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working age. Probably he should mandate like some of his neighbours that women of childbearing age should have at least one child per year. Surely that would put a stop to his shortage problem. But it brought him right back to his problem of the good breeders dying.
    The colony was such a challenge, labour was so expensive, the slave traders were asking more for the scraggly looking men they carried back with them each year. He hoped the growth of sugar cane as a crop would be viable or else he would be broke, he had sunken all his money into it.
    “Did you hear me?” Elizabeth asked.
    “No, I was thinking that the price of slaves had gone up,” Robert said absently.
    “Why do we need them anyway?” Elizabeth asked.
    “Why don’t we just go back to England and leave this place behind.”
    “No,” Robert looked at her earnest expression. She was really becoming a nuisance. She bothered him every day about going back to England. His fortune was here, he could feel it. Sugar is going to do well, it had to. Then, he would be rich. Richer than he had ever dreamed, richer than her father, all he needed was more slaves.
    “You don’t listen to me anymore,” Elizabeth whimpered beside him.
    “Elizabeth! stop the whining and the tears,” Robert’s grey eyes flashed in anger. He picked up his fork to eat, “I'm tired.”
    “You are always tired,” Elizabeth wailed, “I barely see you anymore. I have to beg for attention.”
    Robert snorted, “you see me all the time. You sneak around as if you suspect me of doing some wrong.”
    “You are doing wrong!” Elizabeth’s expression turned sour, “you have human beings in captivity, you impregnate them then sell them when they look like you.”
    Robert got up and flung down his napkin, “stop talking foolishness woman.”
    The footman hurriedly picked up the napkin and stood silently in the corner, his eyes snapping from one to the other.
    “I know its true Robert,” Elizabeth sighed, “I sneak around because I know the sick games you play with the little slave girls. I sneak around so that I can rescue them from you. You are an animal,” she sobbed, “I hate you.”
    Robert frowned at her, “then go back to England where you belong.”
    “If I go I take my son,” Elizabeth said determinedly.
    “Then I guess you will have to stay and witness my sick games then,” Robert said his eyes blazing; he was partially glad that Elizabeth knew about his addiction, at least now he would not need to hide around as he had been doing lately. “I will not allow you to take my child.”
    Elizabeth ran from the room sobbing, her fashionable head dress that she had worn for dinner bounced on the doorjamb as she went through the door, which was opened for her by another footman.
    “Claudius,” Robert snapped to the footman, “bring a brandy to my study now.”
    “Yes sar, Massa Robert sar,” Claudius said obediently. He had many things to tell the other house slaves tonight.
     

Chapter Seventeen
     
    Kes stared at Serena Braithwaite; she was just as he thought. Another colonist woman who was struggling to keep up with the current fashions in London. She was in a big tent like dress and her face heavily powdered. She had pale grey eyes and looked like an old woman, the weather obviously did not agree with her skin.
    Her daughters, Hilma and Hilga looked like they could hardly breathe in their ridiculously corseted dress. Hilma couldn’t stop talking about her upcoming marriage. Hilga, on the other hand, kept looking at him and giggling. They were very opposite in appearance. Hilma was blonde haired and blue-eyed and was obviously the favorite of her parents while Hilga was a red-head with myriads of large freckles. Their brown spots made her appear as if she was a floral piece.
    “This is the dining room,” Serena simpered, “and all of this gorgeous silver is real.” She pointed to a cabinet where a slave sat on the floor polishing the silver, he jumped up when