by Lisa Grace
He went to stand in front of the fireplace, “Well, this has worked out rather well. Now there is no need to get rid of one wife to get an heir through another,” He smiled at Tommie Lynn like that was a fine joke, but Tommie Lynn could see the truth in his eyes. He would have murdered his wife to get an heir.
“How much?” he said, as he pulled a ledger with his accounts from the drawer in his desk. How much for the boy and your silence? And let me make this clear, if I hear one rumor or if you come back thinking you can get more money, I will see you depart this earthly veil earlier than your maker may have planned. I am a man of war and I am capable of protecting my family and my honor. I will pay one hundred dollars in grateful appreciation- for pulling my delicate wife and son safely through the shadow of death.”
Major Rivers smiled coldly up at Tommie Lynn and then back down as he wrote the check. He escorted her out of the drawing room and said again loudly, “Please go up and see that Mrs. Rivers understands the way to care for the babe tonight and tomorrow we will make sure Stanton the Second has a proper nursemaid to help Elizabeth.”
***
Later as Tommie Lynn waited for the groomsman to pull the carriage to the back to take her home, she found she was glad to be leaving. She had learned something new. Tommie Lynn would not want to be in Mrs. Rivers’ shoes. Being rich didn’t mean you were going to live a long happy life. She’d been in shock when Major Rivers mentioned he was not above killing his wife to have an heir.
The Major must have taken advantage of white women too, since he’d not even bothered to ask who was the baby’s mother. What a vile man. Maybe someday she could find a way to use this information. Not today. A hundred dollars would see her through for years. She still had to hurry back and take care of Grace. She would need to clean her up and see her safely home. If she mourned the loss of this baby it would only seem natural to those who would know her baby had died. She needed to bury a box in her yard to make it believable. She had a large stone she could use as a place marker.
Grace was young. She could marry and have another. It was for the best. As the Major’s son the boy would never want for things he couldn’t have. From slave to royalty, that boy was blessed. Tommie Lynn kept telling herself these things on her ride home to Grace. But Tommie Lynn shivered every time she thought of the dark soul hiding behind the Major’s evil smile.
***
When Tommie Lynn opened the door without the baby, Grace started to cry again, but this time not silently. She had to let the pain out, the rage, and the anger. Sometime before dawn she fell into a restless nightmare-filled sleep where she looked for her lost baby and couldn’t find him. The next morning, Bethany came knocking on the door, all smiles. When she looked at Tommie Lynn’s and Grace’s face, she realized today was not a happy day. She spoke privately to Tommie Lynn who told her the baby girl had died and they had buried her last night. Bethany made arrangements for Grace to stay one more night. Bethany wanted time to spread the word there was no baby, so Grace would not have to live the sadness over and over if people asked. An extra day would give Bethany the time to tell everyone.
She went out and sent a letter through the post to tell Mrs. Mary and Caroline about the baby dying. She went to Grace’s room and took out the bassinet and the baby clothes. She took them back into the attic. Maybe someday in the future Grace could use them.
She then sat down to contemplate how to help Grace through this season of sadness.
Mrs. Tommie Lynn came back from the Major’s and took care of Grace for the next two days only leaving to cash the check the Major had given her and to do a little shopping. That night she made a nice beef bone with peas, which took all day to cook. She served Grace in bed just like a queen. She made Grace real sweet tea which she preferred. It never crossed Tommie Lynn’s mind that maybe she was doing all this out of guilt. She had made up her mind that Grace could not keep the baby and while she felt sorry for her, Tommie Lynn also felt Grace was young. She could marry and have more babies. Dark ones she could keep. Tommie Lynn never told Grace that she had received the one hundred dollars for selling her baby. Bethany came by after the two days were over and brought her a nearly new black dress to wear, with a small veil. Grace was grateful for this bit of kindness. She was not ready to face the world. Bethany took her gently by the arm and walked her home. When they arrived, she saw the black ribbon on the front door and again felt herself start to cry at this memorial for her loss. Only family would put a ribbon on the door. The symbolism of Grace being family touched her. They went around to the back door and Bethany sat her at the kitchen table. Bethany poured her a cup of the flower tea and left her alone while she went upstairs to check on Mrs. Becca. A few minutes later she heard Bethany obviously helping Mrs. Becca down the stairs. Mrs Becca had Bethany help her over to Grace and then held out her arms, “I am so sorry my dear. God will be watching over her now.”
She wrapped Grace in a hug. Grace knew this was true even though her son was very much alive. Mrs. Becca said, “I watched my dear husband pass away and then my poor Mary’s husband, John, leave this earth also. I am so sorry that this sadness has touched you.”
She just held onto Grace and gently rocked her sideways as she tried to comfort her. Grace was glad to be in this house of women. Strong women who took the worst that life could give and yet made a new life, never giving up the hope and will for a less painful tomorrow. She would watch her son from afar and pray for his future. Maybe his life would be a turning point toward happiness. That would be enough for her.
***
A few weeks later, Tommie Lynn thought it best that someone knew their secret. The Major was not a man to have a secret about. She sent a note requesting Grace visit her.
When Grace came, Mrs. Tommie Lynn inquired, “After meeting that man, it’s for the best that someone knows our secret, Grace. Whom can we trust?”
Grace sat silently, thinking. “I have one friend. An unlikely friend. Mrs. Louisa Armistead.”
“Grace, can Mrs. Armistead keep a secret?” Tommie Lynn asked.
“Yes Ma’am. She would never tell, unless a bad thing happens to me.”
“All right, we will trust her to keep the secret.”
So Tommie Lynn sat Grace down, took out her writing quill and paper to write Grace’s friend, Mrs. Armistead. The truth poured out onto the paper.
April 29th, 1814
Dear Louisa,
I have been learning the lessons you have been kind enough to send me. I had Mrs. Tommie Lynn a birthing lady, help me with the writing on this one which is why the spelling is much better. I don’t know if I can remember everything you are trying to teach me, but I do appreciate your help so much. I have had my childe as you might expect. He came early on April 2nd . I am so sad on what I must share with you next.
Mrs. Tommie Lynn and I kept quiet about the birth. Please tell everyone the baby died. You can even tell them it was a girl. Mrs. Mary and Miss Caroline were gone visiting family not expecting the baby to come so soon. As soon as my pains started I went to Mrs. Tommie Lynn's as she has birthed many babies. I am crying so it is hard for me to tell her what to write. The tragedy for me is the baby looks white. He is beautiful with light brown eyes and brown hair. I do not know how it happened. There is nothing of me in him. Maybe because I prayed so hard to God not to have this baby, that he is taking him from me now.
Mrs. Tommie Lynn took the baby in the wee hours, she made me tell who the father was. Even Miss Mary, Caroline and Rebecca here do not know. She took my baby to that man’s house so he could raise him as his own. Mrs. Tommie Lynn said he was glad to have the boy as he has no heirs, his wife being barren. They both thought it a miracle of God. I don’t know why my life has to be so sad. I miss him so already. Since you know that man so well and move in the same peoples, please tell me how my boy is doing.
I know he better off in that house growing up rich and educated like a gentleman. But right now I don’t even know his name. I can’t
talk anymore, I am too sad. They all think it’s cause my baby died. Only you, Mrs. Tommie Lynn, that family, and I know the truth.
God bless you.
Grace Wisher
As soon as they finished composing the letter, there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Tommie Lynn opened it to find a young boy on the doorstep. “My Ma’s told me to come and fetch you. It’s her time! She’s screaming something terrible.” The young boy looked worried.
Mrs. Tommie Lynn turned to Grace, “I’ll be back. The letter will have to wait.”
Grace nodded. She sealed the letter and put it in an envelope. She put some clothes on, and went out. Grace took the letter and went directly to drop it in the post. She didn’t trust Tommie Lynn anymore. You can’t trust someone who takes your baby away. Grace was afraid Tommie Lynn would read the letter again and change her mind, then Louisa would never get it.
She had to have one person she trusted know the truth. She had a son. A son who would now be raised with all the privilege and advantages she never did have. Grace spent the next few hours deep in prayer asking for peace for herself and happiness for her son.
Tommie Lynn felt better that someone rich like Louisa Armistead knew about Grace’s baby. Mr. Rivers was a violent man and they might need someone who knew the truth. Someone who could hold him in check.
***
Major Rivers couldn’t believe his stroke of luck. A son! A healthy strapping beautiful boy. He could even see the same nose and light colored brown hair he’d had his whole life. Catching women unawares had always been something of a sport for him and something he knew all real men did. He never imagined it would be an answer to his prayers. The last few weeks he had been entertaining the idea of an untimely death for Elizabeth to open the way for getting a legitimate heir, but now it had fallen into his lap. It also affirmed that the matter of Elizabeth’s failure to get with child was her problem and not a matter of his virility. It never dawned on him to ask which conquest his son was from because frankly he didn’t care. He never gave them a second thought once his urges were quelled.
The house filled up with the sound of Stanton the Second’s squalls of hunger and the ladies of the house wasted no time in finding a proper nursemaid to feed the lusty boy. Elizabeth got out of bed, the first time in weeks, and bustled around happily changing one of the rooms into a nursery and another into a playroom for his son. Her cheeks were flushed with health and happiness. Stanton was an answer to her prayers and now that she had her son, she would go about the business of raising him with all her heart. No one questioned whether he was their son. The servants saw the blood and afterbirth and they could scarcely miss how poorly Elizabeth was feeling prior to the birth. A rough unknown pregnancy explained everything. Life went on for the next few years in the household happily, busily, and peacefully. The war kept the Major busy with his pursuits, until the one person who could threaten Major Rivers carefully constructed life, did just that.
*
***
*
Chapter 7 - Early Morning, August 24th, 1814
For the last four and half months Grace worked through her sorrow. Even stitches, unbalanced emotions and prayers. Rumors of the fighting some battles lost, some won, made her worry for her son. The British had been keeping a line of ships to enforce their trade embargo against the United States. Rumors were flying that British troops had landed and been spotted marching toward Washington. All Grace could do was sew and pray.
She no longer thought about running. She wanted to stay close. She thought up plans on how she could smuggle her son to keep him safe against the British. She had stopped praying for the Major to be killed. She knew deep down that the Major would do everything to keep her son, his son—safe. Her son was more important than her hate. God was using the person she hated most in the world to keep her son safe. Why had God put her in this position? Hadn’t she suffered enough? Oddly, letting go of her hate and praying for the Major’s safety so he could guard her son, gave her comfort. That man would resort to murder to keep her son safe. That was comforting, too.
***
There was shouting out in the streets. Grace put down her sewing and went out through the kitchen door. She saw Mrs. Bethany talking to one of the young boys and giving him a coin. He nodded and ran off as Mrs. Bethany walked back to meet Grace in the yard.
“What’s happening Mrs. Bethany?” Grace asked. The street was busy with gathering groups of men and young boys shouting.
“The British Navy ships have just passed the port way out at sea. An incoming merchant ship outraced them in. They appear to be heading further north. Once they land the fighting could come here or to Washington. We must prepare. By tomorrow the British will be on our shores. We will see fighting in the next two days. I must run in and tell Mrs. Pickersgill!”
Grace hurried after Mrs. Bethany back into the house. She sat back down in the parlor to finish her sewing. A few minutes later, Mrs. Pickersgill called her into her room.
“I’m sorry Grace, but with all the men arming themselves preparing for war, I have no choice.”
“Ma’am?”
This order of flags is done for the troops guarding the capital. You must deliver them to General Winder or his troops. Take them in the direction of the White House immediately. If you don’t run into the troops on the way, someone there will direct you to where you must go. You must deliver them before the British get there. I am sending you on our cart with the Devlin boy to drive. Hurry! Go now.”
Grace took the heavy bundle and placed it in a laundry basket, which she lifted into the back of the cart. She took her spare underskirt that was drying on the line and laid it on top, along with an apron. And a pair of Mrs. Bethany’s under things. She could say she was delivering clean lady’s laundry if they were stopped by soldiers. Josh, the Devlin boy, was busy harnessing one of the older horses to pull the cart. “I’ll be right back,” Grace said to the boy.
She went down into the cellar and dug in the box of Mr. Pickersgill’s things. The pistol. She held it in her hand feeling its cold weight. At night in her room, she’d sat up reinforcing the stitching on a new pocket she’d sewn into her dress, hidden in the folds, to conceal the weapon. She checked to make sure it was loaded then slid it in. She took the bag of extra shots and placed it in another hidden pocket. If she had to fight, she would. Not for her country, but for herself and her son.
Grace climbed upon the cart to sit next to the boy who was a few years younger than her. “How long do you think before we get to the White House or see the troops?”
“I’ll go as fast as we can. It may be a bumpy ride. I’m thinking we’ll be there before supper time. Wouldn’t it be exciting to meet the President? Or see some fighting?” Josh could barely contain his excitement. A chance to head into the excitement. An important delivery for the troops.
“Just go fast. I don’t want to run into any troops.”
Josh laughed at Grace’s fear.
They ran into militia along the way, but no sign of General Winder’s troops. All the way into the city of Washington they heard shooting in the distance.
Josh asked, “Should we head toward the shooting? Bound to be the General’s troops there.”
Grace shook her head no. “Mrs. Pickersgill said to go to the White House. That’s where we’re heading. I’m sure some troops are there.”
A fine carriage passed them with a fancy lady inside accompanied by well-dressed men on horses.
“I think that may be Mrs. Madison, the President’s wife. I saw a drawing of her once.” Josh said.
Grace’s stomach was rolling low with the rhythm of the cart. If the lady was leaving her house, they may run into fighting soon. The gunfire didn’t sound far away anymore, and Grace could make out the smell of smoke.
“Look!” Off in the distance behind them, dark smoke was billowing. Something big like a building had been lit on fire.
“Please hurry, Josh,” Grace said her anxiety rising every minu
te. The horse pulled their cart many blocks down Pennsylvania Avenue until they were directly in front of the White House.
Josh hopped out. “I’ll find some of the servants around back. You go knock at the front Grace, in case no one’s around back.”
Grace walked up the steps. It looked deserted. No one was present to stop her. Shots echoed down the street from the fighting just a few blocks away as she went to the door and knocked. She thought she heard someone yell for her to come in, so she did. She walked back until she came across a boy of her coloring. He might have been slightly older than her. He was wearing nice clothes and was high on a ladder using a tool to loosen a painting from the wall.
“Can I help you?” he said not stopping in his work.
Grace curtsied out of habit all though the young man was not looking in her direction but rather concentrating on the work at hand.
“I’m to find the troops of General Winder to deliver some flags and standards from Mary Pickersgill. Do you know if any are here or where they maybe?”
“There may be one or two out back, but they may have headed toward the fighting. Didn’t you hear the shots?”
“Yes.” Grace went to leave.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Grace. Grace Wisher.”
“Well, Miss Wisher, nice to meet you. I’m Paul Jennings and I work for President Madison. I’m his personal servant. Can you hand me that knife?”
Grace looked to the side table. There was a large butcher knife on top. She took it and handed it to the young man on the ladder.
He took the knife and started to cut the painting out.
Grace gasped.
“I have to save the painting and I’ll never get it unscrewed before the redcoats get here. This picture is President Washington. They can have the White House, but they can’t have him.”
Just then Josh ran in, “I found someone to take the flags! We need to leave now! The British are turning onto Pennsylvania Avenue!”
