Arabella (34 page)

             
'Belongs to the plantation?'

             
'The massa he done buy me,' Torah said and nodded, her plump chins waggling.  'My ole massa he sell me cheap in the market place 'cause he say I ain't no use to no one no more, but Massa Winston he say he gonna take me home with him and keep me until I die.  He ses as I can help him in lots of ways and he's gonna give me a piece of paper that ses I'se a free woman, but I can still live in his house 'cause he likes me.'  She grinned at Arabella.  'He's a wicked one that Massa Winston but I reckon I wishes I was twenty years younger.'

             
'I'm glad he bought you,' Arabella said for she had taken a liking to the old woman at once.  'But I think it is a wicked thing that you should have been sold at all.'

             
'You mustn't say that!'  Flores looked horrified.  'People don't like abolitionists here, Arabella.  You must be careful or you will be in trouble.  I heard my father telling Mr Winston that the other day.  He wanted all freemen on his plantation, but my father told him that he would upset his neighbours too much.  So he said that he would treat his own people as he thought fit and be damned to his neighbours – but my father warned him to be careful.'

             
Arabella had bent over the cot.  The child was asleep but so beautiful that her heart turned over as she looked at him.  He had dark lashes that lay against his rosy cheeks, but then he opened his eyes and looked up at her and she saw that his eyes were blue.

             
'Hello, my darling,' Arabella said and reached out to touch his tiny hand.  He grabbed her finger, holding on to it tightly and trying to nibble at the tip.  'Are you hungry, my precious?'

             
Something inside her was responding to him, making her want to hold him in her arms and cuddle him.  She had felt a warm affection for Susan Baxter's child, but this one had an immediate and strong pull on her heartstrings.  Smiling, she picked him up, breathing in the warm, baby smell and holding him to her breast.  He gave a chuckle of delight and pulled at her hair.

             
'Mama…' he cooed.  'Mama…'

             
'He calls everyone that,' Flores told her.  'I think Isadora taught him to say it on the voyage here.'

             
He must be the same age as her own child would have been, Arabella thought as she held him up above her, dangling him over her head and hearing his laughter.  And he had called her Mama.  She knew then that she was destined to love him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The journey to George Winston's plantation had taken several days to complete.  The wagon was covered over by a canvas sheet and more comfortable inside than Arabella had imagined.  Perhaps because it was so good to be on firm land again, and to eat in the fresh air, away from the foul stink of the ship, she thought.  Even in the better cabins there had been no way to ignore the stench from the holds, which was probably why poor Susan Baxter had felt ill so often.

             
The voyage was beginning to seem like a nightmare now.  Arabella was blossoming in the warm sunshine, enjoying the sights and smells of her new country – and the food was beyond anything.  It might just be that she had forgotten what it was like to eat good food, she knew, but everything she was given tasted wonderful.

             
They stopped once in the middle of the day for food and drink, but their main meal was at night, when they gathered round the fire and ate  meat roasted over a naked flame, with corn bread and peas from tin plates.  The food was prepared by Torah and a young black man.  He told Arabella that his name was Samson and that he had also been bought by Massa Winston, who had promised him that in time he would be free.

             
'What will you do when you are free, Samson?' Arabella asked him and he shook his head.

             
'Don't rightly know, Miss Arabella.  Ain't never been free.  I wus brought here on a slave ship from Africa when I was a babe and I cain't remember what it was like there.'

             
'You couldn't go back there – could you?'

             
'No, ma'am, wouldn't seem right somehow.  I might go North one day, but I got to earn my freedom so Massa says.  He expects me to work for him for a year and then he'll set me free.'

             
Her bond was for seven years.  Would George Winston expect her to work for him for seven years – or would he set her free?  At the moment it did not seem as important as it had on the ship.  She liked the people she had met since being bought by her new owner, and the life they seemed to expect at the plantation did not sound so very bad. Besides, she had fallen deeply in love with her master's son, and something in her was telling her that she needed to be with this child, to love him and care for him

             
'We are on Mr Winston's land now, have been for some time,' Matthew Roberts told her that afternoon towards sunset.  'I've been here only a few times, and I wasn't sure until this moment, but I believe the plantation is one of the largest in Virginia.  But we are almost at the house now – not the new one they are building, but the original house.'

             
Arabella felt a shiver of excitement as she looked about her.  She had seen men working in the fields a short time earlier.  Most were black, except for a white overseer, but she had become used to the sight of dark skinned men and women on the journey here. The countryside was something she thought she might never grow accustomed to, for it was so different to the gentle English countryside with its huge trees, bright colours and lush forests.

As the house came into view, she sat forward on the buckboard of the wagon, eager to see her new home.

              It was a small house, long and low, the roof sloping over the bedroom windows; the walls were white washed and partly covered by creepers that were heavy with yellow blossoms from which came a soft perfume that she thought might be jasmine.

             
Now the wagon was pulling to a halt and Samson came to help her down.  Arabella stood looking at the house for a moment, then turned as Samson put the sleeping child into her arms.  He woke as she took him, gurgled with laughter and then wriggled impatiently.  She put him down on the dry grass and he immediately sat down hard on his bottom, but pulled himself up again by tugging on her skirts.  Knowing that Master James Winston was a very independent young man, Arabella waited for him to right himself.  She offered her hand, which he accepted with a quaint dignity and then toddled beside her up the path to the house.

             
A woman, who was plainly the housekeeper, opened the door at their approach.  Her first words of greeting identified her as an Englishwoman.

             
'I am Mrs Saunders,' she announced importantly.  'Mr Winston's housekeeper.  I came here from his…from England to be with him.  My family has worked for his for many years and he asked me if I wanted to come.  He sent me on ahead of you to get things prepared. You'll find everything as neat and right as I can make it, Mr Roberts.  Of course it's not what we're used to – but the new house is almost ready and we shall be more comfortable there.'

             
She turned from him to Arabella, her eyes dwelling on her face for a moment.  Arabella fancied there was a hint of disapproval in her eyes but it was quickly hidden.

             
'You'll be Mistress Tucker I dare say.  You're here to take care of the master's son I understand.'

             
'Yes, ma'am,' Arabella replied.  'That was the reason Mr Winston purchased my bond.'  She raised her head proudly, determined not to be cowed by the housekeeper.

             
'So I've been told,' Mrs Saunders said and sniffed.  'Well, I'll get one of the girls to take you upstairs to the nursery in a moment.  Let me look at Master James.'  She came to look at the child clinging to Arabella's hand.  'A lovely boy and just like his father.'

             
'Do you have some milk for him?' Arabella asked.  'We bought some at a farm on the road but it was finished this morning.'

             
'Of course there's milk in the cold pantry,' the housekeeper said scornfully.  'The master's son will not go short of anything in this house.'

             
'If you would show me where the pantry is, I would prefer to see to his needs before we go upstairs.'

             
'You are to be waited on by Flores and myself, that's what the master said.'  The housekeeper looked at her consideringly.  'But start as you mean to go on I always say.  I'll take you to the kitchen and you can see for yourself where things are.'

             
'Thank you,' Arabella said and smiled at her.  'I am sure we shall deal well together Mrs Saunders – if you give me a chance.'

             
The housekeeper nodded but made no comment.  She was not harsh or unfriendly, but Arabella realised that she was keeping her distance – reserving judgement.  She certainly wasn't as friendly as Flores and Matthew Roberts or the other servants, but perhaps she was finding her way in a new land, as Arabella must.

             
She followed the older woman to the kitchen, which was at the back of the house and cool, the pantry reached by going down some stone steps.  The walls had been built of stone so that the temperature remained cool even in the heat of the day, and the milk when it was poured into a cup was fresh and delicious.  James drank half of it thirstily, and Arabella smiled as the housekeeper offered him a small biscuit to accompany his milk.  Judging by the way that he chewed at it enthusiastically it tasted sweet and delicious.

             
'We shall go up now, I think,' Arabella said.  'But later I would like to speak with you, Mrs Saunders.  I need to know your routine so that we do not interfere with it, and to understand how things are run here.'

             
'If you are willing to be guided by me, mistress, I dare say we shan't fall out.'

             
'I certainly hope that we shall be friends,' Arabella replied with a smile of relief.  'This is a new life for all of us, ma'am, and we should strive to make the most of it.'

             
Once again the housekeeper nodded but made no comment beyond summoning a maid to take Arabella upstairs to her room, which was a part of the nursery provided for the child.

             
'She's a sharp tongue on her,' the girl said in what was plainly an Irish accent.  'But she's not bad as housekeepers go.'

             
'Did you come here of your own free will?' Arabella asked.

             
'I came because my daddy died,' the girl replied.  'My brothers were a wild lot and always in trouble with the English.  They were about to be arrested but we ran away and took ship for America – and I ended up here.  I was here before the new master came.'  She smiled at Arabella.  'I'm Maura O'Mara – Maura to you if you like.'

             
'And I'm Bella to my friends,' Arabella said.  'What do you do here, Maura?'

             
'I'm a bit of a cook and a bit of a seamstress,' she replied.  'But to tell the truth I do a bit of anything they ask me so I do.  As long as they feed me well I don't mind what I do – I had enough of starving in the old country when times were hard.'

             
Arabella nodded.  She had learned what it felt like to go hungry in prison and then on the ship, and she hoped she would never have to experience it again.

             
The nursery wing was furnished with plain heavy pieces made of American oak.  But there were rich hangings at the windows and around the bed, which was plainly for her use, and a large armoire had been provided for her clothes.  She smiled as she thought of the dress Susan Baxter had given her; it would get lost in that great thing, she thought and went over to look inside.  To her surprise there were several gowns hanging there – not the silks and satins she had once been accustomed to, but good quality dresses of light blue homespun that would be ideal for wearing in the rather warm climate.

             
'Is someone already sleeping here?' Arabella asked Maura.

             
'The gowns are for you,' Maura replied and her cheeks were pink.  'The master gave orders that you were to be supplied with a few good dresses because you would have nothing with you.'

             
'There is no need to be embarrassed, Maura,' Arabella said.  'I came out here as a convict and Mr Winston bought my bond.  I was convicted of murder and my sentence is seven years penal service.'

             
'But surely you were innocent?'

             
'Did Mr Winston tell you that?'

             
'No – but he told Mrs Saunders and she told me.  You're to be treated the same as any of us, Bella.  Mr Winston doesn't hold with owning men or women, thinks it a sin, he does, though he hasn't had the time to set all his slaves free yet.  He bought them with the plantation, you see – but I've been told it's his intention to have all freemen working here.  He won't be popular with his neighbours, but from what I've heard of him he won't let that change his mind.'

             
'He sounds…an interesting man.'

             
Everything Arabella had been hearing about her employer had made her think that she would find him a man she could respect.

             
'I've not met him yet,' Maura told her.  'Mr Roberts did all the negotiating over the plantation, and it was he that hired me so it was.  We've most of us to meet the master yet – apart from Mrs Saunders and she's worked for his family since she was a young girl.'

             
'I wonder when he will come here,' Arabella said, her curiosity aroused.  'Flores Roberts told me only that he had gone to Washington on business.'

             
'He's a rich man, Mr Winston, so Mrs Saunders says – and an important one if she is to be believed.  I dare say he'll be making friends and meeting other important folk.  He doesn't have to come here much at all unless he likes.  Mr Roberts will do all that is necessary.  The master will likely live in Richmond so he will and visit us when he thinks about it.'

             
'Yes, perhaps,' Arabella said.  'And yet if he doesn't plan to live here – why should he build a fine new house?'

             
'In the old country the English sometimes built fine houses but they didn't choose to live in them very often,' Maura said with a wry twist of her mouth.  'There's no telling with them – the rich ones, that is, saving yourself, Bella – and that's the truth of it.'

             
Arabella smiled inwardly.  She had taken to the Irish woman, just as she had to Flores and Matthew, Samson and Torah.  Mrs Saunders was a little more difficult, but was not unfriendly, merely reserved.  If the rest of Mr Winston's household was as friendly life here could be very pleasant indeed.

Arabella found that life at the plantation was even more pleasant than she had imagined.  She had expected that she would have a mistress who would tell her what her duties should be, but soon discovered that she was allowed to do as she pleased.  Indeed, it soon became plain that the care of the child was to be left to her discretion.  Flores Roberts helped where she could, and Torah was a wonderful source of information when it came to easing teething problems and sore bottoms.