What Happened In Paradise?

The Past: Sell Her!

Ernestine sits at the edge of the bed; she buries her face in her hands; sobs into them. Tears flow through her fingers, down her hand, settling at her elbows. She cries as Suzanna cries. Phoebe enters the room, takes the baby out, rocks, and tries to hush her.

“If you do not get her crying under control, you will have more than a dead lover to mourn.” Bee hands the baby to Ernestine. Ernestine looks away from the child. “Feed the damn child.”

Ernestine examines Bee, tightens her jaw. She takes the baby, pulls out her breast, and plops it into the baby’s mouth.

“Let’s see this child of yours, Ernestine.” Mistress Palmer pushes the door open and enters the room.

Phoebe nods, curtsies. “Mistress…” She backs out of the room.

“Wow…” The Mistress swallows hard. “She almost looks human. She could almost pass for one of us.”

Ernestine keeps her eyes on the floor.

“But your kind can’t hide for long. I’m sure once the sun touches her, she’ll even out. Just as the other one did.” Mistress Palmer touches the bassinet with her index finger, raises the finger to her eye, her face tight with a grimace. “Be sure to get all of this crying under control. I will not be losing sleep because of your God-forsaken spawn.” Mistress Palmer rubs her index and thumb together, flashes her hand, then saunters from the room - her back straight and her long neck appearing longer.

***

“Christ, Ernestine. You’ll have to do something about that whining infant.” With a strong hand, Mistress Palmer lowers her cup. It clatters on the saucer, spilling hot chocolate over the sides, onto the saucer, and onto the table cloth. “She cries every blessed day.”

Ernestine stares at the brown liquid seeping into the table. The essence of Maxwell stands next to her and watches the exchange. He wants to whisper to Ernestine that she should try. She should try to do as Nana says: keep the master's favour; let Suzanna reap any good that is to be had in this house.

“Clean this up,” Mistress Palmer orders, waving her hand over the table.

Ernestine continues to stare at the brown stain.

“Did you hear me?” Mistress Palmer asks. She pushes her chair out, rises to her feet. Master Palmer exhales heavily, rolls his eyes. He stuffs a piece of johnnycake into his mouth and sips his coffee.

“The crying baby…and you…” Mistress Palmer points at Ernestine. “You’re damn near useless.” Mistress Palmer slaps Ernestine across the face. “I said, clean this up.”

“That’s enough!” Master Palmer glares at his wife, his nostrils flaring.

Ernestine snaps out of her trance. “Sorry…sorry. Sorry, Master Palmer.” Ernestine bows, dips into a curtsy. “I going clean it up right away.”

“Phoebe will take care of it,” Master Palmer says. “Have a seat.” He points to Mistress Palmer’s chair.

The Mistress mumbles but takes her seat.

“Ernestine, feed the child,” Master Palmer says. “And have Joseph meet me in the study after he’s had breakfast.”

Ernestine dips her head. “Okay, Master Palmer.” She hurries to the door.

“Useless, useless, useless,” Mistress Palmer says. “Sell them. We should sell the whole lot of them.”

“Let’s not enter into a discussion about usefulness.” Master Palmer rises and leaves the room.