Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (36 page)

As servants, yes… it was a fact that few plantations put on such grand events as this for their slaves. The ones that did, were rare and only at the whimsy of the missus running social events.

Carriage after carriage came to a stop for them to unload.

Asiza had chosen to ride with Millie and Ruth in order to assure that Asa was with other children. All first timers stepped onto the cold and snow covered ground, with mouths agape and eyes wide. Slowly, with well executed steps and etiquette, they were part of the parade heading through the doors of the mansion.

“Asiza… oh Asiza, look at us, look at this! Can you believe such a thing? I never imagined ever enjoying anything so grand. My heart is beating so I can’t catch my breath.” Millie gasped, holding onto her girls. Young as they were they were also dressed the part, this was something that would always stay in their minds.

“So many people – how many you think so far?” Asiza asked, her eyes wide as she looked over the many there and arriving.

“Only heaven knows.” Ruthie interjected.

They carried on, nervous, but enthralled. When they finally reached the doors, and were welcomed in, their wraps were taken and it was explained, that another room was set up for the children to dance, play and eat… enjoying what was in place for their pleasure.

Asiza looked from the escort in place to take the children, down to Asa, “Enjoy yourself – but always mind your manners.”

“Yes ma’am, I will.” Along with the other children, they were lead off to give the adults a chance to enjoy themselves.

The women from Ms. Della’s boarding house were all in close proximity as they made their way slowly towards the ballroom, they could hear the music filtering their way – glorious harmony from a pianoforte, strings, flutes and horns. Each of them battled to remember the proper etiquette of greeting their hosts, who would be standing awaiting them as they passed into the ballroom.

As for Asiza, the only thing on her mind was her husband. Thus, she missed the announcement of their hosts’ names. She was too caught up in how she longed for him to be present to see all of this. The grandeur of it was amazing to her. This was a life, a style, a wonder of living that few black people would ever come to know. That unfair fact of their lives haunting her, also saddened her. How could it be that in parts of the world, or the land that they now called home – there could be such a disparity? Here and in other places, people milled about in fancy gowns, sipping wine and champagne, drinking ale, mead and beer, laughing it up and having a good time.

While in other sections not far in the distance, people were poor, hungry, suffering beatings, raped, ravaged by dogs, hung and tortured for wishing to be free to live the way that all men deserved and desired.

How could this be fair?

She was so caught up in her mind with her thoughts and sadness - that she hadn’t noticed the line moving - nor that she now stood before one of her hosts - Maynard Ramsey Webster. It wasn’t until she received a nudge from Millie, and a head gesture to look up, that she came to realize where she was.

Her head slowly went back, her face lifted, with eyes now focusing, as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat and the moisture of sadness lingering in her stunning green orbs.

“Surely on a night so wonderful as this, on the Lord’s holy eve, there is the smallest reason to smile? Have we done so bad as that, eliciting only tears?” Mr. Webster asked.

He was a tall man, large and broad - with eyes so tender in their compassion, she could not help but smile for him.

“My apologies sir. My mind is filled with thoughts of those I left behind, who will never know this – never experience such a place, such an event, or a better life.”

Manny smiled, nodding that he understood, “No apology needed. You see…” He left off what he would say, asking first, “…your name?”

“Asiza, Mrs. Asiza Wolf.”

A brow lifted due to recognizing her name, “Wolf? Hmmm, would you know of a Mr. Broc Wolf?” He asked.

She immediately smiled brightly, so much so, it was as if a light had been turned on. Then she remembered what Della said about telling others of their marriage. Asiza nibbled on the corner of her bottom lip, trying to decide was it okay to admit this to him.

Manny immediately knew the problem, chuckling, he leaned down and whispered, “It is a secret that is safe with me, you see – the woman here beside me, looking on in curiosity, is
my
wife.”

Asiza glanced at the woman next to him, and found a knowing smile from a Negro woman she thought immediately, must be a fancy as well. She nodded to Asiza that it was true that she was his wife.

Swallowing and taking a deep breath, she nodded first to the woman, and then back towards the man that stood before her.

“Yes, I know of Mr. Broc Wolf, he is my husband.” She gladly shared.

“Ah, I thought as much.” Manny grinned and turning to his wife informed, “This is Mr. Wolf’s wife… Asiza.”

“Hello Asiza, what a pleasure it is to meet you. I could not help but overhear your words to my husband. You see, this… all of this, is exactly why we do it – every year. Life, was meant to be enjoyed – to find little rewards along the way, to help us make it through the hard times. Please, find it in you to enjoy this night and know, we will do all that we can, to bring others to this place when it is their time.”

Feeling a bit emotional, Asiza nodded, and realized they knew who she was, but she didn’t know them. “Forgive me, I fear, that I may have missed the introductions.”

“Maynard Ramsey Webster, and my wife, Ces’alena Webster. I assure you, we are both pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“However, I fear that we are holding up the line. I promise, later we shall come together to speak once more. In the meantime, enjoy, Mrs. Wolf – after all, this event is for you and others like you.”

She wanted more time with them, but looking behind her, she could see that they truly were holding up the line. Nodding and moving forward, she had no choice but to accept and went on to meet, Mr. Joseph Avery O’Brien, as well his wife, Golden Hope O’Brien. To her surprise, next to them, one of her teachers, Ms. Josey, with her husband Mr. Meyer. There, she learned that Ms. Josey was mother to Mr. O’Brien. And that Golden Hope was actually the daughter of the Websters. Her head was constantly looking back and forth from the beginning of the line to where she stood. Coming up, no less a surprise – in the line of greeting, was Rory.

‘Wait, Rory? Here? Why?’

Seeing him made her anxious, surely this meant that Broc was present? Before she could think clearly, she blurted, “Rory? Why are you – here?”

Grinning and blushing he answered, “Mr. Webster, is my father. Mrs. Webster, my mother. I can run seeking all the adventures I wish, but family events, I must attend.” He shrugged his shoulders - standing tall and handsome. “I see, Broc told me, but I didn’t know – that they – you – well…” She sighed, smiling, and then with wide eyes, “Broc? Is he here?”

Rory’s wink was his answer, “Move along madam, you shall see.” That was all he would give. From that moment on, she could barely pay attention to what was happening before her, for looking around. She searched every head for that color that was his, for that face that gripped her heart. Almost stumbling, to be caught by one in the greeting line, she was forced to pay attention, “My apologies,” she murmured, embarrassed, looking up into another familiar face.

Mr. McNeil and his wife from the riverboat stood before her, smiling and happy to see her.

“Careful, you would not wish to make a mess of your dress before your husband sees you, would you?” Leon teased her.

Looking from him and Frances, her heart slamming, she asked, “He’s here, Broc?”

Leon grinned, nodded his head and encouraged her to enjoy herself, as did his wife, who was no longer pregnant.

Asiza couldn’t help enquiring, “The child? In good health?”

“Very good health, another boy.” Frances informed her.

Asiza’s mood lifted, seeing people she knew, and knowing that her husband was there, filled her with a gladness she could not hide. She wanted to stop and speak with so many of them, but the line was long and she had to keep moving. Further down she met yet another man, resembling Mr. Webster, however – he was not as friendly looking as - she came to learn - his father. There was a sadness about him. He looked tight about the mouth, as if he wished to be anywhere but there. He stiffly nodded his head to her – but his eyes were dull and vacant.

His name was Michael Ramsey Webster and beside him, some of his children. First, a son, dark and handsome – the family resemblance was clear - his name was Esteban, standing as tall as his father. Next to
him
, two more sons, Asiza remembered them from the Lady Frances. Next was a daughter, Lolita Webster. She looked a lot like her grandmother. It was said that he had two more, which were in with the other young ones - such a lovely family but no wife or mother present.      

By the time she and her friends from Clover Grove finished the greeting line they were all in a race to speak first.

Millie was quickest on the draw, “Asiza, do you know who Maynard Webster is?”

“Ms. Josey is mother to that Mr. O’Brien, who lives in this mansion!” Ruthie blasted – it was apparent that he was a Native Indian.

“Oh my lord! They all so handsome, oh my lord!” Tori gasped.

“That Negro woman, mother to all – even that one named Hope, you see that? They look like her too!” Nettie rattled off.

“Wasn’t no wife standin’ with that tall one.” Emma Byrd murmured, hanging with the group. That’s what
she
immediately noticed. Ignoring her as the norm, they were chirping like excited birds with worms galore lying before them.

“Any o’you seen my Broc?” Asiza slipped into her slang before she knew it with all the excitement around her.

“Careful… take a deep breath, everyone calm down. Let us not forget ourselves.” Della spoke nearby, hovering like a mother hen guarding her charges.

Asiza immediately took a deep breath, nodding, as did the others, checking themselves before they spoke to anyone else. Millie trembled with excitement, so hyped was she to cut through all the talk of the others to gain Asiza’s attention. She reached thru the cluster of women to grab Asiza’s arm, pulling her thru the others. “What Millie? I’m looking for my Broc.”

Close up, speaking directly, just above a whisper, “Asiza, that Mr. Webster – he was the one I told you about. He was with Suga’s husband – he’s the one that saw to us going to Ms. Della’s. He knows where your sister is.”

“What? My Suga? You sure Millie?”

“Of course I am – I’ll never forget him. Asiza, he was there when they took your mama off to be with Suga.”

“My mama, oh lord, my mama.” Immediately, Asiza’s head spun as she turned away to look back at Mr. Webster once more. There were still more guests filing in – there was no way of speaking to him until the festivities began.

Until then, they were led by Della to a section of the hall where they could be seated. All sat or stood near a set of double doors leading out onto a veranda. Outside, more snow began to fall – fat cottony clumps of it drifting down delicately.

Asiza watched it while trying to calm her heart and breathing.

She could not believe the direction her life was taking her.

From where she sat, she observed a ballroom filling with feminine voices chattering from anticipation – accompanied by deep, bold, masculine laughter from men and their enthusiasm. The music played at a soft level to make conversation easy. Several well placed chandeliers hung from above, holding numerous candles, burning from brass and silver perches - strategically placed about the ballroom, silver floor-standing candelabras – all providing a spellbinding glow.

Most of the ladies - Negro, white, Indian, and Spanish pranced about in beautiful, off the shoulder ball-gowns. Silks, satins, brocade solids and prints. Mixed within, some wearing gowns not so rich of cotton or gingham, home sewn. Even so, they were just as happy to be there.

More of the Negro men than not were dressed in their best, and for some that was a decent work shirt, no holes, the same for their breeches. Dressed the same were poor white, Asian, or Indian males, looking for a partner – with little care of what color or race she might be. Many others were sailors with ideas of their own, giving the current laws little to no attention. 

Asiza gracefully sat, taking it all in, wearing a satin, cream gown with gold accents and trim. Large puffed sleeves high on her arms, to taper in to a snug fit on her forearms. Silk embroidered delicate flowers of green, maroon and yellow accented the vast skirt – matching the pelerine drape that lay gently over her shoulders. Her skin glowed beautifully from what could be seen by her shoulders and graceful neck. Adding to it, her stunning looks - few could resist a second glance – wearing her hair high and elegant.

Sitting still, her eyes moved carefully here and there, searching. She was hoping to soon spot the one male she longed to.

Hidden beside a towering column, her husband stood in absolute rapture as he gazed at her. Forced to move closer to keep her in his sights, or lose her due to the numbers filling the room. “My beautiful… Asiza.” Her name came from his lips in a low, slow passionate whisper. He smiled with pride and gladness.