Silence fell as she named the plantation and the wheels clicked into place in the heads of her listeners.
“Yes, you’re all thinking the same thing. I wasn’t the only one to notice Ionie. The Master also noticed her. He took a fancy to her and married her. She had yet to turn sixteen. By then we had declared our affections, but no matter what I said, or hinted or asked, his mind was made up.” Giles reached for her hand.
“I was wed against my wishes, but like Giles, my words and protestations had no effect. In Jamaica, the master’s word is law.” She sighed. “I was actually lucky.”
“Lucky?” exploded Gwyneth. “How can that be?”
“He could have just taken me to his bed,” replied Ionie practically. “That’s what most of the masters did. They took any slave they wanted. Raped them, sometimes kept them as mistresses, and occasionally married them. We were the lucky ones. We survived.”
“My God.” Royce shook his head. “Giles, you must have been beside yourself.”
“I was indeed. I had to leave. Not only was my time up, but the Master didn’t want me there anymore, since his new wife looked at me more often than him.”
“Neither of us had a choice. So we parted,” continued Ionie. “I did my best to be a good wife. I bore him two fine sons. I worked to keep the plantation slaves as healthy as possible, and that helped during some of the more unpleasant uprisings that occurred now and again. Well-fed slaves are less likely to kill their masters.”
Gwyneth shivered. Ionie was so calm when speaking of such things. And yet those eyes…they were speaking as well. If only she could understand their messages.
“We kept in touch. We wrote. Ionie had received some minimal education, enough for her to be a house slave, and after her marriage she made a point of learning everything she could.”
“I can even play the piano, the harp, and some guitar, although the latter was not as welcomed at plantation events.”
Evan gazed at her. “You are truly amazing.”
“I agree,” said Giles fondly. “Anyway, as you may have surmised, Ionie’s husband recently passed away.”
Gwyneth mentally slapped herself for not noticing the widow’s garb. The neatly cut black spencer topping a dark grey travelling gown was both practical and suitable, yet the woman’s looks would always draw the eye, not what she wore.
“My sympathies,” she said, correctly.
“Thank you.” Ionie smiled, teeth flashing white in the lovely face. “He suffered some kind of seizure and died within hours. It was very very hot that day, but he would persist in visiting the stables. A new filly had arrived and he was quite eager to try her out.”
“I’m surprised he would ride in such heat. Would it not have been better to wait until after the sun set?”
Both Giles and Ionie looked at Jeremy. “Not that kind of filly, Jeremy,” said Giles.
“Oh.”
Silence fell, and this time Gwyneth couldn’t think of a single thing to say to break it.
It was left to Ionie to finish their story. “As soon as he passed, and the arrangements settled, I told my sons I was leaving. They knew of my dear friend in England with whom I communicated regularly. They have their own families now and will run the plantation themselves. I had no fears or worries about leaving them to live their own lives.” She sighed. “All I could think of was that I was free at last. And that Giles awaited me. As he has done for so long.”
“I got her letter a short while ago. The day you got the blackmail note, my Lady.”
“Oh. Oh, I see.” She nodded, her mind scrambling to keep up. “So you’re here.”
“Er yes.” Ionie blinked.
Giles cleared his throat. “It is my intention to wed Ionie. It has been my intention for a quarter of a century. I think I know my own mind by now.” He grinned down at her. “This is my future wife.”
Yet another stunned silence fell. Gwyneth wondered how many more shocks her heart would withstand.
“So,” Giles looked around, “since nobody has anything to say, I will also add that Ionie and I will be leaving this afternoon. Our first stop will be in London—a long trip but a necessary one. We’ll then drive on to my family’s home just outside Ware. We’ll marry there and after our honeymoon, I will let you know where we will be settling.”
Gwyneth leaned back against the couch cushions and put her hands over her eyes. “I can’t stand anymore shocks. Would someone either stab me again and put me out of my misery or hand me a large brandy?”
Royce rose, as the others made their sentiments known in similar ways. He walked to the drinks table, poured Gwyneth her brandy and took it across the room. “Here you are, my Lady.” She took it with a nod of thanks and downed nearly half, coughing a little and holding her side so as not to disturb the bandages.
“Yesterday evening,” said Royce into the continued silence, “Giles honoured me by informing me of his plans to leave. He did not, by the way, mention anything about Madam Ionie here.” He cocked a finger at Giles in disapproval. “However, he asked me a very important question, to which I answered in the affirmative.” He took a breath. “As of today, I am now the butler at Wolfbridge Manor.”
“Oh my God,” said Jeremy. “You’re the new Giles.”
*~~*~~*
It seemed to Gwyneth that scarcely a minute had passed since Giles’s stunning announcement and the loading of his baggage into the travelling carriage. He had packed all he needed for the present, he told Jeremy. The rest
