by J. F. Collen
To regain a moment of solitude, Nell again retreated to her window, the only place where she could escape her sisters’ squabbling. Her reverie did not disappoint. The magic of the bewitched crystal world before her recaptured her wonder and awe.
She leaned out even farther from the window casement, suddenly daunted by the milestone of this event. Anastasia was making her debut in society tonight. Nellie was somehow presented too, but she knew only as an afterthought. Since she had just turned the ripe age of fourteen, Nellie was too old to officially debut. Furthermore, she had attended Mrs. Wheeler’s Christmas Ball last year, so it would not be her first appearance in society. Goodness, fifteen-year-old Augusta had just become engaged! That Nathaniel was a bold gentleman. When he charted a course he immediately sailed it.
Even though Agnes had no suitors, Nellie attributed that to her sharp tongue, not the fact that she debuted too early. Nellie felt the attention of many eligible men in Sing Sing, and the neighboring towns of Sparta and Tarrytown but she was not yet allowed to receive suitors in the home.
I anticipate a prospect bonanza tonight, she thought.
Mayhap that certain handsome young ensign at Churchill’s Academy will be in attendance. How did Obadiah manage to keep catching Cornelia’s eye, as she went about her mother’s errands on foot through the length of the town, from the gristmill to the milliner? And coincidentally meet her at Hart’s Apothecary, just when she emerged from behind the counter?
Nellie shivered, but not from cold. She thrilled at the memory of the first kiss of Hannibal Rufus and their innocent romantic encounter the first time she went to the Methodist Revival at Campwoods. The thrill immediately became a chill as her terror in the woods and the debacle of this past summer washed over her anew. How could I possibly recall Hannibal Rufus’s touch without total revulsion and indignation? Thank goodness Obadiah came to my rescue. How could I have erred so gravely in my judgment of Hannibal Rufus? He seemed quite the courtly gentleman when we first met. Mercy, the embarrassment of my deplorable lack of discernment in assessing the personalities of men!
But mayhap, the continuous parade of flirtatious schoolboys that pass through the apothecary will help me develop better judgment, she reflected. I thank the Lord Midwife Rafferty introduced me to Sing Sing’s apothecist, Doctor Hart. And I am more fervently grateful that young men like the sarsaparilla Doctor Hart serves!
After Miss Sarah’s Ladies Finishing School, she happily divided her time pursuing her midwifery training. Three afternoons a week she made tinctures and potions or did rounds with Mrs. Rafferty. The other two she spent behind the counter at the pharmacy. There, the curriculum of Nellie’s apprenticeship expanded to include many lessons in coquetry.
Nellie was ecstatic at her biweekly opportunity for flirtations—there was no occasion to learn this skill at Miss Sarah’s. At first, Nellie’s position behind the pharmacy glass allowed her to observe, unseen, the many young boys who loitered to read comics, slurp sarsaparilla, or devour a banana split. She gradually overcame the shyness engendered by the sheltered life of the Entwhistle home to be a more active participant in these young men’s society. Once she stepped from behind the glass and started talking directly to one of the young cadets, she quickly mastered the art of charming them. She was not, however, sure she was ready to give up innocent flirtations and turn to the serious business of marriage.
Impervious to the freeze of the wintry night, Nellie kept her upper torso thrust out the window like a mermaid figurehead on a Viking ship. I thirst for greater knowledge—I shan’t permit my attention to be distracted so easily by these handsome young men! If only there had been schoolmarms at the public school who were as learned as Midwife Rafferty, I would not feel so lacking in substantive knowledge.
Nellie remembered her early education in the one room public school house on Brandreth Street. When I began my schooling, only a few dozen children attended, with an old matron grimly ‘learning us’ the three R’s: readin, ritin, and rithmatic. Now, there were so many pupils at the Brandreth Street School there was talk of a new building and adding more teachers; maybe even ones as well-educated as the school masters who taught at Obadiah’s military academy, or any of the five other private boy’s academies in Sing Sing. But it was too late for her, she had not had any say in the matter—she was transplanted to the Lady’s School. Nellie cultivated and accumulated most of her knowledge on her own, through constant reading. When her brothers left their books and assignments from The Mount Pleasant Military Academy lying around, Nellie read the books and, covering her brother’s answers, completed the assignments too.
Nellie begrudged every minute she spent at the finishing school. She already knew how to be a Lady! In fact, she was sure she was born knowing more, instinctively, than even the headmistress herself would ever learn. But Mutter will never be dissuaded from her educational philosophy and worldview, despite the futility and lack of utility of the ‘ladylike’ curriculum. The only thing Nell wanted to gain from Miss Sarah’s was a greater facility in the classics and literature. I will study prodigious, renowned authors and acquire my father’s command of their works, quote for quote. But stitching and deportment? How futile. Determined to continue her education in science she learned everything possible about healing - on her own.
She longed for the day when her mornings would be free from her hour of practicing perfect posture and pouring out tea. While she waited for her freedom, she increased her knowledge of tinctures and potions, purges, and emulsions at Hart’s Apothecary, in spite of the time she spent flirting during her twice-weekly shifts.
Mutter would hardly approve of my self-education in coquetry, she ruminated. I daresay she would find it shocking! So far, she had continued to please her parents by practicing her decorum at the dinner table, and often quoting the classics.
“Shut that window!” Agnes rudely disturbed her reverie. “Sakes alive! You’ll have us all catch our death of cold. Goodness! Now you’ll be the laughing stock of the party—your nose is scarlet red to match your gown.”
Nellie’s entire face was actually red, not so much from the cold but from her anger at Agnes’s perennial, unflagging rudeness. She closed the window and bit her tongue.
“I suppose it is time to go downstairs?” she asked.
“Past time! You are most fortunate I came back to retrieve you.” Agnes informed her. “Patrick and his fiancé have been here for hours and are anxious to get the festivities started. Many of the guests have already arrived and our presence is requested downstairs to assemble for the first dance.”
With her red nose and ears ringing both from the cold and the scalding words of Agnes, Nellie felt more apprehensive than lucky entering society.
Nellie’s head was spinning, not so much from the dancing, as from all the male attention. The minuet left her breathless. The daring French wheel with a particularly handsome young man made her feel blithe and desirable. This is an evening of wonders, indeed! Nellie smiled and flirted, imagining herself the belle of the ball.
She paid no heed to her mother’s disapproving stare.
The band burst out in the new Steven Foster song, O Susanna. The assembled guests cheered in appreciation and the dancing took on a country twang. Nellie could not keep her body still. For the staider music she merely glided and swayed. But now, with every chorus of “.... don’t you cry for me, I’ll be coming to Alabama with a banjo on my knee....” her whole body gyrated to the tune.
Her mother frowned at her every time she caught Nellie’s eye.
Her father’s approach, characteristically, was less subtle than her mother’s. After a partner moved in a bit too close and Nellie made no attempt to step back but rather squeezed his hand, her father suddenly appeared at her elbow.
“Yer lookin’ a wee bit flushed, me darling. ‘Tis time for a rest at the punch bowl and a bit o’ cooling refreshment,” he said, taking her by the elbow and gently but physically removing her from the arms of her latest partn
er. “Time to give the other colleens a chance to turn a square.” Nellie made a face at her startled partner who quickly rallied his composure and bowed to her father.
“But sir, I have only now summoned the courage to ask the most beautiful young lady at the dance to do me the honor of being my partner.”
“‘Tis a pretty speech, best saved for another lovely lass awaitin’ in the wings yonder.” Not persuaded, Mr. James Entwhistle nodded toward the bevy of beauties clustered together near the delicacies and fruit. He turned Nellie away and pointed her toward the wall sconces.
“Me own daughter, dancing with every two-bit, pie-face scallywag with the insolence to put their hands on her. Yea, an’ reveling in it!” her father intoned in her ear as he steered her toward a secluded corner of their spacious ballroom. “Yer Mutter is fit to be tied, and I’m a wee bit peeved with ye meself.” His brow furrowed further as he wheeled her around to face him.
Nellie hung her head, instantly deflated. “But Papa, I meant no indiscretion! I didn’t think....”
“Precisely, me lass. Ye didn’t ken,” he said, but his face softened. “I’ll no’ tolerate any of me daughters on the end of a grope like a common bar-maid.”
“Papa!” said Nellie; shocked her father would even refer to something so tawdry in her presence, much less than say it to her directly.
“I’m sorry for t’ rough language, but when ye play with fire, them lads will sizzle every time. A word to t’ wise is sufficient, I’ll wager. Ye have always been a bright colleen. This art of ladylike comportment I’ve left in yer Mutter’s capable hands. She’s t’ lady of t’ family, a right proper lady, and we’ll have all our young ladies behave to t’ pinnacle of perfection like her. Ye didn’t know the ways o’ the world, and the low thoughts o’ lads. ‘Tis our parental duty to make ye savvy. I’ll no’ be speakin’ on this subject again.”
I fervently hope not, Nellie thought, flummoxed.
With this speech completed, his face relaxed into its usual grin and he pulled her in for a bear hug.
Nellie breathed a long sigh. This heady attention downright clouded my thinking. Her racing emotions and fluttering heart had got the better of her judgment. She hoped no one else had witnessed her permitting one partner to squeeze her waist, or another to touch her hair. She blushed in the relative gloom of the corner, grateful that the sconces of candles shone more brightly off the polished wood floor just beyond them. Now mortified by her own behavior, she tried to content herself with watching the conclusion of the dance.
I thrill at the male touch. A quaver of pleasure tingles inside me! I am a depraved sinner lusting in my heart, she scolded herself.
Her father’s squeeze of her hand did not assuage her bitter self-deprecation. She looked at him as a single tear rolled slowly down her cheek.
“Ah, me Nellie, ‘tis not so dire as all that. ‘Twere it not for ye Mutter’s eternal vigilance in the comportment of her daughter, ‘twould not have been noticed by me, let alone anyone else. ‘Twill be yer own little sin, that a trip to the confessional will make right, there’s a good colleen.” He smiled down at her.
“Ah-hem,” said a voice at Mr. Entwhistle’s elbow.
Nellie leaned forward to look around the girth of her father’s anterior. It was Obadiah, formal dress uniform impeccably pressed, brass buttons shining, even in the diminished candlelight of the corner. Sword hilt gripped by his white-gloved hand, he was a dashingly handsome sight. Nellie snuck a look at his shoes. Yes, spit polished and glowing darkly.
“Good evening sir,” he said bowing to Mr. Entwhistle. “Good evening Mistress Entwhistle.” He smiled and looked her directly in the eye. Nellie cheered up a bit. My knight in shining armor! It seems his forte is rescuing me from distress.
“Papa, please permit me to introduce Mr. Obadiah Weber Wright,” Nellie said, and gave a little curtsey.
“I know of ye, lad,” said Mr. Entwhistle, with a curt nod of his head as Obadiah bowed.
“If I might have a word with you in private, sir?” he said, surprising them both. “If the lady will forgive me?” Rendered speechless, Nellie only nodded. Whatever could he want?
Nellie curtseyed to them both, at a nod from her father, and drifted closer to the dancers.
Mr. Entwhistle raised his eyebrows at the young man.
“Ahem,” Obadiah cleared his throat. He blurted, “I will head to Yale University for the spring semester shortly.”
Mr. Entwhistle did not react, save to raise his eyebrows even higher on his forehead. Obadiah shuffled his feet, smoothed his mustache, removed his gloves, tucked them in his cummerbund and gripped the hilt of his sword.
“I have eyes for your daughter. I wonder if I might look in on her occasionally, especially in the summer months, when term is out,” he stammered.
“Never thought I would see the likes of a ‘college man’ as good enough for me daughter. What will ye be occupying yer time with during the frequent periods when class is not in session?” asked James Entwhistle.
Not allowing Obadiah any time to answer, Entwhistle rolled on. “Will ye be out on capers, pulling pranks, like t’ rest of the sophomoric crowd, idly ‘studying’ when ye could be earning an honest day’s wage and getting an eddycation?” Mr. Entwhistle ran his hand over the top of his head and scratched his ear in a brusque dismissive gesture. “I didn’t have anyone spoon-feed me an eddycation, I read books and figured by meself. At my employment, I trained me own self—I didn’t just do t’ grunt work as a laborer, no, I put meself forward, looking at t’ plans, learnin’ t’ principles, figurin’ out t’ engineering and the like.” Mr. Entwhistle paused and looked hard at Obadiah, who stood, expressionless, listening, the only sign of tension his white knuckles on the hilt of his sword.
“Ah ‘tis a bit o’ sour grapes, I’ll concede.” Entwhistle shook his head and ran his hand over the top of his head again, ending in a quick scratch at the back of his neck. “I didn’t have t’ opportunity for formal study. But I should no begrudge it o’ you. I know yer father worked hard to get his accolades and obtain his highly esteemed positions of Senator, and Governor of our fair state. ‘Though I can no’ stand his political views....”
Obadiah grimaced. It was another mark against him.
“...’Tis of little consequence now. Sorry to sour yer milk. Ah, ye can’t cast t’ sins o’ t’ fadder on the son. I’ll allow ye that lad. Yea, I ‘ll allow ye to write yer name in fer a dance on her dance card tonight,” Mr. Entwhistle concluded.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your consideration of my qualifications. Perhaps it might also be acceptable to you to allow me to write to her, in fact regularly correspond, while I am at Ya...ahem, in Connecticut, attending to my business?” Obadiah looked straight ahead at the dance floor while he talked, not daring to look the older man in the eye.
Mr. Entwhistle looked at the dance floor too, seeing the twirling, floating, flirting Cornelia Rose. “...If me colleen desires, ye can correspond with her while ye pursue yer eddycation,” he conceded, more than confirmed.
Obadiah frowned; frustrated Mr. Entwhistle would not endorse his request wholeheartedly. He gripped his sword hilt tighter and wiggled the blade in and out of the sheath, deciding if he should advocate harder for himself, lacking the proper words.
Obadiah followed Mr. Entwhistle’s eyes to the blithe figure of Nellie, laughing and enjoying another minuet. Realizing further words would be futile, he thanked Mr. Entwhistle for his time, shook his hand and stepped aside.
Standing on the sidelines Obadiah stroked his mustache in dismay. All he had obtained through this interview was permission to dance? The band began another song while Obadiah grappled with his feelings. His eyes again lit upon the reeling and smiling figure of Nellie, moving through the chain of hands and a smile returned to his face. When the last breathless reel ended, he moved through the crowd and once again appeared at Nellie’s elbow.
“Fairest Lady of the soiree, may I have this dance?” Nellie lo
oked up into Obadiah’s eyes and blushed. He is quite charming, in a distinct, sincere, and intelligent manner, she thought.
“The pleasure would be mine sir,” she said, and dropped a pretty little curtsey. Obadiah took her hand and piloted her on to the dance floor. Nellie felt a delightful tingle at his touch. Oh Lord, she prayed, will I have to confess this too?
Chapter 11 – Baby, to You, All I am is the Invisible Man
Sing Sing to Manhattan, January 1849
She did not want to leave the warm coziness of her bed.
Last night, with the help of her feather comforter, she transferred her body heat to her bed, making it a warm cocoon that lulled her instantly into a luxurious deep sleep. Yes, she was awake, but an exploratory foot determined it was frosty cold in her garret room. She rolled over and snuggled deeper into the eiderdown. When she shut her eyes after last night’s festivities she continued her dancing and revelry in her sleep, dreaming of the evening’s enchanting ball. The dream still floated through her head. Now, comfy, snug, and still drowsy, she re-experienced the panoply of her emotions of that magical event: the excitement of the preparation, the anticipation, the heady attention, the energy of the dance, the thrill of the dancing. The thrill of the flirtations! The thrill of the touching!
The thrill.
She shivered, not from cold, but from delight.
She allowed herself one more stretch wrapped in the warmth of the feather comforter.
At last, the electricity of the still palpable thrill moved her out of the bed into the cold morning. Then it fizzled away leaving her standing cold and tired, searching for her robe, sad the ball was over.
The morning-after-the-ball-blues lasted only until she descended the back stairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Entwhistle looked up from her tea and toast and greeted her with the scintillating statement, “New additions to your wardrobe Cornelia, are absolutely required.”
