Chapter 25: Waiting for a trial

“How long before the baby is due?” I ask Angelique.

I’ve delayed asking the question until now as she has been very reluctant to offer any information about herself. However, she seems more settled in my company now that we are in Saint Pierre.

“Another six weeks as far as I can tell. Guillaume promised to come for me when he returns from France, but that slimy toad of a merchant sold me to a plantation owner instead of looking after me.”

“Why has he gone to France?” I ask.

“He didn’t say. We spent the last few years making and selling the scented concoction that you’ve got on your side table. It was becoming very popular along the east coast. But the wagon we used fell apart, and Guillaume couldn’t afford to replace it. So he left me with that merchant and promised to return when he had more money.”

I don’t state the obvious possibility. I’m sure Angelique has already considered that Guillaume has simply abandoned her. The merchant clearly believed that Guillaume won’t be returning, and that Angelique was his for the taking.

“So what is this concoction you make?” I ask, curious about the pleasant substance.

“It can be made in several forms,” replies Angelique. “The one you have there is a body oil, but there are other versions that can be used as cheaper alternatives to the expensive scents imported from France.”

“You make this from local products, or do you need to import some of the ingredients?” I ask.

“Everything is locally produced. I use oils from palms and bananas, and different combinations of tropical fruits and sugar.”

My mind starts working overtime at the business opportunities Angelique’s skills could provide her. Far from being another ex-slave struggling to make ends meet, she could have a very promising future. Perhaps a better future than my immediate prospects seem to hold.

Edward Pickering arrives in Saint Pierre three days later. Mama and I spend the next day telling him what we know and asking for his advice.

“I’ll be honest,” says Edward the following day. “The court is likely to support Henri Thibert’s claim to ownership of Andrea. We’ve no proof that Jacqueline didn’t give birth to twins and that the adopted boy died soon after. After all, isn’t that exactly what happened with Fleur when Madame Brigitte adopted Randolph, but not Angelique ... only Randolph is still alive, of course.”

“This is just an attempt by Henri to disgrace my good name,” fumes Brigitte. “He has no real interest in owning Andrea.”

“What about the entry recording my birth in the plantation’s slave register?” I ask. “That entry was clearly made at a much later date by somebody else.”

“Without seeing the register, I can’t speculate on what that might mean,” replies Edward. “Unfortunately the entries recording the birth and adoption of a boy are not disputed, so it won’t solve the problem entirely. At best, the court will likely rule that your adoption by Madame Brigitte was invalid. You will almost certainly lose all legal rights to her protection. Fortunately you are only a few years from your twenty-fifth birthday when all that will become academic.”

“And what of the publicity?” muses Mama. “Can this be handled discreetly?”

“Umm. Not once we lodge our written defence with the court. Then everything becomes a matter of public record. There were already rumours circulating in Fort Royal before I left. You know how a juicy social scandal circulates in certain circles.”

I admire Edward’s bravery in saying that to Mama. We both know that Mama and her cronies are one of the prime sources of vicious gossip in Fort Royal, and throughout Martinique.