by J. F. Collen
Augusta laughed. “Goodness, never! But my glow would have outshone a field of fireflies on a June night!
“I hope my sweltering state did not lead me to choose too light a silk for our attendance at the parade.”
Mrs. Entwhistle charged into their dressing room when she heard that question. “Too light? I think not. Too scant about the shoulders for day wear—I believe so!”
“Mutter! Augusta is not your daughter! She can choose whatever lawn gown her heart desires,” declared Nellie.
“Cornelia, while Mistress Van Cortlandt is in my charge I am bound and determined to ensure no ill befalls her. In that gown, outside in the bold sunlight, in the midst of literally an army of men, I will not be responsible for her safety.” Gertrude Entwhistle threw back her head and glared at her daughter.
Quite melodramatic Mutter! thought Nellie, but did not dare to contradict her.
Augusta did not quibble. “I will choose another gown post haste. I do not mean to give you a moment’s concern Mrs. Entwhistle! I am so appreciative of the opportunity to visit my dear Nathaniel, especially since my own family was unavailable to chaperone me on this trip. In point of fact, I struggled to choose between this gown and my ruffled taffeta in the first place.”
Ribbons, flounces, a buttonhook and even some powder flew as Augusta changed and the girls scurried about making their final toilettes. The girls chattered happily. Agnes, in a rare good mood, generously lent Anastasia her second-best bonnet, since it matched the trim on Anastasia’s gown perfectly.
Augusta used the time it took to change into her new gown to lecture the Entwhistle girls on her prior experiences of the scheduled events. “The parade will be thrilling! Oh, my heart stood quite on edge when I saw the rows and rows of cadets, keeping brilliant time to the music, all marching together, as with a single, unified step. Cornelia, you most certainly will be roused to poetry upon viewing the grandeur and symmetry of this patriotic exhibition.” The girls sat, spellbound at Augusta’s words. Pleased with her captivated audience, Augusta continued, “The dinner will be a four-course meal—one of the many reasons it was so wise, Mrs. Entwhistle, that you prepared only a light repast for our picnic basket on the river.” She nodded to the fair lady who graciously inclined her head.
“But the most exciting event by far will be the cotillion tonight! West Point soirees are unparalleled in their opulence.”
Nellie shivered in anticipation. Anastasia, so captivated by this fascinating information, stood listening, hairbrush in hand, half her hair pinned and the rest, still wildly undone from the windy boat ride, cavorting on her head.
Reveling in the attention, Augusta lowered her voice to increase the drama. “Ladies, the most important piece of information of all concerns a certain promenade dubbed ‘Flirtation Walk’.”
All the young ladies began to talk at once. Augusta held up her hand, commanding silence.
“That handsome cadet already explained it to me,” Nellie said, before Augusta could continue her lecture. “Flirtation Walk is merely a promenade to the historic site where the Great Chain was strung across the Hudson River during the Revolutionary War. Its path begins near the dock where our steamboat anchored.”
“No!” Augusta said with such a vehemence the other girls jumped. “Formerly it was a path to the Great Chain earthen fortification. Now it is the only place on this military base where cadets are permitted to take their female visitors unchaperoned!”
The girls gasped. Anastasia dropped her brush. Even Agnes looked duly impressed by this scintillating statement.
“Sakes alive!” Agnes whispered.
Augusta, pleased with this reaction, continued, “Ladies, I have not yet disclosed the most shocking part.” She paused for an even greater theatrical effect. Thrilled that she commanded their rapt attention, she leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “The culmination of the walk...”
The sisters all took two steps closer to the mirrored table where Augusta sat. Even Mrs. Entwhistle paused in her preparations to listen.
“...The figurative apex, a compulsory stopping point, popular with all of the cadets is... ‘kissing rock’!” Augusta leaned back and smiled broadly, waiting for the melodrama of her statement to cause a response from her listeners.
The Entwhistle sisters all began talking at once.
“It cannot be so!”
“The gentlemen cadets try to kiss us?”
“Kissing! How scandalous!”
“Augusta Phillipa Fredericka Van Cortlandt!” Mrs. Entwhistle said. “How on earth did you obtain such information? Have you frequented this place?”
Augusta had the grace to look shocked. “Frequented? Most certainly not!”
Mrs. Entwhistle gave a ‘harrumph.’
“Howsoever, my trusted fiancé, has escorted me on this promenade, upon occasion, which conduct I do not think inappropriate, in any manner, for an affianced couple.” Augusta stood up and looked Mrs. Entwhistle squarely in the eye.
“Now, now, dear Augusta. I certainly did not mean to imply anything to the contrary. Howsoever,” Mrs. Entwhistle repeated Augusta’s words and raised her eyebrows. “As your guardian for this expedition, and in the interest of steering my own impressionable daughters on a smooth course to matrimony, I must make all the relevant inquiries concerning every obstacle and potential pitfall which might veer us off course,” said Mrs. Entwhistle patting Augusta on the shoulder.
Nellie raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
“Come, come, ladies. Make haste! It is time to be underway.” Mrs. Entwhistle turned toward the wardrobe for her shawl and parasol, took one final glance in the mirror to make sure her hat pin was still secure and moved to the door of their chamber.
Agnes and Anastasia scrambled around in the wardrobe for their final accessories.
“Am I presentable?” Nellie asked Augusta.
Instead of a reply, Augusta pulled her in close and whispered in her ear, “Do you still correspond with Obadiah?” Nellie pulled back in surprise but Augusta continued, “You managed to avoid answering Nathaniel’s direct question at the wharf upon our arrival. Furthermore, your head seemed to be turned many a time by the men straggling about, in the brief duration of our appearance at the dock.”
Nellie blushed at the memory of the many romantic approaches she fielded from the bench full of cadets at the quay in the short time after their arrival. “I do correspond—quite regularly, in fact with Mr. Wright. Obadiah has beautiful penmanship.”
“Beautiful penmanship?” Augusta stepped back and gave a merry laugh, but raised her eyebrows in an arch expression. “Nothing quite turns a girl’s head like beautiful penmanship.” She winked at Nellie.
Cornelia Rose blushed, but mercifully was spared the necessity of a response as Mrs. Entwhistle opened the door and sailed out into the hallway of the hotel.
We are on our way to the parade! Nellie thought. She marched toward the door, but then turned and ran back to the table for her itchy gloves.
Mrs. Entwhistle escorted the ladies to the one o’clock parade since all of the cadet escorts were already in formation; platoons stacked one behind the other. Their group joined a stream of beautifully attired women, silks sailing in the brisk gusts of wind, coursing into viewing stands on the northern part of the Great Plain. The merry maidens passed the long gray line of men, in a colorful, blithe parade of their own.
The pageantry of the cadets marching across the parade grounds, feet rising and falling in unison, in perfect cadence, thrilled the female spectators. The rousing music of the United States Military Academy band further quickened Nellie’s heartbeat.
Behind her fan Augusta whispered to Nellie, “‘Tis a marvel how striking each man looks in his uniform, whether he be a pasty-faced city boy, or weathered, sun-kissed youth who heretofore knew only the plow or the rifle in some backwoods country. Truly, the training and the uniform homogenize these disparate men into a squadron.”
“I understand th
at men from all parts of the country seek admission to this prestigious Academy, yet these men all blend together as one unit,” responded Nellie.
Augusta giggled. “I was here the first week after Nathaniel reported for duty. The assemblage was not the well-oiled machine it is today. It was a rather ludicrous spectacle of tobacco chewing Westerners stepping on the toes of scowling Southerners, with New Englanders watching, mouths agape, instead of marching along. Backwoods Frontier boys trod the wrong way, on the wrong foot, all prodded and pushed by instructors and drill sergeants. Verily, those Plebes represented every state of our Union, from Maine to Texas.”
“In a few short months, marching and drilling transformed them into a blended and harmonized corps of soldiers,” marveled Nellie.
“How sweet does this music fall on one’s ear,” Anastasia leaned over to exclaim.
The parade held the enthralled attention of the ladies. When the cadets cleared the field and the last note died, the ladies heaved sighs of disappointment.
The cadets broke rank and began to filter over to the groups of spectators, milling in front of the Superintendent’s review stand.
Nathaniel bowed over Augusta’s hand as she said, “We’ve had such a jolly good time at the parade—we might well be satisfied with martial music at the cotillion tonight!”
“My silly sweet pumpkin,” said Nathaniel, tenderness evident in his eyes. “We would not disappoint the bevy of belles gracing us with their presence tonight with anything less than a twenty-piece orchestra, playing all of the dance favorites.”
The girls twittered in delight.
The only deleterious note of the day was the agony of watching Elmer P. Otis’s maneuvers during their formal dinner.
Elmer only stumbled once on their promenade into the formal dining room. But as they found their assigned table, Otis crumbled to pieces and fumbled with the protocol. Befuddled, he couldn’t pick their seats at the long table. First, Elmer held a chair for her and sat down to her right. Then, he immediately stood back up and indicated for her to do the same so he could sit at her left. Finally, blushing, with perspiration already streaming from his pockmarked face, he leapfrogged over her and sat across the table from her. At last he moved back to the seat he first claimed at Nellie’s right. His ineptitude and anxiety was excruciating to witness, yet Nellie was powerless to help.
“Mutter, my heart palpitates painfully at every awkward misstep,” Nellie whispered, her lips practically touching her mother’s ear, as her mother sat down next to her.
“Hush, mit du,” chided her mother.
But when Otis picked up his dessert fork at the top of the plate, rather than the salad fork on the outside of the setting, in the process neglecting to take his cloth napkin and immediately place it on his lap, Mutter leaned closer to Nellie and said, “Mayhap he is a bit green, and unskilled in the social graces.”
The group began conversing, first with the dinner partner to the left. Nellie was privy to some observations and instructions from Mrs. Entwhistle.
“I do wonder how it is that I am seated next to you, Mutter. Should I not be seated next to that gentleman on the other side?”
“Natürlich,” said Mutter. “Naturally. I am loath to admit it but, mayhap, your escort did not seat you correctly.”
Nellie turned to Elmer, but any thought of conversation flew from her head when she saw that Elmer sat, still perspiring heavily, beads of sweat gathering almost to the dripping point on his forehead and nose. “Are you ill?” she asked, concern for his wellbeing taking precedence over any point of etiquette.
Startled, Elmer looked up, eyes wild and shook his head no.
“Mercy Elmer, then whatever is the matter with your food?”
Elmer kept his gaze on Nellie, misery swimming in his eyes. Then he looked from left to right, and then finally back into her eyes. “We did not say the blessing,” he whispered. “Protocol demands that we do not touch a morsel of food until we say the blessing.”
Nellie glanced around the large dining hall for evidence of a preacher. None apparent, she noticed the other cadets were already eating. “I am unsure of reason for the lack of benediction,” she said. Elmer didn’t move. He sat at attention at his plate, his woeful eyes staring straight ahead; sweat now dripping on the tablecloth.
“Mutter, I think Elmer needs a priest,” Nellie whispered to her mother.
“Gott im Himmel, was ist los?” Mrs. Entwhistle broke protocol and leaned around Nellie to look at Elmer. “God in heaven, whatever can the matter be? He looks terrible. Is he ill?”
“No, no!’ said Nellie. “He cannot eat unless they say a benediction.”
“Ach du Liebe,” said her mother, fanning herself.
“Wait a minute,” Nellie said, frowning. She turned to Elmer. “Could you not simply say a blessing to yourself, silently, as I did? Would that not suffice to conform to the protocol? Mayhap that is exercise the other cadets performed?”
Elmer broke into a huge grin. “But of course! That’s how we prayed at home! It’s just that here, they always order someone to say a blessing out loud and we are forbidden to touch a morsel until the benediction is announced to the platoons.”
Mercy! I thought Elmer was a simpleton before he joined the Academy and started following orders. Now the excess of commands has reduced him to dimwitted. Will he never learn how to think for himself?
Nellie shook her head. Not while he remains in training—independent thinking is not a skill highly regarded here.
Chapter 17 – Oh! I Wanna Dance with Somebody
West Point, March 1850
I survived a tedious dinner, filled with multiple faux pas on the part of my escort, and enormous amounts of truly unsavory food, only to be a wallflower at the cotillion?
Nellie jealously watched her sisters field lines of bachelor cadets rushing them. Their dance cards were already full. Nellie spied the tall, good-looking cadet who had retrieved her handkerchief exercising his social graces, greeting the hostess and the planning committee. But before she ascertained whether he would approach her, three other cadets approached and each asked for the pleasure of a dance. At each request Nellie hesitated, but then accepted. She was unsure of the protocol as an ‘escorted lady.’ She quickly scanned the room looking for Augusta. She would surely provide me sage counsel. If there are only twelve dances at this cotillion, and I am ‘escorted’ by Elmer for the night, for how many dances am I free to choose another partner? Since her friend was nowhere in sight, Nellie impulsively allowed each of those three cadets to claim her for a dance, but she did not dare accept any other requests.
Now she stood on the sidelines, listening to the glorious music compelling her to dance. She tapped her feet in tempo with the music, but also with impatience. Not only am I without a partner for the first dance, but Elmer is curiously absent. What mayhem could he be instigating now, and where?
Finally, he appeared at her side, midway through the second number, sweat once again beaded on his forehead, his poor complexion unfortunately prominent even in the soft gaslight.
That dance ended and a Virginia reel began; yet Elmer stood, immobile in front of her, but for wiping sweat from his lip. Must I tell him it is customary to dance at a cotillion? she thought.
A cadet stopped right in front of her and bowed. “May I have this dance?” he asked.
Out of courtesy Nellie turned toward Otis, her eyes seeking his permission.
“Oh, did you want to dance?” he asked, as if the idea only just occurred to him.
The other cadet flushed and requested his name be placed on Nellie’s dance card for the next unclaimed dance.
“Lizard,” Otis muttered. But Nellie gratefully penciled it in.
Now, in the middle of the first dance with the gawky Elmer, Nellie was quite relieved that her dance card showed a Cadet Zetus S. Searle was soon to be her partner. How many times must a lady smile through her crushed toes? she wondered. And this is a Grand March, such a simple form
ation, with a Dance Master leading. She tried to look as if she were enjoying herself and promenade without stumbling over the clumsy Elmer’s feet. Goodness, I thought the cadets all took dancing lessons.
Elmer smiled down at her. “Is this not wonderful? You are heaven in my arms and my lucky charm. I can never execute these steps during dance instruction. Tonight, I have mastered them! My assigned partner, Cadet La Rhett Livingston must have two left feet and an elbow that is certified as a bayonet. I was beginning to think I was deficient, but with you as my partner, I am floating like a dream.”
Nellie smiled a genuine smile at the naivety of the statement. This hardly qualifies as floating! Still, it is somewhat endearing that Elmer P. Otis believes I am ‘heaven, and a lucky charm.’ Nellie relaxed just a bit. After all, he thinks we are floating! Somehow, she found herself tripping over him less. She took advantage of Elmer’s concentration on his steps to look around the huge hall. Any attempt at conversation seems to further confuse his footwork, she thought, I’ll just ‘float,’ preserve my toes that remain unbroken, and observe the other dancers.
Anastasia swept past her in the arms of a short, stocky cadet who was surprisingly light on his feet. Nellie suppressed a giggle at the look of consternation on Anastasia’s face. Anastasia was looking at her feet. Oh no! Nellie thought, ‘tis a sure path to a misstep. She caught her sister’s eye and gave Stasia a wink. Smile! Nellie mouthed. Stasia blushed, but then smiled at her partner who broke out in a broad grin. Stasia swooned in his arms and her next steps flowed more freely. Nellie overheard the cadet say, “Mona Lisa! Your smile is so disarming, an August breeze could knock me flat.” Anastasia beamed and the couple danced away.
Nellie glanced around the dance floor again and spotted her sister Agnes with a tall, trim cadet, gliding easily around the perimeter of the dancers. Agnes had an enraptured look on her face. My goodness, she must be sweet on that cadet, Nellie thought.
The music stopped and Elmer looked uncertain. The tall cadet that had just been dancing with Agnes appeared at Nellie’s side. “Plebe, make foot! I have the next dance,” he drawled.
