind now, no thanks to you, and I intend for her to remain so.”

“She's a whore! A slut!” the Baron roared.

“Wrong! Whoremaster that you are, you would like to think so. You forced yourself on Alicia. There were no choices for her. Don't ever malign her again, or you'll have to deal with me. Go back to your precious Reino and pack your things. You're finished.”

“You think so, you bastard. Not yet. Royall will marry me and things will go on as before. I proposed to her the night of the Parradays' party. You should remember the party, Sebastian; that was the night she attacked you in the middle of the dance floor. Don't tell me what to do or where to go. And as for Carl, if he wants to live with a whoring twit, let him. They deserve each other. Now get your ass out of my house before I call the authorities. Oh, one last thing, Sebastian, I give you my word that Royall and I will name
our
firstborn after you. What do you think of that?”

“You mealy-mouthed, lying bastard!” Sebastian shouted. Rage engulfed him, causing him to lose all reason. His fist lashed out, knocking the Baron to the floor. Angrily, he reached down and pulled him erect. Again his fist shot out. Again and again he drove his fist into the Baron's soft belly. Each time his fist crunched bone, he cursed the most vicious words he knew.

“Senor! Senor!” the housekeeper had come running into the room, pulling his arms back to keep him from hitting the Baron again, to keep him from killing him. “Senor, please! You're killing him!” The housekeeper threw her weight against Sebastian, pushing her way between the Baron and this wild-eyed man whose fists were clenched, tough and hard knuckled.

The Baron took advantage of the woman's interference, backing away, cowering. His glance fell on his silver-handled walking stick, and he reached for it just as Sebastian brought his booted foot down on his hand.

“Fight like a man, damn you!” Sebastian cursed.

“Get out of here! Get out of my house!” the Baron's voice rasped, his cheek twitching.

“Damn right, I'm getting out of here. You're the slime of the earth. But I'm warning you, you'll never marry Royall. Even if I have to kill you myself. I won't wait for someone else to do it for me!”

Heaving with exertion and rage, Sebastian straightened his clothing, and without another glance in the Baron's direction, he stalked from the room, his stride angry and purposeful. Royall had accepted the Baron's proposal? And he had felt so sorry for her while she lay so sick. The man was lying; he had to be!

A bellow of rage ripped from his throat as he visualized Royall in the Baron's arms.

One weary day after another passed. Royall paced the wide veranda as she wiped at her perspiring brow. What was wrong with her? By now she should have been to town to see Mr. Morrison and get her affairs on the way to being settled. The heat was becoming unbearable as she paced the wide floor. A splash of color caught her eye behind one of the wicker chairs. With an effort, Royall bent down and reached beneath the chair. Her hands closed over something round and hard. When she held out her hand to inspect her find, she recoiled in horror. It was one of the scarlet and blue heads from a toy soldier. Before she could think or reconsider, she tossed it over the railing. How hateful the innocent piece of wood was; how dirty it made her feel. It was all over now. She had to put such thoughts from her mind and think of other things.

Dejectedly, she sat down in the white wicker chair. The crimson flowers on the rattan tables made her eyes ache. Other things. Other things meant the Baron and Sebastian. It was time to put her life in order and get on with whatever it was she was going to do. Tomorrow she would go to town and talk with Mr. Morrison. She would ask his advice and then follow it. On the way back from town she would stop by Mrs. Quince's plantation and perhaps stay for dinner and spend the night. If she had the nerve, the following day, she might, just might, stop at the Rivera plantation to see how the little girls were faring, especially Rosy. And that was another thing, she thought furiously; why hadn't Sebastian Rivera come by to thank her for returning the children? While there was no love between him and Jamie, it wouldn't have hurt him to stop by. I can't blame him, she muttered to herself. I'm just being selfish, wishing he would stop by so I could see him. He had no feeling for her, that was evident. Time and time again he had made a fool of her, and she had permitted it, even enjoyed it at the time.

Idly, Royall flicked at the pages of a book. She felt drowsy, unable to concentrate on the printed words in front of her. The heavy lashes lowered, and then she was asleep.

The sound of pounding hooves startled her later in the afternoon. Quickly, she sat up and rubbed her aching shoulders. She felt cramped and irritable, her damp dress clinging to her, making her perspire all the more. Moist tendrils of hair drooped over her forehead, giving her a gamin look. The very earth seemed to be shaking in front of the wide veranda. Perhaps it was Sebastian in one of his black fits of rage. If that was so, she would have to make herself presentable for his latest tirade against her.

Struggling from the wicker chair, she was halfway across the veranda when the rider came into view. Royall's eyes widened in shock. “The Baron!” she exclaimed. Should she run and warn Elena? A shadow fell across the bright floor. No need for Royall to call Elena, she was standing inside the door watching the rider dismount.

His gait was unsteady, his appearance such that Royall shuddered. There was nothing meticulous or dandyish about the Baron now. He was slovenly and filthy. A growth of beard straggled against his neck. It was his eyes that frightened Royall most as he stormed up the steps, shouting at the top of his lungs for Elena. Royall backed off several steps as Elena appeared from the doorway. Her hands were folded, almost as though she clasped them in prayer, below her waist. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“Is it true?” the Baron bellowed.

“If you're referring to Jamie's death, yes, it's true. We buried him at sunup nine days ago.”

“It's your fault, Elena, and you'll have to be punished for allowing Jamie to ride in the jungle. You were in charge of the boy. I trusted you with his well-being. You let this happen!” he spat. Suddenly, he brought up his hand and rendered a mighty blow to the side of her head. Elena gasped and fell backwards, landing with a thump against the door frame. “That's just for starters,” the Baron shouted. “I should kill you. But I won't. Prepare a bath for me. Now! Fetch me clean clothes and a bottle of brandy. Where is everyone?” he asked suddenly.

“If you mean the little girls, they're gone. Everyone is gone. Only Elena and myself, along with two stable boys, are left,” Royall snapped angrily. She loathed the Baron for his rough treatment of Elena, who looked dazed, not comprehending what was going on. Her hand was massaging her temple above her ear. Dear God, what if she was really hurt. Then it would just be herself and the Baron.

The Baron whirled around as though noticing Royall for the first time. “What do you mean they're gone? Where did they go?”

“They were sent back where they belong, to Regalo Verdad. The others just left in the middle of the night. Don't ask me for an accounting of your slaves, Baron. You lost that right the night we were informed of the yellow jack. You remember, the night when you said it was some small uprising. Well, that little uprising, as you call it, wiped out this plantation. I didn't try to stop any of those who wanted to leave. In fact, I gave them my blessing. It's over; there's nothing left for you here. I plan to dissolve this partnership. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to freshen up for dinner. In my room, Elena, if you're up to it. If not, I'll eat in the kitchen with you.” The housekeeper nodded, the first sign of life Royall had noticed in her since the Baron stomped his way up to the veranda.

“You'll pay for this. I know that Rivera, that bastard, is behind all of this. He's wanted my people for years, and now, thanks to you, his wishes have been granted. Elena, send the stable boys to his plantation and order my people returned to me, or I'll have the law set on him within the day.” It was an idle threat, and Elena knew it as did the Baron. It was something to say to save face in front of the American woman.

“I'm afraid that it's impossible. The Senora told you, everyone is gone. If you want anything from Senor Rivera, you will have to speak with him yourself,” Elena said quietly as she went through the door.

“You sicken me,” Royall hissed as she swept past him to follow Elena into the house. “Don't plan on striking me, for I'll give you back exactly what you mete out. I'm not Elena; I don't have to tolerate you. Not now, not ever. And, now, at this moment, I have the advantage. You're drunk!”

“How dare you speak to me in such a manner.” His hand shot out.

Royall, halfway through the doorway, neatly sidestepped and then stuck out a long leg. The Baron sprawled headfirst into the foyer. Curses rang through the stillness as Royall picked up her skirts as though he were vermin crawling at her feet. “Your position becomes you, Baron. Crawl and grovel, that's what you've been reduced to. Tomorrow it will be all over, Baron.”

Hatred spewed from the Baron's eyes as he struggled to his feet. Vile curses followed Royall and would ring in her ears for hours to come.

“Elena, are you all right?”

“There's no need for you to concern yourself about my well-being, Senora. I can and will manage.”

“I'm sure that you can, Elena. Please, let me help you with the water. I'll fetch it from the spring, and you can heat it. He does need a bath; he smells worse than all the jungle and stable put together. Elena, what are you doing to do?” Royall asked in a troubled tone.

“Do?” Elena asked, puzzled at the question.

“Yes, do. Are you going to stay here and continue to take the Baron's abuse? I'm not saying he would kill you, but there is that possibility. He's insane! I know for a fact that Mrs. Quince has been trying to find a suitable housekeeper for some time. I'm sure that if I spoke to her she would be more than glad to have you. I don't want anything to happen to you, Elena. I would feel responsible.”

Elena's dark eyes widened. “Senora, this is my home, the only home I've ever known. I couldn't leave for any reason. You need have no fear of the Baron killing me. Believe me when I tell you that will never happen.”

“Yes, I do believe you, but it doesn't make me worry less. I'll fetch the water, and while it's heating, I can help you with dinner.”

“It really is most kind of you, Senora. Tomorrow things will be better.”

“In a pig's eye,” Royall muttered sourly as she made her way to the spring for the pails of water. “It will never be better.”

 

On the afternoon after the Baron returned to the Reino, Royall was increasingly aware of the man's hostility. He watched her like a hawk, and as far as she could determine, he had had nothing to drink in the way of spirits since his return. As far as either Elena or herself knew, he had still not made a visit to Jamie's gravesite.

The Baron walked out onto the veranda and seated himself opposite her. Crossing one elegantly clad leg over the other, he leaned back, making a steeple of his fingers, and stared at her with sharp gray eyes.

“It's your fault my sons aren't here, Mrs. Banner. You and only you are responsible. First Carl and then Jamie. Carl would still be here on the Reino if you'd married him as I wanted. Jamie would still be alive if you hadn't tricked him into driving you back here the night of Rosalie's party.”

Royall bristled and faced him squarely. “You had no right to interfere in my life, Baron. The only reason you wanted Carl to marry me was because if I were a member of the family you wouldn't be forced to give me an accounting of my shares. As for Jamie, yes, I did trick him into bringing me back here. I'd do it again if need be. People are alive because Elena and I nursed them. You're an evil man, Carlyle. I'm not an overIy religious person, but I know that God has punished you by taking your sons from you.” She saw his hands clench into fists and his eyes harden.

“I wouldn't threaten me, Carlyle. Mr. Morrison and the Quinces already know about my situation. In fact, they've all warned me that I might be in danger.” Her voice became stern, authoritative, something the Baron was definitely not used to coming from a woman.

“I've already sent a message to Mr. Morrison in Manaus to see about dissolving my partnership in the Reino. You'll be well rid of me, I assure you. But I'm afraid you won't have much left. Without the support of the other planters, you're ruined. You know that, don't you?”

“Go! And good riddance to you! The Reino will be mine, and that's all I've ever really wanted.”

“You may have your plantation and it will crumble and fall around you. You'll rot along with it. Look in your mirror, Baron. You'll find the truth there. Sooner or later even Elena will leave you, and then you'll truly be alone, and God pity you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go for a ride.”

Royall walked down the few steps onto the lawn. As she skirted some thick foliage, her foot touched a pebble. It wasn't a pebble but the head of the toy soldier. Royall bent to pick it up. How she hated the touch. She turned and walked to stand beneath the railing at the Baron's back. “Baron, turn around, I want to give you a small memento.” She thrust out the tiny head and watched the Baron as he gazed at the small circle of wood. It was a mistake, Royall knew immediately. She had to get out of here before he came after her and thrashed her to death.

Royall saddled the big gray hastily. A strong wind whipped the heavy, emerald green foliage as the sun cast dappled patterns at the scattered pebbles at her feet. The gray snorted his impatience to be on his way. Royall gave him his head and rode from the clearing into the beginnings of a storm. Her thoughts as she rode leaped about in her mind as the strong wind whipped her hair about her face. She was glad she had made the decision to go riding, even if a storm was approaching. She couldn't stand another minute of the Baron's cruel and vengeful eyes.

The horse slowed as she veered to the left, taking Royall on a path she had never explored. A sudden depression settled over her as she allowed the gray to canter along at his own pace. She would miss Rosalie Quince and Alonzo. Even Elena, at first so distant and so resentful, had become a friend.

Most of all, she would miss Sebastian, regardless of his feelings toward her. She loved the man, respected him. Never to feel his arms around her or his mouth taking possession of hers again . . . Silently she grieved for what could have been.

Her attention was caught by a sudden drop of cold rain. She glanced upwards; there were dark, ominous clouds to the west. She had lost all track of time, and her first thought was to find shelter before the storm broke. Frantically, Royall looked about. Somehow the gray had wandered off the path and they were in the middle of a wide, overgrown meadow, the jungle on all sides. Elena had warned her of the sudden, terrible storms this time of the year.

The terrain was strange, and Royall knew she was lost. Her eyes raked the sky in panic. There was nothing to do but spur the horse forward and hope for the best. Suddenly, to her right, the stark outline of a dilapidated building appeared. Quickly, she reined in the horse before the decaying remains of the building. The jungle had advanced and smothered the darkened,.charred beams of the once luxurious plantation. From the lines of the building and from the way Jamie had described it, Royall knew she was looking at the original Casa. Royall frowned. For some reason she had thought the entire building had been gutted. From where she was standing it seemed like the “big fire” Jamie spoke of had just ruined the south wing of the sprawling building.

It must have been beautiful in its day, Royall thought as she dismounted. Holding the reins, she led the horse inside the building, not wanting to leave him outside in the storm. Would there be snakes and rodents inside? She shivered at the thought. Seeing a stout tree branch at her feet, she bent to pick it up. What good it would be against a coiled hissing snake she didn't know, but she did feel better with it in her hand. It was getting darker by the moment. If only she had a candle. She must find a spot and settle herself before the storm let loose its rage. A place where she wouldn't fall and kill herself. When the storm lessened, she would take stock of her situation and explore this once grand house. The thought excited her. She had heard so many tales from Mrs. Quince about the wonderful balls that were held and the magnificent chandelier that was in the center hallway. The gray wickered in fright as she continued to lead him into the main building, which still had the roof intact.