It was so loud. How was it possible such a small piece of wood could create such an aggressive sound. Elizabeth massaged her temples, trying to rub out the tension building in her head. Glancing out the window, she saw Christopher marching to his tune, imitating the soldiers he had seen drilling in the public yard. Catherine's officer had given the fife to Christopher and had taught him a few notes. None of it sounded like music. Elizabeth's heart both swelled and contracted watching her boy at play. Her whole heart was out there making the most terrifying noise. She laughed just a bit and squeezed her eyes shut.
Elizabeth returned her attention to the papers on the desk in front of her. The revenue she was about to add to the ledger was causing much unexpected angst. Perhaps it was the way Bede had reacted. So full of fury and rage. And absolutely inappropriate in its delivery. She remembered from working with Catherine on the accounts at Lanham Plantation that Roger never wrote names in the ledger when he sold them. They were just assets. Boy. Girl. Wet nurse. Field worker. House maid. Sometimes he included their ages to prove their value. But he never used their names. Now, as Elizabeth tried to update the account books, she was having trouble writing their names. Mattie. Clive. Amos. They were just assets. But Bede's screams rang in her ears, "They were my family!" It was a silent scream as loud as Christopher's fife.
A light wrap on the door frame jolted Elizabeth from her troubled thoughts. Benjamin James, schoolmaster, stood quietly at the door. He was perhaps the best hire Elizabeth had made. A kind and disciplined instructor, the children under his tutelage were thriving and families throughout Annapolis were seeking places in his school. He looked for a moment past Elizabeth and into the yard where Christopher continued his drills. An amused smile upturned the corners of his mouth.
"Quite an instrument, the fife," he observed.
"Quite a loud instrument," Elizabeth laughed. "Christopher tells me it's loud so the soldiers can hear it during long marches and battles."
"Smart boy, but hard working mothers don't need quite so much exuberance. I could teach him the flute."
Elizabeth looked at the teacher quizzically.
"It's a larger version of the fife and is becoming quite popular among the young men. I have acquired a decent instrument and have an essay from Johann Quantz that is a brilliant primer."
Elizabeth remembered seeing a flute at Paca's recent garden party. That awful party. The music had been pretty, gliding from soft deep notes to tinkling energy. It had none of the aggression of the fife.
"I could also teach you," Mr. James winked.
Elizabeth guffawed. He had obviously not thought about why Catherine was always at the harpsichord. Elizabeth had tried to learn a bit of music during her time at Lanham Plantation, but to no avail. She simply could not make sense of the squiggles and the keys. Catherine had jovially given up on her fairly early in her studies. Besides, Elizabeth had only ever seen men playing the flute. Women's instruments were their harpsichords and their voices. Neither of which blessed Elizabeth with their beauty.
She reached into her money box for the payment she knew Mr. James had come for even if he had not yet requested it. Handing him his due she smiled, "I would very much appreciate Christopher learning the flute." A screech from the fife brought emphasis to her words. "But I think I'll let others make music at Godwin House."
Mr. James smiled, bowed slightly, and left.
Thankfully, Bede had coaxed Christopher away from the fife with a treat of biscuits and jam. In the blessed silence, Elizabeth returned to her ledger, memories blurring the lines. Slaves singing their pain became Clive playing his violin so all could gaily dance. The ledger lines came back into focus and Elizabeth wrote: Clive.
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