Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Gray

by Dorothy Love

  The two white girls, Emily and Harriett, pinned a pattern to one of the pieces of linen, and Missus cut it up. Missus said it was gone be a pair of drawers, which made Kitty giggle until Missus frowned at her. Sure enough, that stopped her cold. Missus showed us how to thread a needle and made us practice stitching on an old piece of blue cloth she took from a bag of rags. I about poked my fingers full of holes until Missus showed me how to use a thimble, and how the needle would slide through the cloth easier if you pushed it through a cake of beeswax first. Why she didn’t say so in the first place is a big mystery.

  The first several days, Missus wouldn’t let me and Kitty do anything but practice. Then she started us on finishing the legs of the drawers and then Harriett sewed the legs onto a waistband. We made a dozen pairs.

  Next was petticoats. Missus tried to teach me how to make tucks in the cloth, but I never could make the rows come out even and she gave up. Instead, she showed me how to do embroidery. It was the same motion with the needle over and over, and after a while I was making little blue flowers all over the bottom of Miss Mary’s new petticoat, which seemed silly. Who’s gone see the flowers anyway, hid under Miss Mary’s skirts? But then again, white folks have lots of notions that don’t make hardly a lick of sense when you stop to think about it.

  Every day along about dinnertime Missus sent us out to the porch where there was a table set up, and we had bread and butter and milk. If the sun was out we could walk to the garden to see if anything was blooming yet, and then Missus would clap her hands and bring us back to our work.

  Afternoons, with a full belly and the sound of the cousins chattering back and forth, it was hard to stay awake. I practiced spelling words in my head. I thought about Thursday and Althea down in the kitchen, and I wondered if Lottie forgot about me already and if she would remember me when the sewing was done and I got back to the dairy again.

  After a while we had filled a trunk with chemises, drawers, and petticoats. Daniel brought the carriage around one morning and took the white girls home. Then it was me and Liza and Kitty left to help Missus finish the dressing gowns.

  Missus told us over and over to be careful because the silk was dear as gold, and the more times she reminded me of it, the more nervous I got. One day somehow the needle slipped and stuck my finger. Blood dripped onto the hem.

  Missus was busy folding another petticoat Kitty had just finished, so she didn’t see me when I jumped up and ran out the door with no safe place to go. I didn’t dare face the missus, even though she would find out soon enough that I had ruined her finest creation.

  I ran as fast as I could, my head filling up with all sorts of terrible things. Every slave at Arlington knew about folks from other plantations who had been sold South for things like breaking a crystal butter dish or leaving the field too soon or talking back. Althea said once you was sold South you wasn’t never heard of again. What if Missus sent me South? I’d never see Mauma or my daddy again. No more helping Ephraim in the garden. No more of Althea’s stories. No more Lottie. No more lessons with Miss Mary.

  I couldn’t go home to Mauma either. She wouldn’t send me away, but she would whip me so hard I’d wish for the next boat to anywhere. I was crying so hard I was blinded.

  Then Miss Mary called my name. I cried even harder because I had ruined something special that was hers, and even if I survived whatever punishment was coming to me, Miss Mary never would speak to me again. That was the worst part of it.

  She gave me her own handkerchief, which smelled sweet. Like flowers or spices or something. “Now, dry your eyes and go back inside,” she said.

  “I can’t go by myself. You got to come with me.”

  She bent down to look me straight in the eye and told me I had to have courage for whatever things happened in life. Then she held my hand and we went back inside.

  I wasn’t anybody’s fool. Mister Robert was bound to take up most of the room in Miss Mary’s heart. But I hoped she would save a little spot for me.

  6 | MARY

  Robert wrote that he was unwilling to wait any longer and would arrive at the end of June. At which time we would become husband and wife and then proceed to his new posting at Fortress Monroe. I chose half a dozen bridesmaids. Robert rounded up an equal number of men to stand as groomsmen and chose his brother Smith to be best man. Papa conferred with our minister, the Reverend Dr. Keith, and the ceremony was set for the evening of June thirtieth.

  Servants, both ours and borrowed, were dispatched to ready the house for the guests and our wedding party. Food was prepared, beds made up, silver polished. The china and silver that had once belonged to my great-grandmother graced table and sideboard. The carpets were beaten and aired, the curtains washed and pressed, the woodwork polished to a high gleam. Mother prevailed upon friends and family to lend us mattresses, candlesticks, punch bowls, and cake baskets, and by the eve of the wedding all was in readiness.

  Except for the bride. Unable to sleep and seized by a strange melancholy, I wandered through the rooms of the only home I had ever known, pausing at the touchstones of my childhood. The portrait of President Washington when he served as colonel in the Virginia Militia. My great-grandmother’s tea table in the parlor, and her silver service on the sideboard in the dining room where Robert proposed. The chair where I often sat on Papa’s lap while he read to me from the newspapers. Porcelain cups on the mantel. Shelves of books I had read over and over.

  My new life, fraught with uncertainty, was about to commence.

  I went to bed after midnight and slept fitfully until Mother woke me and sent me down to breakfast. I managed to eat a biscuit with a cup of tea and was on my way upstairs when Papa intercepted me in the hallway.

  “Mary Anna, you are pale as milk, my girl. Are you sorry now that you prevailed upon me to approve this match? If that be the case, it is not too late to change your mind.”

  “Don’t tease me, Papa. I am already a ball of nerves.”

  “I would be worried if you weren’t. Marriage is a serious business.”

  “Robert says the wedding service has all the charm of a death warrant.”

  He chuckled and tucked my arm through his. “Walk with me awhile.”

  We went out into a June morning heavy with clouds. In the garden, Ephraim and Selina were busy cutting roses for the vases in the parlor. Daniel was readying our carriage for the first trip of the day, ferrying family and guests from the river landing to the house for the ceremony.

  “I want to speak to you about the matter of your allowance,” Papa said. “I’m thinking that a sum of—”

  “You are quite generous, Papa, but no. Robert and I must live only on his military pay if we are to forge a true partnership.”

  His brows rose. “Do you know how little a lieutenant earns?”

  “It isn’t much, but we will be living at Fort Monroe, and our expenses will be few.” I watched the boats plying the glassy Potomac. “Besides, you have many other financial obligations to consider. Repairs to the house and this wedding have cost a—”

  “That’s my business, not yours.”

  “Anything that worries you worries me. And I know you’ve spent far more on this bridal than we can afford.”

  “My only child deserves the best.” He patted my hand. “At least you won’t be completely without comfort and assistance. Your mother insists upon your taking a servant with you.”

  “Yes. She’s sending Cassie, though I don’t know why. Robert says we will be living in officers’ quarters. In so small a space there won’t be much for Cassie to do.”

  The rattle of harness and the creak of carriage wheels announced the arrival of my bridesmaids. “I must go, Papa.”

  “I know.” He caught both my hands in his. “I have loved you desperately all my life, and that won’t change, Mary Anna, when I am compelled to share your affections with Lieutenant Lee. Wherever you must go, be assured of your father’s tender affections, and never forget that Arlington will always
be your home.”

  He headed toward the garden, and I went back to the house in time to see my cousin Marietta and my friend Angela exiting the carriage.

  “Dear Mary!” Marietta dropped her hatbox to embrace me. “Are you not excited beyond words?”

  Excited? Yes. But lacking the inner peace I so desperately needed. Everything was moving too fast. Angela embraced me in turn and we went inside. Daniel followed with their trunks. There was scarcely time to get Marietta and Angela settled into their rooms before my other attendants arrived. Mother served a light luncheon, after which a small army of servants appeared to drape flower garlands in the doorways to the dining room and the parlor.

  Robert arrived, bearing six extravagant bouquets for my bridesmaids and looking so resplendent in his dress uniform that my heart seized. The bouquets were a gallant and charming gesture, so typical of him. But I couldn’t help thinking that surely those flowers had cost him a month’s pay.

  “Shall we help you with your dress?” Angela asked.

  “In a little while.” I felt dizzy, and my skin had gone hot. I retreated to my room and stood at the window, watching as the sky darkened and rain began to fall. Guests arrived, hurrying along beneath black umbrellas. Our old servant Peter manned the door. The sound of his greetings wafted up the stairs.

  I pressed my fingers to my temples. Papa was still worried about my transition from the ease of life at Arlington to the trials of a nomadic army existence, but I had complete faith and trust in Robert. Still, as the hour of our marriage drew near, my faith in my own adaptability faltered. I doubted my ability to be selfless where my husband’s happiness was concerned. I was, as I have said, accustomed to getting my own way. Renowned among my friends and family for my disregard of convention. Admittedly, I had fallen into a terrible habit of arriving late to important engagements. And more than once I had turned up somewhere important without the proper attire, much to my mother’s dismay.

  Such things mattered little to me, but Robert was a military officer, an engineer accustomed to precision, order, and punctuality. He was a delightful suitor—charming and affectionate—but what if we were too different to live together for the rest of our lives?

  Someone knocked at my door, and then Angela burst in, her eyes bright with amusement. “Mary! Your preacher has arrived soaked to the skin, and there are no clothes but your father’s to dress him in!”

  Three of my other attendants crowded into my room, all of them stifling laughter.

  “I caught a glimpse of the poor half-drowned reverend, and I must say he looks quite comical,” Angela said. “But don’t worry, his robes will cover the fact that your father’s breeches come barely to his ankles.”

  Then Mother arrived to help me get dressed. My gown was exquisitely made and perfectly fitted to my small frame, but compared to my beautiful and vivacious bridesmaids I felt like a wren among a flock of exotic birds.

  Mother finished doing up the buttons and turned me around. “What’s the matter, child?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that Robert is so handsome and I’m so plain. I fear I won’t be a credit to him tonight.”

  Mother patted my cheek. “Stop your fretting. Whatever a girl may be the day before her wedding, or however she may appear on the day after, on her wedding day she is always beautiful. Now don’t keep Robert waiting.”

  The bridesmaids assembled in the upper hallway. We walked down the stairs single file and into the candlelit parlor where Robert stood next to Smith. His groomsmen were lined up behind him, their faces solemn in the candlelight.

  Robert winked and reached for my hand, and Dr. Keith began the service. Later I could recall nothing of it except the reading of scripture and Robert’s chaste kiss after we said our vows.

  Our friends crowded around us, offering kisses and congratulations. Supper was served, after which Aunt Nelly took her place at the piano and the dancing commenced.

  Robert swept me into his arms. “Well, Molly, the deed is done. How does it feel to be Mrs. Lee?”

  He was a head taller than I, and I had to pull away to look up into his eyes. “Why, it feels just fine, Lieutenant.”

  “You’re not sorry you didn’t marry Sam Houston? I heard he was quite taken with you.”

  “Heavens! Sam Houston is nearly forty. And anyway, he married someone else.”

  “I heard she left him right after their I-dos, poor devil.” Robert twirled me around. “Promise never to leave me, Molly. I could not bear it.”

  “I never wanted anyone but you.”

  “I never expected you would be mine, and see how it turned out. Your parents have given us a lovely celebration,” he murmured. “Our wedding is certain to be long remembered.”

  Smith tapped my husband’s shoulder. “Mind if I dance with your bride, Robert?”

  Smith took me in his arms. “You make a lovely bride, Mary.”

  “Thank you. You make a handsome best man.”

  He smiled. “Aren’t you just a wee bit sorry you married my little brother when you could have had me?”

  “You never were serious about marriage, Smith Lee, and you know it.”

  The song ended and our guests gathered hats and shawls, summoned their carriages, and went home. Papa and Mother and our wedding attendants made themselves scarce as the evening waned.

  Robert took my hand. “Shall we retire for the evening, Mrs. Lee?”

  We went upstairs to the room that had been prepared for us. The lamps were lit, and the yellow flames guttered softly in the rain-cooled breeze that stirred the lace curtains at the open window. Vases of lilacs perfumed the air.

  Robert scooped me up and carried me into the room. “There,” he said softly. “We are safely over the threshold. No evil can come to us now, Mary.”

  It was nothing more than a lovely old superstition, but that night, safe in my new husband’s arms, I believed it was true.

  Each night was filled with an abundance of food and drink, dancing, and good-natured teasing. The men played card games and billiards, raising such a commotion that at times our quiet home seemed more like a barracks. My bridesmaids danced and flirted with Robert’s groomsmen, and everyone admired our wedding gifts displayed on a table in the parlor. The frolicking reached all the way to the servants’ quarters, where Papa had seen to it that our servants had plenty to eat and drink.

  On Sunday night, tired and overwrought from the constant press of warm bodies and the smells of powder, wine, and lavender wafting through the rooms, I retreated to the back hallway for a breath of air and a moment of solitude.

  “There you are, my dear.” Papa came down the stairs and kissed my cheek. “I’ve been waiting for a moment to get you alone so I could give you this.” From his pocket he took a small box carved of ivory and set with emeralds and rubies. “I saw this in New York and wanted you to have it as a remembrance of your wedding.”

  “It’s exquisite, Papa, and I’ll cherish it forever. But you have done so much for us already, I—”

  “Mr. Custis?” Smith Lee came into the hallway holding a glass of punch. “Mrs. Custis is looking for you.”

  Papa excused himself. Smith bowed to me and followed him.

  Before I could reach the back door, Mrs. Pinckney, a large woman with a florid complexion and a mass of jet-black curls, wandered in from the conservatory. She was related to one of Robert’s groomsmen—I wasn’t certain exactly how. Her eyes went immediately to the ivory box in my hand.

  “Oh, what a dear little thing! And so unusual. I have never seen anything like it.” Mrs. Pinckney held out her hand. “May I hold it?”

  Reluctantly I handed it to her.

  She said, “I don’t suppose you’d consider selling it.”

  I gaped at her. “Of course not. It’s a wedding gift from my father.”

  She handed it back, then opened her reticule and pressed a calling card into my hand. “If you should ever change your mind—”

  “I can’t imagine I ever will.”r />
  She went back to join the ladies, and I escaped into the cool June evening.

  By Tuesday most of our guests had left. Mother went with Robert and me to visit kin at Ravensworth, where she and I fell ill with fever and ague. I was mortified, but Robert was an attentive husband, forever asking how I was feeling, always ready to bring a glass of water or an extra blanket whenever I needed it.

  After I had been abed for several days, he came into the room and laid half a dozen white rosebuds on my counterpane. “Dear Mrs. Lee,” he said gravely, “I do hope you are feeling better today.”

  Who could not feel cheered by such charming gallantry? I smiled up at him. “I am much improved, thank you. Have you seen Mother yet this morning?”

  “I have, and she seems better as well. She is having tea and toast as we speak. Shall I bring you some?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m well enough to get dressed and go down.” I threw back the covers and got to my feet, feeling weaker than I was willing to admit.

  Robert came up behind me and kissed the back of my neck. “I’ll leave you to your ablutions then, dear wife, and wait breakfast for you downstairs.”

  I took fresh underthings from my trunk and poured water into the washbasin. “I won’t be long.”

  At the door he paused, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Are you certain I can’t help you dress? Although I would much rather help you out of those lacy fripperies than into them.”

  The next morning we left Ravensworth for visits with cousins at Woodlawn and Kinloch. It was my first visit to my Turner cousins in over a year. Thomas and Elizabeth fussed over us, showering us with food and gifts and good wishes. Their girls dragged me to the stable to see the colt Eliza had named Fauquier, now a handsome three-year-old. They peppered me with questions, wanting to know every detail of the wedding.

  “Did Cousin Robert bring you flowers?” Caroline wanted to know.

  “Yes, and he brought bouquets for all my bridesmaids as well. You should have seen our parlor. It looked as if all the flowers in the world had escaped their gardens and come inside.”