He thought her eyes turned deep purple. Slowly she shook her head. "No," she said.
Joshua looked at her closely. "You wouldn't enter a convent, would you?" he asked anxiously.
"No," said Lucie. "But I do not marry George!"
"You'll change your mind when you get back home," Joshua said.
She said, "You decide everything for me!"
"Damn it," said Joshua. "Shall I let you decide, then?"
"Oui."
"All right," he said angrily. "Decide."
She turned away from him. "I must think," she whispered. "But most of all, I must pick my own man." She put her hand on his arm; she looked up into his eyes. "Madam did."
Joshua removed her hand from his arm. "Look, Lucie, I have no business fooling around with you; you're in my care. I'm going to take you home with me and find you a good husband. And that's that." He picked up the swordstick he had laid down on the bed. "Now, you may decide what you wish. We sail tomorrow."
He went to the door and opened it—was just about to turn and say once more to be ready at twelve, but instead he bumped into de Bouille. Both men apologized hastily. Then they looked at each other.
They both said their names at once. Then de Bouille bowed, and
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announced he had a message for Mademoiselle Lucie. Joshua was about to go on, when he decided he had better stay. He followed de Bouille back into the room, as de Bouille handed the note to Lucie.
"Captain Barney gave it to me," he said. "I believe I've heard Barney mention you are one of his very good friends. I, too." He smiled.
Lucie was reading rapidly. She looked up from the letter. "Captain Barney says, sir, that I am to go to madam tomorrow and bring her things! And stay with her!"'
There was deep silence. De Bouille looked from one to the other a5 both Joshua and Lucie faced each other. Finally Joshua said, "You may pack madam's things. You may pack your own. You're going to sail with me, and go back home! That is final! Come on, sir." He strode to the door, and de Bouille followed him. He followed him down the long hall, and outside. Once there, de Bouille permitted himself to smile.
"Would you care to ride down to Lower Town with me? I thought—a little dinner, a little wine?"
Joshua grinned. "I've been looking forward to a free day for some time, sir. I'd be glad to go."
Chapter 26
DOUGLASS WAKENED SLOWLY. HALF AWAKE, SHE REACHED OUT with her foot toward the other side of the bed. She felt nothing but smooth linen.
She sighed. "Barney," she whispered.
There was no answer. She turned on her side, opening her eyes. He was not there. But she was suddenly conscious of rapid footsteps. Quickly she rolled over and buried her head in the pillow.
The door opened gently. She waited. But the steps went past the bed and to the windows; she heard the sound of the blinds being raised. She sat up.
Brilliant sunshine flooded the room. A small Negress turned from the windows; as Douglass regarded her she made a small curtsey. "I am Esther, madam," she announced. "It is after one o'clock."
"Oh," said Douglass. Her hair fell over her bare shoulders. "One
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o'clock?" she repeated. "Oh, you should have wakened me before! Suppose—" she looked at the white door— "suppose he had come?"
Esther smiled. "He will not come yet, madam. Captain Barney left a message he would be back at two."
Douglass heaved a sigh. Then she smiled back at Esther tentatively. She said, "What do I—" she paused. "First I would like a dish of tea, Esther."
"Yes, madam." They were both silent for a minute. Douglass looked helplessly at her; she felt that Esther knew more about what she should do next. Then she recovered herself. "Will you fetch me hot water, Esther? And hand me a big towel, please."
Esther complied, getting the towel from the washstand drawer. Douglass wrapped it around herself and stood up. "I'll wait on the balcony for my tea," she said.
"Yes, madam." Esther disappeared. Left alone, Douglass crossed the room, and went out on the small stone balcony that overlooked the sea.
The sun glittered on the rolling expanse of blue water. The island of Saba rose from it, green and rocky, with its white rim of breaking surf. There was no harbor at all on Saba. Last night it had loomed up dark out of the sea. Last night . . .
She drew a deep breath. The wind blew her disheveled curls. The sudden sound of the door again made her stand bolt upright.
But it was Esther, with the tea. She set it down on the little table; Douglass herself sat gingerly on the edge of the chaise longue and held the towel with one hand and the cup of tea in the other.
It was hot. But she drank it hastily, gulping it down. Through the open doors to the bedroom she could see a big Negress helping Esther with the preparations for her bath. They laid a grass mat down first, and then put the tub on it. Douglass went back into the bedroom.
By the time she had pinned her hair up on her head the bath was ready. Douglass closed her eyes while Esther soaped her back. But when she had stepped out of the tub, and had finished drying herself on the big towel, she looked at Esther helplessly again.
Esther came to the rescue. "I washed and pressed your petticoat and underthings, madam."
Douglass donned them hastily. But her hair was still unbrushed and—"I cannot wear that ballgown," she announced. It was only two o'clock.
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She was sitting at the table, while Esther took the pins out of her hair. She began to brush it. She said, over Douglass' head, "There is a robe, madam. When I finish your hair I will get it."
Douglass nodded. "Pin that part up loosely, and let the back curls go." She surveyed it when it was done. It met her approval. Esther held the lacy robe up for inspection.
Douglass put her arms in it and looked at it. She made a slow decision. "I don't think I'll wear it," she said. "I am dressed enough. I am all covered up," she added.
"Yes, madam," Esther said. The big Negress returned and helped take the bath things away. Douglass went out on the balcony again, and sat down on the chaise longue. She sat there for five minutes, stiffly, when she suddenly and determinedly eased over onto the pillows and propped herself up. She had just finished getting settled when she heard Barney's steps. She turned.
He was standing about ten feet away in the doorway. He had paused to take in the picture of her lying there; then he came toward her.
She was lying in the center of the chaise. He came to a stop beside it. "Good afternoon, Douglass," he said.
"Good afternoon," Douglass said.
Barney grinned. "I'm not going to eat you, wench. Your eves are as big as stars." He laughed, and sat down on the edge of the chaise. Then he said, "Move over, darling."
She hesitated. Barney looked a little puzzled, and a little amused. Douglass moved slightly, and Barney stretched out beside her and took her in his arms, tipping her face up to his, "What's the matter, sweetheart?" he asked. He looked into her eyes. He kissed her lips. When he released them he buried his head on the curve of her throat. "What's the matter?" he murmured.
She held him tight. "Nothing."
"Tell me," he said.
"I love you, Barney," she whispered.
He raised his head, and kissed the tip of her nose.
She leaned back. "But why did you leave me?"
He smiled slowly. "So that is the matter?" He pushed her back against the pillows with his hands on her shoulders. "It was an action born of strict necessity—my leaving. I had to attend an auction." He was looking down at her face as he spoke, his fingers in the thick curl on her shoulder.