From Caleb Stone’s narrative, as remembered by Dr. Cassandra Reilly
*****
Cassandra Reilly, New York: Thursday, May 26, 1853—I’m happy to report that Evie seems to be feeling better now and is full of pep. Miss J. and Miss K. have decided to devote all their time to us and to making sure our last two weeks here are enjoyably spent. It is, however, quite tricky maneuvering the racial issue. We all want to go out together, to go where we please and do what we want, and Evie and I have a hard time adjusting to the fact that that simply isn’t possible. The others are used to it. For instance, Miss J. and Miss K. are accustomed to assuming the roles of mistress and maid when they go together anywhere, except All Angels. Samuel and Caleb also must pose as servants and not walk with a companionable attitude when with their white friends. Last night was a perfect example. Jeremiah Jr., or Jerry, as they call him, invited us to the symphony, where he was to be performing a solo with his new employers, the New York Philharmonic. Evie and I were thrilled and excited until we realized that none of the black people in the household could go—not even posing as servants. We were to return to Castle Garden for this concert, but apparently, they did not sell seats to Negroes for the Philharmonic performances. This is so appalling to us, there are no words for it, and we felt we had to decline the invitation. But this is the type of conundrum Miss J. lives with all the time: Go and see her darling brother perform as a rising star in the New York music world and leave her dear friends behind, or stay with them and disappoint her brother. Jerry is no more pleased with the situation than anyone else, but he has no say in the matter. Finally, Miss K. insisted that we go, saying she would look forward to hearing Jerry play a private concert at home. We went in the carriage with Reverend Williams, Sarah and Miss J., all depressed.
Jerry’s eldest brother, James, and his wife Isabelle, met us there. James is a serious fellow, with dark hair and eyes like his mother. He rarely smiled. His wife, however, is sweet, pretty, and blond. She is expecting a baby, and they had left their little daughter at home with the nanny.
When we walked into the concert hall, Jerry’s wife, Aimee, was there to greet us at our seats. She is most charming, petite with dark hair, a small, pointed nose, a precise little mouth and sharp, bright black eyes. She told us she was of French heritage like Evie, and this truly surprised Evie, because this woman is her direct ancestor, yet Evie never knew she actually did have French blood—it was just something we made up for the journey. Evie liked her so much. She has a mild, kind, way about her. They sat together and talked until the music started and all through intermission, up until we parted after the concert.
Jerry played with great energy, the soloist of quite a lengthy Mendelssohn violin concerto. He has a way of attacking the music that is most entertaining and keeps you wide awake. After intermission, he assumed his role as first chair for Schumann’s Third Symphony. Afterwards, when we went to congratulate him, we could see he was spent and inclined to go right home. We said our goodnights and sent for the carriage. It was around eleven by the time we got home. Caleb was waiting there for us, but everyone else had gone to bed. Miss J. and I left Evie sitting in the parlor with him, their heads together, talking quietly—dare I say—quite like lovers.
*****
Travel Journal, Evelyn Bay: Saturday, May 28, 1853—I am becoming so very attached to this life. I love the way I feel in my clothes, I move differently; I am a lady. I love the furniture in the house; everything is built with beauty in mind, as well as function. I love the garden, my retreat, from there I can hear the clop of horses’ hooves on the street, the joyous cries of children playing, birds singing who have not yet figured out that this is a city. I love the way I can see the stars out my bedroom window; I love the smell of wood burning in fireplaces, the long, leisurely meals, even the small things like the china we use, the silverware—a different fork for every course, and small delicate teacups. I love the ritual of the tea service, how one must steep the tea then pour it into the teapot, how we serve the others, offer around the milk, sugar or lemon and the dainty pastries and sandwiches. I love that conversation is correct and polite, that even when we are speaking heatedly of passionate topics, we use the proper grammar and do not use slang or obscenities. I love the refinement of this life and do not miss anything about my old life.
I bought some paint supplies and have set myself up in the garden to try to capture its loveliness. I usually do not paint realistic scenes, but have decided to change my style for the time being. I have received many compliments—but then, they know I am a “budding artist” and that I’ve already studied extensively with the masters. Still they seem surprised at my capability—perhaps because I am a woman.
Caleb sits with me and watches me work. I feel ashamed that he regards my talent as so far superior to his own because I have training and experience (if he only knew just how much). He cannot see or accept that he is a genius in his own right.
*****
Travel Journal, Evelyn Bay: Thursday, June 2, 1853—The weather has been so warm these last few days that by mid-afternoon, everyone retires for a nap, including Cassie. Today I waited until I was sure everyone was asleep, then I wrote a note saying that although I was not escorted, the library was close enough for me to go safely.
I instead went to All Angels. Caleb met me by the back gate. We slipped up the stairs and into his garret. No one was around. He closed the door and pushed me up against it and we kissed. Our mouths melted together. I wrapped a leg around his body and he reached up and found his way underneath my voluminous skirts. He lifted them high with one hand, and pulled aside my bloomers with the other to encounter only my naked skin. I was out of my mind with desire as he found his way to my most hidden places. Then he tried to unbutton my bodice, but the closures were too small for his fingers, so I unfastened it, unlaced my corset, and pulled my chemise down to expose my breasts to him. He took them, each in turn, into his mouth hungrily.
He helped me pull his shirt off over his head, then pressed his naked chest against mine. His body is magnificent. Every muscle is taut and defined. My hands roamed over his arms, shoulders, chest, and stomach while I kissed his neck. Finally, he threw me onto his small bed. I tore off my skirt and petticoats, and pulled my chemise over my head while he removed his trousers, socks and boots. Because of the hot weather, I had come out of the house without stockings, so I only had to kick off my slippers. I lay there on the bed naked and he stopped and gazed down at me, just looking. I beckoned to him and he lay down on top of me. He kissed every inch of my body and I his. I took him into my mouth, which I think surprised him greatly, but I could not resist. He did not let me linger there long though, but soon entered me. I nearly screamed with pleasure, but we could not make noise, fearing we might be heard by the reverend roaming around somewhere in the building. I had not been with a man in a great while. I have not been in love for several years, and so my desire for Caleb was overwhelming. He made love to me slowly and purposefully, watching my face to see what pleased me most, changing his motion to find the perfect rhythm, and I experienced ecstasy over and over again. Finally, he erupted inside me and I had to cover his mouth with my hand to keep him from shouting. I have never known such bliss. We laughed for joy when we were finished. We stayed in his bed then, exploring every various means of bringing each other pleasure until he was ready to enter me again. This time it was faster but the climax was still as intense. We knew that we could not linger long, so we finally dressed, kissing and touching all the while. I fixed my hair and we cautiously made our way down and out onto the street. He walked me home, although we kept our distance as we walked, like two strangers sharing the sidewalk. We didn’t mind; it was as if we could read each other’s thoughts and feel each other’s touch without even a glance.
Chapter Twelve
In Chesapeake, another family hid us and fed us, and the next evening we prepared to go across the bay. The night was cloudy and threatened rain, but Mr. Jacobs, th
e man who took us across, said we must go on. We headed off, the three of us, including Nate, Sharla, and our guide, but as we went, it started to rain and the water chopped up. The boat was big and seemed sturdy, but out there in the middle of that bay with no land in sight, we felt smaller than a pin prick on a quilt. The boat rocked and tipped, and we clung to it for life. Mr. Jacobs, a rather fierce-looking and rugged fellow, became terrified and began flailing the oars in all directions until Sam took them over and with great strokes moved the boat through the waves in the direction of some dim lights that told us the shore was in reach. But the lightning cracked and thunder boomed, and the rain came down savagely. I was afraid it would fill the boat with water. Mr. Jacobs, determined not to have us drown there in the middle of the bay, handed us some buckets, and together we scooped it out while Sam rowed even harder. Finally, all of us exhausted and weary to the bone, we reached the shore and a very grateful Mr. Jacobs led us to a nearby house were we collapsed, soaked and freezing.
From Caleb Stone’s narrative, as remembered by Dr. Cassandra Reilly
*****
“We have some exciting news!” bubbled Miss Ketchum as she and Miss Johnston fairly skipped into the parlor, giggling with delight.
Evie, Cassandra, and Samuel looked up from the books they’d been reading by the fading light of the sun.
“I want to tell them!” said Miss Johnston, waving an envelope.
“No let me!”
“Very well, go on,” she agreed in a playfully vexed tone.
“Let us tell them together.”
The three readers exchanged looks.
Together, the women exclaimed, “There is going to be a cotillion!”
Evie and Cassandra jumped up, while a broad grin swept across Samuel’s face.
“A ball?” said Evie.
“Yes!” cried Miss Ketchum. “The Dorcas Benevolent Society is throwing it for the Negro community. It has been an annual event for the last five years, but we did not know when this year’s dance would occur. They do not give much notice, so that those who are antithetic to the cause do not find out. Sometimes they like to disrupt gatherings of this kind.”
“Anyway, it is Saturday night!” interrupted Miss Johnston.
“Saturday night!” said Cassandra. “That is the day after tomorrow! Will we have time to get ready?”
“Oh, the two of you have such lovely clothes; I am sure something you already have will do.”
“What is the usual attire?” asked Evie.
“Well, it is traditional for the maidens to wear white, so, I guess that means—” A shadow of uncertainty clouded Miss Johnston’s face. “Lillian, Miss Bay, and me.”
“What should I wear?” Cassandra asked.
“Oh, the married ladies, and um, the widowed, usually wear a light color, something springy. That yellow gown with the pink roses you have will do nicely. Cass and I can wear what we wore last year, do you not think?” Miss Ketchum said to her friend.
“Oh, certainly, that will be fine,” she said with a chuckle and a nudge to Miss Ketchum. “No one will be looking at us anyway.”
“I am thinking,” Cassandra began, “that we could all do with a shopping trip. I have worn that yellow gown now three or four times, to the opera and the symphony—”
“And dinner at Delmonico’s,” continued Evie, “and I have worn my white dress that many times as well. I would love to find something new as long as we could get it ready-made and have the alterations done in time. I remember seeing some very elegant clothing at A.T. Stewarts, do you remember, Mrs. Reilly?”
Cassandra knew that Evie was picking up on her train of thought. “Yes, but I will not be happy to have a new gown if our hostesses do not.”
She walked across the room to lay her book on the table. She noticed that Samuel was listening to the conversation with an amused glimmer in his eye.
“I have been trying to think of the proper way to thank you all for the incredible hospitality you have shown us these past few weeks,” Cassandra continued, turning and walking back again, “and since all of us going out for a nice dinner together can be problematic—” she paused, “this is the perfect thing! We will buy all of us something new and fine to wear: both of you,” she said indicating Miss Johnston and Miss Ketchum, “Samuel—”
He jumped up, “Now wait a minute!”
“Caleb, even Anna Mae and Caroline, if they are inclined to go!”
“Yes!” cried Evie clapping her hands. “Yes, this is perfect! We will go shopping tomorrow!”
“You ladies are very generous,” said Samuel, “but I am not even sure if I am going to go to the cotillion. If I do, I do not need no fancy clothes.”
“And Lillian and I could not dream of accepting such extravagant gifts,” said Miss Johnston. “We are happy with what we have.”
Cassandra gazed at them with deep affection. She went to them and took a hand of each in hers.
“We know that material things are not important to you. We know that what is important to you is the work you do, and the love you have for your family and friends, but we are leaving in just five days.” Cassandra’s voice broke. “And we must show you how much your kindness and friendship have meant to us. Please, this is a little thing, very little compared to the great things you do with your lives. Let us do this,” she said, and then she turned to Samuel. “Please.”
Evie had turned away toward the fireplace. She now came to add her hands to the grasp that Cassandra held on their friends.
She smiled her beautiful smile, her eyes moist.
“We want to very much.”
Miss Johnston and Miss Ketchum had tears in their eyes, and Samuel put his hands in his pockets and grinned with embarrassment. The three of them looked at each other.
“You two deserve to have something nice,” said Samuel, “Why not?”
“And you too?” Evie said to him, blinking her long lashes twice.
“Very well.”
“Good,” said Cassandra. She beamed at Evie. “What time shall we go to Stewart’s tomorrow? Best to do it first thing, do you not think?”
“I am going over to the church tonight,” said Samuel. “I will let Caleb know. Maybe we can borrow the reverend’s carriage and all go down together.”
“And Anna Mae and Caroline?” asked Cassandra.
“Let us find out first if they care to go to the cotillion,” Miss Johnston said. “They will certainly be welcome if they do.”
But it turned out that Caroline had a great fear of being at such a fancy occasion and being expected to dance. She said that even with a new dress, she wouldn’t know how to act, so she was perfectly happy to stay home and have the evening to herself. Anna Mae had already planned to spend Saturday night with her sister’s family, who lived downtown, and said she didn’t have patience for such things as cotillions.
When Cassandra asked Miss Johnston whether they would all be allowed in to A.T. Stewart’s together, she didn’t hesitate with her reply: “White folks go in with their black servants all the time, and why should it matter to the busybodies in the store if we want to buy our servants fancy clothes?”
“Is there not any other way than to pretend that our friends are our servants?” Evie asked, a frown creasing her brow.
“Not unless this old world of ours turns itself upside down overnight,” Miss Johnston replied with a shrug.
They arrived at the store at ten on Friday. The doorman was haughty, and the sales clerks rude, but Cassandra quietly slipped the girl in the ladies’ department a five-dollar bill, and she grudgingly complied with their many requests, promising to have the alterations ready by that afternoon. When the integrated group marched up to the men’s department and began choosing clothes for Caleb and Samuel, another bribe ensured success there. Caleb was reluctant to accept the gift of the new clothes, not wanting to be seen as taking charity, but a pout from Evie was enough to make him change his mind.
Around sunset, the tailored clothes
were delivered to the Johnston household and there was great excitement as the packages were opened.
By nine o’clock Saturday evening, the six party-goers were assembled in the parlor. Miss Johnston stood in front of an oval mirror near the doorway, while Miss Ketchum fussed with the woman’s hair, trying to smooth down a stray lock that had escaped its pins. The white satin Miss Ketchum wore reflected candlelight as she worked. Her skirt was of two layers, the top layer bordered with ruby-red embroidery. The bodice was snug at the waist, and the neckline was draped off the shoulders; a gossamer veil hung just over the tops of the arms, then gathered up in front of the bust, and was edged with the same ruby embroidery as the full skirt. Anna Mae had done her hair, which was combed up high and held in place with a mother-of-pearl comb. Cassandra thought she looked like a queen. Her dark skin glistened against the shimmery white of the dress, and her black eyes sparkled as she beheld her own face and that of her dear one framed together in the mirror. Cassandra realized for the first time how extraordinarily beautiful Miss Ketchum was.
Miss Johnston had chosen a more modest ensemble, also white satin, the sleeves long to the wrists, and the collar scooped just a few inches below the neck, trimmed with white rosettes, which ran down the front of the bodice and along the front of the wide skirt. She wore no other ornamentation, but Evie had convinced her to apply the tiniest amount of rouge to her cheeks and lips. Nothing could make her truly handsome, but Cassandra could see the adoration in Miss Ketchum’s eyes as she finally pinned the errant hair in place, and patted it gently one last time.
Evie was dazzling in a dress of white silk, draped off the shoulder with tiny, gathered sleeves exposing her sculpted arms. The bodice was cut down to a V and the skirt sprang out of it, showing off her narrow waist. The outfit was given a modern edge by the grass-green stripes of ribbon that encircled the bottom half of the skirt in varying degrees of width, and which bordered the neckline as well. She wore her long, white gloves, and Cassandra had lent her the emerald earrings, which matched the accents of the dress perfectly.
The Time Heiress Page 16
