However, what I had most to fear was being carried off by mosquitoes. Despite the netting around my bed, the constant whining of those devilish insects had kept me awake nearly the whole night, and in the morning I was covered with bites. Richard took one look at me when he arrived and chuckled knowingly. “They do like fresh English blood,” he said. “But don’t worry, they’ll get off you as soon as you begin to taste like the rest of us, and then they’ll be gone searching for fresher meat.” He suggested I tell Sukey to burn tobacco or Indian corn in my bedroom to drive out those nasty night flyers.
Richard had a pleasant and easy manner, and I quite liked him straightaway. Though the Mason family estate was some ten miles west of the city, Richard told me that he made his home in Spanish Town, intimating that he hated country life and was bored with plantation operations. His lack of interest struck a note with me: I remembered my father mentioning that his friend Jonas Mason had a son who was not fit for overseeing a plantation. But Richard and I got on quite well, and I found his friendship and knowledge to be invaluable in those first days while I was trying to get my bearings.
As we spoke, our conversation came around to the topic of his sister. Richard enthused that a more beautiful woman could not be imagined—those were his exact words. Older or younger? I asked, in an offhand sort of way. He smiled, and his gaze went off in another direction, as if he were remembering fond childhood scenes. A bit older, he said. Well, I was a bit older than he, I guessed, and that seemed to me a very good sign. “Ah,” I said casually, “and is her husband also a planter?”
Richard’s smile changed slightly, not so fond anymore. “She is not married,” he responded. “Nor promised.”
I let it go then, but after he left I played the conversation over and over again in my mind. A more beautiful woman could not be imagined, and neither married nor promised. What young man in my position would not rise to that? And, all the better, she carried already my father’s blessing.
I also learned from Richard that the “small” plantation I had come to own was “only” seven hundred acres, what in Yorkshire would have been a good-size farm. Though it lacked a great house, it was adjacent to the Mason plantation, which went by the name of Valley View. Valley View was two thousand acres and stood at the head of a river valley, from which one could see all the way to the sea.
In time, Sukey came to take the dishes away and replace them with a pitcher of grog. I was already beginning to like the stuff, perhaps because in Jamaica one always adds lime and sometimes sugar as well. As she moved around the table, I noticed Richard’s eyes following her; she was indeed an attractive woman, her skin smooth and walnut colored, her dark hair pulled back into a bun from which a few tendrils had escaped, her expression both pleasant and modest. I could guess where his imagination had gone—or for all I knew, it was a memory from experience. For my part, I had never cared for dark women; I saw enough darkness every time I caught my reflection in a glass. From the time I had had a crush on little Alma at the mill, I had always preferred light skin and hair.
When Sukey had finished and retreated, Richard leaned close to me and grinned. “She was your father’s, you know.”
“My father’s?” I repeated stupidly.
“She could be yours, if you want her. She has good breeding.” He leaned back in his chair, grinning. “A handsome woman, quite pleasant to be with, sweet voice, does not ask for much. And yes,” he went on, “I know Sukey well. I grew up with her; she came from our plantation, but the time came when my father found another place for her. Your father took her.”
I looked back at the doorway through which Sukey had disappeared.
“Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” Richard went on. “Men do not always get away from the plantations to the city as often as they might wish, if you understand my meaning. And their wives are often spoiled and not so interested in pleasing a husband once he has been caught. Of course,” he hastened to add, “my sister is not such a woman, not by any means.”
But Richard’s sister was not at all what I was thinking of. “Sukey was your father’s mistress?” I asked.
He laughed. “No. No, not at all. She is his daughter.”
Chapter 4
After Richard’s revelations, I saw Sukey with new eyes, but lust was no part of it. I had no interest in bedding someone my father had had before me. How cavalierly one can, in ignorance, make assurances to oneself!
Still, it was pleasant to have her around the house and to accompany me around the town that day. She showed me the major sights and buildings, as well as the market, and then she left me at what had been my father’s office and was now mine. One whole wall of the office was intimidatingly covered with legal and tax books, and a middle-aged man by the name of Drew worked there, clearly running the place in my father’s absence. We introduced ourselves, I already realizing that I would have to become a student again, for my apprenticeship under my father in Liverpool had not been nearly extensive enough. We chatted that first day, though he seemed quite guarded, and I was not sure how he would take to serving someone as young and inexperienced as I. But over time, as I let him school me about the business, we both learned to accept the arrangement my father had made.