AFRICA'S ENGLISH ROSE (closed for Flurtayshus & Chris2c4u)

Flurtayshus

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AFRICA'S ENGLISH ROSE (closed)

PROLOGUE

The Gold Coast of South Africa, Ghana, 1774

Cape Coast Castle Region


Kaya jerked awake, the pain from a stinging slap still fresh on her cheek, only to be the recipient of another blow.

She cried out, her arms flailing at her silent attacker. Two strong hands gripped her wrists and bit into them tightly.

“I’m sorry Kaya. But you must get up!” The low voice was edged with panic. “Get your things!”

Fighting the grogginess of sleep, Kaya struggled up off the dirt floor of her sleeping quarters and grabbed for her tattered everyday clothing, only to have her hand slapped.

“Not those!” The looming figure pointed at the chest that held the British clothing of her father. “Those!”

Disoriented, she rushed to do as she was told. Almost as soon as the hem cleared her knees, she was shoved through the doorway and into the white blazing light of day.

Kaya blinked rapidly and her eyes watered adjusting to the abrupt change.

“Hurry Kaya! We must run.” Kaya turned and realized the slapping hands had been those of her sixteen year old cousin, Sufi.

“Sufi?” She asked bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

Sufi growled his frustration. She was going to get them both killed if he didn’t get her out of here. He tied the little bundle he’d been able to gather of her things, to his front and then squatted down to her level.

Kaya shied away. She could tell something was wrong now. The look on Sufi’s face was similar to the look he’d given her the night her mother had died.

He caught her before she could turn and run.

“Listen to me. Your father is here. We must get to him before Mama Buhle gets to him. Do you understand?”

At the mere mention of her father, Kaya brightened. “Papa?”

Sufi gave her an admonishing look for having spoken in English but relented and answered her in English. “Yes. Papa. Now climb on.”

Kaya did as she was told and climbed onto Sufi’s brown back. The minute she was on, he was up and running.

Sufi ran as fast as his lean legs would carry him. His breath wheezed in and out of his lungs and one thought propelled him forward. He HAD to get to his little cousin to her father, before they could get to him. If he did that, she would be safe.

Sufi had been dozing near the coastline avoiding his chores for the day when he’d heard Mama Buhle and her followers. Crouching behind an abandoned building he’d heard them plot against his cousin’s natural father and how if he didn’t cooperate with their plan that they would kill his cousin.

After everything Kaya had been through, Sufi knew he just couldn’t allow it to happen.

Plaster homes, wooden booths and crowds of people passed in a blur but as he neared Main Street his breathing became more labored. Running by himself was no problem at all, but running with his 10 year old cousin on his back had sapped him of energy. He stopped briefly and set her down.

“We’re almost there!” He panted and then grabbed her hand.

Sufi drug her along through the crowded streets toward the shore path. The steps carved out of stone would lead them down to the boats where Mr. Worthington would be supervising the loading of supplies.

They were half way down the stairs almost in shouting distance of Kaya’s father when they heard the booming voice of a woman shout down over them.

“TRAITOR!!” Mama Buhle roared with anger and sent three of her men down the staircase after them.

“Run Kaya!” Sufi shoved Kaya forward across the sand.

A crowd of white men turned around at the commotion and standing in the center was the tallest most distinguished man with a head of thick blonde hair and sparking green eyes.

Recognition dawned in his eyes as Kaya sped toward him, her caramel skin glowing in the South African sun.

“Is that my baby girl?” He shouted with laughter, kneeling down, ready to scoop her up as soon as she was close enough.

Sufi shoved her into his arms.

“You take her! You take her or she’ll be dead like her mother.” He ordered viciously.

The smile immediately dropped from Wesley Worthington’s face. “What do you mean?!”
 
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Wesley took the frightened girl in his arms as Sufi looked about him at the three men that were waiting for him to go back.

"It seems you don't have a very welcoming reception waiting for you," said Mr Worthington. The young man looked back to the captain, who gestured for him to go and help take barrels of water to the boats.

"We'll drop you down the coast."

Sufi nodded; there was nothing to keep him there for anymore, not now.

Wesley walked over to him. "Dead? Kaya's mother?"

Sufi nodded again. "For consorting with slavers." He looked to the men walking slowly back to the steps.

Worthington had never been a slaver, his trade was iron goods from England for woods from the jungles of the hinterland. People knew him here, he thought, knew that he had been accepted by the King in the mountains who had offered his daughter to him - Kaya's mother. She had even voyaged with him in his travels along the African coast for a while but she could never accompany him home to England, where Captain Worthington was married.

He remembered her skin next to him in the royal house they had shared, the smell of spices on her body, they way she moved against him. Then - on his next journey, the child; caramel skinned and bright, his green eyes tinged with brown, introduced to her father for the first time.

Now this. He held his girl in his arms and headed back towards the boats, back towards the clipper anchored a few hundred yards out.

****

The voyage home was long and on it Kaya made friends with the sailors, who played with her and taught her how to knot ropes and climb the rigging - a little way; the captain didn't stifle her but knew she had to take care, the ship could be a dangerous place.

Slowly they made their way north into cooler air; Kaya missed her home but understood that she had to be with her father now.

All of them had told her of their destination (and her English improved) - London, the largest city in Europe. Finally, as they headed up the Thames she stood in the bow and watched the river bank gradually become filled with houses, warehouses, more boats and more people than she had ever seen.

Then there were the smells, a reek that grew stronger as the city basked in summer, as waste of all sorts tumbled into the water and slowly floated past them out to sea.

Kaya was a bit frightened when they finally tied up at the wharf and it was several hours before the cargo was secured and she could go ashore with her father. He was speaking to an older man in a brown leather coat, a tricorn hat pulled down over his face. The man nodded, a few coins were exchanged and Wesley turned to his daughter.

"Come, we'll go and see your new family."

The man was the driver of a coach; nothing too grand, not like the ones Wesley had told her that he had at his own house but it was servicable for the ride through the city and to its outskirts, where they reached a house in a new square, airy and light with trees and shade and away from the bustle of the docks.

Wesley told her to wait in the carriage for a while and he went to the door of a large house and was admitted by a woman in a uniform. Several minutes elapsed that turned into nearly half an hour before the woman again emerged and came to the carriage to take Kaya in.

The house felt cool and she was ushered into a large room where her father sat holding hands with a woman. Wesley smiled and held out his other hand for his daughter to come over.

"Kaya, this is my sister, Miss Elizabeth. She has agreed to look after you for a while. I will come and see you every chance I get but I...well I have places to go that you could not accompany me to." He looked at his sister, who had agreed to shelter the young girl from Wesley's wife. Elizabeth was herself no stranger to scandal, consorting with poets and freethinkers, she had already begun to see the raising of an exotic young girl in her house as something of another blow to convention.

Kaya looked at Miss Elizabeth and noticed she was similar in looks to her father.

"The first thing that both of you might want to do," said Elizabeth, wrinkling her nose, "is take a bath."

Wesley smiled; he had apologised already to her that the urgency of his business meant that he hadn't had a chance to wash off the month's of grime.

"We smell like London?" Kaya said - and held her nose.

They all laughed.
 
Eight Years Later

London, England 1782

“Auntie Liz!” Kaya shouted as she bounded down the staircase in the new gown she’d been given for her introduction into the ton.

The season was about to start with Lady Granger’s lavish soiree and Kaya was near to bursting with excitement.

“Auntie Liz! It’s beautiful.”

Kaya almost lost her footing as she slid past her dear aunts library but managed to catch herself on a hanging tapestry only to turn back and rush into the library.

Elizabeth Worthington was lying comfortably across a chaise indulging in her favorite past time, champagne and chocolates. Calmly, she lowered her book and closely inspected her niece with her wild curls, caramel skin and exotic eyes. “God Bless us Kaya. What would they think hearing how you bellow so?”

Without missing a beat, Kaya replied, “They would think I was the very image of my most favorite aunt in the world.”

Kaya softened the jibe by planting an enthusiastic kiss on her aunt’s cheek before skipping over to the mirror to admire herself again. The gown was a custom fit as all her gowns had been since she’d begun developing into a woman. Her shape seemed to have more curves than that of most of her counterparts; but her Aunt Liz had assured her that curves would quickly become an asset.

“Besides,” Kaya enthused. “What is life without passion?”

“A much safer life indeed.” Liz laughed knowing she herself never held with the notion of a safe life or anything else for that matter.

“Oh posh! Who wants a safe life anyway?” Kaya mirrored her own thoughts.

“You’d do best not to let your father hear you speak that way.” Elizabeth adjusted her spectacles and watched her niece with great amusement.

Kaya lifted her thick cloud of hair and held it at the nape of her neck considering how she’d wear it at the ball. “My father cares not for convention. If he had, he would never have brought me back with him.”

Liz barked a most unlady-like laugh. Kaya had spoken so plainly it never failed to amuse, the things that would come out of the chit’s mouth. She always spoke the full and honest truth despite the fact that there were times she shouldn’t.

“True indeed.” Liz smiled. “Although, some might call it reckless. However, tonight marks a whole new chapter in your life my dear. I assure you, your father’s easy temper will change the moment he realizes the virile young men of the ton have designs on his daughter.”

Kaya eyed the woman who’d become her mother since she’d lost her own in Africa. She could not imagine her father changing his manner now. For as long as she could remember she’d had the run of the property, every wish granted and every desire met. Under her dear aunts tutelage she’d learned all she needed to know about being a well-bred lady as well as plenty of knowledge she understood would not be readily accepted by polite society. Her aunt, whom she trusted above all, seemed to believe tonight would change her life but Kaya was of a mind that this was simply elaborate entertainment.
 
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The carriage of Lady Elizabeth rolled through the London streets in the early evening sunlight on its way to the townhouse of the Tyldesleys, the first night of the London season.

Kaya, always curious, was still almost sticking her head out of the window like a child. Elizabeth smiled and had a word to ask her to be more lady-like. Kaya sighed and sat back in the seat. She already knew that her father would try to be there and she wondered, once again to her aunt, "Will Henry be there?"

Elizabeth nodded warily; the man was twice Kaya's age, a merchant's factor and an acquaintance of Wesley. She could see plots of a dynasty being created and Kaya was the prize. Still, she seemed to like the man for some reason, though she wondered if it was simply to please her father who she adored.

They turned into the drive where a line of carriages awaited to leave their occupants at the two storey house. Kaya excitedly wriggled; she couldn't wait to get out.

Their turn came and she remembered her deportment lessons, emerging with grace from the carriage and greeting the hosts demurely. They were then ushered inside into the cool of the marbled hall with its elegant symmetry and statues. Footmen in regalia showed her through to the large dining room whose floor had been cleared for dancing later; a small orchestra were already in place and tuning instruments.

SUddenly she drew in a breath and bit her lip, looking to her aunt then back to where her father stood. She knew better than to approach him openly then - he was with his rather pinched and shrunken wife - but she gazed his way and didn't believe it when he began to walk over with a smile.

He greeted his sister and then turned to his daughter. "Kaya, it is good to see you again." He took both her hands; he had recently returned from a voyage and had hardly seen her for six months. She was surprised at his holding her hands and he leaned closer.

"My wife knows. It was time she was told, as you might well - make a match with a gentleman soon and I would not deny you my fatherhood at the marriage."

She nodded and held back a tear though her eyes became watery.

"Speaking of which..." Wesley looked over her shoulder and she turned a head and gave a small smile at the rather large form of Henry, striding over. He shook hands with her father and then bowed to her.

"If I might, I should very much like to take the first dance with you this evening," he said, rather breathily. His eye ran over her body greedily, the bare shoulders and her bosom seemed to intrigue him, seeing her for the first time in a fine dress.

She nodded in agreement and Henry began to speak to her father of his recent voyage. Kaya's eyes wandered to a group of three young men stood drinking wine and laughing together. She caught the eye of the tallest, his grey coat open in a rather unfashionable way. He smiled and made a small gesture with his wine glass as if to offer a toast to her. Kaya blushed and looked away quickly, not seeing the dark cloud that came across his fine features when he glimpsed Henry Sawley speaking to her father.
 
Kaya

Kaya turned her back to the young men and attempted to pay attention to the conversation but she could feel the eyes of the tall man in the grey coat, burning into her back. Just to be sure, Kaya glanced boldly over her shoulder and sure enough, eyes a cerulean blue twinkled at her, though his mouth was set in a grim line. His hair was black as midnight and longer by most standards. It gave him a brooding but not unattractive look. She narrowed her eyes and wondered for a brief moment who he was.

“…see our Miss Worthington is attracting attention already.”

The words brought Kaya back around to the conversation. Colin Britney, her father’s best friend and business associate had joined the small group and stood grinning like a Cheshire cat. At his comment the whole group turned in unison to look at the lively trio. Specifically Mr. Grey Coat.

A sudden image flashed through Kaya’s mind of her early French lessons. She pieced the images together. Monsieur…le frock loup- gris. She smiled and knew that would be how she would refer to him later when she retold the whole bit to Sufi.

“Hrrrmph!” Henry Sawley barked with distaste. “The young upstarts.”

“Really, Mr. Sawley.” Lady Elizabeth remarked with amusement.

“It’s true, I tell you.” Henry blustered with great animation. “It’s a good thing Miss Worthington has men like her father, Mr. Britney and myself as protection from those types.”

Kaya glanced quickly at her aunt expecting to see more amusement but instead she saw her aunt narrow her eyes.

However, before she could discreetly question her about it, the opening strains of a minuet began and Henry turned to her offering his hand. “Well my dear, I do believe that one is ours.”

Kaya took his hand smiling brightly and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor.

The swirling and twirling began almost immediately and Kaya was caught up on the spot. She laughed gaily and without restraint and more than once noticed the amused stares of those around her.

Her aunt had always told her she was infectious and soon she had those around her laughing and enjoying themselves as much as she was.

Henry’s grasp on her became tighter and tighter as the dance progressed which made it harder to move but she just figured he was an older man who need a bit more support during the quicker movements.

About halfway through the dance, Henry had her mid-turn when he stopped abruptly. Kaya had to finish the turn herself and when she was again facing the direction Henry should be, she found herself face to face with Monsieur Le Frock Loup-Gris tapping Henry on the shoulder.

“May I cut in?” His low husky voice did something to her insides and she thought suddenly that she’d never wanted anything more.
 
They stopped dancing abruptly. Henry was rather red faced with the exertion but his face became suffused with purple, his voice trying to contain his anger with a veneer of courtesy.

"Sir, this is not a dance to allow interruption."

"Henry, you'll have your chance with the young lady again this evening."

The eyes of the dancers swirling around them seemed to await some social gaff but Henry made a small bow to Kaya who dipped her own knee in response before the stranger took her in his arms.

He moved lithely, his figure more athletic than portly Henry.

He wondered if he ought to try and speak now about his strange behaviour, cutting into the dance but instead simply smiled and held her warm body close. She smiled back as they moved for what was disappointingly the small time remaining in the dance.

"That was...exquisite," he said taking her gloved hand and kissing it, his eyes on hers as he did so. She swallowed and bit her top lip.

Henry stalked over to the pair, determined to break them up.

"Mr Fiennes," he said with a frgid smile. "I'll thank you not to attempt such uncooth behaviour again with Miss Worthington," he said.

"Miss Worthington - so you're Captain Worthington's daughter?" Mr. Alexander Fiennes ignored Henry, putting the question to his dancing partner, who nodded, happy to be able to acknowledge her family.

"Ahhh," said Fiennes, with a sound of apparent sudden understanding and his eyes went to Henry's face. "I see."

Henry turned to Kaya. "If I may, I would speak with you privately."

Before she went, not wanting to offend a friend of her father's she said, "your name, sir?"

"Alexander Fiennes," he said, with an extravagent bow, "at your service. We will speak again soon, I hope."

With that he retreated to his friends, who were speaking to a group of sisters from a family in the cotton trade. She sighed, thinking he would be lost to her as company that evening.

Henry was speaking, she realised. Louts? She listened to his low-voice but acidic attack on the young men and Alex in particular.

"I'm afraid Miss Worthington, he has a reputation as something of a cur. Excuse my forthright language but it needs to be said." He smiled. "Your reputation is all I am thinking of; you are innocent of such things this being your initiation into society. I felt you should know."

"Thank you sir, it is good to have a - friend." She smiled and mentally noted to check up on Mr Fiennes through Lady Elizabeth, who seemed to know all the families in London from her stories.

She looked over to the dark haired young man who was chatting with his friends but, as if he knew, he shot a glance across the room at her. He smiled but in his heart he thought somehow, she has to be told. Perhaps saved - from Henry's clutches.
 
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Kaya

Henry proceeded to monopolize the majority of her dances for the rest of the evening with the exception of a handful. One had included her father to which she’d received an icy reception from his wife and another with Colin Britney who had teased and flirted with her so outrageously he’d nearly bent her double with laughter. The other interesting distractions had been those of the two gentlemen who’d flanked Monsieur Le Frock Loup- Gris earlier in the evening, beginning with that of the flaxen-haired right-hand, Cuthbert and two dances later the freckle-faced Dinwiddie, with hair the color of fire.

Each seemed to take great pleasure in relating how they’d been dispatched to dance with her specifically to thwart those attempts of Henry. Both had also taken great pains to assure her that they would’ve danced with her regardless of their orders but that the purpose just made it that more fun. Kaya found herself laughing gaily with the pair and not taking any offense at all. She couldn’t quite understand their want to antagonize Henry but she was certain it was all good natured.

After her fifth straight dance, Kaya had found herself nearly exhausted and desperate for repast. So it was between her dance with Mr. Britney and yet another that Henry was moving across the floor to claim, that Kaya was able to slip out of the ballroom and down the hall way to where the refreshments were. She wove easily in and out of the crowd passing her but suddenly a coat the color of a deep forest loomed in front of her and seemed determined to block her path mere feet from the doorway.

“I beg your pardon sir.” Kaya murmured out of habit and stepped to the left to move around him but was surprised when the man moved in the same direction and stopped again in front of her.

Kaya was about to laugh at the mistake when she finally looked up and found herself face to face with a tall, handsome young man, with familiar features that she couldn’t seem to place.

Startled, she inquired. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

When the previously blank mask turned to one of hardened intensity Kaya was unnerved enough to take a step back. She could sense the eyes of the ton on them but none seemed inclined to stop and inquire as to her welfare.

The young man stepped forward putting them almost nose to nose, his eyes matching the green of his coat bore down into her wide green eyes the color of grass on a spring day.

“You’re Miss Worthington I presume?”

An odd sense of disconcertion came over her and all she could manage was a nod.

“You’re the woman who claims to be the long lost child of Captain Worthington?”

There was no censure in his voice but there was wariness and a bit of disbelief.

“I…I don’t claim to be. I just am.” Kaya stammered taken aback at the whole manner of this confrontation.

At that, this tall man bowed low, holding out his hand until she placed hers in it. “Weston Worthington at your service.”

A tiny gasp preceded her rush of words, “Why you! ….Oh my!.....you’re my..I mean, my fathers’…Oh bloody hell…You’re his son!”

A grin reminiscent of her fathers spread across his face. “And you are clearly his daughter.”

“Those eyes…..it’s incredible.” He remarked, and she grinned in response.

Weston’s grip tightened warmly around her fingers. “It’s good to meet you sister.”

The comment seemed genuine enough and Kaya felt a completely unexpected hot rush of tears nearly close her throat. Her eyes fell to the floor and she impulsively asked, “You would accept me then?”

“I do indeed.” He answered and then added with caution at her tentative smile. “However, I can only speak for myself, you understand.”

Kaya’s smile dimmed a bit but this was only logical. She’d seen the look on her step-mother’s face. She wasn’t welcome there but her brother….it felt so good to think that openly after years of being unable to claim him or any relationship to him, he seemed to accept her, just like that.

A thought suddenly occurred to her and again on impulse she blurted. “I would get to know you.”

Weston’s eyebrows shot up but his grin got even bigger. “Do you ride?”

Kaya almost snorted out loud at the ridiculousness of the question but remembered herself at the last. “I love it.”

Seemingly as eager as she was, Weston asked, “Tomorrow then? The park?”
 
Kaya had takn to riding when she came to England as if she'd been doing it all hr life. The folllowing morning at the park she arrived with on of her aunt's grooms and sh rode her favourite grey filly.

It was still early and Hyde's Park was swathed in a low lying white mist, the trees standing out from it like dark carvings against the pale morning sky. Kaya patted Moonbeam's neck and lt her walk around in circles as she looked towards th gates where she saw a man on a dark horse approaching quickly.

Weston greeted her with a nod of his head, a smile and a compliment to her mount.

"She is my - our aunt's really but I have ridden her for several years now, whenever I get the chance."

Weston gestured with a tilt of his head for the path and they began to walk on, leaving the groom to wait for his mistress' return.

Kaya told a few of her adventures that had culminated in her arrival in England, not knowing what her half brother might already know. He listened to her tales and asked some questions.

"But now - having begun the season and now that people know..about me," she hesitated and looked at him. "Do you think your mother will one day be able to speak with me?"

Weston didn't answer for a moment, he looked down at the bridle path they followed before replying. "I think it came as - a shock - to her," he said slowly. "Father, though, will keep trying to explain himself to her. His courage in saving you is something she will admire - so perhaps there is hope."

Kaya looked around the park, where two other riders were in view, one coming from the main entrance behind them, the other from across the mists, out of a small coppice. He was riding furiously and was comig there way. Weston was caught up in thoughts of the family when he heard Kaya call his name. He looked around as he heard hoofbeats and the sound of a crop on a horse.

Moonlight whinneyed and snorted; the man had struck her across her flank and now rode off quickly towards the mists again. Weston was about to pursue him when he heard Kaya call out as she tried to control the frightened horse, who again snorted and ran towards the woods.

Weston abandoned thoughts of pursuing the stranger and quickly rode ofter Kaya. Though a good horsewoman, Moonlight was never beaten and the strike to her flank had frightened her and she tugged at the reins disobediently; she was heading towards a wood.

"Kaya," Weston called out as he closed in on rider and mount.

"Look out for the branches!"
 
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