Or Give Me Death (9 page)

"They knows it. By the way you talk to me. You always tellin' Anne not to mind my stories."

"I'm mistress of the place now. Pa wants it that way." It was all I could think of to say.

"Well, of course you is, Miss Patsy!" Her tone was smooth as honey. "But you gots to give me authority with the children, else they don't listen and run wild."

Oh, it would be so easy to do as she wanted. But I would be giving in to her. Handing back the reins.

"You is tired," she said. "How long has it been since you worked on your linens for your dowry chest?"

The chest sat in a corner of the room, closed. It was a handsome piece of furniture. John had made it for me two years ago. I sighed. "I've been busy," I said.

"You always passed happy hours with that sewing," she reminded me.

I did not want to be reminded. "To what end? I may decide not to wed, anyway."

Her eyes went wide. "You not gonna marry that dear man who's out there knee-high in mud in your father's fields? Miss Patsy, is you feverish?"

"It's my business if I wed or not. Why should I? So I can end up like Mama?"

The yellow brown eyes lighted with understanding. She picked up some pillows from the settee and put them behind my head. She lighted the hearth and brought over a crewelwork footstool. She took off my shoes and put my feet on the stool. "You jus' need rest. Then your mind will clear. Didn't Pegg always take care of you?"

She was kneeling by the footstool. She started to rub my feet. "You depend on Pegg. On all of us. You all can't run this place without the Negroes, Miss Patsy. Your pa knows that."

I said nothing.

"You give me permission to tell the children the truth about their mama. An' I'll make it right with them. You be surprised at how much children understand."

She wanted her authority back. For this she would return the favor by taking the children in hand and explaining to them about Mama.

Whereas, I thought, I am tired and confused, and don't know what to do about Betsy wetting the bed, and Anne cutting her hair, and Will smoking, I am obliged to make use of this method to bring the household back to order.

"Are you the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter?" I asked.

She lowered her eyes. "Yes."

"I don't believe in that hogwash, but yes, if you can explain to the children about Mama, I would be beholden to you."

T
HAT NIGHT
, A
NNE SLIPPED
into my room and bed, when all the house was quiet. It had been a long time since she had so sought me out.

"To what do I owe the honor?" I asked.

"Don't scold, Patsy. All you do is scold these days. You're getting to be an old hen."

"Old hens often take chicks under their wings. Did you like it at the Hoopers'?"

"No. Mrs. Hooper is a frightful bore. All she talks about is her family name. And how she did for her niece Sarah, and now Sarah ran off with a savage. Is Jonathan Snead really a savage? He didn't look like one to me."

"He was adopted by a family in Williamsburg when he was a boy. And he went to the Brafferton School for Indians at the college. He's part Catawba. But he acquitted himself well in school and is to be an interpreter between colonial authorities and his tribe."

"Then why doesn't he let his tribe marry them?"

"I suppose it's Sarah. Mayhap she wants a Christian wedding."

"I'd like to run off with an Indian."

"I'm sure you would."

"What are you reading?"

"A book Mama said she was raised on. I want to see what she learned."

"Read some to me."

And so I did. "'Be careful in displaying your good sense. It will be thought you assume a superiority over the rest of the company.'"

"I don't understand," Anne said. "Isn't that what Pa is always telling us to have? Good sense?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Read more."

I did. "'Wit is the most dangerous talent a girl can possess.'" We giggled over that. And over the maxim that "love is never to begin on the woman's part."

Anne looked up at me. "Pegg told me and Will about Mama," she said.

I closed the book. "What did she tell?"

"That Mama's mind is in some other place. Someplace we can't go. And how she has the sight. And that's why we must leave her downstairs, so she can write down what is to come. But that we must leave her in peace."

"Yes, that's the right of it," I said.

"Could I visit her once in a while?"

"No. I don't think so. I think she must really have peace and quiet."

She nodded and snuggled closer to me, and for a while we captured again the old sisterly affection that I had long since thought was gone.

***

T
HE NEXT MORNING
while we were at breakfast, Pegg came into the dining room. "Miss Patsy, there's people at the front door." Then she looked at MyJohn. "That Sarah girl. The one what's run off from the Hoopers'. And the man she wif. They look to be in a bad way, Miss Patsy."

Anne jumped up. "I knew she'd come."

"Sit," I snapped.

She obeyed. "I'll see to it," MyJohn said. I went with him.

***

S
ARAH
H
ALLAM WAS TALL
and strongly built, with fine teeth, and hair the color of straw, and eyes so blue as to bewitch you. I envied her the fine jawline, the beautiful skin, and perfect nose. I envied her strength as she stood in our hallway that morning.

She was soaked through and shivering. Her skirt was muddy, her hair darkened with rainwater, her face drawn.

Behind her was Jonathan Snead, looking as handsome as ever, but sheepish and wet.

"Hello, you two. Come in!" MyJohn said. "Terrible weather." He sounded so hearty. As if we welcomed sought-after runaways to our door every day of the week.

"Don't you know the whole county's been looking for you?" I asked.

"We do," Sarah said. "Which is why we have hidden. Last night we took refuge in your barn. We hope you don't mind."

"Barn! Why didn't you come to the door?" asked MyJohn. "Mr. Henry would take on something terrible if he knew you stayed in the barn."

"If you're part Indian," Anne said to Jonathan, "why couldn't you make a lean-to in the woods and keep dry?"

"Anne!" I said sharply. "I told you to stay in the dining room." Then to Jonathan, "I'm sorry."

He smiled, showing beautiful white teeth. "So am I. Not that she said it, but because she's right. I've been too long away from my people," he told Anne. "I've lost the old ways."

***

I
ARRANGED FOR
Sarah to have a change of clothing, and MyJohn looked after Jonathan. Then we gave them breakfast.

They could scarce keep from holding hands at the table. Anne's eyes were bulging out of her head, watching them.

"We don't wish to make trouble for you all with your neighbors," Jonathan said, as he devoured the food. "Especially with Mrs. Hooper."

"There's not much we have to do to make trouble with the Hoopers," I assured them.

They told us how they'd been living, traveling from town to town, trying to get a minister to marry them.

"But all had seen the notice in the
Gazette,
" Jonathan said, "and bade me take Sarah back home."

She laughed. "My aunt wouldn't take me back now. I'm a ruined woman." And she clasped Jonathan's hand on the table.

"Are you really ruined?" Anne asked. I could tell she was delighted with the idea.

I shushed her.

"Is it because you got your clothes all wet?" she pushed. "Like happened to my doll one time when I left her out in the rain?"

Sarah smiled. "Yes, just like that, Anne," she said.

"Patsy," Anne looked at me. "Can't we give Sarah some new clothes so she isn't ruined anymore?"

I said yes, we could.

"Then we lost our horses," Jonathan went on. "They got away and likely went back to the Hoopers. Which I suppose my people would dishonor me for. And we've no place else to go, so we came here. We know your pa for a good man, Patsy."

"You're welcome to our hospitality," MyJohn said. "Mr. Henry is away, but he's due home soon."

"What we were thinking," Jonathan said slowly, "was that since your pa knows so many people, he could maybe persuade a minister to marry us."

I buttered some bread. "You both just make yourselves to home until you can ask him."

***

O
F COURSE, WHEN
Pa arrived home that evening, he went right to helping Sarah and Jonathan. He was scarce out of his wet cloak and muddy boots, but he sent a servant with a letter to his uncle, Reverend Henry, rector of St. Paul's.

"We'll have the wedding here, Patsy. In our parlor. Find a suitable gown for Sarah. Have Pegg and Silvy make up a wedding feast."

William pulled on Pa's sleeve. "Tell us about the flood," he begged.

He did so, at supper. "The James rose sixteen inches in one hour. On the Rappahannock, houses floated with the currents. People were on makeshift rafts and shouting for help. Wine casks, furniture, hogsheads of tobacco all floated away in the waters."

Betsy and William were openmouthed.

But Anne never took her eyes from Sarah and Jonathan.

After supper Pa slipped downstairs to see Mama. And when he came back up, I thought how pale he looked, how broken. But still, he played his violin for us in the front parlor. Handel and Vivaldi. Mama's favorites. As well as country tunes.

He told Sarah and Jonathan he was playing for them, but as I watched him I knew he was playing for Mama.

There were tears in his eyes.

"My pa taught himself to play when he was twelve," Anne whispered to Sarah. "He broke his collarbone and had nothing else to keep him busy."

Sarah whispered something back, but I couldn't hear it.

"He can play the lute and harpsichord, too," Anne boasted.

Pa could stay only two days. Then he had to attend an emergency session of the House of Burgesses, to help decide what to do about the great spring flood in the Tidewater and Piedmont regions.

***

B
ECAUSE SHE WAS
bigger than I was, the only gown I could find for Sarah was one of Mama's. Of course, Anne came right along after us as I opened the clothespress.

I showed Sarah all Mama's dresses and petticoats.

"Oh, I couldn't," she said.

"You can and you will. I want you to," I said.

She was happy with a sprigged muslin. But I gave her more to take with her: a striped petticoat, two clean chemises, two mobcaps, two crisp white aprons, a summer cloak, and stockings.

Then I brought her to my room, to my dowry chest, and gave her a set of clean, pressed linens. "Take them. I may not wed after all."

"Patsy! Why would you say such? Anyone can see how smitten MyJohn is with you."

I shook my head and looked at the floor, under which I thought I heard some voices. "There's your answer, down below," I said. "I don't want to come to such an end."

"Why should you? Patsy,
I
've seen your sadness. You're no longer the sprightly miss I met at all those assemblies."

"My mama's mad," I said. "And I fear that having her blood in my veins the same will happen to me."

"Might be you have your pa's blood?"

"No, it's a woman's malady." I looked at her. "Aren't you afraid of what marriage will bring?"

Her smile was serene. "No. We will face the challenges together."

"Oh, Sarah, how I esteem you! I'm so afraid."

We hugged. I envied her so, with her sureness and her love. And then I showed her the silk gown I had made for myself, which I'd showed no one.

"Shall you wear it?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said shyly. "It stands for something now that I don't quite understand. I won't, until after I wed. If I do. So then, in wearing it, I suppose I'd go against both Mama and Pa. I suppose that's what it stands for."

***

A
NNOUNCEMENT IN THE
Virginia Gazette:

Married: Two evenings past, at Scotchtown, the home of Mr. Patrick Henry, Jr., Miss Sarah Hallam, niece of Mr. and Mrs. Hooper of Hooper Run Plantation in Hanover County, and Mr. Jonathan Snead of this town. The mutual affection and similarity of disposition in this agreeable pair afford the strongest assurance of their enjoying the highest felicity in the nuptial state.

I helped write the announcement. Pa had called himself Patrick Henry, Jr., because that's the way he signed his name. It was out of respect for his uncle, the Reverend Patrick Henry, for whom he was named.

***

As R
EVEREND
H
ENRY
said the words over Sarah and Jonathan, I watched Pa's face. His head was down, so I couldn't see his eyes. What was he thinking?

I knew what I was thinking.

From belowstairs came some thumping. We paid no mind.

W
E WERE COLLECTING
clothing for the flood victims. Pa had sent a note around from the House of Burgesses. John was to get word to all our neighbors.

I was routing around in my brother's room for outgrown breeches when Silvy came to the door. "Miz Patsy? Your sister Anne? She been sneakin' down to see your mama."

Silvy did not always agree with Pegg, and she knew this was wrong enough to tell me. "How?" was all I could think to ask.

She shrugged. "By the door in the hall, Miz Patsy."

"No, I mean how has no one paid mind to this?"

"We been all busy wif the flood, Miz Patsy. YourJohn been gatherin' foodstuffs to send an' we all been helpin'."

"Yes." I sighed and stood up. "Is Anne all right?"

"Right as rain. And she say your mama talkin' sense to her, too."

How could that be? All Mama talked about to me was her wedding day. And needing frogs' legs for a cake.

"Send Anne to me," I said.

***

I
TRIED TO
recollect what Pa had said about me and Anne. That I must give her a superiority of understanding. There was nothing I felt I owned less of at the moment than understanding. Not even for myself.