The Kitchen House (43 page)

“Where’s Ida?” I asked, trying to wake myself.

“She sick,” Fanny said.

“You go,” I said. “I’ll stay with Miss Martha.”

“Mama say she want you,” Fanny said, “she say this a hard baby comin’.”

I dressed reluctantly. Papa George met me at the back door and gave me his arm, then led our way with a lantern. From the kitchen house, I heard Beattie call out. Still holding on to my resentment, and angry that this task had fallen to me, I would have walked slower had Papa not pulled me along.

My cold attitude did not remain for long. Mama had Beattie up and walking, and when I saw Beattie’s distress, I threw off my wrap and went to give her my assistance.

“Hold her up and help her walk,” Mama said.

“Lean on me, Bea,” I said. I took her arm securely, and with her face contorted in pain, she looked at me. “I so sorry for this, Miss Abinia,” she said.

“Hush, Bea,” I said, but another contraction pulled her back into such pain that I wasn’t sure she heard me.

In the early morning, when the baby came, all three of us were exhausted but jubilant at our success. I felt nothing but deep relief when Mama handed the little brown boy to Beattie.

The new mother slept while Mama Mae and I prepared a morning meal. When Mama took it up to the big house, I stayed, holding the baby, stroking its soft face until Beattie awoke. I placed the babe in her outstretched arms, and we laughed when he scrunched up his tiny face. She spoke while looking down at him. “I so sorry for makin’ this trouble for you,” she said.

I shushed her. She reached for my hand and kissed it. In return, I kissed hers. I did not tell this childhood friend that while she was giving birth, I had seen for myself the marks on her body. I needed no further convincing that she was the hapless victim of my husband, and I felt deep sorrow that I had added to her troubles.

I stayed while she fed her baby, then I sat with them while they slept. Sitting there in the warmth of my childhood home, I became determined to set things right.

M
Y HEART POUNDED, BUT MY
voice was calm when I spoke with Marshall at dinner the following afternoon. “Beattie had a very difficult time of it,” I said.

He flushed but did not look at me.

“She needs time to recover,” I said. He rose, and I stiffened, fully prepared for an outburst, but he left the room without comment.

W
HEN THE WEATHER TOOK A
warm turn in the middle of January, Marshall unexpectedly left on business for the day. With courage derived from opium, and fueled by a desire to see Will, I decided to take this opportunity to deliver the freedom papers to Belle. I took Sukey into my confidence, as I knew she would not allow me to leave without explanation. “I need you to stay back, but I must go to see Belle,” I said.

“Why?” she asked. “Why do you have to see Belle?”

“I found papers,” I whispered.

“What kind of papers?” she whispered back.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” I said, “but you must promise to keep this a secret.”

“I will.” She nodded. I trusted her as I did no other.

Papa and I argued when I insisted that he saddle Barney. He guessed immediately where I was going. The weather wasn’t stable, he said, and we had no idea when Marshall would return. Besides, he told me, Rankin was more likely to come down to the barn during the winter season. I dared not tell Papa of Belle’s papers, nor of my need to see Will. I stubbornly held my ground. In spite of the grim look on his face, I insisted that he do as I asked, then I rode off at a gallop. I did not turn back to wave; instead, my hand felt for the package that Sukey and I had bound against my breast.

I was almost halfway there before I dared to slow my horse to a walk. It was then, from behind me, that I heard the neigh of another horse. I reined Barney in and turned to face the oncoming rider. Of course it was Rankin.

“Well, Mrs. Pyke,” he said, “I was hoping that I might catch up to you. I was wondering where you were going at such a speed, but now that we are near his house, I’m not wondering no more.” He smiled. “Will Stephens is quite a friend of yours, isn’t he?” When I did not answer, he reached for the reins of my
horse and turned us toward home. “You know your husband don’t want you out here.”

I cracked my whip smartly across his wrist. Barney, responding to the crop, jumped ahead, and I gave him his rein when he headed for home.

I
WAS READY FOR MY
husband when he came to my room that evening. At my request, Fanny had taken Elly to the nursery for the night. Sukey refused to leave my side, so she and I sat playing cards. When I heard Marshall’s footsteps on the stairs, my hands began to tremble. Sukey whispered, “Don’t worry, Miss Abby, I’m staying here with you.”

“Please go, stay with Mama,” I whispered, but she shook her head. When Marshall entered, Sukey rose, as was the order. Marshall strode over to me and slapped my face. Sukey gasped.

“Where were you going?” he asked.

I kept my eyes down. “I went out for a ride.”

This time the force of his slap threw me from the chair. He came at me again, and before I could prevent it, Sukey charged him. She bit deep into his arm, and Marshall yelled a profanity as he threw her from him. To my great surprise and relief, he abruptly left the room. Sukey and I were comforting each other when Marshall returned with Papa George.

“Take her,” Marshall said, waving toward Sukey. “Get rid of her!”

“No,” I pleaded, holding Sukey to me. “Please, Marshall, she did nothing wrong.”

“You let your nigra bite me, and you say she did nothing wrong!” he shouted.

“She was only trying to stop you.”

“Stop me? Stop me!” He turned to Papa, who was standing back at the door. “George, I said get in here and take her out!” he said. Sukey’s arms were locked around me, but Marshall ripped her away and tossed her at Papa George. “Get her out of here!”

Papa’s eyes flamed, and his body shook, and for one terrible
moment I thought that he might refuse Marshall’s command. Yet he contained himself, and with an uncommon gentleness, he convinced Sukey to come with him.

I fell to my knees after they left. “Marshall! Please! Please! Don’t harm her. Where will you send her?”

“She will go to the quarters, where she belongs.”

“But what about Elly?” I pleaded, trying another approach. “She is so attached to her.”

“Elly has others to care for her,” he said.

“But Sukey’s never lived down there, it will be too hard on her!”

“This is all your doing, Lavinia,” he said. “You dare to embarrass me! You go to meet another man!”

Still on my kness, I begged him. “Please, Marshall. Punish me, not Sukey. Don’t take her from me. She’s like my own child.”

He kicked at me. “Get up! You disgust me! The titles you give these nigras. You say she’s like your child. You call them Papa and Mama like they’re kin to you! More of this and I will rid you of them all.”

After he left the room, I ran to the window. Blackness loomed up and prevented me from seeing out. The house was quiet; no one dared stir. I locked my door before I went to my tall linen press. Shaking, I unwrapped Belle’s papers from my bodice. When I hid them on the top shelf, I placed them behind the hatbox that held the laudanum bottles. After little deliberation, I poured a generous amount of the black liquid into my sherry glass, drank it, and waited for it to quiet me.

I
N THE MORNING
, M
AMA WHISPERED
to me that Sukey hd been taken to Ida’s cabin and forbidden to bring any of her belongings. Everyone was warned that if they helped me contact her, they would be sold immediately. I remembered well the warning Marshall had given me. If he would take Sukey away from me, I did not doubt he would remove any of the others. After that, I dared not question anyone about Sukey.

Desperate, I wrote to Mr. Madden, then remembered that Marshall was sure to intercept all of my correspondence, so I burned the letter later that night.

Over the next weeks, I went to Marshall on two separate occasions to plead my case. On my first approach, Marshall warned me to let the subject go. The second time, I again implored him to change his mind. He laughed bitterly at my attachment to Sukey, calling her my long-lost child. Who was her daddy? he asked. Reckless in my desperation, I slapped him. I demanded that I be allowed to see her. He looked at me through eyes that I did not recognize. The next afternoon he sent Mama to tell me that Sukey had been sold. Mama’s eyes were swollen and her face contorted when she gave me the news.

“I supposed to tell you that Sukey gone.”

“Gone where?” I wailed.

“She been sold.”

“No, Mama! No! Not Sukey, Mama! Not Sukey!” I cried. But Mama was as grief-stricken as I, and she looked at me helplessly while tears streamed down her face. I ran to the window. Surely there was still time.

“They took her durin’ the night. She gone,” Mama said.

I stared at Mama, not willing to believe her.

She came close to whisper in my ear. “Miss Abinia, I got to go downstairs. Masta Marshall waitin’ on me.”

“For what, Mama?” I asked.

“He say he don’t want me babyin’ you no more. He say if I do, he gonna sell me next.” Her frightened face told me that she did not see this as an idle threat. I stared after her as she left the room. A wooden chair that stood against the wall felt weightless when I picked it up. I smashed it against the bed with such force that both the bedpost and the chair shattered. Still I continued to batter away. When nothing was left in my hands, I sank to the floor and gave way to my grief.

F
OLLOWING THE SALE OF
S
UKEY
, I refused to go to the dining room for my meals, and Marshall did not send for me. We did not see each other, as I stayed upstairs when I knew he was about.

Marshall had driven home his point. Everyone was afraid. After the sale of Sukey, no one felt safe. I felt that my whole family blamed me for her exile, and why would they not? I was responsible. Furthermore, I was terrified that Marshall would misinterpret any exchange I had with them, so I kept any conversation brief. I grieved for Sukey as I had no other, and ashamed of my part in the matter, I closed myself off from any consolation my family might have offered.

In complete despair, I relied heavily on the laudanum; soon I depended on it to function. I had already discovered that the drug was not difficult to obtain; it was easily ordered by mail. Every morning, dissolved in a glass of water, a few drops dulled my reality. Hours later, when exhaustion overtook me, another dose with wine gave me a boost to help me finish out the day. In the evening, alone in my room, I schemed. I would leave, find Sukey, and help her to escape. Late into the night, I drew maps of the woods as I remembered them, planning our route, only to burn them for fear of Marshall’s discovery. When sleep eluded me, a heavier dose of opium carried me into sleep. I continued this way, believing the opiate my friend, while its ever tightening arms wrapped around me.

During that time Marshall continued on with Beattie, though he found other diversions as well: He began to bet on the horses, and he developed a passion for cardplaying.

Fanny let me know that he sold people from the quarters to pay off debts. Meg wrote, and I ignored her pleas for communication. As my need for laudanum took over, I felt more helpless than ever, and with each passing year, I burrowed deeper into oblivion. I scarcely wept when Mama told me that Will Stephens had married.

1810

Belle

I
T’S FIVE YEARS THAT
S
UKEY’S
gone.

In that time, Beattie gets two more boys from Marshall. She got him figured out, and now he spends more time in the kitchen house than he does in the big house. Mama says if Marshall cares about anybody, it’s Beattie. Beattie says he don’t hardly even get on her no more. He just comes to sleep. Sometimes, she says, he even plays with the babies. Most times, though, he’s too drunk to know where he’s at.