I said, “Oh, you were teasing? It would be no worse than some nights I have spent, and better than others.”
The grin on his face turned to stone, just for a moment. Then he looked down at his lap and back to my face, his smile as warm as ever. “Tell me about those places. Since having disappointed the Roberts family with the prize of a rich husband for one of theirs, I have heard a great many libelous and bilious rumors regarding your past.”
“I know nothing of their rumors but I will gladly tell you the truth. I was captive almost six years. Hardly a life of crime and thievery.”
“Captive? As in a story? By whom? Tell me.”
“No, not as in a story. My family was torn from our home by Saracen pirates. Then the ship was taken by English privateers. My brother made to be part of them, my father killed, my mother abandoned. My sister, Patience, and I were sold as slaves in a colony of Reformed Puritans, and then captured again.”
“Slaves!” His eyes formed narrow slits, just as a cat, half asleep, watching, waiting. “But you are educated.”
“I was beaten and starved so that I thought I might die. I was captured by Indians and taken to the Canadas where French nuns made me work in fields until I was sunburned and sore, then work at a loom day in and day out for a crust of bread and a bit of thin soup. I was educated there. All that is behind me now.”
“But, you seem—you have every appearance of aristocracy. The right hair, the perfect form and size. And you were a slave?” He said it with such revulsion I felt shame.
I wanted to explain, to tell him what I had endured to come to the place where I was, and how enduring it had shaped me. “I was. It was terrible. This is a good time to tell you, also, that I would have it that we keep no slaves, ever. I will not own anyone but myself.”
“As a slave, did you have to perform everything you were told to do?”
“Of course.”
“Did your master require you?”
“Every sort of work. Milking goats. Washing and carrying for their lazy daughters. He made me charge his pipe.”
“I know something of what a slave is to do. He made you do what to his pipe?”
“So he could smoke it.”
“And did you?”
“Yes, quite often. I met one fine man there. Reverend Johansen. He was ever good to me. He spoke to me so kindly. I was glad of his friendship but of course when we were carried away to the Canadas, he could help me no longer. He died recently.”
“I see. What other men were there?”
“Even though the house was so tiny, people stayed overnight often. We had to sleep one upon the other. Lukas Newham claimed to love my sister but he was false. Some others were gentlefolk. Even my master, though I hated him and he beat me, was so kind to his children. You should have seen him when Lonnie fell into the fire. Birgitta beat me, too. They went to the wilderness to form their own town. That is where the Indians took us. They made us walk for over a month.”
“Indians took you? Barbaric! What did they do to you?”
“Often they carried us. They were not so terrible as you might think.”
“I dare not think of it, dear one.” He took a long, last drink, finishing off his tankard of beer. “This is very sad news, indeed. Very sad.”
I laid my smallest bundle on the table before me. Upon it, tied so that I could reach it quickly, were the two letters, one to me and one to Mr. Roberts. “But I am alive, Wallace. And I love you. That is all that matters, now.”
“What is that you have, Miss Talbot, my dear? Did you write me a love letter?”
“No, though I should have liked to had I thought of it. These contain two addresses of the solicitors in Jamaica to whom I shall apply for my estate.”
“Apply? Why must you apply for it? Let me see them. I am already so distressed hearing your tale that I can hardly bear more. Why did you not bring them to me so that I could take care of this for you? You know you have no head for business. May I?”
“Of course,” I said, and pulled them both from the bundle. “I merely wanted to have the office names so that when we get there I might find them.”
As he read, his face lost its warmth and he pursed his lips. He made a fist with one hand and read the letter again.
“It is rather complicated,” I began.
He raised his hand to quiet me. “Wait here,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“Business. I must check into this. Wait here for my return.” He dropped two shillings on the table as payment for our repast.
“Yes, of course,” I said, watching the coins twirl in ever shrinking circles, closing, closing, until they collapsed, one upon the other.
“Wait for me, here,” he repeated. He stood and adjusted his hat.