The Sugar Planter's Daughter Read Free Page A

processing factory. Thrown into the deal, a Cox daughter as his wife – me. In this way Lord Smedley was able to wash his hands of this troublesome stain on the family name, and we got – well, we got Clarence.
    He had – and still has – no knowledge of plantation business and no inclination to learn, whereas I have been absorbing the spirit of sugar and the rhythm of its seasons all my life. Learning the business side of it was easy for anyone with a quick brain, even a female. We didn’t really need a Clarence, since I was there – but Papa had never heard of a woman running an estate, and we needed the money, so I suppose it was a good bargain, and we were the winners.
    Ha! That, you see, is how a woman wins. Clarence is my marionette. And with my hat I showed them all who holds the reins in this disgraced family. What with Mama’s abandonment of us, followed by Papa’s prison sentence, followed by this farce of a wedding, with Winnie cut off without a penny to her name – well, the Cox family was mired in scandal. Now, I’ve never cared what people think, never cared about my reputation – I’ll do as I please. But I plan to show them all, those who point fingers at us. I have a plan, a long-term plan. My wedding to Clarence – even before Winnie’s wedding to George came about – is a part of that plan, and the hat was a symbol of it.

3
    Winnie
    Georgetown, August 1912
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    I took George with me to the harbour to meet Mama. He was reluctant to go.
    â€˜It’s your mother,’ he objected. ‘Why would you drag me along on such a momentous occasion? She will want to see you alone, or you and Yoyo!’
    â€˜But you are part of me now,’ I said. ‘And Mama must know that from the start. I can’t wait for her to meet you!’ And as usual with George, I got my way. I was beginning to feel guilty about that, actually. I wasn’t naturally the bossy type; quite the contrary. So why was I so bossy towards George? Was there a residue of racial superiority in me, an unconscious sense of mastery? One that overcame even my sense of feminine deference to the male; and in him, vice versa? I would have to be careful in future. George was so very sensitive. I did not want to ride roughshod over him. But on this I did insist: he must come with me to greet Mama off the ship. It will be the last time, I swore to myself. Soon we will be married and after that I will be soft and yielding, and he will be the man, strong and in charge. That’s the way it should be.
    â€˜There she is,’ I cried, pointing. I grabbed George’s hand and pushed my way through the crowd, dragging him behind me. Yes, there was Mama, crossing the gangplank! She had hardly changed a bit! So lovely! She wore a travelling suit of tweed – rather unsuitable for our climate – and a hat and was just unfurling a parasol as I saw her, and she looked so smart. I pushed myself to the front of the waiting crowd, George in tow, and the moment Mama touched firm ground I flung myself at her.
    â€˜Mama, Mama! How I’ve missed you! Welcome home!’
    Mama’s arms opened wide and closed round me, and we stood there in silence for a long moment. I was sobbing with relief and gladness. How I had worried these last few weeks! I have a tremendous fear of the Atlantic crossing. The ocean is so wide, so deep! I had nightmares of Mama in a little boat tossed on the waves and sinking down into the ocean depths. Papa always used to scoff at these fears, and Miss Wright, our governess, too: ocean travel is safe, they would tell me; few ships sink. Yet still, the terror of the ocean and its power never left me. And only recently the greatest ship that was ever built, the Titanic , supposed to be unsinkable, had sunk! Proving that I was right to fear the ocean. One thing is sure: I shall never make that voyage. You will never find me boarding a ship bound for