Yellow Wife(3)

The portrait used to hang in the parlor, until Missus Delphina arrived and had it moved up here. She also ordered Miss Sally’s clothing, favorite curtains, tea set, and anything else that belonged to her packed in boxes and donated to a church on the edge of town. Once Master Jacob became wise to his wife cleaning house, he prohibited her from removing his sister’s book collection and piano from the parlor. Then, while he and Missus attended the white church on Sunday, he had four of the field hands bring Miss Sally’s bed over to the loom house for me and Mama.

“Pheby.” Lovie snapped her fingers, beckoning me out of my head, and into Missus’s chambers. The bedroom had a musky smell, like Missus had sprayed too many potions and fragrances. Lovie drew back the heavy, rose-embellished curtains and pushed open the window. The fresh air made it easier to breathe.

“Needin’ a thorough clean. Been let go since Rachel down.”

Lovie moved next to me, grasped my chin, and tilted it up. Her eyes were deep-set and gentle. She had a heart-shaped face, and skin rich as coffee.

“Problem with being high yella. That handprint gonna be on your face all day long. I try to slip you some ice.”

She smoothed the loose strands of my hair back into my ponytail and then covered my head with a dull, itchy scarf.

“Be in Massa’s room if you needin’ me,” Lovie called over her shoulder, then closed the door.

Missus Delphina’s room was as large as the loft in the loom house that I shared with Mama. High ceilings and wide-plank floors. Adjacent to the bed sat a rosewood vanity, and I ran my hands over the floral carvings around the mirror. I listened for footsteps in the hallway and then let myself down on the matching stool. The mirror confirmed Lovie’s prediction. I had three fingerprints marking my cheekbone. Mama would be beside herself.

Before I thought it through, I undid the rag on my head, unraveled my hair, and absentmindedly picked up Missus Delphina’s brush. I glided the strong bristles across my scalp and down to the end of my curls. Missus’s brush worked much better than the wire comb Mama and I used. With a little rouge and a proper gown, I could fit in like a member of the family.

I remembered the time Miss Sally had taken me with her on a carriage ride to Williamsburg. She and Mama fawned over my dress and hair until I did not recognize myself in the looking glass. When we arrived at the first shop, the shoemaker referred to me as Miss Sally’s beautiful daughter, and she did not correct him. Nor did she right the seamstress at the dress shop, or the woman who served us tea. The memory made me smile, as I missed my teacher dearly.

The sound of the bedroom door scraping the floor sent me scrambling to my feet so fast I knocked the silver-plated box filled with hairpins to the floor.

“You thick in the mind?” Lovie hissed at me. “What if I’s the missus?”

“Sorry,” I fumbled.

“At seventeen, I expects more from you, Pheby.”

“Just lost my head.”

“Finish in here, and no more foolishness.” She disappeared back down the hall.

Having idled long enough, I retied my hair and figured it would be best to start with sweeping the ashes from the fireplace and work my way around from there. Then I picked up the broomstick and beat the mattress and pillows until I was satisfied that there were no dust mites or bugs hiding out. Missus kept a porcelain pitcher on a washstand in the back corner, which she used to freshen up between weekly baths. I slushed it clean and hung fresh white towels on the side rail for her convenience. My least favorite chore was emptying her chamber pot. Then there was the task of Missus’s closet. Even though we did not have much company, she still changed three or four times a day, and a pile of discarded dresses both dirty and clean had accumulated on the chaise. I was holding her evening dress on a hanger when Lovie cracked the door and handed me a kerchief containing a block of ice. “When you through in here, Aunt Hope needin’ you to help serve supper.”



* * *



The dining table was long enough to seat twelve. Master Jacob sat at one end and Missus Delphina the other. They were so far from each other that they had to speak up so that the other could hear what was being said. When Mama and I ate, we sat right next to each other with our elbows touching.

I spooned mutton stew into each of their bowls, served slices of cornbread, and then retreated from their line of sight. Kept my back close to the wall without touching it, my white-gloved hands folded in front of me, and pretended not to listen. Mama always said the way to keep peace with white folks was to be available and invisible at the same time.

Master ate with pleasure while Missus idly moved her spoon around the bowl.

“Delphina, you must eat something. Need to keep up your strength.”

“What is the point? I lose everything that I love.”

“We are expecting a new life. Doctor Wilks assured me that this time will be different.” He picked up his wine and drank. “To God be the glory.”

Missus lifted the spoon to her mouth.

“I am heading down to Charleston in a week’s time.”

Her spoon clanked against the bowl. “You went to Richmond not four weeks ago. Do you have to leave again so soon? And me in my condition?”

“Trading is picking up. Getting so people only want wheat from our farm. Bell wheat they calling it. Many deals to be made.”

“So soon after losing my Rachel? Who am I going to get to replace her in the house? And who is going to run the business?” she gripped the table.