Love's Fiery Jewel (30 page)

Shaking his head lightly, William smiled to himself.
Strange, he had considered his life quite full and
satisfying before meeting that small, lavender-eyed
unpredictable sprite, and now having come to love her,
found his life quite empty in her absence. Lord! He loved
her with an intensity that was at times frightening, and
acknowledging the power of that emotion over him,
William felt the first prick of uneasiness. Amethyst
would not refuse to return with him... she could
not...he would not accept refusal. Damn his parents'
foolish pride! Amethyst was too sensitive to their
unspoken disapproval, despite the fact that they would
do nothing that would turn their only son against them.
They would accept her in time ...he would explain that
to Amethyst. Once she left the stage and became his wife
they would be able to see her without their prejudices
blinding them to her many virtues. At any rate, he was
determined not to accept No for an answer this time. She
would accompany him back to Sheridan Plantation
today, and they would be married as soon as she was
strong enough to stand beside him at the altar!

Having reviewed his plan again in his mind to his
complete satisfaction, William smiled to himself and
pulled restlessly at his shirt collar. It was particularly
humid today, and he did not want to reach Amethyst in a
dishevelled state. He had taken particular care in
dressing this morning, amused at his own preoccupation with his appearance, but he wanted to look his best. It
had been difficult to disguise the marks of illness that had
not yet completely left his person, manifesting themselves most appreciably in the thinning of his already
slight frame and the vague circles under his dark eyes. He
had surveyed himself with particular discomfort in the
mirror this morning after having dressed meticulously, if
not casually, in light tan britches that previously had
been much too small and now were fashionably tight; and
a fine lawn shirt buttoned only to mid-chest in deference
to the heat of early morning, exposing a ruff of dark
curling hair, the full sleeves that ballooned to the wrist
concealing any further loss of weight that might be
evident upon first glance. Gleaming brown boots
polished to a high sheen and reaching to his knee lent an
aura of trim masculinity, effectively disguising his
otherwise obvious weight loss. His face, still a bit gaunt,
had regained most of its former color, and his freshly
trimmed wavy hair gleamed a rich mahogany, matching
the color of his pensive stare as he frowned at his
reflection with dissatisfaction. Consoling himself that
Amethyst would certainly not expect him to look his best
after such a severe illness, it occurred to him that
Amethyst had probably suffered much the same temporary physical deterioration, but instead of affording
him relief from anxiety, the thought had only increased
his concern.

"No," he thought, in an attempt to regain control over
his rioting emotions once again,"no matter the physical
condition in which I find Amethyst, I will bring her home
with me today and nurse her back to health." Then she
would become his, and he would spend the rest of his life
making up for the hardships she had experienced. He had
had no control over her destiny before, but from this day
on she would live a beautiful, safe existence; become his wife; and then nothing would ever come between them
again.

Sensing for the first time Quaco's furtive glance,
William turned in his direction, only to have the old
Negro snap his head quickly forward. With a small frown
he considered the old man's unusual behavior silently.
His mother had insisted he was not yet well enough to go
to Kingston... perhaps she had instructed Quaco to
keep a watchful eye on her son. Feeling a prick of
annoyance, William shrugged the thought away. Mother
was going to be a problem for Amethyst and himself, but
it would work out. He would make it work out.

Glancing impatiently at his pocketwatch as the
carriage turned with maddening slowness into John's
Lane, William frowned. It was nearly ten o'clock. The
trip had been excruciatingly slow, but it would not be
long now. A gradual giddiness building inside him,
William suppressed the sudden urge to jump from the
carriage and run the rest of the way down the street. His
heart pounding in his chest, he could not suppress the
small smile growing on his face as he pictured
Amethyst's welcome. He remembered little that happened during his illness, but the picture that had
returned again and again to his mind was Amethyst's
worried face at bedside, and the comforting sound of her
voice, even if the words she had spoken were now a
complete blur in his memory. She had spent many long
nights beside him, and he knew she would be relieved to
see him well again.

Hardly waiting for the carriage to pull to a complete
stop, William jumped to the ground, and with two long
strides was pounding at the door to Amethyst's house.
Surprisingly, there was no answer and ignoring the
prickle of apprehension flicking down his spine, he
knocked again, this time calling loudly, "Amethyst... Amethyst, are you awake? Tillie... are you there?"

When there was still no response, William pushed
open the door, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the
dimness of the room to ascertain the identity of the figure
he saw sitting motionless in the corner. Taking a
tentative step I, he said slowly, "Tillie, is that you?
What's wrong? Where's Amethyst?"

A sudden fear gripping his throat, William did not wait
for a response but strode quickly to the door to
Amethyst's room and pushed it open. It was empty! The
bed had been made up and a coverlet carefully arranged
over it. Panic turning his blood to ice, William turned
and within seconds was standing in front of Tillie.

"Tillie, where is Amethyst?" When the dazed woman
did not answer, roughly grabbing her by her broad
shoulders, he pulled her to her feet. With a hard shake,
he demanded again, "Damn you, woman, tell me!
Where's Amethyst?"

Her voice filled with pain, Tillie responded softly,
"Amethyst be gone, Mr. William. Him be gone..."

"Gone!" Beginning to tremble, William stared disbelievingly into Tillie's tortured expression. Lord! She
could not be dead! No! She was almost well... "Where?
Where has she gone, Tillie? Tell me, damn you, before
I...,'

"The obeah-man... Captain Straith...him take
Amethyst away..."

"Straith! But how...? Quaco told me he was afraid to
come near Amethyst because of the fever.. .that he was
preparing to sail..."

"Him come and take Amethyst with him last night.
Amethyst fall asleep, and him pick her up and take him
back to him ship."

A sudden rage filling his being, William whispered
disbelievingly, "The bastard! I'll go to the ship right now and get Amethyst back, and then I'll kill him!"

He was about to turn away from Tillie when her hand
stayed him, her soft words snapping his attention back in
her direction. "No, Mr. William. It be too late. Him sail
away with Amethyst this morning. Amethyst gone...
him gone..."

His youthful countenance draining of color, William
violently shrugged off her restraining hand. "No! He will
not have her! I will get her back, and when I do, I will kill
Damien Straith! No, she is not gone!"

William was out of the door within a second. Giving
not a thought to the carriage awaiting him outside, he
turned to race in the direction of the docks, unmindful of
the curious stares that followed him as he ran. His breath
coming in deep, uneven gasps, he turned the corner into
Port Royal Street, his frantic pace continuing until he
arrived finally at the docks. His eyes anxiously scanning
the area for a glimpse of the Sally, he refused to believe
the evidence of his own eyes and approaching an old salt
who eyed him curiously, he demanded breathlessly,
"The Sally... where is she docked? I must talk to the
captain...

Squinting up from a weather-toughened face, the old
sailor replied slowly, "Well, you're a bit too late, mate.
The Sally sailed this morning with all hands."

Unwilling to believe the man's response, William
gripped him by the shoulders, his anxious face paling as
he demanded, harshly, "Tell me the truth, man! I must
know. Where is the Sally?"

"I told you, damn you. She sailed this morning! Now
take your hands off me before I split your ruddy skull!"

Allowing the man to shake off his restraining grip,
William stood momentarily stunned. Lord! It could not
be true! Amethyst... she could not have been taken
from him by that... that...

Turning back in the direction of the sea, William
stared unseeingly at the empty spot where the ship had
been docked, his eyes seeing only the mental image of
Amethyst's beautiful face, gradually replaced by the
picture of Damien Straith's victorious expression as he
gathered Amethyst slowly into his arms.

"No!" Closing his eyes against the horrendous
thought, William stood trembling with rage as he sought
to eject the image from his mind. Slowly opening his
eyes, he was once again in control of his emotions. With
eyes blazing, he. stared bitterly at the open sea, the pain of
his loss growing deeper with each second. His voice low,
he muttered softly beneath his breath, the fury in his
expression lending full credence to his solemn vow.

"With God as my witness, I swear this day I will find
Damien Straith, and as surely as I stand here, I will make
him suffer for this crime he has committed against
Amethyst, and once she is safely returned to me, I will
see him dead!"

With a dull, bemused expression, Tillie stared at
William Sheridan's back as it disappeared through the
doorway. Unable to feel sympathy for the young man's
plight, she knew only the gnawing void in her own heart
that had numbed her as she had watched the Sally sail
that morning. The pain of her loss deep and excruciating,
she muttered incoherently, "Amethyst be my child...
my soul-child.. .that obeah-man, him steal my child
...take him from me...My child.. .she be lost...
lost..."

She had gone to the docks that morning in an attempt
to dissuade Captain Straith from taking Amethyst with
him, but had been refused entrance to the ship. Reduced
to standing by helplessly as the sailors prepared to lift
anchor, she had watched the ship sail away until it
disappeared into the horizon. What would become of Amethyst now? Would she ever see her again? Would
Captain Straith desert her in Philadelphia, penniless and
friendless when he tired of her? The obeah-man had
ruined Amethyst's chances for a respectable life...
had stolen her only valuable possession, her good name.
What would become of her Amethyst.. .her darling
soul-child? Filled with despair, Tillie had returned to
the small house on John's Lane to sit unmoving in the
same spot William Sheridan had found her just a few
minutes before.

Slowly rising, Tillie walked listlessly to the door of the
house. Not sparing a glance for the frantic figure that
could still be seen running down the street as his man
followed in the carriage a discreet distance behind, Tillie
turned in the opposite direction. Moving more by
instinct than by any conscious direction, Tillie turned
toward Conway Plantation. Stepping from the Kingston
streets to the heavily foliated trail to the plantation, Tillie
made her way to the only person in the world who could
ease her grief.

The sun was setting when a tall shadow darkened the
doorway of the small hut for the first time that day.
Averting tear-filled eyes, Tillie did not see Raymond's
anxious expression as he saw her slumped figure seated
on the low mat in the middle of the room.

Moving quickly to sit at her side, Raymond's deep
voice was filled with anxiety. "Tillie, somethin' be
wrong? Look at Raymond, Tillie." Raising her chin with
his hand, Raymond stroked the light cocoa skin of her
cheek, his voice soft and coaxing. "Tell Raymond what
be wrong, Tillie."

Finally raising her moist, dark eyes to his, Tillie
whispered hoarsely, "The obeah-man take my soulchild, Raymond. Him take Amethyst far away, away from
Tillie. Now Tillie never see him child again... never again..."

Her voice cracking on her last words, Tillie threw
herself forward against Raymond's chest, her body
heaving with the sorrow she had suppressed through the
day. His strong black arms closing around her, Raymond
pulled her close, mumbling softly against her cheek,
"Tillie stay wid Raymond t'night. Raymond mek Tillie
feel better." Swaying slowly back and forth in a rocking
motion as he held her close against him, Raymond
mumbled soft words of consolation as he gently massaged
her back, easing the tenseness out of her ample body with
the gentleness of his touch. Gradually, her sobbing
ceased, but he continued to hold her in his arms,
humming a low, haunting melody familiar to both from
their childhood, lulling Tillie into a sense of peace and
comfort despite the aching voice in her breast. Her heart
filled to bursting, Tillie raised her ageless face to
Raymond, the loving tenderness in her expression
stealing Raymond's breath as he returned her intense
stare.

Her deep voice tremulous, Tillie whispered, raising her
full lips to his, "You be all Tillie have left in this world to
love, Raymond, and love you Tillie will till the day him
die..."

Speechless with the emotion Tillie's soft confession
raised inside him, Raymond clasped her tight against
him, his former gentleness disappearing with the
strength of his emphatic embrace as he wondered at his
amazing fortune that he, a simple field slave, could hold
the love of a woman as beautiful and spirited as his Tillie.
His own voice husky and broken, Raymond whispered in
return, "Tillie be de woman fe Raymond ...fe all him
life... all him life long..."

Standing silently outside the wall of the small hut a
slender figure listened to the halting words of love, her dark face tight with jealousy. Slowly turning away, she
followed the darkened trail back to the slaves' quarters.
Her expression grave, she mumbled venomously under
her breath, "It be Tillie Swann t'night, Raymond, but
Quasheba be ready fe Raymond, `n him be Quasheba's
man soon."