by Dorothy Love
Missus looked up from the pile of candles she was arranging on the mantel. “Oh, good, Ephraim. Those look lovely. Fetch the ladder and put those in the archway.”
“Yessum. Where you want this mistletoe?”
“Where it is most likely to be useful, I suppose.”
He laughed and so did she.
It did my heart good to see Missus so happy. Lately she had been sick as a kitten and moping around, even though the fact that Miss Mary and her family were coming home was usually news that perked her up considerably.
“What can I do for you, Missus?” I handed her another candle, which she set on the mantel.
“Mister Custis has tracked in mud into the front hallway.”
“I’ll see to it.”
“The silver chocolate service needs polishing.” She looked out the window where the snow was blowing sideways across the frozen ground. “If this snow keeps up for a day or two we shall have a fine day for skating and sledding. After being out of doors the children will want their warm cocoa.”
“When they supposed to get here?”
“Tomorrow. Though I won’t be surprised if they are delayed by the weather. Mr. Custis says the river is already beginning to freeze.”
George came in carrying a big pot of soup. “Gettin’ so cold out there, Missus, I figured you and the mister might want something hot to warm your bones.”
“Yes, George, thank you. Please leave it on the sideboard.”
“Yessum.”
“Were you able to get the mincemeat for the Christmas pies?”
“Yessum. I already got the crusts made and ready for the oven onct Miss Mary and her fam’bly gets here.”
Missus finished placing the candles and stood back to admire her efforts. “There. I always think Arlington looks its best at Christmastime.”
We all scattered to do what she told us. I cleaned up the mess Mister Custis left in the entry hall and set to work on the silver chocolate service. It took me forty forevers to polish the pitcher, which had curlicues and etchings all over that had to be scrubbed with a brush dipped in the polish, and then there was a dozen cups with tiny handles that made them hard to clean. When that was done I started on my regular chores of mopping and polishing and making the bedrooms ready for six more people.
Would have been even more folks to prepare for excepting that young Mister Custis Lee was stuck at West Point learning soldiering like his papa before him and wasn’t allowed to come home. It made me sad to think of him up there with none of his kin to say Merry Christmas to on Christmas morning. And Daughter, who knew whether she would turn up? That girl acted like she was not even a member of her family. She was always off to visit other folks, and once in a blue moon she would swoop into Arlington with her trunks and hatboxes and birdcages and scrapbooks and start demanding this and that. I hated to say it because she was Miss Mary’s firstborn daughter, but I hoped she wouldn’t turn up and spoil the happy time the rest of the children had anytime they were all together.
I finished up and put on my coat. It was almost dark by the time I headed back to the cabin. My skirts dragged through snow that was nearly knee-deep and soft as powder. The wind tore at my cloak and whistled in the spaces between the cabins scattered along the path.
“Selina!”
I stopped in my tracks. “Who is that?”
“Louisa Bingham.”
“What is it? Your man sick again? I’m all out of poultices, if that’s what you’re after. You got to see Judah if you need—”
“We all fine.” Louisa pulled me into the space between two cabins where the snow had piled into a drift. My feet were completely wet and stinging with the cold. “Austin come back from town this afternoon with a package for you.”
“A package? Who from?”
“Now, how would I know that? He said some man at the market give it to him and said it was from a friend.” She pushed a small flat box into my hand. “I got to go. My babies is hungry.”
I slipped the package into my pocket and went home. Mauma was at my cabin and had already fed the two oldest girls. Mercifully they were asleep and the fire was burning in the grate. I got out of my wet clothes, and Mauma got a towel and rubbed my feet until the feeling came back into my toes.
The baby began to fuss, and I opened my dress to let her nurse. “Where’s Thornton?”
“Gone off with Wesley to find us a Christmas tree.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Thornton Gray worse than a child when it comes to Christmas.” Mauma got to her feet and put on her coat and the pair of old men’s boots Missus had given her last year. “I ought to go and see about your daddy’s supper.”
She went out into the cold. The baby fell asleep, and I put her down beside her sisters. I stirred the pot of beans Mauma had left simmering on the stove and set the table. Then I remembered the package still in my coat pocket.
I got it and took it close to the fire. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a piece of twine that had gone black from so much handling. I tore it open, and a square of folded tissue fell out. I opened it, and there was nothing but a single stem of dried flowers.
Pennyroyal.
It had to be a message from Rose. I figured the pennyroyal was her way of saying she had made it to freedom. Maybe it was meant to make me sorry I hadn’t helped her in her hour of need, or maybe it was meant to make me feel stupid for not trying to get away myself. I turned the box toward the firelight to see if there was writing inside it somewhere, but there was nothing. I wondered where it had started out from. New York maybe—if she had found Lily and Cassie. Or maybe she was in Baltimore where folks seemed willing to help slaves wanting to run.
I heard Thornton and Wesley coming back. I threw the box and all into the fire and watched the edges blacken and curl. Thornton brought the tree inside. Next day we put on some bits of ribbon and sprigs of holly and the bird’s nest I had found years before, walking out from church one night. It was falling apart, but you could still tell it was a nest and that babies had been born in it. I couldn’t say why I had kept it all those years. I only knew I wasn’t ready to let it go.
The next morning we went up to the house to call Christmas gift. It seemed strange not to have Rose and Randall there among the other families—the Binghams and Dotsons and Derricks. Daddy wasn’t feeling well and Mauma stayed home to tend to him, but Wesley and my sister Mary were there. Wesley was a grown man now, nineteen years old and our daddy made over, with the same long, narrow Norris face and wiry build. Too old for toys. Missus gave him new knitted socks and a flannel shirt, and he barely said boo to her about it. Just nodded his head and took off down the path to the quarters.
After Misssus and the Lees finished giving us our presents, Thornton took the children home and I stayed to help Missus with tidying the house. She and the Lees dressed up in their Christmas finery, the colonel in his uniform, and off they went to church. In the afternoon they came back, laughing and teasing one another and tracking snow into the entry again. George had made them their usual feast. More cleaning up after that. By the time I finished putting everything away, the house had grown quiet and the winter light was almost gone.
I was in the back hall putting on my boots and coat when Miss Mary came in munching on a cookie that smelled like citrus and nutmeg. She had changed out of her church clothes and into an old lavender dress with a rip in one sleeve and the hem falling down.
“Selina.” She stepped over a pile of boots and mittens the children had left and brushed her fingers together to get the crumbs off. “You startled me. I thought you would be gone by now.”
“I’m just going.” I glanced at her dress. “You ought to let me put up that hem, Miss Mary, before you trip over it.”
“You look too tired for sewing. But I don’t wonder at it. My children are enough trouble to make a preacher swear.”
We both laughed.
She said, “Is Thornton at home?”
“Yes. Watching my childr
en.”
She grabbed my arm, her brown eyes snapping with mischief. “Let’s play hooky.”
“What?”
“Hooky. It’s a new word I learned from Rooney. Apparently the boys at school use the term to describe skipping their classes. I think you and I deserve to shed our responsibilities for a while.”
She grabbed Mister Custis’s old hunting coat from the bench against the wall. “Let’s go sledding.”
“Now?”
“Why not? We’ve a little time before it’s truly dark.”
I couldn’t think of what to say.
“Have you ever gone sledding?”
“Not since Mauma took me when I was little.”
“Come on, then.”
We went out the back door and across the yard to where the children had left a sled. Miss Mary grabbed the rope and we trudged up the snowy hill in the cold, our breath making puffs of fog in the air.
At the top of the hill, we stopped and looked up at the sky. A single star winked down at us, golden and bright. Purple shadows colored the drifts of snow. I could see our footprints leading back to the house. It was a pretty scene, like an illustration in a book.
“Ready?” Miss Mary eased herself onto the sled. She scooted to the back to make room for me. I climbed on and tucked my skirts around me. She pushed off and then we were flying, bucking and bumping over the snow, the two of us helpless with laughter as the sled gathered speed and the snow flew into our faces. It was as perfect a moment as I ever had since my wedding day. We weren’t mistress and slave then. We were just friends. Mary and Selina.
When we got to the bottom and slid to a stop, Miss Mary said, “Shall we go again?”
I could have stayed out there all night, but Thornton was waiting for me at home, the baby needed to be fed, and I had started to shiver in my damp clothes. And Miss Mary had no business being out in the night air, which was sure to make her bones ache even worse.
I got off the sled and brushed the snow out of my hair. “I got to go. And I expect Colonel Lee is looking for you by now.”
“I suppose you’re right. If not my husband, then at least one of the children needs something.” Miss Mary leaned the sled against the side of the shed, her quick breaths clouding the air. “I do love them all—desperately—but they are a noisy set and sometimes their demands are too much. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do. But I reckon all mothers feel that way from time to time.”
She pulled something from her pocket. “I’ve been saving this for you.”
It was ten dollars. More money than I had ever seen in my life.
“For your children,” she said. “For their future.”
I thought about Rose then, about how she had run off and risked punishment rather than bring a baby into slavery. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Miss Mary about the pennyroyal, but for some reason I held back. It would be some time before I understood why, on that night of purple shadows and bright stars, I had kept silent.
27 | MARY
April 12, 1853
Mrs. MC Lee
Dear Madam,
It has been so many years since I had the chance to greet you that you may not remember me, as I have spent most of my time at White House, a very pleasant place to live that has many advantages to other places about there. I have also spent much time at Romancoke, attending to business for Mr. Nelson when he was too sick to go out. I was but a boy of twelve when you commenced my lessons in the schoolroom at Arlington, and it comes as a surprise to myself when I remember that I am thirty-four years old now and married, with four children of my own.
I had hoped to see you at Arlington at Christmas, but Selina told me Colonel Lee is the superintendent at West Point now, and you were there for much of the season.
I am writing because Rosabella and I wish to take our children to Liberia to start over in freedom. I hear there is a ship leaving late in the fall, and if your father will give us our freedom we mean to be aboard when it sets sail. I asked him about this at Christmas but he seemed to be thinking about other things and never did say whether he would even think about it. Mrs. Lee, I hope you will intervene as I am very anxious to study for the ministry at the seminary in Monrovia. I still have the Bible you gave me when I was sixteen, but it is quite worn out from daily reading.
Your humble servant, Wm. Custis Burke
William’s letter arrived on Friday, but I was too busy boxing up books and clothes to send to the girls, who were at Arlington with Papa and Mother, to read it. Both Rob and Life were suffering from coughs made worse by the raw April weather, and on this gray, rainy Sunday I stayed home with them while Robert went off to church. It was one of many times I felt torn between allegiance to my husband and the responsibilities of motherhood.
Robert was not happy with his duties at West Point. The endless meetings, the petty politics, and the disagreeable climate added up to a daily misery for him, which I tried my best to assuage. He wanted me by his side whenever possible, but this morning he had encouraged me to look after the children, promising a long afternoon just for the two of us.
I was eager to share William’s letter with him in hopes he could advise me on the best argument to use with my father. William had earned his chance at a better life, but convincing Papa to relinquish ownership of six of his servants would not be easy, even with Mother on my side.
“Mrs. Lee, I brought you some tea.” Eliza glided into the room and set the tea tray on the table beneath the window. From there I had a view of the barracks and the Hudson River, now shrouded in gray mist. “You need anything else, Missus?”
Her voice sounded strained. “Eliza, are you all right?”
“Yessum. Just tired is all. Miss Mildred had herself a bad coughing fit before daylight this morning, and it took me some time to get her quiet.”
“Oh, I know it. Rob had a restless night too. Thankfully, they are sleeping now.” I poured the tea. “I suppose that new cough syrup the doctor sent over is finally working.”
“What those babies need is some of Judah’s slippery elm tea, that’s what.”
“Mother is coming for a visit next month. If the children are not completely cured by then, I’ll ask her to bring some.”
Through the window I watched Robert cross the yard and unlatch the gate.
“Colonel Lee is home, Eliza. Would you bring another cup? I’m sure he’s chilled to the bone after walking in this weather.”
“Yessum. I’ll be right back.”
She left, and Robert came into the hallway. I heard him removing his wet things.
“Mary?”
“In the parlor.”
He paused in the doorway, and I could sense that something was wrong. He took from his pocket a telegram and handed it to me. “Brace yourself, my dear.”
Papa’s message was as terse as it was urgent. Mother was gravely ill and I was wanted at home.
“Don’t worry about Rob and Life,” Robert said. “Eliza and I can manage.”
I couldn’t seem to move my feet.
Eliza returned with the teacup but there was no time to waste.
I climbed the stairs and tossed some clothes into my trunk. I looked in on my sleeping children and kissed them good-bye. Robert sent for a coach and driver and accompanied me to the train station.
“Try not to worry, Molly.” He kissed my cheek and handed me into the train car. “Send word on her condition as soon as you can.”
I waved to him from the window as the train chugged toward Washington.
On Tuesday, rumpled, gritty-eyed, and sick with worry, I arrived home and dropped my bags in the entry hall. The house seemed strangely quiet. I called for my father, but it was Agnes who rushed to greet me.
“Mama, I don’t have a grandmama anymore!”
Papa emerged from the parlor, looking as unkempt and bleary-eyed as I. He shuffled toward me, arms outstretched. “Mary Anna, your mother has gone. I do not know what to do.”
“This
is so sudden, I can’t believe it. What happened?”
“On Thursday last she complained of a headache, and the doctor came and said it was nothing serious.” Papa rubbed at his eyes. “But the next day she was worse, and he gave us little hope for her recovery.”
“We were with her, Mama.” Agnes leaned her head on my shoulder. “Annie and I both. We were on the bed with her and she told us not to cry. We said the Lord’s Prayer with her and then she left us.”
“I’m sorry you had to endure that without me or your papa.”
Agnes sniffed. “I know she’s in heaven now, but she is the first person who has been taken from me, and it seems so hard.”
Selina came in, her face so full of sorrow that I nearly lost my composure.
“Miss Mary? I heard you had arrived. George is making you all some breakfast. It’s just about done.”
“All right.”
Selina fumbled for her handkerchief. “I sure am sorry. The missus was always good to me.”
“Thank you, Selina.”
Presently, Charles came in, and I could see that he had been crying too. “Miss Mary, they’s some breakfast on the table if you feel like eating.”
I didn’t want a bite, but Papa was in no condition to do anything. I would need my strength to make the necessary decisions and to weather the heartache ahead. I sent Agnes to fetch her sister, and we ate in sorrowful silence.
“If Grandmama were here we’d have morning prayers now,” Annie said when our meal was finished.
“And so we shall.” I took Mother’s bell from its place on the sideboard and walked out into the warm April sunshine to summon the servants, just as my mother had done every morning of her life. I read a few verses while the servants wept quietly and birds trilled in the garden outside the window.
Afterward I found Papa sitting alone in his studio. “We must choose a spot for her grave.”
He slumped in his chair. “I cannot do it. You must find the proper place for her, Mary.”
I walked down the slope toward the river to a spot in sight of the gardens Mother had so loved. I sensed Selina’s presence before she spoke.
