Yellow Wife(59)

The Jailer stumbled across the courtyard, belting out directions to the drivers, blocking my view of Essex with his large girth. I wanted to bang on the window and shout Essex’s name, but then the driver holding his chain yanked him forward. Essex lifted his head, taking in his new surroundings.

“Look up, sweetheart. I am right here,” I whispered in vain.

When the men moved him from the courtyard to the jail, I did not realize that I had been holding my breath until I sat down feeling faint. My need to see Essex consumed me, but sneaking out at that moment would prove dangerous. Besides, the guards were with him and I had not heard the Jailer return to the house.

I imagined what my first conversation with Essex would be like. The sound of his voice as we caught up on the last six years, and his reaction to having a son. I had not been privy to any updates from the Bell plantation and I wondered if he had news of Lovie or Aunt Hope. I was so wrapped up in my fantasy that I did not know that the Jailer had entered my room until he reached for my waist and lifted my dress.



* * *



It had been decided that the flogging would take place on Saturday. Just two days away. In preparation for the big event, the Jailer had people on the half acre busier than a moth in a mitten, stacking chairs, setting up tables, lugging liquor, prepping food, blowing up balloons, organizing games for the kids and instruments for the bandstand. The night before the flogging, he had decided to entertain his colleagues, local politicians, and important plantation owners. The tavern had been rearranged to allow women to attend more comfortably, and lounge chairs had been set in the right corner for them. I did not realize how many meals I had skipped until July fastened me into my evening gown and it hung as if I were wearing one of Elsie’s dresses. The Jailer did not seem to notice as we received his guests.

Silas and Corrina, David and Helen, and Hector and Anne arrived together. Sissy and the other girls worked the room with drinks and passed hors d’oeuvres. My assignment was split between being by the Jailer’s side and playing the piano. It was a blessing when he nodded for me to play. The women’s conversation eluded me as my head was focused only on seeing Essex.

When I took a break, Corrina came to me.

“You are extraordinary. You should be playing in concert halls.”

I dabbed at my brow. “Maybe in another lifetime.”

“How are the girls?”

“They are all fine. And your children?”

“Two are away at boarding school. The house seems empty without them, but I know it is for the best.”

I shifted from one foot to the other.

“Must be difficult managing with all the attention and traffic.”

I gave her a strained smile. As much as I adored Corrina, I knew that if I wanted to steal away to see Essex, time was of the essence. The Jailer sat in conversation with three men, and Sissy had just passed him a fresh drink. I had about twenty minutes before I would be missed.

“Speaking of which, I better run over to the house and check on them. My little Birdie has been nursing a cold.”

Corrina leaned into me. “If you ever need help with anything, please consider me a friend.”

We exchanged looks and I squeezed her hands before exiting through the side door. Two gentlemen smoked in front of the tavern but they had their backs to me. My thoughts of getting to Essex were so loud that I could not hear the dogs barking in the distance. As I turned the corner, I collided with someone in the dark. He put his hands around my arms to keep me from falling.

“Miss Pheby, you all right?”

It was Tommy.

“Yes.”

“Marse sent me to fetch you. He wants to introduce you to a friend.”

I dusted my sweaty palms against my dress and then followed Tommy back into the tavern, where I stayed for the remainder of the night.



* * *



The summer heat had made sleeping with the windows closed unbearable. On the morning of the flogging, I woke in a pool of sweat. I could not conceive how Essex was faring at the top of the jail in such a small holding space. When I turned to rise, the Jailer entered my room fully groomed.

“Wear your finest dress and jewelry that reflects your status as mistress of the jail. The children should also look their best.”

I bolted up. “Honey? Might we leave the children in the drawing room? I fear the blood might give them nightmares, especially Hester.” I evoked the name of his pet in hopes of gaining favor. He looked at me and then sucked on his tooth.

“Very well. Have July stay with them.”

I waited for him to shut the door behind him before I threw back my covers. It was one thing for him to see me in the night, but quite indecent for him to see me undressed during daylight hours. When I arrived at breakfast, he had a morning ale with his potatoes, bacon, and biscuit. My hands shook as I clung to my teacup.

“Today feels like my birthday.”

I forced a smile but my insides turned over on my lap.

By nine o’clock, I did not see a cloud that would provide an ounce of shade. The spectators had been gathering since seven, and the courtyard was nearly filled. Ladies carried umbrellas to shield themselves from the sun, and their house girls held onto picnic baskets with snacks, beverages, and lunch. Most of the workers squatted on the cobblestones. Some had small sheets to sit on; others were forced to sit on the hot gravel. This performance of showing off his power by the Jailer was as much for them as it was to entertain their masters. It surprised me that so many owners had brought their children along with them, and I felt grateful that I was allowed to keep the girls away from the scene. It was bad enough that they lived on the half acre of the Lapier jail. God bless them if they had to also witness human flogging.