Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Gray

by Dorothy Love

  The landing was a colorful, noisy swarm of dockworkers, traders, merchants, and copper-skinned natives wearing leather breeches. Carriages and drays lined the docks. A whistle screeched, startling Rooney, who began to wail. Robert took the baby in his arms as we went down the gangplank. Boo, wearing his Indian headdress, clung to my hand, too overcome to misbehave. Kitty, in her rumpled yellow dress, bonnet askew, came last, her arms laden with the children’s toys, my shawl, and one of Rooney’s shoes.

  To the other passengers we must have resembled a small traveling circus. But Robert’s joy was so contagious that despite missing our daughter, I found myself looking forward to a new adventure.

  14 | SELINA

  Brought you a present.” Thornton Gray caught up with me on the path up to the house.

  I was late reporting to Missus because Mauma was feeling sickly after my little sister was born. For some reason Mauma gave the baby the name of Mary, which made her the fourth Mary at Arlington behind Missus and Miss Mary and Miss Mee. It seemed like Mauma ought to have picked something less confusing.

  My brother, Wesley, was six years old—old enough to help in the garden and tend the chickens, but when it came to looking after Mauma and the baby, he was useless. The night before, Judah brought by some slippery elm tea and told me to warm it up for Mauma when she first waked up. I fixed her tea and cleaned up the squalling baby and made sure Daddy had his dinner bucket filled with biscuits and molasses before he went off to get the fields ready for planting the winter wheat.

  The baby had cried and carried on half the night, and now I was sleepy and too tired for any of Thornton Gray’s foolishness.

  He stuck his hand in his pocket and brought out a strip of lace. It was fine as a spiderweb and so pretty I just about stopped breathing. But Thornton Gray was already too sure of himself to suit me, so I acted like it was nothing special.

  “Ain’t you going to say anything?”

  In the last year he had got his growth on him, and he was nearly a head taller than me. The rest of him had finally caught up with his long arms and legs, and his hair was thick and black as ink. He looked like a man now. He had taken to walking with me to church on Sunday nights, and mostly he stayed for the sermon and the singing. Miss Mary would be pleased about that. But she was out West and too busy to study on what was happening back home.

  “It is very pretty.” I tucked the lace into my pocket. “Thank you.”

  “It was the prettiest they had. Come all the way from Europe. That’s where they make the best lace in the world.”

  “You don’t say.” Missus had let him go to the Georgetown market to help Lawrence sell our fall produce, and now all of a sudden Thornton Gray thought he was a man of the world.

  We reached the back door. “I got to go in. Missus don’t like it when I’m late.”

  “Brought you something else.” He pulled a folded-up paper out of his pocket. “Keep it to yourself.”

  I unfolded it. “The Liberator?”

  “It’s a newspaper about freedom,” Thornton said. “Some man up in Massachusetts is writin’ it.”

  Dread slithered up my spine and coiled in my insides. It had been seven years since Nat Turner was hanged and skinned for killing white people, but it still scared me every time I thought about it.

  “I don’t want it. You better burn it before you get us both in trouble.”

  The back door flew open and there stood Missus. “Selina.”

  I crumpled the paper and hid it in my pocket. “Yessum.”

  “You are late.”

  “I’m sorry. Mauma was—”

  “Never mind. Please come inside. We have much to accomplish today.” Missus glared at Thornton. “Do you not have anything to do?”

  “I got plenty of chores.” He turned and jogged down the path toward the stables.

  I went inside with Missus. She set me to polishing Mister Washington’s silver. Again. While I was getting out my polishing cloth, she caught my chin in her hand and said, “Selina Norris. What are you up to?”

  The Liberator was setting like a lead weight in my pocket. My heart jerked hard against my ribs. “Nothing, Missus.”

  “Hmm. Are you by any chance courting Thornton Gray?”

  “Not especially. He sits with me at church some.”

  She smiled. “So I noticed.”

  “He hasn’t asked me to marry him or anything.”

  “At your age I should hope not.”

  Just then there was a big commotion in the parlor. A yell and then a crash and little Miss Mee started crying. She was always getting into something because Mister Custis carried her on his shoulder nearly everywhere he went. But then he would put her down somewhere and forget to watch her, and she’d get herself into all kinds of hot water. Missus hurried out to see what was the matter this time, and I could breathe again.

  Missus kept me so busy the rest of the day, dusting and sweeping and carrying the clean washing up the stairs, that I didn’t have time to think about the Liberator in my pocket. My plan was to set fire to it as soon as I could. But when I got home that night, Mauma and the baby were sleeping. Wesley was off playing somewhere, Daddy was out in the barn smoking with Daniel, and my curiosity got the best of me.

  I sat down at the table, pulled the candle closer, and smoothed out the wrinkled page. A piece by a Mister Garrison caught my eye.

  I look upon the Colonization scheme as inadequate in its design, injurious in its operation, and contrary to sound principles. I concede to them benevolence of purpose and expansiveness of heart, but they are laboring under the same delusion which swayed Saul of Tarsus, persecuting the blacks even unto a strange country and believing they are doing God’s service. It is agreeable to slaveholders because it is striving to remove a class of persons who they fear may stir up their slaves to rebellion.

  Miss Mary and Missus was always talking about the society for sending black people to Africa. They said it was because whites in America would never accept people like me as an equal. They said it was so that black people could have a better life, work for themselves and not for a master. But if Mister Garrison was right, Miss Mary wanted to send me away for her own benefit. Because she was afraid of me. I felt sick all the way to the middle of my heart. Nothing feels worse than to be betrayed by someone you think is your friend.

  It was quiet in the cabin, wasn’t any sound except Mauma’s breathing and the mewling of the baby. With nothing but the candle’s feeble glow to light up the darkness, I climbed the ladder to the loft. Folded up the Liberator till it was the size of my hand and hid it between the boards in the floor. I pulled my mattress over for good measure. Maybe we would be free one day, and maybe that piece of paper would be my very own kind of jack bag, protecting me from being sent across the ocean to a place I barely heard of.

  I knew I was taking a chance keeping it. None of the Custises ever came down to the quarters, but if Mauma found that newspaper, she would raise her very own kind of a revolution.

  Daddy and Wesley came in and I heard them taking off their shoes, getting ready for sleep.

  The night was clear. The sky was full of stars. I pictured Miss Mary out West looking out at those same bright stars and wishing she was home to Arlington and that it would never ever change. Which meant one thing. If her dream came true, then mine never could.

  15 | MARY

  Dust filtered through the window of the cramped stagecoach, making the baby sneeze. I took him onto my lap and wiped his face.

  Boo scowled at Robert as if his father were the cause of all his misery. “How much farther to Arlington, Papa? I miss Grandpa and Grandmama. I’m tired. I’m hungry.”

  “Almost there, son, and I am proud of you for being such a good traveler.” Robert placed an arm around Boo’s shoulders. “I bet George has made all our favorites for supper tonight.”

  After an eleven-day journey from St. Louis, we were almost home. I was soon to give birth to our fourth child, and I was anxious about i
t and weak with exhaustion.

  Our western adventure had been marred by a series of disasters great and small. Upon our arrival in St. Louis we discovered that the house Robert had so glowingly described wasn’t available after all. We were forced into temporary accommodations until the home of the explorer William Clark became available. I was overjoyed at the prospect of having space all to ourselves where my boys could give rein to their noisier impulses, but soon I discovered we would be sharing the Clark house with a Dr. Beaumont and his family.

  The steamship carrying the new furnishings we had bought in Cincinnati exploded en route, taking our lovely tables, chairs, sofas, and mirrors to the bottom of the river. The boys suffered in the mosquito-laden heat. Kitty came down with a fever. Then winter came and the river froze, trapping us in St. Louis, and we spent a lonely Christmas away from Arlington. St. Louis was a large place, with many agreeable people, but I was more than ready to come home.

  Late in the afternoon the stage entered the city. Daniel met us with our coach and saw to the transfer of our bags. Then at last we were home.

  I fairly ran from the carriage up the steps to the portico, where my mother waited to greet me with kisses and happy tears.

  “Where is Mee?” Leaving Robert and an exhausted Kitty to deal with the boys, I followed Mother inside.

  Papa was standing before the large painting of President Washington he had completed a few years earlier. I was shocked to see how bald and stooped he had grown in so short a time. Mee, in a faded pink calico dress, her hair a tumble of curls about her shoulders, was sitting atop his shoulders listening to his story of how a young George Washington had outwitted the British troops.

  “There they were, Mee, surrounded by thousands and thousands of British soldiers just waiting to pounce. It was getting dark, and your great-great-grandfather was worried. How could he possibly defeat such a large contingent?”

  “I don’t know, Grandpapa. What is a contingent?”

  The sound of her sweet voice after so long an absence nearly brought me to tears. I wanted to scoop her up and squeeze her but I refrained, for this was a magical moment between my father and his only granddaughter. I waited for him to finish his story, or to turn and see my mother and me waiting in the doorway.

  “A contingent is a group of people. In this case, Brits! And they wanted to defeat Washington so they could put down the rebellion.”

  “What is a rebellion?”

  “Never mind. Anyway, our hero ordered his soldiers to set a dozen campfires and keep them burning all night. The British soldiers saw the campfires and decided to wait until morning to attack. And very early the next day, before the sun came up, Washington and his troops stole away. The British readied their weapons and poured into the campsite where they had seen the fires burning the night before. And the whole camp was deserted . . . that is, it was empty. Washington and his men had tricked the British.”

  “That was a good trick.” Mee patted my father’s head. “Tell me another story, Grandpapa.”

  Mother stepped into the room. “Not now, Mee. I have the most wonderful surprise. Your mother and father are home.”

  Papa set Mee on her feet and opened his arms to me. “Mary Anna!”

  I rushed across the room to embrace him, then bent down to my daughter. “My precious child, how I have missed you. Come give your mama a kiss.”

  Mee hid behind Papa’s leg. “I don’t want to.”

  “Oh, of course you do, Mee,” Mother said. “We have been talking about this for two weeks. About how your mama and papa and your brothers were coming home.”

  Just then Robert and the boys came in. Robert kissed Mother’s cheek and shook Papa’s hand. Custis leapt into his grandfather’s arms.

  “Papa!” Mee ran to embrace her father. Robert scooped her up and covered her face with kisses until she giggled and squirmed to be set down again. She embraced Custis but ignored Rooney. And me. I could only stand there, exhausted, confused, and numb with disappointment.

  Mother whispered to Robert, and he bent down to our daughter. “Have you kissed your dear mother yet?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then hop to it, child. She has missed you. Maybe more than any of the rest of us.”

  My daughter marched over to where I stood and planted a dutiful kiss on my cheek. I reached for her, but she turned away and kissed Rooney, who only blinked in confusion. He had been too young when we left for St. Louis a year ago to remember he had a sister at home.

  “I have had a cold supper prepared,” Mother said, her voice so full of love and sympathy that I nearly lost my composure. “You must be famished.”

  We trooped into the dining room. Food was brought to the table, and while we ate, Robert regaled my parents with stories of our year out West. Custis told his grandparents about his friend Israel Beaumont and how they had spotted Indians paddling canoes on the river.

  Rooney began to fuss, and Kitty took him up to bed. When Mee’s eyes began to droop, Mother said, “Kitty should be back soon to take her up as well.”

  “I want to take her.” I got up and stood behind Mee’s chair. “Come along, Miss Lee. Time for bed.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  My patience deserted me. “It seems there is very little that you want to do this evening, Mary Custis.”

  Mee turned her dark eyes on Robert. “I want my papa to take me up to bed.”

  I was tired, heavy with child, plagued with rheumatic pains. I was ready to hand her over, but Robert fixed our daughter with his stern gaze. “You are being inexcusably rude, Mary Custis. Now go with your mother without any complaint.”

  She slid from her chair and ran ahead of me up the stairs. I helped her wash her face and hands and change into her nightgown. “Goodness, you have grown so much this barely fits you anymore.”

  “Grandmama says I am almost a little lady.”

  “That’s true. And ladies are always kind and polite to others. Especially to those who love them more than anything.”

  She climbed into bed. “Grandmama tells me stories at night.”

  “All right. What story would you like to hear?”

  “The one about the goats and the troll and the bridge.”

  “That’s one of my favorites too.” I tucked the coverlet about her shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed. “Once there were three goats that lived in a green grassy meadow not far from—”

  “That is not the way Grandmama says it.”

  “Well, this is my own version.”

  “The goats lived in a village with a shoemaker and a fisherman.”

  “Fine. In a village, then. And one day the goats decided to visit the farm that lay on the other side of a shining stream.”

  “It was not a stream. It was a river, and there was a bridge and it was made of stones and there was moss over the stones.”

  The long trip finally caught up with me. My head pounded and my stomach roiled. “Perhaps you ought to tell me the story, then. To refresh my memory.”

  Mee launched into the tale but soon drifted into sleep. I stood over her bed, studying her sweet face. In the glow of the candlelight, she looked so innocent in repose that I felt a piece of my heart crumble. I had the feeling that she would never forgive me for my absence regardless of the reason. That something precious had been irretrievably lost.

  I went across the hall to my bedroom to find Selina unpacking my trunks. Her face lit up when I dragged myself through the door.

  “Selina. I thought you’d have gone home by now.”

  “I saw you had come home and thought you would want your nightdress unpacked right away.”

  “I am done in. And Mee didn’t make life any easier this evening.”

  Selina fished my nightgown from the trunk. “She just needs to get used to you again is all.”

  “She is spoiled, I’m afraid.”

  “I can’t lie about that, Miss Mary. Your papa hardly let her out of his sight the whole time you were g
one. She’s used to being the center of attention.” Selina set my traveling case on the dresser. “You need anything else?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m so tired I could sleep for a week. But tell me, how is your family? How is Thornton Gray?”

  She grinned. “Same as always. Full of himself.”

  “Have you seen William Burke? I wrote to Mother about him, but she forgot to answer my questions.”

  “He hasn’t been around here in a long while. Mr. Custis sent William to help Mr. Nelson down at Romancoke.” Selina folded back the covers on the bed and fluffed the pillows. “Lawrence says William Burke likes a girl down there. Her name is Rosabella. He says she sings like an angel.”

  “I see.”

  “William Burke is in love, I reckon.”

  I couldn’t resist teasing her. “And what about you, Selina Norris? Are you in love?”

  She laughed and started for the door. “Good night, Miss Mary.”

  I lay in the darkness listening to the house settling for the night and thinking about William. Papa chose only his most able servants to assist the overseers. The shy, gangly twelve-year-old with a burning desire to read had become a man of some aptitude. A man burning to serve God. Such promise ought not to be wasted. But William was not mine, and as much as I wanted to see him go free, there was nothing I could do.

  16 | SELINA

  Mister Robert hadn’t been gone from Arlington no time before Miss Mary’s birthing room was cleaned and limed again and here come another baby into the world. It was the middle of June, the air warm and still. I was putting things away in the upstairs linen press when I heard the baby’s first cry. A few minutes later Nurse came out into the hall wiping her hands on a towel and said, “Miss Mary got her another girl. The child is strong, but they’s a bad curse on her.”

  “What kind of a curse?”