Clara twirled upon her parasol so its brightness could entice even a blind creature to her, Robert Goodwin kept his eyes firmly upon July.
‘Surely be, massa,’ July said.
‘Then may I drive with you back to Amity? I’ve finished my business here and I am returning,’ he asked her.
Now July was, as matter-of-fact, walking in upon the town and had not yet searched for those yellow kid gloves that her missus so required. But only she knew this. And what did her missus need with another pair of gloves? Bolton thumbs, cha—how was she to find Bolton thumbs? There were no yellow kid gloves with Bolton thumbs within this town—July became sure of it. For travelling off alone within a pony cart with a white man, while Miss Clara stood looking on, had now become July’s only purpose that day.
‘Yes. Thanking you,’ July said to Mr Goodwin. Then, handing Miss Clara back her calling card, July said, ‘Good day to you, Miss Clara.’
Miss Clara told her that she may keep it to give it to this white man. And July replied that he had no need of it and that she should take it back. All this was spoken without a word sounding between them. That mute message was conveyed with the slight motions and tiny tics of a silent language learned from dread of white people’s intrusion—and even the fair Miss Clara still knew how to speak it.
As Robert Goodwin jumped down from the cart to help July board it—like she was some dainty white miss—Miss Clara stepped forward to hand the card to Mr Goodwin herself. But he, with a curt rudeness that no white woman would ever witness from a gentleman, waved it away without even a glance to her.
Then, as the cart proceeded along the street, July, sitting atop it thought, what a shame Miss Clara did not consider that gutted fish upon a slab; for July was able to read every one of Miss Clara’s feelings within the gaping expression upon her face.
CHAPTER 23
THE CART WAS STILL within that parched street, not yet out of Miss Clara’s gaze. Come, it had not even reached to pass by Ebo Cornwall, yet July—while telling this young overseer for the third time that, ‘Yes, yes, she be quite comfortable,’—began to wonder what style of dress she would desire to wear if she, like Miss Clara, could catch a white man for a ‘husband’.
So when Robert Goodwin, with a slight frown of hesitation, flicked his head toward where Miss Clara stood and asked, ‘Miss July, is that woman a friend of yours?’ our July, quite tingling with the notion that this tender young man might be caught, was keen to impress him.
‘Oh, yes. Miss Clara be me good-good friend, good-good friend, since long time. We always do chat upon the road when we does meet, for we be so friendly. Oh yes, Miss Clara be me good friend,’ July answered. For she was sure that this white man would be beguiled to see that such a lowly, dark-skinned mulatto house servant as she, did enjoy the close society of a quadroon as fine, beautiful and fair-skinned as Miss Clara.
But when she turned to him to bask within his approval, she found his cheeks slightly reddening, his chest rising with a heavy breath and his lips pinching into a tight line. Now, English people can be hard to read, for they do believe that a firm face with no sentiment upon it is a virtue. But July was an expert in all their guiles and knew without hesitation that she had delivered this man the wrong answer. But for what reason, our July had yet to grasp.
When he at once said, ‘Really? You are friends,’ July was quick to respond, ‘Me not be that friendly since she has been within the town, for me does hardly see her. No, we not be such friends . . .’ but was sorely troubled when he interrupted to ask, ‘Do you attend her dances at the assembly rooms?’
Would a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ secure this man’s favour? July was now confused. A ‘yes’ might hear him gladly say, ‘Then it would be my honour to accompany you next time, Miss July.’ For maybe he enjoyed to trip and spin within this company; white men from all across the parish did delight in attending those dances and he was a white man. And the truth within a ‘no’ would prove her an outcast—too dark and