Cursing Pedro under my breath, I pushed open the stage door and strode towards the parade ground, Hog trailing behind still hoping for a reply. I needed some space, some fresh air, to think – and to cool down. The bond between Pedro and me had been stretched to the limit by his flight but still it tugged on my heart. My bitter thoughts were really only a vent for emotions: I didn’t mean them. He infuriated me – but he was still my family, my brother. After all, I reminded myself, he might have tried to get a message to me – smugglers did not make the most reliable go-betweens; I might be blaming him for no reason. As for what I would do next, I didn’t really have a choice where he was concerned. If there was the slightest chance I could help him, I would take it.
Briefly I imagined heading back to Philadelphia and explaining to Lizzie and Johnny that I had let Pedro go to San Domingo without even trying to find out if he really knew what he was doing. No, I couldn’t see myself having that conversation.
I then pictured finding a boat to take me to San Domingo, hunting down Tivern and discovering Pedro’s whereabouts. Unpleasant though the prospect was, I could imagine myself doing just that. It appeared that I was not going to visit the delights of Antigua after all.
Turning to Hog, I passed on my message:
‘Please convey my thanks to Mr Shepherd and ask him if he can secure a passage for me to San Domingo on the first available ship.’
Hog touched the peak of his cap in acknowledgement. ‘He said you’d say that, mademoiselle.’ He gave me a gap-toothed grin and sauntered off in the direction of the Medici.
I hadn’t realized I was so predictable. But then Billy and I had always understood each other better than other folk. Now all that remained was the problem of breaking the news to Mrs Peabody – her new leading lady was about to duck out of her contract.
‘No. Absolutely not. I will not hear of it!’ Mrs Peabody was in full flight and had been for the last five minutes. She had scarcely listened to my arguments and pleas, but instead occupied herself in finding as many ways of saying ‘no’ as she could dream up. ‘You are held by your contract and I will not release you. This running after Pedro is a foolish errand and you know it. Your reputation will be ruined if the island audiences discover you’ve gone off on your own to search for a former slave. And the Peabody Theatrical Ensemble will suffer without you. You must be mad even to contemplate such a step.’
Hetty, standing behind her mother, nodded furiously, no doubt scared stiff that my departure would thrust her back on stage.
‘I take it that you are refusing to let me go?’ I glanced at the other members of the cast gathered around us. As I expected, I found scant support among them. Jim, Douglas the trumpeter and the other musicians were huddled together in a group around the music stands, frowning; Bert the stage manager had his arms crossed, his expression grim. My fellow actors were looking horror-struck as they anticipated the changes my departure would entail. I knew that I was putting them all to great inconvenience by my untimely decision to bow out. ‘Even if I promise to rejoin you at the earliest opportunity?’
Mrs Peabody gave a curt shake of her head. ‘Even so.’
‘Then I will have to leave without your permission, Mrs Peabody. I apologize for letting you all down, but my first loyalty is to my friend.’
‘But, Cat, it’s too dangerous!’ Georgie exclaimed, laying her hand on my arm.
I shrugged. ‘I’m no stranger to taking risks. I truly am sorry to abandon you all like this,’ I said, turning to the assembled company, ‘but I hope you’ll forgive me.’
‘I will pursue you for breach of contract, Miss Royal,’ thundered Mrs Peabody.
I took a deep breath. I’d feared as much. ‘It is your right. If I do not rejoin you on the tour, I can be reached care of the Duke of Avon in London.’
‘If you go, there is no coming back, Miss Royal. I’ll make it my business to ensure that you never find employment on the stage again! I am not without friends both here and in London.’
That was going too far. I stepped closer and lowered my voice so it reached her ears alone. ‘If you do stoop to such a low revenge, Mrs Peabody, I will make sure it is known that you were more familiar with the wardrobe than the stage when at Drury Lane.’
Her face blanched. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I think you know.’ It wasn’t in my nature to threaten another but she was forcing me to it. And I had long since guessed that she had never trod the boards herself. I would have to earn my living one day and it was not fair for her to spoil my best chance.
She pressed her lips together, holding her temper barely in check. My own was not in a safe condition either. I felt rather like a coachman trying to restrain a team of six fresh post horses from bolting down the rutted road. If either of us let go of the reins, we would say things we would later regret. A true coach smash of a row.
I silently counted to ten. ‘Mrs Peabody, I really am sorry but I have no choice in this matter.’ I looked round the circle of familiar faces; they had started to become a kind of family for me. I knew I fitted in here. I hadn’t felt that way since leaving Drury Lane; it was a real wrench to give it all up. ‘I like being part of this troupe, Mrs Peabody, but I love Pedro like a brother and he must come first. Please try and understand that.’
‘I should have you locked up in an asylum, Miss Royal.’ Mrs Peabody slapped her script closed, but I thought I saw a brief glimmer of sympathy in her eyes and her threat did not sound very convincing.
‘Perhaps you should have,’ I agreed. ‘I don’t want to be doing this, really I don’t. I’d much rather come to Antigua.’
‘But your heart won’t let you.’ She bit her bottom lip and put her hand to her forehead wearily. ‘I do understand, I suppose.’ Businesslike again, she threw her prompt copy on to a box. ‘We can’t do As You Like It without you. We’ll have to rehearse Romeo and Juliet. Miss Atkins, get learning your part!’ She waved the actors away with an irritable flick of her wrist. I thought I too had been dismissed but Mrs Peabody now swung back to me. ‘The Duke of Avon to whom you referred, Miss Royal . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘What is your connection to him?’
‘He owes me one.’ After all, Reader, the duke had once tried to see me hanged, had been saved from prison thanks to my bright idea to get his wife to sing, and his nephew had had me press-ganged.
‘Then I suggest you warn him that I will be applying to him for compensation if you are unable to pay up. Pin money to him, no doubt, but to keep this ensemble afloat I need every penny.’
‘I’m sure he will be only too pleased to oblige, Mrs Peabody. His son, the Earl of Arden, is one of Pedro’s closest friends.’
From the hum of satisfaction at this announcement, Mrs Peabody was clearly impressed by my aristocratic connections. I could see that her mind was jumping ahead to deal with the new situation and she rapidly formulated a plan to survive my defection. A new play and money from a duke: that should do the trick. I admired her spirit: it wasn’t easy to last as a theatrical manager and she was doing an excellent job of protecting the interests of her own people. Even if her acting past was a fabrication, she deserved to be rewarded with success.
‘I hope the rest of the tour goes well,’ I said, with genuine regret that I would not share in it.
‘Thank you. I wish you luck, Miss Royal. You will need it.’ She half-turned to go, but then paused, weighing her words. ‘Actually, if you do have a chance to rejoin us, I hope you will take it. After Antigua we head for Barbados. We’ll stay there until the end of August, hoping to return to Philadelphia before the start of the hurricane season.’
I nodded. ‘Thank you. I hope that I can settle this matter speedily. I would like nothing better than to act with your troupe again.’
‘We’ll see.’ She bent towards me, her tone confidential. ‘If you return to London, please give my regards to Mrs Reid. Tell her Dotty Peabody sends her love.’
I laughed softly as
she swept off to begin the preparations for the new production. Mrs Reid, wardrobe mistress at Drury Lane, an intimate of Mrs Peabody: my guess as to her past had been spot on.
After my final performance in The Recruiting Officer, I retired to our chamber to pack my few belongings, not feeling I deserved to participate in the cast party marking the end of our Kingston stay. The troupe was sailing on Monday and I still had no idea how exactly I was to find a smuggler named Tivern somewhere on the seas between here and San Domingo, nor how I was to persuade him to tell me what he had done with Pedro. There was also the problem of Jenny. I couldn’t leave her behind after promising to secure her freedom, but neither did I feel it my place to take her into danger. I toyed with the idea of asking Georgie to look after her, but that seemed a shabby way of dealing with them both, offloading the problem rather than facing up to my responsibilities.
In the end it was Jenny who settled the matter. She returned to the chamber shortly after me and placed her small bag next to my valise.
‘When do we leave, missis?’
I felt a lump in my throat at her display of loyalty. ‘Jenny, you don’t have to come with me.’
‘Me know. You kind missis, not want make Jenny sad. But me want to help you. Missis Georgie go to Antigua. Who look after Missis Cat now?’
The prospect of having Jenny along to keep me company was very tempting, but still . . .
‘You know what I’m going to do, don’t you?’
‘Yes, missis. Go on fool errand to find your friend.’ She gave me a big grin. ‘Me like dat about you.’
I gave a half-laugh, half-groan. ‘Yes, it is a fool’s errand and, to be honest with you, I’d prefer not to face it alone. If you’re sure you want to come, then take the day off tomorrow to say goodbye to Moses. Tell him I promise I’ll do my utmost to bring you back in one piece.’
She clapped her hands. ‘Good. Me thought you make more fuss about Jenny coming.’
‘You know me so well already, Jenny? I would have, but I’m too relieved to protest.’
When Georgie returned from the party, looking tired but happy, she tried to talk me out of going after Pedro but her heart wasn’t in it: she knew I’d made up my mind.
She watched me in the mirror as I played maid once more, taking out her hairpins. ‘I’ll miss you, Cat. We’ve only been together for a short time but already I feel as if I’ve known you forever. When you catch up with Pedro, tell him I’m furious that he’s lured you away like this.’
‘I’ll tell him – after I’ve bent his ear on my own behalf.’
Leaning forward, she rummaged in a little sandalwood jewellery box on the table and took out a coral bracelet. ‘Here, have this with my love.’
I had nothing to give in return. I kissed her on the cheek and slid the bracelet on my wrist, admiring the warm apricot colour of the beads against the pale skin of my arm. ‘Thank you, Georgie: it’s lovely. I’ve had so few things to call my own that with this and my necklace I’m beginning to feel quite the proper lady.’
I paused. ‘Georgie, one word of advice before we part: if you’re supping with the devil, use a long spoon.’
She laughed at my serious tone. ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘Keep your distance from Captain Bonaventure. He’s a scoundrel.’
Georgie blushed prettily. ‘All the most interesting men are. I could say the same to you about your old friend Billy Shepherd. But don’t worry, Cat, I’ve got his measure. He’s not the man to turn my head.’ She bent a little closer. ‘I’ve been dying to tell you: Jim has asked permission to court me.’
How could I have been so blind? All the juicy gossip was happening right beneath my nose and I hadn’t noticed, thanks to my preoccupation with Pedro. ‘Georgie, that’s wonderful!’ I exclaimed. ‘When did this happen?’
‘That afternoon when you went off with Moses. We spent a lot of time together.’
I grinned. ‘Of course you did. I’m so pleased. I knew someone would snap you up before too long.’
‘He says his folks are quite liberal-minded about . . . well, you know . . . my unfortunate ancestry.’
Hackles raised by that comment, it was all I could do not to growl like an irate watchdog. ‘I hope he didn’t say any such thing! He doesn’t deserve you if he did.’
‘He didn’t say it – I did. I’m a realist, you know – not like you with your fanciful notions of equality.’ She patted my arm affectionately.
‘Do you feel any less my equal then just because you have mixed blood and I, as far as I know, am all white?’ My question was a challenge. I put my chin on her shoulder so she could see us side by side in the mirror, green eyes looking into brown.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Now you come to mention it, no.’
I straightened up. ‘And do you think you are inferior to Jim?’
Her smile took on a dreamy quality. ‘He is rather wonderful, but no, I don’t. He makes me feel like a princess.’
‘Then I don’t see why my notions, as you call them, should be fanciful.’ I began tidying up the dressing table.
‘But, Cat, our world doesn’t work that way. You only have to look out the window to see that.’
‘It’s about time it did work my way then.’
Georgie got up and pulled me into a hug. ‘That’s what I love about you, Cat Royal, always spoiling to take on all comers, setting the world to rights. Don’t you ever give up!’
SCENE 3 – YOUR SERVANT, SIR
The following morning my offer to help strike the set with the rest of the troupe was politely turned down. By my own choice, I had cut myself off from them and this was the result. Never one to duck the consequences of my own choices, I tried to accept this with good humour but it was hard, particularly when I watched Georgie set out on Jim’s arm, both laughing and chatting happily.
Jenny had left for the plantation early: it was a long walk to her father’s hut on Billy’s estate and she wanted to be back before nightfall. This left me on my own in Kingston for the first time. I took stock of my resources. I had a reasonable sum – enough to buy passage to San Domingo for two, I guessed, but not much beyond that. Shoving the money deep into my pocket, I promised myself that I would only worry about the next step when and if I discovered Pedro. The biggest difficulty would be finding a vessel heading in the right direction. From what the customs official had said, relations between the two countries were more or less severed due to the turmoil in San Domingo. It would be tricky getting a captain to admit he was sailing there and even Billy seemed not to have suceeded as he’d sent no word that he’d found me passage.
My thoughts touched briefly on the Medici. Would Captain Bonaventure go out of his way to help me? Probably not. What if Billy interceded for me? Maybe. But that meant asking him for yet another favour and I already owed him for ferreting out the information about the smugglers. The one hard learned rule in my life is never be in debt to Billy Shepherd and it looked as if I was about to break it again.
Deciding I might as well not put off this unpleasant task any longer, I directed my steps to the harbourside. The glare of the sun on the water was dazzling and I soon regretted not carrying my parasol. According to Georgie, the Medici was now moored out in the bay and I would need a boatman to take me out if I was to make my request. Being much shorter than everyone else and the only unaccompanied white female in sight, I felt conspicuous mingling with the sailors and stevedores who swarmed all over the harbour, but fortunately no one showed any interest in my presence. I skirted round the edge of a crowd gathered in a dusty market place. I was almost through when I glimpsed what they had come to buy: a line of wretched-looking slaves chained close to an auctioneer’s block. My legs wanted to run away as fast as I could but I forced myself to watch. I felt I owed it to those who suffered, people like Pedro, Jenny and Moses; I had to know the worst.
There was nothing particularly special about the auction: no cracking whips or demonic buyers frothing at the mout
h. The crowd looked little different from what one would expect to see at Smithfield for a cattle market. A ring of smartly dressed men stood close to the salesman. Most were decently but not splendidly attired, so I guessed these were overseers rather than the planters themselves. Probably few slave owners sullied themselves with the dirty business of standing in the heat and dust to buy slaves. One man stood out as an exception: I recognized Mr Hawkins near the front. I remembered him telling me that he prided himself on his ability to spot a good worker on the block; this was one part of his duties he had not delegated. Knowing the delight he took in humiliating others, he probably enjoyed it too much to give up.
The auctioneer flourished his arm towards the platform. He was dressed in black and had a neat white stock at his throat, every inch the efficient businessman. ‘Gentlemen, I bring you the next salt-water negro up for sale: a fine boy only a little worn due to excessive sea-sickness on the passage from Africa. Given decent food for a few days, he’ll be as fit as a fiddle and work like a horse.’
An emaciated boy of my own age was prodded on to the block. He stood straight and proud, even though his limbs were stick-thin, barely adequate to hold him up. Sea-sickness all my eye! The boy had been starved. He ignored the auctioneer, betraying no emotion as his finer points – good teeth, wide-set shoulders – were displayed to the onlookers. I was riveted to my spot at the edge of the crowd, watching him dig deep into a stoic endurance that I could barely imagine.
‘Thirty pounds. Any advance on thirty?’ asked the auctioneer. ‘Mr Hawkins, are you in the market for a boy today?’
Hawkins shook his head. ‘No, sir. I’ve boys enough at present.’
That was a relief.
‘Very well. Thirty it is.’
This was obscene. I wanted to scream ‘Stop!’, outbid the last buyer and set every slave free, but the brutal truth was that I didn’t have the money for even one. Instead I had to watch the boy’s future being sold.
‘Going once, going twice.’ The salesman slapped down his gavel on a wooden block on the trestle table beside him. ‘Sold to Mr Beamish. A bargain for you, sir.’