string.
Charlotte added her delicate nightgown to the clothes in
the washtub. Her fall into the cellar, landing her on the dirt
floor, had left the fabric embedded with grime. She scrubbedand scrubbed, although she knew that no matter how hard
she tried, it would never be so fresh and pretty as before. But
the state of a nightgown, she reminded herself, was unimportant when compared with the plight of Phoebe, Jammy,
and the now motherless baby.
She was rinsing the clothes when Mrs. Doughty returned.
âIâve found a wet nurse. Her name is Hannah Perkins. She
canât keep the baby in her home, because she has her own
little ones to care for. I would like thee to take him to her
twice every day. Friend Perkins lives on Meeting Street. Iâll
give thee directions.â
âWill two feedings be enough?â Charlotte knew enough
about babies to realize that they were hungry nearly all the
time.
âHe wonât think so,â Mrs. Doughty said wryly. âWeâll have
to comfort him with sugar water in between.â
âWhen shall I take him there?â
âTake him now. Iâll finish the laundry. Heâll want a feeding
as soon as he wakes.â
Charlotte bent over the cradle and picked up the baby. She
was surprised at his weight. He was much more solid than
he looked, a real flesh-and-blood little person with tawny
skin and a fuzz of black hair.
âWhatâs his name? You never mentioned a name.â
âNoah.â
He woke as she was wrapping him in a shawl, staring up
at her with wide grey eyes. She took a second look.
âHis eyes are grey!â
âHe has his fatherâs eyes.â
Mr. Morleyâs eyes.
âThen itâs no wonder his presence made Mrs. Morley uncomfortable. If I were Mrs. Morley, I wouldnât like it either.â
Charlotte paused. âWhat about Phoebe? Those grey eyes
must remind her every single day of what her master did to
her. Frankly, I donât understand how she can love this baby
so much. I donât think I could love a child born as the result
of such a deed.â
âIf thee lived Phoebeâs life, thee might understand. Her
mother is a field hand at a rice plantation owned by Mrs.
Morleyâs brother-in-law Paul Vesey, twenty miles up the
Cooper River. Five years ago, when Mrs. Morley was looking
for a bright girl to train up as a house servant, her sister,
Mrs. Vesey, said she could have Phoebe as a birthday present. She was ten years old when Mrs. Morley brought her to
Charleston, a frightened child torn away from everyone she
loved. Phoebe hasnât seen her mother or her brothers and
sisters since. This baby makes up for everything sheâs lost.â
âShe has Jammy.â
âAnd she loves him, but in a different way. Theyâve been
friends ever since the Morleys brought Phoebe to Charleston. And lately . . . theyâre more than friends. The Morleys
bought Jammy when he was six years old to be trained as a
stable groom. He slept in the stable. According to Phoebe,
his only friends were horses until she joined the household.
Phoebe tells me they want to spend their lives together. Butthen, theyâre both only fifteen. Who knows what will happen?â
The baby, whose big grey eyes had been fixed on Charlotteâs face for several minutes, began to pucker his lips and
suckle at the air.
âBe off with thee,â said Mrs. Doughty. âWeâve done enough
talking. This little oneâs hunger canât be denied.â
Friend Perkins was a plump, cheerful woman whose coal-scuttle bonnet was askew and apron far from spotless. She
had two little children clinging to her and a few larger ones
trailing after. There were so many she made Charlotte think
of the old woman who lived in a shoe.
As soon as Friend Perkins saw Noah, she took him into
her arms, gave him a cuddle, and pronounced him a perfect
angel.
âWill thee step inside and have a seat for half an
Learning to Kill: Stories