Master Of Paradise (6 page)

Nicholas had only to voice a desire and Samuel took over and brought the desire to fruition. Nick remarked that he preferred living in a house rather than a hotel room, so Samuel took him on a small walking tour to show him some houses that were being offered for rent.

They walked up Savage, a street that ran off on an angle from Tradd Street. Nicholas found the houses on Tradd so much to his liking that he was hard put to choose one. They passed the quaint Sword Gate Inn, which was number 111, and number 75 was a big three-story house with stables. Then Nicholas saw the one he wanted: Number 26 Tradd Street. It was a little pastel pink house set back from the others. The cobblestone street led up to three brick steps and an exquisite miniature garden with a ceramic cat climbing the garden wall. The house was tall and narrow with a tiny balcony on the second floor surrounded by iron railings.

Samuel haggled the rent, explaining that such negotiations were beneath the dignity of his master, who was a great English Lord.

"Samuel, my father was an English Lord, but I am not. Must you exaggerate?"

"Ah must, Masta Nick. Thass the way it's done." They exchanged conspiratorial grins and moved into the house. All was accomplished on credit. Not one red cent had been expended.

Samuel advised him where to conduct all his business, took him to the best tailor, and told him which bank to use. He never tired of offering Nicholas his sage advice. "Masta Nick, ah have observed in dis life that success depends entirely upon attitude. Start out as y'all mean to carry on. Ma formula is based purely on 'as if'. Act 'as if' y'all owned the world, an' someday, y'all will."

Nicholas was vastly amused and agreed with most of the things Samuel said. "My tastes are simple, Samuel; I'm always satisfied with the best."

"Masta Nick, thass the attitude, egzactly!"

Nicholas made no secret of the fact that he wanted land; as much as he could beg, borrow or steal, and with land actually going for as much as fifty dollars an acre in some areas, it was time to break out the peacocks.

The banker, Gabriel DuBose, a small Frenchman with delicate features, was immediately taken with the Oriental birds, and declared it would be tantamount to sacrilege to melt the birds down for their gold bullion. He assured his new client that given a few days he would be able to secure a buyer who would be willing to pay a price at least triple their bullion value.

Samuel stood behind his master, holding the art pieces with more arrogance than an emperor.

Nicholas agreed to let DuBose hold onto the peacocks in exchange for a receipt for their total weight. Each bird weighed slightly more than twenty pounds, so his receipt was for six hundred and fifty ounces of gold on deposit.

As usual, Samuel's advice on where best to buy land proved correct. They would follow the River Ashley inland and buy somewhere between Charleston and the Capital of Columbia. Nicholas realized that the land would be much cheaper if it needed clearing or draining. He would need men and mules to clear the land and get in a crop for this year.
From now on, when I gamble, I will only wager for mules or slaves.

When Nick received word from DuBose that he had a buyer willing to pay twenty-five thousand dollars for the peacocks, he did not hesitate. Possibly he could have held out for more, but to Nicholas time was money and less a decent commission for the bank, he had received thrice their worth in bullion. He closed his eyes and silently thanked his brother Philip.
Someday I will return the favor.

The next day Nicholas packed a mule and he and Samuel set out to find the chosen place.

Chapter Three

Amanda Virginia Jackson awoke the moment the first rays of sunshine filtered through her closed jalousies. She cautiously opened golden eyes and curbed her impatience to jump from bed and fling herself into the plans she had made for the morning. She knew one false move and all her fine plans would be crushed by the heavy hand of Mammy Lou who could almost see what went on clear inside Amanda's head, in her private, secret space. It was a constant game of cat and mouse to keep just one small step ahead of Mammy Lou.

Amanda's long black lashes that framed the unusual golden eyes swept down to her cheeks as she closed her eyes and feigned sleep the moment she heard the unmistakable tread of the old servant. She smelled the hot chocolate and freshly baked biscuits, along with the delicious aroma of cured ham, and her mouth watered in anticipation. She was aware that her young appetite was occasionally larger than was proper for a delicate and refined Southern girl.

Slowly, slowly, she opened sleep-heavy eyelids and yawned wide. "Oh Mammy, I'm so fatigued, I declare I could sleep for a month of Sundays."

"Y'all fatigued? What yo' think ol' Mammy is? Ah spent two whole hours pickin' de burs from yore hair, Miz Mandy, an' then ah had to use Miz Jenny's best face cream to finish de job. An' then ah had to wash an' dry yore hair before y'all could go to bed!"

Amanda gave an enormous yawn.

"Ah had to burn dat dress o' yores. Second one yo' ruined dis week." Mammy was only just warming up, but when Amanda looked truly repentant, her big soft heart relented instantly. "Honey chile, yo' just curl up an' go back to sleep. But remember next picnic yo' can't go runnin' off into de swamp with the other childrens. Yo' thirteen years old now, chile. Yo' got to start actin' like a lady. Yo' be de death o' yore sweet mother one o' dese days!"

Amanda Virginia felt a painful pang of guilt that was genuine at mention of her mother. Caroline Jackson was an invalid who had to be carried downstairs each afternoon to her chaise-lounge.
Amanda had heard the whispers and knew it had something to do with when she'd been born. She vowed to keep out of trouble, and flung back the bedcovers to devour the breakfast Mammy Lou had left her.

Amanda was not made in the ordinary mold. Her family excused her to friends and neighbors by explaining that she was eccentric. She had a fabulously rich fantasy life, currently peopled by all the gods and goddesses of mythology. She had discovered a book on the subject, abandoned in the attic years before, which had totally captured her imagination.

It had been difficult to decide at first who she would be. The nymph Daphne was most appealing, especially since she was constantly being pursued by the god, Apollo, but she had been saved from his advances by being turned into a laurel, and Mandy didn't like that part. In fact she thought it silly to be turned into a bush.

She finally decided upon Aurora, Goddess of the Dawn. The secret of her great beauty was due to the fact that she bathed in the dew of wood violets. In fact, Aurora had been drenching her naked form in the dew one morning when Apollo came upon her on his golden arrow and fell hopelessly under her spell.
That part about the arrow was obviously a mistake. They must mean his golden steed, named Arrow,
she decided.

The violets were in bloom all over her beloved Paradise Hill, and that was Amanda's destination this morning. She grabbed the first dress that presented itself when she opened her armoire. She was more careful selecting her shoes, and chose black kid slippers, since white would get hopelessly discolored by grass stains. She had no intention of combing the night tangles from her flowing mane of hair, as it took hours and hurt like the devil. The color of her tresses defied description. Some of it was dark, then when the sunlight struck it, red highlights showed up vividly. Other parts were sun streaked, making the whole mass tawny, like the mane of a young lioness. She stroked at it impatiently with her brush a few times, then flung it back over her shoulders without another thought.

She crept out quietly past Jennifer Joy's room. Not much need for worry there; her sister never arose before ten o'clock. Down the hallway was Aunt Billie's apartment. Nothing to fear in that direction either, since she never appeared before noon. Amanda's father would have been up and out for hours, so all she had to worry about was Mammy Lou. She knew the old woman found the stairs heavy going these days and wouldn't torture her bulk by unnecessary exertions, but she had ears that could detect a bed spring, a slippered miss-step on a creaky floorboard, or the hinge-squeak of the back porch door. She was capable of adding these sounds up and coming to the exact conclusion of what Amanda Virginia was up to.

Free at last!
Amanda took in a great gulp of fresh morning air filled with the scent of dogwood and peach blossom and ran like the wind toward the river bottom. The rich fields on this side of the water all stood cultivated, ready for planting. She crossed the stream bed at its shallowest point, using the stepping stones she had used for years. She noticed the water was higher than usual, high enough to wet her slippers and the hem of her gown. Her mood swung higher now that she was on the far side of the river,
her side of the river,
where it was all a tangled wilderness. The mockingbirds were singing their throats out to the warm sun, and the red cardinals flashed their brilliance as they flew among the trees.

The woods were ablaze with wild crab apple blossom, early azaleas, and the white stars of the dogwood. Beneath her feet, the grass was filled with wild flowers and the first jonquils were alive with honeybees, and big wild bumble bees. A cobweb held a million drops of dew, so that it sparkled like a diamond necklace in the early morning sunshine.

Some of this land belonged to Amanda's father, even though it had yet to be cleared. Some of it belonged to the county, but the place known as Paradise Hill was hers, at least in her heart.
It has always been just mine, and it always will be.

She ran on through the stand of tall pines, quite dark in places where the branches blotted out the sunlight. She gasped as a large red-tailed hawk swooped down almost beside her, after a small bird. Mercifully it escaped the hawk's talons and she heaved a great sigh of relief. Then she felt a small pang of pity for the hawk and the hunger that drove it to such destruction.

She emerged into the sunshine and lifted her golden gaze upward to the summit of the hill. As usual, its beauty took her breath away. A tiny waterfall fell down one side, curiously bubbling from a spring only halfway up. The top of Paradise Hill flattened out into a plateau. In actuality it was an escarpment rather than a hill. It was a primeval wilderness with marshland at the foot of the waterfall and beyond the marshland, to the left, lay a swamp, its water black from the thick-rooted cypress that shaded it. A white heron arose with a single cry, and Amanda wondered it it were a prince who had been turned into a heron by an angry goddess.

As she climbed the hill, she noted with satisfaction that the violets were in full bloom, their tiny purple and yellow faces still moist from the heavy dew. She removed her dress, as a token gesture to the naked part of the ritual, and also because Mammy Lou would scold until she drove her mad if she ruined another gown this week. At this moment she felt transformed.
I am Aurora, Goddess of the Dawn.
She poised delicately in her batiste shift, took a deep breath and flung herself down the hillside, rolling over and over through the damp, fragrant violets.

Suddenly a horse screamed in fright and she opened her eyes to find herself amid a flurry of plunging legs, flailing hooves and a rain of profane curses.

Nicholas dismounted in a flash and went on his knees to the girl whom he thought he had killed or at least maimed. He saw a female with wide-set golden eyes framed by sooty lashes, with the wildest mane of tawny hair that fell about her shoulders in untamed abandon. She was golden-skinned, as if kissed by the sun. Miraculously, she was unhurt.

She was such an unusual creature, he almost believed her. "And this, no doubt, is Mount Olympus?" he asked with equal seriousness.

"No," she said, "it is Paradise." She looked into the bronzed face and saw that his eyes were neither blue nor green, but a pale aqua, the exact shade of robin's eggs. "Are you a mortal?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm afraid I am, and what's more, I suspect you are too.

Fleeting dimples appeared and vanished instantly, so that he found himself watching for their reappearance.

"My other name is Amanda Virginia Jackson," she said haughtily. "I was Aurora, bathing naked in the dew of the violets, but of course my pantalets were as close to naked as I dared."

Nick smiled his delight. She was a captivating creature, past being a little girl, yet not quite a young lady. She was a child-woman and he was enchanted. Her face and eyes were so expressive when she spoke, yet her thoughts flitting about behind her golden eyes lent an aura of mystery that was seductive.

Nicholas hid a grin as Samuel rode into view. "You'd better put your dress on. This isn't the secluded sylvan glade you thought."

There were the dimples again. She scampered back up the hill, agile as a fawn, and Nicholas led his horse up to the top of the escarpment so he could see the view.

"Tabernac! Tabernac!" swore Amanda, her head caught in the armhole of her dress.

"Hey, stop that cursing," Nicholas admonished as he assisted her into her dress.