Sisterly Love: The Saga of Lizzie and Emma Borden

by Jordan Bollinger

  So, with all the fine, kind-hearted values of the good Congregationalist I had been raised to be, I waited. Emma, on the other hand, drowned herself -- or at least, tried to -- in "good works." She went from church, to church, to church, as if she were searching for her own, personal Holy Grail. She collected for all sorts of charities and causes, and she dragged poor little Alice along with her.

  Eventually, she found a church that appeared to meet her needs. This new church made the churches founded by our Puritan forefathers seem rather loose and lax by comparison. She threw herself into this new sect like a zealot.

  For, while I was willing to give Fall River some time, Emma was not. When I suggested we hold another very small tea -- perhaps with just Mrs. Bowen, and Mrs. Churchill and Alice, Emma balked outright. The good people of Fall River, for the most part, had turned their backs on her. So, she, in turn, turned her back on them.

  Thinking back on it, I should have seen something was very wrong. While she had never been gregarious, she was now dour at best. After all, it had been I who had been arrested and held in prison for months and months, humiliated and disheartened. Yet, it was she who turned her back on our fellow citizens -- because of what they had done to her.

  Not only did she no longer want to have anything to do with Fall River -- with the exception of a select few of her new fellow church members -- she didn't seem to want to have very much to do with me, either.

  For a very long time -- years, in fact -- I continued to go to church at least once a month. And, I would go downstreet and do my best to interact with people as I shopped. This was a very delicate tightrope to walk, for no one seemed particularly friendly to me. So, I had to remember to smile, and be courteous and cordial to all I interacted with, yet still remember to not put myself too much forward.

  Even though Emma saw how important being accepted was to me, she did everything in her power to dissuade me from going out. No, she wanted me to remain at home -- either with, or without her.

  In fact, the only place she wanted me to go was to her new church with her. So, as I had done most of my life, I obliged my sister. However, I found it an even more unpleasant experience than attending Central Congregational. For, most of this congregation was made of other tight-lipped, spinsters -- old before their time -- who thought the worst of everyone who did not attend church with them. After two or three times, I simply refused to go with her any more.

  Time went on, and with the exception of Alice and the servants, we saw or spoke to very few people. As Emma pressed for me to stay within the confines of our house -- beautiful as is was -- I began to pull back from her. At the time, I was most ashamed of my feelings, and did my best to resist the urge.

  But, it was always within me, just below my skin. After all, I had spent the better part of a year in confinement. I vowed I would never be held captive again.

  In direct contrast, Emma seemed to embrace isolation. She would no longer go downstreet to shop, or even to Alice's. She did, however, spend a great deal of time in the little room we -- pretentiously perhaps -- called the library, reading her Bible and other religious literature. She chided me if I even went downstreet just to look at shop windows and dream.

  As time went by, I began to think perhaps it was a good thing, after all, that the house was so roomy. If we became vexed with each other about something now, at least we had our own separate sulking quarters.

  And, Emma spent much of her time sulking.

  Chapter Nineteen

  With the exception of my trip abroad, the furthest away from Fall River I had ever traveled was Boston. Even then, it had only been once. Abby had taken me to consult with a doctor about some severe headaches I began having when I was about twelve.

  When I realized that the people of Fall River -- people I had known my entire life -- had chosen to shun me, I gave consideration to the possibility of me shunning them -- at least, on the odd occasion and for brief periods of time.

  Boston offered some very excellent stores for shopping. It also had a fine reputation for an impressive theatre district. Even as a child, I adored plays of any kind. I was seriously thinking that perhaps what Emma and I needed was a short vacation -- of sorts -- from each other.

  I consulted Mr. Jennings, whom I had continued to rely on even after my acquittal, and asked if he thought it suitable for me to go to Boston, alone for a few days. If so, could he recommend a respectable hotel. It was not until much later -- years, even -- I realized that, at the mature age of thirty-four, I still felt the need to ask a man for permission to go on a little pleasure trip to Boston. When I came to this realization, it irked me greatly.

  Perhaps, there was something to what those suffragettes were saying.

  After Mr. Jennings said he was sure I would be fine, and suggested a couple of possible hotels, he gently took hold of my hand. In a very low, soft voice, he said, "While I see nothing wrong in you going to Boston, I would suggest you book your accommodations under an assumed name."

  I am sure my mouth dropped open in shock, but before I could say anything, he continued, "Like it or not, my dear, your name is recognizable and carries a certain stigma. If you wish to have a peaceful, uneventful holiday, use another name."

  This left me with a great deal of food for thought. I remember how I pulled down the shades in the carriage for the short ride home. I shrunk back against the seat -- hurt, ashamed, and humiliated.

  I also experienced something else -- anger. For the first time I resented all that had happened. I was furious with everyone, about everything they had done. I had endured finding my parents slaughtered. I had tried to uphold the family honor. I had been interrogated, arrested, and held in captivity for nearly a year.

  Through it all, I had done my best to bear it with Christian charity. Then I had been declared "not guilty" so, naturally, I had fully expected to be embraced by my friends and neighbors. What I found, instead, was lip service, crude curiosity, and unreasonable disapproval.

  I believe it was in that moment I realized my mistaking the meaning of the jury's verdict, for there is a world of difference between "innocent" and "not guilty."

  I was driven to French Street and, once home, went straight up to my room. Emma was out collecting for some charity or other, so I did not have to explain my sour mood. I had been shut in my bedroom for about an hour when Jane knocked on my door to ask if I was unwell.

  Presented with the perfect excuse, I lied. I told her I did have a headache and asked if she would bring me a cup of tea. God bless Jane. She never asked one question about what I had been through, or said or did anything that judged me. She assured me she would bring up my tea, instruct Cook to prepare me a light supper on a tray, and tell Emma I was indisposed when she came home.

  Yes, God bless Jane.

  *****

  As much as I would have liked to have just stayed in my room, I knew I could not. First of all, Emma would never allow it. Secondly, I had not been released from jail only to imprison myself in my room. No, I was going away for awhile.

  The next day I arose with a plan. I decided to do my own research, and went to the library -- yes, I actually did know where it was. I studied the Boston papers. I selected a hotel that seemed to be a popular venue for society parties, feeling it should be safe and respectable. I consulted a train schedule and a calendar, and formulated my plans.

  I made my train and hotel reservations. I even requested for the concierge to obtain tickets to several plays and a concert I wished to attend. Also, I am ashamed to say I followed Mr. Jennings suggestion and used a false name.

  Jane and I began laying out the clothes I wished to take, and packing. But, I said nothing to Emma until the evening before I was to leave. In the easiest of tones, I told her I had made arrangements to go to Boston for several days, and would leave shortly after breakfast the next morning.

  She stopped, her soup spoon in midair, and stared at me as if I had grown a second head. After a moment, she blinked a number o
f times, took a sip of her soup, and continued talking about how she wanted me to go to a church meeting with her the next day.

  However, I stood fast. I calmly told her I would not be able to go with her, and repeated I would be away for a brief holiday. We finished our meal in silence.

  Emma was still most put out, but did not try to dissuade me. Thinking back on it, she most probably thought if she simply ignored my plans, they would go away. Now, while I did not reiterate my plans, I did not back down.

  At the appointed time, I rose from the breakfast table, and told Jane I had left my itinerary written on a pad on my desk should an emergency arise. I am very much afraid I over-stressed the word "emergency" to Jane, and within Emma's hearing as well.

  Then, I kissed my sister on her cheek. She followed me out, through the foyer and onto the porch. Still she said nothing. So, I smiled pleasantly, walked down the steps, and climbed into the carriage. I settled myself in and, once we were pulling away, I gave her the teeniest little wave. I was off.

  For one terrible second, I held my breath. I was truly afraid Emma would do something to stop me. It even popped into my head that she might "accidently" tumble down the front steps. To be honest, I do not know what I would have done if she had.

  But, soon I was sitting in my seat on the train, waiting for my short trip to the big city to begin. I was so very excited I could barely contain myself. I was off on an adventure. Rather than go directly from the railroad station to the hotel, I asked the cab man to drive me around the city and show me the sights. I could hear Emma's voice in my ear, saying what a foolish waste of money it was. But my little voice was saying, Hang the expense!

  The hotel was very nice, situated just across from a park, and quite near the center of things. My accommodations were lovely, and the service was outstanding. After sitting so long, first on the train and then in the hack, I decided I would go for a little walk of discovery and unpack when I returned.

  I had never cared much about food. Simple, home-style cooking had always been enough for me. But the restaurants I went to in Boston were every bit as wonderful as the ones in Europe. I thoroughly enjoyed the music, and lights, and people all about. Even sitting alone at my solitary table, I felt a part of it.

  Please do not think harshly of me. I had not, by any means, turned against my sister. I even went out of my way to seek out a religious bookstore to choose a number of books I thought she would appreciate. I purchased nothing for myself, without purchasing something for her -- a trinket, or a hat, or a shawl. And I dreamed of a time when I could eventually lure her from our house and out into this world of beauty and wonder -- into life.

  I surprised myself and even went to a few art galleries and museums. I was enchanted by what I discovered. Yet -- of everything I did, everywhere I went, and everything I saw -- the most joyous and wonderful of all was the theatre.

  Never had anything I had seen -- not even in the grandest places in Europe -- compared to the theatre. How marvelous it was. Each play was more exciting and special than the last. Night after night, tragedies, comedies, and romances paraded before me. I reveled in them all.

  Perhaps, even more wonderful was how I saw the same people at all these places, and they began to recognize me. They would smile and nod at me across restaurant dining rooms and speak to me in the lobby of the theatres. I was out in the world and with people who did not know the horror of my past.

  One casual introduction at the hotel desk led to others. I was asked if I would like to accompany people to supper after the theatre, or meet for an aperitif before dinner the next evening. Imagine me out for an aperitif! Whatever had become of my stern stance against alcohol?. I was not only out in the world, I was meeting people and enjoying myself.

  I returned to Fall River, French Street, and Emma renewed and rejuvenated. Emma begrudgingly accepted my gifts and listened to my tales, wearing a face that would scare children. Then, she went to church.

  I was left alone to relive everything I had experienced, and to dream of my next trip.

  Chapter Twenty

  I corresponded with several of my newfound friends. The feeling of interacting, even through letters, was like being reborn. If any of them had discovered my true name, and, thereby, my connection to the Fall River murders, they never said. To be frank, I did not care whether it was merely a polite acceptance of my veiled personae or they did not really know. I had found acceptance, and that was all that mattered.

  Over the next several months, I traveled back to Boston a number of times. Each time, I found the experience more exhilarating than the last.

  I had been going to Boston for about a year, when one of my new "city" friends wrote and asked me if I would care to meet Nance O'Neil. I could not believe my eyes. Nance O'Neil! She was not only one of the most renowned actresses of our time, she was my particular favorite.

  I was thrilled. She was unbelievably talented. With each performance, she astounded me more than the last.

  As difficult as it was to believe, I was going to meet my idol. I wanted to share my good fortune and asked Emma to accompany me. After all, I thought it could only do her good. Besides, it was such a wonderful opportunity. Surely, no one -- even my very prim sister -- would be able to let such an opportunity pass. Or so I thought.

  However, Emma had other ideas. She not only refused my suggestion she accompany me, but did not waste polite words in doing so. She was very direct and to the point. The theatre was an abomination. Theatre people were sinners, doomed to eternal damnation. All those who supported it were destined for the same fate.

  I did try to change her mind, once, only to be subjected to a long and barely intelligible rant on the evils of theatre. So, rather than wasting her time, as well as my own, I let the subject drop. Instead, I planned my next trip with enthusiasm, and hoped my sister would reconsider.

  Of course, she did not. Truth be told, I never believed she would. And, perhaps, she really could not.

  After counting the seconds, eventually the day arrived, and I traveled once more to Boston. I not only enjoyed a great play, but was introduced to the leading lady, Nance O'Neil. I am terribly afraid I acted like a silly schoolgirl, but it was surreal to be in this famous woman's presence. Even now, after all this time has passed, I have no words to express all I felt.

  *****

  Eventually, I was able to act and speak as a normal person with Nance. Of course, that only happened after several meetings and conversations. Our mutual friend had known Nance for years, and invited her to accompany us to luncheons, walks, and late night suppers. And, over time, Nance and I got to know each other, and considered each other friends outright.

  Now, Nance played in Boston, New York and Washington, D.C., but she did not really care for New York. She tended to spend as little time as she could manage there. But, she did enjoy Washington, and often spoke about how very nice it was.

  After a time, I began to think about traveling to Washington, D.C. -- but only every now and again, as I lay awake in the darkness when I was having difficulty sleeping. Then, I started thinking about it as I sat outside in the afternoon sun. Before I knew it, I found myself dreaming about it almost continually.

  Eventually, I decided I had to go at least once, but I did not act on my decision right away. I was already very aware of Emma's thoughts on my traveling, even just the short trip to Boston. Washington, D.C. was five or six states away. I could only imagine what her opinion would be of this latest of my, as she would say, "notions."

  In true "Borden-fashion," I chose not to mention it. Oh, yes. Father would have been proud of my stance... if you could call cowardly ignoring something a stance. Since no plans had actually been made, there was no hurry. Why muddy the waters?

  I was in regular communication with several acquaintances in Boston. I also heard more sporadically from Nance and one or two actor friends of hers. What she did send me most regularly was her acting schedule. This allowed me to plan trips into Boston when
she would be performing.

  Once I decided I was going to take the plunge and travel to Washington, D.C., I wrote to my friends and asked if they were interested as well. Plans were suggested, presented to everyone, and eventually a complete itinerary was worked out. Still, I simply could not bring myself to speak to Emma.

  The truth was, I could not even talk to her about my going to Washington, D.C., let alone try to convince her to join me.

  Emma, herself, presented me with a solution to my conundrum. Alice had been most unwell for a number of months. No specific illness. I did not mean to imply she had been confined to her bed. She had just been peaked. Even Emma had noticed, and looked into renting a small cottage for a month or so on Cape Cod for the three of us.

  I allowed her to think I was willing to accompanying them. Since my trip was scheduled for the middle of when she was planning to be away, I thought I could seem to acquiesce, and change my mind at the last minute. Or, perhaps, go along, but come home after only a few days. The upshot was, I believed I would not have to tell Emma at all.

  Then, Alice became truly ill. In her weakened condition, a summer sniffle blossomed until she was in bed with pneumonia. After cancelling the cottage, Emma told me she was going to stay at Alice's to take care of her. Of course, I put my foot down. I called for Jane, and instructed her to prepare Miss Alice's room -- hot water bottles in the bed, and the draperies drawn, and anything else she could think of to make Alice comfortable.

  I sent for the carriage, and told Emma to go and collect our friend. I instructed Cook to make chicken soup and egg custard, and anything she thought might tempt an ill person.

  While they all went about their tasks, I looked through the house for magazines and light reading to provide Alice with something -- anything -- other than Emma's dry books of sermons. I was just placing several bowls of flowers in the room, when Emma and Alice arrived.