by J. F. Collen
“Aber—was ist los mit du? Obadiah Weber Wright? Gott im Himmel! That marriage would not be prudent. It is always something unexpected with you Cornelia Rose.
“Ach! Your father and I could also reconsider the viability of Lawrence Simmons Baker. He should suit you well enough—tall and handsome with good prospects. And a romantic streak too, as I recall the large bouquet of carnations he conjured out of the blue.” More accurately ‘in blue’, Nellie smiled at her own pun.
“However, I dare say it is unlikely that we can convince two Southern Gentlemen suitors to forsake the South and allow our daughters to remain in their native land....” Mother whisked back out of the room tsk, tsking, and an ‘ach du Liebe’ floated up the back stairs as she descended them.
This discussion is hardly concluded, thought Nellie. I will not be an idle bystander while my fate is decided for me! Lawrence Simmons Baker? Pshaw! They would not be quite so enamored of him if they knew of his antics on Flirtation Walk. She stomped down the stairs in rebellion. Yes Mutter, like a cowhand!
At the bottom of the stairs, Anastasia grabbed her by her waist and pointed into the drawing room. “Isn’t yuletide the most magical time of year? Every doorway, every mantel festooned with boughs of holly and every window cheered by candles.”
Nellie smiled, trying to shake her disgruntlement. I must not forgo the enchantment of this season. ‘Tis Christmas Eve! she thought. She returned her sister’s hug, her good feeling rushing back. “My thoughts exactly, my dear, sweet sister.” Anastasia tied the red ribbon she was preparing for the drawing room doorknob into Nellie’s hair. Nellie draped a single strand of precious tinsel on Anastasia’s head.
“Ach, Kinder, save the tinsel for the Tannenbaum.” Mother ‘tsk, tsked’ scurrying past them, now carrying a basket of fresh bread. The girls laughed and began to decorate the rest of the room in earnest.
The day of preparation for the Christmas pageantry passed quickly as the Entwhistle family and their help scurried about, baking, decorating, cleaning, and polishing.
With the only pause from work a hasty lunch of bread and broth, Nellie and her sisters donned their cloaks over their warmest pretty dresses, complaining of fatigue.
But at the sight of Nathaniel, Augusta, and Zetus singing at their front door to earn entrance, all thoughts of fatigue left them.
Mrs. Entwhistle pulled the mulled wine from the stove and carefully poured it into the company-sized sterling silver punch bowl. The group broke out in a rousing chorus of Here We Go Wassailing. The young people clustered around the punchbowl, singing and filling their glasses. Nellie’s mother added her beautiful alto voice to the song and poured herself a glass too. Obadiah came into the drawing room, still brushing snow from the shoulders of his great coat. “‘Tis a perfect night for caroling!” he announced. Nellie smiled in delight.
They gathered around the beautiful Christmas tree she and her siblings lit only minutes ago. The strategically placed tinsel magnified the light of the small candles, bathing all of her mother’s precious ornaments from Germany in their soft magical glow.
“O Holy Night...” sang Nellie, “...the stars are brightly shining....” Everyone joined in, Obadiah’s tenor resounding, loud and clear. Nellie grinned at him in surprise. “What a pleasing singing voice you have,” she whispered in-between stanzas. He bent close and whispered back, “We will make a great duet.” Delighted, Nellie grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. Obadiah raised his eyebrows and stepped in even closer, sliding his arm around her waist as they stood watching the Christmas tree shimmer.
Mrs. Entwhistle leaned forward, so her frown was visible to Nellie, in spite of her lack of physical proximity. Nellie heeded the small wiggle of her mother’s finger, which she understood all too well. She took a half sidestep away from Obadiah, in compliance with her mother’s wishes. Nellie smiled at Obadiah to soften the blow of the new distance between them and surreptitiously squeezed his hand again.
In high spirits, the group raised their glasses in toast after toast to everyone’s health and prosperity.
In the middle of a long toast proposed by Zetus, winding its way through the history of the past year toward the promise of the next, the door again opened. Elmer P. Otis appeared from behind the heavy velvet curtain hanging over the entry alcove, shielding the ballroom from the chill weather.
Obadiah made an angry noise in his throat and pulled his arm away from Nellie’s waist in an abrupt gesture of displeasure. But as Otis made the rounds greeting everyone, showing off his newly acquired manners? Nellie wondered, the door again opened causing a mighty flap in the curtain. Clara Rafferty, Nellie’s school chum, blew in.
“I do so hope I have not missed all the fun!” she exclaimed. “Mother had a woman ready to deliver when complications set in. As usual, she needed an extra set of hands. What she will do when Otis and I wed and are off to the wild, Wild West, I do not know!” she tucked her hand under Elmer’s elbow and faced the assembled guests, smiling.
In seconds, the import of those announcements sank into Nellie’s brain. Obadiah’s too, apparently, for his arm encircled her waist again. Certainly, if anyone can mold that sickly boy into a healthy man it would be Clara! she thought.
Nellie broke away and dashed to Clara’s side. “Mercy! You are a sly one! Sneaking a wedding announcement in the middle of apologies for tardiness. Whatever shall we do with you?” She gave her a big hug.
“Celebrate!” proclaimed Anastasia and Zetus, almost at the same time. They looked each other in the eye and they giggled.
“This momentous turn of events in my life has only just occurred,” Clara said, with a vivacity and exuberance that spread to everyone in the room. “Suddenly, just a few moments ago, Cadet Otis appeared at our door and requested to speak to my parents!”
Obadiah approached Elmer and said, “May I be the first to congratulate you sir, and wish you all the best.” He pumped Elmer’s hand up and down, grabbing Elmer’s elbow with his other hand in his enthusiasm. Otis withstood the hand pumping with flame red ears and a chagrined expression on his face. But when Clara turned toward him, his face lit up like a Christmas candle surrounded in tinsel.
Mercy! Mutter did not waste any time advising Mrs. Otis, Nellie thought. Tarnation! Otis did not waste any time changing course. Mercy, he wears quite a happy affect.
Nellie smiled. My sanguineness increases tenfold at this news. The happy couple’s joy makes me even merrier. “I propose a celebratory song. It may be a trifle ambitious, but what say you to singing Gloria in Excelsis Deo in rounds?” she asked.
Anastasia squealed in delight. “‘Tis my favorite Christmas Carol, made even grander by singing in rounds. I will organize us into groups. Baritones, you stand over there.... Tenors....” Anastasia was pointing as everyone shuffled around.
In the ensuing confusion, when Clara was lining up with the sopranos, Otis sidled up to Nellie and whispered, “‘Twas a cruel blow to find you had dismissed me as a suitor.” At Nellie’s thunderstruck face Otis asked, “Was I misinformed? Do you still carry a torch for me?”
Nellie pulled him over to the front door alcove on the pretext of pointing toward something outside the window. “No, no, of course not.”
Otis looked crushed.
“Elmer Pet... Otis, there is not sufficient time for me to either mince words or merely intimate what I must communicate to you. I did not, was not, nor never have I, been smitten with you, carried a torch for you, nor felt anything close to love. Pity, sure, but love—never.
“The only critical inquiry now is whether you truly love Clara or are merely toying with her affections.” Nellie’s breath came in short bursts from the exertion of carefully choosing unambiguous words. She was beside herself at the thought that this silly man would hurt her true friend.
Otis blinked. “No, no of course not. I have always loved Clara. She is a dear friend and a worthy helpmate. But I have been besotted with you ever since I sat next to you in the Broad Street School..
..”
“Otis, a school boy, puppy love cannot compare to mutually exchanged affection,” said Nellie. “I cannot....”
Otis smiled and gave a rueful shake of his head. “I have come to that realization. Howsoever, I was compelled to declare my undying love one last time. I must certify your full cognizance—you forsake your chance for my affection forever by refusing me now.”
Nellie shook her head. Of all the egocentric, absurd declarations this one takes the cake.... She could think of nothing to say in reply.
An icy breeze again ruffled the heavy velvet curtain at the front door. Nellie pulled it aside. The front door swung open fully and a blast of cold air whooshed in Lawrence Simmons Baker.
“Just the very female I desire,” he drawled. He pulled her through the curtain and swept her into his arms. My word, thought Nellie, it’s a conspiracy!
“Please, Cadet Baker, we are in the middle of forming our caroling groups,” Nellie protested, pulling back.
“Then I submit, my impeccable timing perseveres. I need but a moment of your time. I must inform you, I depart on a specially negotiated furlough to Mississippi. Some important family business urgently needs my attention. While I am loath to miss my usual Christmas Day feast at the Academy, consisting of Professor Kendrick’s spiked peaches, waffles, and maple syrup, do not pine for me. I cherish the opportunity to assiduously perform my filial duty. My sweet, I will see you immediately upon my return.” Baker swept her back into his arms, kissed her hard on the lips and opened the door, dashing back into the cold.
Nellie was flabbergasted. She turned to see Otis, face beet red, peeking in at the edge of the curtain, his mouth hanging open.
“Cornelia, Elmer, please. You have delayed our festivities long enough,” called Anastasia. Nellie gratefully ran past Otis, back toward the group flanking the great hearth on both sides. She stood next to Anastasia in the alto section.
Suddenly Obadiah’s angry gesture, beckoning her to stand next to him, caught her eye. But he could not have heard Otis...he could not have seen Baker! The heavy velvet curtain hung over the alcove.... She started singing, ears burning red, thoughts jumbled.
In the middle of the first ‘Glo-or-or-or-or-or-or-or-or-or-i-a’ refrain, Obadiah appeared at her side. She looked up with apprehension on her face. He whispered, “I don’t care if I am a tenor and you are an alto, my position is beside you!”
Nellie laughed, right in the middle of the “in excelsis Deo.”
The evening had an impish Christmas magic all its own.
The magic still crackled in the air when Nellie awoke the next morning, nose tip cold, but feet still cozy. She did not have the luxury of turning over for one more snooze, however. She felt a presence.
Her eyes flew open. Matthias’s face was almost touching her cold nose. “Nellie, how many times do I gots to tell ye? It’s Christmas Day and we get to open our stockings!” he shouted, jumping up and down.
Half asleep but wrapped warmly in her robe, shawl, and the magic of the season, Nellie let Matthias lead her downstairs to join the others.
“Warum bist du the last to awaken?” asked her father, his eyes projecting their magical twinkle. He winked at her.
Who knew Papa could speak German? Nellie giggled.
Even Mother was in a teasing mood. She paused from pouring the morning coffee just long enough to pronounce, “Ach, I remember the many years you did Matthias’s job, awakening us before sunrise on this most holy and festive of all holy days.”
“Still wrapped in your enchanting dreams?” asked Anastasia, with a conspiratorial wink. “Merry Christmas.”
Nellie woke up fully to the joy of an exotic orange, imported by her father all the way from Spain, peeking out of the top of her stocking. She held it appreciatively to her nose, sniffing the intoxicating citrus smell. “Papa, thank you,” she whispered to him. “You spoil us with such luxuries.”
“‘Tis a grand thing, ‘tis it no’?” asked James Entwhistle his face festooned with his broad smile. “’Tis a taste, a tang such as I couldn’t even dream when I was a wee lad in t’ old country.”
Matthias squealed in delight at the same time that Jonas jumped straight into the air. “A banana!”
“Hopping Horsefeathers! I received one too,” said Jerome.
“An ol’ orange wouldn’t do for three monkeys t’ likes o’ye,” said her father with a laugh.
Anastasia and Cornelia shared an orange, counting out the sections fairly so that they could save a whole unpeeled one for later.
Patrick, his wife Katrina, and their little girl Theodora, blew into the ballroom. There was a wild scramble of greetings and hugs. The three-year-old girl sprinted to the Christmas tree and crawled underneath, setting it rocking. Nellie’s sister-in-law ran over to pull her child out as the tree wobbled, the candles flickered and the precious ornaments trembled.
“Dora, love, be careful,” admonished Katrina.
Mrs. Entwhistle ignored the near miss, if one ignores Mutter’s hand clutching her heart, Nellie thought.
Her mother sang, “O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum, wie tru sind deine Blättern.” Everyone joined in, the melody wafting around them, wrapping them in the warm cozy feeling of family.
During the third verse and final chorus of O Tannenbaum, Nellie smoothed her stocking flat along her lap and found, to her surprise, a lump at the toe. She worked her hand through the stocking, careful to not further loosen any of the pulled threads on the inside, the only evidence of its years of hard labor.
Her squeal of joy interrupted the first stanza of Good King Wenceslas.
A tiny brooch lay wrapped in golden tissue paper. “Mutter, how precious!” she cried, jumping up to give her mother a hug.
Her mother smiled and returned her hug. “I agree,” she said. “Aber, but the brooch is not from your Papa and I. Our gifts for you are under the Tannenbaum.”
Nellie looked at the beautiful brooch with its pink enamel overlay of flowers on twisted knots of sterling silver. “Who has graced me with this perfectly precious gift? What magic conjured it here?”
“What does the paper say?” asked Jerome, tapping his head to show Nellie she should be thinking logically.
Right on the golden tissue-thin paper, written in Obadiah’s smallest handwriting, were the words:
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause
But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
Love sought is good, but given unsought better
~~~
For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where thou art not, desolation
Your Obadiah
“It’s from Shakespeare!” she said. Everyone laughed.
Jonas said, “Surely you would not have us believe Shakespeare sent you the brooch!” just as Matthias asked, “Isn’t Shakespeare dead?”
Everyone laughed again, with Mr. Entwhistle’s chuckle the loudest and longest. “Papa, your laugh is the merriest sound in the world,” said Anastasia.
Nellie could not help but agree. Her father’s laugh always made her feel happy, loved, and cozy. She clasped Obadiah’s words on the fragile gold paper to her heart. This kind of giddy romance is exactly to my liking!
Chapter 27 – Caught Between the Moon and New York City
Sing Sing, January 1851
The yuletide festivities always concluded on January 6th, with the Entwhistle’s annual Twelfth Day of Christmas ball. “‘Tis the Epiphany and the feast of the Holy Family,” intoned Mr. Entwhistle. “We’d best not lose sight o’ the solemnity o’ the occasion in the high spirits o’ the fancy soiree.”
Even though his admonition fell on deaf ears as Nellie and her sisters only talked about dancing, Mr. Entwhistle circled back to his theme at their morning breakfast after Mass on Holy Family Sunday.
“Ye hear
d Father O’Flaherty! ‘Wives be subordinate unto your husbands, as is proper in the Lord,’” he said. He looked at Mrs. Entwhistle with twinkling eyes as she bustled around the table, pouring tea. She just smiled at him in return, knowing he was warming up to his lecture. “‘Children honor thy parents, be obedient and attentive....’” he continued.
“’Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become downhearted,’” quoted Nellie right back.
Everyone laughed. Mr. Entwhistle made a chagrinned face. Nellie rose from her place at the table and ran over to give her father a big hug.
The soiree was in full swing, quite literally as the dancers twirled and turned to the ten-piece orchestra. Nellie gazed at the beauty of the gas-lit scene swirling in front of her as she swayed around the ballroom in her brother Jerome’s arms. Mutter has outdone herself, she thought in admiration. Even as her eyes wandered over the beautiful Christmas arrangements of pinecones, holly, and red satin ribbons interlaced with rare poinsettia pots, her feet stayed focused on dancing. In the year since she made her unofficial debut, she had not missed a single opportunity to employ every step leaned in dance lessons. Tonight was no exception.
Dancing a waltz, a polka, and a Virginia reel in rapid succession left Nellie overheated and Jerome breathless. An uninspiring concerto is a good time for refreshment, she thought to herself. She led Jerome to the sidelines, curtsied, and set him free to pursue his own romantic interests. I will only dally long enough to quench this thirst, she thought, trying to stem the perspiration spawned from her enthusiastic dancing.
Obadiah appeared at her side. “My fair lady.” He bowed. “Unsurprisingly, the belle of the ball.”
Nellie lifted her eyes from her crystal cup to him, appreciating anew his dashing appearance and ready smile. He bowed again, low over her hand, their eyes meeting over her fingertips as he kissed them. She dropped a cute little curtsey and he chuckled.
“You have charmed me completely,” he said, keeping her hand in his.
