Phebe

She heard it all, standing, invisible, by the parlor door. The master took it well enough, watching Jack Randolph like a child studying a firefly trapped in glass, curious, but nothing more. Tudor, as sly a boy as ever lived, fairly jangled with discomfort, and so he should, the ungrateful dog. But mostly, Phebe watched her mistress and pitied her, forced to listen to Jack's torrent of words and be dragged back to their dark days at Bizarre and Glentivar.

When Jack finally saw his poison darts failing to land and took his leave with Tudor, Phebe slipped away to her own room.

She had remained with her mistress because she wanted to. When Miss Nancy bore a healthy child, she knew she'd been right in staying. The horrors of Mae's death, of Bizarre and Glentivar, receded. And then there was the surprising truth — Morrisania felt like it might be home. There was no way back to Tuckahoe and the remains of her family. Whereas here? Here was the cook, Martha's, tall son, Isaac, returned home after losing his wife to the fever in Philadelphia. Isaac never said much, always a quiet boy his mama said, but something in his rare smiles drew Phebe toward him — no, she'd no wish to leave Morrisania.

And so she hesitated. It was never her place to interfere. But Miss Nancy's face when Jack Randolph said she'd killed his brother because Dick knew what she done to her child? She couldn't unsee it. What had Miss Nancy said about having a child with Mr. Morris? That God would not permit it? And yet he had. For years, Phebe watched her mistress struggle with her guilt. It was time, past time, for a proper talk about what happened, and if Miss Nancy didn't like her speaking up, well, then Phebe would live with the consequences somehow. She might be on the road by nightfall. Maids were easily dismissed. Miss Nancy wouldn't even have the trouble of trying to sell her. Old Cilla, rest her soul, might have had some words to say about that. But it was Cilla who told her to look after Miss Nancy. Whatever the risks, Phebe knew what she had to go and say.

She found her deadheading roses. Some things never changed. Hadn't they both always sought peace of mind in fresh air and hard work?

"I heard Mr. Jack," Phebe said. "Heard every word. And what he said, it was alls wrong. Dead wrong." Miss Nancy didn't stop cutting. "He was wrong years back about Billy Ellis, and he's wrong about how Mr. Randolph died." The only sound was the scrape of the knife against the rose stems. "He was wrong about that baby too, Miss Nancy. You didn't do nothing bad. It weren't your fault. I knows it. I was there."

Now, the mistress put down her tools, wiped her brow. "You were not at the trial."

"What do you mean?"

"I wished the child away, Phebe. You know I did. I prayed to lose it. Imagine. Praying to lose a child. What kind of a woman was I? Am I?"

"Wishing is not doing, Miss Nancy. Ain't nothing like doing. You was a young girl. Afraid."

"I thought so too at first. Felt sorry for myself. Pitied myself. But at the trial, I understood it. What I'd done."

"You is making no sense. What they say at that trial?"

"The gum guaiacum. Do you remember it?"

"Course I do. Sent by Miss Patsy. Never helped none, far as I could see."

Miss Nancy gave a strangled laugh. "How old were you, Phebe? Fifteen? How old was I? Young, it's true, but not so young I couldn't have listened. Patsy and Judy talked about how gum guaiacum could harm a baby and make a woman's courses come. I was right there. Why didn't I listen? Instead, I took it. I took it, Phebe, and I killed my own child."

"No!" She took hold of Miss Nancy by her shoulders and looked her right in the eye. "No." She saw hesitation in her mistress's eyes and spoke quickly. "I remember it all, Miss Nancy. I can see you and the child you bore, clear as I see you now. Your baby was born alive."

"But the blood, Phebe." Miss Nancy's voice was a whisper. "I remember the blood."

"The blood was after. Not before. Only after, I'm telling you. I swear it. It wasn't your fault. The girl was alive and healthy looking. Mr. Randolph took her from your arms and said you needed to rest."

"What happened to her then?"

"I— I don't know."

* * *

Two weeks later, Phebe was on the road to Virginia. People might think little of it in New York, but as the Morrises' carriage rolled south, Phebe wondered how many folks seeing a Black woman riding in such comfort would think they'd dreamed her. She lifted her chin. She was a free woman, traveling to see a free man living near Farmville, Virginia, there on her mistress's business. Knowing it didn't fully settle the nerves a-jangling in her middle, but the papers in her purse surely helped. When Phebe offered to seek out Syphax and see if he'd answer her questions, she never imagined traveling in such comfort and style. Mr. Morris believed Phebe was needed by family. It didn't seem right, lying, in order to go searching for the truth, but what Miss Nancy said to her husband weren't no one's business. Phebe thought of nothing but finding the old man alive and persuading him to talk.

During her recent visit, Mrs. Randolph told the Morrises about her efforts to fulfill her husband's wishes and free the slaved men and women at Bizarre. Phebe only heard the bones of it from Miss Nancy, but it was clear their best hope lay south of the Appomattox, on a tract of land Mrs. Randolph leased to freed families in separate plots from twenty to fifty acres in size. Surely, Syphax, steadfastly loyal to the man who had promised his freedom, would be found there, if he was to be found at all?

And so it proved. Syphax was well known in the area. Her driver obtained directions to his home on his first inquiry. To Phebe's amazement, they drove through ordered parcels of land, worked and maintained by free Black men and women. No overseer in sight.

Syphax, resting in his familiar rocking chair on the porch of a wooden home — modest, but solid and nothing like his slave cabin on the plantation across the river — lifted her heart to gladness. He was older, of course. His hair was full white; he was slow out of his chair. More dependent on his cane than she remembered, but he knew her. His smile was wide, his welcome generous. Family spilled from the home behind him. A wife — a surprise — and three children who peppered Phebe with questions about her carriage, her horse and fine clothes.

"We heard Miss Nancy was married now," Syphax said when the children disappeared back inside and Phebe was settled in the chair next to him. "You lives in a fancy house now, I'm thinking."

"You might say so. I has my own room. A feather mattress."

He whistled. "Mighty fine. Mighty fine. Has me wondering what brings you back to these parts, looking for Syphax. Surprised you even remember me, in this fine new life of yours."

"You were kind to me. When no one else was. I remember that."

"I'd soon as been unkind to a kitten. You were little more than a child. Timid. Not so timid now, I'm thinking."

"No reason now, Syphax. I'm as free as you, but still loyal to Miss Nancy. As loyal as you ever were to Mr. Randolph, I'd say."

He nodded. "And not here for no reason either, I's guessing. Let's hear it, Miss Phebe. What you need to visit Syphax for? Hmm?"

She had thought to come at it slowly, to get him talking about the old days and set him at ease. How foolish. Syphax always spoke plain. She needed to do the same.

"Miss Nancy and Mr. Randolph's baby. I came to ask you about it."

His eyebrows rose. "That's more than twenty years ago." He scratched his head. "You wants to know about the child? But you knows already. That child died."

"Did it? Came out alive and well. I saw that with my own eyes. Only your word and Mr. Randolph's the baby died. Mr. Randolph had that child out of the room and out of sight in a minute. I never set eyes on it one moment more. My mistress blames herself."

Syphax stared, his eyes clouding with displeasure. Her mouth went dry, but she held his gaze.

"What you saying, Phebe? Think careful 'fore you answer."

When she was younger, his heavy tone would have silenced her. But she was a grown woman now. "I heard you and Mr. Randolph talking. Heard you say you'd a place for the child, but only if it were a boy. And then there was the overseer, Johnson, and Rachel, his woman. They left Bizarre around that time. Heard she had a child so pale, it looked full White. And so I'm asking. Was that Miss Nancy's child?"

A slow smile spread across Syphax's face. "You has grown bold, I'll give you that." He tilted his head and considered her. Then lifted his cane and twisted around till he could knock on the door behind him with it. The oldest of his children appeared in seconds.

"Hercules," he said. "Bring me a fresh tumbler of water and some for my visitor. Seems we got some talking to do."