Episode 7

Phee rang the little bell furiously, then called out, “Miss Martin? Please come quickly!”

The chambermaid burst through the door, grabbed smelling salts from a drawer and held the vial under the dowager’s nostrils. Phee dampened a cloth and held it on her aunt’s forehead. Miss Eugenia came around, a bit confused. She looked from one woman to the other.

Miss Martin wrapped the older lady’s arm around her neck and got her to bed. Phee tried to help but felt the maid was more annoyed than thankful for the assistance.

“Nothing to be alarmed about, Miss.” Miss Martin was very business-like. “Older ladies often faint while having their daily constitutional and are constipated. They sit too long, become dizzy, and pass out. Did you not see her growing weak?”

Phee, embarrassed she had not noticed anything at all about her aunt, shook her head, then added, “She asked me to turn my back, so I was not able to see her face.”

“It is a good thing I was here today. I had Friday off to see a relative and am working on the Sabbath Day to compensate.”

Phee wondered if working on a Sunday was a terrible inconvenience. It certainly seemed so.

“Never you mind, Miss, they told me I only needed to listen for your great-aunt while I read the Bible. Since you were with her, I took a seat in the vestibule.” Miss Martin barely suppressed a scowl. “Not very comfortable there.”

Miss Eugenia quickly fell asleep.

“Miss Ophelia, might I suggest you run along? I will sit in here now and ensure of Miss Eugenia’s health and safety,” Miss Martin stated while motioning to the chamber door.

Phee still held the book, hiding it among her voluminous skirts. She had gone to Church earlier in the day and was still dressed for the occasion. Her dress billowed out four feet on all sides, making it easy to secrete her aunt’s treasure.

She quickly ascended the steps to her bedchamber, calling out to her father she was going to rest a while. She could not believe her good fortune in making away with the book she long coveted.

Phee decided to read as far as she could in whatever amount of time she had before needing to return the volume. She plopped down into the emerald-green wing chair near her bed and set to her task.

I made haste outside where I found Chief Half-Moon to tell him what transpired. He seemed concerned but not panicked. His first wife, Calming-Waters, a healer, accompanied him upstairs.

As word spread amongst the group, a youthful man who said he was a physician went inside despite the absence of an invitation. He perceived this was a serious situation involving a White woman and not just a Native cared for by her own.

I waited outside with the others. There was a Green Corn Dance performed to the delight of most of those present. I could not enjoy it, as my worries lay inside the house.

After an interminable time, Chief Half-Moon reappeared and went to converse with his guests. I watched as he stopped here and there. He did not appear distressed, but then, I did not see the smile and the dimples he once displayed in my presence.

Spotting me on the veranda, he strode over.

 I did not wait for him to speak before blurting out, “Please, tell me how Mrs. McQueen is faring? I am truly worried!”

“She requires rest. Several are caring for her, and they assured me of her wellbeing. I felt I could tend to my guests.”

He surveyed the crowd surrounding his home and spilling into the fields.

“The entire village is here, I suspect,” he said. He gazed at the clusters of people while continuing. “It is a splendid opportunity for them to be amongst the more refined citizens of Autauga and Montgomery Counties. There are others of the Creek Nation here, too.”

The chief looked down at me, being quite a bit taller, and noticed I remained upset.

“If you can remove the anguished look on your face, I will take you to her.” I brightened. Then I remembered how Zora told me my face cannot hide emotions.

“I am uncertain I can force my visage to be a particular way when I am feeling another,” I answered.

This time, his dimples showed themselves. “And yet, you are smiling when I thought such was not possible.”

I blushed when I realized how my countenance changes when this gentleman smiles at me. I was melting in the presence of a man with two wives, one of whom was fast becoming a friend.

My emotions tore at me. I wanted to learn how Zora was doing, yet believed it was time to take my leave. But Mr. McQueen took me by the elbow and led me inside. “Let us discover how my wife is faring, shall we?”

He did not let go except when placing his hand on the small of my back when I stumbled.

“Oh my. I believe my skirts have gotten the better of me,” I uttered, embarrassed.

Mr. McQueen took a firmer grip of my elbow, and then reached across to take my right hand in his own, his left finding its way again to my back. We were so close we had to walk in step and in rhythm to avoid tripping. I felt a very elegant gentleman was leading me to a ballroom, but we were already dancing. For a moment, I forgot where we were going and whom we were about to see. I could feel his breath on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. 

He steered me down the wide hallway toward a room I had not yet seen, but the doctor beckoned him.

“Mrs. McQueen must rest. She should continue with drinking water, and she may arise only when she can do so without apprehension of falling.”

The physician, whose name I understood to be Stevens, stated the heart is capricious. “Until the baby is born, she should stay in bed. She should never be in a position of worry but be kept quite content.”

Mr. McQueen excused himself, saying he needed to discuss a matter in private. 

The two gentlemen stepped down the hall. As I admired a painting of the man whom I recognized to be Zora’s fatherJudge Black, Zora’s father, I overheard Doctor Stevens say, “Wait until after the birth before resuming relations.”

Oh. My goodness.

Goodness, indeed! Ophelia stopped to consider all that was going on. She had read the initial baudy passage without knowing who the two would-be lovers were. But now, she felt she assured she had guessed correctly. Many hints pointed the way.

Just as she picked the volume back up off her lap, she heard a ringing of Auntie’s bell and Auntie’s weakened, yet distinct voice calling for her. Sound easily carried up the curved walnut steps and into Phee’s room.

“Now, Miss Eugenia, you need not ring the bell for Miss Ophelia. She is in her bedchamber, resting. But I assure you I shall fetch her in an hour or so.”

Miss Martin sounded firm, but Aunt Eugenia was insistent.

“Ophelia! I must speak with you!”

Phee reluctantly arose and descended the stairway, gazing out the stained glass bordered window as she passed the landing. At that time of day, the rose and blue tints cast their spell upon the flocked wallpaper lining the staircase.

Miss Martin met the young woman just outside the elderly lady’s chamber. Her left eyebrow arched, she whispered, “She in quite a state. Something about a book or journal she believes you stole.”