The Price of Freedom (12 page)

He glanced at his aunt to see her
tighten her lips before she made excuses and ushered the girls to greet some
friends, leaving Richard and Thomas alone.

"Deborah seems to have caught
the eye of every male here," Richard observed. Mine included he thought
silently.

"Yes. She certainly looks
beautiful tonight," Thomas agreed nodding.

"You may have some offers for
her after this," Richard said, feeling him out.

"It's well known that she's
not for sale."

"At any
price?"

"I'm in no desperate need of
money.
Why the interest?"

Richard sighed deeply, his eyes
seeking out Deborah across the room. "She stirs me like no other," he
confessed quietly.

Thomas eyed him thoughtfully and
clapped him on the shoulder. "I understand completely. If you can convince
her to come to your bed, I'll not intervene."

"You said that I only have to
tell them to come," Richard reminded him.

"Not Deborah. She has been
through enough. I'll not have her subjected to more. Come, let us talk with our
guests," his uncle said, gesturing him towards a group of planters.

Richard would have liked to ask
more, but had to be contented with the fact that his uncle had at least given
him permission to pursue Deborah. He smiled even as his body tingled with
anticipation.

Richard and his uncle joined a
group of planters who were drinking glasses of Thomas's fine French brandy and
discussing the challenges that Antigua was facing with getting their sugar to
England.

"I've heard that late last
year they could not get their sugar shipped to England because of the war and
they had to wait months before England was able to send any help."

“Yes. That was good news for us
since we were able to get our sugar to market first," another planter
added.

"Now I see why you invested
in a ship, Thomas," praised a man whose flushed face suggested that he had
already had a lot to drink. "No one will be able to stop you from getting
your sugar to the motherland."

"I don't intend to be held to
ransom by anyone," Thomas agreed. 

"So what brings you to
Barbados?" One of the planters asked Richard, changing the topic.

"I'm here to observe how you
manage your African slaves as I plan to buy some when I go back and use them to
cultivate rice."

"Barbados wouldn't be so
successful without their labor. However they now outnumber us badly. We had a
close call in '92 when they planned a rebellion."

"So I heard," Richard
said.

"We've had to curtail a lot
of their movement and we don’t allow them to meet together anymore. Because of
their numbers, we have to keep them in line through fear and punishment. 
Thankfully our slave code gives us legal right to do so without reprisal."

"The slave code has made us
like gods; we have the power of life and death in our hands.” Another planter
declared.

"They’ve just adopted a new
one in Carolina based on yours."

"Good move that.
Helps to keep them under control."

"Speaking of under control,
when is William coming back?" This was from John Bowyer, the father of
William’s friend Henry. "Henry's been like a fish out of water without him
here. Not that it's been a bad thing because I've actually been able to get
some work out of him." Thomas laughed.

"That's what I'm hoping for
when William gets back. It probably won't be before late in the year or next
year though. I trust that England will make him into a better man."

"I spent two years there
myself and I think it made a better man out of me.
And if not
better then certainly stronger.
When you’re born in the colonies, you’re
often looked down upon so you have to be strong enough to overcome that and get
on with whatever you’re there for,” Richard told them.

"You certainly turned out
well, my boy," Thomas praised him. If William turned out half as well, he
would be happy.

"Thank you
uncle."

"Speaking of turning out
well, Thomas, that girl of yours has turned out very well. I have not seen her
since William left," John remarked, his eyes boldly roving over Deborah as
she made her way towards them with a tray.

"Pickled
oysters."
She announced, proffering the tray.

"I may need them, especially
if you're offering yourself to go with them," John joked. Deborah was
revolted and would have liked nothing more than to throw the oysters in his
sun-wrinkled face. The man was as old as Master Thomas and just as disgusting
as his son.

"You randy old goat,"
another planter said. "Don't you have enough girls to keep you busy on
your own plantation?" He helped himself to an oyster.

“None as lovely as this one,"
he replied taking one himself with his eyes still on Deborah. "Have you
changed your mind about selling yet, Thomas?"

Richard was silently disgusted
with the old lecher but he could fully understand his interest in the ravishing
slave girl. He looked at Deborah who wore a blank expression on her face as the
men talked about her as if she was not there, but the now-familiar flaring of
her nostrils and the color on her cheeks betrayed her anger.

“I've already expressed my
interest," Richard interjected, watching her closely, "but my uncle
couldn't be persuaded." The men laughed in sympathy.

Deborah's eyes flew up and
collided with his and he was pleased to see hers widen in shock at his bold
confession. The look was quickly replaced by one of intense dislike. Rather
than put him off though, it served to challenge him. He allowed his gaze to
roam the length of her and his eyes became more intense. She gave him a cold
glare before she lowered her eyes.

“OK, Deborah," said Thomas
indicating that she could leave.

Deborah was relieved to move away
from the group of lecherous men. What did the nephew mean by that? Had he
really offered to buy her from the master? He was just as bad as the rest of
them. After discussing Shakespeare with her and asking her to read to him, he
still thought her nothing more than a chattel that he could buy for his use?
Why had she believed he was any different?

She had not thought he was like
William, but she now couldn't be certain. One thing she was certain about was
that she didn't like what she had seen in his eyes when he had looked at her.
It had been unconcealed desire.

"Elizabeth,
what a lovely party.
And how handsome your nephew is!" exclaimed
her friend Dora Pierce. "It must be nice having him here now that William
is away," she added.

“Yes indeed."

"You should really find him a
nice girl to marry and keep him in Barbados. I wouldn't mind him for my own Mary-Ann,"
admitted her friend, Hazel Newton.

“I know what you mean. We really
need more of our kind on the island especially since hardly any indentured
servants are coming here now," agreed Dora.

"That thought did cross my
mind, but unfortunately he's already betrothed to a girl in Carolina."
They all sighed with disappointment and then laughed at themselves.

"He's been such a help to
Thomas and he says he's looking forward to helping out during the
harvest."

"There speaks someone who
knows nothing of the horrors of harvesting cane. I practically lose all my
house girls to the work," complained Hazel.

"Speaking of house girls, I
must say that you dress yours very well Elizabeth. The one in the green, in
particular, looks as well turned out as many of the ladies here tonight."

"Thank you Dora."
Elizabeth pasted a polite smile on her face which ably covered up the anger
seething inside her as she looked at Deborah again.

Not only had Deborah deliberately
disobeyed her by wearing something of her own choosing, but she drew the eyes
of every man in the room, Richard's included! She wondered where she had got
the dress from. No doubt Thomas! It wasn't surprising that she thought herself
above the others. Well it was high time she reminded the girl that she was nothing
more than a slave in her house and under her control. She now had a good reason
and she would do it at the earliest opportunity!

The Barbadian planters, Richard
noticed, indulged in drink like no other people he had encountered and each
group he joined insisted that he have a drink with them. He didn’t resist,
hoping that the alcohol would dull the desire that rose in him each time his
eyes fell on Deborah as she served. The fact that she appeared oblivious to his
presence, while he could not keep his eyes off her, was a blow to his pride and
he was determined to get a response from her one way or the other.

The opportunity arose when he saw
her crossing the room with an empty tray to go to the kitchen.  Quickly
begging the excuse of a group of young ladies that his cousins had insisted he
meet, he exited through the nearest doorway and reached the hallway ahead of
her and was able to block her path.

She came to an abrupt halt when
she saw him, her startled eyes meeting his.  She made to move around him
and he moved as well, cutting off her exit.

“You look beautiful tonight,
Deborah,” he praised quietly.

“Thank you,” she murmured lowering
her gaze, even while she kept the tray between them.

He leaned closer and said, “Come
to my room after the party.” The smell of brandy was strong on his breath.
Before she could move back he bent his head and branded her with a kiss on the
side of her neck.

A shiver tickled her back and she
pulled away shocked; not sure if it was because of his bold action or her
response to it.  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Her voice was unsteady.

“What do you mean, that’s not
possible?  You will do as I say.” His pride was stung and he forgot what
his uncle had warned him only hours before.

In a panic Deborah scrambled for a
response and finally said, “I am indisposed, Master Richard.”

The alcohol he had drunk made him
slow to process the information and it seemed to take an age before he
understood her meaning. His mouth twisted in displeasure at the news and he
uttered a curse before turning away to stride down the hall.

Deborah resumed her way to the
kitchen, with a slight smile of victory on her face.  She couldn’t use
that excuse forever so she would have to get her mother to speak to the master
soon.  He obviously had not told the nephew that she was not for bedding.

Dawn was painting the sky in pale
pinks when the last carriage departed from The Acreage. While the family
wearily climbed the stairs to their rooms, the slaves were faced with the task
of restoring the house to order before the family woke up later in the day.
Thankfully it was Sunday so after they had cleaned up they could take their own
rest.

If the success of the party was to
be judged by the amount of alcohol consumed, then the slaves who worked serving
the drinks could attest that it was a very successful party. They packed about
a hundred empty wine and brandy bottles into crates before helping Jethro to
put the furniture back in place in the sitting room.  Deborah and the
other women walked about picking up glasses and plates to take into the yard
just outside the kitchen, where several tubs had been set up to wash and rinse
them.

The sun was half way up the sky
when they finally headed to their huts for much coveted sleep.  Deborah
was so exhausted that she barely managed to take off her dress before falling
onto her pallet to sleep.

She awoke several hours later,
disoriented to find herself in bed in broad daylight. Wincing as she sat up,
she heard her mother bustling about in the front room.

“Ma, what time is it?”
she
called to Sarah.

“It looks to be around four or so,”
Sarah replied poking her head through the door. 
“You
hungry?
I made some pone.”

“Yes, but I want to wash my hair
before it gets any later.  I’ll eat something when I come back.”

Deborah washed inside the hut then
carried a bucket outside and filled it with water so that she could wash her
long hair. The soap that she had made, scented with lemon balm, gave her hair a
fresh lemony scent. Drying it as much as she could with a small towel she
headed out to her favorite spot leaving it loose for the wind to finish the
job.

She had not had the opportunity to
get a new book from the master’s office as they had been busy preparing for the
party so she had nothing to read but she would just enjoy the view and relax
for a few minutes. As she made her way around the back of the house towards her
oasis, an unaccustomed feeling of well being came over her.

Richard saw Deborah heading for her
favorite spot from his bedroom window.  He had woken up an hour or so
earlier with a headache induced by the vast quantities of brandy he had
consumed the night before; another reason why he avoided drinking too much
spirits.

He recalled his encounter with
Deborah in the hallway and now cringed at his crassness.  He couldn’t
believe he had ordered her to come to his room. It was just as well that she
had been indisposed, or so she claimed. He wouldn’t put it past her to lie
about that. He had never needed to force a woman into his bed and he was not
about to start now. She might be a slave, but he had enough pride to want her
to be willing to come to him and he vowed that when she came to him, she would
indeed be willing.

The desire to follow her was strong
and he battled with himself for a few minutes before he gave up the fight and
slipped out of his room, hoping that he would meet none of the family. From the
amount of spirits his uncle had consumed, he was sure that he would be asleep
until nightfall and he hoped that the ladies were still spent.  Luck was
with him and he made his way out of the house unseen and down to the grove of
trees where he knew he would find Deborah.

Deborah saw him coming from the
distance and her heart gave a little lurch. She preferred to call it fear but
if she was truly honest with herself, she knew it was really
anticipation.  She was assured that her lie at the party would give her
safety from any inappropriate advances, at least for now, so she wasn’t really
afraid of him in that way.

This time she stood up as he came
closer so that he would not tower over her as he did before, although she still
had to look a way up to see his face.  He stopped fairly close to her and
as her eyes stared at the top button of his shirt, she couldn’t help but notice
the breadth of his shoulders under the shirt he wore this evening.

“You needn’t have stood.”

“I’m supposed to,” she replied.

“Do you always do what you’re
supposed to?”  She kept quiet knowing that wearing the dress to the party
provided her answer to the question.

“I came to apologize for my
behavior last night which I attribute to the vast quantities of alcohol I
consumed,” he offered rather than pursuing the answer to his question.

“Since when does a master
apologize to a slave?” asked Deborah rhetorically.

“I am not your master,” he replied
quietly, “but I would like to be,” he added in a husky voice.

“I am not for sale!” she declared.

“Don’t be too sure about that,” he
retorted confidently.  Deborah hesitated, now unsure of her bold
statement.  Would the master really sell her to the nephew? Had they come
to some sort of agreement that she had not been told about yet? How she hated
the fact that she could be bought and sold.

“Would it be so bad to be owned by
me, Deborah? I would be good to you,” he promised in a low voice, closing the
distance between them to run the back of his fingers down her neck. Her skin
felt like silk to his touch and an image of him kissing her neck came back to
him. Had he done that last night or had he imagined it? He slid his fingers
into her hair to see if it felt as silky and pulled her gently towards him.

Deborah jerked her head back as
his fingers on her neck and in her hair stirred unfamiliar feelings in her
body.

“You don’t want to be owned by me,
but I think you already own me,” he continued musingly as she said nothing.
 Her eyes met his questioningly. “I saw you pass my window and said that I
would not follow you, yet here I am.  Do you not own me?”

Deborah dismissed his
confession.  “That is hardly the same thing. Anyway, it is not me that
owns you.  It is your lust.  But I’m sure that Hattie will be only
too willing to take care of that.”

“And you’re not.”  It was a
statement.

“No. I am not.”

“One day you will change your
mind.”

“Never!”
Deborah assured him.

“Never say
never,”
he said arrogantly, walking away. He would remind her about
those words when she came to his bed. 

Deborah seethed at his retreating
back.  She would never desire the infuriating, arrogant nephew and she
couldn’t wait until he left Barbados. 

Monday morning dawned clear and
bright.  It was a beautiful day in the island.  The kitchen was abuzz
with talk about the party and how much food and drink had been consumed. 
Cassie had served breakfast to the men and reported that the master was going
to Jamestown later in the morning to do some business but had asked Master
Richard to check on the slaves working near the house since the overseers would
be involved with harvesting the first set of canes.

“He does more than Master William
ever did ‘bout here. The master
goin
’ be sorry when
he gone back to Carolina,” Sarah said. 

I will not, thought Deborah,
remembering his boast to her as he walked away from her the day before.

“Me too,” piped up Hattie. “He is
a real good man.  I never had any like him before,” she confessed with a
satisfied smile.

Deborah remembered the tingle that
ran through her body when he sank his fingers in her hair and for a brief
moment wondered what it would be like to find out what Hattie was talking
about. Her face burned as she caught her wayward thoughts and told herself that
Hattie was welcome to him because she certainly wasn’t interested and she
didn’t care how good he was.