Love's Fiery Jewel (13 page)

The creeping light of dawn rapidly moved across the
gray sky, faintly illuminating the familiar street as Tillie
made her way with unerring purpose toward the small
frame house that was her home. Entering quickly, she
moved to her room off the kitchen. Immediately
stripping off her clothes, she filled the small basin on the
washstand and commenced bathing fastidiously. She
could leave no trace of the previous night's activities on
her clear, light brown skin. Darting a glance to the
clothing lying on the floor near her feet, she appraised
the dirt stains and small pieces of vegetation adhering to
their surface, the result of her frantic bout with Pucku
possession, and realized she would have to wash them
quickly before Amethyst awoke. Amethyst was aware of
her attendance at the cult rituals but was extremely
apprehensive because of the danger involved. Tillie did
not wish to add another worry to the list already besetting her high spirited soul-child. What was more, should
Amethyst become aware she had approached the
medicine man on her account, Tillie would be in for a
battle.

Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, Tillie extracted
the shriveled fowl's foot and stared at it thoughtfully.
Her mission had been successful. She had obtained a
powerful charm. Captain Straith's obeah could not harm
Amethyst while she kept it near.. .but convincing
Amethyst to keep it with her was another problem she
had yet to face.

Taking the large cloth from the side of the washstand,
Tillie began to dry herself, her mind moving to the
picture of Raymond's tall powerful figure as she slowly
moved the cloth across her faultless cocoa-colored skin.
As strongly as she denied it, Raymond was her man.
Having grown up on the same plantation, the feeling
between them had started young, despite their divergent
lives. Progressing from friendship to adolescent attracttion, the strong feeling between them had matured into a
firm though unacknowledged bond of love. They both
realized their relationship could not pass beyond its
present boundaries, and except for occasional bouts of
defiance against the cruel twist of fate that had trapped
her into subservience to the powerful emotion that
existed between them, Tillie had come to accept her lot.
Extremely beautiful in her youth, her splendidly
sculptured face, creamy brown skin, large, velvety black
eyes and tall, graceful stature had earned her many
proposals of marriage from within the large mulatto
community in Kingston. Having long since left her youth
behind, Tillie was still beautiful, and still unmarried. It
was unfair! Her dark eyes filling with unexpected tears,
Tillie pulled on her clothes in sudden anger. Raymond
was more man than all the dandified mulatto men on the
island put together, but there was no chance for a life between a Negro slave and a free mulatto on the island.
Unexpectedly recalling the fury on her father's face
when she had declared her adolescent attraction to the
handsome black buck Raymond had become, a spontaneous shudder shook her sturdy frame. Ashamed of the
weakness that still prevailed at the vivid memory, Tillie
mumbled under her breath, "Tillie Swann be grown
woman now and lead her own life. No matter what
anyone say, Raymond the man fe me..."

The sound of stirring in the next room breaking into
her thoughts, Tillie quickly rolled her soiled clothes into
a ball and pushed them under the bed. Smoothing back
the stray wisps of hair at her hairline, she hastily checked
her appearance in the small washstand mirror. Satisfied
she was presentable in her fresh skirt and blouse, she
picked up the shriveled charm and slipped it into her
pocket. Finally drawing her tall frame to its full,
impressive height, Tillie took a deep breath, opened her
bedroom door, and walked casually into the kitchen.

Inspecting her appearance critically in the long mirror
behind stage, Amethyst adjusted the neckline of the plain
dark gown that would serve as the costume of a maid in
the absence of something more suitable. She nodded
unconsciously in approval and adjusted the small white
apron. There would be little or no criticism of the fact
that the costumes worn by the actors were contemporary, although the action of Othello being performed that night was laid in Venice and Cyprus of a
bygone period. These inconsistencies of dress did not
bother the Kingston audiences who were aware of the
company's limited wardrobe. Neither were they bothered
by the inadequate scenery consisting of a large cloth
painted appropriately, serving as a backdrop, and two
large shutters that when pushed together formed one
continuous wall at the back of the stage. The per formance was in progress and Amethyst was presently
concealed, awaiting her cue, behind one of a series of
wing pieces painted in an almost unidentifiable design to
match the backdrop.

The theater was almost filled to capacity. David
Douglass's performance of Othello was well known for its
excellence, and had drawn a full house. This being the
first of many walk-ons Amethyst was to do that night, she
had not had an opportunity to view the audience and was
slowly scanning the faces of the 300-odd spectators when
an elbow jabbed her sharply in the ribs, turning her to the
enthusiastic expression of Sally Warren, another of the
"walking ladies" in the troupe.

"Did you look at the box to the right of the stage,
Amethyst? Lord, but there's a handsome gent sitting
there." Giggling annoyingly, Sally continued with a
small wink, "Do you think he might have a preference for
actresses? I wouldn't mind keeping that young buck
company tonight!"

Sally Warren was nineteen, three years older than
Amethyst, but in looking at the bright young face painted
garishly under a full head of curly blonde hair, and the
ripe young figure displayed to best advantage in the tight
purple dress she wore, Amethyst felt ages older. Sally was
a sweet girl, but her main problem was that she seemed to
have a similar enthusiasm for a great many of the male
faces looking back at them from the audience. And, all
the worse, seemed determined to make her rounds until
she had satisfied her curiosity with each and every one of
them that was of a mind to cooperate!

Shaking her head, Amethyst looked into the pale blue
eyes staring longingly past her face into the box at the
side of the stage. "Do you mean to say," Amethyst began
pointedly, "...that this fellow is even better looking
than the one you singled out last week... and the one
the week before... and the week before...?"

Pulling her eyes back to Amethyst, Sally grumbled
with a short show of irritation, "Oh, come now,
Amethyst, just because you have a steady beau that
comes to almost every performance... and a beautiful
man he is, too..." Sally's voice began to lighten as her
thoughts drifted in contemplation of William Sheridan's
vibrant good looks, "...well, you don't have to be so
hard on a poor girl who's still searching for her true
love."

With a short laugh, Amethyst said lightly, "Sally,
dear, my only fear is that you will wear yourself out with
this intense search you are conducting."

"Oh, Amethyst," Sally giggled again, finally accepting
with her usual good humor the subtle digs Amethyst
directed at her promiscuity, "be a good girl now and take
a look at this fellow. You'll see what I mean."

Nodding absentmindedly, Amethyst's eyes scanned
the audience systematically, moving first over the pit
seats directly in front of the stage, then to the better seats
in the boxes that formed a horseshoe curving from one
side of the stage to the other, and on to the gallery above
the boxes, her eyes jerking back to the box to the right of
the stage in abrupt recognition of the face that had just
turned back in her direction. Her heart pounding wildly
in her chest, she stared at the unmistakable features of
Damien Straith!

"You see him now, don't you, Amethyst? Devastating,
isn't he, with those odd light eyes that send little shivers
right up your spine? And do you see the breadth of his
shoulder and chest? A real man he is. I bet he..."

Sally's enthusiasm bubbled on while her voice drifted
from Amethyst's ear. Quickly running her eyes back
along the line of boxes, her glance finally came to rest on
William's familiar, handsome countenance. He was
seated in his usual box and had probably just entered the
theater, for she had not seen him on her first perusal of the audience. Unconsciously uttering a small sigh of
relief at the moral support of his presence, Amethyst
turned her attention hack to her babbling friend.

"...can tell me who he is. I'm sure he's not been here
before. I could not have forgotten that face..."

"I can tell you who he is, Sally." Amethyst's voice was
deceptively casual. "He's Captain Damien Straith of the
ship Sally. Now isn't that a coincidence?"

Her eyes flaring wide with surprise, Sally giggled again,
tossing her blonde curls with a new confidence. "Well,
what do you know? That fine looking gentleman might
just have a weakness for girls by the name of Sally!"

"If you're smart, you'll stay away from him,"
Amethyst warned with sudden seriousness. "He's a bad
one, a real womanizer. He..."

Suddenly interrupting Amethyst's negative statement
with a horrified gasp, Sally stuttered unexpectedly,
"Amethyst... quick! That's your cue!"

Startled as she turned toward the stage to see Othello
awaiting the maid's entrance, Amethyst burst onto the
stage in a sudden rush, stopping abruptly midway across
to commence the measured pace her role demanded. The
quick chorus of laughter her unorthodox entrance drew
from the crowd brought a spontaneous frown to David
Douglass's face, tightening even further the lump that
suddenly choked her throat. Managing to continue
casually across the stage as she had done many times,
Amethyst was about to lift a small tray from the table
when Othello turned to speak to Desdemona. Unexpectedly catching her foot on the hem of her dress,
Amethyst stumbled momentarily, and watched in horrified embarrassment as the tray and its noisy contents
tumbled to the floor in a crash that effectively drowned
out Othello's adamant declaration. The laughter grew
louder as her apprehensive glance slid slowly to Othello's
reddening face, and burst into loud guffaws as she stooped to scramble awkwardly for the metal goblet that
had rolled between his feet. Standing abruptly, she was
face to face with David Douglass's livid expression, the
fury in his haughty eyes the final straw that pushed her
over the edge. With a quick turn, Amethyst bent to scoop
up the contents of the tray in one fell swoop and beat a
hasty retreat from his freezing glance. Suddenly regaining her composure, she came to a jerking halt at the wings
and turning, directed a curtsey to the glaring Othello,
managing in the effort to send the contents of the tray
again crashing to the floor. The roar of laughter that
shook the theater as Amethyst scrambled wildly to
retrieve the fallen articles, followed her out the wings as
she made her ignominious exit.

Finally settling down, the audience had once again
turned its attention back to Othello when a small thread
of laughter started across the room. Unaware of the
reason for the growing hilarity, the small, slender hand
reaching out surreptitiously from the wings continued to
search blindly for the last goblet that had escaped
retrieval when it had rolled onto the forestage. Finally
pushed beyond restraint by the growing laughter and the
furtive hand, Othello marched boldly across stage,
speaking his lines through clenched teeth as he gave the
elusive goblet a sharp kick, sending it bouncing noisily
into the wings. The searching hand froze momentarily,
disappearing suddenly in a movement so rapid that the
entire house was brought to sustained, convulsive
laughter which finally ended in a round of enthusiastic
applause. Turning to offer a low, prolonged bow, Othello
then resumed his performance with remarkable aplomb.

Standing wide-eyed in the wings, Amethyst was
astounded by the events that had just progressed on
stage. She had been performing for years without fault!
What had come over her? Hardly able to believe her own
wildly amateurish performance, she covered her eyes in dismay, tears choking her throat. She had disgraced
herself! She had disgraced her father's good name! The
first set of disastrous circumstances had been bad
enough. What had possessed her to attempt to retrieve
that missing goblet from backstage? Possessed her...
Suddenly leaning forward, Amethyst shot a furtive
glance into the box to the opposite side of the stage, and
met head on the translucent, sardonic gaze of Damien
Straith. Quickly jerking back her head, Amethyst missed
completely the small, amused smile that flashed momentarily across his dry expression.

It was all his fault! Her mind flashed back to Tillie's
warnings of that same afternoon when the worried
woman had attempted to persuade her to carry that
ghastly chicken's foot on her person as protection from
Damien Straith's obeah, but Amethyst quickly subdued
the niggling worry that Tillie might possibly be right.
Obeah! It was all superstitious nonsense! She had heard
her mother say that time and time again, charging that it
was a person's own fear that allowed the "obeah" to gain
control of his person. Tillie must have unconsciously
instilled a fear in her that had set off the chain of
unfortunate circumstances once she had realized Damien
Straith was in the audience. Well, she would not allow it
to happen again! She would have several opportunities to
redeem herself tonight, and she would show Damien
Straith that he could not intimidate Amethyst Greer!

Moving quickly to the small dressing room that
accommodated the lesser female members of the troupe,
Amethyst snatched her new sapphire blue gown from the
rack. Quickly jerking off the somber black dress,
Amethyst pulled the new gown over her head. Hastily
taking a brush to her gleaming black tresses, she swept
them into a graceful pompadour that softly framed her
face, accenting the fragile curve of her cheek and the
wide amethyst eyes that reflected the color of her dress, glowing a truer sapphire than the garment itself. Slipping
a matching ostrich feather into the back of her elegant
coiffeur, she turned to appraise herself critically. The
dress had been made specifically for her after her
acceptance as a full-fledged member of the troupe, and
she was to wear it that night. Possessed of a clear, sweet
singing voice that had charmed audiences into keeping
their seats between acts since the age of ten, Amethyst
had finally been given that spot on the program as her
own. Always having performed in outrageous costumes
due to her youth, she had been almost unrecognizable as
the beautiful young woman she had become, and
realizing the potential of Amethyst's unusual beauty,
David Douglass had authorized the purchase of the
startling gown she was now wearing for the first time.
Stepping back to assess herself more fully, Amethyst
gave a small astonished gasp. The splendid garment
cupped the smooth curve of her shoulders enticingly, the
neckline plunging deeply to expose the fullness of her
smooth white breasts to an alarming degree. The bodice
dipped to a tight deep point at her waist, emphasizing its
narrowness from which the skirt flared out to float
lightly to small feet encased in matching blue slippers.
Dispersed sparingly over the entire surface of the
garment, brilliants were concentrated mainly at the
daring neckline to outline the graceful swell that indeed
appeared as if it would escape the bounds of the glorious
gown at the slightest provocation. Astounded by the
image that peered back at her from the mirror, Amethyst
stared in amazement, her incredulous expression slowly
changing to a small, confident smile.