The black swan (31 page)

"Yes, Miss Dulcie and I are goin' to have a quiet talk," said Leroy.

Dulcie eyed him with some misgivings as the others left them alone.

"Let's take a little stroll, shall we. Miss Dulcie? The breeze down by the folly is mighty pleasant."

"Fine, Leroy. But we can't linger. I've promised the very next dance to Andrew Whitaker."

Gallantly he held out his arm. They walked slowly over the grass, blue with moonlight. "Miss Dulcie, there's some-thin' I've been thinkin' on."

She said nervously, "Leroy, do you know anythin' about stars? There's one big bright one peepin' over the top of the folly."

"No, ma'am, I don't know very much about stars. But I been thinkin' about this for some long time now, an'—"

"It's real bright, and almost red—'*

"An* what I think is, it might be pretty nice."

"Oh, look, the sky is just full of them!'*

His voice was reproachful. "Miss Dulcie honey, you aren't payin' no never mind to what I'm sayin*. I'm gonna have to remedy that.**

Dulcie gulped, and grasped at one last straw. "I*m sorry, Leroy, it's just that the night is so beautiful— ^*

"It*s like every other autumn night. If you want to talk about somethin' beautiful, we'll talk about you, Miss Dulcie. You're the most beautiful critter that ever walked the earth.**

"Why, th-thank you.'*

"I want you to consent to be my wife.*'

Her careful training was doing her no good this evening. In fact, it had hardly done her any good all day long. She said breathlessly, "I didn't know you were interested in me!"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm interested. Mighty interested. I like the way you talk an* laugh an' the way you move an' sit a horse an' dance. 'Specially the way you dance, an' fit so fine in my arms—sort of like this."

His arms encircled her, his face came near, shadowed in the deep twilight of the folly. She smelled the spicy tang of his shaving lotion, felt the strength of his arms. She shivered with a sensation so alien, yet so familiar, she didn't dare think of the man who had first stirred it "Leroy, you're presumin'— *'

"You've got fine spirit, admirable sphit I've been ad-

mirin' since you were fourteen. I figger I'm jes' about what you need."

"You mustn't hold me so close—**

"Sweetheart, you don't seem to be gettin' it through your lovely head that I'm declarin' my love for you and askin' you to be Mrs. Leroy Biggs."

"Leroy . . . this is so—unexpected."

He was holding her against him now, and somehow it wasn't totally unpleasant. "Don't you think that sounds fine? Dulcie Biggs?"

Leroy lips were on hers in a kiss that was not suitable to give a lady, and his hard-muscled arms embraced her with an insistence completely incompatible with the South-em idea of feminine fragility. She tried to turn away, but his mouth stayed on hers until she realized she was kissing him back. Oh, it was thrilling to feel the hot chills in one's stomach and the shaking of the knees and the breathless-ness that went with the first real kiss!

Leroy finally stopped kissing her, but he still held her, his face inches away from hers, his panted breath fanning her. "Miss Dulcie, dearest Dulcie, forgive me. But I love you so much . . . Dulcie!"

Dulcie, dazed with some unmentionable desire, some hot longing so new to her that she didn't even know what she longed for, raised her mouth eagerly for him to kiss.

They stood fused in the moonlight. The music had stopped. Light chatter and laughter floated toward the folly. She pulled away, coming groggily to her senses. "Leroy, I've got to go in! I told Andrew I'd— **

Leroy chuckled. "That was three dances back! Forget about Andrew. You came out here to be with me. You will marry me?"

"I ... I can't. I just—"

"You jes' need time. I'll give you time, Dulcie. Ill give you a lot of things." Teasingly he pecked at her cheek. His eyes twinkled in the soft light "Do you like the way I kiss you?"

Dulcie stood dumbstruck.

Leroy grinned. "I got the idea you want me to kiss you some more."

There was nothing Dulcie could say except, "Oh, Leroy!"

"Guess we better do that again," he murmured. His hands slid gently up the sides of her waist under her breasts.

"No! Please. I've absolutely got to go back into the house. Mama will be in a takin'! Could I give you your—" she gulped—"your answer later on? Next week maybe?"

"I can wait. Long's it's not too long."

Dulcie moved with unseemly haste. At the outside entrance to the servants' stairway she excused herself. "I'll just go fix my hair."

"You look beautiful to me." Leroy moved toward her.

Dulcie's teeth were chattering with nervousness. She escaped ignominiously and lifted her skirts to skim up the stairway to her room. "Claudine!" Where was she? She sat down and began gingerly to try to restore order to her hair. She banged the hairbrush down. "Claudine!"

Claudine came out of her dressing room, blinking sleep from her eyes. "Miss Dulcie, Ah never heard you call. Why din't you call me?"

"I did! Do something with my hair. Le—I've got it all tangled."

"Mastah Glenn he'p you do this to yo' hair, Miss Dulcie?"

"Glenn! I forgot about Glenn. Oh, Claudine, do hurry!"

"Ah cain't hurry 'lessen you hoi' still. You ain't been messin' 'round with dat stranger agin, has you?"

By the time Dulcie came downstairs, the music had begun again, and Glenn was standing alone, looking desolate. She went straight to him. Halfway across the room she saw Leroy, dancing with Roberta. His eye caught hers, holding it until Dulcie, blushing guiltily, was forced to look away.

At the end of the minuet, Andrew and Lowell both came to claim their dances. Then Glenn was back. "Would you like to sit this one out with me?"

Dulcie felt sorry for Glenn. He was fond of her and, given the slightest encouragement, would hang around her forever. But one proposal—so unexpected and still to be answered—was all she could cope with. "That's a very kind offer, but I promised Daddy this dance."

"Dulcie, I want to talk with you!" he pleaded.

Jem came up, beaming and smelling of liquor, and put his arm affectionately around his daughter. "Don't tell your mama I said so, but you're every bit as pretty as she is!" He winked. "Don't you think so?"

Glenn said sadly, "With all due respect, prettier, Mr. Moran."

Jem laughed. "For that, I'll give you my dance with her."

"Daddy! You mean you'd dance with every woman in the county tonight and not even once with your own daughter?"

Jem looked pleased. "Put that way, I've got no choice." He whirled off with Dulcie, his feet a little awkward from the punch bowl.

Then came the last waltz before midnight supper, and Leroy to claim it. He held her lightly, correctly, never touching her body with his. Yet she was acutely aware of his muscular arms and the hard chest under his frock coat, and the warm glow that suffused his face and hers whenever their eyes met.

At the end of the dance he bowed low, took her hand, and kissed it. "You won't forget my answer, Dulcie?"

She smiled at him, reveling in his self-assured virility. "I'll remember."

Hours later, lying in bed still awake and going over every minute of the day and evening, especially the evening, Dulcie felt herself go warm. The man in the loft didn't seem so terrible now. Suddenly she realized he had awakened her to something she really wanted.

"I'm fallin' in love!" she whispered to the gray dawn. "In love with Leroy Biggs!"

Chapter Three

Dulcie slept past noon, woke full of vigor, and sprang out

of bed. What she wanted most of all, after a warm bath

and breakfast, was a long horseback ride.

"Get out my riding habit, Claudine. I'll be going by

myself," she added firmly, knowing fuU well Claudine's

response.

"No'm, you ain't. Last time Mastah Jem 'bout took a

chunk o' mah hide."

"Oh, he did not! He's never touched a servant in his

life."

"Ah knows dat, but he was thinkin' 'bout it.'*

"Well, I need to be by myself this morning."

"Miss Dulcie, Ah 'predates yo' needs, but mo* Ah 'pre-

ciates Mastah Jem's head this mawnin'. He had hisseff a pow'ful good time yestiddy."

"You'll have to keep your mouth shut, then."

After a silence while she helped Dulcie into her riding breeches, Claudine asked, "Did Mastah Glenn p'pose to you?"

Dulcie smiled. "No, he didn't."

"He was jes' bustin' to ask you!" Dulcie continued to smile.

"Somebody else proposed."

"Mastah Todd? Mastah Cedric?"

"Give up, Claudine. It was Leroy Biggs."

"Mastah Leroy! Din't never think he gwine settle down to one woman. Bes' you watch yo'seff." She brushed Dulcie's hair with needless vigor.

Dulcie said dreamily. "He asked me beautifully. Very romantic, out in the moonlight by the folly."

"Yes'm, that's where he'd want you to be,"

"Everything was proper!"

Claudine wasn't impressed. "You didn't lead him on none. Miss Dulcie?"

"Lead him on? Claudine, I tried to lead him o§! But he had his mind make up,"

"What you say to him?"

"I told him I'd think about it. And that's why I want to ride alone."

"Mastah Jem won't let you marry him, so's you doan have to think on it."

"Why not?" Dulcie's eyes met Claudine's, startled. "Le-roy's a good person, kind, prosperous—^his daddy gave him a quarter of their plantation when he turned twenty-one, you remember."

"Iffen Mastah Leroy had niggers choppin' cotton ovah de entire state of Jaw]ah, Mastah Jem still say no. He wants you to marry Mastah Glenn."

"Oh, Glenn! Glenn is nothing but a big—^white-livered —poop!"

"You din't say dat yestiddy, Miss Dulcie."

"Oh, I know, but he makes me so angry. I wish he'd do—somthin'!"

Claudine giggled. "Mastah Leroy musta done a fine job kissin' you. You sho' look like it when you come tearin' upstairs last evenin'."

"Just fix my hair. I knew I didn't want to talk to you about it."

Dulcie had already made up her mind she would take a long ride. She had to figure out a way of wording her reply to Leroy, something nearly as important as deciding what her decision would be. Claudine rode at her side. Not only did she respect Dulcie's need for privacy, but she was far more interested in one of the young men working in the field.

"Miss Dulcie, you still wantin' to be alone?"

"Since you've tagged along, that's hardly worth answering, is it?"

"Could be it is. We's far 6nuf from de big house now, your daddy won't see. Could be Ah'll go visitin' some o* de fiel' ban's . . . iffen you wants to be alone," Claudine said sweetly.

Dulcie's eyes twinkled. "My, but you're considerate of my wishes suddenly, Claudine. There must be a reason."

"Nary a one," Claudine said sincerely.

Dulcie giggled. "Do you mean there are two?"

"Miss Dulcie! Mastah Jem doan 'low me to fool with no nigger bucks. He'd skin me an' use mah hide fo' a umbrella stand."

"An' youah skeered o' Mastah Jem, aren't you?" Dulcie mocked.

By the time Claudine returned from her rendezvous, Dulcie had decided she would tell Leroy she wasn't ready to marry but he was welcome to call on her. It was almost an understanding, but she would have time to see if being in love with a man's kisses was as satisfactory as liking the man you might marry. Until she was promised to him, she could still be friends with other men as well. One thing Dulcie knew for certain: She liked the attentions of many men.

When Claudine and Dulcie rode out of the trees, they spotted Hersel heading quickly for the stables. Then Asa furtively disappeared behind Fellie's cobbler's shop.

"They're certainly acting strange."

"Yes'm, Miss Dulcie, dat's a fact."

"Something's wrong . . . and you know about it! What is it?"

Claudine shrugged. "Nothin' you 'n' me kin do 'bout it, so I doan tell you an' 'stress you."

"Claudine! Tell me!"

"Mastah Jem gwine sell 'bout twenny niggers t'morra.*'

Dulcie looked confused. There was nothing unusual about Jem selling Negroes. "That has you and Asa and Hersel stirred up? Why?"

Through tears, Claudine blubbered out, "Ruel ... an* Jothan, dey's—"

"No!" Dulcie had played with Jothan until she was nine years old, and forbidden near the quarters. He and Ruel were the oldest sons of Fellie and Ester. They were family —certainly not to be thought of as the slaves bred especially for sale.

"iLige, Zekel, Mag 'cause she cain't breed, Eggar. De res' of 'em's fiel' ban's,"

"But Jothan and Ruel!"

"Miss Dulcie, dey's old enuf to be selled, so Mastah Jem gwine sell 'em."

"He—he can't," Dulcie whispered, stricken.

"Mistah Spig Hurd comin' in de mawnin'."

Into Dulcie's mind flashed a picture of Spig Kurd's wagon coming years ago, that time he had hauled off Mammy and her newborn baby. "I'll . . . talk to Daddy," she said uncertainly.

"Save yo' breaf to cool yo' coffee, Miss Dulcie."

Dulcie found Jem on the veranda with Wolf, the overseer. She disliked Wolf intensely, a surly, obsequious man who sometimes whipped the field hands, though Jem would not let him touch the higher class servants. Now Wolf rose, touching his hat with one black-nailed hand. "G'day, Miss Dulcie. Ah'Il do what you tol' me, Mistah Moran. Ah sho'ly will, right off. Yes, indeed!" He hurried away.

Jem smiled affectionately at his daughter. "Did you like your party yesterday?"

"Oh, it was wonderful! You and Mama gave me the nicest birthday celebration any girl ever had. Didn't you see the jealous faces of the Whitaker girls? And I thought Birdie's cousin Roberta was just going to turn green and expire on the spot. It was perfect."

Jem laughed appreciatively. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"Daddy," Dulcie began seriously, "I want to talk to you about something . . . important."

"I thought you might. Young Saunders asked for your hand?"

"No, Daddy, it's not about Glenn, it's—"

"He didn't? The whelp! He asked my consent yesterday. He hasn't been soft-soapin' me so he can trifle with you, has he, Dulcie?"

"Glenn? Oh, never Glenn, Daddy, he's very sincere. I just didn't give him a chance to say anything. He will, though, sometime."

Satisfied, Jem sat back and regained his smile. "Then, it must be Leroy Biggs you're wantin' to talk about."

"Daddy!" Dulcie said in exasperation. "Is Spig Hurd coming tomorrow?"

Jem's face took on a stem look. "Spig Hurd is no concern of yours."

"Is it true, Daddy?"

"Claudine has been talking to you. Well, Miss, it isn*t her place to talk, nor yours to listen to darky gossip."

"Are you going,to sell some of the children?"

"Children! The only one under fifteen is Eggar, and he's a poor specimen I'm glad to get rid of."

"And Fellie's boys? What of them? Ruel is fourteen, and both he and Jothan are fine servants. Why are you going to sell Fellie's sons?"

Jem, flushed and uncomfortable, tested his reasoning aloud for the first time. "Dulcie, no planter, especially one with a breeding farm, can become attached to his slaves. That's something you'll have to think about. Someday Mossrose will be yours. If you get to feeling they're family, when it comes time to sell them off, you can't do it. YoU've got big money invested and can't get anything out of it until they're sold."