Page 35 of The Irish Gypsy
Kitty's life was not pleasant, but she wasdeterminedly cheerful, looking forward to her Sundays as a chanceto rest and play, doggedly getting through the rest of the week,doing her job as best she could.
By the time her seventeenth birthday hadpassed she realized that the notion of the mating of men and womenhad become less traumatic for her. For nearly two years she hadlived in an atmosphere where sexual relations were open and naturaland accepted by all. It was hard to even think of such a thing asromance.
Another winter passed, but not without takingits toll. Kitty was far too thin, with eyes almost too large forher face. Her figure, which at one time had been very nicelyrounded, almost disappeared. Her breasts became so small sheconsidered padding her bodice, and her bottom became narrow andflat. The long hours and poor diet not only had taken the glow fromher skin and the sheen from her hair, but also had robbed her ofthat sparkling vitality she always had in abundance. Her wit washoned and her tongue sharpened, but she became so physicallyweakened that often she was dizzy.
Chapter 10
Patrick had a strong desire to find Kittyafter his father's death. He questioned Mrs. Thomson and the otherservants, but they could not or would not furnish him with anydetails that might lead to her whereabouts. As Patrick had no ideathat Kitty and Terrance had relatives in Bolton, the pair seemed tohave vanished into thin air. Perhaps they had gone to another town,or back to London, or even returned to Ireland. At last he began torealize that if she cared for him at all she would not have lefthim without a trace. He didn't blame her; he blamed himself. Whathe had done to her was unpardonable. Eventually he stoppedsearching every crowd for a glimpse of her beautiful face. He feltthat if she wanted to be free of him, the least he could do wasleave her in peace.
Her image still lingered in his memory, andif he did not keep himself busy every hour of the day, she cameback again and again to haunt him. Sometimes in bed, the dark roomwould be filled with that unique fragrance that always lingeredabout her hair--a mixture of wild roses and peat smoke; then hewould curse himself for a fool. If only he hadn't ravished her, buttaken her gently, awakening her desire and giving her pleasure andrapture with his touch.
He put the mills up for sale, as hedefinitely had decided to sail for America on his merchant vessel'snext voyage. He sold the Egyptian for a very large sum, but offerson the other two mills didn't meet his expectations, so he decidedto keep them until he got his price. Patrick had noted that thebest cotton they received from the Carolinas had been marked'Bagatelle Plantation," and he intended to journey there and buy upthe whole crop if possible. He threw himself into arranging thecargo and was impatient at the amount of time this consumed. Atlength he was free to depart for Liverpool to see the various goodsloaded and make final arrangements before departure.
Patrick found that he loved the sea. Hewelcomed the needed change. The air was invigorating and themale-oriented environment of the ship was rough and ready and madepossible an easy camaraderie that he fell in with comfortably. Whenthey made harbor in Charleston, Patrick discovered that vesselsfrom England were eagerly awaited, and the goods he had broughtwere snapped up quickly for fantastic prices.
He had written to Monsieur LeCoq at BagatellePlantation, telling him of his proposed visit, and he carried aninvitation in his pocket that the LeCoqs had extended to him. Hebought a carriage and horses to convey him, and when he arrived atBagatelle he was amazed at its size and opulence. This was not the'trifle' that its name indicated. The plantation must have coveredten thousand acres. There were endless rows of slave cabins andhundreds of slaves. The magnificent Georgian mansion set in vastformal gardens took his breath away. He drove his carriage up thelong, circular driveway; half a dozen slaves waited to take care ofhis horses when he stopped. The house was white with an upstairsgallery that swept across the whole front of the building. Thelawns were like jade velvet, with each shrub trimmed to perfection.Patrick counted over a dozen gardeners plying their trade. Aliveried majordomo complete with powdered wig opened the door toPatrick. He handed his calling card to the servant, who placed iton a silver salver and disappeared up a magnificent wide staircase.The female house servants were dressed in striped cotton dresseswith bright cotton tignons covering their hair. Quite a numberappeared in the short space of time Patrick was kept waiting, andhe realized it was out of curiosity to get a good look at him.
Suddenly a female appeared at the top of thestaircase. She was the most striking woman Patrick had ever beheld.She was a Juno, statuesque, almost as tall as himself. ATitian-haired beauty with a slightly hooked nose, whom Patrickthought bore a striking resemblance to Elizabeth I. Their eyes metin mutual amusement as each acknowledged the other's criticalinspection. He stared at her magnificent breasts, well displayed inthe low-necked black gown, and her sensual mouth. She stared at thethick saddle muscles of his thighs, unconcealed by the tighttrousers, and her glance lingered on the bulge of his crotch, whichwas satisfyingly large even in his unaroused state. She spoke upthen; her voice was low, with an attractive French accent.
"Jacquine LeCoq, Monsieur O'Reilly."
"I've been looking forward to meeting you,madame, and your husband, Monsieur LeCoq, who extended mesuch a gracious invitation."
"My husband, Monsieur O'Reilly, was laid torest two month ago." She paused dramatically.
The knowledge somehow didn't surprise him,perhaps because she had given the immediate impression of being incommand. He murmured his condolences, but he had known as soon asshe imparted the news of the death, that she was not sorry. Hewondered why.Freedom? Money? Power? Yes, definitely power!he thought.
"You must call me Jacquine,monsieur.Let us move to a sitting room on the shady side of the house, andlet me offer you a cool drink."
The tall glass of Bourbon filled with crushedice was delicious to Patrick's parched throat. "Your home is verybeautiful, Jacquine, but I must admit I am having difficultyadjusting to the climate."
"It is a trifle humid, Patrick. At this hourof the afternoon any sensible man or woman would be between coolsheets for a rest, no?"
Somehow he was not surprised that she hadbrought up the subject of sex before they had even finished theirfirst drink.
"I find it more than a trifle humid, my dear;it's more like a steam bath."
"That's why our gentlemen wear white suits inthe tropics. Have you nothing lighter you could change into?" shesuggested.
"Alas, madame, where I come from, men'sfashion is black, and I'm afraid I would feel foolish in a whitesuit."
"The English are said to be very set in theirways; however, I must confess I enjoy doing things in the Frenchway," she said as she directed her eyes to his lap. She licked herlips to add emphasis to her words. He stirred and began to enlarge,and the corners of her lips lifted in triumph with the knowledge ofher power.
He said pointedly, "I'm not averse toexperimenting. Are you, Jacquine?"
She smiled and said, "I'll wager you ridewell, Patrick."
"I have stamina. I don't tire easily," hepromised.
"In that case, I shall enjoy mounting you."She paused again for effect. "Tomorrow we will inspect theplantation. We should ride in the morning while some coolnesslingers, then we can rest in the afternoon....perhaps?"
He bowed. "I am at your service, my dearlady."
She summoned an elderly black man. "Titus,show Monsieur O'Reilly to the front guest room and tend to hisneeds."
Titus ran a bath for Patrick and laid outfresh underwear and a white frilled shirt on the bed. While Patrickbathed, his suit was taken away to be brushed and pressed. Patrickhad always been used to having money, but he had never seen it solavishly spent. He estimated that house, kitchens and garden mustemploy over fifty servants. The rooms were filled with the mostexquisite and expensive furniture Europe had to offer. Thechandeliers were breathtaking, the drinking glasses were the finestlead crystal. He had no doubts now what would bring top prices whenhe shipped his next cargo.
Dinner that evening was probably the mostdelicious Patrick had ever eaten. It was French cuisine at itsfinest. A delicate bisque, crab quiche, shrimp coquilles, coq auvin surrounded by delicately flavored mounds of plantation-grownrice. Everything was served on the most ornate Georgian silverdishes and Sèvres china. The two of them were served by six slaves,albeit unobtrusively.
