Darkness

March 30, 1812

Stephen

This ended up being far more involved an outing than I had intended. When Moses told me that he really needed to return to Natchez for supplies since he hadn’t managed to get what we needed last time, I decided to go with him. I told him that I wanted to talk to my brother about the mineral water experiment, which made him happy. He’s as invested in returning Marcus to good health as any of us.

But I have other reasons as well. I want to see Gregor, and see if he has recuperated from the unfortunate whipping incident. It’s been nine or ten days, so presumably he is starting to recover. I know Samuel will have done everything possible to keep the wounds clean and free from infection as they heal.

There’s another reason too. After everything I heard about what happened that day, I’m not entirely sure it is safe for Moses to be going alone into Natchez any more. I want to see for myself what is happening in town. If the slave patrol is really bullying all the black people in Natchez, whether slave or free, that will interfere with my ability to conduct business. In addition, of course, to it being an ugly and unfair way to run a town. It feels like things have grown darker than they were when I lived there, before I got married, back when life seemed simpler to me.

When I tell Margaret that I plan to accompany Moses into town, she immediately says that she would love to go as well, and visit with Rosy to see the baby, and that as long as she is going then Dalila and Ayola might as well come along. Then, she pointed out, perhaps we can visit my Aunt and Uncle Postlethwaite, perhaps have dinner with them before we return home. She’d like to see their little ones as well. My wife has become increasingly interested in children, I have noticed, now that she is expecting. It is quite charming.

So here we are all loaded into the carriage, Moses on top to drive. Dalila offers to sit up there with him so that the cab won’t be too crowded, and Margaret tells her that is fine, and she will mind Ayola in the cab with us.

I gaze out the window as we begin the drive, expecting a peaceful ride, and am surprised to hear the child’s tiny little voice pipe up. “Thank you for helping Marcus,” she says, and I stare down at her with complete astonishment. I know she can speak, of course, despite her extreme youth, but I really don’t spend that much time around her and it surprises me to hear how intelligible her speech is. And to hear her introduce this topic. How does this baby know anything at all about it?

Margaret chuckles at my confounded expression. “Er, you’re welcome,” I respond to the little slave, not wanting my wife to think I am an impolite oaf.

“Is the water helping him?” the child asks, an uncanny expression of total understanding on her face. Am I expected to converse with a toddler about medical treatment? I look from her to my wife, as though she might have some explanation for this behavior.

Margaret graces me with her soft smile, then her blue eyes rest on the little girl with an expression of such utter fondness that my heart melts. She loves this child, I can clearly see. She looks back up at me and says, “Ayola has befriended Marcus, and has been very concerned for his health. She often asks to bring him water or snacks when Dalila goes to the garden. And she has overheard you talking about the mineral water. She understands more than you realize, Stephen, darling.”

Ayola watches Margaret during this little speech, then casts her caramel-colored eyes back to me, expectantly.

Well, fine then. Maybe this will prepare me for my conversation about the same topic later with my brother. I look down at her, and tell her, although of course she cannot possibly understand any of this, “I think it might be helping. He has been drinking a little bit every morning, and every evening, and he seems somewhat stronger to me.” Perhaps this long statement will confuse her and she will lose interest.

But she nods solemnly. “Me too,” she says, as though she is the tiniest doctor in the world, “and the sore on his leg went away too. And he is stronger. He even picked me up yesterday. He couldn’t do that before.”

My mouth drops open in amazement at how totally verbal she is, and Margaret laughs at me. I have to smile at the child. “Well, then, Doctor Ayola,” I tell her, teasingly, “since you can see that the treatment is working, what are your theories about his illness? What was causing his trouble in the first place?”

I grin up at my wife, hoping that she is enjoying this silly game. I wait to hear what funny little thing the girl will say next.

“I think that his blood is wrong,” the child says in her baby voice, and the smile leaves my face. How does she know that? Did she hear me discussing the anemia diagnosis with Samuel? When was she around while we talked about it? I can’t remember. But how would she even know that was related to blood? I’m afraid that I am frowning when I look back up at Margaret. She seems utterly unperturbed, though.

Ayola continues, “His blood will never really be right, but the water will help him feel better. Thank you for giving it to him.” She looks at me with her pretty little eyes, lined with thick dark lashes, looking like nothing but an adorable little slave baby, but sounding like she possesses the wisdom of the ages.

It is quite unsettling. I feel a strange combination of admiration, confusion, astonishment, and just a little touch of fear. It seems somehow unnatural. But my wife loves the child, it is clear, so I just say to her again, “You are welcome. I’m glad it is helping.”

The rest of the ride into Natchez is quiet.

Gregor’s

“The Duncans are coming from Homochitto to visit, beloved,” I tell him, “accompanied by Moses, Dalila and Ayola.”

“Really?” he says, cheered by this news. He is sitting in his dock office, rather than joining the crew with the construction projects, because many of them continue to seem to find it awkward to be in his presence. He has tried everything he can think of to try to get the situation to revert to normal, but the Guardians and humans cannot shake their new sense of Gregor as an unusual and somehow mystical being. He has started spending more time isolated, just because it makes them uncomfortable to see him trying to fit in, joking around, lending a hand. And it makes him deeply sad to see their discomfort. He had loved the easy camaraderie that his crew shared with him, and he longs to find a way to return to it. I don’t know whether he ever can.

He sets aside the account books he has been perusing, puts his coat back on, and leaves his office. He tells David, who is manning the ticket booth, “I’m taking the rest of the day off, but I’ll be at home if anyone needs me.” David nods amiably, and Gregor gives him a smile. David is one of the few crew members who seems ready to treat Gregor normally, never having really changed his cheeky attitude. Gregor cherishes him for this.

Next he goes to the steamboat, where the Bakers are working, preparing the ship for their departure in two days. A routine has become established after two months of operation, in which the boat takes four days to journey in each direction, then stays in port for five or six days between trips. This means that the round trip takes about two weeks, before being repeated. The time in port is increasingly busy, with the passenger list and cargo filling the hold increasing each time. The steamboat is already very much in demand and has become quite profitable, far more than any of the partners had anticipated.

He finds Baker in the engine room, lovingly tending the machinery. The captain looks up when he hears Gregor’s footsteps on the little stairway. Gregor grins at him. “Can’t stay away from the engine, can you?”

Baker pats the huge cylinder, smiling. “This beast is my best friend. It’s nice to spend some time with it.” He wipes his hands with a towel. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m just here to let you know that I’m heading home. I’ll be having my friends the Duncans over for a visit. I’m not sure if they’ll still be there when you come up later.”

Baker nods. “Say hello to them for me if we don’t get there before they go.” He is already absorbed in his task again before Gregor gets back on deck.

When Gregor arrives at home, I tell him, “Rosalind is in the nursery feeding the baby.”

He moves through the kitchen, greeting the staff, but not telling them who is coming to visit, since he has no plausible way to know this. Then he climbs the stairs to join his wife. He quietly enters the nursery, and she looks up from the rocking chair where she is holding the child to her breast, and her smile as always warms his heart.

He has had a hard time feeling cheerful since the whipping incident. His increasing sense of isolation is very depressing to him, reminding him of past years that he spent utterly alone. He dreads returning to such a state. When he tries to interact normally with others, he forces himself to smile and appear happy. It is very difficult when he can see, even without my pointing it out, that almost everyone’s eyes are guarded when they deal with him, or worshipful, or frightened. Few people seem able to treat him as just another person, and it is very wearing on him. Rosalind’s company is incredibly soothing after a day filled with such exchanges.

“He’s almost asleep,” she whispers, and he nods, and leaves her to finish settling the baby.

When she joins him in their room, he draws her into his arms as always. “The Duncans are coming for a visit,” he tells her.

“Ah!” She leans back to inspect him. “Do you need to clean up?”

He looks down at his unsullied clothing. “No,” he sighs. “I wasn’t doing anything dirty, just sitting in my office.” He misses the physical labor that he used to enjoy.

She understands, but doesn’t dwell on it. “Who all is coming?” she asks.

“They’re bringing Moses and Dalila and Ayola with them,” he smiles down at her.

“Well good!” she says, giving him a squeeze. “Some woosh with Ayola will cheer you right up!”

He chuckles. “You’re so right.” He gives her a gentle kiss, ever grateful for her acceptance and understanding.

While they move into the parlor to wait for their guests, Misty is keeping me updated as the Duncan carriage travels the route to Natchez. I relay to Gregor the details of Ayola’s conversation with Stephen. He stares unseeingly at the page of his open book while I tell him, “Ayola has initiated a conversation in the carriage with Stephen regarding the medical treatment of Marcus.”

“Is that so?” he thinks silently to me, amused, and listens as I repeat their discussion about the effect of the mineral water on the boy’s illness. He believes this is very cute, and I must agree.

“They have ended their discussion,” I tell him. “Misty suggested to Ayola that Stephen was beginning to feel uncomfortable discussing the topic with such a young person, so she has stopped asking questions.”

He frowns slightly. “Stephen is uncomfortable?” he silently asks.

“It seems very strange to him that such a young child can even speak clearly, much less propound medical theories and discuss treatments. It seems uncanny to him.”

He is bothered by this, and wonders what he should do about it. Should he caution Ayola to be more discreet?

“Remember, darling, that Misty is there to guide Ayola, and will do so with a far greater understanding than I had when you were young. We must trust them to make their way through life, just as you have. We will be there to help them, but Ayola is also going to have to learn from experience how to behave.”

He sighs.

Rosalind glances up from her embroidery hoop. “What is it?” she asks. She can sense that he is troubled by something that I have told him.

He quietly tells her, “It seems that Ayola has slightly alarmed Stephen with her conversational skills.”

Her lips twitch. “Well, if he just paid more attention to her, it wouldn’t be so alarming. Everyone else around her knows how well she can speak.”

He smiles. “You’re not wrong about that.”

“They are arriving,” I tell him.