Silver Sea (33 page)

"I'll have sherry," Adrienne volunteered with a note of irony.

"I was just about to ask." Nathan held out a goblet for her, his expression pensive. They drank without toasting, silent except for the incessant creaky-honking calls of guinea fowl in the gardens. At length, Nathan mused, "Perhaps Crowe had a spy at the Careenage."

"How did the spy reach Mr. Crowe before we did?"

"Devil if I know. Perhaps he was on horseback."

"A great deal doesn't make sense."

"I've told you, he's a demon! For all we know, Satan himself whispered your name in his ear. Let's forget about it, hmm? That's the only reason he did this, to make certain we'd torture ourselves trying to puzzle it out for the rest of the day!"

Adrienne found herself gazing around the two big rooms that spanned the front of Tempest Hall. "Tell me about the house, then. It's lovely!"

He seemed to focus on the condition of his home for the first time, and frowned. "It looks as if my entire staff has been on holiday for months! Not only are the field slaves apparently napping in their huts instead of working, but my house looks like the devil!"

Secretly Adrienne agreed. The furniture, which consisted of fine dark mahogany pieces in styles ranging from Sheraton in the dining room to Georgian in the sitting room, needed polishing. Some of the caned chair seats were broken or frayed.

The rooms were painted light tropical colors: pale melon in the dining room and lime in the sitting room. Adrienne thought they were refreshing choices, but noticed that the paint was peeling high on the walls and in the corners, as well as on the jalousie shutters that framed every deep casement window. The beautiful wide-board floors were dark with grime, and the priceless Turkish carpets were dusty.

"Your eyes betray your thoughts," he said. "At least there aren't any draperies to rot and smell."

"Better still, there are window seats! I love any house with window seats." She tried to sound lighthearted. To show disappointment at a time like this would be horribly rude, but Adrienne did feel just a little let down. So far, Tempest Hall bore little resemblance to the splendid manor she'd imagined during their voyage.

"This place is a wreck," Nathan insisted. "It wasn't much before I left, and now it's worse." He watched her. "Your part of the bargain is losing its luster."

"Don't talk nonsense." She had wandered over to study the set of English Coalport china displayed behind glass in the dining room. "You have made far too much of the expressions on my face. Goodness, these dishes are exquisite! It's the Imari pattern, isn't it?"

"The china, crystal, and silver were gifts from my parents when I purchased Tempest Hall. My mother thought that the Imari pattern was a good match for Barbados. 'Savage, elegant, and lush' was her description, I believe." He smiled suddenly, openly, at the thought of his vivacious mother.

"It sounds as if she and I would get along."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Raveneau glanced away. "The Sheraton sideboard used to be in my family's Connecticut home. Most of the rest of the furniture was already in place. The Barbadian mahogany seems fitting."

Adrienne moved to the sideboard to touch the tall, curving glass shades that surrounded every candle in sight. "What are these for?"

"The windows are open all the time, and there is, one hopes, a constant breeze. Those globes keep the candles lit. Some people call them hurricane lamps."

She smiled, looking to the fireplace in the sitting room corner that had never been used. "Your mother is right. I can already tell that life here is a fascinating mixture of the familiar and exotic."

"That's precisely the reason I love Barbados." Nathan tossed back his rum. "This was a grand estate in its day, and I mean to restore it." It killed him to acknowledge that he cared about Adrienne's opinion. "I hope that you'll... be patient. Don't judge my home too harshly on the basis of this first look."

"I love a challenge, and I want to help, at least indoors."

"You'll have a staff, Adrienne, but of course you must tell them your wishes. Unless they've all been bribed by Xavier Crowe, they should obey you." Conversations about their marriage made him nervous. "Once we're rid of that blackguard, Barbados will be paradise."

Another voice spoke from the doorway leading to the back of the house. "Don' you talk dat way sir. Sound suspicious like murder you dream 'pon."

He turned to see Orchid Smythe taking a step into the sitting room, and went immediately to greet her. "Damn, but it's good to see you, Orchid!" His eyes ran over her, making a worried assessment. Small and thin, with great expressive eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a full mouth, she wore the lovely garb favored by free women of the West Indies. Her head was covered by a high, intricately tied blue-and-white-striped turban and a shawl of Madras plaid cotton crossed over the front of her low-necked, laced bodice. The full apron that covered most of Orchid's blue skirt was immaculately white, as if she had just tied it on for the first time.

"I happy seein' you home, Mas—" She caught herself before the word "master" was out. "Captain. Sir. You belong here."

"Tell me the truth. How are you feeling?"

A peaceful smile warmed Orchid's face, which was nearly the color of rich mahogany. "I t'ink I go to God pretty soon, sir. I know dat seem sad, but I rejoice when I go. I jus' wearin' out, plain and simple." She was still smiling when Philip came up behind her and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. "De tragedy is I not much good to work, Captain Raveneau."

"Sit down, Orchid." He motioned to Philip to help her into a nearby rocking chair. "My only concern is your comfort. And if you think a physician could do you any good, we'll send for one immediately."

The old woman waved a hand at him as her husband gently lowered her into the chair. "No, sir. An' no more talk 'bout me. I wan to meet dis pretty lady."

"I am Adrienne Beauvisage, and it is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Smythe." Adrienne drew a chair up close to Orchid's and took her frail hand.

"You actin' too nice, Mistress," the older woman scolded. "Bad 'nuff I can' work much, but makes me feel worse if you carry me 'round like I already dead." Orchid looked up at Nathan, smiling again. "I like she. When you have wedding?"

He cleared his throat. "I—ah—"

"Soon, yes? Here in de garden, so I can watch. Make me happy 'fore I die." She was beaming now.

"All right then, Orchid. If that's your wish, consider it granted," Nathan said.

Adrienne smiled along with the rest of them, but inside she felt odd. It was bad enough that he'd proposed to get her father's land, but now it seemed that only Orchid's deathbed request was causing the wedding to take place in a timely fashion.

"So much work need doing in dis house!" Orchid was saying. "Make it ready for guests."

"I don't think we need to bother with guests," Nathan replied. "I mean, wouldn't it be simpler, and more dignified, to have a quiet ceremony?"

Orchid looked stricken. "Oh, sir, I sorry de house look so bad. You walk inside, look 'round, an' I t'ink you are angry wit me."

"Nonsense. Philip had already explained to me that you hadn't been well." Nathan paused. "But, Orchid, why didn't you organize some of the other workers to do the tasks we discussed before I left? The painting, and reupholstering, and—"

"Mr. Horner not give me de money, sir! He say dere not enough for household spendin', an' I say, one bellyful don' fatten a hog!" As her voice rose, her breathing quickened. "An' Mr. Horner take mos' of de house girl and make dem work in he field! Only Retta help me cook."

A muscle jumped in Nathan's cheek. "Damn him. I begin to wonder if he was in Crowe's employ from the first—perhaps even before I hired him in England...."

Philip spoke up. "I glad he gone. Time for new start."

"Yes. Clearly our situation can only improve." What Raveneau left unsaid was the question of how the plantation would function from now on.

* * *

"I'll show you the rest of the house," Nathan said in a tone that indicated he had countless other matters on his mind but would do his duty.

"Show me my room, and I'll freshen up." Adrienne gave him a crisp smile but inside felt lost, lonely, and disappointed. How long would it be before she had her bearings in this strange world?

Nathan conducted a cursory tour of an impressive library that was located behind the sitting room, then pointed out the narrow gallery that traveled all the way around one side of the house. It had plenty of windows and places to sit and dream and stay cool. Nathan explained that early settlers had learned that galleries not only made good breezeways, but they kept the inner walls of the house cooler and gave an added layer of protection against hurricanes.

"The only reason Tempest Hall has survived for nearly two centuries is that there is coral stone under the plaster facade. The outer galleries and the verandah across the front were added later, I've been told."

Adrienne learned that there was a serving room behind the dining room and that the actual kitchen was detached, to prevent fires. They went upstairs via a magnificent white Chinese Chippendale staircase. On the second floor, Nathan walked Adrienne through various open bedrooms. There was his own, which was largest. It was painted pale lemon and furnished with splendid mahogany pieces, including a massive testered bed. He took her right into his spacious dressing room, pushed open a door on the far wall between an armoire and a chest of drawers, and pointed.

"That will be your bedchamber. I'll... uh, make room for your clothing in here. And I suppose we ought to find you a maid. Perhaps there will be someone among the house slaves whom you'll like well enough."

"I can fend for myself for the time being. The house is in enough disarray right now without giving anyone added duties." Adrienne went into the room slowly, taking in the details one at a time. It seemed likely that this had originally been the bedchamber of the lady of the house, but since Nathan's ownership, it had languished unused. The walls were light coral, peeling near the ceiling, and the Kuba rug was worn nearly to the floor in places. The furnishings were lesser versions of those in Nathan's room: liberally carved pieces in dark Barbadian mahogany.

"God," he said flatly. "Everything in the house looks worse than I remember."

There were dead cockroaches here and there on the floor, and the room smelled of mildew and sultry air. Adrienne ran a finger through the thick layer of dirt that coated a dressing table. "I begin to think that you need a wife more than you care to admit!"

Nathan stared at her. In spite of the rigors of the day, she looked so appealing that he felt alarmed. Long ago he'd decided not to try to measure up to the standard of his parents' blissful marriage. He'd chosen a different sort of life and had carried it off with dashing ease—with the exception of one situation. That incident, and the residual memories, had only hardened Nathan's heart further against illusions of romance.

Now he was about to marry for reasons that had nothing to do with love or devotion. Surely that was better, wasn't it?

"I'll leave you to do whatever it is women do at times like this," he said, his voice slightly choked.

The dressing room door closed behind him and Adrienne was alone. Thick, confusing feelings rose up until she thought she must sob. She sat down on the bed, afraid to bury her face in the old woven spread. Covering her mouth with her hands, she let the sounds come, and felt burning tears spill from her eyes.

After a few minutes of such despair, Adrienne shook herself. Enough of that. She'd chosen to come and would get used to this place. It wasn't a prison. She could go back to France if she chose to, since there were no legal ties between her and Nathan. If she stayed, it would be of her own free will. She wasn't gooseish enough to have come so far and plunged into such deep water simply for adventure's sake.

No, it was for the sake of love. She loved Nathan Raveneau.

There it was, the real truth. It was unnerving to face up to it because it would also mean facing her hurt if he never returned that love, but Adrienne was too honest to shade her eyes from the bright light.

Love. Adrienne wrote the word on her heart, then whispered, "I love him. I want to be his wife."

It was as if a weight had been released. The dead cockroaches were meaningless, as was the dust. This was the home they would share as a family, and transforming it would be just one aspect of Adrienne's grander project.

Might Nathan love her too? Could he ever make peace with such an emotion and all that it implied? Joy and determination joined to give her hope.

A knock sounded at her door and she slipped down from the high feather tick to answer it. A young black woman stood in the hallway, head bowed deferentially. She held a basin filled with water and a cake of soap, and there were linen towels over her left arm.

"How kind you are! Let me help you." Adrienne tried to take the basin from the girl, but she held tight. "I'm Miss Beauvisage. What is your name?"

"Retta," she replied softly, and carried the basin and towels to a washstand near the tile-lined corner fireplace. Retta had thick, curly lashes and great full-moon eyes. Her hair was hidden under a green-striped kerchief that wasn't as tall as Orchid's, and Retta's loose white dress hid a body that appeared to Adrienne to be too thin for good health.

"It's nice to meet you, Retta. I admired Orchid's headdress, and now yours. What is it called here?"

The servant put a hand up to touch the starched cotton. "We call dis 'headtie.' Women tie it certain ways to show if dey married or not. Orchid wearing a turban, 'cause she a free colored lady. De free Creole ladies, born in West Indies, have fanciest turbans."

Adrienne thought that the fashions here weren't so different from those in Regency England. Women would always find ways to enhance their beauty—and indicate their social standing!

"I think your headtie is lovely, Retta!" She gave her a warm smile. "And thank you for the water. It reminds me of how much I'd really like a proper
bath!"