Master Of Paradise (10 page)

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Authors: Virginia Henley

BOOK: Master Of Paradise
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Nicholas knew a good thing when he was on to it. He began to win so many Thoroughbreds from the good ol' boys, that he was soon busy building stables for his newly acquired horses. The two evenings per week, dining at the Jacksons and poker with the boys, were the only social indulgences he allowed himself.

His neighbors never failed to be amazed at this, for Southern life was a continual round of leisure and pleasure. There were horse races, fish fries, barbeques and balls. You could not pass a riverbank without seeing a young man picnicking in the lush green grass with a lovely belle, while the incongruous
Mammy
sat a short distance apart as chaperone.

 

All the young ladies of the county out to catch husbands encouraged gentlemen callers to the point where it became a contest to see who could get the most in one day. From Nick's association with the other men, he realized the lines were drawn between females much more so than they were in England. Young ladies must be treated with exaggerated gallantry to protect their innocence. Men did not take married women as their mistresses. Good women were protected forever from men's base appetites, but when it came to poor white trash or black wenches, you could screw the arse off them.

 

Just before the cotton crops was about to be picked, Nicholas arrived at the Jacksons early for dinner, since he knew his next visit would be a long way off. Laughter floated to him on the warm autumn air and following the voices, he discovered Jennifer Joy entertaining two of her beaus on the side verandah. The vine-hung porch was a cool, inviting bower covered with climbing roses and grapevine. Jennifer sat amidst twelve yards of pale blue muslin over hoops, holding a delicately painted fan that she wielded as an aid to flirtation.

Stuart Beverly, a dreamy looking youth with dark romantic eyes and soft brown curls sat worshipfully at her feet while Beau Hampden lounged against one of the pillars. As Nicholas brought Jennifer's hand to his lips, he clearly heard her quick intake of breath, as if his great physical power struck her like a blow. To cover her momentary fluster she said, "I declare, I can't imagine what's happened to those drinks I sent for. Y'all will think we have slothy servants."

Beau drawled, "A buggy whip sprys 'em up. What do you say Nick?"

"Anybody would be spry if they were being whipped-- you included, Beau," he said smoothly.

This brought a snicker from Stuart and a giggle from Jennifer. As Beau gave him a look that clearly wished him in hell, Nicholas offered, "I'll go and see what the hold up on the drinks is all about."

On his way through to the vast kitchens, he could hear Mammy Lou's voice raised in an argument. "All ah's sayin', Miz Mandy, is yo' should go out on dat porch an' observe what yore sister does."

Amanda stamped her foot. "I've watched her 'till I'm cross-eyed. Only a moron would be taken in by her stupid act. She smiles over that damned fan and promises exciting things with her eyes, so they'll try to get her alone. She keeps them dangling like damned open-mouthed trout on the end of her line with her
maybes
and
perhapses
. She's in her glory when her beaus beg and plead and coax for her favors."

"Amanda Virginia Jackson, shut yo' mouth wiv dat cussin'. Folkses think yo' a low-life!" Mammy shouted.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me out to that verandah. She
simpers
!" Mandy shouted back. "Her beau's should have seen her this morning sitting with buttermilk on her face to bleach her freckles."

Nicholas poked his head through the kitchen doorway. "Excuse me ladies, but I have been sent to find out what happened to the refreshments."

"Nicholas!" Mandy cried, delirious with happiness. He was her only ally in a houseful of enemies. Only Nicholas understand her motives and her ideas. He could almost read her thoughts, and there was a definite meeting of minds between them; something she had never achieved with anyone else. Of course when she did something outrageous, his lips tightened and his brow lowered in disapproval, but he never preached at her, never ever nagged her to death like other people.

Amanda was now fourteen, long-legged as a colt. "Let's go out to the porch where it's cool."

Mammy stood, hands on hips, dumfounded that Mandy had argued for an hour about going out to the porch and now, in a flash, she changed her mind completely. "Dat chile one big mystery to me," she complained loudly.

Nick's eyes traveled from one sister to the other. Jennifer Joy had posed herself as if sitting for her portrait. She had carefully selected the right background, the most flattering dress color for her golden hair, and was at work saying just the right things.
She looks like a china doll.

Mandy perched on the porch rail, the edges of her pantaloons showing, her hair a mass of tangles and kiss curls. Her dark mysterious eyes with their golden lights fastened upon her sister, gave away none of her thoughts, until Jenny gushed, "Oh Beau, you say the cleverest things!" Then Jennifer gave Nicholas a sidelong glance to see if the attention she gave Beau angered him, as she hoped it would. Then Mandy's eyes rolled heavenward, and Nicholas could read the thoughts so plainly written there.

Their eyes met in amusement, and suddenly the others present were aware that Nicholas and Mandy were sharing secrets.

To Nicholas, Mandy so unselfconscious, was utterly lovely, utterly captivating, and utterly desirable. He stood up abruptly as Cleo appeared with a tray of cool drinks. "I came early, hoping to speak with Mr. Jackson."

"They started picking today. Daddy hasn't come in from the fields yet," Mandy said.

Jennifer made a little moue of distaste. "I'm sure I don't know why he has to go to the fields when he pays others to do it for him."

"He always goes the first day," Amanda pointed out.
Nicholas grinned tauntingly. "I won't just be there; I'm picking tomorrow."
Everyone save Amanda looked deeply shocked.
Nick continued wickedly, "Does that mean you won't receive me anymore, Miss Jennifer?"
"Why, Mr. Peacock... Nicholas, I hope I have prettier manners than that," she said, angling for a compliment.
"Prettiest manners in the whole of Carolina. Purely and absolutely," he replied solemnly.
Mandy whooped and threw her legs up, almost going backwards over the rail.
Nicholas bowed. "I'll go and give my compliments to your mother."

When he departed, Jennifer looked daggers at Amanda, but she still kept up the façade in front of Stuart and Beau. "Mandy, honey, don't you think you should tidy up before supper, seeing we have such handsome guests tonight? I declare your hair makes you look like you were brought up by wolves."

Amanda looked intently at Jennifer's hair for a full minute, and her sister thought she was about to blurt out that she had used something to lighten the color.
If she opens her mouth I'll die,
thought Jenny,
I'll simply die.

Mandy left without a word.

 

When Bernard arrived home he saw Nick and invited him into his office. Jackson's face was burnt red from being in the sun all day. "When do you start?"

"Tomorrow," Nick answered with a grin.
Bernard nodded. "Looks mighty good."
"I find that nothing on Earth compares to riding my own acres."

"Well, I used to feel that way, but now that's exactly how I feel about Congress. Frankly, I miss Richmond. I'm thinking of returning for a short spell this winter."

"When your crops in, will you take it to Charleston or will your overseer do all that?"

"Hell, no need to go to that trouble. Before it's picked this place and yours will have attracted more than one agent-broker."

"You mean sell the crop to an agent for a commission?" Nick asked.

"You can be sure they earn it. They have to freight it, store it, and sell it. Saves a lot of work."

"I don't mind the work. I'm taking my own in to sell. Tell you what, Bernard, I'll act as your agent. I'll match any price offered by the brokers, but I'll keep any profits," he warned.

Bernard looked at him and grinned. He admired Nick tremendously. Admired his ruthless singleness of purpose. "I know you intend to plow your profits into more land, and that's good, but don't spend any capital on buying more slaves, Nick. They're pricey right now, and I have hands who'll sit idle all winter. I'll lend you men for land clearing and draining."

"I'll pay you wages for them, Bernard. You are too generous."

"I won't hear of it. You'll repay me in ways aplenty. When I go up to Richmond you can stay here and watch over the ladies for me. You know I have my eye on you as a prospective son-in-law." He chuckled. "When you're rich of course."

 

Nicholas actually enjoyed picking his cotton and he could see his men also took pride in gathering the fruits of their labor. It seemed impossible that those tiny green shoots they had nursed along in the spring had developed such large strong bols that had swelled and suddenly burst open into acres and acres of dazzling whiteness. They stayed at it from dawn until the last light faded from the skies.

As Nicholas began to see how much cotton they had produced, and added what he realized the Jackson Plantation would produce, he began to think about transporting it to Charleston. Such a bulky crop would entail endless wagon trips, so he decided to float it up to town. He had endless stacks of logs from land clearing, and all they needed was lashing together to make rafts or flat barges. Vulcan and Lance were already in a contest to see who could pick more cotton in a day, so he left them at it and chose Jason and Luke to fashion the rafts.

When the two crops were finally baled and loaded they filled an incredible thirty barges. Nick made two flotillas, of fifteen rafts each.

Bernard and all his people came out to view such a unique sight, and Amanda rode with them five miles down the riverbank on her newly acquired filly,
Miss Louise
.

Bernard Jackson shook his head. In Nick's case, ignorance had been an ally. If he had known the hazards of cotton-- the weevils and the bol worms, and the damp from too much rain that rotted the bols from the inside, it could have been a deterrent to his success. Bernard decided not to mention the tobacco with the blue mold that crept over its leaves, rendering it useless.

 

From his long hours of labor beneath the burning sun, Nicholas was bronzed and hardened. His muscles were taut, his belly flat. He carried not one ounce of superfluous flesh, yet you could not describe him as lean. His body was more powerful that that of any prime field hand and he felt that there was nothing on Earth that he could not accomplish. His black hair, so crisp and curly, had gown long on his neck, curling over his shirt collar in the fashion of Southern men, but he was still clean shaven. He had not yet effected the long mustaches of his peer group. His blue-green eyes were startling in the dark face, and when he laughed the whiteness of his teeth contrasted sharply with his bronzed skin.

In Charleston he captured every eye and turned a few heads as well. Since Brute had been the natural leader of his men, he had appointed him foreman long ago. He bade his men to rest and eat the provisions they had brought, but above all guard the cargo while he departed the docks for the Cotton Exchange to find out about prices. He hope to avoid the expense of warehousing; he also intended to cut out as many middlemen as possible.

Charleston that late afternoon reached a temperature of 105 degrees. It was the hottest Nicholas had ever been in his life. The air was humid and hung still, with no hint of a breeze anywhere. His back, under his shirt ran wetly and made him think of a bath in the little house on Tradd Street.

When he entered the Exchange, cotton was going for thirty-nine dollars a bale. He couldn't believe it. Bernard had been happy to sell at twenty-five. Before Nick turned to leave, the price had risen to forty dollars. When he arrived back at the docks, he saw that runners who went from ships to the Cotton Exchange all day long, had carried the news ahead of him.
Forty dollars and rising!

Nicholas boarded a clipper from Liverpool and made the captain and cargo officer a deal. He offered them his cotton at forty dollars, but he'd also load it aboard for them this evening. "If you come out on deck, you can see it waiting at dockside."

"What's the catch?" asked his fellow Englishman.
"The draft you pay me with will have to stipulate gold. I don't deal in paper money."
"How about Sterling, British?"
"Good enough. Gold, silver, all the same to me."
"Tell you what, if you can get us a custom's clearance so we can sail by midnight, it's a deal."

Nicholas strode up to the customs shed at the end of the wharf and singled out a harassed-looking custom's officer. He put ten silver dollars into the man's hand and pointed him in the direction of the
Lady Mersey.

Each bale was labeled Paradise Plantation.

"Paradise, eh?" commented the custom's officer as he verified the bill of lading.

"Closest to it I've ever found," Nicholas said with a grin. He gave his men the signal to start bringing the bales on board, then after the custom's officer departed, he pitched in himself, toting the bales up the gangplank.

When they were finished he would have preferred to send them straight back upriver to Paradise, but he knew they deserved rest and recreation. Since he was about to indulge himself for a couple of days, he could not deny them. He took them into a waterfront tavern and paid for two days food and board. Then he gave them each the price of a woman. "Brute, I'm counting on you to keep these boys in line. Try and keep fighting to a minimum. Stay close so you don't get picked up by the patrol," he warned.

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