Yellow Crocus (25 page)

That night she refused to come downstairs to supper, so Emily brought parsnip soup to her. Lisbeth scrutinized Emily’s face. It was unmistakable. Emily’s hazel eyes were identical to Jack’s. How had she avoided that realization before?

Lisbeth asked, “Emily, did you ever live in the Quarters?”

Clearly surprised to be asked such a question, she replied, “I was born out there, but I have no memory of it.”

Lisbeth nodded, but did not ask any further questions.

When Lisbeth did not rise from bed by the next afternoon Mother arrived, exasperated. “Elizabeth, whatever is the matter? Clearly you are not ill. I cannot imagine what has caused these kinds of theatrics. Do tell me what happened between you and Edward.”

Grateful to be able to speak of it, Lisbeth blurted out, “Mother, at my birthday tea, when I went to find him in the gardens, Edward was…he was…he was with one of the slave girls. As a man is…with a woman.”

“Is that all?” Mother questioned. “Well, of course you were traumatized if you saw the act. It truly is unpleasant to contemplate involvement in such an endeavor. But it is not as terrible as it appears.”

Lisbeth stared at her mother, utterly shocked and perplexed at her response.

“Elizabeth,” Mother sighed as she explained, “men have needs that must be met before they are married to a lady. Ladies do not meet such needs before a wedding, but they must be met in some fashion. So men turn to the hands. I am sure it is quite flattering for a girl to have the attention of the young master of the house. You need not be concerned.”

“Does Father…? Has Jack…?” Lisbeth stammered in confusion.

Mother snapped, fury burning on her face, “It is not my place to know such things! Nor is it yours. Their relations outside this home are not our concern.”

“But is it not unchristian to behave in such a way?” wondered Lisbeth. “I thought the hands need our protection?”

“It is not as if they are true Christians,” retorted Mother. “Most of them are eager for such attention. They use it to earn special treatment. You cannot imagine they have the same moral standards we do, Elizabeth,” she added, sounding satisfied that she had set her daughter straight.

Unconvinced, Lisbeth argued back, “She did not appear to be eager, Mother. Not in the slightest.”

Impatience filled Mother’s voice, “Elizabeth, I realize it is difficult for you to understand. But you are about to be a married woman. You must stop being so naïve and idealistic. The world is not always kind. But every person has their place in it. Edward has his place, and the young slave has hers. You will have yours. We may not choose our place, we may not enjoy it, but we must accept it.”

Feeling unrestrained, Lisbeth asked, “Mother, is Emily my sis—”

Mother struck Lisbeth hard on the cheek. Clearly furious, she stated, “That is enough, Elizabeth. I am finished with this conversation! You have two more days to lie in bed and feel sorry for yourself. I expect you to be at dinner on Friday, dressed, with a smile on your face, ready to charm our guests. Have I made myself clear?”

Feeling entirely chastised, Lisbeth nodded.

The next day, after another night of troubled sleep, Lisbeth accepted a visit from Mary.

“What beautiful flowers!” Mary exclaimed.

“They are from Edward. And that garnet necklace as well,” Lisbeth replied, shaking her head with a frown on her face. Then she added, “Sent as peace offerings.”

“Did he do something for which he is sorry?” Mary asked with suddenly curiosity.

“I do not believe he is sorry for what he did. Though he wants me to believe he is. I am greatly troubled by it.”

After recounting the story of what occurred under the willow, Lisbeth asked her dear friend, “Mary, did you know such a thing was common?”

“Yes, I suppose so, though I have never heard anyone talk of it directly,” Mary admitted. “Light slaves are born on every plantation. My brothers often tease one another about whose seed made the harvest. I knew they were talking about sexual matters. I do not think it makes Edward so awful.”

“You think I should still marry him?” Lisbeth wondered, eager for her friend’s advice.

“Certainly! What alternative do you have?” Mary pointed out. “No one else is available for you to marry. Everyone is engaged. Robert would not break his engagement to marry you at this date. Do you imagine you would be able to find a match next year if you did such a thing? No one would find that an acceptable reason to end an engagement. Would your mother and father support such a choice?”

“Mother told me young men have needs that young ladies cannot satisfy until a wedding has occurred. She believes I am being overly dramatic and naïve. I feel so sad for that little negress. She was no more than a child. I am so ashamed to have seen what they were doing. Mother believes I have been traumatized by seeing the act but that I will get over it soon enough.”

Gently Mary replied, “I cannot see that you have any choice but to marry Edward. You would have to leave if you did not. Where could you possibly go?”

“Perhaps my mother’s sister would take me in. But only for a short time.”Lisbeth eyes stung. “Oh, Mary, I am so confused! I must decide soon.”

Mary lectured her friend, “Lisbeth, remember when you were eighteen and you thought it would be romantic to marry Matthew Johnson because you share a fondness for Shakespeare? You realized in time how foolish it would be to make a marriage based on such an idea. This is no different. You cannot possibly choose a husband based on the literature he cares for, nor can you reject a husband for how he treats the hands. You would be giving up everything. For what? It changes nothing.”

Lisbeth sat in stony silence taking in her friends wisdom. She nodded slowly.

Mary went on, gently this time, “I know it is selfish of me, but I cannot bear the thought of you living anywhere but here. I imagine us drinking tea on the veranda at White Pines while we hear our children play in the garden.”

“I dream of that too.”

Mary pleaded with Lisbeth, “Please, put it out of your mind and continue with your plans.”

“I am trying to put it behind me, I promise,” Lisbeth assured her friend.

After Mary departed, Lisbeth sat on her rocking chair gazing out the window at the landscape below—the cookhouse and smokehouse, the willow tree, the Quarters, and the fields dotted with bent workers. She wanted to make out someone familiar, Rebecca or Sarah or Henry. But no one stood out. It had been so long since she had visited any of them. The habit had slowly slipped away over this year. She hardly knew them anymore.

She saw her brother Jack giving directions to the overseer. He had been spending more time outside since he turned nineteen, preparing for his eventual role as master of Fair Oaks. Watching the way he spoke to the overseer and looked at the hands, she knew with sudden, painful certainty: Edward spoke the truth. Yes, her brother too. He would use any of these workers for his personal satisfaction. Indeed, most likely, he already had—perhaps under her very own willow tree.

Overcome with sorrow, Lisbeth bent in half, sobbing. She cried so hard she could not breathe. Her lungs clamped in tight; she gasped for breath. Squeaking sounds rushed from her throat. Sobs wracked her body, harder and harder, until saliva poured out of her mouth. She gagged. Running to her washstand, she spit bile into the bowl. Too tired and overwhelmed to return to the rocker, she collapsed onto the floor. She took a towel from the stand and wiped her face, then she sat on the floor, leaned back against the shiny cherry washstand, and cried until she ran out of tears.

Before Lisbeth went to sleep that night, she prayed for guidance, “Please, Lord, show me what you will for me. If I am to marry Edward then take these images out of my mind and heart and return me to innocence. If I am not to marry Edward, then guide me to another path. Please, God, show me what I am to do.”

More troubled dreams filled Lisbeth’s sleep.
She was being chased through willow branches. She cried out as long, green vines slapped at her legs and tugged at her hair. She ran, gasping for breath with every step, then suddenly fell hard, landing on top of a small body. She looked down. The girl Edward had mounted lay on the ground. “No,”Lisbeth cried out, fighting to look away, but her eyes were locked into the girl’s. Suddenly the girl transformed into Mattie, then baby Jordan. Horrified, Lisbeth flailed against the ground, struggling against gravity to stand. But her legs would not cooperate. She was forced to stay in this position. A crowd watched, cheering her on. Mother, Father, Edward, Mary yelled indecipherable words of encouragement. Lisbeth struggled to hear what they were telling her. Then she looked down at the Mattie/Jordan person under her. Mattie/Jordan shook her head and said, “You had such a good heart.”

Suddenly Lisbeth was in front of a group of dark-skinned women lined up against a bright white wall. Walking up and down across the row, she examined each one. Edward shadowed behind her so closely that she felt his warm breath again her neck.

“You choose,” he whispered seductively into her ear.

It was hard for Lisbeth. She wanted to please Edward by making the right choice, but she did not know any of these slaves. Suddenly Lisbeth recognized Jordan, no longer a baby, but clearly the girl Lisbeth had carried on her hip so long ago.

“Her,” she pointed.

“Good choice,” Edward confirmed.

He took Jordan by the hand. She can walk now, Lisbeth thought to herself in the dream. As Edward led Jordan away, Mattie suddenly appeared and started screaming, “Not my baby. Don’ take my baby.”

“Mattie, it is all right,” Lisbeth soothed Mattie. “We shall take care of her. We would never hurt Jordan. See…” Lisbeth turned her attention to Edward and saw him leading Jordan toward the willow tree.

“No!” Lisbeth screamed because she realized what she had chosen the girl for. “Not Jordan. No, not her. Not there. NO!”

Lisbeth yelled and woke with a start. She sat up, shaking and gasping for air. Alone and scared, she reached under her pillow for the shell necklace. She breathed in deep and rubbed the smooth shell.

“Oh, God, oh, God, oh. God,” Lisbeth panted.

For the first time in two days she allowed herself to focus on the face of the enslaved child, a girl with eyes so similar to Mattie’s that it hurt. Lisbeth felt the child’s fear. She imagined the feelings of the girl’s mother, the pain of knowing such a thing was being done and yet being unable to protect her daughter from it. Lisbeth knew with absolute certainty that if Mattie had stayed, someday it would be Jordan lying on the ground under a white man. Had Mattie known such treatment? It was devastating to think about, but Lisbeth allowed herself to consider life at Fair Oaks from Mattie’s perspective. She knew now that Mattie had left to protect Jordan.

Mother and Father insisted slaves were children who needed guidance to survive. They argued fervently against emancipation as being entirely unfair to the negroes. But how could Mother consider the incident under the willow protection? If she married Edward she would be agreeing such treatment was acceptable.

I cannot do it
, she realized.
I cannot marry Edward
. Adrenaline rushed through her body. She clenched her eyes tight against a dizzying wave. Her hands turned icy as blood rushed away from her limbs. It would be the end of her life as she knew it. She would be giving up all hope of having any social standing along the James River, but Lisbeth could no longer pretend enslaving negroes was for their own protection.