Yellow Wife(44)

Emotion overpowered me. We would be a pair, like me and Mama, and I would teach her everything I knew. Not how to be a slave, but how to be a lady. Like Miss Sally taught me. She sucked with her tiny fingers wrapped around mine. That was the picture the Jailer saw when he walked into my bedroom.

He gripped his hat in his hand, while his eyes glistened with tears of joy. I sat up and presented his first child to him. He took her in his arms. I watched from the bed as he cooed at her and kissed her neck. I planned to name her Ruth.

“We will name her Hester. My mother’s name.” I disguised my disappointment.

“You have done well, Pheby Delores Brown. She is beautiful.” He snuggled her to his chest. “I will give her the world.”



* * *



The Jailer constantly visited us, wanting to hold Hester and talk to her. I wondered how he conducted any business at all. He spoiled us completely, having Abbie fluff my pillows and bring meals to my room. There were toys and blankets for Hester but nothing new for Monroe. I tried not to worry about the Jailer’s lack of attachment to my son. If we were going to have a family, however unconventional, I wanted Monroe to be a part of it, but he showed no interest in my boy. Still, I wanted Monroe to get used to his sister, so July and I developed a system. Each morning after the Jailer left for his business, I brought Hester to the downstairs bedroom so that he could interact with her. While I sat in the room with the two, July kept watch for the Jailer from the window. I did not know if he would approve of the visits or not, and I decided not to take any chances of upsetting him when things were going so well.

Monroe treated Hester with wonder during our visits, touching her hands and kissing her face. Since he was recently weaned, I did not nurse her in front of him, so when she started up a fuss we would have to go. Those visits were the best part of my day. When Monroe settled down from the excitement of seeing her, I held them both in my arms and sang every children’s song that Mama had taught me. In the time that I had lived at the jail, those moments were the closest semblance of peace.

When Hester turned three months old, the Jailer decided to throw a party to celebrate her birth. In her honor, he invited three couples: Silas Omohundro, Hector Davis, and David Pulliam, all jail owners and dealers of the chattel business in Richmond, and their companions. I had not heard of or met most of these couples, yet he wanted us to move heaven and earth in preparation to receive them.

“I want everything perfect. Nothing is too good for Hester,” he reminded me daily. He had only given us one week’s notice about the party, so we all buzzed around like blue-arsed flies trying to prepare.

To get ready for the festivities, Elsie slaughtered a pig, July picked vegetables from the garden, Tommy polished the silver, Basil whitewashed the outside of the house, and Abbie went to the bakery for sweets. Elsie got mad when she realized she was not making dessert, but when she baked anything but her apple pies, she usually added too much filling and the result was a hot, bubbling disaster.

The Jailer insisted that a dress be tailored for me. The German seamstress he sent me to on Grace Street did not seem pleased to work for me at first. She carelessly took the wrong measurements, and when she wrote them down she seemed surprised when I corrected her. She tried to dissuade me from the material I selected, saying it was too expensive. When I used the name Rubin Lapier, she fell over herself to help me. I was annoyed but also impressed by the power being associated with him wielded.

The day before the party, I rearranged the furniture in the parlor to make it more open for guests, assembled centerpieces for the dining room table, and helped Abbie dust. Abbie had no experience tending a party, so I taught her how to set a table properly and explained the way white folks like to be served dinner.

“Back straight and stiff. Seen but never heard.”

City life was different from plantation life. There was no punkah, a fan used to keep the flies away and the room cool. I hated opening the windows because of the odor and sounds coming from the jail, but the house sweltered in summer so I had no choice. The candles that I scented with perfume worked at masking the smell, kept the mosquitoes out, and added a loveliness to the table.

In the afternoon, I propped Hester on the bed. She chewed on her hand while July laced my corset.

“Is that good?”

“Tighter.”

“Ma’am, you red in the face.”

“I can take it a little tighter.” I held my breath.

When July finished with the corset, I slipped into my hoopskirt. The gown had a white-and-blue delaine skirt and bodice with a satin trim. It was the most elegant and elaborate garment that I had ever owned. When I caught myself in the mirror, my first thought was that Mama would have been pleased at how I had made the best out of my situation. When I was growing up, she constantly reminded me to never be a slave in my mind. Tonight’s gathering served as my opportunity to honor her wishes. As I slipped into my satin shoes, I tried shooing away my second thought, but it pressed hard against my temples. What would Essex think of me? Had he too found it necessary to move on? I shoved those feelings aside.

July slipped Hester into a white satin gown with a light blue ribbon around her head so that we matched. The Jailer knocked before entering my room. His navy waistcoat with a floral cravat also complemented my attire.

“You look lovely.” He pressed my cheek to his.

“Thank you.”