Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Gray

by Dorothy Love

  “What about Washington? He inherited everything. The least he can do is provide for his grandmother.”

  “People don’t always do as they should. And I am certain your aunt would much rather have you to nurse her than some stranger Washington might engage.”

  “I was hoping to take Selina with me to Aunt Nelly’s, but she can stay here to oversee the house.”

  “Selina is not able to do much work herself these days.”

  “I haven’t had a letter from her in some time. Is she ill?”

  “No. But another baby is on the way. I was certain she had written to you about it.”

  I digested this bit of news. Selina and Thornton were already the parents of two girls, Emma and Annice. We are both mothers now, Miss Mary, she had written after the birth of the first one.

  “Take Eliza,” Mother said. “I can spare her now that Life is older and her sisters are here to fuss over her.”

  The next morning I set out for Audley. As the carriage wound slowly along the narrow roads and up into the cool foothills, Eliza kept up a steady stream of chatter, filling me in on all the gossip from the quarters. Ham was worried that all of his hair was falling out, and Judah had made a concoction of sage, whiskey, and quinine to pour over his head.

  “It ain’t helped none, though, that I can see, Miss. His head still shiny as a baby’s bottom.” Eliza grinned, revealing a missing tooth. “Judah cured my canker sore, though. With blue violet tea.”

  “Eliza, you know that my father pays the doctor to visit when anyone in the quarters gets sick. You are not required to rely upon Judah’s home remedies.”

  “George in the kitchen? He swears Judah’s potions work better’n anything that doctor got. He had hisself a bad toothache awhile back, and her chickweed poultice fixed it right up.” Eliza looked up at me from beneath her red-checked bonnet. “You ever had any blue violet tea?”

  “Never.”

  “Well, let me tell you, Miss. It’s awful slimy goin’ down. But it do the trick.”

  We stopped for the night and set out again at dawn. At last we reached the road to Audley, and I willed Daniel to hurry. I was famished, and my hip ached after two days in the carriage.

  Eliza peered out the window. “This your aunt’s place?”

  “Yes. The house is up ahead. We will be there soon.”

  “What’s the matter with her, anyway?” Eliza asked, frowning. “Whatever it be, you should of brought Judah. She cures everybody at Arlington.” She sighed. “Mostly, anyway. She couldn’t cure Rose, though. But I don’t reckon nobody got a cure for—uh-oh.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “What was the matter with Rose?”

  Two dogs ran into the road, barking and nipping at the horses. Daniel halted the carriage in Aunt Nelly’s yard and jumped down to open the door. “We’re here, Miss Mary. You go on in. I’ll tote your trunks in for you.”

  I went in to find Flora waiting in the parlor. She crossed the room and clasped my arm. “Oh, Miss Mary. I am so glad you got here. Miss Eleanor been so poorly all day. I been tryin’ to do for her as best as I can, but she don’t want to eat a bite or stir from her bed.”

  “I’ll go up to her now. Could you get my girl Eliza settled? And perhaps make some tea?”

  “Yessum. I’ll see to it.”

  I climbed the stairs to Aunt Nelly’s room. It was the largest bedroom at Audley, light and spacious with tall windows that framed a view of the distant mountains. But today the curtains were closed, the lamps unlit, and the air thick with the smells of illness and food left too long on the tray.

  I went to the bed and bent over Aunt Nelly. “Auntie? It’s Mary.”

  She stirred and opened her eyes. “Mary dear. I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  “Of course I wanted to look after you.” I smoothed her damp gray tendrils off her forehead. “How long have you been like this?”

  “I don’t rightly remember. A few weeks, I suppose.”

  “What does the doctor say?”

  “Stomach ailments and old age. There is little to be done for the former, and nothing of course for the latter.”

  “Flora tells me you are refusing to eat. This must not go on if you expect to recover.”

  She sighed. “Sometimes I would rather go on to my heavenly reward. I am so alone here now without Lorenzo.”

  “Wash doesn’t visit?”

  “Now and then, but he spends most of his time with the farm manager going over the books.”

  “When was the last time you ate anything?”

  “Last evening, perhaps. Everything I eat makes me deathly sick.”

  “Well, I must find something you can tolerate. And you must get some fresh air.”

  But she had fallen asleep, her mouth slack, her thin, veined hands folded on the counterpane.

  I went downstairs.

  “I put your things in the room where Flora showed me,” Daniel said. “Anything else you need, Miss Mary, before I head on back home?”

  “No, nothing. Tell Mother I will write to her in a few days.”

  “Yessum. I surely will.” He turned to Eliza. “You take care of Miss Mary.”

  I went out to the kitchen to see what I could find for Aunt Nelly. A basket of root vegetables and half a roast chicken sat on the table. I made soup, ladled it up, and took it upstairs on a tray along with a slice of toasted bread and some apple butter.

  I parted the curtains and opened the window to let in the spring breeze. While the soup cooled, I helped Aunt Nelly to bathe and change into a clean nightshift. I brushed out her thin tufts of white hair and then drew my chair next to the bed.

  “Eat this soup now, and no arguments.”

  She ate a couple of spoonfuls. “Not bad for a woman who rarely cooks.”

  “I have been doing all of the cooking these last few years. The people of Baltimore look most unfavorably on those who keep servants. Regardless of how well they are treated. The city is rife with abolitionists these days.”

  “Yes, so said your dear mother in her letter. I imagine you feel the absence of your Selina most keenly.”

  “She has become indispensible in so many ways. But she is expecting her third child later this year.”

  “Is she? It seems only yesterday your mother wrote to me about her wedding.”

  I noticed with some satisfaction that Aunt Nelly had almost finished her soup. Perhaps loneliness was the greatest of her ailments. “It will be four years this December since Selina’s wedding.”

  “Time goes by too fast, Mary Anna.” Aunt Nelly picked up her knife, but her hand shook.

  “Here. Let me.” I spread some apple butter onto the bread. “Bon appétit.”

  She smiled. “It has been a long while since anyone has spoken French to me.”

  “I am no longer fluent, I’m afraid. Too many years teaching little children their alphabet and how to do sums.”

  “Your own children must be all about grown by now.”

  “Precious Life is five. Custis is eighteen.”

  “Your mother wrote that Custis is at West Point.”

  “Yes.”

  “Following in Robert’s footsteps.”

  “But I pray not to war. I couldn’t bear to have my son or my husband in harm’s way.”

  Aunt Nelly finished her toast and set down her knife. “I was hungrier than I thought. Your company is like a tonic to me, Mary. I see far too little of my family these days.”

  “A week or so of good nourishment and fresh air and you will be good as new.” I leaned down to kiss her withered cheek. “Would you mind if I retire early? The trip has made my rheumatism act up again.”

  “Of course not, my dear.”

  “Call if you need me. I am in Lorenzo’s old room.”

  I slept until the crowing of the rooster in the yard and the bright spring sunlight awakened me the next morning. I called for Eliza to bring water and towels for my morning ablutions. I had been too tired to unpack my trunks the p
revious evening, so I set her to shaking out my dresses and shawls and putting away my traveling case and umbrella.

  The smell of baking biscuits and coffee filled the air. Leaving Eliza to finish my unpacking, I went upstairs and peeked into Aunt Nelly’s room. She was still sleeping peacefully.

  Down in the kitchen, Flora was busy frying up ham and eggs. She bobbed her head when I came in and indicated the coffeepot on the stove. “Help yourself, Miss Mary. I ain’t had time to set the table yet.”

  “Don’t bother, Flora, if it’s only us. I would just as soon have my breakfast here.”

  She picked up her spatula and expertly flipped the eggs. “Suit yourself. They’s hot biscuits in the oven. What do you reckon Miss Eleanor gone eat this morning?”

  “A boiled egg and a biscuit. No butter, though. She liked the apple butter I gave her last night, so perhaps some more of that. Some weak tea if you have it.”

  “Yessum. I’ll see to it. You want to take it up there when it’s ready?”

  “Yes. She seems to be more interested in food when there is family news to distract her.”

  Half an hour later I knocked on Aunt Nelly’s door and went in to find her dressed and sitting in the wing chair by the window. “It’s a fine morning, Mary.”

  “Indeed. It’s good to see you out of bed and looking so chipper.”

  “I slept very well. Or as well as anyone my age can expect to. What did you bring me this morning?” She lifted the clean kitchen towel Flora had placed over the breakfast tray and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like boiled eggs. I never eat them.”

  “Well, I hope you can make an exception today, since Flora went to some trouble to fix them.”

  She sighed.

  “There is more apple butter. You like that. And there’s some lovely tea.”

  “Don’t cajole me. I am not a child.”

  “Of course you aren’t. I only meant to—”

  She pushed away the tray with such force that it toppled onto the floor. Apple butter splattered my shoes and the hem of the counterpane. The tea made a brown puddle on the carpet.

  Flora pounded up the stairs and rushed into the room. “Land’s sakes. What in the world’s going on in here?”

  “An accident,” I said quickly. “Will you bring a mop and—”

  Flora was not fooled. She glared at my aunt. “I’ll see to this mess. Won’t be the first time.”

  Aunt Nelly gazed out the window as if none of this had anything to do with her. Allowances must always be made for the old and the infirm, but my patience was at an end. I went outside to the neglected, overgrown garden. In the shed at the end of the gravel path I found tools and an old pair of gloves several sizes too big. Returning to the unruly flower beds, I weeded and hoed and snipped and pruned until the sun passed its zenith and blue shadows fell across the yard.

  “Forgive me, Mary.”

  I turned around to find Aunt Nelly standing beside my newly pruned bed of Bon Silene roses. Despite neglect, a few of the bushes were full of tiny buds that would flower when the weather warmed. I pulled off the oversized gloves and pushed my hair from my damp forehead. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I took a nap earlier. The day’s nearly gone, and I felt I should find you and apologize. You were only trying to help me this morning, and I was inexcusably rude.”

  I blotted perspiration from my face with the sleeve of my dress and leaned against my rake, the hours of exercise and solitude having restored my patience with her. “It must be hard when one is older to—”

  “Old age is no excuse for lack of manners. Will you sit with me awhile? It’s very pleasant on the porch just now, and I have asked Flora to bring us some tea and biscuits.” Her faded eyes held a measure of the old mischief I remembered from my childhood. “I missed my breakfast this morning, and now I’m starving.”

  Leaving the pile of weeds for the yard man to clear away, I put away the garden tools and joined her on the porch. The cool breeze wafted down from the mountains, bringing with it the smells of new grass and wild plums.

  Flora arrived with the tea tray. Without uttering a word, she set it down and marched back inside.

  “Flora is still angry with me.” Aunt Nelly poured tea and nibbled on a biscuit. “She and Henry have both become such a trial of late that I would free them if I could. But of course they belong to Wash, and my grandson won’t listen to a single thing I say. On any topic.”

  I knew how she felt. To be a woman was to be under the absolute control of fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, or uncles, powerless to manage one’s own money or to make decisions about anything. Of course it wasn’t the same as slavery, but womanhood was its own kind of bondage.

  “Everyone is having trouble with servants these days,” I said. “The Northern agitators are putting notions into their heads. I’m for freeing every last one of them, as soon as they are equipped to make a decent life for themselves.”

  “Your mother wrote to me that her maid ran off.”

  “Yes. After we went to the trouble of holding a wedding celebration for her.” I took a sip of my tea. “I had no idea Rose was not content. But it seems the better they are treated, the less loyal they become.”

  Aunt Nelly munched on a biscuit.

  “We’ve not heard a word from them since. Neither of them had any idea how to survive without Papa’s protection. I do wonder if they are even still alive.”

  Aunt Nelly stirred sugar into her tea. “Such a troublesome business. Tell me, how is your cousin Markie? And those brothers of hers? I never hear much from that sweet girl anymore.”

  “I had a letter from her just before I left Baltimore. She is home from a trip to New York with Orton. She didn’t mention Laurence, but I assume he is well. It seems she and Orton had quite an exciting time. Orton wrote to Agnes about it. Her first letter from a boy pleased her a great deal.”

  “Perhaps romance will bloom one day.”

  “I hope so. Orton is a fine boy. Of course they are much too young right now to think of romance.”

  “Time will pass quickly enough.” Aunt Nelly sighed. “I feel terrible for Markie. I’m not sure I could have taken over as head of my family when I was her age. I do hope she was able to have fun in New York.”

  “I expect she will turn up at Arlington sometime this summer, and then I shall hear more of her adventures firsthand.”

  “How I would love to hear all the news from Arlington in person. Letters are lovely, but they are no substitute for a real visit.”

  “You know you are welcome at any time. Mother would love having you visit.”

  “Yes, but the trip would be too tiring for me now. And there would be no one here to mind the servants. But as the years go by I do miss my dear old Tub more than I can say.”

  I laughed at the mention of Papa’s childhood nickname. “You had better not let him hear you call him that. He is quite sensitive about it. Not even Mother calls him Tub.”

  “She could get away with it. I remember when they were first married. She was just sixteen years old and suddenly the mistress of a large house. Oh, she was a shy little thing, but she has managed her home admirably. He still adores her, you know.”

  I thought then of the tense and strange conversation that had taken place in the parlor the day Papa announced the end of the Mexican War. “Sometimes I feel there is something not quite right between them. Something they are keeping from me. In her unguarded moments Mother seems terribly sad. But she won’t tell me anything.”

  “Every married couple has their private hurts and disappointments.” Aunt Nelly patted my hand. “Your mother lost all of her children in infancy. Except you. That is a terrible sadness no woman ever overcomes.”

  “I suppose not. But I don’t think that’s it. I think it has something to do with Papa.”

  “You are imagining things.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Leave it alone, Mary Anna.” Aunt Nelly’s tone was suddenly as chil
ly as the breeze coming off the mountain. She got to her feet, rattling the empty cups on the tray. “It’s getting cold. I’m going in.”

  26 | SELINA

  Miss Mary said I was not welcome in Baltimore and she would have to do without me, but it was just as well since my nature stopped shortly after Thornton and I got married and then my Emma was born. Judah rubbed my belly with a balm of oils, Gilead buds, leeks, and horseradish, and Mauma put a knife under my bed to cut the pain, but nothing helped. Birthing a baby is the hardest work I have ever done, and in my opinion it never gets easier just because you know what to expect.

  I wrote to Miss Mary after Emma’s birth and again when Annice came along, but by the time number three got here it didn’t seem like another one was any news, and I was too busy for letters anyway.

  Now it was almost Christmas again. The air had turned cold and the trees were bare. Mauma was looking after my children and I was back at the house doing what I always do, keeping things clean and orderly and helping Missus with her holiday plans. The Lees and their brood were coming home from Baltimore, so there was the usual decorating of the parlor with greens and candles and the laying of the Yule log in the parlor fireplace. Thornton had gone out early with Ephraim to find mistletoe, and they came back with enough for the house and the cabins in the quarters.

  Thornton held a sprig of it over my head and winked. “Give me a kiss, little mama.”

  I swatted away his hand. “It was too many kisses made me a mama in the first place. I don’t need another child, thank you anyway. This cabin is already full to bursting.”

  He laughed. “Ain’t we got us a fine family?”

  “Selina?” Ephraim stood in our open doorway, his arms full of fresh greens that gave off the sweetest clean smell. It had started to snow. White flakes covered his hat and shoulders. “Missus asking for you.”

  I bundled myself up and stepped out into the bitter cold, and Ephraim crossed the yard with me. We went in the back door and along the corridor to the parlor. We passed the schoolroom, where the tutor, Miss Poor, was lecturing Miss Annie and Miss Agnes about something or other. Annie was paying attention, writing in her notebook, but Miss Agnes was watching the snow come down. She gave me a little wave as I went by.