Brooklyn Rose

by Ann Rinaldi

  I thought how different they are from Mrs. Snelling, who goes about making trouble. Tomorrow Rene and I go on the trip up the Hudson, if it doesn't rain.

  October 12

  COLUMBUS DAY, a day to appreciate what the man did for us, having just taken a very safe boat ride up the Hudson River.

  We left early yesterday. The streets were still wet from a nighttime rain when we left, but the sun shone gloriously as Charley drove us to the docks of New York in our barouche. I felt as if I was taking off for an exciting adventure with Rene.

  When we reached the pier, I could smell the water before I saw it.

  The docks are so exciting, I told Rene, and he told me that even though he comes here to his warehouse and office every day, he can't get over that feeling of excitement when he first sees the docks, and the ships lined up to go to faraway places. We rode right past the pier where his warehouse is, and on the side, in large yellow letters, is written, "Dumarest Bros. Silk Importing." Oh, I near lost my breath when I saw it.

  Crowds were assembling either to board the ship or to watch it leave. Its name is the Maid Marian. It was flying all kinds of colorful flags, and there was music playing. Oh, I thrilled to the sight of it. And I thought how Daddy would like it, too.

  We went up the gangplank to board and were shown immediately to our parlor suite, where we might have privacy if we wished it, yet where we had large enough windows to look out and see the scenery. Our attendant was most considerate, asking if we wanted any beverage. Tea, perhaps? Or a tray of coffee and buns? We said yes. I wanted to experience everything.

  Our room was very well appointed, with rich woodworking and wallpaper and paintings of sailing ships on the walls. The curtains and bedspread matched, and the rug on the floor was rich, indeed. All the fittings in the bathroom were brass. I bounced on the bed, and then sat proper-like with Rene at a small table with silk-covered chairs to take our repast.

  It wasn't long before the whistle sounded and I felt the boat move. I rushed to the window and saw the big side paddles turning around and around and splashing water. What a sight! They could hypnotize a person. I could watch them forever.

  We went outside to the promenade deck to wave at the people on the dock. I saw Charley in the crowd and waved to him. Then we found deck chairs and Rene sent for a blanket for me, and we settled in to watch the scenery with everyone else.

  And what scenery! It wasn't long before the docks and skyline of New York were behind us, and Rene was pointing out the small towns of New Jersey across the river. It looked like a patchwork quilt of houses and trees and docks and church spires and small boats on the water.

  Soon after that, the towns disappeared and there was nothing but the greenery of woods and fields. And then we came upon the Palisades, which looked like great rocks reaching up into the blue sky.

  We stayed in our deck chairs watching the scenery until lunchtime, then went into the dining room for a lovely repast. The best was the fresh vegetable soup. Oh, I wish I had that recipe. It had all kinds of vegetables and a very special taste and was perfect for lunch after coming in from outside.

  After lunch we were able to see some very large houses along the cliffs of the Hudson. Rene said they were the homes of the rich Hudson River families, whose names went back to the Revolutionary War and before.

  All in all, it was a lovely trip. We went all the way to Albany, where the boat docked and we got off. So did a lot of others, being that it is the state's capital. Rene hailed a carriage, and we were taken to a lovely restaurant, with sparkling chandeliers and soft music, for supper. It looked out on the water. Once again the food was delicious.

  After supper we walked the town a bit and then went to our hotel, where we soon retired for the night, being rendered tired by the fresh air.

  This morning it was very cold, and we boarded our paddle steamer again for the trip home.

  On the way back, I got to thinking about everything I've been through since I came up from the South, and what a different person I am.

  I watched Rene when he wasn't looking at me. He is so handsome and gentle with me. How could I ever have questioned marrying him? What a child I'd been. Yet something is happening here that isn't supposed to happen. I am falling in love with him. And I'd promised myself I would never do that, because he holds the mortgage on my parents' plantation. Anyway, I don't really know what love is, do I?

  We arrived home late, and Charley was on the dock to greet us. I fell asleep in the barouche on the way home.

  19

  October 16

  I LOVE THIS time of year the best of all. Outside, every tree on our road is standing like a soldier in a new, bright uniform. Mornings are crisp, the sun is warm during the day, and nights are cold enough for a blanket. At home, I know, Daddy will be worrying about frost on his cotton.

  But when all should be happy in our house, we seem to be going through the onset of some bad times. I write of it not to honor it, but so someday my grandchildren will know what it took to make our marriage.

  Rene's mother arrived, finally. She came unannounced to the front door and stood there, a large woman dressed all in black, wearing a hat with a plume and announcing herself with arms outspread: "Charlotte is here."

  She speaks of herself in the third person. It is very annoying.

  With her was an attractive young girl whom she calls Lizette, who carries her bundles and sees to her every need. After hellos were said, Charlotte eyed me up and down and asked Rene, "Is she one of us?"

  The question could have meant anything. Rene did not reply. I notice there is a lot he does not reply to with his mother. Anyway, we welcomed her and she was shown to her room. An extra cot was brought in for Lizette, who never left her mistress's side.

  As a matter of fact, Lizette hovers over the table when we eat, which makes me very nervous. I can't imagine what it does to Mrs. Moore and Bridget and even Charley, who has always taken it upon himself to serve Rene personally.

  I am surprised that Charlotte does not taste Rene's food first to make sure he isn't being poisoned. So there we are at the table. Three people with four servants. It is awkward, to say the least. And Lizette goes into the kitchen, too, to fetch Charlotte's plate of food and see that she gets the best cut of everything. I can see that it tears at Rene's nerves.

  The first night was horrible. "You're too fat," she said to me.

  "She's having a child, Mother," Rene told her.

  "She's still too fat."

  I felt like crying, but I didn't.

  Did I mention that she brought a fluffy little dog with her? The dog follows her wherever she goes and has already chased my cat, Patches, all over the house. The nasty little thing sits on the furniture and eats scraps from Charlotte's hand at the table. Rene is trying to ignore all of this, I can see. But I can also see how annoyed he is with her.

  I don't know what kind of a visit this is going to be.

  October 23

  TODAY I FOUND myself in tears. I got up early to go to the kitchen and talk to the servants about the day's meals, but Charlotte was already there. She told me to go back to bed. I told her I always get up at this hour. That I like to see Rene off to work.

  "He doesn't need to be seen off to work," she said. "And if he does, Charlotte will see to him. Take advantage of it while she is here."

  I told her I wanted to plan the meals with the servants.

  "That is for Charlotte to do," she told me briskly. "She is practiced at this. Now, Mrs. Moore, I know Rene doesn't like broccoli, so we'll get him some nice fresh corn for supper."

  Mrs. Moore gave me a look of pure misery, and I left the kitchen. The nerve! These were my duties, after all. What right does she have to take over in my own house?

  I went upstairs and found Rene shaving. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked.

  "Your mother has taken over the house," I said.

  He told me she wouldn't be here long. I told him it was still my house. "Then tell her," he
urged. "Put her on notice right from the beginning that you are the Mistress of Dorchester." He calls me that when he teases me. The Mistress of Dorchester.

  I told him I couldn't do that. I was hoping he would. "This is a women's thing, darling," he said. "Try talking to her nicely, and if that doesn't work, I'll have a word with her. I promise. But you must stand up for yourself and not always see yourself through my permission."

  But I haven't spoken up. And she's been here a week now. And I feel displaced. Like I don't belong here at all. Like a child again, I feel. Adrift in my own home.

  October 24

  THERE IS SOME good news anyway. The Needlework Guild has come up with the money to send Mr. Cutler, the Confederate soldier, south. Oh, I couldn't wait to tell him. When I went to give him the news, he put his arms around me and kissed me and said I was like a daughter to him. I am so glad he is happy.

  October 25

  MY JOYOUS MOOD of yesterday has passed. Today is Thursday, and every Thursday I bake in the kitchen. Mrs. Moore goes home early. Bridget makes the supper while I bake. But this Thursday, Charlotte would not allow it.

  "In your condition?" she said. "Child, go and rest. Go for a walk. You'll be plenty busy when the baby comes."

  She just put herself in the kitchen in my place and said she would make some nice tarts for dessert. Did we want French tarts?

  Oh, I feel so helpless!

  It isn't even that I like cooking or baking. It's just the idea that she is putting me out of my own place. And Rene won't talk to her. I feel so betrayed.

  October 26

  JUST WHEN I thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. I noticed this evening at supper that Lizette is flirting with Rene. She insists on serving him, as well as Charlotte, and beats Charley to the punch all the time. They glare at each other across our heads at the table. Not only does she serve Rene, she purrs to him about how he should eat the right greens and how good this or that is for him. It takes away my appetite, and I feel nauseous. She is so obvious about it.

  Then, without so much as a by your leave, Charlotte breaks into French with Rene. I know my French, but hers is much more practiced. Rene answers her in English, to give him credit. He will not fall into that trap with her.

  I feel as if I don't belong here anymore. I feel as if I want to leave. If I can't be mistress of my own home, what role do I have? What is the use of everything?

  October 27

  CHARLOTTE INSISTS I have a tea and introduce her to the women of the neighborhood. "I am, after all, your mother-in-law," she says. "At home this would have been done already."

  Bridget is helping me plan a tea. We have sent out invitations this very day. One thing I have noticed is that Charlotte can be quite charming when she wants to be. I suppose I should have taken it upon myself to do this tea for her already.

  October 30

  WELL, WE HAD the tea this afternoon and most of the women came, all except Mrs. Snelling. I suppose our house wasn't big enough to fit both her and my mother-in-law into it, and I am just as glad she stayed away.

  Charlotte was a big hit. She talked about her chateau, her town house, and Paris. Of course, to all Americans this is just like a fairy tale. Rene thanked me tonight for having the tea for her. "Perhaps this is just what you two needed to get along," he said. But I don't think so.

  October 31

  I AM MISERABLE. Charlotte insists on following her own plan of action in the house, and it does not include me. She is all over at once, ordering the servants about. Bridget has become sullen. Mrs. Moore doesn't speak any more than necessary, and Charley stays out in the stables as much as he can.

  How can I run a house this way? What will happen when she leaves? Will they resent me because I didn't stand up for them? I must do something, even to show my objections to the way things are going. Rene is so busy he is scarce home, and as long as he gets his breakfast and his supper he doesn't care how the house is run. And I can't complain to him all the time. I don't want to be a nag.

  November 1

  IT IS GETTING cold at night. We need an extra blanket. Rene has had Charley make fires in the hearths in the dining room and the parlor. I am still working on the baby's layette.

  November 2

  MY THOUGHTS turn more and more to home. Rene had said we should make the trip by the end of the month, so I can spend the winter months in the South with my family, but I wish to go sooner. I mentioned it to Bridget this morning, because she is to go with me, as well as Rene.

  But Bridget caught on right away. "You want to leave because of the old lady," she said.

  "Yes."

  "Don't let her drive you away. Stand up to her."

  "How?"

  She thought for a moment. Then she told me how. "Go to her in the kitchen. Take out of her hands whatever she is doing and say, 'Now, Charlotte, you are visiting and we want you to be treated as a visitor, as the grand lady you are. So you just let Bridget and Mrs. Moore and me handle things in the kitchen and go into the parlor and put your feet up and finish that blanket you were knitting for the baby. And I'll bring you a cup of tea.'"

  I stared at her. "Will it work?"

  "I guarantee it will."

  "I can't do it. I just can't."

  "You must, Rose. It's the only way."

  It was after supper and we were on the side porch. Rene was in his study. I don't know where Charlotte was. "Let me think about it," I said. "I need to go somewhere where I can think about it." And I got up and walked around the side of the house. Where could I go? And then I knew.

  "Go inside and get my warm cloak, Bridget, and trolley fare."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Just do it."

  She did. I put the cloak on and walked to the front of the house and waited for the trolley to the sand dunes. All the while Bridget was on me. I couldn't go alone. Rene would worry. "Then let him worry," I said. Maybe he needs to worry a bit, and all the while it was coming on to me that this was why I was doing it.

  I was, in a sense, running away to make Rene worry.

  What I really wanted was to go home, but this would have to do for now.

  Bridget waited with me until the trolley came, and then I looked at her. "I'll be back on the last trolley. Don't tell anyone."

  "The master will have my head," she complained.

  "Don't tell him," I ordered. "You work for me, not for him." And then I boarded the trolley.

  20

  November 2 (continued)

  IT WAS PAST twilight when I boarded the trolley, the melancholy of an autumn evening. There were more shadows than remnants of sunlight, and in the west the sky was streaked with red and purple.

  There was nobody on the trolley but me.

  "Where to, missy?" the conductor asked.

  "The end of the line."

  "Kind of late for a pretty little missy like you to be going that far."

  I felt a pang of fear. "I have friends there," I said.

  We started off. As we bumped along, the houses grew more and more distant from each other, less grand, and more lonesome. Yet there was a beauty about the sand dunes and salt marshes and the wind that swept through the grasses. In some places I saw children playing, and as if that were a signal to the babe inside me, he quickened. And I thought: Will he grow up here, running and playing at 1600 Dorchester, or will he grow up on another beach down south? I already knew what name to put on what I was doing.

  I was running away. As surely as if I'd packed a bag and taken a trolley to the steamer line at the docks.

  I was running away like a child. And if Rene wanted me back, if he truly loved me, he would come and fetch me home.

  If he truly loved me. I felt an ache inside. A knowing that made me realize why I was doing this. It wasn't being mistress of the house so much as it was wanting Rene to stand up to his mother for me. I wanted proof of his love. Childish, yes, but it was all I wanted at the moment. Even while I was angry with him for allowing his mother
to come into our house and turn it all topsy-turvy.

  Because then I knew. I loved him. I had all along and I was growing, daily, in my love for him. And this wasn't supposed to happen. I married him because of my parents, so they wouldn't lose their plantation, so Rene wouldn't be able to bring himself to foreclose on the plantation if he had to.

  And now I'd fallen in love with him. And I was darned if I was going to love him if he didn't love me.

  I needed him to come to me, to prove that he loved me.

  I had a brief moment of panic then, thinking: What if Bridget obeys me and doesn't tell him where I've gone? I could be on the sand dunes all night! And then I thought: What if he is angry and doesn't want to come?

  I quelled these fears quickly and sat back to enjoy the scenery, and before I knew it we were at the end of the line, where the trolley turned around, where the sand dunes and marshes beckoned.

  I got off with a cheerful nod to the driver, as if I knew what I was about. There were a few scattered cottages around, so it wasn't completely the end of the world. Then I stood and watched the trolley disappear from sight.

  I was alone. Except for the wind and the gentle lapping of the waves and the cry of the seagulls. Several were picking their way along the beach, and I wished I had brought some bread for them. I could have been the last woman on the face of the earth.

  I felt a well of loneliness inside me. Why did I have to be the one out here in the wilderness when I was indeed the Mistress of Dorchester? Was I the vanquished one?