17. Andrews

     “I think we’re in for a rather serious storm today,” Ian observed as we stepped off the boat onto Graham Andrews’ dock. “I hope it will hold off until we’re safely returned to town.” He stroked his jaw, looking around in vague suspicion. Like Lady Catherine, Ian had told me that things would be different out here from what I was used to in town.

    The estate was stunning. I took in the long strip of beach, wide stone patio - and the massive two story house just beyond, all displayed against a cedar forest backdrop. The house itself was white and stucco, with wood accents, and boasted a number of large glass windows unlike any I’d seen in town. It was easy to see why everyone spoke so highly of Andrews’ holdings.
    I smoothed my embroidered overskirt. Today, Lady Isabelle had an intricate beribboned hairdo and a ridiculously ornate silk outfit that required a corset. I was even wearing a frilly hat. Anne and I had been here for over a month now, and it was hard to believe but I really felt like I was settling into the swing of things.
     Our party  - Ian, myself, Josefa-Maria, and Davies - was met by Graham Andrews. By his side was a tall, handsome young man, his spitting image, but with dark skin and features where Andrews was light. His mother was definitely Black, I thought, taking him in; we weren’t far off in coloring.
     Tall, handsome boy, I realized, adjusting his age as we grew closer. He was taller and bigger than me, but barely into puberty. Thirteen, maybe? 
     “Please let me introduce Magnus Augustus Andrews, my pride and joy and heir to everything you see.” Beaming with pride, the child bowed to us. 
     “You hardly needed to clarify that this beautiful child was your son,” I grinned at Andrews after we had all introduced ourselves. “He looks just like you.” 
     Magnus’ grin grew even wider and Andrews inclined his head to me in appreciation. “If you would follow me, a light midday repast is nearly ready.”  
     “Where’s Helene?” I asked. “I was looking forward to seeing her.”
     “She’s just finishing arrangements up at the house with Angelica. Magnus, why don’t you go and tell your mother we’re on our way up.”
     Interesting. I wondered who Magnus’ mother would turn out to be. 
     Helene was standing at the door when we arrived, looking regal in a richly embroidered linen jacket and skirt. 
     “Helene,” I smiled, and the woman greeted me warmly. 
     “It’s good to see you in person, my lady,” she said, taking me by the arm. We had exchanged a number of messages since our first meeting - I had a lot of questions about my upcoming wedding at The Hundred Acre Wood. 
     “I’m excited to finally see the place. Everyone keeps going on and on about the wondrousness of this estate,” I told her as she led us through. There was coffee waiting in the parlor. It was remarkably good coffee, stronger than what I had been drinking here. 
     “Where do you get your coffee from?” I asked Andrews. “This reminds me of the variety I’m used to at home. It isn’t...South American, is it? Or Hawaiian?”
     “I would have to ask the captain of the ship that brings it in. Do you take cream or sugar?” He gave me an enigmatic grin.
     “I take it black, thank you.” I smiled. “If it needs anything other than liquor, it’s not good coffee.”
     The repast laid out for luncheon looked delicious. There were sweet and savory crepes, ground oven roasted pork with a version of bbq sauce, rice, stewed beans, bread, fruit - and rum. In cocktails, no less.
There were seven of us around the table. In addition to Andrews, Yvonne, Davies, Ian, and myself, we were joined by Angelica and Helene.

     Andrews had introduced them. “Yvonne you know. She handles the business affairs of the estate,” then, “let me introduce you to Angelica, the founder of this feast. Angelica manages the house and will be your favorite person here if you choose to hold your wedding on my grounds,” and finally, “Helene, you know as well. Truly my right hand in the management of this entire estate.” He kissed her hand and held it a moment before releasing her. Interesting. Especially since I had observed that my friend Helene? Well, she was Magnus’ mother. 
    Curiouser and curiouser. Graham Andrews sat at the head of the table; to his right, Helene, and Angelica to his left, with Yvonne to the left of Angelica. The one empty chair at the table was the one opposite of our host. The lady of the house’s chair, traditionally. It was downright weird to me that Helene  - mother of the heir - wasn’t seated there, and I wondered why she wasn’t.
     Ian shot me several subtle looks regarding the irregularity of it all, but I simply smiled back, unbothered. “So, Mr. Andrews, I imagine you don’t have any issues with hiring or working with women?” I smirked at him, and he grinned back at me. 
     “As I’ve said, strong women are my very favorite.” He toasted to the four of us. Then, Andrews, Yvonne, and Helene began piling their plates, and exclaiming over the delicious spread. 
The food did look and smell wonderful, but Davies, Ian and myself were much more reserved in our manner. As was Angelica, I observed.
     “It’s truly welcome to have you all here to visit. We so seldom get anyone out here to dine,” Angelica said. She had a smooth, deep voice. “I do apologize for any lapses in decorum.” She cleared her throat; Andrews took his elbow off the table, while Helene put a napkin in her lap, rolling her eyes. Yvonne ignored her, intent on demolishing her plate. The woman was shockingly fond of food and drink for someone as slender as she was. 
     “Truly splendid,” Andrews added.  There was an awkward moment of silence as Yvonne, Helene, and Andrews attempted to eat in proper formal fashion, but it was clear that they were simply used to a different routine. Angelica flushed beneath her rich, dark skin, embarrassed.
     The four of them were really cute, actually. I smiled into my wine glass. “The pork is delicious,” I told Angelica. “Do you ever use honey, or ginger?”
     “When we can acquire it. I believe there is far more flavor in the world than what can be grown on this island. I have a large herb garden out behind the kitchens. Would you like to see it?” Angelica asked.  
     Would I? I nodded enthusiastically, beaming. “I would love to, thank you.” She smiled back at me. It seemed like I wasn’t the only one excited to talk to someone else about the joy of combining the culinary and botanical arts. “I’ve just started a garden at my inn. The Phoenix, I’m renaming it, by the way,” I addressed the table at large.
     “The Phoenix?” Davies repeated.
     “Yes. I’m going to have a sign done and everything.” Beside me, Ian gave me a fond look before turning back to his plate. 
     “The horses need fresh hay. They are--” Helene turned to Andrews and began.
     Horses? I perked up.
     “No business talk at the table, you know this.” Angelica scolded under her breath, then tried to soften the rebuke with a smile to us guests.
     “What kinds of horses do you have here?” I asked Helene. Ian shot me a fond look. “And how many?”
     “Oh, that reminds me about the parcel, it includes horses and--”
     “No business talk at the table.” Angelica interrupted Yvonne in exasperation. “Save it for cigars out on the patio. We have guests.” Angelica smiled at us politely. She seemed nice but really, really, tightly wound; she was so anxious that she was literally cutting Andrews’ meat for him.  
     The entire scene was...odd. Just as Ian had warned me it would be. People don’t like to visit Mr. Andrews’ estate. We’ll be eating with his servants, for one.
    That didn’t bother me. But what did feel strange was my inability to figure out the dynamic at play here. I was good at reading body language - and, luckily there didn’t seem to be many differences between the locals and what I was used to. There was a level of intimacy between the four of them that went beyond teammates and work partners. If he was sleeping with all of them - or if they were in a quad - it made sense that Helene wasn’t seated in a special position.

     Hmmm. Helene had mentioned how isolated they were here...Graham Andrews was charismatic and quite attractive, and each of the three women were attractive and appealing in their own way. I could easily imagine how one thing could lead to another.
     It’s a cold night. Maybe the fires in the bedrooms have gone out. Oh, Mr. Andrews, it’s so cold in my room, can’t I sleep in here with you? Ooh, me too, Mr. Andrews, surely we can all stay warm in your big bed if we all fit in closely. As long as you don’t mind that I sleep in the nude. Graham Andrews threw back the covers, revealing his muscular form. Oh, Mr. Andrews, you’re so big and strong! Cue music.
     ...Okay, yes, I definitely needed to get laid, but still! I could totally see it. Was Graham Andrews in a quad? Maybe the ladies enjoyed themselves without him as well... 
     I sat back and sipped on my drink. The entire table looked like a set of models, actually, I realized as I looked around. I settled on Ian and Davies, elegantly drinking whiskey like they were in a commercial aimed at people with more money than sense.
     I giggled at the tableau before I could stop myself. “Excuse me.” I pressed a napkin to my mouth and Ian leaned over to check in on me with an amused smile, his eyebrow raised. “Just a silly thought,” I said quietly, gathering myself.
     Angelica addressed us as a couple. “You must be very excited about your wedding.  Allow me to tell you about the estate--”
     “I thought there was no business talk at the table?” Yvonne interrupted, annoyed.
     “Weddings are a pleasure,” Angelica corrected her sharply. “Besides, it’s why our guests are here.  I’m sure they’d rather discuss the many rooms of the house and abilities of the kitchen than festering horse maladies.” I bit back a grin as Angelica bulldozed past Yvonne’s (admittedly valid) point. I liked Angelica. “There is a large ballroom that could be used as servant quarters as well as eight bedrooms upstairs.”
     “That’s wonderful! Unlike my well-loved fiancé, I only have one guest. How lovely that there will be room for her. Though she’d probably just sleep on her boat anyway,” I added under my breath. I noticed a sharp look or two exchanged between Andrews and the three women. “Oh! There’s nothing wrong with the house,” I hurried to assure them. “It’s gorgeous. She just really, really likes her boat.”
     Andrews chuckled softly to himself. “I will be happy to offer accommodation to any of your guests.” 
     Ian interjected before I could pursue Andrews’ odd reaction. “I’ve been instructed to inquire as to the outdoor seating arrangements,” he said, looking between Angelica and Andrews. I tuned out for that part of the conversation. These were Ian’s friends and colleagues, and there wasn’t much I could contribute. I was perfectly happy to sit and eat quietly.
     Angelica finally excused herself to her work after the meal had finished; Yvonne barely waited until the woman had left to immediately begin discussing business with Andrews. 
     “Before she comes back I do need an answer regarding that parcel. It’s only 20 acres but includes valuable coastline and stables, three horses, four men and two women -- I’m sure we could house them here or build more cabins. I’d like to see us extend our operation into more fishing. It would put less of a burden on our kitchens.”
     I paused, stunned. Three horses, four men and two women.
    “So this land would be mostly for internal support? Helene, what are our resources to take on more mouths?” Andrews asked.
     Four men and two women.
     “We would need more housing.  The fishing would be welcome.  It would be a drain on our resources until we saw the profits, perhaps two years,”  Helene mused.
     Four men and two women.
     Carefully, I placed my fork on my plate and my hands in my lap and closed my eyes, fighting to draw air and remain calm. The food in my stomach had turned to lead.
     “Not two years.  Where there’s coastline there’s opportunity.  Just ask the lady here, she’s bought so much of it.”  Yvonne motioned at me.
     Four men and two women. Four men and two women. Four men and two women.
     The words echoed in my head. I must have misheard.

     “I beg your pardon,” I heard myself say, “but did you - you are contemplating the purchasing of humans?” 
     “Yes, she did even though she knows the rules.” Angelica said as she waltzed back in the dining room, halting the conversation.
     “Why? Why would you do that?” I asked Andrews, barely keeping my disgust under wraps. The table had fallen silent.
     “We have a lot of people to feed here. The extra labor dedicated to fishing would help.” Andrews looked at Ian in confusion. “It’s a vital part of land development as I’m sure you realize since you’re in production on your own parcel.”
     I stared at him, sickened by his nonchalance. Of course I own slaves, you silly girl, it’s important to my business. He might as well have been twirling his mustache up at the ends. Fucking white people. Some things never changed. I stood abruptly. 
     “Excuse me,” I said, standing abruptly. “I feel unwell.” As usual all of the men stood as well, but I had already started walking, almost running out of the house. What a terrible day to be fluent in English. I walked blindly, ignoring the calls of concern from behind me; my stomach was roiling, and I needed a private place to throw up.
     Pausing to collect myself, I took a look around, getting my bearings while my stomach curdled and heaved. I had wandered into an agricultural section, complete with African field hands.

     No.

     Slaves. 
     Graham Andrews had a fucking plantation. 
     I promptly emptied my stomach onto an unsuspecting patch of scrub, then sank to the ground.

     All I had heard from everyone was how fabulous and wonderful and lovely Andrews’ estate was. No one had mentioned that it was a plantation.
     Including Ian.
     I vomited again, even though there was nothing left.

 

     “Lady Isabelle?” 
     “Lady Isabelle?”
     They were searching for me; I had heard everyone calling my name for some time, but I just continued to wander farther and farther away. They would find me eventually, and I wanted to put that off for as long as possible.

     Unsurprisingly, I found myself by the horses. I walked around to the rear of the huge enclosure, watching the graceful creatures inside. A curious foal made his way over to me, and I reached out to him carefully. He sniffed at me, rubbing his head against the fence until his mother nickered for him to return.  
     “I thought I might find you here.” Ian’s voice sounded from over my shoulder, and I spun around to face him. He stared down at me in concern. “Whatever is the matter, Isabelle?”
     “I need to leave, now,” I told him, wiping my face roughly. “Will you please take me back to town?” I turned away to blot my face again. “I can’t stay here. Please, Ian.”
     “Now, my lady?”
     I turned to him resolutely. “I’ll leave without you if I must.”
     “If you insist, my lady.” He offered me his arm, and I took a moment to gather myself before taking it. “I wish you would tell me why you’re so upset. It’s clear that you’ve been crying,” he added quietly, dabbing at my face with a linen square.
     “I will tell you. Once we’re gone.”
     “Lady Isabelle! A moment, please!” Helene called out. It would be rude to ignore her, so I stopped. Reluctantly. “You are upset. I see that. Please do not leave yet.”
     “Will you speak with her?” Ian asked me. I nodded. “I will give you a moment,” he told me, withdrawing to give us privacy.
     “I apologize for my rudeness.” I paused, taking her in. For the first time, it occurred to me that Helene likely numbered among the enslaved here. And Angelica. And Yvonne. Black or brown, each of them...

     I felt sick all over again. “I’m sorry. But I can’t be here. I didn’t know about Mr. Andrews’ practices,”  I concluded stiffly, hoping that I wouldn't throw up or faint on her.
     “Lady Isabelle, please just listen.  Your wedding is very important to me.” I blinked at her. That was unexpected. “Your wedding here, on this land, in front of this man and all the others here is important to me.  I need-- certain people to see that you marrying Lieutenant Commander Coventry is a brave act of love that can be repeated.  Go if you must.  But then return.”
     Wait. I turned to look her in the eyes. Magnus, the heir to his father’s everything. “You mean Mr. Andrews? Because you have a child together...”
     “Three.”
     Three? My eyes widened. The fuck was he waiting on, then? A noise of disgust escaped me, but I bit my tongue on the mountain of scathing retorts I wanted to make about Graham Fucking Andrews. “I know you’re probably...” I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘well treated’. “Not suffering overly. And I am foreign to the way you live here. But I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt that slavery is wrong, no matter how fine your dress or how respectable your work is. A gilded cage is still a cage.” It was horrifyingly refreshing to have a matter that was firmly black and white, with no possible shades of grey.
     “And the sky is blue...at least for today,” Helene said. I was taken aback by how cavalier and matter of fact she was about it. “And for today I am not in charge of my fate. But the seasons change and so, I hope, might my life as well.” Helene took my hand. “Go. But return.”

​

     Ian all but carried me back to the dock, and then to my seat on the small ship. Helene had given me a lot to think about, and we were nearly back to land before I found myself capable of coherent speech again.     

     “Mr. Davies. I’d like you to look into how much it would cost for us to operate independently, discreetly, please. Start with the mill.”
     He looked at me thoughtfully. “You don’t wish to work with Mr. Andrews?” 
     “I want to know what my options are,” I replied, then turned to Ian. I lowered my voice. “I know there are expectations, but there must be some other location suitable for the ceremony.” I waited for his response.
     Ian studied me with pensive eyes. “The practice of slavery disturbs you greatly,” he said finally.
     “It doesn’t disturb you?” I asked him sharply.
     He paused, like a man aware of the millions of eggshells surrounding him. “I have grown accustomed to its prevailment.”
     What the hell did that mean? Oh my god, I never thought I would have to ask a significant other this but...I took a deep breath. “Are you a participant in the practice?”
     “No,” he replied firmly. Ian had a curious but solemn expression, like he thought I was being naive and eccentric again but wouldn’t push me on a topic I viewed with such seriousness.
     “What about your parents? Or any other close family members? Anyone over in the colonies with a sugar plantation or anything?” I added suspiciously. He shook his head and I let out the breath I hadn’t known I was holding in. If he had said yes, I would have broken Anne out of jail myself and begged her to take me the fuck home. “What did you mean by prevailment, then?” 
     He sighed heavily, looking across the water. When he met my eyes again, he had made a decision. “I will show you.”
     Upon our return to the port at St. George’s Ian took me on a stroll, despite the gathering clouds with their portents of rain. Josefa-Maria served as chaperone, walking several paces behind us.

     I always enjoyed walking with Ian - holding onto him and listening to his amazing voice - but today I found myself impatient as he pointed out various familiar boats, stalls and shops. He was trying to soothe me, I reminded myself. Just allow yourself to be soothed.

     And I tried, I really did, but after the umpteenth delivery porter that he directed my attention to, I sighed with frustration. “What are you doing, Lieutenant Commander?”
     “I am showing you the world in which you live,” he said simply. I frowned back at him, confused and irritated. Fortunately, Ian was far more patient than I. “Do you know where the vegetables and crops at your inn come from?”
     “A farm of course,” I replied flippantly. “The Thompsons, I believe. What of it?”
     “Who do you suppose provides the labor on that farm?”
     “The farmers--” No. I turned to stare at him. “You don’t mean to say--” But he was already nodding at me. 
     Ian turned and began to gesture at the ships. “The people who load and unload these crates of goods. Captain Beekh of that vessel has over a dozen male slaves. You can tell by their brands--”
     A fine tremble had started in my limbs. “Enough.” I fumbled in my reticule for a joint, wishing I had something stronger. 
     “Lady Isabelle?” Josefa-Maria appeared at my side to light it for me, using one of the post lanterns. I nodded my thanks as I took it back from her, my hands still shaking.
     “So all of these places and people you’ve been pointing out to me...they all have enslaved persons as part of their business structure?” As a patron, I was... undeniably complicit, like finding out your favorite designer used a sweatshop. It was no wonder that Davies and Lavigne had found my firm stipulation to never use slave labor so strange.
     “There are others, as well,” Ian began, then stopped.
     I steeled myself. “Go on.” 
     “Lady Catherine.”
     “What about her?”
     “Her maid? She was a gift from Lady Catherine’s husband, Commander Sutton.”
     “Bessie?” I asked, incredulous. “She’s enslaved?” A gift. I had looked at their relationship with envy. I didn’t even have words for the shame I felt about my thoughts about the women I had eaten with this afternoon. Things like ‘consent’ and ‘friendship’ were impossible under such circumstances. 
     “I do not recall the girl’s name,” he replied neutrally. 

     I was a lady. Lady Isabelle would not burst into tears in public.
     “Bessie,” I hissed, giving him a dirty look. “Her name is Bessie. She has a little brother named Quinn. They both like apples, and we gave him a montadito,” I added accusingly, giving him a withering glare.
     I was being eccentric Lady Isabelle, as usual. I had seen the looks on the faces of the others at the table. Every last one of them - including the enslaved women - thought I was touched in the head. It was baked into the fabric of their reality; there wasn’t anyone here I could commiserate with who would understand. Well...almost no one. 
     God. Did I dare?
     “You object to holding the wedding on Mr. Andrews’ grounds because he is a slave owner,” Ian stated slowly. “Would it make any difference to you to know that he is considered to be a very fair master?”
     “No,” I snapped. “It would not.” I was going to have to dare, I realized. I allowed myself a small groan. Desperate times. “Lieutenant Commander, I need to see my sister. Now, please.”
     Astounded, Ian ran a hand over his head. “You wish to journey to Fort St. Catherine’s now?” He held his hand out, emphasizing the beginning drops of rain. “My love - Andrews’ estate is not a place of cruelty and malice. You saw the place, and the people - he is not an oppressive man--”
     “Ian, please - and I say this with the utmost love, and deepest respect - stop fucking talking.” I all but growled that last at him as I stalked away towards the carriages.