Or Give Me Death (5 page)

The three of us settled to listen.

"I have decided that she must be put in some place. To be cared for. I do not want the children to see her like this."

"Where, Pa?" I asked.

"That depends on what intelligence you two have for me from Williamsburg."

"Sir, Ritsy and I found the asylum to be in disarray and filth. And Mr. Pelham lied to us," MyJohn said.

Pa raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

MyJohn explained. Pa listened and nodded.

"And after Patsy left," MyJohn added, "I asked him about food. He said it's mostly pease porridge and small beer."

"Thank you," Pa said. And then, "No, no, of course, we can't put her there. But where?"

Nobody answered. Pa was thinking out loud. "I've heard of a woman in Prince Edward County. But I wouldn't want her that far away."

"If," I ventured, "she could be kept somewhere here. On this place. Out of sight of the children. Then she could be well cared for."

He looked at me sternly, and I fell silent. "Now, where could I keep her here," he demanded, "that the children wouldn't see or hear her? You know they poke into every inch of this place."

"But the place is so big!" I pushed.

Please God, I prayed, let him come to it. Please.

He was pacing again. Then finally he did.

"The cellar," he said. "Didn't you tell me, Patsy, that Pegg confined her in the cellar?"

"In the dry well," I said. "But it's freezing in there, Pa, though there are other rooms."

"I know that." He was still stern. "We could possibly put her there, cared for by Pegg."

"She hates Pegg," John put in.

I poked him in the ribs with my elbow, but Pa waved that problem off. "That's today. Tomorrow she'll hate someone else." He stopped pacing. "So it's what we'll do, then. MyJohn, John, come with me there now. I'll have to leave directions for you. For what is needed to make a room commodious enough for her. Then I'll have to count on you to fix it up."

They started out of the room. "Patsy, you've done enough." Pa turned to me. "Go to bed, child. You look spent."

Before I took myself off to my room, I checked on Mama. She was sleeping peacefully.

In the hall I found Pegg, locking up for the night. "Fetch me some hot water, cream, and sugar," I directed. "I wish to give Mama another cup of tea."

I went to my chamber and bent over little Edward in his cradle. He'd stay with me tonight. He was wide-awake and smiled at me. Oh, such a beautiful child! What would become of him, I wondered. Why, MyJohn and I would raise him as our own!

I prepared for bed, then sat by a lone candle for a while and tried to read my Bible. Pegg knocked and came in with the tray.

"You wants me to bring it to her?"

"No," I said. "She won't have you about her right now. Says you're about to poison her."

Pegg set the tray down. "How she come to that, your mama? I been servin' her fer years. I one o' the Negroes her daddy gave her when she wed."

"I know that," I said. "She's sick in the mind, Pegg. Don't take on so."

She left. And I poured the tea and fixed it the way I liked it and sat back in bed, savoring the flavor. But the full joy of it was lost thinking on Mama.

Up until now everything had been coming at me too fast, like an Indian arrow, straight and true. But now the truth had struck about her, and the wound was starting to bleed.

Mama might never be right again. She might, forever, be in our cellar, ranting about Indian attacks, the Negroes trying to poison us, and telling me who had died.

How could this be?

She had always been soft-spoken and regal, loving and gentle. With Pa away so much, she was the only one we had to turn to.

She liked to make tarts and fill them with jams. Once Pa became a famous lawyer, she could have sat on her tuffet and eaten curds and whey, as the nursery rhyme went. Stayed out of the kitchen. But no, she went on, baking her favorite things, sewing, even running outside and playing with the children.

What had happened, then? People's mamas didn't just start drowning their babies and throwing things and making predictions.

What would I do without my mama on my wedding day? How could I not look to her, when she was still alive?

I put the Bible aside. I could not pray. I did not know if I could ever pray again.

I blew out the candles and rolled myself into a ball of misery. It wasn't until I was dozing off did I remember the tea. And mind that I'd not become sick from it.

I almost wished that I would become sick this night. I fell asleep praying that I would, to a God I no longer knew was there. Because if I did, then it would mean Mama was not mad, after all.

I
DID NOT GET
sick. Though I overslept the next morning. I stood, muddleheaded and gaping at Edward's empty cradle. Fear gripped me, and my head started to throb as I reached for a wrap and ran down the hall to the dining room, where my family was assembled at the table.

"Edward's missing!" I croaked.

I must have looked like an apparition. Like Anne Skipwith, who walked at night in Mr. Wythe's house. I saw MyJohn's eyes go over me. I wondered if I'd leave a cold spot on the floor.

"Delia had her baby during the night," Pa said. "Edward's been taken down to the quarters for nursing."

Of course! I mumbled something about being right back and went to my room to dress. My head felt as if it were filled with cotton. I was benumbed. But I dressed quickly and went back to the dining room.

Anne was about to tell a story. Everyone waited. Pa encouraged the children to speak at meals.

Anne's eyes were sparkling. "It's about divine vengeance," she said importantly.

"Ah, we all could do with a little divine vengeance at breakfast," Pa said. "What better way to start the day?"

I sat down and breathed in the aroma from my coffee as Pegg poured it from over my shoulder.

"It happened late last week over to the Parsons.' Their son Richard was playing at cards in Raleigh Tavern. He wished that if he did not win the next hand his flesh might rot and his eyes never shut."

I took the plate of food that Pegg handed me and saw the approving look on her face as Anne recited her tale.

"Well, he didn't win the game. When he was going to bed he saw a black spot on his leg. Soon the mortification spread all over his body. He died in two days. All his flesh rotted. And nobody could shut his eyes."

"Shameful," I snapped. "Pa, how can you encourage her in such nonsense?"

"It's true," Anne shot back at me.

"Then why wasn't the obituary in the
Gazette?
"

"It's going to be. Soon."

"I just saw Clementina Rind. She said nothing about it."

"Does she tell you everything?" Anne asked haughtily.

"And where did you hear it, then?"

"Pegg told me."

"Pa!" I appealed. "You've got to stop her from lingering about with Pegg. She picks up the most terrible backwoods tales and ghost stories."

"The children need all the attention they can get these days, Patsy," Pa said. "I'm beholden to Pegg for the time she gives her. I'll always love my uncle Langloo for what he taught me about the woods."

Pegg isn't Uncle Langloo, I thought, but there was no moving Pa once he gave judgment on something. Besides, I'd slept late and been shrewish. That put me out of favor with Pa right off.

"You ought to sit in your mother's place at the table, Patsy," he said to me. His blue eyes found mine, and were level and brooked no argument. He knew me well enough to mind that I wouldn't want to do this. He was punishing me for my impatience with Anne.

I looked at my plate. "I can't."

"I need you to be mistress of the place when I'm gone. If you don't act like a mistress, the Negroes won't obey you."

Across the table we glared at each other. I'd gone up against Pa in the past. But never won. Few did, much less a woman. Everyone fell silent. Then MyJohn got up, went to Mama's chair, and pulled it out for me. Tears came to my eyes, and I took my plate and cup and sat at the head of the table, the other end from Pa.

"It isn't right," I said.

"Many things aren't," Pa agreed. "But we do what we must to keep our lives going. Step-by-step, every day." Then he looked at John. "When your tutor comes, you will have lessons as usual. Afterwards William and Anne will have theirs. It is important that we keep things as normal as possible. I leave after our noon repast, for Chesterfield County. I'll be back before the week is up. And you younger ones are to obey Patsy and MyJohn in everything while I'm away. Am I clear spoken?"

"Yes, Pa," they said in unison.

"I think good Dr. Hinde is riding up the road now. He's going to see to your mama. Stay, stay," he told us. "Remember, keep things as normal as possible. Your mama wants it that way."

***

I
N LESS THAN
an hour Pa and Dr. Hinde came out of Mama's chamber.

"Miss Patsy." The doctor took my hand in his own. I knew him to be a man of good parts, a father himself, and a friend of Pa's. "Miss Patsy, I am afraid that your mother has taken up residence in her mind in some place that is far from here. Let us hope that it is a good place."

We needed a visit from him to inform us of this? Or did Pa need it, to convince himself he was doing everything he could?

"It is always worse for those who must care for the person. But we must accept it as God's will. Your father's idea of confining her to the cellar with a Negro to care for her is sound and wise. In His own time God will bring her home."

I sniffed and nodded.

"Now, I know some doctors would bleed her to rid her of the bilious humors in her body, but I will not I have left some laudanum for when she is, shall we say, unmanageable. And Jesuit's bark in the event of fever."

Then he walked outside to his horse, untied it, and stood talking in a low tone with Pa. He mounted and, with a lift of his hat to me, was off.

Only then did I notice Pa's horse being brought around by Barley, the saddlebags already attached.

"You're leaving? Before the noon meal?"

He did not look at me. "I must go, Patsy. The ride is long."

"You always must go." I knew I sounded petulant, but I didn't care.

"It's what I do, Patsy. We need the money."

"Pa, you charged ninety-four fees last year. And you're well on your way to doing better this year."

"You keep track of my cases now?"

"We need you here. The children need you, if only for another hour or so."

"It's more than money, Patsy. People need me. Virginia needs me."

"Mama needs you," I said.

He was fussing with the cinch on his saddle while Barley held the horse by the bridle. He dismissed Barley, then turned to me. "Don't ever argue with me in front of the servants," he said.

I knew I was wrong, but I said nothing.

"You're contentious this morning. I meant to speak to you about your manner with your sister. You are getting too severe with her."

"Pa! Anne is the contentious one! She won't come for lessons! She roams about all day like a savage, and when she isn't doing that, she's in the kitchen with Pegg, learning the old Negro religion, all superstition and blood. She's sassy and disobedient, and she vexes me whenever she can."

He eyed me. "I thought you and your sister got on uncommon well. All that talk of books and poetry you had between you."

"She's changed."

"Children do. You are the elder. You must give her good example. She has no polite education. I depend on you to teach her innocence and propriety."

"Pa, Anne has as much of that as a water moccasin."

"Which is why you must give her a superiority of understanding. If you expect her to please you, you must appear pleased with her. Don't concern yourself with harmless trifles. She'll come round. I'm depending on you, Patsy."

And who do I depend on? I wondered. My eyes filled with tears.

"You have authority over her because I give it to you," he said. "Authority corrupts, like power. In this instance it will corrupt you, Patsy. It's you I am concerned with."

Oh, he could turn things so his argument always appeared palatable!

"I drank the tea," I told him. "Some of Mama's tea."

He scowled. "I thought we agreed on no tea in this household. I count on you to give good example."

"I drank it because I had to know if Mama was right, if Pegg was poisoning her."

His eyes widened. "Foolish girl," he said. But gently, and in admiration. And I needed that from him now. "You could have become sick."

"I wished for it, Pa. I wished to become sick. It would have meant Mama was not going mad."

He fussed with the cinch again. "You heard the doctor. What's wrong with your mother is not confined to a teacup. And cannot be bled from her."

I did not tell him about my other cup of tea. I never would. "Pa, there's something else."

He waited.

"I want to marry MyJohn."

"You are to wed him."

"I mean sooner than we planned. So he can live here with us. It's more important than ever."

Now he commenced to pick up his horse's hooves, one by one, to examine them. "No, Patsy," he said as he set down the first hoof. "You're too young."

"Mama was wed at sixteen. You were eighteen."

He picked up the second hoof. "Do you think I'm not sensible of the fact that our youthful marriage is a goodly part of what has happened to your mother?"

"Pa, don't say that."

"I shouldn't have to." The third hoof was examined. "Surely, you've watched her over the years, working, sacrificing, bearing children, and being alone with them in my absence."

The fourth hoof. "Some women can remain serene and peaceful in their families. Others need amusing books, plays, balls, assemblies."

"Mama never needed those things."

"How do we know? Because of a youthful marriage and motherhood, she never had them! No, Patsy. Marriage means children, responsibility. You need more time to be young. To enjoy the balls, the routs, the assemblies."

"I'm past that, Pa."