Island of the Red Mangroves Read online

  "My goodness, Missis Dede, what are you doing … why are you here? You should've been in the house all this time. Your mommy will scold you! And riding out alone with a gentleman! Is that how a lady behaves? Admit it, you smuggled the horse out of the barn on your own – I wouldn't have let you ride off without accompaniment …"

  Deirdre laughed. "I would have outrun the servant anyway!" she responded.

  Kwadwo looked up to the heavens. "And you probably also outran Mr. Keensley just now, haven't you? When I look at your hair …"

  Deirdre had pinned up her curls and tucked them under her hat before her ride, but they’d come loose during their race. Deirdre was about to respond argumentatively, but then Quentin spurred his horse between the servant and her mare. The young man flew into a rage. The lack of respectful greeting had already angered him – and now the slave also proved amazingly perceptive with regard to his defeat in the race.

  "Is this how you speak to your mistress, nigger?" he snapped at Kwadwo. "Did I hear an unfitting form of address just there?"

  The young man's riding crop cut through the air – but the old stableman caught the blow in his large, calloused hand.

  "Not so, young sir!" he said quietly. "I am no slave, I am a free man. And how I speak, I am only accountable to the backra and no one …"

  Kwadwo broke off. Free or not, it wasn't for him to rebuke the young man. Even though the young man had deserved the reprimand – it was not proper for a gentleman to lure a girl out for a ride without a chaperone. Deirdre was sometimes a bit reckless, but Quentin Keensley should not have exploited it.

  Quentin let his eyes shift angrily and helplessly back and forth between the old black man and the distressed Deirdre.

  "What is he talking about?" he turned to the young woman, confused. "That sounds like … like proper English."

  Most of the slaves taken from Africa only spoke broken English to their masters or at least acted as if they didn't know how to express themselves fluently. However, Kwadwo and the other slaves on Cascarilla Gardens refrained from doing the latter and Nora Fortnam urged the young blacks to speak in full sentences. Kwadwo, who had come to Jamaica as a young man, had acquired the language quickly. Nonetheless, his former masters were never to find out about it and, even today, he spoke Pidgin when guests came. He had just forgotten in front of Quentin.

  "Kwadwo has been here for fifty years," Deirdre responded and looked at the gentleman angrily. Only then did Quentin notice her outrage. "It is completely normal that he speaks English. But you should be ashamed of yourself, hitting old men! That is … young men also should not be beaten … well, slaves in general. At that, Kwadwo isn't even a slave. My father gave him his freedom long ago. Kwadwo is our Busha. And he is part of the family!" She turned a bit red. "So, he is something of a grandfather to me …" Deirdre smiled to the old Obeah man conspiratorially.

  Kwadwo's face was beaming. "Now, now, Missis, I'm probably too black for that …" he protested good-naturedly, knowing full well that Deirdre's paternal grandparents were no less dark-skinned that he was.

  But Deirdre took strongly after her mother and the Fortnams made no point of hanging her descent from the rooftops. She was the child of Nora and Doug – if something else were being whispered, it was always in secret. Those who didn't already know the story at that point would often doubt the truth behind such talk.

  "You are quite right, Kwadwo!" Deirdre laughed. "Have you hurt yourself?"

  She pointed to his hand and slid out of the saddle. Quentin's offer to assist her in doing so was deliberately ignored.

  The stable master shook his head, causing the longer curls of his wig to flit about atop his head.

  "No, Missis. I have calloused hands … just like you will soon, if you don't finally start wearing gloves when riding …"

  Kwadwo probably would have started with his usual tirade again now, were the Warrington's carriage not coming up the driveway. Kwadwo quickly called a couple of stable boys to take Alegria and Keensley's brown horse into the stables while he took care of the guests himself.

  "Mrs. Warrington, Backra Lord Warrington!" Kwadwo performed his famous bow in full. "Welcome to Cascarilla Gardens! You had good trip? Not too hot without roof on carriage? Jimmy, good-for-nothing, don't ever think that you will spoil Missis complexion with sun …"

  Deirdre smiled when she saw Quentin watching irritably. Kwadwo was once again playing his role brilliantly, but Quentin did not seem to see the humor in it. In general, this Quentin Keensley … Deirdre shook her head at her own stupidity. How could she have bothered with him! She didn't even glance at him again as he escorted her to the main house. She had so hoped for an open-minded, intelligent companion when he told her of his travels through Europe. But now he proved to be nothing but a pompous little sugar baron: Always quick with the whip in hand when a slave couldn't fight back. Always ready to take all people with black skin for stupid.

  And he was not even a decent rider!

  CHAPTER 2

  Nora Fortnam stood ready to greet the guests in front of the reception rooms and looked equally as annoyed as she did relieved when Deirdre finally slipped in. Her daughter also looked appropriately guilty. Without Keensley's accompaniment, she probably would have chosen the kitchen entrance to quickly enter the house unseen, but that clearly couldn't happen with the gentleman at her side – fortunately, her wild daughter stuck to the basic rules of etiquette. Even though the young man did not seem very presentable at the moment. Nora noted how the house servant at the door looked at Quentin's suit with disdain. Keensley's already festive clothing had suffered a bit on the excursion with Deirdre. His pale blue jacket and matching breeches had a light reddish tinge from the dust on the trails. On top of that, he was missing his tricorn, a necessary piece in accordance with the current fashion. To appear at a formal social event without his hat under his arm was not gentlemanly and Keensley looked embarrassed. They managed to look past his not so neatly powdered hair in house Fortnam, considering that the master of the house used to disdain the fashion himself.

  "Dede, what took you so long?" Nora said to her daughter. "You should already be in full array and standing beside me, ready to greet the guests! After all, it's your day! And I'd do better not to ask where you were and with whom!" Deirdre's riding dress and her loose hair made the question largely unnecessary.

  Nora would have almost felt pity for her daughter's companion, were she not so upset about her lateness. He had probably been hoping to start a courtship with Deirdre, but Nora needn't worry about that. Her daughter had turned down every gentleman so far. She was far more interested in racing on horseback than exchanging forbidden affections.

  "And you, Mr. Keensley, you'd better freshen up a bit, too!"

  Nora looked around for a house servant who could take care of helping Quentin and sent two little black boys out to look for the guest's tricorn hat. Deirdre quickly disclosed the route along which she had led Keensley. She seemed amused by the whole matter and was clearly having a grand old time.

  Nora sighed. She had also been wild in her younger years and still loved racing on her horse to this day. Only, she had paid more attention to formalities at Deirdre's age – or at least she acted as such … the memory of her own escapades nearly made her smile, but she held back now. Deirdre was already hopelessly spoilt and now was not the time to show understanding.

  "Now hurry up, Deirdre, you're needed here!" she then told her daughter sternly. "We'll talk about your behavior later … it is outrageous to simply slip away with Mr. Keensley as you have done!"

  Deirdre smiled apologetically. "Oh, don't be angry, Mommy!" she plead and kissed her mother on the cheek – and then backed away in disgust to wipe the powder from her lips. "I'll just arrive later. When everyone is already here, I'll come … hmm … glide down the stairs and everyone will look up at me admiringly."

  She straightened up and moved with exaggerated, dance-like steps, as if she were already wearing high heels an
d a corset.

  Nora tried to keep a straight face, but didn't entirely succeed. "Now glide up to your room!" she said warmly. "The girls are already waiting to dress you. Tell them to hurry. We didn't organize this celebration for fun, Deirdre. We're introducing you to society and it would be most desirable if you could behave accordingly …"

  Nora herself had already long been dressed for the occasion – and was an impressive sight. Although she was already over forty and had given birth to three children, she was still slim. On this day, she was laced up tighter than usual. She hated wearing corsets and usually went about her daily work without one. Nora was knowledgeable on healing and often took the place of a doctor for the blacks and whites on their own and even the neighboring plantations. For that, she preferred wearing lightweight, comfortable, cotton clothes. For Deirdre's birthday party, she was wearing an elegant dark-green, silk robe with gold trim, and had even powdered her artfully pinned up hair and worn makeup according to current standards. She hoped that her husband would also be willing to make concessions for the current fashion, but had no high expectations. The plantation owner and successful lawyer found it quite amusing to shock his neighbors by breaking the conventions. Doug Fortnam preferred pants to knee breeches, only owned one wig for court appearances, and refused to powder his full head of blond hair white.

  "Experience shows," he used to lecture, "that people's hair turns gray in the long run, if you live long enough. I intend to wait for that. And even the deathly pallor will eventually set in on its own. I do not intend to start early by painting my face white."

  Nora was of the same opinion entirely, but on this day it was just more important to make a good impression than to take a stand for their convictions regarding fashion. This party was important for Deirdre – even if the girl herself couldn't see it and Doug only had to a limited extent. But Nora had been keeping a sharp eye out and hadn't failed to notice that Deirdre was in danger of becoming isolated from Jamaica's better society. Over the course of the past year, there had been many balls and receptions in Kingston and the surrounding plantations in celebration of young girls’ coming out in society. This custom had its roots in England, where the young ladies of nobility were traditionally presented to the Queen in their eighteenth year. At that age, they were considered ready for marriage and could be courted by suitable young gentlemen. In the colonies, it had been modified for their own, specific circumstances – whoever had a daughter of appropriate age would give a ball, inviting an extensive list of acquaintances along with their sons and daughters. This was how the young people – who otherwise lived on distant plantations – met and got to know each other. Of course, the purpose of the whole thing was marriage.

  Nora had also been expecting invitations for her daughter over the past year, but they didn't actually materialize. The representatives of Kingston's high society certainly did not say it to the Fortnams and would have absolutely denied any accusations of excluding Deirdre because of her dubious origins. With invitations, people already even used to "forget" her from time to time as a child and with the debutant balls it became obvious. Deirdre Fortnam was unwelcome.

  Nora had considered it for some time and then decided to take action. Deirdre's eighteenth birthday was to be the occasion for one of the most glamorous balls that had ever taken place in Kingston and Spanish Town. And no one that came to Cascarilla Gardens that evening would be able to keep from including Deirdre on their invitation lists thereafter.

  Doug, who was still willing to believe it was an accident, pointed out that people could simply avoid their reception if they wanted to continue ignoring Deirdre. But Nora didn't harbor such fears. Cascarilla Gardens was too big and too highly-esteemed and Doug was too well known and sought-after as a lawyer and expert on international trade law for anyone to risk an affront there. The invited guests would come and then hopefully be convinced of what a beautiful and well-bred young woman Deirdre Fortnam really was! If the lady deigned to show it … and if she no longer persisted with such escapades as unaccompanied rides with the neighbor boys.

  Deirdre hastened to the first floor of the house and was happy not to have crossed paths with anyone in the ballroom. The guestrooms had long been occupied and the first visitors from Kingston and the Blue Mountains had already arrived in the morning. The Fortnams took it as a matter of course – people lived too far apart for short visits and if the household was well organized, the full house hardly meant any more work for the hosts. There was no lack of personnel at any of the plantations – and the household staff at Cascarilla Gardens was particularly well trained. The younger ones were born on the plantation and were taken under the strict custody of the cook Adwea, whom everyone lovingly called Mama Adwe. Along with Nora, a merchant's daughter and well trained in all social affairs, and the first housemaid, Carrie, Adwea trained outstanding kitchen maids, lady's maids, and house servants to be at the disposal of the family and their guests.

  Three black girls had been waiting for Deirdre and were looking at her excitedly.

  "Missis, hurry now!"

  Amali, the oldest of the girls, couldn't help Deirdre out of her riding dress fast enough. Genet, the second, was holding a bowl of warm water and a sponge ready, so that Deirdre could freshen up. To her pleasure, Deirdre noticed that the water smelled of roses and lavender – the girls must have put a few drips of flower essences into it. She washed up quickly while Amali and Genet already had her silk underclothes, stockings, and the unavoidable corset ready.

  Most of the ladies of their society wouldn't have sponged themselves off. Nearly all of them handed their personal hygiene over entirely to their black servants. However, Nora always made sure that Deirdre was independent. She found it embarrassing to reveal the most intimate parts of her body to her servants and had passed this shame on to her daughter. Deirdre didn't have any body servants – although she sometimes did quite enjoy being treated like a princess.

  Kinah, the third girl, was skilled at hairdressing. She insisted upon taking down Deirdre's hair and brushing it out before she got dressed.

  "It's very dirty, Missis, and if the red sand gets on the white dress …"

  Deirdre giggled at the thought of Quentin Keensley's dusty party array and let the girls in on the story of his defeat in the race. The three happily laughed together. Amali in particular was more of a friend to Deirdre than a house servant.

  "But if you treat the young gentlemen this way," the girl now pointed out, "You'll never find a husband, Missis! You read it to us yourself: A girl should be humble, gentle, and kind. There's nothing about horse races in your book!"

  Deirdre had several books from England that explained how the young ladies of high society were to behave. Nora had dutifully ordered this literature – driven by her bad conscience. She knew well that she had let her daughter and also her younger sons grow up far too freely. The Fortnam children played with the slave children in the kitchen, in the garden and even in the slave quarters. They could swim and ride, rove about the beach, in the woods and in the sugar fields. Deirdre only even began to wear shoes with some regularity at the age of fifteen.

  Her tutor, the gentle Scot, Ian McCloud, wasn't exactly strict with her either. In terms of assertiveness, he had already failed when Doug had originally hired him as an overseer for his slaves. Now that was actually good enough by the Fortnams' standards. In reality, the blacks quite excellently organized themselves under Kwadwo's leadership, but at some point Doug had to give in to pressure from the community, feeling that slave quarters without an overseer were a threat to public order. So, he hired McCloud at Cascarilla Gardens. He spent his first years on the plantation mostly reading or daydreaming under a palm tree – while his wife Priscilla, a self-proclaimed medium, summoned ghosts. It was only with the Fortnam children that Mister Ian, as the blacks called him, had found his true calling. He first taught Deirdre and then also provided her younger brothers with a comprehensive education. Doug hadn't sent any of his children to
school in England, since he had traumatic memories of his own time in boarding school. If Thomas and Robert wanted to study at some point in the future, they were still able to travel to the motherland.

  "There was something about riding in the books," Deirdre then explained, as Kinah fought with her hair. "But only nonsense! The gentleman must make sure that his lady is only given the gentlest, slowest horse … but in England it seems that they only ride for pleasure and not to go anywhere!"

  Nora had told Deirdre about her rides in St. James Park and hunts on horseback in Scotland. The girl certainly would have found a hunt on horseback an exciting pastime. However, Nora forbade her daughter from participating in similar such events here in Jamaica. In Kingston, they didn't hunt wild animals, but chased young black boys who made a game out of running away from the riders. The children might have found that fun, but Nora considered it inhumane. And it made Doug think of the real slave hunts in which his father had always happily participated – they would chase after runaway blacks with dogs and horses and then punish them cruelly for the escape attempt. The playful hunts had also served as a means of training the animals.

  "In any case, I won't marry a man for whom I have to act like a shy, silly girl who can't even ride!" Deirdre continued. "My husband will have to take me as I am."

  Amali laughed uncomfortably. She knew a bit about Deirdre's story – the story of Nora Fortnam's kidnapping and her relationship to Deirdre's biological father, Akwasi, was known in much greater detail in the slave quarters than in the fine society of Kingston. Deirdre would be lucky if she could even choose from the young men among the white backras. She could just as well end up as a servant in the slave quarters. In the eyes of the law, the daughter of an escaped slave was considered black – up until a few years prior, plantation owners weren't even permitted to issue letters of manumission to their slaves. It had since changed. Kwadwo and Adwea were free – and somewhere in her foster father's chests, there was also a document signed by the governor designating Deirdre as a free black. It gave Deirdre security – but it didn't necessarily make her any more appealing as a marriage candidate for young men like Quentin Keensley.