Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [161]
“Please don’t be angry with me. I never said it was your fault. I’m only saying that it’s what the others think—and it’s why they don’t want to come here anymore. If we’re meeting regularly, you see, the slaves know when to plan their escape.”
“Well then,” I said, trying to act unconcerned. “If the ladies don’t want to come anymore it will be their loss, not mine.”
I put on my cloak and gloves later that afternoon and went out to the carriage house to talk to Eli. He had the back door open so he could shovel out the manure, and the stable was freezing cold inside. I hugged myself and rubbed my arms to keep warm while I waited for him to set the shovel aside and close the door.
“If you need to talk, we can go in the kitchen where it’s warm,” he said.
I shook my head, trying to find a way to begin. “Eli . . . do you know anything about Mrs. Fremont’s two servants running away yesterday?”
“Ivy and Lila,” he said, smiling faintly. “They’s mother and daughter, did you know that? Missus Fremont planning to send Lila away to North Carolina to be a nanny to her son’s new baby. Lila only thirteen years old. She ain’t never been away from Mama Ivy before. Don’t neither one of them want to be torn apart.”
His words shook me. I found it easy to see my own servants as individuals who loved and dreamed dreams, just like me. But I had looked past Mrs. Fremont’s servants—and everyone else’s servants— as if they weren’t even there. Now I was learning that their stories were much the same. Tessie had been only fourteen when my father took her from her parents at Hilltop to be my nanny.
“I understand,” I said quietly. “What about the other people who have run away?”
“Well now, let’s see . . .” he said, settling down on the wooden stool. “There was the two that run off on the same day—Lizzy, the Clarks’ chambermaid, and Darby, who worked for the Dunkirks. Those two young people wanting to get married real bad, but their owners wouldn’t let them.” I thought of Tessie and Josiah. “Mr. Clark had his eye on Lizzy . . . if you know what I mean.” Eli looked away, embarrassed.
“Go on,” I said after a moment.
“The Smiths’ servant, Arthur, hear the massa needing some money and planning on selling him. No telling what a new massa gonna be like.” Eli sighed. “I didn’t think you’d mind me helping all them people, seeing as they in the same bad way we was a few months ago when your daddy gonna sell us. But I ain’t never telling any of them to steal. I’m real sorry they all done that, Missy Caroline. Stealing ain’t right.”
Eli paused, and I heard the mare whinny softly as she stamped in her clean stall. “I sure hope you ain’t mad at me, Missy.”
“Not at all,” I assured him. “I’m glad you helped them. I would have done the same thing.”
“You ain’t gonna get in trouble for what I done, are you?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just gossip. But everyone’s afraid to go out and leave their servants alone at home. I’ll have to think of another way to gather information.”
“Something else you should know,” Eli said as he stood and retrieved his shovel. “Two of the St. Johns’ servants planning to run away next. Their massa talking about sending them out to dig trenches and build fortifications around Richmond soon as spring comes. Them army folks work the Negroes half to death. And there ain’t hardly no food to feed the soldiers, let alone feeding slaves. It’s a death sentence, Missy. Those two boys want their freedom, too.”
“All right,” I said. “Do whatever you have to do to help them, Eli. But please, ask them not to steal from Charles’ family.”
On a cold, clear night in March of 1864, Jonathan waltzed into my parlor. “Good evening, Cousin,” he said, grinning. “Can you spare a tired soldier a bed for one night?”
I ran to hug him. “Jonathan! How did you get here?”
“Let’s see, by train . . . wagon . . . horseback