Yellow Wife(65)

She closed her trunk. I looked over my shoulder to make sure that we were alone, then took a few steps closer to her.

“Hilda, I need a small favor.”

A look of concern crossed her face.

“It is small. Just a letter that needs to be posted. Would you do it for me on your way back to the shop?”

“Does Mr. Lapier know about this?”

“Well, no. It is a surprise for him. An inquiry for his birthday.”

She removed the pins.

“Of course, there is something in it for you.” I produced a small purse from my pocket and handed it to her. When she did not deny me, I put the letter in her other hand. She dropped the envelope and purse into her larger bag. A sense of relief drifted down my spine.

“Please see that this stays between us.”

She nodded.

“When will the dresses be ready?”

“In a few weeks. I will be in touch.” She moved from the room with her large trunk trailing behind her. I hugged myself to celebrate my good fortune.



* * *



Once I got the girls settled in their afternoon play, I left in search of Monroe. I found him in the stables sitting atop a pile of hay.

“Mama! Tommy teaching me how to change the horse’s shoe.”

“Is he catching on?” I kidded.

“He a natural, Miss Pheby.” Tommy’s body had caught up with the size of his head.

“I need to borrow Monroe for just a few minutes.”

My son dusted off his knickers and fell in step next to me. Just a few weeks ago, he’d run and jumped when he saw me. Since the Jailer had taken him off the half acre, he had become cautious in my presence. More subdued.

“Where we going?”

“Where are we going?” I corrected gently.

He repeated my sentence.

“To help Sissy move a few things.” I turned my face so he could not see my lie. We climbed the outside steps that led to the top floor of the tavern.

“It stink bad over here.” He touched his nose.

“It is coming from the jail.” I held my breath too.

“Is that where the prisoner is?” He pointed to the garret room.

“Yes.”

“Marse whip him real bad? Hope I never get whipped like that. Tommy show me his scars.”

“I will protect you always. Do not worry, son.” I kissed the top of his head and immediately felt shame. Deep down, I knew that when it came to the Jailer’s will, my promises were just dust.

We stopped in front of Sissy’s door, and I hoped that she was not there. I knocked, then coughed. A shadow moved toward the window of the garret room. Essex had to be standing on tiptoe to peek out the high window, because all I could see was his forehead and eyes, and the bridge of his nose.

“Mama, you okay?”

“Yes.”

Essex’s chains clashed together as he moved closer and his eyes fastened on Monroe.

“Do you know him?”

“Why do you ask?”

“He is looking at you. Better not let Marse catch him.” He grabbed my hand. “Sissy not home. We better go.”

I glanced back at Essex and nodded my head. I walked Monroe back to the stables. Sissy came from the kitchen house and stopped me.

“Miss Pheby, may I has a word?” Her smooth brown skin shone with oil, and her dress looked of good fabric.

“I have work to do.”

“Won’t take but a few seconds.”

I followed her to the spot behind the kitchen, between the two blackberry bushes.

“What is this about?” I cocked my head with impatience.

“I knows you sneakin’ to see the prisoner at night.”

I tore off a handful of berries and placed them in my mouth.

“I keep your secret from Marse, but you has to do somethin’ for me.” Sissy stepped closer. She smelled of licorice root. “When Daniel is old enough, wantin’ you to teach my boy how to read.”

“That is against the law.”

“Well, I knows you teachin’ Monroe.”

In that moment, I could see what the Jailer saw in her. The boldness. Accommodating her would be foolish, but denying her request could be too. It had been impossible for me to forget the day he’d forced me to watch the horrible whipping of the woman who had taught others to read. Him beating her until she lost her baby. It was one thing to teach July in secret; she was under the roof with me. Monroe was my son and worth the risk. I had no choice but to take my chances.

“Thank you for your concern, but there is nothing to be told.”

“Sure about that?” Her cat eyes caught the sun.

“Good day, Sissy.” I lifted my skirts and left with my head held high. Such a simple country girl. I could not let her believe for one second that she could intimidate me.

When I reached the drawing room, the girls’ tutor, Grace Marshall, was finishing up a lesson on addition. July was sitting guard with her knitting needles in her lap, absorbing the lesson as I had instructed her.

“The girls are doing very well. Hester has advanced to multiplication.” Grace showed me the problems that Hester had worked on her board. “Joan needs to practice words that sound the same but are spelled differently.” She gave me a list. I thanked her.