Keturah Page 33

  “Do you not see?” Ket asked. “I have all the home I want. At Tabletop. Or your little cottage at Teller’s Landing. What matters is you, Gray. You would make any sort of house my home.”

  “Keturah,” he said, pulling away in agitation, “can you imagine how others would talk of us?”

  “Do they not already talk of us?” she asked with a laugh. Ket shook her head. “Truly, it seems the Misses Banning will forever make people talk. But Gray … our days are not promised to us. Fever or mudslide or hurricane might take either one of us before we ever get the chance to exchange our vows. We must make the most of the days we have whilst we have them. I care not for what society demands. I do not care if you ask Cecil for my hand. The only people you must convince are my sisters, and they are the ones who have compelled me to say this to you today. And I do not care if you are rich or poor, Gray Covington. Whether we live in a hut or a castle, I only know that I want to be with you.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “Am I dreaming?”

  “No,” she said with a shake of her head.

  He huffed a laugh and ran a hand through his messy, matted curls. “Keturah Banning … we always did climb the tree you chose or went swimming when you wished to do so.”

  She smiled with him. “There you have it.”

  It was his turn to pull her hand to his lips, kissing one knuckle after another as he stared into her eyes. “Could it be true? Shall you truly be mine, Keturah? Forever?”

  “Oh, Gray,” she breathed, pulling him closer for a true kiss. “I believe I have always been yours.”

  A month later, Verity grinned as she placed an ivory seashell circlet around Keturah’s head. She had worked on it for a week, carefully drilling holes in each of the shells and sewing them to the crown.

  “Oh, it’s perfect, Ver,” Ket said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “It reminds me of Father, on this day that I’m missing him again.” She wished he were here to witness this day. He’d led her down the aisle to marry Edward, and somehow it would have redeemed that day if he’d been here for this too. Did you know, Father? Did you have any inkling that the man I was marrying was a wretch of a man? Or did you always choose to believe the best in everyone you met?

  She thought that was it. Father had been an optimist. But if he’d had hopes for Edward, how much more might he have had for Gray?

  Gray. Just the thought of him made her smile. I am marrying Gray today. Becoming his wife. The thought did not make her pale in fear. Instead, she blushed with excitement. She pressed a hand to her cheek.

  “What is it?” Selah asked, peeking over her shoulder at Ket’s reflection, even as she continued to use a hook to button the back of her gown.

  “I am … I am simply … happy. So happy,” she said with a grin.

  “As well you should be,” Selah said, grinning back and then resuming her work on the forty buttons.

  As soon as Ket and Gray were engaged, the girls had insisted she purchase the beautiful ivory silk gown in a shop on St. Kitts, despite its steep cost, and Selah had carefully embroidered flowers down the center of the bodice and along the three-quarter sleeves that bunched in luxurious folds at her elbow, then embellished each with seed pearls to catch the light. The U-shaped neckline plunged deeply and was edged with fine lace. The bodice was tight, and at the hip the skirts flared outward.

  Studying herself in the mirror, she noted the deep tan of her arms and neck and face. Her first reaction was condemnation—after all, no lady allowed her skin to become so dark. Edward would have been aghast! But her second quickly followed—that it was perfect for who she was now. And Gray, she knew, reveled in the fact that their skin reflected the work they had put into their land. “I find your skin’s color to be,” he’d said once, looking slowly down her tanned arm as he lifted her hand to kiss it, “most beguiling. Exotic.” Just the thought of that intimacy set her cheeks aflame once more.

  “Ahh, Ket. You’re so beautiful,” Verity said as Selah finished her work.

  “Thank you. I feel beautiful.” Beautiful enough to meet Gray in that church. Beautiful enough to stand by his side. “His love, sisters. His love … and God’s have made me whole again. Whole enough to feel beautiful.”

  They grinned at her for a moment. Then Verity glanced at the hourglass. “Come, ’tis time,” she said. “You cannot leave your groom waiting.”

  Cuffee had hitched up a team to their father’s fine black carriage, now repaired. Gideon and Primus were in the front seat, each dressed in full livery in honor of the day. A wagon behind it carried the rest of their servants from Hartwick, plus Matthew, Mitilda, Abraham, and Sansa. These would be their only wedding guests, as well as Philip. No others had been invited. And they hoped that spying Keturah and her sisters in their finery would be the first hint any islander might have that something like this was about to take place.

  Because she didn’t want any others present. This was her wedding, and Gray’s, and she only wanted those close to her heart there. So far, none but these had found their way closer, which was fine by Ket.

  They made the trip to the edge of Charlestown and pulled down the drive that led to St. Philip’s, a tidy gray-stone Anglican church with teardrop-shaped windows and a white cupola. She stood high on a hill, the sprawling Caribbean Sea beyond her. Outside was parked one lone carriage.

  Gray is already here.

  The others poured out of the wagon behind them and hurried inside. Primus assisted Ket down, and then her sisters. Gideon held the door for them. They walked inside, and the girls turned toward her as Gideon moved to the inner door that opened to the sanctuary.

  “Are you ready, Sissy?” Selah asked, taking her hand.

  Keturah nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “He’s a good man,” Verity said. “The finest. We would not allow this to be transpiring if we did not believe it.”

  Again, Keturah nodded.

  “We shall await you,” Verity said. “Have Gideon open the door when you’re ready to approach.”

  Keturah stepped over to the side so that Gray would not catch a glimpse of her, and her sisters moved inside, Gideon closing the door behind them. She glanced up at her dear friend and servant. He’d made a good recovery from the fever, though he was still a good twenty pounds lighter than he had once been. Still, his presence steadied her. Gideon was home, a part of Hartwick and a part of Tabletop too—her past and her present.

  “Time to embrace my future, Gideon,” she whispered, nodding toward the door.

  “Go with God, Lady Ket,” he said as she swept past him into the sanctuary.

  And as she paused at the end of the aisle, taking in Gray in his fine new clothing, his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, she thought, God has brought me here. I am with God again. And He is with me. No matter what comes, He is with me.

  No man led her down the aisle, because she no longer belonged to any man. And when she placed her hand into Gray’s, she knew it was fully her choice, her will, her hope … and felt God’s pleasure in it.

  “Shall we do this, darling?” he whispered. “Are you truly ready?”

  “One limb at a time?” she whispered back.

  “One limb at a time,” he returned with a grin, settling her hand in the crook of his elbow as they turned to face the priest.

  Historical Notes

  I did quite a bit of research to prepare to write this series and did my best to represent the people of this time well. However, I have made the language a bit more contemporary, because if one reads letters, dialogue, or direct quotes from this era, it feels quite stilted. So for the sake of clarity and flow, I changed it.

  Readers might be surprised at the amount of alcohol my characters drank. Actually grog, mead, hard cider, and the like were often watered down, and it was common practice to drink it instead of water because the alcohol killed the bacteria that often lived in their water sources. Pretty ingenious, really. As to the copious amounts that many sugar
plantation owners drank—well, that’s straight out of my research. It was a hard place, in a hard time, to live. People were just trying to cope, in both good and bad ways.

  To my knowledge, Nevis did not have a mudslide or runaway slave colony on the mountain. I borrowed those elements from St. Kitts’s history. But the threat of a slave revolt was constant throughout the West Indies, which only led to further horrid mistreatment of slaves. Enslaving others was an act of war—it only makes sense that many slaves planned retribution and craved freedom at any cost.

  One source noted that Nevis Peak was practically denuded to the top at one point in history, every acre used for sugar. But if one visits the island today, it’s hard to imagine the very top and between plantations being utilized. I elected to keep a healthy amount of green up top and between plantations because I liked the idea of the jungle, ever-ready to reclaim what was hers.

  Historically, women really did entertain men in their “closets” while in dressing robes, as well as hide away behind bathing machines to swim. The Georgian era was a rather confusing one, mixing both social liberties and conservative ways, especially looking back on it from the vantage point of our modern times. After a lot of reading, I’ve done my best to depict life as I imagined it. A full bibliography for this series can be viewed on my website, www.lisatawnbergren.com.

  Author’s Note

  I know that for some, Keturah’s story might have been challenging to read, especially for those who have suffered abuse. If it proved triggering to you, I’m sorry. I have loved ones who suffered in abusive relationships and made it out, and I thought it an important element to explore in this story to offer others hope too. If you are in an abusive relationship, know that there is hope. God wants you to be loved, and loved well. He does not want to see you hurt. He has good intentions for your future and longs to give you renewed vision and direction. He is your refuge.

  If you need a place to start, check out The Emotionally Destructive Marriage by Leslie Vernick, or visit these websites: thehotline.org; domesticshelters.org; womenagainstabuse.org.

  Acknowledgments

  A big thank you to the research librarians at the Nevis Historical Society; to my editors, Raela Schoenherr, Luke Hinrichs, and Kate Hauge; to four beta readers who gave me feedback about sensitive subject matters in the book—Mahalia Hilts, Jamie Lapeyrolerie, Gianna Greer, and Toni Shiloh; to my family who dealt with me in a fugue state for weeks as I finished this tale; and to all my readers who continue to read my books, wherever I roam in my imagination. I appreciate you all!

  Lisa T. Bergren has published more than fifty books with combined sales exceeding three million copies. She’s the author of the Christy Award-winning Waterfall, RITA-finalist Firestorm, bestselling God Gave Us You, and several historical series such as HOMEWARD and GRAND TOUR. She’s also a recipient of the RT Lifetime Achievement Award. Lisa lives in Colorado with her husband and three teen-and-older children. To learn more, visit www.lisatawnbergren.com.

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