Morning of December 1, 1858
Macon, Georgia
Ellie sprinkled powdered sugar on six small triangular tea cakes, then arranged them neatly on a white china plate that she set on a highly polished silver tray. She picked up a soft cotton towel to brush off smudges of sugar clinging to her fingers. The afternoon light from an adjacent window warmed her skin, which was nearly as pale as the sugar.
“Ellie,” called Debra Collins from the adjacent sitting room. “We’re ready for tea.”
Ellie carried the try into the parlor where Miss Deb chatted with her guest, Mrs. Ann Henderson, a distant cousin visiting from somewhere up North. This was Mrs. Henderson’s first visit to the South, and she viewed her new surroundings with an attentive eye. She was a confident, handsome, and well-dressed woman of means wearing a deep blue jacket over a grey dress, her thick silver hair neatly tucked into a large bun on the back of her head.
Mrs. Henderson looked up as Ellie set the tray down on a table in front of the ladies and poured the tea. “Gracious, Debra,” she said with a smile. “This must be your sister – I see a family resemblance. Please introduce us.”
Not again, thought Ellie to herself as she and Miss Deb shared a glance. There was an uncomfortable pause.
“I am sorry, girls,” said Mrs. Henderson, “I fear I’ve said something wrong. It was not my intention to disturb the pleasure of our afternoon tea. Please forgive me if I have somehow offended you.”
Debra sighed as she watched Ellie pour the tea. “Ellie is a slave, Ann. She and I grew up and played together in the same house with my other friends, and when I married father gave Ellie to me as a gift. He knew that I would need someone trustworthy to help me manage this big house.”
“Your father gave Ellie to you as a bridal gift?” Mrs. Henderson asked, her eyes widening. “I’m afraid that I don’t understand. I apologize. I have little experience with slavery. I had no idea that a white person like Ellie could be one. I thought it was only Negroes.”
“I’m not white,” said Ellie firmly.
Mrs. Henderson gave her an inquisitive look. “You’re not?” she said.
Ellie and Miss Deb exchanged glances.
I wonder, thought Ellie, how she will handle our relationship in front of this stranger from the North. She found she was actually curious to watch, certain that Debra would not tell the truth concerning the family scandal.
“Ellie is what is referred to as a quadroon, Ann. Although her mother is a slave, she has some white ancestry, as well, which you see manifested in her very pale complexion.”
Yes, thought Ellie, one of those ancestors being your father.
“As for myself, I’m very happy to have Ellie with me. You will find, Ann, that contrary to what the abolitionists tell you up North the relationship between slave and mistress is uncommonly close, especially with domestic slaves. They are normally treated as family.”
And sometimes even are family, thought Ellie sardonically.
“I am often accused of overly indulging and spoiling Ellie, but I can’t help myself. She even has her own bedroom here in the house with us, almost as large as my own. Isn’t that right, Ellie?”
Debra held Ellie’s hand, so there was little for her to do but nod and smile.
“I’m afraid my mother didn’t treat poor Ellie very well,” continued Debra. “I mean, strangers often mistook her for one of my mother’s children because of her complexion, as you yourself have. So when I was married, father was only too happy to give me Ellie as a gift, and I’m happy to have her with me. So, it has worked out for the best.”
Yes, thought Ellie, I’m well rid of that old tyrant, and that’s true enough. At least Debra did not hate Ellie for who she was, even if she avoided discussing it.
“I’m happy to say that Ellie finally married not so very long ago,” said Debra while smiling at Ellie. “There was a time when I wondered if she ever would. I myself tried to arrange several marriages with other slaves, but Ellie would have none of it. Despite how lovely she is, I was afraid she’d turn into an old biddy, childless and alone. It’s just not natural for a woman of her health and beauty not to have a family.”
Ellie’s blood turned to ice. With an effort, she maintained her mask of good-natured serenity. Miss Deb had no idea why Ellie had so vehemently refused to marry. But Will changed all of that.
Debra winked at Ellie and said, “I hope we’ll see children soon. It’s been nearly two years and you’re not getting any younger, Ellie. My own child could use a playmate.”
“I don’t want children,” said Ellie. She couldn’t stop herself from saying it, although it wasn’t precisely the truth. She yearned for a child of her own, a baby born of her love for Will, yet at the same time the thought of having children was an agony.
“Of course you want children,” Debra said. “Every woman wants children.”
She waved her hand at Mrs. Henderson. “But I know her problem, Ann. She’s afraid of childbirth. After all, she was here for my delivery and it was quite difficult. I nearly died and that’s enough to scare any young woman. I’ll never forget how distressed Ellie was. I think it frightened her more than it did me. I was touched by her affection, and it’s exactly what I mean by that special bond between Ellie and myself, Ann. It’s something you really have to experience to understand.”
Ellie could have laughed at Miss Deb’s naiveté. She had, in fact, feared deeply for Debra’s life, but for reasons she would never guess. If Miss Deb had died, Ellie would almost certainly have been sold, very probably to a location even further South from her family. And since Ellie was fair skinned and attractive, the likelihood of rape in a new home was a real possibility. Debra’s humorless husband had little to recommend him, but, thank God, he showed little interest in Ellie since her marriage to William.
Debra turned back to Ellie. “But you mustn’t worry, dear. My delivery went fine and I’m sure yours will, too. You’re not as fragile as you look, and I’ve lived with you long enough to know. You’re thin but you’re nearly as strong as a man.
“Oh, but look Ann at how pale she’s become. And I declare, her hands are shaking! You really do fear it, don’t you? But you mustn’t. You really mustn’t. You’ll just love having children of your own, Ellie. I know you will. Giving birth is over before you even know it and then you have a lifetime of joy. My own child is a gift from God and there isn’t a day I don’t count my blessings for having him.”
But no one can tear your baby from your arms and sell him, thought Ellie. Debra was right that her hands were trembling, although not only with fear, but also from the agony of wanting what she could not have, and she clasped them together behind her back to steady them.
“Ellie met a young buck named William Craft,” continued Debra. “He’s a cabinet maker and owned by a very fine gentleman who’s employed by our local bank. Of course, my husband doesn’t approve of slaves marrying outside the home. It creates problems when it comes to spending enough time together, and that can breed discontent.” Miss Deb smiled at Ellie. “But I spoke up for you, didn’t I, Ellie?”
Ellie nodded. She did owe her intense happiness with William to Debra’s support of the marriage, because Mr. Collins would otherwise never have allowed it. But at the same time, Ellie resented that she was supposed to be grateful for being allowed to make a decision that by rights should have been hers alone in the first place. Like a child, she had to ask permission to do what she wanted, even if what she wanted was to seal her love for William with a vow.
Debra continued, “You see, Ann, this is exactly what I mean, and something you Northerners simply cannot or will not understand. I just want Ellie to be happy. I could see how much she wanted William. Well, if she didn’t marry him I was afraid she might not marry at all, and I couldn’t have that. So I put my foot down, and, well, naturally Colonel Collins had to give in and let me have my way. In fact, Ellie and William were married in this very house and her husband now stays with her here after work. So you see, she really is family to me.”
Mrs. Henderson gazed at Ellie quizzically, and then turned back to Debra. She paused for a moment before saying, “This may be an awkward thing to ask, but all of these ideas are so foreign and strange to me, and I’m not sure that I fully understand what all of it means. For example, you say you and Ellie are loving friends, yet Ellie is also in your possession. Why does she remain your slave? Couldn’t you free her and she could work for you?”
Debra chuckled grimly and said, “You have to be careful, Ann. Many would take great offense at even the hint of such a suggestion. My husband for instance. I quite understand that being from the North you wouldn’t know better. Goodness knows the kinds of lies and slander you hear up there about us. I tell you plainly, it’s nothing but Northern jealousy for the Southerner’s superior way of life. As you see, Ellie is quite content with her station in life and has no desire whatsoever to be free. I mean, what would she want with freedom anyway? She has all she needs -- a loving home, a beautiful house, a husband and food and clothing. She confidently speaks the language of her educated masters. What more could she possibly desire?”
“It’s just,” said Ann, glancing at Ellie, “well, she really is white, isn’t she? I could never tell that she had any African blood in her at all.”
“Do you consider yourself white?” Miss Deb asked Ellie.
“No, I do not. My mother and husband are Negroes, and I see nothing wrong with that. By all rights, I should have been born with darker skin.” Debra might have paid closer attention if Ellie had explained that her pale skin color and blue eyes were permanent and painful reminders of an act of sexual violence against her mother by Debra’s own father. Her color was a token of shame and anger, not of pride.
“You see?” said Debra. “If she were truly white, she would never consider marrying a darkie like William. I mean, can you imagine any real white woman entertaining such a thought? Granted that there are white men who fall prey to the animal lures of the Negress.”
Including your father, thought Ellie.
“That’s natural with men, although it’s also sinful and to be avoided. But so many of these African women are without moral inhibitions, and they want to seduce powerful white men for the status it brings to them and to any of the offspring they have. Men are susceptible to weaknesses of the flesh. But a white woman, a true white woman looking with desire at a Negro man, well, could you even imagine it? And you should see William. He’s as black as any African just off the boat. Which just proves my point that Ellie may have the appearance of a white woman, but she is African under the skin and has an African character. And that character is just naturally dependent. She’s as happy as a cat curled up next to a fire on a cold winter’s night in this home. Isn’t that so, Ellie?”
Ellie closed her mind to the rest of Debra’s speech about freedom, desire, and skin color. She hated it when Debra talked like this. How could any woman of sound mind believe such nonsense? I may love you as my half sister, thought Ellie, but I am also ashamed that the blood of your reprehensible father runs through my veins. And if you really love me as your sister, why do you keep me like a caged bird?
And as for Debra’s comments about Will and other Negro men, it was hard for Ellie to believe Debra was as stupid as she so often sounded. Pale skinned Ellie loved and desired her black skinned Will more than anything in her life. As she thought of him, she could feel his fingers digging passionately into her back as he took her in his arms after a long day of work. It was the power of those moments that made her caged life worth living.
What did freedom mean to Ellie? She remembered a dark afternoon when she was ten years old and had a heated argument with Miss Deb about her longing to learn to read. She deeply resented that Debra attended school. It was against the law to educate slaves. “You were born to a nigger woman and a slave, and that makes you a nigger slave,” she remembered Miss Deb shouting while Ellie, tears running down her face, raced across the lawn and down a dirt lane seeking the comfort of her solitude.
“Do you have any desire to be free, Ellie?” Debra’s question broke into Ellie’s thoughts. “Ellie? Did you hear me?”
Ellie pulled her lips into the practiced smile of a survivor. “I have a good home with you, Miss Deb. What would I do with freedom?”
“You see, Ann?” said Debra. “This is just what I’ve been telling you.”
Mrs. Henderson stared up into Ellie’s face, searching her expression. A fear swept through Ellie that this woman could see behind her eyes into her mind. There were many thoughts and feelings Ellie knew she must keep strictly hidden from the white world.
Ellie’s apprehension eased when Mrs. Henderson gave her a half smile, as if to say, ‘Do not take me for the fool Debra Collins is.’ There was kindness in her gaze.
Ellie, however, did not respond to Mrs. Henderson’s look. If there was one thing she knew, it was never to trust a white. Her mind was the only part of her they could not have and would never know. Not if she could help it.
Mrs. Henderson nodded and looked back to Debra. “Well, I can see I have much to learn, Cousin Debra. You have been most instructive.”