he said. Then he leaned down and kissed me. "Don't leave baby Edward alone with your mother. Or the other little ones."
"Pa, you can't leave me like this!"
But he was riding off. I watched him. My heart was pounding. "I'm going to drink the rest of the tea!" I yelled after him.
He gave no answer, so I ran down the roundabout after his horse. "I'm going to drink it all! And I don't care about the nonimportation agreements."
He did not turn around. Only waved an arm, dismissing me, as I stood there sobbing.
Chapter Seven
A LL THE REST of that day, Pa's unspoken words worked their way into my blood.
He thought I would turn out like Mama.
Would I? Is that what marriage did to women? I thought of the women I knew. Clementina came to mind first.
She was as sane as a preacher's wife. But then, she worked with her husband. She wrote stories for the paper. She got about and saw people.
Mrs. Hooper, our neighbor? I never liked her, but no, she wasn't daft, only mean as a viper. What about Mrs. Parson, who allowed that rumor to be bandied about concerning her son Richard with the rotted flesh?
I thought about Aunt Annie. She lived in Indian territory, and we'd as yet heard no reports of her mind going.
Then! decided no. It must be only our family. And so I thought again:
It's what Pa meant, truly. It might someday be me.
***
I TRIED TO GET away from the sound of the hammering belowstairs. Thank heaven the house was big enough to lose yourself in. And Pa wanted me to be mistress of the place. Very well, I would be.
I must see what Pegg was planning for supper. Cold chicken fricassee, yellow squash, turtle soup, and pound cake for dessert.
It was soap-making time, so I went to cast an eye to Daphne. Her husband, Claye, already had the fire going and was carrying over the water. The key to good soap is the ability to judge the strength of the lye, and use the right portion of grease. I stood, while Claye poured the water over the clean wood ashes and some lime in a barrel and the process was well under way.
Then I went with Silvy, to help her air out the mattress tickings on this beautiful spring day.
I knew I should bring Edward to Delia to be nursed, but I could not bring myself to do that.
"Would you take him down?" I asked Pegg.
She gave me a sly glance. How could I be mistress of the place if I couldn't even visit the quarters? Mama used to go every day to see what was needed, to take care of anyone who was sick, to visit new babies.
I gave Pegg a look, letting her know I would brook no sass from her as I handed my brother over.
"Tell Delia that if she is well enough tomorrow, I expect her up here at the house to nurse him," I said.
"Yes, Miss Patsy." At the door, she turned. "Your mama be cryin' in her room 'cause she can't see the baby. You best let me give her some of my remedies."
"The doctor said laudanum."
"My remedies fix her better."
I gave her no answer. I brought Mama some leftover dinner pudding.
"Where is Edward? Where is my baby?" Her hair was hanging loose about her shoulders. She wore a silk sacque.
"He's down to the quarters for nursing. Delia had her baby. A boy."
"I do not want him nursed by a Negro."
"Now, Mama, isn't it time you were treated like a lady? Most planters' wives don't nurse their own children."
She pushed me away. "Don't tell me what most planters' wives do. Bring me my baby!"
"Of course, Mama. Just take some nice tea first, and this powder the doctor left you. You'll feel better in no time."
"You think I don't know what that doctor and Pegg are doing to me? I won't take it! I want my baby!" She pushed me aside even more forcefully and ran from the room. I ran after her.
"Mama, Mama, come back," I begged.
Out the back door I followed her ethereal form, with her hair flying and her blue silk sacque billowing out behind her. Behind me, Anne and William and Mr. Chitwell came out of the parlor, all calling her. From the corner of my eye I saw Betsy, who'd been playing with