Life in London turned out to be exactly as Laurence had described it. He took me to the theatre, parks, restaurants, cafes and horse races. It was a life of comfort and ease. The neighbourhoods we frequented were clean and orderly, yet through the carriage windows I could see the other side of London, its decay. Muddy streets full of excrement, as they had no sewage system, wooden houses, rats, barefoot children dressed in rags who followed the carriages and begged, their hands constantly stretched forward, their eyes pleading.

"Don't look," Laurence suggested, but I ignored him and frowned at everything I could make out the window.

"If I hadn't left with my father, I'd probably be one of them now."

Laurence said nothing at my words. He knew I was right.

Sir Henry Evans was a man in his forties, a man born into a rich and powerful family that had been meddling in political affairs for generations. A corrupt man, a man interested only in his own well-being. I instantly pegged him at our first meeting; he was so much like Laurence.

He invited us to his house. He and Laurence would lock themselves in an office to talk business, while I stayed with his wife, Gwen Evans, a girl not much younger than me. She was shy and didn't talk much, but she was a good pianist and knew how to entertain me during those hours spent waiting. I watched her fingers slide elegantly across the keyboard.

"Can you play?" she asked, courteously.

"Oh, no. I don't know anything about music, I'm sorry. But this piece you're playing is very nice. Whose is it?"

She smiled. "Mine."

"Really? You're a composer, then!"

"Not at all. It's just a pastime."

I became friends with her. She was the only person I was ever close to in London. We frequented drawing rooms and cafes, theatres and cabarets together, which I couldn't do with Jahzara.

Jahzara hated London. She claimed there was something unhealthy about the people there, more than could be perceived in people in South Carolina. There was contempt for everyone and everything, there was indifference and falsehood, there was apathy and distress. She had stopped doing her work as a healer, because no white person, not even the poorest, was willing to come to her to have an ailment cured. She missed the New World, she missed her community, and I thought I had made a mistake in having her come with me to London. There was no one she could talk to but me.

We went out of our way not to be seen by the other servants and my husband. We loved each other silently and secretly, as we always had. Her body was an oasis in the midst of a barren desert, in the midst of that sense of oppression that gripped my insides every day. It was a moment of serenity, a moment of life. Her whispers caressed my ear and managed to convince me, at least a little, that I was important, that I was worth something to someone in that vast world.

As expected, Laurence had me examined by a slew of doctors, prescribing medications and strange methods to get pregnant. Jahzara wasn't convinced by the drugs I was taking every night. She advised me to stop taking them, but Laurence never failed to check on me. After each intercourse, he would force me to lie down with my legs elevated for at least ten minutes. I had to take a hot bath every night and eat only certain foods. I was tired of those visits, of those doctors who looked at me as if I were not quite a woman and tried to console me with empty words, convinced that my infertility was causing me unspeakable psychological suffering.

Still, it worked. Days passed and I hoped to see the usual red stain on my underwear, but my period didn't come and I immediately understood what that meant. My heart clenched and in a second I saw my future flash before my eyes. I collapsed to the ground and cried, cried like never before. All I wanted at that moment was to go back to the sea, to feel the fresh air on my face, to be free as I had once been. With a child I could no longer do that. Jahzara found me lying on the ground in a pitiful state. She held me close and wiped away my tears.

"Delise, what happened?"

"I think... I think I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant..."

She sighed and stroked the back of my neck. "It's okay."

"It's no okay, it's no okay..."

"If you don't want this baby there are ways... I can help you."

"Can you?"

"I want you to think this through first. You have to be completely sure, okay? Because if you're not sure, you risk suffering."

"You sound like you already done it."

"Indeed. I got pregnant a few years ago. But bringing children into the world when you know full well they'll be slaves... I knew I couldn't handle it. I don't want to condemn someone to my own life."

"Does it hurt?"

"If pregnancy made you collapse on the ground like this, abortion for you will only be an incredible relief."

Jahzara explained to me the different methods, the infusion of parsley, black root and cedar root as abortifacient agents, the iron stocking, the crutch, how to insert toxic mixtures into a woman's body...

"Please stop," I prayed. I was shaking like a leaf. "I had no idea it could be so dangerous."

"Don't worry, I've done it several times with many women."

"Has anyone ever died?"

Jahzara suddenly petrified, and judging by her expression, I didn't need her response to understand.

"They were a different case. They had been pregnant for months, I had to use the iron stocking to... I couldn't stop the bleeding..."

"All right," I interrupted her. "I won't ask any further. I don't want to know."

A week later, Jahzara asked me if I was still convinced to have an abortion.

"I never doubted it."

She, reassured, began to procure all the necessary things. She prepared an infusion in secret from the other servants, and, when she had finished, brought it to my room.

"Drink it all," she intimated.

"What will it do to me?"

"It will take a while for it to take effect. You're going to bleed. I'll tell your husband you've caught a mild flu in the morning so he'll leave you alone."

And so, I drank. The liquid tasted strange, a little tingly. I drained every last drop and waited, hoping something would happen, but nothing did, as Jahzara had said. All I had to do was wait.

"Come, let me brush your hair." Jahzara invited me to sit in front of the dressing table. I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed that I looked frightened. She must have noticed. She pulled the pins out of my hair and loosened them, then combed my hair gently, letting her fingers run through my locks; she knew that gesture calmed me.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine."

"Stay close to me, okay?"

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere."

The pain in my abdomen woke me up. It was the middle of the night, the house was silent, and there wasn't even a candle lit. I brought my hands to my stomach and closed my eyes, trying not to make a sound. The cramps were so bad that my breath was muffled. My back was wet with sweat and I could feel my hair sticking to my face. I dragged myself off the bed and tried to reach the bathroom without making a sound. When I lifted my nightgown I saw blood, lots of blood. My heart sank. I went to call Jahzara and she took care of me. Her eyes were filled with concern, as if she had not expected such an effect.

"What's going on?" I asked, bending in half. My stomach kept hurting so much I couldn't even stand up.

"You'll be fine, you'll see..."

She wiped my forehead and checked my pulse. She told me I had a fever. I saw her bewildered, as if she didn't know what to do. She tried to stop the bleeding, but her pale face indicated terror.

"I must wake master, Delise. We need to get a doctor, maybe he'll...he'll know what to do."

"No, no! Are you crazy?"

"I'm sorry, but I have to..."

"Jahzara! NO!"

When Laurence walked into the bathroom and saw me, his eyes twinkled dangerously in the half-light. I'd never seen him so angry.

"What the fuck did you do, huh?"

Jahzara stood between me and him. "Master, we must call a doctor immediately. Your wife is not well. We must..."

"Move over!" He pushed her violently to the side and slammed her down on the sink. Then he pounced on me.

"You're a murderer! A murderer! You killed our son!"

He hit me. Over and over again. I didn't have the strength to resist. I could feel the hot, sticky blood soaking my thighs, the pain pouring out everywhere. When he punched me in the stomach, I stopped breathing. It felt like minutes, whole hours, and when air filled my lungs again, another punch blocked the breath in my throat. I thought he was going to kill me, so my thoughts lingered on my brother. His memory echoed in my mind every day, and years later, I still felt boundless love for him. I thought that if there was an afterlife, I would see him again soon.

"How did you dare!? How did you dare!"

I could taste the blood in my mouth. My ears were ringing. My head was swollen and heavy, my mind was upside down and I felt like I was falling, like I was losing consciousness.

"And yet I loved you! I loved you!"

I heard Jahzara screaming, desperately. Inside I thought she was a fool, that she should run, that she should save herself. I wanted her to be safe. God, please. No matter what happens to me, let her be safe.

"Stop it, you're killing her!"

Laurence didn't stop. He yanked my hair out, dug his nails into my cheeks, slapped me across the face so hard it made my face turn sideways. Then, he slammed the back of my head against the tiles and my eyes filled with tears of pain. All I saw was black. I probably lost consciousness. When I regained reality again, I saw Jahzara drive one of my hair pins into my husband's throat. Blood flowed everywhere and splashed onto my face. Laurence turned to Jahzara and looked at her in amazement, pressing his hands to the open wound. He tried to defend himself, to strike her as well, but Jahzara, with the blood-covered pin clutched in her hands, stabbed him again, this time in the face. Laurence screamed, moaned. Strange noises came out of his mouth. He slumped to the ground, helpless, his blood mixing with mine. Jahzara's eyes were wide, a different light than usual. She still held the pin in her hands, so hard her wrist was shaking.

Laurence stayed alive for a few more minutes, after which he stopped fidgeting and his moaning ceased completely.

"Run," I muttered, weakly. "Run, Jahzara."

But she didn't move.

The commotion had woken the housekeeper, who came in a few moments later. She screamed like a madwoman when she saw all that blood and Laurence's body on the floor.