• • •
Although Julia insisted upon a modest, simple wedding at home, she still needed the help of the women who loved her best—Mamma, her sisters, her cousins, aunts, and friends, and of course dear, indispensable Jule—to finish the final preparations. Bridesmaids and groom’s attendants were swiftly alerted, invitations delivered, musicians engaged, flowers purchased, menus reviewed, marketing done. Jule’s deft fingers fairly flew as she sewed the last garments and linens for her mistress’s trousseau. Julia had decided, given the season and the need to economize, to wear an India mull muslin much like the one her mother had worn on her own wedding day thirty years before.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t like something fancier?” asked Mamma. “Your bridesmaids will have lovely new gowns. Shouldn’t you have one too?”
“My gown will be new,” Julia said cheerfully. “It isn’t silk, but what of that? Ulys won’t know the difference.”
Before her mother and sisters could protest that she ought to be married in something finer, a servant came to announce a caller. They hurried downstairs to the drawing room to greet Papa’s cousin, the lovely Mrs. O’Fallon. Her footman accompanied her, carrying a large white box.
“Am I too late?” she asked, gesturing for the footman to set the box upon the table. “Have you chosen your wedding dress yet?”
“Not yet,” said Julia, exchanging a glance with Nell. “Not quite.”
“I’m so glad.” Mrs. O’Fallon’s lovely features were rendered even more so by her joyful, affectionate smile. “I’ve brought you one, my dear, and I hope you’ll accept it with as much pleasure as I have in bringing it to you.”
Julia lifted the lid and withdrew from the box the most beautiful dress she had ever beheld, a magnificent, rich, soft, white watered silk with cascades of lace. “It’s lovely,” she exclaimed, holding it up so all could see, and then pressing it close to herself, imagining the fit. “I never thought to be married in such a beautiful gown. How on earth shall I ever thank you?”
“By wearing it, of course,” Mrs. O’Fallon said, and they all laughed together before Mamma urged Julia upstairs to try it on. She happily obeyed, knowing that it was certain to fit, for Mrs. O’Fallon knew her measurements and employed an exceptionally skilled dressmaker.
“Jule,” she called on her way to her bedchamber, wondering where her maid had gone. “Jule, come quickly.”
Julia had draped the gown across her bed and was standing back to admire it when Jule appeared, breathless, smoothing her apron. “Yes, Miss Julia?”
“Dear Mrs. O’Fallon brought me the loveliest dress for my wedding,” she exclaimed, reaching behind her back to unfasten her buttons. Jule promptly closed the door and hurried over to assist, swiftly undoing the buttons from neckline to waist. She helped Julia out of her dress and into the beautiful gown, which fit as perfectly as a dream, the soft silk whispering upon her skin as she turned in front of the looking glass.
“I never seen such a fine dress,” Jule said, her voice strangely subdued. “You’ll be the prettiest bride in St. Louis.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do.” Frowning thoughtfully as she studied Julia’s reflection in the mirror, Jule touched her hair, holding it back one way and then another, eventually nodding in approval. “Something fancier than your usual chignon would be best, with jasmine here and here, and some nice long curls on the sides.”
“Whatever you think is best.” Julia had learned to trust her maid’s judgment in matters of her toilet, especially regarding her hair, her one beauty. “Oh, Jule, I don’t know how I’ll manage without you.”
“You got by without me fine when you were at school, and your wedding trip shorter than that,” Jule reminded her. “Your hostesses likely have maids to help you, and when they don’t, you’ll get by.”
“I mean after the wedding trip.” Julia steeled herself, knowing she had put off this conversation far too long. “Now that the war’s over, the Fourth Infantry has been reassigned to the northern frontier. I’ll be going with Ulys to the headquarters in Detroit, on the Great Lakes, and—well, there really isn’t any place for servants there, in the North.”
“I see.” Jule’s eyebrows drew together and a deep crease of worry appeared between them. “What about me? Where do I go?”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Julia quickly assured her, whirling about to face her, to take her hand. “You’ll stay with the family and look after Nell and Emma. We would never send you away.”
“How long you gonna be away?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A year or two, perhaps more.” When Jule looked no more reassured than before, Julia added, “If Ulys is assigned to Jefferson Barracks again, or to another place where I can keep a servant, I’ll send for you. I promise.”
“I ain’t going with you.” Jule’s voice was faint, her expression inscrutable. “All this time, I just figured I would be.”
Julia did not know what to say. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but it’s simply impossible.”
“Oh, yes, Miss Julia. I do understand that.” Jule took a deep breath and mustered a faint smile. “I think the ladies must be wondering what became of you. They’re gonna think I forgot how to dress you.”
“Never,” declared Julia, relieved that her maid’s good humor was apparently restored. She hurried off to the parlor, where the gown met with approval all around. Mrs. O’Fallon had also brought Julia a veil of white tulle with lovely fringe, which seemed to float about her head when Mrs. O’Fallon put it on her, enveloping her in its delicate folds. For the first time in her long engagement, Julia truly felt like a bride.
She was happier than she had ever been, she thought later as Jule undressed her and put the gown carefully away. No power on earth could diminish her joy now that she and Ulys were to be united in love at last.
• • •
Ulys soon returned from Ohio, but even as Julia ran outside to greet him and took his arm to lead him into the foyer, she knew something was wrong. “Why are your parents not with you?” she asked. “Are they resting at the Planters House?”
“They’re at home,” said Ulys. “They aren’t coming to the wedding.”
“Oh, how unfortunate,” said Julia. “I was looking forward to meeting them. I hope they aren’t unwell.”
“No, they’re all in perfect health.” He held her out at arm’s length to admire her, but his smile seemed forced. “You’ll meet them on our wedding trip instead, and when they get to know you, they’ll love you as much as I do.”
Something in his tone made her wary. “You say that as if they’re predisposed not to love me, knowing me only through your stories.”
“I’ve said only good things about you,” said Ulys. “I have only good things to say.”
“What is it, then?” When Ulys shook his head, she added, “Please tell me. Does your family object to our marriage?” She had been so preoccupied with Papa’s objections to the match that it had never occurred to her to wonder how Mr. and Mrs. Grant felt.
“You know I come from abolitionist people.”
“You’re something of an abolitionist yourself, but I don’t hold that against you.”
“They’re deeply unhappy that I’m marrying into a slaveholding family,” Ulys admitted. “They say they can’t come to the wedding. Their consciences won’t permit them to enjoy any fruits of slave labor, and they won’t allow their presence here to give tacit approval to an institution they abhor.”
“Oh.” Suddenly light-headed, Julia sank into a chair. “I see.”
“It isn’t you they reject, Julia, but slavery. They can’t abide it.”
“Of course. I understand.” She felt tears gathering but forced them back. “I certainly wouldn’t want them to disregard their consciences.”
Ulys knelt beside her chair and took her hands in
his. “In time they’ll grow fond of you. I know they will. They won’t be able to help it.”
“You know them best,” she said. “If you think I can win their affection, then I’ll certainly try.”
• • •
Candles lit the way as Julia descended the staircase on the sultry August night she married Ulysses.
She knew he waited for her in the parlor, her cousin James Longstreet standing beside him as his best man, the rest of the bridal party gathered nearby. The thunderstorms of late afternoon had rumbled and flashed furiously before moving on to the east, leaving heavy rains in their wake, the fat drops pattering on the roof like the beating of drums. The foyer smelled of the wet shawls and wraps hanging to dry in the closet beneath the stairs, and soon Julia glimpsed the friends and loved ones who had worn them—young ladies in elegant gowns, handsome officers in dress uniform, dowagers smiling and blinking away tears, beloved family who had known her all her life, all crowded into the drawing room, full of anticipation, standing witness, making Julia’s happiness complete, or nearly so.
Earlier that morning Ulys had earned himself a scolding from Mamma, Nell, and Mrs. O’Fallon by calling on Julia, for it was bad luck for the groom to glimpse his bride before the ceremony. Laughing off their teasing warnings, Julia agreed to see Ulys, albeit briefly, only long enough to exchange a few heartfelt words of love and to accept his wedding gift, a chased gold locket worn by a narrow velvet strap from the wrist. Inside was a daguerreotype of the face she most loved to see, her own darling Ulysses, his thoughtful eyes and stubborn mouth. “I will wear this every day of my life,” she vowed, and then she hurried off without kissing him, for she had already tempted fate enough.
The clock on the mantelpiece struck eight o’clock as Papa offered Julia his arm and escorted her into the drawing room, his face stoic as he placed her hand in Ulys’s. Mr. and Mrs. Grant’s refusal to attend the wedding had bolstered his own objections to the match, but the previous night, after reminding Julia that even at that late hour she could still change her mind, he sighed in resignation and announced his wedding gift—sixty acres of uncleared land about a mile north of White Haven, with the promise of one thousand dollars to stock it. “Now when that soldier tires of dragging you from post to post,” Papa had told her gruffly, “you’ll have land of your own not far from home to settle on.”
Reverend Linn conducted the ceremony, which was mercifully brief, but Julia did not become tearful until she spoke her vows and heard Papa clear his throat, overcome with emotion. Then Ulys kissed her, and the minister pronounced them married, and all at once they were surrounded by well-wishers, caught up in embraces and basking in the joy of the smiling, happy throng.
The rain had subsided and the windows were thrown open to welcome in the cool night air, but all passed as a blur of merriment to Julia—the congratulations and good wishes from all and sundry; the parlor table laden with ices, fruits, and other delicacies; the festive supper; the merry music; the laughter that broke out when two of her bridesmaids could not resist the inspiration to dance and waltzed together around the crowded drawing room.
It was a simple, happy, poignant wedding, and after the guests departed and even family bade them good night, the newlyweds stole away, hand in hand, to Julia’s bedchamber, which Nell and Emma had lovingly decorated with fragrant blossoms and twining ivy, transforming the room into a romantic nuptial bower.
“You are as lovely to me as you were that day four years ago when I first glimpsed you on the porch at White Haven,” Ulys murmured after Jule had helped Julia into her nightgown and had noiselessly departed. “You’ll always bloom forever young and beautiful in my eyes.”
“And you are even more handsome and beloved to me tonight than you were then.” Julia glowed from his words, and from his touch, and from her certainty that Ulys truly did find her beautiful in all her plainness, that he saw her with the rare vision of true love, and that in his devotion to her, he always would.
• • •
In the morning, Jule rapped softly on the door of the bridal chamber and waited for Julia’s cheerful summons before entering. She was relieved to see that Captain Grant was already up and dressed, or nearly so; he sat in a chair by the window pulling on his socks and chatting with his bride, who sat in the middle of the bed in her nightgown, hugging her knees to her chest and beaming.
Their abundant happiness made Jule all the more regretful that she had too long deferred her own. Four years had passed since Julia had accepted her lieutenant’s proposal, four years Jule and Gabriel could have been together if Jule had not constantly feared she would be suddenly and without warning snatched from his side. And now to learn that she would not be leaving St. Louis and White Haven for years yet, if at all—
She was determined not to waste a single precious day more.
Captain Grant stepped from the room while Jule dressed Julia for her wedding trip, and when Julia was ready, Jule watched from the top of the stairs as she went down to breakfast on her husband’s arm, blushing and smiling. Jule quickly finished packing the last of Julia’s bags and carried them downstairs and outside, where Gabriel waited with the carriage.
Before they could wish each other a fond good morning, the front door burst open and Julia emerged on her husband’s arm, followed by a throng of family and friends seeing the newlyweds off in a cascade of tossed flowers. As Gabriel opened the carriage door and Ulys helped Julia inside, Jule waited nearby, ready to dash back inside for any essential thing Julia might suddenly decide she could not travel without.
“Jule, I do wish you could come with me,” Julia lamented through the carriage window after she had settled into her seat. “I’d feel so much braver with you there, so far from home.”
Jule managed a smile, though she was not feeling particularly brave herself. Except when Julia was at school—and even then she had returned to White Haven often—she and Julia had not been parted since they were tiny girls, holding hands as they scampered along the length of the piazza, ginger and cream. As soon as the carriage pulled away, everything would change. “I think Captain Grant can look after you just fine,” she said.
“Yes, but—” Julia glanced over to make sure Ulys was busy speaking with the driver and wouldn’t overhear. “Dare I trust him to fix my hair?”
Jule’s smile deepened. “That’s not for me to say, but I did put a bottle of that fragrant pomade you like so much in your satchel, brewed up fresh yesterday. It’ll keep your hair as smooth and glossy as mink, so it won’t matter how you arrange it.”
“Oh, thank you, Jule. I’m embarrassed to admit I nearly forgot—I have a gift for you too.” From her reticule Julia took a new lace handkerchief tied in a bow around something small, which she passed through the window. “A token of my gratitude for all you did to make my wedding day so wonderful.”
Jule weighed the lace bundle in her palm, starting in surprise as several coins clinked together enticingly. “I’m very grateful,” she said carefully, “but I wonder if I might ask another gift of you instead.”
Julia’s brows drew together in puzzlement. “I suppose so, but you know, those coins are gold. You could likely buy whatever it is you want.”
In a sudden, unexpected surge of anger, Jule was tempted to ask what price Julia would set for her freedom, hers and Gabriel’s—but of course, that would be up to the old master, and he was notoriously tightfisted. “What I’d truly like,” she said instead, “is that India mull muslin dress you meant to marry in before Mrs. O’Fallon gave you that fine lace gown.”
“You want my dress?” Julia echoed, surprised. “But it’s much too large for you.”
“I know how to take it in.”
“Well, of course you do, but what occasion would you possibly have to wear—” Julia gave herself a little shake. “Of course you may have the dress. Take the dress, and the money too. You’ve earned them both.”
>
Jule stared at her, momentarily speechless. She had never heard a Dent admit that any of their servants had earned anything, except punishments—but Julia was a Dent no longer. “Thank you, Mrs. Grant.”
Julia gave a little start. “Oh, my goodness. Mrs. Grant. That’s who I am now.”
Captain Grant gave the order for the carriage to start, and as Gabriel took the reins in hand, Jule caught his eye and mouthed the words, Hurry back.
She had something very important to ask him, but she already knew how he would answer.
Chapter Three
AUGUST–OCTOBER 1848
Julia snuggled close to Ulys as the carriage sped them to the riverfront, where they boarded a steamer that would carry them down the Mississippi to Cairo, Illinois, and then northeast up the Ohio River. She had never traveled farther from White Haven than St. Louis, and she marveled at the magnificent grace and speed of the boat as it powered through the water. Hour after hour, she enjoyed sitting alone with Ulys, watching the green countryside and thriving villages in passing. Sometimes Ulys would read to her, to “save her eyes,” as he said, and she in turn would sing to him, low and sweet and melodious. He told her that her voice was the only music he cared to hear, and she glowed from the praise, just as she glowed every night in his arms.
The steamer docked at Cincinnati on a bright, sunny morning, and as they left the cabin that had been their honeymoon bower for several pleasant days and nights, Ulys almost ran into a lad of about thirteen years who stood smiling cheerfully in the corridor, his flaxen curls and blue eyes rendering him almost too pretty to be a boy. “Hello, Lyss,” the boy greeted him cheerfully, then peered past him to grin at Julia. “Is this your missus?”
“Orvil,” Ulys exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yes, this is my lovely bride, your new sister-in-law. Julia, meet my youngest brother.” Smiling, Julia extended her hand to the boy, who shook it and greeted her respectfully, but with an air of merry curiosity.
Mrs. Grant and Madame Jule Page 5
