“Keep us in your prayers as you return to work.”
Sounds of compliance stirred through the crowd, as the field hands started back down the hill, taking with them the smell of wet soil and manure. Master grabbed two women and instructed them to take care of Rachel’s body. Then he looked over at me.
“Pheby. Need you up at the house now that Rachel is gone.”
“Pheby?” Missus Delphina smacked her lips like she had been fed something sour. “I have her sewing sheets for the nursery. She fares better in the loom house.”
“The girl knows her way around and can fill in just fine.” Master Jacob pulled her close, smothering away any fight.
I looked down at my feet. On the few occasions I’d helped in the big house the strenuous work had been taxing enough. Now, to be holed up with Missus Delphina while she mourned her dearest Rachel would be like having a noose around my neck. My head started to throb as I climbed the steps, then from the corner of my eye I found Essex brazenly staring at me.
He was leaning against the silver birch tree, a piece of straw hanging from the side of his mouth. He brushed his nose twice, which was code for Meet me in the stables after dark. I scratched my ear as an answer—I will try—then put an extra drop in my hips as I pushed open the side door of the house. The entrance led into a small prep area just before the dining room. I started hatching a plan on how to get out tonight without anyone asking too many questions when, out of nowhere, a heavy slap landed across my face. My sight went blurry. When I refocused, Missus Delphina flared her nostrils at me.
“Do not come in here running amok. You better take heed or you will find yourself in the fields.”
“Yes, Missus.” It took full concentration not to touch the spot she had slapped. I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she had hurt me.
“And where is your scarf? Think you too pretty to tie up that hair?” She flicked my pinned-up hair and knocked it free. Waves of soft spirals flowed down past my shoulders. Missus eyed me like she wanted to slap me again, and I hurried to twirl my hair back up and tuck it away.
Her mouth turned down and rested in her perpetual frown. Missus Delphina was more handsome than pretty—a box-shaped woman with big, broad shoulders and startling green eyes that could cut through skin. She tended to favor the color brown, though it made her look much older than her twenty-four years. I thought she would look prettier in a shade of peach or plum.
“Lovie,” she called to the woman who was in charge up at the house, “see that this girl looks proper and get her started cleaning the bedrooms.”
“Yes, Missus.” Lovie curtseyed, and I forced my knees to do the same.
The back stairs were hidden behind the dining room, which made it easy for the house servants to move around undetected. The steps were narrow and steep, but Lovie moved up them fast and certain. Out in the hallway, the upstairs rooms were strung together in the shape of a horseshoe. At the lip of the formal stairs hung a portrait of Master’s sister, Miss Sally. She had been my teacher before she died two years ago, and adored me as much as my own mama. I stopped and stared at her thin fingers resting calmly on her lap, remembering how graceful they were on the piano. Her doe eyes fell kindly on me. My swollen cheek burned as I traced the gold frame with my fingertips.
The portrait used to hang in the parlor, until Missus Delphina arrived and had it moved up here. She also ordered Miss Sally’s clothing, favorite curtains, tea set, and anything else that belonged to her packed in boxes and donated to a church on the edge of town. Once Master Jacob became wise to his wife cleaning house, he prohibited her from removing his sister’s book collection and piano from the parlor. Then, while he and Missus attended the white church on Sunday, he had four of the field hands bring Miss Sally’s bed over to the loom house for me and Mama.
“Pheby.” Lovie snapped her fingers, beckoning me out of my head, and into Missus’s chambers. The bedroom had a musky smell, like Missus had sprayed too many potions and fragrances. Lovie drew back the heavy, rose-embellished curtains and pushed open the window. The fresh air made it easier to breathe.
“Needin’ a thorough clean. Been let go since Rachel down.”
Lovie moved next to me, grasped my chin, and tilted it up. Her eyes were deep-set and gentle. She had a heart-shaped face, and skin rich as coffee.
“Problem with being high yella. That handprint gonna be on your face all day long. I try to slip you some ice.”
She smoothed the loose strands of my hair back into my ponytail and then covered my head with a dull, itchy scarf.
“Be in Massa’s room if you needin’ me,” Lovie called over her shoulder, then closed the door.
Missus Delphina’s room was as large as the loft in the loom house that I shared with Mama. High ceilings and wide-plank floors. Adjacent to the bed sat a rosewood vanity, and I ran my hands over the floral carvings around the mirror. I listened for footsteps in the hallway and then let myself down on the matching stool. The mirror confirmed Lovie’s prediction. I had three fingerprints marking my cheekbone. Mama would be beside herself.
Before I thought it through, I undid the rag on my head, unraveled my hair, and absentmindedly picked up Missus Delphina’s brush. I glided the strong bristles across my scalp and down to the end of my curls. Missus’s brush worked much better than the wire comb Mama and I used. With a little rouge and a proper gown, I could fit in like a member of the family.
I remembered the time Miss Sally had taken me with her on a carriage ride to Williamsburg. She and Mama fawned over my dress and hair until I did not recognize myself in the looking glass. When we arrived at the first shop, the shoemaker referred to me as Miss Sally’s beautiful daughter, and she did not correct him. Nor did she right the seamstress at the dress shop, or the woman who served us tea. The memory made me smile, as I missed my teacher dearly.
The sound of the bedroom door scraping the floor sent me scrambling to my feet so fast I knocked the silver-plated box filled with hairpins to the floor.
“You thick in the mind?” Lovie hissed at me. “What if I’s the missus?”
“Sorry,” I fumbled.
“At seventeen, I expects more from you, Pheby.”
“Just lost my head.”
“Finish in here, and no more foolishness.” She disappeared back down the hall.
Having idled long enough, I retied my hair and figured it would be best to start with sweeping the ashes from the fireplace and work my way around from there. Then I picked up the broomstick and beat the mattress and pillows until I was satisfied that there were no dust mites or bugs hiding out. Missus kept a porcelain pitcher on a washstand in the back corner, which she used to freshen up between weekly baths. I slushed it clean and hung fresh white towels on the side rail for her convenience. My least favorite chore was emptying her chamber pot. Then there was the task of Missus’s closet. Even though we did not have much company, she still changed three or four times a day, and a pile of discarded dresses both dirty and clean had accumulated on the chaise. I was holding her evening dress on a hanger when Lovie cracked the door and handed me a kerchief containing a block of ice. “When you through in here, Aunt Hope needin’ you to help serve supper.”
* * *