Or Give Me Death (13 page)

It didn't look old to me.

"We do not anymore import English goods, as the
Gazette
reports. That was a villainous list that woman printed. Shows what happens when women are given power. It near ruined our reputation hereabouts."

Patsy pretended surprise.

"I am a good citizen. As is my whole family. But I wish I could say the same for yours!"

She sat down heavily in the chair I pulled out for her at the dining room table. Jane was already scurrying around, setting out cups for hot chocolate and cake.

"Have you a complaint about us?" Patsy asked with politeness.

Mrs. Hooper waited until Jane had left the room. "We must be careful these days. There are rumors of a slave insurrection in nearby Surrey County. And reports of them meeting secretly in Williamsburg."

She turned the pages of the
Gazette
and my heart flipped. There she found my latest letter.

Patsy read it. "What has this to do with us?"

"You truly don't know? This slave girl the subscriber writes about here is a niece of your Pegg," Mrs. Hooper said.

Patsy gasped. "How come you to this conclusion?"

"This girl Neely was about our place when she last ran off. Thought it was Scotchtown. She told my Scipio that she was looking for her aunt Pegg at Scotchtown. Now, Patsy Henry, tell me someone here did not write this letter? I know your father has subversive ideas, but even he must cooperate with his neighbors if we are to keep these people in line."

"Our slaves cannot read or write, Mrs. Hooper," Patsy said. "And neither I nor MyJohn wrote it."

***

W
HEN SHE TOOK
her leave, Mrs. Hooper looked at Patsy. "There are rumors about in the neighborhood that there is a crazy woman in the cellar here in Scotchtown."

I saw Patsy's face go white. "What kind of person speaks such horrible things of us?"

"I know it is your mama."

"My mama isn't crazy," I blurted out.

Patsy shushed me.

"People are saying," Mrs. Hooper went on, "that your pa hands her food down to her through a trapdoor when he is home."

I thought Patsy would faint.

"And if you do not punish whoever wrote this, and see it does not happen again, I will tell what I know to be true."

She went out the door. "He may be a good speaker, your pa, and a good politician, but if he allows the Nigras hereabouts to be incited, nothing he says will be paid mind to."

Right after supper, MyJohn asked me to accompany him and Patsy into the front parlor. I'd just decorated it with greens and winter berries for Christmas. The smell of fresh greens was everywhere.

He closed the door. In his hand he had the
Gazette.
"Did you write this, Anne?" he asked gently.

I could not lie to MyJohn. I would not. So I said yes.

Patsy stamped her foot and started to pace. "I knew it!" she snapped. "And the last one, too?"

"Yes," I said.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Do you want the truth?" I glared at my sister.

"We always want that, Anne," MyJohn said.

Did they? When they got it, they could not abide it. "I did it to do something outside your hold on me," I told Patsy. "And I did it to help Neely. And Pegg."

"Do you see what I have to contend with? She did it to plague me!" Patsy said.

"Pa's always fighting battles for people," I said. "What's so bad about what I did?"

MyJohn gave Patsy a look then, and she stamped out of the room. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and led me to the settee. "Anne, I know things are difficult in this house. I know, without undermining her authority, that Patsy sometimes takes on about small things. But she is terrified."

"About what?"

"That you will turn out like your mother."

"She's going to make me, if she doesn't stop with her meanness."

"She's only trying to help you."

I glared at him. "You believe that?"

He did not answer. And it was then that it came to me, an early, bitter knowledge. Men are helpless in the face of the women they love. They can do nothing!

"Anne, you mustn't write any more letters. Promise me. This letter you wrote will only serve to embarrass your father. As a member of the House of Burgesses, he was instrumental in giving Mr. Estave the land and slaves."

"Do you think Mr. Estave should be allowed to treat Neely like that?"

"No. And as soon as your father comes home I'll speak to him of the matter. I promise. But you must promise, too. No more letters."

"Do you think that's why Pa and the others are in meetings now?" I put to him. "So we can be suppressed from our freedoms?"

"You are too smart by half," he said. "And it's why Patsy fears for you. You'll find grief in the world, my girl, if you don't curb that willful nature." He was not joking.

Then he had a thought. "I want to be fair with you. What say you enter the poetry contest Mrs. Rind runs every year?"

I shrugged. "Patsy enters it."

"She'd be proud if you won. Will you try?"

A poetry contest! But MyJohn had promised to speak to Pa about the way Mr. Estave treated Neely. And I knew he would keep his promise. So I'd accomplished something after all.

"All right," I said. "But remember to speak to Pa."

***

R
IGHT AFTER
C
HRISTMAS
I wrote a poem and entered it in the contest.

"
When a woman's face is wrinkled
And her hairs are sprinkled,
With gray, Lackaday!
Like fashions past,
Aside she's cast,
No one respect will pay;
Remember, Lasses, remember.
And while the sun shines make hay:
You must not expect in December,
The flowers you gathered in May.

I won the contest. I won a new parasol and was allowed to select any book I wanted from the
Gazette
office.

Patsy wanted me to pick
Pilgrim's Progress.
I picked
Paradise Lost,
by John Milton. Patsy wouldn't show me the poem she entered, and I knew she would never forgive me for winning.

T
HIS YEAR,
the year of '74, was the worst ever in my life.

The water in Maryland, where Patriots had set fire to a tea ship, burned brown as the tea went into the harbor.

The British closed the Port of Boston and the mood of the people was soured.

Pa was one of the delegates from Virginia to Philadelphia for the Continental Congress. It was two days' ride to Colonel Washington's home at Mount Vernon, where he was going first. He'd travel to Philadelphia with Colonel Washington and a man by the name of Pendleton.

After he left, Patsy acted as if the trouble that brought about such a Congress was the fault of us younger ones. She took it upon herself to make sure we knew what was going on in the colonies. She'd walk into the parlor in the midst of our lessons, interrupt Mr. Chitwell, and ask us things like:

"You know why Pa has gone to Philadelphia? Why the Congress must meet? Now, see what's happened. You children will grow up now."

There was war right here in our house.

Lines had been drawn on the heart-pine floor. John stayed more and more in the stables. He had a small room there for himself now.

MyJohn found himself in the middle of the turmoil, but I suspected he leaned more to us younger ones. Several times he took up for us.

Betsy's face grew thinner every day. Will bent to his books. I knew he was hoping to be allowed to go to his private tutor at Hampden-Sydney even sooner if he passed certain exams.

When you have people at war with each other in your own house, you haven't time for the mischief those in power are making on the outside.

***

A
ND THEN
, Clementina Rind died of consumption. She'd worked so hard the last year to pay back the debts left to her by her husband that her body pure gave out. We went to her funeral. I think all of Williamsburg was there. I knew we had all lost a friend.

***

"
PA, THERE'S
a British ship that's moored at Yorktown," John said.

We were at supper. Pa had been home since the first of November. It was the next-to-last day of that month.

"I know of it, John," Pa answered.

"Spencer Roane said there's a horse aboard. Name of Doormouse. His sire was Woodpecker; his dam, Juno. He's chestnut, stands fourteen hands. Few Arabians are taller. He ran undefeated in four races, including the Great Subscription Purse in York, England. Pa?"

"Why is he here?" Pa asked.

"He was imported by John Hoomes, of this colony. Hoomes can't afford him now."

Pa nodded. "Hoomes is a tobacco farmer, son. They're not exporting to England, so he's not getting his two pence per pound."

"Pa, I've saved my money from the purse Small Hope won. I could buy this horse. I'm sure the price will be lowered."

Everyone at the table looked first at John, then at Pa.

Buy? From England?

I held my breath. John's eyes were bright with anticipation. Pa took a sip of wine. "Are you to be one of our rascals, then?" he asked.

John blushed. At the Congress in Philadelphia, Pa had suggested that the date for importing English goods should be put off until December 1, instead of November 1.

"We don't mean to hurt even our own rascals, if we have any," he'd said.

The Congress had agreed. December 1 was the last date to buy anything imported from England. And here now was this ship moored at Yorktown, ten miles downriver from Williamsburg, and the closest deepwater harbor. It had a customs house, a tobacco warehouse.

And here was this horse.

And there was my brother John, polite, respectful, yearning, with mayhap his last chance to acquire a horse with such a bloodline, for years.

"I could breed him. With Uncle John's Druid. Uncle John says," he started, but Pa held up a hand to stop him.

"I have no doubt what my half brother says. All right, then, but how do you propose to do this without letting the whole county know about it?"

"The Committee says it's all right. That anybody buying isn't going against the nonimportation agreement."

We had committees now. It was part of taking the government into our own hands. Pa had been busy all month, organizing. He was now also captain of the Hanover Volunteers. They mustered at Smith's Tavern. John and MyJohn were members.

"I know that, John. If it were, I wouldn't allow it. But you're still my son. And we haven't imported anything from England in years. Why, Patsy here hasn't had a silk dress in how long now?"

"Yes, she has," I blurted out.

Patsy gasped. I didn't care. It did my heart good to say it. She'd come down on me hard since the business with the letter writing, and I was determined to get back at her. "She's got a silk dress. Made it in secret. And she wears it when you're not here, Pa."

His scowl darkened. But not at Patsy; at me. Til warrant it's from silk she'd long since laid by," he said. "And that she hasn't worn it outside this house. Am I right, Patsy?"

"Yes, Pa," she said quietly.

"And we do not tell tales on each other in this house, Anne." His voice was gentle, but I could not abide him scolding me. Tears came to my eyes.

"Again, how do we justify this, John?" he asked my brother.

John's shoulders slumped. "I've worked so hard for years, Pa. It's my livelihood. I've never asked for anything. It's my last chance to get a horse imported from England."

Pa nodded and sighed. "Yes, all right, then. You may go to Yorktown with Spencer, if you wish, and buy this horse. But don't bandy it about."

"Thank you, sir." John beamed across the table at me. Then he sobered. "May I take Will with me?"

"Will has his college exams tomorrow," Patsy reminded him.

I saw Will's face drop.

"How about Anne?"

Pa scowled.

"It doesn't make a particle of sense to take Anne. She has duties," Patsy scolded.

But Pa held up his hand to let John finish.

"I may need help," John said.

"You have Spencer."

"Well, Anne knows horses and she never gets to go anywhere, Pa. She's been working so hard, carding and weaving. None of us would have the clothes we're wearing if she didn't."

It was true. Patsy had me carding, spinning, weaving, even bleaching the finished cloth. After the business with the letter writing, she'd increased my work until I felt like a drone.

To my surprise, Pa let me go. Over Patsy's objections. Sometimes I think he knew more than he let on, my pa, more than the rest of us thought he did.

***

I
KNEW, RIGHT OFF
, that John had a plan, that he wasn't asking for me for company. He soon told me.

We packed for the ride. I wore my warmest riding habit. We'd stay the night at Mrs. Barrow's on the way, and at an inn in Williamsburg. "I'm trusting you with your sister," Pa told John. "She's to have her own room in both places."

Outside, the sky was bright November blue, but the trees were near bare and the wind was cold.

Our ride was great sport. Spencer Roane seemed glad for my company and complimented me on my riding.

But we had a secret this day, my brother John and I, and I suppose he had already shared it with Spencer.

I had brought along a pair of John's old britches, shirt, vest, and jacket. It turned out that my brother needed me to act for him.

"Spencer doesn't approve," John told me. "But he's promised not to tell."

I was so excited I could scarce keep my horse in rein. Spencer pretended to be shocked at just seeing me ride astride.

"I most often ride bareback," I teased him.

"She's a wanton," John said.

"And you're not helping to keep her in line," he answered.

We had a pleasant stay at Mrs. Barrow's, a good breakfast, and the weather held the next day. We spent the night at The Sign of the Dolphin in Williamsburg, and that night there was a frolic and I got to dance with Spencer before John made me go to bed. The next day I smelled the water of the James before I saw it. I saw the tall sails of the
Deborah
from a distance away, with sailors hallooing to us from the shrouds, as if we were old friends.