Charity & Phillips

Chapter 12

After arriving on the attic level of the house, Charity made her way to her tiny room. Others on the level looked and whispered to each other. They wondered what Charity had been occupied with so late at night. They knew Mr. Phillips allowed her to eat at the table.

Amongst the women, there was jealousy. Charity's youth and beauty was enough to make one envy her. But now not only was she delicate, but she had the likes of Mr. Phillips as well.

The men wondered about her. They wanted to know if it was sexual favors she'd provided to Mr. Phillips. And some considered arriving at her door for the same services.

Charity rested that night peacefully. She hadn't known of their jealousy and envy, for she was too innocent to comprehend it. She wanted so much to be included in the community amongst the others. No one dared befriended her. Not even the indentured servants.

The next day, Charity walked confidently into Mr. Phillip's study to retrieve the rag. Nearby working girls whispered to each other, glaring at her over their dusters.

"Who does she think she is?" One whispered. "Walking into the study like that?"

"I heard Mr. Phillips allows her to read at night." Another mumbled. "I'm sure while she reads to him, he's trying to read her backside."

The other lady swooped around to a vase in the foyer in an attempt to get a closer look at the library. "She's going through his drawer. The one he insisted we do not touch!"

Charity looked around nervously, not noticing her onlookers. Quickly she snuck the rag into the deep pocket of her skirt, then smoothed the fabric over. The two slave girls noticed her swiping the rag. They beheld it as if it were theft.

"I'm sure that would get her in trouble." One gossip companion whispered. "She might lose her hand!"

"We should tell Mr. Phillips of her treachery toward his kindness." The other laughed. "His little favorite is good no more."

"No— already has she a spell on his reasoning." One squinted. "We shall tell Mr. Taylor. I'm sure he will give her the proper punishment!"

"Finally, she will be treated like the rest of us." The other said. They both laughed as they walked off together.

Everyone felt an envy toward her when it came to work. They felt as if Mr. Phillips would go even easier on her. Yes, everyone on that floor worked in the house. But Charity's deeds proved to be lighter than everyone else since her arrival.

The two slave girls approached Edmund Taylor. He was busy looking after the slaves harvesting crop in the field. One of his eyes were partially covered with his large hat, a rolled cigarette between his lips. The slaves worked endlessly under his watch. Never were they allowed to get a break from their work.

The two house slaves told Mr. Taylor the news about Charity. Edmund himself was shocked to hear it. He never trusted a slave, but he felt as though Charity would stay in line. He was a sadist at heart. It made his blood boil with excitement knowing he had a reason to punish poor Charity.

Meanwhile, Charity had long had the rag in her possession at that point in the day. She sat in front of a washboard in the basement's washroom and scrubbed off the seed. It had hardened over night, making it nearly impossible to take off. Lucky, with soap and hard rubbing, she was able to get it off.

She smiled as she stood up, then walked toward the door so that she may go outside and hang it on the clothing line. But to her surprise there stood Mr. Taylor in the doorway. His eyes were dark and merciless.

"Where did a colored girl like you get a handkerchief like that?" Mr. Taylor stepped toward her. His thumbs were looped on his belt. His lips were pressed together in a straight line across his middle-aged face.

"This?" Charity asked nervously as she looked down at the fabric. Her cheeks became warm as she knew she'd get in trouble. She decided to tell the truth, but she knew she could not tell the whole truth. "It is not mine. It belongs to Mr. Phillips."

"Damn right, it belongs to Mr. Phillips!" Edmund snatched the rag from her hand. As he inspected it, tears began falling from Charity's eyes as she looked toward the floor. She felt helpless. He pointed to an embroidered TPA in the corner of the rag.

"It even has his monogram. Do you know how much it costs to make something like this?" Mr. Taylor asked. Charity shook her head 'no' as she stared to the ground. "I'm sure you do. You liar. You know damn well. That's why you took it."

"No—" Charity spoke up. "It was soiled. And so I cleaned it."

"No. It was resting safely in Mr. Phillips' desk and you took it." Mr. Taylor insisted. "I know because I have two witness that saw you. Two!"

"Please believe me!" Charity begged. "I would never steal from anyone."

"Like hell, you wouldn't." Mr. Taylor stuffed the rag into his back pocket. "You pretended to clean it, didn't you? And then you weren't gonna put it back!"

"No!" Charity cried out. Edmund smiled as he grabbed Charity by her wrist. He dragged her throughout the halls of the basement. As they passed through other slaves stared at the commotion. She cried as she was dragged up the steps so hard, she stumbled down. He held onto her hand as he practically slid her body up the wooden steps.

Those present on the main level floor were startled to hear a gasp coming from the basement entrance. Mr. Taylor dragged her through the hallway toward the foyer. But on the way, he stopped and held her to the wall by her throat. "You think you can steal in this house? Huh?"

Charity gasped for air.