Chapter Text
The day Alma turned sixteen was a festive affair.
The celebration was her grandmother’s idea. Turning sixteen was a momentous occasion for a young woman, according to the Widow Allamby. It deserved to be marked. Besides, she said, the Allamby’s had relatives visiting from Jamaica who would be delighted to see Alma and Louis. They had come such a long way to get to Barbados; wouldn’t a party be a wonderful way to send them home?
Mary had been suspicious of her mother’s motives, despite the older widow’s declared good intentions. Celebrating birthdays was as uncommon in Barbados as it was anywhere else in the Empire. Their family had never held a party for one before – why would they start now? But Widow Allamby coaxed and pleaded until Alma’s mother finally relented. And thus, the Bonnets were tasked with hosting a gathering in Alma’s honor.
Alma was excited. She adored parties, and not just because Mary allowed her to drink a glass of heavily watered wine at the events. Dressing in her finest clothes and mingling with her family and friends was fun, but what Alma really loved was listening to the conversations. Business, foreign wars, travel: The guests discussed so many topics that Alma was not normally privy to. They knew so much about the wider world, and it was fascinating.
She always tried to make her interest obvious so that those exciting individuals would talk to her as well. Most adults were tolerant of her curiosity, or even amused by it. They would compliment her turn of phrase or comment on her evident maturity and sophistication. Alma preened under their admiration, to her mother’s despair. But Alma could tell Mary was proud beneath the affected disapproval, so she didn’t let the subtle reprimands bother her too much.
Plus, the strangers still treated Louis like a child, and they never talked to him the same way they spoke with her. Alma loved her brother, but she was a little smug about that, too.
The week leading up to the party was hectic. Mary spent every day running back and forth between the Bonnet estate and different vendors in town. The house needed cleaning, and they needed to purchase a large amount of food on short notice. Doug volunteered to supervise the cleaning efforts, and Alma got drafted into taking care of her siblings.
Louis had outgrown his best suit since their last celebration, so their mother ordered Alma to drag him to the tailor and get it altered again. Louis hated fittings, so Alma had to trick him into going by offering to take him to the baker. Her brother squirmed so much during the measurements that it took all afternoon for the tailor to complete his work. By the time they left, both Alma and Louis were irritable, and they spent the whole walk home in silence.
Tiffany was the only one amused by the experience. She’d happily buried herself in scrap fabric during their interminable ordeal, and she pointed excitedly at every animal they passed in the streets. Alma was still upset with Louis, but neither of them were immune to their younger sister’s cheer. By the time they made it to the house, Louis was back to swinging Tiffany through the air while the little girl squealed with joy. Alma laughed at their antics and shouted encouragement.
She didn’t know how it was possible for the toddler to be easier to look after than her idiot brother, but she was glad. At least Tiffany’s clothes still fit. Alma tried to imagine taking both siblings in for alterations and shuddered. Their sister was a sweetheart, but she didn’t like being manhandled and had no qualms about making her displeasure known. Small blessings, indeed.
As the party drew closer, the preparations neared completion. Long tables covered in lacy white cloth were set up beneath gauzy tents on the lawn. Servants floated around the house carrying boxes of French wine and wheels of English cheese to their final resting place. An entire roast pig was set onto the dining room table with two servants assigned to carve it. Mary had even ordered a tray of lemon cakes for dessert.
Alma was especially excited about the cakes. Honestly, she was looking forward to eating them almost as much as she was the party itself. Not that she would ever admit to such a thing, of course. But maybe she could put her uncles’ ‘training’ to good use and pilfer a few before the guests arrived. They were her favorites, after all. What her mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, Alma decided as she positioned herself to stake out the desserts.
It had been a while since she’d run a heist. She could use the practice.
The celebration was everything Alma could have hoped for. The food was delicious, the wine was sweet, and the conversations were plentiful. She spent her time floating between groups and listening to them talk attentively. The guests gladly invited her into their discussions, offering the girl brilliant smiles and admiring words. Alma ate it up: She humbly accepted their congratulations on her auspicious new age and smiled back.
It was a wonderful time.
About two hours into the gathering, Alma’s grandmother pulled her aside. The Widow Allamby led her to a quiet corner of the yard, away from most of the guests. Her Aunt Josephine was already there, along with a woman Alma remembered being introduced as one of her cousins from Port Royal. She was confused about why the three women had called her over, but she held her tongue and greeted them politely.
“Congratulations, dear. My, you look lovely in that dress,” Aunt Josephine clucked, kissing Alma on her cheek.
“Congratulations, indeed. Sixteen is a fabulous age,” Grandmother Allamby murmured, “Why, I still remember my sixteenth birthday like it was yesterday. It was so exciting to finally be an adult.”
“Yes, I agree,’ said the cousin. Alma thought her name might be Sarah, but she wasn’t sure. “Your grandmother has been telling me all about you. So mature, even as a child! And now look at you: A beautiful young woman in your own right.”
“Thank you,” Alma replied demurely, her chest swelling with pride.
Grandmother Allamby chuckled, “Such a humble young lady, too. That will take you far in life!” The old woman smiled approvingly, “And now that you’re a young woman, we’ve put something special together for you.”
“My dear, you’re going to love it! It’s such a lovely surprise,” Aunt Josephine added.
“Oh! What is it?” Alma asked.
A slight worry nagged at the back of her mind, but it was quickly crushed under the weight of her excitement. She loved surprises, though she had no idea what this one might be. The older women exchanged pleased glances at Alma’s obvious enthusiasm.
Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, “Well, I know how much of a responsible young lady you are. And as a responsible young lady, I know you’ll want to take care of your family. That’s what every proper woman wants to do when she comes of age! So, Josephine and I have had a talk with Sarah, and we think we’ve found you a suitable husband!”
Alma’s heart dropped. “A husband?” She whispered numbly, unable to process what she’d just heard, “That . . . that can’t be right.”
Sarah reached out to clasp Alma’s unresisting hands. “Yes, a husband! You’ll make a beautiful wife for my dear son Thomas: We’re so excited to welcome you to our family! But oh, have you met him yet? He’s such a sweet boy,” she chattered, pointing to a bored looking young man that was slouching against the hedges.
Alma barely glanced in his direction. Her limbs felt like lead. This couldn’t be happening.
“No. No, I – “
“You don’t have to worry about a thing, dear, it’s all been arranged. The two of you will be married tomorrow morning, and then you can go to Port Royal and live with Thomas! Sarah says they live on quite the marvelous estate. Isn’t that wonderful?” Aunt Josephine beamed.
Alma’s pulse hammered in her chest. No. This couldn’t be happening! She wasn’t ready, she may never be ready, and Mary had promised that this wouldn’t happen –
“Mother?” Alma asked timidly.
“What is it, Alma?” Mary replied, smiling down at her fourteen-year-old daughter as they strolled through the garden.
“Did you hear, Elizabeth Bentley is engaged to be married,” Alma said.
“That’s wonderful, dear.”
“Eliza says her father arranged it all when she was twelve, but they’re just getting married now,” Alma continued doggedly.
Mary’s expression fell slightly, “Ah. Yes, a lot of families set up marriages that way,” she commented neutrally.
“That’s what happened for you and father, isn’t it?”
Mary’s expression darkened further. “Yes. You know that already.”
Alma shivered. “Sorry, mother. I just – well, I was wondering – I was wondering if the same thing was going to happen to me?” She trailed off quietly.
Mary stopped and turned to look at the girl. “Do you want it to?” She asked carefully.
“No!” Alma blurted immediately, “No. Please.”
Her mother smiled and cupped a hand around her cheek. “Well, there you have it. I’m not going to force you to marry some stranger if you don’t want to, dear. Stede and I had enough trouble with that for all of us. You can marry someone of your choice – when you’re ready, of course. Don’t go rushing off to find a husband now,” she laughed.
“And . . . what if I’m never ready? To get married?” Alma mumbled.
Mary tilted her head, considering. “Then you never get married,” she said simply.
“Promise?”
Mary pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I promise. It’s your life, Alma. Live it however you like . . . ”
Alma tried to shake the fog of memory from her mind. The older women were watching her expectantly. If she wanted to find a way out of this, she needed to focus.
She gulped a shaky breath, “But – mother said –“
“Don’t worry about your mother,” Widow Allamby sighed irritably, “You’re an adult now. You don’t need her to make your decisions. But you will marry Thomas, won’t you, dear? I know you want to do right by this family. Your union will symbolize a bright new future for all of us! Come, my sweet. Make your grandmother proud,” she coaxed.
Alma felt cold. Her vision tunneled down until all she could see was her grandmother’s face. Her mind flashed wildly to one of her father’s stories. Were the three grinning crones before her the fabled Fates? Did they know they clutched the thread of her life in their gnarled hands, ready to shear it from her control? Alma hysterically wondered if Stede would appreciate the reference. He would certainly understand how she felt.
But that wasn’t relevant right now; her father wasn’t there. She needed to focus, why couldn’t she focus? She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe -
“And what ‘union’ is this?” Came a familiar voice from behind her.
Alma’s panic shattered at the ice in her mother’s tone. Her frozen heart was warmed by Mary’s audible fury, and she felt like she could breathe again. Alma jerked away from the other women and turned around. Her mother was standing a few feet away, a thunderous expression on her face. She had Tiffany balanced on her hip, and the little girl silently observed the unfolding tableaux with grave eyes.
“Mother,” Alma breathed, barely holding back tears of relief.
“Alma, can you take Tiffany to Doug for me? I need to have a word with your grandmother,” Mary ordered firmly.
The older widow scowled, “Mary, be practical. You know why this needs to be done – “
“What I know is that you’re trying to pressure my daughter into an arranged marriage behind my back. Something I explicitly told you not to do!” Mary snapped.
“She needs a husband, and Thomas is a good fit,” Widow Allamby argued, “we wouldn’t have had to go behind your back if you had just done your duty in the first place! I’m only trying to do what’s right.”
“No! This is cruel, and unnecessary, and I will have no part in it!” Mary hissed vehemently.
“Be reasonable, Mary – “
“Alma! Doug, now,” Mary commanded again, eyes locked on the other widow.
Alma took Tiffany from her mother’s arms and scurried away. She looked for Doug among the growing crowd of gawkers and was relieved to see her surrogate father standing near the back. She made a beeline towards him. Her head felt clouded, and tears still burned behind her eyes. God, she’d been so gullible! She should have known what kind of ‘surprise’ her grandmother would offer. Her mother had told her stories often enough. Doug wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and started ushering her into the house.
She felt awful. But Alma had been on the receiving end of her mother’s ire before; no one could match Mary Bonnet when she was enraged. She had no doubt her mother could dispel the Allamby’s plot. Everything would return to normal soon, and there would be no more talk of marriage. It was a comforting thought, as Alma made her escape.
Yes. Her mother would fix this.
The shouting match that ensued after Alma left was the talk of Bridgetown for weeks. Mary didn’t shy away from calling out her mother’s manipulation, even as their argument garnered more attention from her guests. The Widow Allamby refused to back down from her stance and was adamant that she had her granddaughter’s best interests at heart. Alma could hear every word of their dispute from where she had cloistered herself in her room. God, they were being so loud that she could probably have understood what they were saying from half the island away.
The disagreement ended with the older widow leaving in a huff. Alma’s grandmother took Aunt Josephine and the Port Royal cousins with her, warning Mary that she was making a mistake. Mary called her mother a meddlesome old bird and told her not to come back until she’d decided to care about her granddaughter’s wishes. Widow Allamby tersely agreed. Then she slammed the door of her carriage and was gone.
And that was that. The cousins would be leaving for Jamaica in a few days, and her grandmother wouldn’t be back to bring up the matter for some time. Alma grinned, grateful for her mother’s stubbornness and unbreakable will. Everything was going to be fine. She was free.
Or so she thought.
The callers began arriving the next afternoon. They were family friends and distant relatives, and all of them wanted to speak to Alma. Alma reluctantly agreed to see them, too polite to turn her guests away. They simpered and complimented her beauty, her poise, and her wit. They kept their tone pleasant, but their false smiles and gilded words rent through Alma’s sense of peace like grasping claws.
The chats inevitably turned to her plans for the future, and how proud everyone would be when she decided to marry. After all, what young lady wouldn’t be excited to take that next step in her life? Alma ended the conversations rather quickly when they reached that point.
The experience was incredibly frustrating; and she’d thought Louis was the only one who could make her feel such anger. Hah! The universe did love its little jokes.
Two days later and Mary began turning her callers away at the door. Alma was relieved to have a break from discussing her unmarried status. The house was a lot quieter without a gaggle of visitors lurking around, and she felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her chest. She wished she knew how to make them understand why she wouldn’t marry some remote cousin that she’d never met. She wished she could tell them she didn’t know if she was interested in marriage at all.
At least her mother and Doug were supportive of her decision. Alma tried not to think about where she would be if they weren’t.
But being banned from the Bonnet house did not stop people from approaching Alma whenever she went out. Alma hated feeling caged, and she refused to let her tormentors trap her in the house. She went to town nearly every day, trying to be stealthy as she moved around. But she couldn’t avoid notice entirely. As soon as she was spotted, the concerned citizens would descend upon her like hungry vultures. It was enraging.
On one memorable occasion she left home on an errand for Doug and ‘accidentally’ ran into the rector from Aunt Josephine’s parish. The gaunt man cornered her outside the baker’s and lectured about ‘doing her sacred duty before God’ and ‘respecting her family’s wishes.’ It made Alma so angry that she felt close tears. She wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck off, but she knew her mother would disapprove of that sort of behavior. It was tempting, though.
God. Where were the pirates and their indifference to social boundaries when she needed them? They could deal with the stuck-up twat for her, and Mary would be none the wiser.
Well. Probably. Her mother was scarily good at dredging up the truth when she wanted it.
Alma was trapped in the conversation for thirty minutes before Widow Higgins came to her rescue. The intimidating woman scolded the rector sharply for taking up so much of Alma’s time. She dragged the girl out of his clutches and ushered her over to the mortuary. There, the older woman plied her with tea and made no mention of marriage or husbands. Instead, she asked Alma about the books she had been reading and what trouble Tiffany had gotten into of late.
It was a nice distraction. Alma’s heart rate slowed to normal, and she felt almost calm by the time she left. Widow Higgins (call me Evelyn) escorted her back to the Bonnet estate, and no one dared to bother them as they walked. Evelyn popped in for a quick word with Mary once they arrived at the door. Alma didn’t know what they talked about, but from then on, she couldn’t go anywhere without noticing a widow or two lurking nearby.
It was an effective deterrent, but not everyone was concerned about invoking the protective wrath of Mary’s friends. There were still plenty of misguided souls left to bother Alma in town. Her tolerance for their interference decreased rapidly as time wore on. After three more weeks of being waylaid by strangers in increasingly uncomfortable interactions, Alma decided she’d had enough.
She knew what she had to do.
“Mother,” Alma called out, stepping into the dining room.
Mary was sitting at the head of the table, alone. Her head was in her hands as she leaned heavily over the polished wooden surface. A half-finished glass of wine was set in front of her. She didn’t acknowledge her daughter’s presence as she stared listlessly into its burgundy depths.
“Mother!” Alma repeated, walking over to stand beside the distracted woman. She planted her hands on her hips and tried to look confident.
“Hmm? What is it, dear?” Mary muttered to her goblet.
Alma took a deep breath. “Mother, I’m going to Martinique,” she stated firmly.
Mary’s brow furrowed and she finally looked up. “Beg pardon?” she asked, confused.
Alma forced herself not to back down from the weight of her mother’s attention. “I’m going to stay with father and Ed until this mess blows over,” she explained.
Mary’s frown only deepened, “What? I know this experience is tiresome, dear, but you can’t just run off to Martinique. We don’t even know if they’re at the villa right now! And I can’t let you go alone, that’s not – “
Mary paused. She fixed her daughter with a searching look, eyes narrowing. Alma glowered, daring her mother to continue her refusal. Then Mary sighed and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.
“Sometimes, I wish you were less like your father,” she muttered to herself. She shook her head, “Fine. You can go. I know this conversation is more of a formality than a request for permission, and I’d rather send you off with our assistance than without,” Mary continued drily.
Alma had planned on going even without her mother’s approval, but she didn’t understand how Mary could know that. “So . . . you’ll help me get there?” Alma clarified carefully.
Mary nodded, “Of course. You’ll have to wait a few days for us to book you passage on a ship, but we can give you the funds you need to make it to the villa. And you have to promise me that you’ll return as soon as I send for you, alright?”
“Alright,” Alma agreed readily. She grinned, “Thank you, mother. Truly.”
Mary rolled her eyes, “You’re welcome, darling. But are you sure you’ll be okay going alone? It will be a lonely stay if they aren’t home, and I really don’t know when they would come back.”
“I’ll be fine. I can look after myself, and little time alone would be nice right now,” Alma declared.
Her mother snorted, “God. I couldn’t agree more. This development will send your grandmother into a tizzy, I have no doubt. She’ll be banging on our door as soon as you leave port.”
“Let her worry,” Alma spat, “I’m not going to be her pawn.”
Mary raised her eyebrows and smirked, “Well. You’re certainly just as much my daughter as you are Stede’s, aren’t you? Excellent,” she picked up her wine glass and took a thoughtful sip, “Don’t fret about your grandmother, I’ll take care of her. Perhaps this trip of yours could work in our favor . . . “
Alma’s mother stood abruptly, her eye’s sparking. “Go pack your bags; I’m off to find Doug. It looks like you’re going on an adventure!”
Alma beamed and raced to do as she was told. The pirates were at the villa; she could sense it. She was ready to see them again. Alma leapt up the stairs and laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.
This was going to be fun.