Moonwitch (23 page)

Soberly, Selena took in the sight of the wretched wooden buildings and rowdy, hard-faced humanity. As the
Washington
neared the landing, she caught her breath; from the mired earth rose a stinking odor of squalor and musk and decay. She scarcely noticed the blast of steam from the
Washington’s
boiler, for her attention was absorbed by a raucous brawl between two flatboatmen dressed in linsey-woolsey and drab cloth trousers. They were belching and swaying and wielding murderous knives as they tumbled each other in the muck of the landing.

Selena eyed the fighting with dismay. “This is Natchez?” she said faintly, realizing the ugly mud town was to be her new home.

“I
t isn’t as bad as it looks,” Kyle said quickly, seeing Selena’s shocked expression. “I mean, it is—but this is the worst part. The real town is atop the bluffs. This is Natchez-Under-the-Hill.”

“I shouldn’t like to come here at night,” Selena managed in a weak voice as she watched a bevy of scantily clad females spill from one of the taverns a short distance up the nearest street.

“No,” Kyle murmured in a wry undertone. “I shouldn’t think you would.”

They waited until the
Washington
had moored at the landing and the gangway was set before descending the stairs and bidding farewell to Captain Shreve. As they disembarked, however, Selena skeptically eyed the muddy ground at the end of the plank. Her low-heeled slippers would no doubt sink ankle-deep in the reddish muck.

Gritting her teeth, she protectively raised the hem of her gown, preparing to wade through the mess. But before she could take a step, Kyle startled her by scooping her up into his arms. While she clung to him with one hand, awkwardly dangling Horatio’s cage from the other, he strode across the landing, his gleaming top boots making short work of the mud.

“
Will
you put me down?” Selena whispered angrily, as he negotiated the throngs of people and merchandise. “This is quite unseemly.”

Kyle glanced down at her, the rugged planes of his face creasing in a grin. “Now there you’re mistaken, Moonwitch. None of the riffraff here would notice if I decided to dance naked in the street. Although,” he amended, “they would no doubt watch
you.”

His grin widened at the high color in her cheeks, but he didn’t release her. Instead, he carried her all the way to the livery stables, where carriages and drays were for hire. He stopped short, though, as a bearded, greasy-haired man came reeling out of the stables to block their path. Kyle recognized him as one of the many fur trappers who came to trade hides in Natchez-Under-the-Hill. With straw clinging to his grimy buckskin trousers and fringed shirt, the man looked and smelled as if he had spent the night sobering up in a stall.

“Well, stap my vitals, if it ain’t Kyle Ramsey!”

Selena stared at the unkempt trapper, drawing back involuntarily as she caught a whiff of his powerful odor.

“Beaver Joe,” Kyle said tersely, reluctant to acknowledge the acquaintance with Selena there.

Swaying, Beaver Joe gave Kyle a black-toothed grin. “I wager Angel’ll be mighty pleased to see you. Heard her talkin’ ’bout you jest last week.”

Kyle stiffened, even more reluctant to have Selena learn about Angel Abbey, who ran one of the higher class bordellos on Silver Street. He started to pass by, but the trapper peered drunkenly at Selena.

“That a new gal yer bringin’ in? She’s a might scrawny. I dunno if Angel’ll want ‘er.”

“Why don’t you keep your tongue between your teeth,” Kyle suggested menacingly, feeling his own cheeks redden. “This ‘gal’ is my
wife.”

The coarse trapper’s mouth dropped open. Kyle brushed past him, ignoring his shocked look—and trying as well not to notice Selena’s thoughtful scrutiny.

He hired a horse and carriage, and when he had deposited Selena and her parrot in the vehicle and arranged for their trunks to be delivered to the plantation, he climbed into the driver’s seat and urged the horse up the steep street. On one side was a precipice; on the other, hugging the bluff, were the shops, barrooms, taverns, gambling houses, slave dealers’ sheds and brothels of notorious Natchez-Under, as it was called by the river men.

Selena observed it all in wide-eyed silence, until they came to a two-story establishment that looked more prosperous than the others. Then she quickly averted her embarrassed gaze. A half-dozen women in various stages of undress lounged against the iron railing of the gallery, beneath a huge wooden sign with the words Heaven’s Gate emblazoned in red paint.

As the carriage passed, Selena couldn’t help but hear the trilling voice that floated down the street.

“Angel, ain’t that Kyle with that fancy bit o’ muslin?”

Hearing the name, Selena glanced up with a start.

The woman who must have owned it leaned out from the shaded gallery to get a better view. She was built in voluptuous, curving proportions and sported, Selena noted with a sinking heart, a high sweep of flaming red hair.

Kyle muttered an oath under his breath and, without so much as a glance, slapped the reins on the horse’s rump and propelled the animal into a brisk trot. His jaw was set tightly, and there was a deep flush under his tan.

The tips of his ears were shading to red, as well, Selena thought, observing him with a sideways glance. “Are there any more?” she asked, grateful that she managed to sound calm.

“More?” His tone was wary.

“Red-haired women in your past?”

He didn’t reply, but his ears turned a darker shade. Selena decided she wouldn’t care for the answer. She didn’t protest when he cleared his throat and began telling her about the town that crowned the bluff, how it had grown from an Indian village to a French fort, then an English, a Spanish and finally an American possession.

Natchez was laid out in squares, its tranquil streets flanked by chinaberry trees and magnolias, its gracious, galleried houses and numerous shops festooned with climbing jasmine. Selena was relieved to see such a stark contrast with the squalor below. The upper town’s inhabitants appeared far more prosperous, as well; frequently they passed gentlemen mounted on blooded horses and elegantly dressed ladies driving gigs or riding in well-appointed carriages. Trying to forget that some of those ladies might be intimately acquainted with her husband, Selena decided she would simply have to make the best of her situation while attempting to build a life with Kyle.

Shortly, they left the town behind by way of a narrow, deep-cut road and plunged into a forest of verdant growth.

“Is your plantation near here?” she asked, recollecting that she knew nothing about Kyle’s home.

“A few miles.”

“What is it like?”

“Montrose?” Kyle shrugged. “Like any other place, I suppose. It’s big.”

Selena mentally shook her head. If she had been asking about a ship, Kyle would have been able to describe it down to the last shroud and belaying pin.

Rather than taking him to task, though, she settled back to enjoy the ride. The enormous cedars and water oak rising from a tangle of creepers and vines of wild grape gave the feel of being in a deep tunnel—cool and fragrant with the scents of pine and damp earth.

Eventually the woods gave way to fields of cotton. Following the slow lift and fall of the land with her gaze, Selena could see acre upon acre of young plants that were just beginning to flower. It was different than sugarcane, but the bounty of the land made her feel almost at home.

And when some time later Kyle pointed to the crest of a hill and identified the sprawling plantation in the distant clearing as Montrose, Selena was conscious of a deep sense of pleasure. The two-story manor house stood among towering, moss-draped live oaks, its white stucco gleaming in the sunlight. The grace was evident even from so far away.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed.

Kyle gave her an odd look. “I’m glad you like it,” he answered softly, and she thought he sounded genuinely pleased.

Meeting his gaze, seeing the reflective, almost tender, glimmer of amber light in his hazel eyes, Selena wondered wistfully if they might one day have a true home together. She was disappointed when Kyle looked away as if discomfited by his momentary lapse into intimacy. He seemed reluctant to allow any closeness between them or to divulge anything of himself.

“Do your sisters live at Montrose?” Selena questioned, wanting to draw Kyle out.

His lips curved in a wry smile. “Yes, all four of them.” Yet despite the persecuted note in his voice, there was no mistaking the real tenderness in his expression. It was obvious he loved his sisters.

“Who did you say was the eldest?”

“Bea—short for Beatrice. She’s married to one of our state legislators. When our parents died, she and Thaddeus moved into Montrose to take care of the girls and keep the plantation up, but Bea’s expecting her first child soon, and she wants to return to her own home in Natchez in time for the birth.”

“That is why you are returning to Montrose? To assume responsibility for your sisters?”

“Someone must. The girls aren’t old enough to fend for themselves yet. Lydia just turned sixteen, and Zoe, while mature for her age, is only fourteen. Felicity is ten.”

“It’s very noble of you,” Selena said softly, “to give up your life at sea for them.”

Kyle shrugged, as if unwilling to take credit for making a grand sacrifice when he’d had little choice in the matter. But when he lapsed into silence, Selena realized he must be reflecting on how drastically different his new life would be. Not for the first time, she resolved to aid him in making the transition as smooth and painless as possible.

Of course it would help if she could win over his sisters, but for now she would settle for simple acceptance. Kyle was bringing home a stranger, and she was more than a little worried about how the Ramsey girls would react to their brother’s sudden marriage. As the carriage neared the plantation, Selena, too, fell silent, wondering what to expect.

They followed a sweeping gravel drive past a shaded lawn and came to a halt before the manor house. Montrose was even lovelier up close, Selena discovered. Fronted by dozens of yellow rose bushes and flanked by magnificent magnolias, it was a harmonious combination of English and French Creole architecture. Beneath a sloping roof, a gallery ran the width of the building, with a broad, cool veranda below that. Delicate iron ornamentation and slender pillars accented the white facade, making the house appear light and airy. Indeed, the entire effect was one of beauty and quiet dignity.

The afternoon was peaceful, as well—heavy with the perfume of blossoms and the drone of bees. Kyle had no sooner descended from the carriage, however, than the peace was shattered by a joyous shriek from within the house. Next, the heavy front door was thrown open, and Selena was startled to see a yellow blur dash across the veranda, skirts flying, and fling herself into Kyle’s arms. Felicity, Selena surmised, catching a glimpse of a bright, happy face beneath a mop of brown curls.

The child’s delighted laughter mingled with Kyle’s as he held her high in the air and whirled her round and round. And when he had done, she gave another breathless cry.

“Bea! Zoe! Come quick! Kyle’s here! Put me down, Kyle, do. I’m quite grown up now, and you mustn’t treat a lady so.”

“A lady, is it, pumpkin? And here I thought only hoydens screeched like fishwives and allowed their ankles to be seen by gentlemen.”

“You’re not a gentleman,” she replied to his teasing as he restored her to her feet. “You’re my brother.”

Kyle laughed and mussed her hair, doing considerable damage to the yellow ribbon that was threaded through her chestnut curls. But Felicity only grinned adoringly up at him, the freckles that dusted her youthful face standing out vividly against her creamy skin. She would be a beauty one day, Selena thought, observing their warm reunion.

Not so the tall woman who appeared on the veranda. Her plain but lively features resembled Kyle’s somewhat, but her hair color was a drab brown like a wren’s. She looked to be in her late twenties, and her serviceable gray gown draped a sturdy figure that was swollen with child.

With a glad smile, she hurried down the steps and gave Kyle a fierce hug.

“Lord, don’t choke me, Bea!” he complained, but his cheeks were creased in a grin as he held her at arm’s length and surveyed her plump figure. “You’re looking well.”

“Ha, I resemble nothing so much a turnip!” Bea replied good-naturedly. “But bless you for saying so. I’m glad to have you home.”

The love in her voice was discernible, even from a distance; it was clear that Kyle and his sisters enjoyed a warm family relationship of a kind Selena had not known for many years. Even the gangly young girl who hung back in the shadows seemed delighted to see him, for when Kyle said “Hello, Zoe” in an infinitely gentle tone, she moved into his embrace without hesitation.

“Welcome home, Kyle,” she murmured shyly, standing on tiptoe to plant a swift kiss on his bronzed cheek before burying her nose in his chest.

Watching them together, Selena found herself envious of the obvious, easy affection between Kyle and his sisters. She wished she knew how to gain it herself. Instead, she sat tensely on the carriage seat, waiting to be noticed.

Ten-year-old Felicity was the first to glance Selena’s way. “Who’s that?” she piped up, once more gainsaying her claim of being a young lady.

“Felicity!” Bea exclaimed. “Where are your manners?”

Nevertheless, Selena felt several pairs of brown eyes scrutinizing her curiously. She was grateful when Kyle moved to stand beside the carriage. Yet he took a long time to answer, clearing his throat first before saying, “This is Selena Markham… Ramsey…my wife.”

There was a stunned silence while all three sisters stared at her, openmouthed.

“Your wife?” Bea echoed, recovering first. “You are
married
?”

Selena felt her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Yet to her amazement, a delighted smile dawned on Bea’s plain face before she turned to scold her brother. “Kyle, you wretch! Why didn’t you say so at once?” Instantly, Bea strode forward to clasp both Selena’s hands in a warm gesture of greeting. “Hello, my dear, I’m Beatrice. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to welcome you to Montrose. I despaired of Kyle ever finding a bride—certainly one as lovely as you. Mercy, you must think us atrociously lacking in manners. Please do forgive us. It’s just that we haven’t seen Kyle in quite some time.”