Chapter 4.

The year 1721

“As Jacob with travel was weary one day,
At night on a stone for a pillow he lay,
He saw in a vision a ladder so high,
That its foot was on earth, and its top in the sky…”

The monotone voices of the parishioners filled the chapel that day. It was the first time in Margaret’s nineteen years that she had ever paid so much attention to the hymn as they sang it or to the dull message as the parson spoke it. It seemed a relief to rest her mind on that instead of the memories that would not leave her. The scream of the little boy, flesh burning, sounded again and again. Yet, she was still very ignorant to think that was bad. In comparison with some injuries sustained during the sugar processing, the boy’s was mild. But Margaret could not know this.

As they left the chapel, Margaret let the words of the hymn run over and over again. Somehow she hoped they would cover the feelings of fear and awakening that struggled to the surface. There were so many questions now.

“I am sorry grandfather. What did you say?”

“I only said that we are promised to visit the Bienvenue estate tomorrow. We will have to drive up to town.”

Margaret nodded and removed her hat pin and bonnet. A few loose brown curls fell in front of her face.

“Andr-” Mr. Bertram coughed, “Sir Bienvenue has expressed his desire that you, and I of course, should meet his mother and sisters.”

Margaret finally pushed her thoughts away and looked at her grandfather, “And,” she looked at her hands, “How long shall we be staying there?”

“Well, the harvest is nearly over and Mendez has assured me that my services are not needed for the moment. I think it safe to say we will spend at least a fortnight in their company,” he paused, “I do expect you to try your best to make a favorable impression upon the family Margaret.”

“It would be unfortunate for a mother not to have a favorable impression of the woman her son intends to marry,” Margaret let bitterness seep into the words.

“That is exactly the kind of comment that will not be acceptable my dear. It is my duty to find you a suitable match, and your duty to accept when and if Sir Bienvenue makes clear his intentions.”

Margaret tried not to scowl at her reflection as the carriage turned onto the drive that led through the Bertram holdings. Her grandfather had been speaking more and more of marriage. She was not looking forward to it. She knew, one day, she would have to marry, but many rich women stayed single for years longer than their poorer counterparts. Margaret had hoped there would be at least a few years of freedom left in her future. Now that her view of the world was being so vastly reshaped she hoped for more than a few.

“We will of course have to find an errand boy to come with us,” her grandfather was still blathering on, “But now that the harvest is almost over there is bound to be at least one slave that they can do without. Mendez surely cannot argue with me over such a paltry thing as that…”

“Grandfather, I know of one who can come,” Margaret volunteered suddenly, “There was a slave who helped me the other day and he seemed most obliging,” she didn’t think twice about the lie, if she could do something to help that little boy miss a day of bending over the hot liquid, she would. “He’s a young one to be sure, but he’ll do an admirable job I have no doubt.”

Mr. Bertram looked at his granddaughter curiously, “Yes, well, I am sure that will work out nicely,” he raised an eyebrow, “We will need one other to help with-”

“I know just the one for that as well,” her tone was unusually excited.

“Well then,” he puttered, happy to not have to argue with her over the trip, “I will just leave it to you to discuss the matter with Mendez. You surely know a bit more about what will be appropriate I daresay.” It crossed his mind to ask how his granddaughter had become so familiar with the slaves but he left the question. It was far more pleasant to not be involved in a lengthy argument about going in the first place. Ever since she had turned fifteen she’d been asking more questions that he couldn’t answer. If he could avoid that, they had a pleasant, albeit silent relationship.

The carriage pulled up the front drive of the mansion and Margaret could see Adora waiting on the steps. The young girl stepped lightly out as soon as the horses stopped. Her nursemaid hurried over a scolding expression on her face.

“Your hat child,” she clucked and looked up at the sky, “The sun’s been out for hours just waiting to cast the red shadow on your face.”

Margaret planted the offending object on her head with one hand and held it in place for the couple yards she walked to the house. She was too excited to argue. For once in her life her grandfather had yielded to her. True, he hadn’t known how important a thing she asked of him, but just the same she had gotten her way. Margaret felt exhilarated and relieved. The partial scream echoed in her mind again. However much she hoped this charitable act would drown out the guilt she felt it never could. Things had changed the moment she had stepped outside her door…and they would never stop.

“Mendez, yes, we’ll be leaving tomorrow and I need two slaves to accompany us. Now no arguments,” she could hear her grandfather speaking as he entered the house with the overseer in tow. “Margaret’s taken it into her head that she has the two perfect candidates,” there was a pause and Margaret stopped on the stairs for the call she knew would come.

“Margaret?”

“Yes grandpapa,” she answered back as sweetly as she could.

“My dear, what are their names?” her grandfather came to the foot of the stairs with Mr. Mendez standing close behind.

“Well one is called Alejo I believe,” she batted her eyelashes for extra effect, all the while hoping and praying that there would be no hitch in her plans, “And the other was a little boy. You might recall him Mr. Mendez,” her tone meant more to him than to her grandfather. If Mr. Bertram found out that she had almost been hurt under his watch there would be the devil to pay, “The little boy who-”

“Yes, that one Miss,” he replied quickly with a sideways glance at the old man. Margaret could tell he was trying his hardest to make a decision, “I suppose I could spare them both since harvest is almost done.”

“Thank you Mr. Mendez,” she said with a delicate curtsey, “I will go pack immediately grandfather.”

“Of course,” her grandfather answered. He was so confused by her changing moods, “Of course, you go do that and Mendez will see about the other business.”

Margaret skipped up the stairs and burst into her room humming “Jacob’s Ladder”. Suddenly it seemed like a very nice song.

The next day, the trunks were loaded early in the morning. Margaret stood outside, discreetly changing her weight from foot to foot to wear off the nervous energy. Finally Mr. Mendez came up from the side of the house with Alejo and a small boy following. Margaret squinted, trying to determine whether it really was the same boy or not. She was worried that Mendez would pull any younger child out without a care if it was the one she requested or not. He didn’t know how much she needed to see that boy, how much she needed to know that he wasn’t spending every day in danger. If Mr. Mendez had known, he wouldn’t have allowed either slave to leave that day.

As it was, they found themselves driving away from their home and out into other parts of the island for the first time in their lives. Both Alejo and José had been born on the plantation and had never seen the world outside. José almost didn’t mind the rough and tumble ride on the top of the carriage. He looked to one side and then the other, his dark eyes taking in the shorn fields as they passed by, the forested bits, the flash and glimpse of water. Some hours later he was still excited but less exuberant. He found himself leaning on the arm of Alejo unintentionally and drifting into a doze that never quite reached a sleep.

Alejo looked down at the young boy who rested his dark head on Alejo’s dark, muscular arm. Most of the children were scared of him. Even in the slave shanties, Alejo was a sort of outcast. His parents were dead and he had no family. He had always been the quiet sort and had never made any friends. He knew that this boy was an orphan too, but he was different. Alejo knew that José lived with a widow woman who took good care of him. The boy talked to others and even played with others on the very rare occasions that they had a chance.

Alejo looked at the sky and prayed for the journey to end soon. The ride was rattling his brain and making his joints feel numb. Inside the carriage, Margaret was praying for a different thing. Now that she had gotten her way with the slaves she was dreading actually arriving at the Bienvenue’s. She knew that her grandfather would take every opportunity to allow her “quality” time with André. Not for her own sake of course, but so that he could have a chance to admire her better. She prayed that he would hate what he saw. Margaret did not want to be married.

André held his hand out to help Margaret step down from the carriage. He knew he could have left the task to someone else, but he wanted to make a good impression on her. It would be considerably pleasanter if she liked him, it would smooth out the whole process…or so he thought. Mr. Bienvenue was an intelligent tradesman but he did not think outside of his own area of expertise very often. Therefore he was very apt to treat this new challenge like a business transaction. He had yet to realize that young ladies are not at all like shipments of sugar.

“Ms. Bertram,” his English was made more charming by his Portuguese accent, “What a pleasure it is to have you with us.”

Margaret curtsied, “The pleasure is ours of course,” she used her free hand to wipe at her hair and replace her hat. The Bienvenue estate was close to the docks, but had enough grounds to prevent the noises of town to be too distressing. There looked to be one large terrace on the second floor that would give a good view of the ocean. They walked to the main doors of the house as the carriage carried on towards the stables. Margaret cast a last glance at the two slaves that went with it and smiled.

They were quickly introduced to André’s mother, an elderly, stately woman and to his two sisters. The older seemed to be about Margaret’s age and had inherited none of her mother’s good looks. She had a stern look on her face that did not abate as she greeted their guests. The younger sister was a good deal prettier, but also seemed far sillier. Margaret tried to attribute her prattle to her young age…but it was still rather annoying. It was safe to say, that by the time Margaret and her father were shown to their quarters, she was extremely relieved.

As she lay down to rest, with Adora still arranging clothes, she hoped that Alejo and the boy had been fed. She was content to think that anything here had to be better than working on the plantation.

AN: Slowness...but next chapter has Cutler and Jack, hooray! Thanks for all the great reviews, keep 'em coming!