Part 11 (2/2)

PART II.

Chapter 12.

Peg was right. It ain't so bad downstairs. Oh, the first couple of days was horrible with me in an agony of humiliation and all my former cla.s.smates staring at me, some with pity, some with delight. But I got through it.

The good Peg kept me close to her for a while so's I could get used to things as they were now. I mainly made beds and cleaned the privy and hauled the chamber pots out to the cesspool in back, and that was rough till I learned to hold my breath when I was opening the cesspool hatch and pouring in the pots. The first time I did it I almost fainted with the stench, but I learned how to do it. There's a science to everything.

But there had to come a time when I had to go up and face things upstairs, and one day when Abby was out sick Peg says, ”Dinner served by Betsey, Sylvie, and Jacky. Show her how to do it.”

But I already know: Serve from the right, take from the left.

We stride briskly into the dining hall, pus.h.i.+ng our carts of steaming food. I can feel their eyes on me and I put on my mask of stony indifference, which I'm sure fools no one, and I pick up a tray of sliced meat and head directly for Amy's table, where, sure enough, she is sitting alone. I come up to her right side and present the platter.

She glowers up at me. She seems thinner and more pale than last I saw her and she says, ”This is not fair.”

”Please, Miss. Take some. You must eat.”

”No,” she says, and tosses her fork in her plate. ”It is not fair.”

I don't know what to say to this. I straighten up and take my tray to another table where Martha and Dolley are sitting with some others, and I serve Martha and she gives me a smile and a wink and I wait on Dolley, who gives my arm a pat and tells me everything's gonna work out fine someday, and it warms me so to see them being so kind that I start to get misty, but then it's on to Clarissa's table and I ain't misty no more. Betsey tries to get to Clarissa first 'cause all the girls know how things lie between Clarissa and me, but Clarissa waves her away.

”I prefer the offerings on that platter,” says Clarissa, looking at me in her lazy way, her enjoyment at my disgrace plain upon her face, her Look saying it all.

I keep my eyes on my platter and bring it up on her right side. Clarissa takes up the tongs and picks up a piece of meat but lets it slip before it gets to her plate such that it falls on my foot. I look down to see the meat slide to the floor and the gravy from it slip down into my shoe.

”Oh,” says Clarissa, ”how clumsy of you. You really must hold the tray steady. I'm sure you'll clean that up immediately, won't you?”

”Yes, Miss,” I say, and I'm wantin' to dump the whole tray over her head but I'm sure I'd be taken back to court for a.s.saulting a real lady with a tray of meat if I did, giving Wiggins the excuse he needs to lay his rod upon my back, so I don't. What I do is take my tray back to the cart and take a napkin and go back to the table and kneel down and clean up the mess. Then I go back to the cart and take a tray of vegetables and resume serving.

It's bad, but not so bad that I can't stand it.

Later, when we're back in the kitchen, I'm put in a chair and a cup of tea is put in my hand and my shoe is taken off and cleaned and a wet cloth is put to my stocking to clean off the gravy and Rachel says, ”Don't you worry, Tacky, that one's gonna get it some day, and I hope I'm there to see it!”

”From the amount of curses you all have already laid on that one's head, well, one of them's bound to take, sooner or later,” says Peg, which gets a laugh from all, even me.

Peg fusses over me a bit and then says, ”Go over and feed some apples to that nag you love so much. Be back in time to help with supper.”

Good, good Peg, I thinks. Bless you for giving me this bit of time. You miss very little in this world that you rule so kindly.

Over at the stables I put an apple in the palm of my hand and Gretchen takes it oh-so-gentle and I bury my face in her silken mane and it soothes and gentles my mind. I stay there like that for a long time.

After a while I hear Henry come into the stall and I lift my head to see that he has brought in a saddle, which he throws on Gretchen's back.

”Here, Miss, take her for a ride. Just walk about the fields a bit. It will make you feel better, I know it will.” He cinches her up and hands me the reins.

I take them from him and place my hand on his and say, ”Thank you, Henry. But now you must call me Jacky, for I am no longer a lady.” I put my foot in the stirrup and climb aboard.

”All right, Jacky. I will call you that if you want, but you will always be a lady to me, no matter what.”

”But why?” I say. ”I sure ain't acted like one.”

”It's for how you treated a stableboy when you were one of The Ladies, is why,” he says, and he leads Gretchen and me out into the light.

J. Faber

General Delivery

U.S. Post Office

Boston, Ma.s.sachusetts, USA

October 5, 1803

James Emerson Fletcher

Number 9 Brattle Lane

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