The black swan (66 page)

"We were married, sir," Adam said, smiling.

"You picked a fine way to do it, I must say. Dragging her off in public, getting shot at. I don't suppose you bothered with a minister?"

Adam laughed. "No, sir. Ship's captain. First-class all the way."

Oliver smiled grudgingly. "Damn blackguard—^you might as well come in. Mad! Oh, Mad! Come meet Dul-cie's husband!"

Mad was not in the least taken in. "Oh, is Adam here?"

Only Claudine, standing with unusual diffidence in the

hall listening to their conversation, did not seem glad of~ his marriage or relieved that Dulcie was safe. She stared at Adam with eyes that held hurt—and challenge.

Whatever was bothering her, he'd like to get it settled before he was stuck with her in Nassau. He could manage Dulcie and Glory together, but he didn't need a sullen black girl to confound the problem.

Shortly he excused himself from Mad and Oliver. Claudine was in a bedroom packing two large trunks. She looked up at him, startled, then kept her eyes on her work.

"You heard me say Miss Dulcie wants you with her in Nassau?"

"Yassuh."

"You don't have to go unless you want to."

"Ah knows that." She was almost insolent.

"And I don't have to take you, no matter what Dulcie wants.'*

She stopped folding the cambric nightgown. ''Nossuh,'* she whispered.

"How do you feel about it? Do you want to go with me, or stay here?"

"Ah does anythin' you tells me, Mastah Adam."

Damn women! Ladies were secretive and indirect enough, let alone their servants. He glared at Claudine's defenseless neck. "We leave in two hours."

Upon his return to Nassau he saw the two bright heads covered with frothy bonnets, one dressed in green, the other in blue. He expected Glory to come leaping to meet him, but it was Dulcie who sprang from the carriage, to run and collide with him breathlessly, her arms going around his neck, her bonnet knocked askew.

"Qb, Adam!" she cried between kisses. "It's been so long!"

"Did you miss me?" he teased.

"Oh, yes— yes! Did you miss me?'*

"How could I not?" He kissed the end of her pert nose. "Missus Tremain, the captain's middlin' glad to see you."

Ehilcie laughed. Then she saw Claudine, standing respectfully back, and reached out to hug her. "Claudine, you'll love Nassau! Did you have a good voyage?"

Claudine beamed, looking around. "Yes'm, Miss Dulcie, Mastah Adam jes' took that boat through them waves slick

as a ironin' bo'd. Lemme fix yo' bonnet. You got it all caddy wampus."

Dulcie set her own headgear straight. "Glory, this is Claudine, the best maid anybody ever had. Claudine, meet Miss Glory Hallalooya." She watched Claudine's face, waiting for the effect of Glory's name.

Claudine started to smile and quickly turned it into a cough with her hand over her mouth. But Glory laughed in delight, and the others joined her. In his absence, Adam noticed, Dulcie and Glory had become close friends. Not too close, he hoped, thinking of Glory's usual after-dark activities.

"What have you been doing?" he asked in the carriage.

"Glory and I went shoppin' twice, and she helped me serve tea to the blockade runners' wives one afternoon."

Adam raised his eyebrows. "Glory? Or Miss Eleanor Brooker?"

Glory's laughter pealed out happily. "I was Miss Brooker that day. In a prim gray dress, Adam! Can you imagine that?"

"I'd rather not. Sounds as if you've been under deteriorating influences."

Dulcie made a face at him.

In the hotel lobby Glory deserted them, explaining that Beau would be waiting. "He needs somebody experienced. He's so sweet and innocent!"

Adam, recalling some of Beau's more spectacular whorehouse feats, could hardly keep his face straight. He asked teasingly, "Like Johnny Packer?"

"Oh, but Johnny was just a little boy! Adam, you're awful!" Still giggling, she whisked around a corner.

In the suite Adam pointed to a small room. "You'll sleep there."

"Ah he'p Miss Dulcie with her dress," Claudine said, looking stubborn.

"Miss Dulcie will call you when she needs you." •

Alone with him, Dulcie said, "Poor Claudine. Thrown out of her job by a big, muscular, gorgeous man" She laid her head on Adam's shoulder. "Oh, my love, it's so empty without you. I've been so frightened for you."

He untied her bonnet and flung it onto a chair, then began plucking out the heavy horn hairpins until her hair tumbled onto her shoulders. He put both hands on her

face, with his fingers up into her hair. With his thumbs he gently stroked the smooth freckles over her cheeks. "I'd come back to you, you know," he said earnestly. "No matter whatever might happen, I'd always come back to you."

Her eyes searched his. "Adam, do you love me as much as I love you?"

"Ask me m fifty years," he replied softly. "If you still need to ask."

Much later Dulcie said, "Are you ready for your surprise now?"

Adam lay on his back, his hands dangling over either side of the bed. "Didn't I just have it?"

She giggled. "I made somethin' for you. Every evenin' I'd think of you and work on it It was somethin' to keep you close to me."

"A ball and chain."

She scrambled off the bed, and he watched the tilting motion of her rounded buttocks as she walked to the dressing room. She came back, one hand behind her, and as he watched her breasts bounce pleasantly, he said, "This must be captain's paradise."

She grinned, holding out a vest of finest white ribbed silk, hand embroidered with moss roses in shades of pink and cream.

He put it on. Over a shirt it would fit him perfectly. "Dulcie mea, you're a wonder." He laid the vest down carefully. "But modest as I am, I believe I deserve somebody as nice as you." He hugged her, his face buried in the sweet, perfumed place between her breasts. She held him there, stroking his hair, for a long time.

"Adam, did you mail my letter?"

"Yes, from Wilmington. Your parents may have it by now."

"Tell me about everythin'."

"The Yankees have replaced Major Anderson in Kentucky with General Sherman. Sherman's an Ohioan, a West Pointer, a Mexican War veteran. His last job was as president of a street railway in St. Louis. He's got some peculiarities, a nervous, twitchy man, I've heard. He probably won't last long in command, though it'll be a good thing for the South.'*

"Are there others like him?"

"I haven't heard. There's General George McClellan. He's the man who organized the Army of the Potomac.

Now he's general-in-chief of the army. If he continues as well as he started, the South's in trouble."

"And the battles since I left the States?" It came out so easily, she thought; none of the homesickness showed yet

"The Confederates took Ball's Bluff. The Union officer. Stone, sent a regiment across the river without providing a way to return. We attacked from the bluff and slaughtered nearly half of them."

"Don't tell me more. Adam, did you get shot at?"

"Yes, love, and missed. Now let's plan for tonight. Any parties?"

"Beau mentioned a cockfight. Do ladies get to go here m Nassau?"

"They do everything else. I don't see why not. We'll go if you like." He stood up, pulling on trousers. "For now let's go for a horseback ride. I need the wind in my teeth today."

She dressed quickly in the silver and gray outfit he had had made.

As she entered the parlor, Dulcie was surprised to see Claudine rise from a straight chair. She had forgotten her maid's existence.

"Them trunks come, Miss Dulcie," she said sullenly.

"Well, unpack them, Claudine. We're goin' ridin'."

"Miss Dulcie, you ain't gwine on no street in no git-up like that."

Dulcie smiled. "All the ladies wear this kind of outfit now."

"Yo' hair's a mess too. Look like you ready fo' baid. Mastah Adam, Ah's s'prised you doan take a han' to Miss Dulcie. She doan look—"

"That will do, Claudine! We're in Nassau now, not at Mossrose. And I'm a married woman. If I displease my husband, he'll tell me so."

"Yes'm." Claudine turned away muttering to herself.

On their way downstairs Dulcie asked, "What do you suppose has gotten into Claudine?"

"Nobody, lately," he said.

"Adam, Glory was right. You're a low-minded man. How do you know that?"

"Guesswork. The dissatisfied look, the one you used to wear when you were still your Daddy's girl."

"What do I look like now?"

"The cat that licked the butter crock.'*

So they began a pattern for the months together in Nassau, Dulcie alone while Adam made his runs. Usually he went to Wilmington, sometimes to New Yorjc, though he hked that less and less. In spite of Rod's precautions he coul^ too easily be observed entering Oyster Bay. From the empty house on Centre Island anyone could watch his activities.

He remained in Nassau to take Dulcie to the Junkanoo Parade on Boxing Day. The celebration began about four in the morning, after an all-night party. Festively garbed men and women gyrated to the music of goombay drums, cowbells, and horns. Dulcie and Adam danced and sang with the others until the merrymaking palled. Then with Glory, Ben, and Beau they dined royally on hot sherry-laced conch chowder, baked crabs from Andros Island, and guava duff.

"We'll have a happy year, Adam," Dulcie assured him. "If you take part in the junkanoo, you chase away the evil spirits and invoke the good ones."

"It's true," Glory said. "I went last year, and look how well I turned out."

"We can see that. Glory," said Beau, leering down her generous cleavage. "But I think you got your start a little before last year."

She giggled. "I think you did too, Beau."

Ben looked sharply at them. "I think it's superstitious nonsense."

"Well, well, there's always one sourpuss in every crowd. We certainly know who ours is!" Glory said.

Ben glared at her, then attacked his crab.

As the weeks passed, Dulcie became more irritated by Claudine. When Adam was gone and the exquisite tension that existed between them had gone with him, Claudine was easier to manage. She was not so outspokenly critical. But when Adam was around, Claudine was always helping, always underfoot. Adam couldn't do anything wrong. And Dulcie couldn't do anything right.

Yet, watching, she could see nothing in Adam's manner toward Claudine that would encourage her behavior. He didn't even go around naked anymore unless their bedroom door was locked.

She'd give Claudine every second night off. Knowing

Claudine, she'd find another 'Polio and soon forget her attachment to Adam.

Before they knew it, April had come. Beau was going home to his sister's wedding. He would stay in New Orleans a month if the blockade permitted, visiting friends he might not see again until the end of the war.

Beau left an hour ahead of Adam, who had gotten a last-minute consignment of saltpeter. Though there were sources in the Confederate states, the quality the blockade runners brought in was thought purer for manufacturing gunpowder. As with everything in short supply, those who wanted it would pay handsomely.

Glory chirruped, "Don't you drag yourself back here all overworked and unable to enjoy yourself with me.'*

Beau laughed. "Just you keep the sheets good and hot for when I get back." He shook Adam's hand. "See you next month, Adam. So long, Dulcie."

Dulcie kissed Beau fondly, feeling his cheek smooth against her lips and smeUing his lime tonic. He had grown dearer to her these past months, and there was a vulnerability about him.

Beau clapped his hand on Ben's shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Ben." His eyes twinkled. "And don't forget she's mine when I get back."

Glory threw her arms around him and crushed him to her. "Honey, you take good care of yourself. Will you, now?"

"You bet. Glory chil'." Beau strode up the gangplank. At the top he turned, smiling, and waved. He grinned, noticing Glory's hand already tucked under Ben's arm. Then slowly the Ullah steamed out to sea.

Adam said, "I'd better get on board. Behave yourself, Glory."

"I will—^unless I get a better offer."

Ad^m kissed Dulcie briefly. They had said their goodbyes the night before, making love with leisure and fervency.

Dulcie whispered, "Good-bye, love." In her eyes was the message come back safe.

In the carriage going to the hotel Glory wept.

"I always feel that way, Glory."

"Isn't it silly of me? I've fallen in love before—every night, sometimes—but he's the first man I ever still loved after he was gone."

Dulcie giggled. "That's what you said when Ben left last time."

"But Ben won't ever need me—and Beau might."

Chapter Twenty

The Ullah, loaded with Enfield rifles, Belgian muskets, percussion caps, bolts of serge, lead, tin plate, and steel, steamed uneventfully into the Gulf of Mexico. Beau chided himself for hunting trouble where none was. It was a beautiful dark April night, and for once he was having an easy run. He should be grateful, but it had been too easy.

He concentrated on the things he knew to be right and good. He'd never known Ad^im more contented or pleased with himself than he was standing on the Nassau pier with Dulcie. That was good, and Beau was happy for them.

Then there was Barbara. He knew she loved Morgan. Longworth III with all her heart Before the month ended, Barbara would wear the same glow that now bathed Adam and Dulcie.

But once more his thoughts took on an edge of doubt He hadn't heard from Barbara since last October. It was unlike her. Both his mother and Barbara were regular correspondents, though the mails were anything but reliable.

Barbara's last letter told him that Morgan was stationed with the Beaufort Artillery under the command of Captain Stephen, manning the fort at Bay Point that guarded Port Royal and Hilton Head Island. As Beau well knew. Port Royal had fallen to the Yankees last November. Where Morgan was now, he had no idea.

The more he forced his mind over Barbara's letter, the more uneasy he became. Ceaselessly, he scanned the Gulf horizon. His keen ears, accustomed to listening for the slightest sound, could hear the telltale noises of other ships. But he saw nothing but the inky black night No flare went up. No signal split the night sky. Nothing indicated the Ullah would be hampered in entering the Mississippi.