The Wedding Gift

by Marlen Suyapa Bodden

  I told her what the overseer said.

  “Tell him to come here immediately.”

  “But he may be angry at me for telling you.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Miss Clarissa, I know how these overseers are.”

  “I will speak with Mrs. Cromwell. Wait for me in my bedroom.”

  I was dusting when she returned.

  “How dare she? How dare that woman?”

  “What did she say?”

  “I’m writing Papa and Mama a letter right now.”

  She sat at her desk and began writing while she spoke to me. “She said that, because her husband sent four of the house servants that Papa gave them to the fields, you are needed in the kitchen. She said that it was her husband’s decision, which she cannot overrule. I’m telling you, this will not stand. That is not how my parents raised me. I need a maid who will devote all of her time to me. And I will tell Papa that they have you washing and ironing for Julius and that Isaac is no longer my coachman but his. Here, tell the overseer to send this letter.”

  There were only four servants who worked in the kitchen, including me, whereas at the Allen house, there were ten. At the Allen house, once I became Clarissa’s maid, I only helped Mama when there were guests, but here, I would only be able to attend to Clarissa between many other tasks. Isaac’s life also changed because there were fewer stable hands helping him than at Allen Estates. He was gone more often and told me that he drove Julius to town, where Julius spent a week at a time with his mistress. He cautioned me not to repeat that information to anyone, as Julius warned him that he expected not to hear anything about it from Clarissa.

  “I’m glad that his attention is elsewhere,” I said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “He’s not looking for a woman here.”

  The only benefit to working as much as I did was that I had no time to be bored, and I would have been, as there was no library in the house. There was a Bible in Clarissa’s bedroom, and she brought newspapers to her room for me.

  “These people are an ignorant and uneducated lot. I’ll ask Mama to send me books or our brains may rot.”

  “Miss Clarissa, is there a place in town where they order books?”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll ask Mrs. Cromwell.”

  Mrs. Cromwell told Clarissa that they could go to the general store, where the proprietor could order goods for her from Mobile and New Orleans. I was not able to accompany them because I had to work in the kitchen. When I saw Clarissa that evening, she had no kind words to say about her expedition with her mother-in-law.

  “The so-called general store is a smelly hole, and the filthy owner, who scratched himself, said that he had never had a request for ‘things to read.’ I never imagined that there was a more backwoods town than ours. Dear God, what have I done? Sarah, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “Forgive you?”

  “For bringing us to this godforsaken place to live among these wretched people.”

  Several weeks passed, and when Clarissa did not receive a response from her father, she wrote him again. She said to me that, in the interim, I had no choice but to continue working as I had been ordered. The overseer told me one day to go to the cobbler in town to get Mr. Cromwell’s new riding boots and to take his other boots for repair. I met the wagon driver by the stables. We left the plantation without being stopped. I asked him if he had a pass.

  “We don’t need a pass because the patrollers in town know us. So long as we leave town before the curfew bell ring, we’re all right.”

  The cobbler’s shop was busy, and I waited my turn to speak to the man as he assisted other customers.

  “Are you new in town?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m the lady’s maid for the new Mrs. Cromwell.”

  “Where did you live before coming here?”

  “At Allen Estates in Benton County.”

  The man then showed me the new boots and wrapped them in brown paper, which he tied with a string. As he took the boots from me that needed to be repaired, he lowered his voice. “These will be done next week, Thursday. That’s a nice quiet day here. My master, Mr. Stephens, he’s not here Thursdays to Saturdays. Make sure you come get these yourself, all right, Miss….”

  “Sarah.”

  “I’ll be here. My name is Daniel.”

  The following Wednesday evening, Clarissa told me to sleep in her room because her husband was not at home and she was not feeling well. Early Thursday morning, she woke me because she was bleeding and in pain. I lit lamps, and when we lifted her nightdress, we saw blood on her undergarments.

  “Do you want me to go to Mrs. Cromwell and ask that she send for the doctor?”

  “No, no. Is there anything that you can give me?”

  “I don’t know too much about stopping bleeding. That’s why I think someone should send for the doctor.”

  “No, Mama warned me about those doctors.”

  “All right. We can try alfalfa tea.”

  After I helped her to wash and change her clothing, she drank the remedy and we went back to sleep. When she awoke, she said that her back hurt but that the bleeding had stopped. I told her that I had to go to the cobbler’s for Mr. Cromwell’s boots.

  “No, you can’t go. I need you here with me. I’ll tell his mother to tell the overseer to send someone else. What is it? You seem disappointed that you can’t go to get his boots.”

  “No, that’s not true. I don’t care who collects the master’s boots.”

  Clarissa complained of back and abdominal pain and stayed in bed. The bleeding returned, and this time it was heavier and the pain more severe. She agreed that Mrs. Cromwell should send for a physician. When he arrived, he ordered me to stay in the room in the event he needed me to fetch anything for him.

  “How far along are you, Mrs. Cromwell?”

  Clarissa looked at me. “Well, about…um…four months.”

  “Would you say more than four?”

  “No, I would not. I was married four months ago. Four.”

  “Mrs. Cromwell, then we must consider that you are carrying twins, because your abdomen appears about seven months….”

  “Dr. Walker, I will say this to you once again, and I expect no more discussion about it with me or with anyone else: I am four months along.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What can you do to end the bleeding?”

  “The accepted practice for ladies in your condition is to divert the blood. Thus, I will bleed you from your arm.”

  “That is the only remedy?”

  “Yes. It takes time, but it does successfully end abnormal bleeding.”

  “Is there anything that you prescribe for the pain?”

  “Yes, I can immediately end your pain with laudanum. I will not prescribe it on a daily basis because of your condition, but I will give you enough to last you until I return.”

  I was present the first time that he bled Clarissa and gave her laudanum. When she began to resist his treatment, he told me to hold her down.

  “Doctor, she doesn’t want you to bleed her.”

  “What is this impertinence? Do not speak to me unless I speak to you first. Go call Mrs. Cromwell. Now.”

  When Mrs. Cromwell arrived in Clarissa’s room, Dr. Walker told her that I did not obey his commands and that he did not want me present. She told me to go to the kitchen.

  “I will speak with the overseer about your discipline,” she said.

  “I want Sarah here. She is my maid, not yours,” Clarissa said.

  “Clarissa, dear, Dr. Walker is simply trying to make you better. Your maid is interfering with your treatment.”

  “He is not treating me. He’s cutting my arm.”

  “Can you give her anything to make her less irritable?” she asked Dr. Walker.

  “What are you still doing here, idiot? Leave now,” the doctor said to me.

  I went to the kitchen and stayed there until the overseer arr
ived and castigated me in front of the other slaves.

  “Mrs. Cromwell told me to discipline you for your conduct this morning.”

  “But I was only attending to my mistress.”

  “Don’t interrupt me. And here, she’s not your mistress. Mrs. Cromwell wanted me to give you ten lashes, but she decided to wait for Mr. Cromwell’s return for what he thinks is the right punishment.”

  “Mr. Pinnock, I’m sorry for what I did, and I won’t do it again.”

  “Oh, I know that.”

  Mr. Cromwell must have decided not to have me whipped or else they forgot about my infraction, for upon his return, I was not called to stand before him. The following week, when I was working in the kitchen, Mrs. Cromwell’s maid told me to go to Clarissa. As I approached her bedroom, I heard familiar voices and ran into the room. My sweet mother was there with Mrs. Allen and Bessie. I curtsied to Mrs. Allen and embraced my mother and Bessie.

  “Ma’am, did you get Miss Clarissa’s letters?”

  “We received only two letters. How many did she send?”

  “Ma’am, she wrote you five letters since we’ve been here,” I told Mrs. Allen.

  “I will discuss that with Mrs. Cromwell later, but first, we have to care for Clarissa.”

  It was a joy to have my mother with me, even though it was under difficult circumstances. I told my mother and Mrs. Allen everything that had transpired regarding Clarissa’s illness before they arrived. After a few days of my mother’s care, Clarissa was greatly improved. They stayed with us for three weeks. Clarissa and I cried and pleaded with them to stay longer, but Mr. Allen had written that they were to return to Benton County.

  “Clarissa, dear, Emmeline, Bessie, and I will return for the baby’s birth,” Mrs. Allen said.

  “Mama, why can’t you stay until the baby is born? What if something happens and you’re not here?”

  “Dear, Sarah will be here with you. Emmeline has taught her how to care for you.”

  “You’ll see, baby, we’ll be back soon. Don’t cry,” my mother said to me.

  I walked with them to the carriage and watched until they passed out of the plantation gate. The following week, the overseer gave me a list and told me to go to the smokehouse to get meats for the cook. When I arrived, I gave the overseer there the list, and he told a slave the quantities of each meat to load on the wagon. The slave told me to follow him into the smokehouse, where there was a low fire on the dirt floor and meats dangling from the rafters. He gave me a ham to carry, and he put the rest of the meats that were on a table on a wheelbarrow. We were alone at the wagon as we loaded the goods.

  “Miss, you’re Sarah, right?”

  “Yes, I am. How do you know about me?”

  “Daniel, the cobbler in town, he need to talk to you.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “We ain’t got much time. The cobbler sent word that you was in his shop last month and he was expecting you to go back. Can you go back to see him?”

  “No, I can’t. My mistress is sick, and I can only go to town if I go with her or they tell me to do something there.”

  “All right. I’ll get word to him that you can’t go to him and he’ll find another way to talk to you.”

  I continued to care for Clarissa in the morning and at night. Her health deteriorated again because, contrary to Mrs. Allen’s orders, Dr. Walker visited her two times a week to bleed her and give her laudanum. When she was lucid, I tried to get Clarissa to write her mother, asking her to come see her again, but she said that there was no purpose in doing so because no one was actually sending the letters. During the day, I worked in the kitchen and in Clarissa and Julius’s quarters. Julius was gone most of the time, and when he was home, he slept in his own rooms. I did not see Isaac much because he drove Julius’s carriage and I had to stay with Clarissa at night.

  Mrs. Cromwell’s maid, carrying a basket of her mistress’s garments, came to see me one afternoon when I was washing clothes. “We can talk. Ain’t nobody else around. But we got to talk fast before somebody comes by. My husband belong to the Wilkes Plantation, and he come to stay with me Saturday and Sunday. He’s a blacksmith in town and he know Daniel, the cobbler.”

  She put down the basket and stepped outside the washroom. “I was looking to see if anybody had come around. Daniel sent word that he need your help. Master Wilkes is taking slaves to auction next week and two of them want to run.”

  “Why does he think I can help?”

  “I really don’t know. But, Sarah, I think that one of the slaves Master Wilkes is going to sell is my husband. He’s worth a lot of money because he’s a blacksmith.”

  “I’m so sorry, Grace. If there’s any way that I can help, I will; but really, they don’t let me go anywhere and they watch me all the time. Now that Miss Clarissa is sick, I can’t even go to town at all.”

  “I don’t know how they think you can help, but my husband said Daniel wants you to ask for permission to go to the fields this Saturday night. When you get there, somebody’s going to give you a package that only you can open. Open it when you is alone. You don’t have to ask for nobody, they’ll find you.”

  Clarissa was alert that evening because Dr. Walker had not been to see her in three days.

  “Miss Clarissa, do you think you can give me permission to go down to the fields Saturday evening? You know, back home, Saturday and Sundays were our nights when we didn’t have to work, but I haven’t had any rest since we’ve been here.”

  “Yes, Sarah, of course. Dr. Walker is coming Saturday afternoon. I’m sure that I’ll be asleep from the laudanum all night anyway.”

  “Would you speak to Mrs. Cromwell?”

  “Yes. Make sure you ask her to come see me today.”

  Mrs. Cromwell consented to the request. That Saturday evening, Isaac was gone with Julius, and I went to the fields in a wagon with seven other slaves. As we neared the quarters, I heard singing and clapping. When we arrived, the area, much like the Allen Estates slave quarters on a Saturday, but on a smaller scale, was transformed from its normal appearance. The slaves had created a festive marketplace where they sold or traded goods that they had made or grown. I regretted that I did not take money because a woman was selling colorful quilts and other people were selling preserved fruit, honey, pies, cakes, baskets, hats, flowers, eggs, and even shoes.

  Kate, one of the house servants, stayed with me as we walked. A woman gave me sweet tea, which made me think of Isaac, and when it was dark, Kate took me to meet her family, who were gathered at her grandmother’s cabin. The children were playing, and the sight of them caused me to miss my family even more than usual. Kate’s mother gave me food and more sweet tea.

  “What’s wrong, darling? You don’t like tea?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I like tea just fine. It’s just that, the first time I met my husband, that’s what I gave him, sweet tea and peach cobbler.”

  “I bet you did.”

  I realized that I had not laughed since we arrived at the Cromwell plantation. When it was dark, they lit lanterns and we gathered in a circle around Miss Patience, Kate’s grandmother. She told us stories, most of which I had heard from my mother and other women at Allen Estates. When it was late, the man who worked at the smokehouse arrived. He was holding a package.

  “Miss Sarah, my wife met you at the market. She said you was admiring some of her fruit. Here’s a jar of her strawberry jam.”

  “Oh, but, I didn’t bring….”

  “No, this is a gift. Maybe next time you come you can buy something.”

  “Please thank her for me, and the next time I will bring money to buy some things from the market.”

  We stayed until about midnight, and then Kate and I met the others from the house and the man who drove us at his family’s cabin. When I arrived at my cabin, I locked the door and opened the package, which was wrapped in brown paper and tied at the top with a string. There were stones instead of jam in the bottle. An unsigned letter in a blan
k envelope that was wrapped around the bottle asked the bearer to write a traveling pass and to speak with the slave from the washroom about the names and descriptions of the slaves who needed the pass. The sender enclosed a sheet of stationery with Mr. Wilkes’ letterhead and instructed the bearer to use a pen and ink from the house. The bearer was to make the pass by the next day, put it in the envelope, wrap it around the same bottle, and then cover the bottle. A different person would retrieve the package the next evening. I was afraid but also excited.

  I rose before dawn Sunday morning and went to the kitchen to start the fire. When the cook arrived, I had drawn water from the well and made tea.

  “Why you up so early?”

  “I was at the fields last night and I want to see Miss Clarissa to make sure that she’s all right.”

  I went to the house and the night watchman let me enter. I put the tea service on a table next to Clarissa’s bed. She was asleep. There were two pens on the desk in her room and bottles of ink in the drawer. It was not likely that anyone would know if these items were missing because I was the only one who polished and dusted the desk. It was not difficult to fit the pen in my pocket, but the ink was visible. I went to the broom cabinet and took my pail to Clarissa’s room. I put the pen and ink under my cleaning rags and took my bucket to my cabin. On the way, the only people I saw were two children going to the well. Once I was inside, I hid the pen and ink in the rice that I kept in a jar. Then I returned to Clarissa, who was still sleeping. I went to the kitchen, and as I was cooking ham, Grace entered and greeted everyone. She stood next to me to speak, but there were too many people within hearing distance.

  “Miss Georgianna, Grace’s stomach is sick. Could someone else finish the ham while we go to my cabin to get her something?” I asked.

  “Sure, sure. Go ahead,” the cook said.

  When we were in the cabin, Grace told me the names and descriptions of the two men.

  “Grace, I need to ask you something. If your husband runs, won’t it be the same as if he’s sold? You’ll never see him again.”

  “I know, I know, and it’s killing me, but if they sell him, it could be to a worse place. They’re selling a lot of people for new plantations out west. But if he runs and makes it, he’ll be free. He’s a good man. He said he’s going to put money away and that the same people who is helping him could help me and the children to try to get out when the children is older. I know it’s just a dream, Sarah. I know.”