Queen (46 page)

    the stag party. There was a social vacuum in the land, and who better

    than the glorious Sarah to fill it, and transfer it here? She wasn't a

    Yankee, and she lived in Nashville, and visions of that city becoming the

    cultural capital of the nation filled many. matrons' hearts. Nashville

    was close to Memphis, Louisville and Lexington, and even New Orleans,

    close enough to all the new cities on the western side of the

    Appalachians, and Atlanta was not too far away. It was some distance to

    the coastal cities of Charleston and Savannah, of course, but it served

    them right, as many of the newly rich of Alabama and Mississippi found

    those cities to be insufferably elitist about position and money.

    That it was even farther from the large Northern cities, and half a

    continent frotn Boston, delighted them. Too often, they'd had to make the

    arduous journey to Washington or New York or Philadelphia for politically

    important social occasions, and now the supper would be on another table.

    Sarah's wedding, for no white thought of it as Alfred and Gracie's, was

    a chance to show the world the triumph of elegant Southern

    sophistication, and how well the niggers were treated, and if any of

    those niggers got uppity and forgot their place they'd get a good

    thrashing.

There were two reception lines in the garden, one for the whites and one

for the blacks. There were two of everything, one for the whites and one

for the blacks, and woe betide any nigger who crossed the line, although

any white could do so with impunity.

    Sally laughed as the Alabama Jacksons descended from their carriage and

    went to the receiving line.

    "I feel positively dowdy," she said, although she looked wonderful in the

    dark-blue taffeta gown, and probably knew it.

    MERGING 275

    There was surprisingly little confusion, for all knew their places. The

    white's were greeted by Sarah and Andrew junior. The slaves who had been

    invited were greeted by Alfred and Gracie, and the slaves who had not been

    invited but were attending their Massas and Missys were directed to the

    kitchen, where they would be fed. Easter was attending, not invited, but

    Alfred had specifically asked to meet her, so now she stood in the black

    receiving line with her father and gawked at all about her.

    Jass could see Lizzie already in the garden, for the Perkinses had been

    among the first to arrive, and she looked beautiful. He knew she'd seen him

    too, because she tossed her head and pretended she hadn't.

    "James-Sally-oh, thank God you came." He heard Sarah's laughing, lilting

    voice, was surprised to find they were at the head of the line. He'd been

    wondering if he should give Lizzie the freshwater pearls or save them for

    someone else.

    Sally was laughing too. "This is quite a hornet's nest you've stirred up,"

    she said to Andrew junior, and Sarah giggled again.

    "Don't blame me; this was all her idea," he said, and shook hands warmly

    with James.

    "Well, Alfred's been with your father for longer than anyone can remember,

    we had to make a fuss," Sarah said to her husband, and turned to Sally

    again. "Isn't it fun?"

    They knew Sassy, but not Jass. He was presented, and was fascinated by

    Sarah's bubbling personality and sense of humor, and suddenly Jass knew why

    she'd decided on such a celebration. She wanted fun; she wanted to make a

    little dent in a society that Jass already suspected could be smotheringly

    smug. For no reason, Jass laughed, and without knowing what he was laughing

    at, Sarah laughed with him. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,

    Jass thought, and cursed his fortune. If she were not older and married, he

    would have immediately given her his pearls. Moving away with his family,

    Jass caught sight of Easter cowering in the black receiving line, and

    laughed again, and told himself he was going to have a good time.

Easter couldn't bear the idea that she was about to meet the famous Alfred,

her father's dearest, perhaps his only, friend,

276 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

and right-hand man to the president. She tried to hide behind Cap'n Jack,

but to no avail.

    "This be Easter, Annie's girl," she heard her father say, pulling her

    forward. Easter caught a glimpse of a stem face appraising her, and sank

    into a deep curtsy.

"Chile's pretty," she heard him say.

    "Chile's scared!" Now it was a woman who spoke, a warm, welcoming voice.

    Easter looked up and saw that the woman standing next to the stern man

    was glaring at him and smiling at her, all at once.

    "An' no wonder, yo' starin' at her like yo' stare at me when I done

    summat' wrong. Here, girl, Easter, ain't it?"

    The woman helped her up. "I's Gracie," she said. "An' I's the one done

    fixin' to marry this gristly ol' turkey."

    Everyone laughed, and suddenly Easter wasn't shy anymore. "Yo' stan' by

    me," said Gracie, "and help me 'member the names a all these folk I ain't

    never met and ain't evuh gwine meet again."

    Easter was happy. She had a job to do; she wouldn't be left on her own

    as she had been at most of the other parties. She stood beside Gracie,

    glowing. If she wasn't exactly mistress of the mansion, she was in a

    position of some eminence.

    Alfred looked at her approvingly. "Chile's pretty," he said again to

    Cap'n Jack. "An' you stan' by me, Cap'n Jack, yo' my bes' man. "

Having been received, the guests assembled on the lawn. There were long

tables set out, groaning with food and punch, at one end, for the whites,

and other long tables, complaining rather than groaning, and with lemonade

not punch, at the other end, for the blacks.

    There was one band, but two dancing areas. The fiddlers struck up a tune,

    and the whites danced with the whites, the blacks danced with the blacks.

    Jass looked for Lizzie, who seemed to dance with every young man but him.

    Easter kept her eyes on Jass. Sally sat with Mrs. Perkins and some other

    friends on the sidelines, while James mingled with his many business

    associates.

    After an hour or so, the band took a break, and the slave choir assembled

    to sing spirituals for the guests while they ate.

    MERGING 277

    Listening to the sweet music as he was helping himself to some food,

    something puzzled Jass. It was silly that niggers don't have souls, he

    thought, yet they're encouraged to sing about heaven. But he was hungry,

    and the smell of spit-roasted hog distracted him.

    Easter was in line at the black table, piling her plate with food. Or

    rather, she was a fixture at the black table because she was bored again

    and the food tasted wonderful and eating helped pass the time. She was also

    enchanted by some of the conversations around her.

    "Why, this sho' am beautiful," said an elegantly dressed slave. "Sweetest

    chicken I evuh et," said another. Easter giggled, and suddenly she longed

    to be at home, in her simple house with her simple friends. This world was

    too complicated for her.

    "Ain't this the prettiest night?" she heard someone say, and knew who it

    was. Eyes wide, mouth full, she turned to Reuben.

    "But not as pretty as you," he said, and winked at her. Easter was shocked,

    not because he winked but because he winked at her. Surely he didn't think

    she was pretty?

    "Don't believe I evuh heard yo' name?" He really was very handsome, Easter

    decided.

    "My name is Easter," she said, in fair imitation of Lizzie. "And I am with

    the Jacksons."

    "My, my," Reuben said, suitably impressed. "The Nashville Jacksons, of

    course?"

    "Why, no," she said, pleased with herself. "Massa James Jackson of Alabama

    is my Massa, and I think I hear my Missy callin' me now."

    She walked away, feeling that she'd handled him a lot better this time, and

    went looking for Jass.

Who was looking at Lizzie. Sitting in a little arbor, surrounded by

enthusiastic young men of Jass's age, Lizzie looked wonderful. She seemed to

have grown up a little over the summer, and had taken particular care with

her dress for this occasion, palest blue, like her eyes, with elegant frills

in flowing muslin. She was handling her beaux with great aplomb, and Jass

decided he would not give her the pearls. They were not good

278 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

enough. That lovely neck demanded emeralds or rubies at least, if not

diamonds.

    "I declare, Miss Lizzie, you grow more lovely every time I see you," a

    pimply young man said to her.

    "Why, thank you, Chester. You must be nearly old enough to shave by now."

    Lizzie simpered like lemon.

    Chester blushed, and the others laughed. Another young man stepped up to

    her execution block.

    "I've been shaving for years now, Miss Lizzie," he said in his deepest

    voice.

    "Then you should try to grow a mustache, Anthony," Lizzie purred. "it

    might make you look a little older."

    The others laughed at Anthony now, led by Chester. Lizzie looked around

    for another victim and saw Jass.

"Is that the Jackson boy I see over there?"

Jass sprang forward. "Yes, Miss Lizzie," he offered.

    "Fetch me a little more chicken," Lizzie hardly looked at him, and waved

    her empty plate in the air. Jass grabbed it.

    "I'd be delighted, Miss Lizzie, if you'll save a place for me on your

    dance card tomorrow." Jass had decided to bargain.

    "Why, sir, I told you, my card is full." Lizzie was better at haggling,

    and sighed and looked helpless. "But I would die for a little more

    chicken."

    Jass had no counteroffer, and capitulated. "Right away, Miss Lizzie," he

    said, and turned toward the food table.

    "An uppity boy, but useful," Lizzie told her swains, and they all laughed

    at Jass now.

    As Jass piled chicken on Lizzie's plate, Easter, who had overheard

    Lizzie's last remark, sidled up to him.

    "Why yo' wastin' yo' time with her?" she demanded. "She's jus' playin'

    with yo', laughing at yo'."

    Jass looked at her, and, his vision blurred by the heady company, he saw

    only a bothersome slave girl in a cheap frock. She had no place in this

    world, his world. She had no idea of the complex forces that were driving

    him to a friendship, at least, with Lizzie, and perhaps something more.

    How could he make her understand? He didn't understand it all himself.

    "Keep your place, Easter," he told her sharply. "You're too young, you

    wouldn't understand."

    MERGING 279

He walked away. If they'd been in the weaving house, Easter might have hit

him, or at least put a double dose of iodine on his cuts, but they were

here, in public, and anyway, things had changed between them. She had

never seen that look in his eyes before, and it frightened her, because

she saw she was irrelevant to him. She had been reminded, by him, of her

true place in his life, and it hurt.

    The band had started to play again, and couples were dancing. Easter

    wandered on the edge of it, longing for some young man, preferably Jass,

    to come along and sweep her onto the dance floor. A young man did, but

    it wasn't Jass.

    "May I have the honor?" Reuben asked, offering his arm. Easter hesitated

    for only a moment.

    "Why, suh, I believe yo' may," she said, and smiled her most dazzling

    smile. He led her onto the dance floor, and they danced and danced, and

    Easter put aside her cares and had a wonderful time, although she had on

    one occasion to tell Reuben very sharply to keep his hands where they

    belonged. But she could not rid her mind of Jass.

Almost everybody had a good time that night, except James. He had been in

a party mood, looking forward to an evening of fun and laughter, a little

too much to drink, a few dances with Sally, and good talk with friends and

associates.

    He'd had fun at the beginning, and laughed a good deal. He'd danced with

    Sally and had drunk a little too much. Perhaps because of the drink, the

    talks with his male friends depressed him.

    It was only natural, he supposed, that the most frequent topic of

    conversation was Andrew. It was Andrew's house, Andrew's slave who was

    getting married, and Andrew's party in absentia, but there was more.

    Andrew strode through all their lives like a colossus, and gave the

    younger men a sense of what it must have been like in the glory days of

    the Revolutionary War, which some of the older men present remembered,

    and the War of 1812, which younger men could recall. It was Andrew who