Yellow Wife(81)

The newly freed men, women, and children cheered on the Union troops as they entered the city, and then paraded in their finest attire down to the State Capitol to celebrate this most blessed victory. Oh, how I wanted to march alongside them.

As I am sure you can imagine, the slaves’ freedom caused distress and chaos for most owners. Your father became desperate to keep his source of wealth and tried to flee with a coffle of fifty people. When he got to Danville depot he was denied entry onto an already crowded train heading south, and was forced to free his captives on the spot. He never recovered from the loss.

And so, sweet daughter, it is with a heavy heart that I inform you that your father passed away on October 25, 1866. Officially, he died of an attack of cholera, which held on to him for ten days. Though I think he died of heartbreak, as a result of the war. The Richmond Examiner was very kind in his obituary, describing him as “an honest man.” I have included the clipping for you.

Darling, do you remember Reverend Nathaniel Colver, who would come down from Boston to speak at the Free African Church? He has returned to Richmond to establish a school to educate and train the freed men for the Baptist ministry. Your father, in his will, left the Lapier jail and what little remained of his fortune to me. And so I leased the property to Reverend Colver for three years. I needed to do something redemptive with the property where so many had suffered. The irons and cuffs from the floor have been removed and replaced with desks and chairs. The jail has shed its awful nickname Devil’s Half Acre and is now called God’s Half Acre. Praise be!

My dear Hester, always know that I am very proud of you and your sisters, and my heart is comforted by the fact that the three of you are safe in Massachusetts, getting the education my mother so longed for me to get and that I so wanted for myself, even if it entails you passing as white women to do so. Know that every decision that I have made has been for the betterment of my children, and I regret nothing. Remember you are free. Free to choose. Free to live. Free to love. And your freedom will be even more expansive if you continue in your new world without looking back. Your lineage of being born to a mulatto mother and a father who owned and operated a jail is of no consequence for the life you are living, so carry these secrets to your grave. Renaming you with my father’s surname, Bell, will continue to provide distance, and I trust that you, Isabel, and Joan will do well because of it. Birdie, on the other hand, has declared that she will never join you in Massachusetts, never join you and your sisters in turning her back on her history. At ten years old, she has become quite active in teaching freed children how to read. Such a wise girl already with an incredible heart, she says it is her mission from God to educate those who have suffered under the irons of slavery. Even though she has not responded to any of your letters, please keep her in your prayers as she sets about to right the world.

My mother could not even imagine the life you are living, so please do not risk it with your sentiments. Burn this letter after you have read it. It is for your safety. You do not need proof of me for I am always in your heart.

With love and affection,

Pheby Delores Brown

February 2, 1874

Ipswich, Massachusetts

Dear Mother,

Thank you so much for sending the purse. My wedding was extraordinary and beautiful in every way. I kept to the story that you were much too ill to travel. It was a lovely day, and I wish that circumstances were different so that you could have experienced it with me, but I understand the gravity of what is at stake. My John is a fine husband, and has taken care of me in every way. There is nothing that I want for, and he is extremely kindhearted and generous. Isabel and Joan have grown into utter beauties, though Joan keeps reminding me that she wants to be known for her brains, not her beauty. She has become quite the writer and is teaching at a nearby school. Isabel is being courted by a very well-off lad in his final year of law school. They seem to be a suitable match, and every day we await his proposal.

I have enclosed my wedding announcement that ran in the newspaper. You will not believe this, but a few days after the announcement ran, I saw Monroe on the street. Yes, our Monty! We pretended to be strangers meeting at a vegetable stand. He managed to slip me a note asking me to meet him at a church on the edge of town the following morning. I went under the disguise of helping Joan with her students, and it warmed my heart to see him. Mother, you would not recognize him. Tall and extremely handsome. He told me things that I did not know. Even though we both grew up on the Half Acre, our experiences were very different, and I apologized for the beating I caused him over that silly hide-the-puppet game. Monroe, still good-natured, laughed it off. He has taken a wife and they have two children, Robert and Mary. Mother, I did not know that the fugitive, Essex Henry, who lived on top of the jail was Monroe’s father and your great love. The secrets you keep! And I never knew that it was you who freed them all. What I do remember is you falling ill for weeks after the fire at the jail, and fearing you would not recover. It was because of our faithful prayers that your health was restored. Glory be!

Mother, I also regret to be the bearer of bad news, but according to Monroe, Essex Henry died in Canada of tuberculosis. Monroe said he only had a few years with his father, but they were good years. First in Ohio and then settling in St. Catharine’s, Ontario, where Monroe resides now. Speaking of lost, I think of July every single day. Still no word from her?

Now that I have married and moved into my husband’s home, I agree that our correspondences are even more dangerous. I have not taken your advice and burned your previous letters, as they are all I have of you. Like you with your mother’s recipes, I will hide them, along with the extra purse, as you have instructed, for an emergency. I send all my love, and please tell Birdie that we miss her dearly. Even though she refuses to forgive us for living as white women, nor responds to our letters, we each pray for her daily. I wish she was not so stubborn about giving up her identity and joining us in Ipswich, but I do understand that it is her choice to remain by your side. Please know that you are both in my heart always, and that I pray for your good health and happiness daily. Isabel and Joan send their love.