Chapter 2

Sunday May 15,1853

I tell Papa almost every day that Anna is not doing a good job as my servant and that I don’t want her anymore,but he doesn’t listen.Within a week of her becoming my personal attendant,Anna’s long shirt was replaced by a gray dress and white apron,identical to Hannah’s.She also got a pair of brown leather shoes,but not near as fine as mine.

It really is true that Anna is supposed to do whatever I say.Papa said she could even play dolls with me if I wanted,and that Hannah should have let her,but I don’t want Anna to play with me anymore.

In every room of the house there are bells.Some of the bells sit on little tables,and some rooms have a bell right on the wall and we only need to pull a rope to make it sound.Any time we ring a bell,one of our people appears in whatever room we are in right away.I have my own special bells,smaller and higher-pitched than the others.Hannah used to answer my bell,but now Anna is supposed to.Sometimes I ring my bell in the middle of the night just to see if maybe Hannah would come visit me.But the only person who answers is Anna.I hardly ever see Hannah anymore,and I miss her.

At dinner,I think our family looks very silly when we don’t have any guests.We have a grand dining room,with a large chandelier lit with hundreds of candles.Our table is long,dark,and shiny.Twenty people can sit there if they want.But today there is only Mama,Papa,and me.Papa sits at one end of the table,and Mama at the other.I am in the middle,alone in a wooden island.Most days my new tutor Mr.Williams sits across from me,but he left to visit his family up North.Our meals can be very tiresome,so I have found a way to amuse myself.

Papa and Mama both seem to be in high spirits.The planting is done,and this always makes them happy.They are both drinking wine,and I sip lemonade.

“We’ll have the best cotton crop yet,this year,”Papa says.“The new hands made the work go twice as fast.”

Papa says a prayer,and then our slave butler and cook walk into the dining room with bowls of soup and quietly leave again.The soup has ham and beans in it,definitely not one of my favorites.I stir my spoon around in the bowl for a moment.Then I pick up my cloth napkin,throw it to the floor,and ring my little bell.

Anna walks into the room,still chewing.I know she is eating her own supper in the nearby kitchen,which is a separate building connected to our house by a little walkway.She probably knows better than to go all the way inside the kitchen house to eat by now.

“Pick up my napkin,”I say.

Anna obeys without a word and disappears.

Mama and Papa are talking about cotton prices between sips of soup.I force a spoonful down my throat and swing my legs back and forth.I can see a fiery sunset out the window,and long to be outside.I set my spoon on the table and knock it to the floor with my elbow,and ring my bell again.

Anna appears again,a silent figure who somehow seems to be both here and not here at the same time.

“I dropped my spoon and I need a clean one,”I say.

Anna picks up the spoon and turns to leave.

“When Elizabeth speaks to you,you must answer her with‘Yes,Miss,’”Papa says unexpectedly.

“Yes,Master,”Anna says,her voice barely audible.“I’ll get a new spoon for you right away,Miss Elizabeth.”

By the end of the meal I’ve dropped my fork,spilt my lemonade,and requested a new plate because the one I had was chipped.Papa and Mama never say anything when I ring my bell,but one time I think I hear Papa chuckle.

After dinner I’m dismissed and race outside;the sun is almost gone.Anna is behind me as usual.I just want to ride Old Clara.I run past the garden until I get to the stables and fenced-in paddocks where our horses graze.Our stable hands,Fred and Sam,are bringing the horses into the stable for the evening.There are rumors that Fred and Sam engage in abominations together,and are bound for hell.But they don’t seem altogether different from the rest of our people,so I regard their relationship as rather queer,but otherwise harmless.Both seem old to me,at least eighteen.They are very dark,especially compared to Anna.Fred is extremely tall and confident;an expert on horses.He has a thin beard and mustache,and hardly ever wears a shirt.Sam is medium-height and stocky.He always wears a black coachman hat.He’s much quieter than Fred,but always acts properly.

“Saddle Old Clara,”I say to them both.I forgot to put on my riding dress,but it’s too late for that now.

“Yes,Miss,”says Sam in a low voice.Fred is busy putting another horse in the stable.Sam puts a saddle and bridle on Old Clara,a brown mare whose back is curved the wrong way.Old Clara is the only horse I’m allowed to ride by myself,but Papa says I will get a horse of my own on my next birthday.

The horrible birthday present I got last year sits on a wooden fence rail as Sam helps me climb on Old Clara.I trot around the pasture as he walks away to collect another horse.I can hear the field slaves chanting and singing in the distance,walking to their quarters—a group of tiny huts past the stables and orchard—now that their work is done.I ride Old Clara until all the other horses are in the stable and the sun is so far down that I can’t see anymore.

“Put Old Clara in her stall and make sure you brush her very well,”I say when I ride her up to the stable door.

“Yes,Miss.Let me walk you to the big house first.”Fred ties Old Clara to a hitching post and picks up an oil lantern.He leads me home,the place all our slaves call the big house,with Anna at our heels.

I walk inside the large hall without another word to Fred,and he disappears.There is no one in the parlor.I sigh.Mama is probably upstairs in her sitting room and Papa in his study.I’m not allowed to bother them when they’re in their private rooms.There is nothing else to do but go upstairs to my little apartment,which has my very own sitting room and bedroom.I have no one to talk to or play with,though,so the rooms can be very lonely.The night is warm,so my fireplace does not need to be lit,but Anna has brought a candle with her and lights the candles on my dressing table and turns on my oil lamp.

“Get my nightgown,”I say.

“Yes,Miss,”Anna says.She picks one for me from the wardrobe and helps me out of my dress.Once my gown is on,I sit at my dressing table expectantly.Now Anna must brush my hair.

“I am just so tired,and must go to bed right away,”I say,mainly to fill the silence.I can hear nothing but crickets chirping outside my open window.

“Yes,Miss.”

“Don’t go to sleep until I’m asleep,”I say,climbing into my four-poster bed.The canopy overhead is the most beautiful flower pattern,and there are curtains that I can pull closed if I want to.But this makes me feel the loneliest of all,so I leave them open.