Moonwitch

She was still considering what explanation she would give when she reached the milliner’s shop on High Street. Her Negro groom, Samuel, wasn’t waiting with the gig as she had directed, but it was early yet and she still had her errand to complete. As she was about to enter the shop, however, an elegant black-and-green curricle clattered up the street and came to a halt beside her. The equipage was drawn by a matched pair of bays and driven by her betrothed, Avery Warner, with a young black slave perched up

behind.

Avery was a tall, middle-aged gentleman, distinguished looking rather than handsome, with dark hair graying at the temples. At the moment his stern features were set in an unsmiling expression as he regarded Selena. “Might I take you up with me, my dear? It is unbecoming for you to be walking the streets unattended.”

Selena felt herself flushing at his public censure. “That won’t be necessary, Avery,” she replied woodenly. “Samuel will be along in a moment, and I have some shopping yet to do.”

“But I insist. I cannot have my future wife behaving in a manner that is less than circumspect. It will give rise to gossip.”

“I’m surprised you think it proper for us to be seen together without a chaperon!”

Avery’s brows drew together as he shot her a surprised look; Selena rarely spoke sharply to anyone. “I rather think a chaperon is unnecessary, my dear,” he said in mild reproof. “This an open carriage, and we are affianced, after all. I am simply concerned about appearances.”

Selena pressed her lips together. It was a bit late for Avery to be concerned about appearances, for she had already lent herself to gossip with a vengeance.

“And of course,” he continued in a more tolerant tone, “I am thinking of your safety, as well, Selena. I passed a throng of ruffians fighting in front of the courthouse just now—the courthouse, no less—and not a justice in sight. I was disgusted, I can tell you. Such conduct is disgraceful. Rabble like that should be clapped in jail and not be free to roam the streets. I intend to take it up with the council at the first opportunity.”

She should have told Avery then about her encounter with the “rabble” and their bold, roisterous captain, she knew. But she couldn’t bring herself speak of it, not in the middle of the street with the bright-eyed black groom overhearing her every word. Besides, Avery would learn of it soon enough. And perhaps by keeping silent she would be avoiding an even greater scandal. Avery was sufficiently aroused just now to demand the captain be brought to justice, and she didn’t think Captain Ramsey’s offense was serious enough to warrant a jail sentence.

And so she murmured a noncommittal reply. When Avery insisted on waiting for her so that he could see her home, she gave in gracefully and hastily completed her shopping. She was carrying a bandbox when she left the shop. Avery consigned it to the groom, who stowed it behind the seat, then handed Selena into the curricle, informing her that he had sent Samuel on ahead.

As they left St. John’s, with its Georgian weatherboard buildings and scattering of coconut palms, they turned south onto a narrow road of crushed coral, following the ridge of a hill. From that vantage, Selena had a good view of the warm, wind-washed island.

On her right was a luminous expanse of jewel-blue sea, shading to lighter green as it met the reefs that ringed Antigua and filled the numerous coves and inlets along the coast. The leeward side of the island was sheltered from the full force of the trade winds, so that the waves of the Caribbean lapped easily at the dazzling white sand beaches—unlike the eastern shore, which had no defense against the wind-driven rollers of Atlantic.

Before her stretched a gently rolling landscape, covered by low scrub and verdant fields, and beyond, in the distance, rose Boggy Peak, the highest point of the generally flat island. Except for the slopes of Boggy Peak and the cultivated gardens of the vast plantation houses, Antigua was nearly bare of trees, for there were no major rivers and no dependable water supply, leaving the inhabitants at the mercy of the occasional drenching showers and whatever water they could collect in cisterns and catchments. The lush stands of sugarcane were nearly gone, as well, for the harvest was almost over. Even so, the island shimmered a verdant green.

Selena’s thoughts were centered on the harvest when Avery politely inquired about the errand that had brought her to town.

“I needed a toque bonnet of a particular shade,” she prevaricated, offering that excuse rather than mentioning her trouble with Edith. “I shall be wearing a new gown tomorrow evening.”

“Ah, yes, the lieutenant governor’s ball. I’m sure you will look charming, my dear. But surely you could have sent a servant to fetch it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, in future it might be better if you were accompanied by a maid, or wait till I am free to escort you.”

Selena raised her chin with a touch of defiance. Avery’s request was reasonable, perhaps—in her mother’s day, gently reared females never appeared on the streets of Antigua without being veiled—but Selena had been accorded the freedom of the island since she could first sit a horse. If Avery meant to curtail that freedom so severely before their marriage, her responsibilities as a planter would be difficult to carry out.

“I went to see Mr. Foulkes, if you must know,” she replied. “It concerned a business matter that could not be delegated.”

“I suppose you are referring to Edith’s extravagance. Oh, yes,” Avery added when Selena glanced at him in surprise, “I’m aware that she mortgaged the house to buy a king’s ransom in jewels. An extremely foolish venture, considering the size of her income. I hope you don’t intend to come to her aid.”

“I don’t know that I have much choice. She could lose the house if she can’t redeem the debt.”

“Let her lose it.”

“Avery, it is my home we are speaking of.”

“You will have no need of it when you marry me, my dear. That is another reason to avoid delaying the ceremony any longer. I should like to be in full command of the plantation before autumn planting. Not that you haven’t done an admirable job of managing, particularly for a woman. But your father never intended for you to retain control, rather, to turn it over to your husband. And I’m certain you will be relieved to have such a burden lifted from your lovely shoulders.”

Selena bit her tongue to keep from saying something she would regret, and Avery reached over to pat her hand in an avuncular fashion. “I shall speak to Edith, my dear. I expect I can persuade her to consider your feelings about the house and to abstain from any more reckless expenditures.”

By this time Avery’s curricle was drawing up before the house that so concerned Selena—a single-story, stone construction, cooled by a raised basement and louvered outer galleries and shaded by mango and silk-cotton trees. The arched overhangs of the galleries were supported by slim wooden columns and brightened by cascades of yellow cassia and golden logwood blossoms.

Despite her annoyance at Avery’s lecture, Selena felt obliged to invite him in for tea. The interior was cool and elegant, decorated much like an English manor, with Aubusson carpets and Hepplewhite furnishings that her father had had shipped over from England years before.

Her stepmother wasn’t home, Selena learned from the Negro housekeeper, and Edith still hadn’t returned by the time Avery took his leave, promising to escort her to the lieutenant governor’s ball the following evening. So Selena next saw her stepmother at dinner.