by Lynn Austin
She had to stop partway across the room, feeling nauseous. She was going to be sick. It couldn’t be true! It couldn’t! The pain in her chest, in her heart, were the worst she had ever known.
“Mother! Mother, wait!” she heard Daniel calling behind her. She staggered forward again. She had to get away from him, to escape upstairs and find refuge in her room. But the dizziness was too great, the pain overwhelming.
Eugenia had heard stories of white masters fathering children with their slaves, but surely not Philip. Surely not! Yet Lizzie had been nothing but a field hand until Philip moved her up to the Big House. Had this been his reason? To have her close to him?
“Mother . . .” Daniel caught up with her and tried to take her arm. Eugenia shook him off.
“Leave me alone!”
Her world had shattered. Everything she’d ever believed about her husband had been a lie. Philip hadn’t loved her—he couldn’t have if he could do a thing like this. He had married her for show. She had been nothing but a prize in society’s matchmaking game. Eugenia’s life was falling apart just as it had during the war, only this time she would have nothing left, not even her memories. The pain grew and swelled as if her heart might burst. She didn’t know what to do, where to turn. She wanted to die.
She was nearly to the drawing room door when her legs began to go numb. She couldn’t feel them, couldn’t walk. The margins of her vision darkened and shrank. Philip and Lizzie. Eugenia felt herself spinning, falling, as if she were tumbling down a deep, dark hole. Then the world went black.
When Eugenia awoke, she was lying on a chaise in the drawing room. Dr. Hunter held a vial of smelling salts beneath her nose and was gently slapping her cheeks.
“Eugenia . . . ? Eugenia, open your eyes. Wake up.” She saw Daniel, Josephine, and Mary standing behind him, looking distraught.
She closed her eyes again and turned her head away, trying to escape the smell. “No . . . No, take it away . . .” The pain in her chest was excruciating, her body on fire, and she longed to sink back into oblivion and never wake up. But David was insisting that she did.
“Don’t close your eyes, Eugenia. Look at me.”
At first, she couldn’t remember what had happened to her, but then she did.
Philip and Lizzie.
Eugenia wanted to die. She wanted David to go away and let her die.
“Can you hear me, Eugenia?” he asked. “I’m going to help you sit up so you can swallow these laudanum tablets. They’ll stop the pain and help you sleep.”
“No . . . no . . . I don’t want to sleep.” Because when she woke up, nothing would have changed. Roselle would still be Philip’s daughter, proof of his betrayal.
“You need to take them for the pain, Eugenia. They will calm you and make the spasms stop.”
She shook her head. The pills would do no good. The pain in her heart would never go away until the day she died. And she wanted to die now.
“Mother, don’t believe that filthy slave!” Daniel said. “She was lying! Nothing she said is true!”
“Eugenia, listen,” David said. “You’ve suffered a shock. Would it help to talk about it?”
She shook her head. She didn’t want anyone to know how Philip had humiliated her, shamed her. How he had come to her bed after sleeping with a field slave. But then she remembered what else Lizzie had said, that the doctor had been there the night Roselle was born. David already knew about Philip and Lizzie.
She would make him tell her the truth. If she heard it from him, maybe her heart would finally burst and she could die. “Make everyone leave but you,” she mumbled.
She closed her eyes while David issued the orders. She heard scuffling footsteps as her children left the room. Then silence.
A vague memory began to stir in Eugenia’s mind, a commotion in the middle of the night when her daughter Mary had been young. One of the slaves had come into the room to awaken Philip, whispering about a baby and asking to send into town for the doctor. Eugenia had panicked, fearing that something had happened to Mary, her baby.
“What’s going on, Philip? What’s wrong?” she had asked him.
“Nothing. One of the slaves is having trouble giving birth. I’ll take care of it. Go back to sleep.” And so she had. She had believed Philip, trusted him.
Now David sat down beside her again. “They’re gone, Eugenia. Talk to me.”
“What did Daniel tell you?” she asked.
“He said one of your servants had told a terrible lie about Philip and that it caused your fainting spell.”
“But was it really a lie? Lizzie said that you knew the truth.”
“Me? Are you sure? How would I know . . . ?”
“I want the truth, David. I don’t care if Philip was your friend, I want to know!” She struggled to sit up, but he held her still.
“Eugenia, stop. If it’s something from the past, why not let it stay there? You need to calm down and give your heart a chance to recover.”
“My heart is breaking, David. I want to know the truth. I won’t let you leave until you tell me the truth.”
“Fine . . . yes . . . just lie still. Try to relax . . . take a few deep breaths.”
She did as he said, trying to calm herself, bracing for the truth. “Philip called for you late at night, not long after Mary was born, to deliver a slave’s baby . . . do you remember?”
He stared down at his lap as if thinking. “So long ago? I think . . .” He looked up, and a glimmer of recognition shone in his eyes. “I remember that Philip had a slave who was very young. Only fourteen or fifteen. The Negro midwife usually delivered their babies, but this girl was so young that she was having difficulty giving birth.”
“Was her name Lizzie?” Eugenia squeezed her hands into fists, trying to remain composed and not cry. The pain behind her breastbone was still intense.
“I don’t know. I just remember being outraged to see a girl that young giving birth—just a child herself. I confronted Philip and told him he needed to get to the bottom of this and punish the slave who raped her, get rid of him. How could he allow such things to go on? I asked. Couldn’t he or his foreman protect these young girls?
“Philip didn’t say anything. When the baby was finally born, I saw why. She was very light-skinned. Lighter than the mother. It was obvious the baby’s father had been white.” Dr. Hunter paused a moment. “Then the mother started calling for Philip. I saw him holding her hand, comforting her, and I was outraged.”
Eugenia could no longer hold back her tears. “Go away now, David. I want to be alone.”
“Wait. That isn’t the end of the story, Eugenia. When I confronted Philip, he said, ‘It’s not what you think. I’m not the father—not that it’s any of your business. But I’m going to take care of the girl and her baby, and move her up to the house to work. And the child will be cared for, too.’
“I argued with him. I said, ‘If that baby is your daughter, you can’t in good conscience let her grow up to be a slave.’
“‘It wasn’t me,’ he insisted.
“‘Who was it, then? The man who did this needs to be stopped. Punished. She’s just a child, for heaven’s sake. Tell me you aren’t going to allow this to continue?’
“Philip told me that he had taken care of it. I don’t know what became of either the girl or her child, Eugenia. That’s the last time either Philip or I ever mentioned it.”
Eugenia felt no relief at all. “If he wasn’t the father, then who was?”
“Philip wouldn’t say. I thought maybe it was his white foreman.”
“But my slave said that the baby was a Weatherly. Get her in here, David. I need to know the truth.”
“Do you really want to do that? Who are you going to believe, her or Philip? How will you know who’s lying?”
“Tell Josephine to go find Lizzie and bring her in here.”
“Fine. I’ll do that. But please take one of these laudanum tablets while you’re waiting. Whatever this
girl says, it’s certain to upset you again and—”
“No. I don’t want laudanum. Just let me lie here and wait.” Eugenia knew that David was right—she would have no way of knowing who was telling the truth. She couldn’t confront Philip face-to-face, but she could make Lizzie frightened enough to never speak that lie again.
A long time seemed to pass before Josephine returned with Lizzie. The servant was trembling from head to toe and clinging to Josephine’s arm as if terrified to let go. She had a welt on her cheek from where Daniel had struck her. “Thank you, Josephine. Please leave us.”
“I can’t, Mother. Lizzie only agreed to come and talk to you if I stayed with her. She’s terrified. She and Otis were packing to leave White Oak. I’m the only person she trusts.”
Eugenia exhaled in frustration and asked David to help her sit up. She didn’t want her daughter to hear this, but Eugenia had no choice. It was the only way she would ever learn the truth.
“You aren’t in trouble, Lizzie. My son had no right to hit you. Now, I heard what you said about your daughter, Roselle. That she’s a Weatherly. I want to hear the whole story from you. Don’t think you need to spare my feelings. I want the truth. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. I want you to tell me who Roselle’s father is.”
Lizzie clung to Josephine’s arm while she talked, never lifting her eyes from the floor. Tears ran down her dark face, and she kept brushing them away with her other hand. “It started the same way as Massa Daniel was doing with my Roselle. He kept taking me aside, telling me I was pretty. That’s how I knew . . . That’s why I had to stop Massa Daniel—!”
“Never mind what Daniel did, for now. I want to know your story.”
Lizzie drew a shuddering breath. “Sometimes he would be there, watching me when we all went out to the fields in the morning or came back at night. When we stopped for lunch, he would tell me to come in out of the hot sun, that I was too pretty to do such hard work. He kept saying such nice things to me, and I believed him. The other slaves tried to warn me, telling me to watch out, but he was our massa, wasn’t he? Ain’t I supposed to obey him?”
Pain stabbed through Eugenia’s heart at her words. David took her hand, holding it tightly as Lizzie continued.
“My mama said, ‘Do it, girl. Make a better life for yourself. Ask him to get you a job in the Big House.’ No one dreamed we would ever win our freedom. I didn’t have to sleep with him to get a better life. But I was tired of the cotton fields, so I let him start kissing me and holding me. He gave me presents, a nice dress, and food from the Big House, things I never ate before. He made me feel so wonderful. I never felt loved before because my mama was always afraid to love me, afraid we’d be separated and sold to different places. She always told me to make sure I never fell in love, but I couldn’t help it. I loved him, so I let him love me back.”
Eugenia couldn’t bear to hear the rest, but she had to. Would Philip really do all those things? Woo a young girl that way? Seduce her, lie to her? Or is it possible that Philip had loved Lizzie, too?
“He made a special place where we’d go,” Lizzie continued. “A special bed he fixed with pretty blankets and things. Then one day when we went there, it wasn’t just the two of us. Massa’s friend was waiting there, too. I wanted the other man to go away and leave us alone, but Massa said he shared everything with his friend and so he was going to share me with him, too. I told him I didn’t want to. I didn’t love his friend, I loved him. But they laughed at me, both of them. And when I tried to leave . . .”
“Oh . . .” Eugenia moaned.
“Lizzie, stop,” Dr. Hunter said. “You don’t have to finish.”
“Miz Eugenia wanted to know who Roselle’s father is,” Lizzie said, “but I can’t tell her for sure because I don’t know. It might be Massa Samuel, or it might be his friend, Massa Harrison.”
Eugenia closed her eyes as her own tears began to fall. Her son Samuel had done this terrible thing, not Philip. She was sorry she had ever doubted her husband, but she found no comfort at all in knowing that her son and his friend had raped a young slave girl and gotten her pregnant. And if Eugenia were honest with herself, she knew that Daniel had probably intended to do the same thing to Roselle.
And what about Harrison Blake? Eugenia had been furious at the thought of Josephine and the Yankee, yet she had nearly arranged a marriage between Josephine and a man who was capable of raping a young girl.
“Massa Philip took care of me,” Lizzie finished. “He sent Massa Samuel away for a while, and he gave me a job up here in the Big House. And as bad as it all was, I had my Roselle, and Massa promised that nobody can ever take her away from me.” Lizzie finally lifted her face, looking up at Eugenia for the first time. “Otis and me will be leaving White Oak now. I know Massa Daniel won’t let us stay here anymore. Just give us some time to pack our things and—”
“No, Lizzie. I’m in charge of White Oak. You and Otis don’t need to leave. Daniel is the one who will be leaving.” As her eyes met Lizzie’s, Eugenia saw her as a woman and a mother like herself, perhaps for the very first time. “I promised Otis that he could rent my cotton fields until the harvest, and I intend to keep my promise.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
Eugenia had never apologized to a slave in her life but she knew that she needed to. She met Lizzie’s gaze again. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m sorry about what happened, and I’m sorry for making you relive it.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
As soon as Lizzie and Josephine were gone, she told David to send in Daniel. “Are you all right, Mother? We were so worried about you. I could kill that slave for upsetting you this way.”
“I’m fine, Daniel. Lizzie told me the whole story—”
“You can’t possibly believe her!”
“I do. Dr. Hunter was there the night Roselle was born. It was Samuel and Harrison Blake. They are the ones who . . .”
“What!”
She paused to swallow a knot of grief. “Listen, everyone’s emotions are very high right now, and I think it would be best if you went to Richmond for a while. I’ll write a note for you to take to Aunt Olivia—”
“Wait! You’re sending me away? Why not send those Negroes away? They’re the ones who—”
“Just for a while. Your father sent Samuel away when he found out about what he and Harrison had done.”
“But that makes no sense.” Daniel was growing angry, unable to stand still, yet Eugenia could tell that he was trying to restrain his temper so she wouldn’t have another spell. “I can’t leave you and the girls here all alone without protection. You can’t trust those slaves.”
“The girls and I managed when you were away at war, and we can manage now. You need to go to work for your uncle Charles in Richmond for a while. I don’t think you’re cut out for running the plantation. These so-called friends of yours have had a bad influence on you.” Although Eugenia couldn’t help wondering if Daniel, in fact, was the leader.
“I can’t believe you’re sending me away, taking their side.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“What about White Oak? You’re going to let that slave run your plantation? That’s crazy!”
“He has been running it these past few months, and he has done very well—although he may not want to stay after everything that’s happened. I wouldn’t blame him. But he has a right to harvest what he has already planted.”
“White Oak is my home, not his. I can’t imagine what Father would say about this.”
“I think he would agree that I’m doing the right thing. He took care of Lizzie and her baby after what Samuel did to her, and he brought her into our house to work for us. Your father never laid a hand on any of our slaves—and I just watched you slap Lizzie and knock her to the ground. You need time away from here, Daniel. Let your temper cool. Then we’ll decide how we’re going to move forward. This is the best solution for everyone.”
“You’ve changed, Mother.” His voice was cold with barely controlled rage. “You’re not the same woman you were before the war.”
“I suppose I have changed. For the better, I hope.” But she didn’t think that Daniel heard her as he stalked from the room. She felt David squeeze her hand and realized he had been holding it all this time.
“You did the right thing, Eugenia,” he told her. “Philip would be proud of you. He hated slavery, did you know that? We used to talk about it. But he couldn’t see how he could run White Oak without slaves. It just wasn’t economically feasible.”
“I don’t know where I went wrong with raising my children.”
“Don’t upset yourself again. You’re not to blame. Our entire Southern culture had an influence on them, too. Now, listen to me, Eugenia. I am your physician, and I’m ordering you to take these two laudanum tablets. Then you need to go to bed and stay there for at least a week until your heart has a chance to recover. You won’t survive many more of these spells, you know. And you’re needed here. Your family needs you.” He handed her a glass of water and the medicine.
“Thank you, David. You’ve been a dear friend to me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” She took his hand again and held it tightly before finally letting go.
34
Lizzie still clutched Missy Josephine’s arm tightly as they left the drawing room. She was afraid to believe what Miz Eugenia had just told her. She and Otis didn’t need to leave White Oak? Massa Daniel was leaving instead? Lizzie had told the truth about Roselle after all these years, yet Miz Eugenia hadn’t sent them away.
“Everything will be all right now,” Missy Jo told her. “My mother will treat you fairly, just like my father did.”
“I done a terrible thing, fighting with Massa Daniel that way and saying what I did. I know that, Missy Jo. But I was just so scared for my Roselle.”