The Price of Freedom (10 page)

Richard felt marginally better
after using the chamber pot.  He was now fully convinced that pain and
discomfort were the perfect antidotes for pride and he was just grateful that he
had Jethro there to help him and take away the contents before returning the
pot in pristine condition and ready for the next use.  He had also helped
him to undress and change into a robe.

Deborah balanced the tray in one
hand and knocked at the door.  Memories of knocking on this door almost
two years ago and the painful events that followed made her hands shake. She
steeled herself to enter the room that she had not seen since that night.

The door was opened by Jethro who
stepped aside to allow her to come in.

“How is he now?”

“A little better after using the
chamber pot but the worse
ain
’ pass yet.
He real weak already.”
 
Deborah nodded and made her way to the bed where she put the tray on the
bedside table.

Richard was lying under a sheet
and looking extremely pale.  His dark hair was almost black with sweat and
his eyes were closed.

“Master Richard,” she said softly.
“I brought you some tea to settle your stomach.”

His eyes flickered open and it
took him a moment to focus.

“Were you so upset that I interrupted
your day that you decided to poison me?” he asked weakly but with a straight
face.

“Master Richard! 
I ..
I…”  Guilt stole the words of denial from her mouth
because she still wasn’t sure if she was responsible for his illness.

“I jest. I’m sure that if you
wanted to poison me I would be dead already.  Although I do feel as if I’m
halfway to Hades.”

“You should not jest, sir! 
Slaves have been put to death just for the suspicion that they tried to poison
their master or mistress.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be put to
death.  Not before…”  Richard didn’t even get to finish his sentence
before another cramp seized him.

Deborah was quite glad that he
hadn’t finished what he was going to say; she had a feeling it would not be
something she would want to hear.

Watching him dispassionately, she
poured him a cup of tea that had been sweetened with sugar then got Jethro to
help him to sit up so that he could sip it so that she didn’t come into
intimate contact with him.

“I’ve never felt this ill in my
life,” confessed Richard. “I’m shocked at how fast it came on. I was just
thinking how pain is the perfect cure for pride.  Having to be helped on
and off a chamber pot has robbed me of all
pride,
you’ll be pleased to hear.” 

Deborah bit back a smile and said,
“Yes I am. Unfortunately I know it will come back as your strength returns.” He
managed a weak smile.

“Thank you for the tea Deborah.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I am
here to serve you,” she added sullenly.

Richard couldn’t even muster the
strength to tell her how he would like her to serve him and where and how
often. It was just as well; he’d probably teased her enough for one day.

The Acreage, Barbados

March 27, 1696

Dear Father and Mother

I am finally writing to let you
know that I arrived safely although I’m sure that
Bostick
has already informed you of that.

I am currently recovering from
a very bad stomach ailment which may have either been caused by something I ate
or the water which, Aunt Elizabeth says, often affects visitors to the island
until they become accustomed to it.

As soon as Uncle Thomas heard
about my illness, he sent for the doctor as he and Aunt Elizabeth were very
worried. There was not much the doctor could do except advise me that the
illness would run its course and to continue to drink lots of fluids and to
only drink water which had been boiled first in case it was the water that was
affecting me.

Aunt Elizabeth had one of their
house slaves sleep on a pallet in my room so that he would be available to help
me to and from the chamber pot during the night.  I lost count of the
times he had to empty it. Can you imagine me being helped to and from a chamber
pot? What I have learned from this is that illness cures pride.

I have to confess that I felt
so ill I thought I would die, so I was grateful for his assistance. Thankfully
one of the other house slaves, who
is
quite
knowledgeable in the use of herbs, kept me regularly supplied with some kind of
herbal tea which helped me greatly.

You would be shocked at the
weight I have lost just in the two days but I have no doubt I will put it back
on in short time as my aunt spreads a very good table. I plan to accompany
Uncle Thomas on his duties tomorrow, for two days in my room are more than
enough to drive me to distraction, as you can imagine.

Apart from my illness, I have
thoroughly enjoyed Barbados so far. The island is beautiful, as is the
plantation and I have been made to feel very much at home. Uncle Thomas and
Aunt Elizabeth send their regards. They have gone out of their way to ensure
that all of my needs have been met.

Please give my best regards to
Ann and let her know that I will write to her soon. I must confess that this
sickness has left me weak and it has been a challenge to even write this
letter. Also give my regards to Charles and Charlotte.

Yours respectfully

Richard

Richard folded the letter with a
thankful sigh. Although he was not fully recovered, he felt considerably better
than in the last two days and had therefore made the effort to write the tardy
letter.

If it was not for Jethro who
hardly left his side and Deborah with her teas which helped to settle his
stomach, he would have surely been a lot worse off.

She had come quietly, three times
a day with a pot of tea and left Jethro to help him sit up and drink it. He was
surprised at how much he looked forward to seeing her come in with the tray of
tea even though she didn’t stay. Her hair was always bound in a handkerchief
but he could not forget how glorious it looked
bouncing
against her back as she walked to the house.

Hattie came in both days to wipe
him down and get the stale smell of sweat off him, something he was sure that
Jethro could do. While he appreciated the bed baths, he found himself irritated
with her constant chatter and had to beg her to stop. Moreover he was surprised
that he was not the least bit aroused by her ministrations. He put it down to
the illness and hoped that it would pass quickly.

A knock on the door interrupted
his thoughts. Since Jethro had returned to his duties in the house and yard he
called, "Come in."

Deborah tentatively poked her head
around the door. Noticing that Jethro was absent she hesitated on the
threshold.

"Come in," he invited
again.

"The mistress got the cook to
make some broth to help you build back up your strength and she asked me to
bring it up.”

"Thank you. I am grateful for
all you did for me when I was ill."

He knew that he did not have to
pay her but he had put aside two shillings to gift her with.

"These are for you." He
offered her the coins.

Deborah's pride made her want to
refuse his money but the conversation she and her mother had had a few days ago
about buying their freedom made her hold her tongue. Which was more important,
pride or freedom?

"Thank you," she
managed, putting down the tray with the broth and taking the coins. She dropped
them in her pocket and was heading for the door when he stopped her.

"Read to me for a while. I'm
dying of boredom."

She hesitated, glanced at the door
she'd left open and back at him.

“Slaves are not supposed to read.”

"Just for a few
minutes," he coaxed with a charming smile. "You can read while I eat.
You had better close the door then so that no-one sees you."

This was said so differently from
the way William had ordered her to close the door that she obeyed with no
feeling of trepidation.

"Ok," she agreed looking
around for somewhere to sit. Did she really have any choice?

"I'll sit on the bed and you
can have this chair."

With that he crossed to the bed
and propped up the pillows so that he could sit up. Deborah handed him the bowl
of broth and took the book that was on the bedside table.

Turning the chair towards the bed,
she sat down and the warmth that had been left by his body in the chair
cocooned her, giving her an unwanted feeling of intimacy with him.

She read the title on the cover of
the book: “The True and Exact History of the Island of
Barbadoes
1657 by Richard
Ligon
.”

"I've been increasing my
knowledge of Barbados," he said. "This book is very insightful;
although I'm sure the island has changed a lot since Mr.
Ligon
wrote his true and exact history. I've marked my place."

Richard waited for her to find the
place he had marked and was not disappointed when he saw streaks of red appear
on her cheekbones and her nostrils flared slightly in anger. She refused to
look up at him.

"‘Observations upon the shape
of Negroes,’" she read stiffly.

Deborah was mortified to read
aloud the account about the female form of
negroes
written by Mr.
Ligon
, as if he were a student of
science and was simply making observations of some life form that was not
human. Why did he not write a similar piece on the form of white women? She was
sure that the nephew was doing this on purpose! She set her face and continued tonelessly.

"'The young maids have
ordinarily very large breasts, which stand out so hard and firm, as no leaning,
jumping, or stirring, will cause them to shake anymore than the brawn of their
arms. But when they come to be old, and have had five or six children, their
breasts hang down below their navels, so that when they
stoop
at their common work of weeding...'"

“What is going on here?" The
mistress demanded throwing open the door. From her outraged tone, one would
think that she had found them indulging in more inappropriate behavior than
reading. Deborah was almost relieved to see her although she knew it would mean
trouble.

"I asked Deborah to read for
me while I ate my broth," Richard explained calmly.

"Slaves are not allowed to
read!" His aunt replied, "If you want someone to read to you, one of
your cousins will do it. I'm sure that Deborah has work to do in the kitchen.
Take yourself off, girl! I will deal with you later," she added dismissing
her with a shooing motion of her hand.

Deborah gritted her teeth to hold
back a remark that would be guaranteed to earn her the flogging that she was
sure the mistress was itching to give her. Seething with the humiliation of
being dismissed like a dog, she dropped the book on the chair and left the room
without another word, head held high.

"You're going to give
that girl ideas
. She already acts ..."

The mistress' voice became
inaudible as Deborah walked down the hallway, anger infusing her body and
making her back straight.

The nephew knew that slaves were
not encouraged to read or write so he should never have asked her to read to
him.  She had no choice but to obey him and in doing so she had stirred up
the wrath of his aunt.  She wished that he had never come to Barbados. She
had a feeling that his visit would mean nothing but trouble for her.

“She already acts as if she’s not
a slave! Have you ever seen her with her eyes cast down?” his aunt
continued.  Richard wisely kept silent.

“I don’t know what it is like in
Carolina, but in Barbados we do not encourage our slaves to read and write. It
will only help them to plan rebellions.”  This was said more calmly.
“We’ve had several uprisings in the past, the last was but a few years ago and
I for one am mortally afraid of it happening again, and successfully this time.
We heard that the slaves were planning to kill the masters and take as wives
only the mistresses who were comely.”  She shivered in distaste.
“Thankfully it was discovered before it came to pass.”

“I’m sorry, aunt.  We have
similar laws in Carolina for that same reason. It’s easy to forget that Deborah
is a slave, especially since she’s so well spoken.” And beautiful, he added
silently.

“Exactly my
point!
She certainly does not act like one and that is the fault of
Thomas. As I said before, he lets her do as she likes. However I will deal with
her and remind her that she’s nothing but a slave in this house.”

“Please don’t punish her for
this,” Richard protested. “I asked her to read and she could hardly disobey me,
so it’s not really her fault.”  His aunt nodded reluctantly, unable to
argue with that.

“As you say.”
 
She smiled briefly to allow him to think she would let the matter rest there.
“I hope to see you downstairs later now that you’re feeling better.”

Elizabeth shut the door behind her
carefully although she really wanted to slam it in frustration.

What was it about that girl? 
Had she used witchcraft on the men in the family?  Thomas favored her,
William was obsessed with her and now it seemed as if she was working her spell
on Richard. She couldn’t believe that he had her reading to him.  And he
actually said that he forgot she was a slave! The girl must have put something
in his tea to bewitch him.

What next?  Would he be
inviting her to dine with them instead of serving them at dinner? The girl had
caused enough disruption in her family.