Chapter 5

Elizabeth stood up and slowly paced around the room while stretching her aching back and legs in a cat-like manner. It was three weeks since she and Sally were dragged ashore and shoved into a dank, sparsely furnished and poorly lit room. The small window, that was far too high above the floor for either of them to see out of, afforded their only cool, fresh air.  This came only in the wee hours of the morning before the blazing Charles Town sun arose high in the sky and turned their tiny room by the sea into a veritable steam room. The intense heat accentuated the pungent smells of the active streets beyond the confines of the tiny, box-like prison.

They were told little about where they were or what fate lay in store for them. Although no one touched Elizabeth in the same manner as the captain, Sally was not so lucky. At least once daily and sometimes more often, she was forcefully dragged out of the room, kicking, and screaming, and returned several hours later, bruised, and subdued. Unable to stop what was happening and not knowing what to say, Elizabeth remained silent while doing her best to make Sally as comfortable as she could during the time the once happy house maid was allowed a reprieve from the assaults and invasions of her person.

As the door was opened and the poor girl once again tossed into the room, Elizabeth managed to peer past the filthy, burly man, who delivered her maid so unceremoniously.  She managed to see that they were on a very busy street near the sea port. The docks were visible and the smell of rotting fish was acute. She covered her nose with her hands and held her breath while she waited for the roughhewn door to slam shut and the thick iron lock to turn.

Elizabeth stared with pity and remorse as Sally sat crumpled just inside the door. The once comely companion’s bonnet had long gone missing and her thick, waist length auburn hair, which had not seen a wash or a comb since their capture, clung to her head in a matted mess. Her originally crisp, white apron was coated with dirt and dried blood.

Was it Sally’s blood? Elizabeth thought so. She pinched her eyes shut when Sally’s bruised and bloody face looked up at her. The sparkling light in her green eyes that once danced with hope and dreams of a new life was replaced with a deathly dullness.

“’Tis not what I thought ‘twould be like; coming here,” Sally moaned as she held the corner of her apron to her nose in an effort to stop its bleeding. “I wish I never stepped foot on that bloody ship.”

Elizabeth rushed to Sally’s side and fell down beside her. She agreed with the poor girl completely. If she experienced any regrets at all, it was trading the safety of her husband’s arms and boarding that ship of ill repute. Cradling the weeping woman, she allowed her own tears to flow and rocked Sally until both their tears dried in thick streaks down their cheeks.

Blood from Sally’s nose soaked Elizabeth’s sleeve, but she made no move to pull away. Some things were more important than attire. She only wished she was not so powerless in this situation. She wished even harder to know why Dr. Jameson had not managed to secure their rescue. He certainly would have had ample time by now.

“They beat me, miss,” Sally cried softly. “They ripped at me clothes an’ did things to me person that no man ought to do. Look,” she wailed as she lifted the shredded edge of her light weight muslin skirt, “they tore me skirts while they laughed.”

Elizabeth shuddered. Although she was unclear exactly what was meant when Sally referred to ‘things had been done to her person that no man should do’, she suffered at the hands of that vile captain, and, on a much lesser scale, from her drunken husband on her wedding night. Thus, she possessed a vague idea of what Sally was referring to. The thought of men, one after the other, touching her companion in that way was unthinkable. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth longed to be a man. If she were a man, she would beat them all to a point near death.

“I am sorry I could not stop them, Sally. I truly am,” she moaned.

“I know, miss. ‘Tis not your fault. ‘Tis me own fault for stabbing the captain like I did,” Sally replied.

“You did the right thing. He... he was... well, you know,” Elizabeth stammered.

Her cheeks flushed even more than their normal rosiness as she thought about the fact that Sally witnessed her shame.

Sally chuckled wryly as she said, “Oh hell, miss. he was only doing what men do. I should have let him finish and then we could have been on our way and no one would be the wiser to look at you. Instead, I condemned us to this life of misery.”

Elizabeth gasped, “I cannot believe you would say such a thing!”

“Which? The fact that I should have let him have his way with you or that I’ve condemned us for life?” Sally spat.

“Why... both,” Elizabeth replied.

Sally threw her head back and laughed a sad laugh, sending curdling shivers down Elizabeth’s spine.

“Miss, you are a naive one, ain’t you?” she said. “Do you even know what they are planning for us?”

Elizabeth stared at her waiting maid with shocked surprise. What had come over her? It must have been the trauma of the latest events. Even so, she should not speak to her mistress in a manner that was beginning to reek of contempt.

Sally pulled her body to its full height as best she could while remaining seated on the floor.

“Well miss, let me fill you in,” Sally spat.

“I am sure I do not appreciate the tone you are using with me, Sally,” Elizabeth clipped.

Elizabeth was fully aware that Sally was new to serving her mistress, but this type of familiarity, which bordered on contempt, was not acceptable under any circumstances. Elizabeth was of noble status, and as such expected to be treated so. It did not matter that she was traveling incognito. Sally knew her true identity. Well, not fully.  Sally believed her to be Lady Elizabeth Nottingham. Elizabeth told no one of her marriage to the future Duke of Eastwick.

“I guess it don’t much matter wha’ you appreciate anymore, miss. Since you and me are equals now. I shall be serving you no more,” Sally purged.

The hostility in Sally’s voice was as shocking as her words. It stung like a slap in Elizabeth’s face.

“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth was at a loss for words.

“It seems the good doctor was no match for the captain,” Sally practically hissed.  “He ran off with your money and left us to the mercy of these ruffians. You are just as poor and helpless as any woman out on the street. In two more days, if the bastard who had his way with me was telling truth, you go to the slave auction an’ I shall be working on a floating brothel... whatever that is. It sounds like a dream life; don’t it miss?” She laughed sarcastically. “Forget about being a lady. Those days are gone. You ain’t no lady here,” Sally said with snarled sarcasm.

“This cannot be true!” Elizabeth screeched.

Why was Sally being so cruel?

Sally’ tone softened as she continued, “Ah, but that ain’t the worst of it.”

“There is more?” Elizabeth said as she fell onto the room’s only cot in disbelief.

“For you there is, miss. Not for me,” Sally replied. Compassion floated briefly over her face as she looked at Elizabeth like one would look at someone for the first time. “The captain is telling people that you have darky blood in you. You are to be sold at auction with the other darkies that he had in the ship’s hold with us. I saw their eyes, but I did not know who they were, did you?” She wrinkled her nose, “That must have been the stench that kept coming up so strong.”

Elizabeth jumped to her feet.

“That’s preposterous!” she screeched. “I am nothing of the kind. How can he even say such a thing? Just look at me. Do I look like a darky?”

“Well, miss,” Sally hesitated, “‘Tis hard to say. Your white for sure, but then the men say that lots of darkies get the black bred out of them by plantation owners. This new country has plenty of darkies that look white working in the main house. Most of them are the sons and daughters of the master. You only need a drop of darky blood to be labeled a darky... only a drop. Then there is...,” Sally stopped, as if afraid to continue.

“There is what?” Elizabeth snapped.

The pitiful woman took a deep breath before answering.

“Your hair, miss. ‘Tis black as night and as thick and unruly as a darky’s hair. I don’t rightly recall ever seeing a white noble woman with hair such as yours,” Sally cooed with a sinister tone.

Elizabeth was taken even more aback when she realized how much pleasure Sally experienced delivering the horrendous news of her fate. The thought made her seethe with rage.

The maid’s superior satisfaction faded and she gasped with regret for her words and attitude when she saw the look on Elizabeth’s face. She quickly leaned back to avoid the blow the enraged woman looked capable of delivering at any moment.

To calm herself, Elizabeth focused on her breathing. She filled her lungs with the putrid air she had gradually grown accustomed to and let it out in a slow, concentrated manner. She could hardly contain her anger. Slapping Sally would have eased some of it, but she could not do such a thing to someone who already suffered an extensive amount of abuse no matter how badly the girl needed to be put in her place.

“You have never seen any noblewoman’s real hair; silly twit,” Elizabeth growled. “You have only seen the wigs or caps they wear. House maids do not have the privilege of seeing a woman with her hair in its natural state, like a waiting maid would.”

Sally looked to Elizabeth in stunned silence at the realization of the truth of her former mistress’ statement. Quiet echoed between the two women for the remainder of the afternoon. When a burly, foul smelling sailor came and yanked Sally away once again, Elizabeth was actually relieved. Sally’s new found boldness and open resentfulness was stifling.

Elizabeth needed time to think about the news Sally presented, as well as Sally’s new treatment of her. How was she to cope with all of this? She knew all too well the type of kindness she extended to the servants was a rarity. For her to be placed in a position where others could reap cruelty upon her at their leisure was unconscionable. What added to its severity was the fact that she knew full well she would not be able to hide her pampered background from the other servants. Resentment would be sure to arise, just as it had with Sally.

When the ruffian’s finally returned her former servant to the room a few hours later, Sally was sporting even more bruises and blood. Although Elizabeth questioned how long the woman would be able to survive under such cruel conditions, she made no move to comfort her. A wall was formed between them from the contempt that Sally so clearly held for her mistress.