CHAPTER 9—INDENTURE TURMOIL

 22 APRIL 1851 [1181]

The unraveling of Black Judith’s behavior, a slow descent into chaos and unpredictability, casts a shadow of shame and embarrassment over our household. Whispers of disapproval and judgment follow in her wake like a sinister refrain. The shaking heads of our friends and acquaintances speak volumes of their disapproval, a silent indictment of our perceived failings and shortcomings.

The question lingering in the air haunts my thoughts: What is going through Judith’s mind? What other consequences will arise from her reckless behavior?

Today, I signed a legal document in which my husband once again pledged his shop, our home, and some of our slaves as collateral for a loan. This time, the creditor demanded that I relinquish my dower rights if John defaults. This transaction is no longer a friendly agreement sealed with a handshake, perhaps because of Mr. Erving‘s law partner overseeing both his business and legal affairs.

Because I can see the necessity of my spouse expanding his gin shop—which is now a full-fledged factory—I do not object to borrowing. However, the assets he is pledging far exceed what he is receiving. 

We discussed this in the library. The scent of old parchment and aged leather filled the room, once a sanctuary of knowledge and contemplation, now transformed into a battlefield of business and ambition.

“Dearest,” said I, “please explain to me your precise thinking of why you pledge the particular slaves you do. I believe I know, but I wish to hear your reasoning.”

John put down the document he was examining and cocked his head sideways.

“I have pledged the same slaves as before, Louisa, except I added more children who have been born to Ellen. This is nothing new.”

I crossed my arms over my chest but did not raise my voice nor otherwise convey any disagreement. No, I said to myself, I was merely curious. But he sat mute, apparently assuming this would be the end of the discussion. However, I was anxious to share my theory which I think is an obvious one. 

“Here is what I believe. I think you consider Bill to be expendable. He may not toil in your shop, but his contributions to our family, though humble, are no less valuable. And Ellen, sweet Ellen, and her children...why would you consider them as mere pawns in your game of commerce and ambition?” The words tumbled out of my mouth, a torrent of emotion and accusation that I could no longer contain.

The scratch of his neck, a familiar gesture in moments of uncertainty, only fueled the fire of my indignation. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on his face, highlighting the furrowed brow and pursed lips, a portrait of a man caught in the throes of his own moral dilemma.

I continued with my inquiry. “Should we completely disregard Ellen and the children? If she had been White, she could have been our daughter-in-law and they our grandchildren.”

John’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. The truth, stark and unyielding, stared back at him from the depths of my gaze. The room seemed to grow colder as we stood locked in a silent battle of wills and values. But was this turmoil worth the disruption in our marital life?

“I can now understand why you could find it easier to sell Ellen and her children. And as for Judith...” 

I hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. But I forged ahead, the tremor in my voice betraying the storm of emotions raging within me. “There was a time when anger consumed me at the thought of you risking what I once believed to be our most precious servant. Judith stood us as a constant presence, a gift from Uncle which I held dear.”

A soft knock interrupted the tense atmosphere, a gentle intrusion that disrupted the fragile balance of our conversation. The door to the library, usually left ajar to allow the circulation of air, now stood closed, a barrier between us and the outside world.

“Enter,” John’s voice called out, a mask of composure that barely concealed the turmoil beneath the surface. It was Sally. Had she overheard our discussion? After she tended to the fire and retreated to the kitchen, I seized the moment to resume our discussion.

“Judith has proven to be quite a challenge, my love.”

His brow furrowed in thought. “Tell me more.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before plunging into the heart of the matter.

“You must have noticed her demeanor, the way she carries herself with an air of indifference and aloofness.” My words tumbled out in a rush of emotion. “She walks the streets with detachment, the world around her nothing but a fleeting illusion. And what troubles me most is her indifference not only to us but also to Ellen and her children, as if their presence no longer matters.

John’s expression softened with a hint of surprise. “I had not observed this.”

“Surely, dearest, you saw her twirling a parasol as bright as the sun down the middle of Main Street,” I implored, the image vivid in my mind’s eye.

“I suppose I caught a glimpse of her in such extravagant attire. Perhaps it is indeed time to have a heart-to-heart with her.”

“If you can even find her,” I interjected, a note of frustration creeping into my tone. I was uncertain he grasped the gravity of the situation. He is always the optimist, an admirable quality, but sometimes it does not serve him well. “She flits in and out like a shadow. It baffles me how no one ever bothers to question her. I suppose it is a testament to the reverence you command in this community, my beloved.”

John seemed pleased with my comments. At one point such a statement would have been met with protests that I was being proud and immodest.

“Let us try, then, after the evening meal.” Hope flickered in his eyes, a beacon of resolve in the face of uncertainty.

A new and unexpected revelation struck me.

“What I am endeavoring to express is... my dear, I no longer oppose the idea of including Judith in the indenture.” I uttered this to my surprise. Has it come to this? “However, I vehemently object to the inclusion of Ellen and her children.”

John’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his features a mask of bewilderment and contemplation. “I had no inkling of your sentiments.”

“Nor did I realize until this very hour,” I confessed. With a deep breath, I mustered the courage to continue. “To be honest, she vexes me beyond measure.”

I refrained from mentioning my deep-seated fear that Judith was on the brink of fleeing. I could almost see her striding boldly out of town, a valise clutched in her hand, her determined gaze fixed on a distant horizon.

A sudden rap at the door shattered the fragile tranquility of our conversation, the sound cutting through the silence. Sally’s unexpected intrusion startled us both. How long had she stood on the other side?