The sound of carriage wheels broke into her thoughts. Rushing out to meet it, she stopped, her stomach plummeting at the sight of a stranger. It wasn’t Alastair returning with news after all. Nor was it Lord Pelham’s.
Anne eyed the driver, his dark skin glistening, his shirt plastered to his back with sweat. He immediately removed his hat and used it to fan his face.
Curious who it could be, Anne moved forward until she stood beside the door. The linen partition covering the window lifted.
The woman’s face inside was older, and marred with deep wrinkles around the mouth. But it was as pale as the underbelly of a fish, as was her hand where it held the curtain aside. Her modest blue satin dress had puffed sleeves that reached to her elbows.
“You’re not Beth,” she snapped, her green eyes narrowing.
Anne stood up straight, unprepared for the venom in the woman’s voice. “No, ma’am. I’m not.”
“Where is she?”
“Inside, ma’am. Shall I get her for you?”
“Of course, you fool. I’m not here to bandy words with some ill-begotten monster.”
Anne felt the blood rush her cheeks in anger. Still, she held her tongue. “And whom may I tell her is calling?”
The woman’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Anne with unconcealed hostility. “Your job isn’t to ask me who I am. Your job is to go and get Beth immediately.”
Fisting her hands in her skirt, Anne narrowed her eyes. “I meant no disre—”
“I could have you whipped for your insolence.”
Anne’s mouth snapped shut and her fury flared like the sails on a ship. An image of Benjamin’s scars flashed in her mind, as well as the unfortunate souls on the docks. “You could certainly try.”
With a curse, the woman reached down beside her and lifted what appeared to be a walking stick. Anne took a step back, wishing for a moment that she had her pistol at her side. She’d taken it off while she was cleaning, and she missed the familiar weight against her hip. How was it possible that in just a few short days, she would come to appreciate the security it afforded her?
“You have the devil in you, girl, and are sorely in need of reverence! Come here!” The woman hit the walking stick on the side of the window and the driver jumped, his eyes widening. It was clear he recognized the sound.
A firm hand on Anne’s shoulder prevented her from retorting. Beth looked at the carriage, her lips thinned. “Go inside and wait for me. Alastair should be back soon with some news.”
Grinding her teeth, Anne turned and marched toward the kitchen, her back ramrod straight. Never before had she experienced so much animosity for people in such a short amount of time. First Lord Pelham and the slavers at the wharf, and now this woman. Patience, Teach’s former betrothed, had been ignorant and cruel, yes. It didn’t excuse her prejudice, but she’d grown up sheltered and spoiled. Here in the islands, people of color were everywhere. This woman’s contempt was palpable, rolling off her in waves. She made Drummond look almost tolerant.
Drawing deep breaths, Anne stepped inside the door and leaned against the wall, a swift, painful throbbing in her chest. She reached automatically for her pocket watch. Closing her eyes, she tried to listen as Beth spoke with the woman, but she could only make out a word or two of their conversation.
Beth’s voice was calm and even, the other was sharp and piercing. Even from a distance, Anne could feel the woman’s hatred. Treated poorly as a free person of color, Anne could only imagine what actual slaves had to endure.
A few minutes later, Beth returned to the kitchen, the sound of the carriage fading in the distance. Anne watched Beth closely, waiting, but the older woman said nothing as she moved toward the pantry and withdrew a burlap bag.
“Who was that woman?” Anne asked, anger making her voice sharp.
“That was Governor Webb’s wife.”
Anne’s stomach dropped. “Did she have any news of the Deliverance and her crew?”
Beth picked up a small spoon, measuring some of the green leaves from the bag. “No, that’s not why she came.”
Frustrated, Anne clenched her hands, the pocket watch cool against her hot palms. “What did she want?”
“Would you mind getting the mortar and pestle for me, please?”
Anne hesitated, but only briefly. Slipping her mother’s watch into her pocket, she marveled that Beth could remain so calm. Anne’s entire body was tense, the blood still pounding in her ears. On the way to the pantry, Anne passed the shelf where she’d placed her pistol while she cleaned the kitchen. Once she had done as Beth had asked, Anne retrieved it and slung the pouch over her shoulder, grateful for its familiar weight. She slipped the pistol free and unscrewed the barrel as Coyle had shown her. Perhaps it was time she kept it loaded.
Beth raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Anne bit her lip, aware that beneath her anger, there was a layer of fear. Growing up in Bristol, her half brother Henry had often bullied her, but she had learned how to fight back. She’d endured snide remarks and disgusted looks. This was the first time a complete stranger had ever physically threatened her, and Anne hated to admit that she was frightened. Not only for herself, but for others as well.
“That woman,” Anne said, unable to remain silent. “She’s evil.”
“There are many more like her.”
“It’s not right.”
“No, it’s not.”
Tears prickled the back of Anne’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly, refusing to let Webb’s wife have that much power over her. The prejudice Anne had endured in England had not prepared her for this level of hate.
“Come here,” Beth said.
Anne shook her head and looked away, toying with the weapon in her hands.
Beth’s fingers closed over Anne’s, and she removed the pistol. “Come here, child.” Before Anne could protest, Beth wrapped her in her arms.
The embrace reminded Anne of her mother, Jaqueline. Aside from Teach, Anne’s mother had been the only one to ever hold her. Anne had felt alone for so long. Unable to stop the flood of emotions, Anne leaned into Beth’s shoulder and sobbed.
Beth said nothing, she simply held Anne while weeks of frustration, fear, and uncertainty poured out of her. Eventually, Anne drew back and Beth handed her a kerchief to blow her nose.
“I’m sorry,” Anne whispered.
Beth smiled, her expression sad. “For what? For being human? There’s no need to apologize. You’re in a strange place and you’ve just seen your friend arrested. You’ve been through a lot. And are sure to endure much more before your journey’s through.”
Anne sniffed. “I saw a ship this morning. They were unloading slaves.”
Beth’s expression hardened. “There will always be people getting rich off the misery of others.”