Authors: Ann Rinaldi
MyJohn came over every day now, to help our manager, David Melton, keep the place running. He even kept the books for Pa. We had near seventy Negroes on the place altogether. And things were changing all around. MyJohn said there were more and more whisperings amongst the field people. I knew Pegg was getting bolder and bolder. So were Alice and Silvy. MyJohn said the field Negroes were gathering in groups, sloughing off work, and giving David a lot of sass of late.
Every white planter's family in the commonwealth was afraid of their Negroes.
Pa and I had spoken often of the problem.
"If war comes, I have no doubt that the British will encourage slave insurrections to discourage a patriot movement," Pa said.
Pa's been talking about war for a whole year now, in meetings.
They call Pa the Voice in those meetings. Mr. Jefferson, the Pen. And Colonel Washington, the Sword.
Pa says he hates slavery.
But he also says he's drawn along by the inconvenience of living in Virginia without his Negroes. "But a time will come when we can abolish this evil. Until then, we can at least treat them with leniency," he says.
So there it was. Pa's Negroes must be treated with leniency. He'd talked with MyJohn, David Melton, and me about it. We all promised to abide by his wishes.
But I know that since Mama took her turn for the worse, Pegg has decided to test her mettle. And mine. If it weren't for Mama, I'd wed MyJohn and go and live with him and write poetry, as I like to do. And visit Williamsburg during Publick Times, when General Court is held, and attend balls and lectures, the fairs and the theater. And then come home and have babies.
But for now I am needed here. I sat down on the floor and leaned my head against Mama's chair as she dozed. She'd walked again last night, and I knew she was pure spent and would sleep the afternoon away. The fire crackled. I plotted.
B
ECAUSE
P
A READ
and loved John Locke, he believed in Mr. Locke's theory that a child can "play himself into learning."
He let the little ones run wild about the plantation. They came home with scratched legs and dirty faces. Anne had ruined so many dresses, I couldn't keep up with their repair. It kept me from working on my dowry linens, and I loved working on them.
When we could get them in the house, Will and Anne were supposed to be tutored afternoons by Mr. Chitwell, John's tutor. John's lessons were done by midday. But many an afternoon Mr. Chitwell waited for Anne and Will in the front parlor, staring at the imported mahogany hardwood paneling. And they never came.
After lessons, Anne was to make herself available to me, to learn the womanly arts so she could look well to the ways of her household when she grew up.
But Anne had other concerns, mostly having to do with hanging about Pegg in the kitchen and learning the use of herbs. I didn't want to know what else she was learning, but I suspected it had to do with less-than-savory beliefs.
Yesterday she'd told me how the late Emperor of Russia lost his life. It had to do with a dagger in the throat.
I loved my sister Anne. She could be sweet, and we both enjoyed talking about books and poetry. But she was causing me more and more vexation of late, going in her own direction.
"With all due respect to your father, Miss Patsy, never have I seen such ungovernable children," Mr. Chitwell said on parting that day.
I sighed. "I know. Tomorrow they will be here. I promise."
I stood on the front steps and waved him off. Then waited for the post rider coming up the lane. Oh, what a fine day! I breathed in the spring air, greeted the post rider, and called for Silvy to bring him a cup of cold lemonade. He drank it under the huge oak tree, left the cup on a rock, and waved.
There was a letter from Pa.
I took the mail, newspapers, and letters and walked the long central hall, out the back door. Here I sat on a bench in my newly planted herb garden.
I ripped open the letter.
Good Morrow, Sarah, Daughter, Son,
and little ones:I write to tell you that I'll arrive home late
tonight. Don't wait up. Keep a candle in the
window of the traveler's room, and some cold
meat on the hunter's sideboard. I miss you all
I folded the letter.
Pa coming home tonight! What would I do? I put the letter down and filled my eyes with familiar things that settled me.
There. Some bridal wreath already blooming at the end of the gardens.
There. Daffodils nodding their yellow heads along the lane that led through the dependencies, the warehouse, washhouse, ash house, kitchen, and blacksmith shop.
There, too. Blue field pansies, so pleasing to the eye.
And there! MyJohn coming home from the fields. I watched him dismount his horse, Peaches, and hand the reins to Barley, the stableboy. My eyes feasted on the tall figure he cut, his graceful, sure movements, his elegant stature as he walked into the detached kitchen to wash.
My favorite fancy was that MyJohn and I were already wed, and this was our house.
He came out of the kitchen, holding his planter's hat, his dusty boots making long strides on the lane.
"You look spent. And you're early," I said.
He kissed me. Greedily. I didn't want it to stop, but I pulled away. Servants were always watching, and decorum must be kept.
"You sound like a wife already. I couldn't wait to see you."
"Then I'm glad you came early. Have you seen the children?"
He laughed. "They're running wild with the dogs over Chiswell's grave."
"Did you scold them?" Sometimes MyJohn was too lenient. It was why they liked him so.
"I told them to come home."
"Pegg tells them stories about Chiswell's ghost," I said. Chiswell was buried on the grounds. After bail and before his trial, he'd killed himself. But at the burial, a crowd of men demanded that the casket be opened to make sure Chiswell was really in it.
"Wait until I get my hands on Anne," I said.
"Don't be harsh with her. She's still just a child," MyJohn said. We went to the dining room, where Silvy was just setting down the silver chocolate pot and china cups.
"Anne said that your mother near drowned Edward this morning."
"I knew she'd mouth it all over the place!"
He leaned forward, toward me. "Patsy, your mother is in a perilous way. You can't keep it quiet anymore."
Tears came to my eyes. "You would have me tell Pa?"
"It's his concern, Patsy, not yours."
"It's my job to protect her. I'm the oldest."
He took my hand. "It's your job, dearest, to protect your little brother Edward. And maybe the others. As a gentleman, a man of prominence and honor, your father would take great exception to your not telling him. Did you not think of that?"
I gulped back my tears. "Pegg locked Mama in the dry well. And she turns Anne against me."
"Dearest, that's part of the problem. Pegg senses the mistress of the house is in a weak position, and she's taking over. I can help you with that. I'll speak to her."
"No. I must speak with her. If I don't, she'll never respect me."
He squeezed my hand. "All right. But we must do what's best for Aunt Sarah."
We were cousins. He loved Mama, too. "MyJohn, I'm thinking I should ask Pa if we could wed sooner than next year. Then you can live here and run the place for him."
"David is doing a fine job. I wouldn't usurp his place."
"Are you saying you don't want to wed me sooner?"
A new place was cut into my heart every time he smiled. He smiled now. "You know I'd marry you tomorrow if your father said yes. And I'd continue to work with David. With six hundred acres now cleared, he needs help managing."
He was so dear. "It's the children. We should be here to care for them. Anne runs wild. So does Will. And little Betsy looks to me," I said.
"Ask him, then. I'd gladly help you manage the house and children as well. You know they love me. John asks my advice all the time about his horses. He needs a man to talk to on occasion."
"Pa's coming home late tonight."
"Good."
From the back entrance came the shrieking of children. I stood up. "I must go."
"And I must see to the books before supper." He held on to my hand as we walked to the back entrance, where the children were wiping their muddy feet with pieces of burlap. Pegg and her Nancy were with them. Anne was forever bringing Nancy into the house. She'd take her to her room, if I'd let her.
Anne was not a pretty child. Too thin of face, yet her hair, which was strawberry colored and thick and always flying loose, gave her the appearance of a fairy child. Her eyes were as blue as the field pansies. She gave you a turn, all right. She had more intelligence than any girl had a right to have. It would bring her to trouble if she didn't keep it in tow.
"Anne, where have you been?" I demanded. "Look at you. You look like a wanton."
"What's a wanton?"
"Never mind. Go upstairs and change. No, wait."
She turned. "MyJohn says you were running over Chiswell's grave with the dogs."
Pegg took Nancy and the dirty burlap and went outside.
"We don't run over people's graves, Anne. We respect the dead."
"He's not in the grave."
"What? Who told you such nonsense? Pegg?"
"Pegg says he's not in the coffin. He wanted to be buried here, but he isn't. And so his ghost haunts the place."
"That's folderol. There's no such thing as ghosts."
"There are. Pegg says he comes whenever there's a full moon. And next full moon, I'm going out to see him."
"Did Pegg also tell you not to come to lessons or your household learning?"
She made a face. "Household learning grinds at my innards." Then her face brightened. "I saw a white pigeon on one of the chimneys. That means calamity is near." Anne was taken with calamity. It presented her with opportunities.
MyJohn went to her, knelt down close, and whispered something in her ear. She smiled. Then he stood. "Now go upstairs and get clean, as your sister says. You, too, Will."
They went. Will adored MyJohn. Times they acted like he was around for their benefit, not mine.
They ran. Then halfway up, Anne stopped. "Is Mama all right?"
"She's doing well," I lied.
She made a face. "Calamity's coming. I knew it when I saw the white pigeon."
"Anne." MyJohn's voice was gentle.
I leaned on MyJohn's shoulder. "Pa says I'm the glue that holds this family together. What holds the glue together?"
He kissed me again. "Love."
Oh, what would I do without him?
***
I
SET
W
ILL
to reading and Anne to working on her sampler before supper. Betsy, I put down for a nap. Mama woke long enough to nurse Edward, then both went back to sleep again. The house settled under the waning sun.
Then I walked outside to the kitchen to speak to Pegg.
Once Pegg had held me on her lap when I was a child, rocked me, soothed me, told me stories, bathed and dressed me. Her strong arms had been my refuge.
When I'd been invited to other plantations for balls or routs or barbecues, it was Pegg who'd accompanied me. But it is a sign of growing up to distance yourself from the Negroes.
There comes a time in every white child's life when you must let them know you are in charge. It is, for some of us, the most difficult thing to do.
"Mama will be at the board for supper," I told Pegg.
She was basting the ham. "Good."
"I want no mention of this morning. She's forgotten it."
She made a sound in her throat. I saw Silvy and Alice exchange glances, which meant she'd told them all about it.
I took a step forward from the doorway. "Pegg, you locked Mama in the dry well again. I won't have it."
She was putting butter in the peas. "It makes her come round, doan it?"
"That is not for you to decide! And if you do it again, I'll tell Pa."
"Seems to me you oughta tell him anyways."
"Don't sass me, Pegg. I won't have it!" My voice cut the air like a knife slicing butter.
Her eyes flicked down. "Yes, Miss," she said.
I looked at Alice and Silvy. They, too, dropped their gaze to the floor.
I turned to go. "And please stop telling Anne ghost stories and encouraging her to disobey me."
"Uh-huh," she agreed.
Leaving, I was stopped by her voice. "You oughta get a wet nurse for Edward."
"What?"
"Seems to me, if'n your mama got her mind set to drown him, you oughta let somebody else nurse him."
God's shoe buckles, as MyJohn would say. Why hadn't I thought of that? "Who?" I asked.
"Delia gonna give birth any hour now. Seems to me you oughta think on it."
"Of course. I was giving the matter thought," I said. And I walked out the door.
Supper was a quiet affair, with the children on their best behavior. Even little Betsy sat at table with us. I read a piece from the Bible before we ate, as Pa would want me to do.
I hadn't told Mama that Pa was coming home yet, and cautioned the children not to, either. But now it was time to tell her. I did it gently.
"Pa's coming home tonight." I put my hand over hers. "He sent word."
"Your pa? Why, darling, Pa died. Don't you remember? He took sick at the Charlotte County Courthouse. A blockage of the bowels. Dr. Cabell gave him a vial of liquid mercury as a last resort. And it killed him."
"Mama!" I gasped. The children started to whimper. "Hush," I told them. "Pa's not dead. Mama just had a bad dream. Silvy, take them to the front parlor, and we'll read before bedtime."
She did so.
"Mama," I turned to her again. "We live in Hanover County. What would Pa be doing in the Charlotte County Courthouse?"
"Why, darling, we lived there when he took sick. And when he offered himself as a candidate for a seat in the House of Delegates."
"You mean the House of Burgesses, Mama."
"No, dear, the House of Delegates." She smiled. "This is after he was elected governor for the sixth time."