Calypso's Island

Chapter 6 - SUNSET OBEAH

Trinidad

August 1812

At sunset when my journey begins

We're in our bedroom behind closed doors. The mosquitoes are singing and the shadows are long and dense against the walls. The evening lamps and candles have just been lit and dinner is being brought in and laid out on the table downstairs.

He has his fingers curled around my bouffant and he's digging into my scalp and tightening his grip. He's forcing my neck backward and scowling at me with clenched teeth. I grab on to his wrist with both hands to lessen the pain but he takes that as an affront and throws me to the floor and spits on me.

But I'm determined not to cry or scream. He might be an animal but I'm still a lady. And there's just one thing I need to know from him.

"Pourquoi Monsieur? Why do this when I've told you? The letter came today. She's ill and I need to visit her. You would deny me that sir?"

His boot comes down against my chest and it becomes hard to breathe but my ears work just fine. I hear him shouting above me.

"This is folly! You're abandoning me Angelique! First you lose my child in that slack womb of yours and now you're running away like a base little quasheeba of the fields. How dare you run away from me? How dare you shame me? You should be at my side woman. You should be in my bed doing your utmost to give me a son. Instead you chose to run off to your mother's house after all I've given you!"

He removes the boot and starts pacing the floor. He is a gaged beast now. He's flinging his fists at nothing. I sit up and rub the sore place above my breasts where his foot fell.

"Run away Monsieur? You should know more about that than I for you are an interloper in this land. This island used to belong to the Spaniards and then Chacon refused to fight for it. He even refused help from Guadeloupe. So now? This country belongs to England. And so how did you come to be here Frenchman? Didn't you and your many Royalists friends run away from the French Revolution to this island more than 20 years ago? Oui?

And if you are convinced that I am trying to get away from you then you may show me your proof. Because what I see before me is a man who commands the riches of land and sugar yet cannot survive one night without his wife. Had I known you were so fragile I might not have chosen to be your lady."

He calms his tantrum and pauses to think on my statement. I use the opportunity to stand and straighten my dress.

"One night you say Madame? Perhaps it is a misunderstanding then."

"Tonight and whenever she has need of me. She is dying sir, and she is not aware that her grandchild is dead. A civil gentleman would allow his wife to enlighten and console her. Do I have your leave to depart?"

"Oui. But be quick before I reconsider."

No other warning is necessary. I chose a white hooded cloak to cover a dress that flows wide from beneath my breasts and is free of adornments. Lace and ribbons are useless where I'm going and only Tibby, Granny and myself know the truth of it.

Tibby helps me pack a coarse burlap sack containing cooked salted provisions, fruit and wine skins full of water. She hides it under the seat of Mr. Witmoore's coach when he rides in but he doesn't find that suspicious.

Only my plain rough cotton-spun dress and cloak makes his eye tinker. He twirls at his grey mustache and tips his top hat in response. He is confused. He has seen me don the loveliest outfits to enter the city and never this drab costume. But he says nothing. Perhaps he would rather bite his tongue or assume that I'm in mourning for the child that came but never was.