by J. F. Collen
“Speaking of which, did you know that Captain Kidd’s treasure reputedly lies just a stone’s throw from here, just a skip up the river, in Annsville circle?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” said Obadiah. “In point of fact, I have made enquires of a certain Kidd Salvage Company, which runs sloops on Sundays to the site of the shipwreck off Dunderberg Mountain and then back across the river to Annsville Creek. I was thinking that perhaps just such a ride tomorrow would be the perfect way to celebrate the events of tonight.” Obadiah winked mysteriously.
Nellie looked confused. “You know I do love a good mystery, which of course is why I am all a twitter at the thought of exploring for Kidd’s treasure tomorrow, but what events of today would we be celebrating?”
Obadiah stopped right in the middle of the busy Upper Dock, caught her around the waist and spun her in front of him. She squinted into the brightness of the last vestiges of the colorful sunset.
When her eyes found Obadiah’s, her heart leapt into her throat.
“All right then,” said Obadiah. Smiling, he got down on one knee. “Now that the interruptions are over, and the whistle has sounded, you must hear the rest of my proposal. Cornelia Rose Entwhistle, will you do this man the greatest honor possible by giving me your hand in marriage?”
The sunset and the color-filled water danced before her. Obadiah squeezed her hand. Nellie smiled as without volition, tears of joy sprang to her eyes. “I too, am quite enthralled at the prospect.”
“Then tender your answer!” Obadiah chuckled. “So there can be no mistake.”
“Yes, yes! Most indubitably, most adamantly, yes,” said Nellie. Giggling and giddy, she leaned down to kiss him fully on his most receptive lips.
Obadiah kissed ardently in return, but kept his kneeling position. He drew back, after only a few kisses and cleared his throat, gazing up at her with loving eyes.
“Since I am favored with an affirmative reply—‘Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give,’” Obadiah said, slipping a brilliant garnet, reflecting, and flashing the red hues of the sunset’s last remnants of sunlight, onto her ring finger.
A ring and some Shakespeare! I have met my match. Nellie’s beam joined that of the ring and the sunset.
Chapter 34 – But Can We Still Be Friends?
Sing Sing, September 1851
“I refuse to be married in a warehouse, let alone the pill storehouse of Doctor Benjamin Brandreth! Why his own son, the odious George exchanged marriage vows in the glorious Trinity Church last month, with sunlight streaming through the stained-glass Tiffany windows, like a veritable blessing directly from God!” Nellie came just shy of stamping her foot. She was furious at the thought of a wedding among the pillboxes.
“Ach du Liebe!” said her mother. “Doctor Brandreth practically paid for that Trinity Church to be built in time for his son’s wedding. A rushed affair, all around—if you catch my innuendo.
“Our parish is still short the money required to even begin to build our new church, in spite of all of our best efforts. Gott im Himmel, even if they met their financial goals tomorrow, no new church could possibly be completed before January.”
Gertrude Entwhistle took a deep breath and continued her tirade. “Trinity is not a Catholic Church. You must exchange your sacred vows in a consecrated place. No daughter of mine will marry outside the Church. If we did not relax our standards to allow Agnes to marry in the multidenominational ‘Christian’ Chapel at West Point, we will certainly not permit it here at home. Therefore, we must arrange the journey to Saint Patrick’s Church in Verplank.”
“Good Lord, Mutter, even you will concede that the Episcopalian Church is a consecrated place,” Nellie said, crimson with annoyance.
“It must be a Catholic consecrated place,” said Mrs. Entwhistle, in her ‘do-not-have-the-audacity-to-argue-with-me’ voice.
“Like the warehouse even Papa declared to Father O’Flaherty was ‘not a proper house of worship at all’?” Nellie did not pause to allow her mother time to interject, nor did she pause for breath. “Like John and Bridget O’Brien’s house? Or the stone structure of indeterminate origin on Emwilton Place that many newly forming congregations of different faiths use? Since our Saint Augustine’s Parish still does not have a proper Church, and may be years away from having one, save Saint Patrick’s in Verplank, just a ‘short’ ten miles from here....” Nellie held up her hands with her ten fingers splayed. “...I propose we make a list of consecrated places that would be acceptable to you for the locale of the exchange of my vows of Holy Matrimony.” Nellie was practically breathing out steam by the time she finished.
Her father whistled. “Once again, me colleen w’ the touch o’ the blarney, winning us over! That speech was both eloquent and persuasive. Ye have afresh swayed me thinking. ‘T’will all be in front o’ the eyes of our Heavenly Father, just as our daily Mass at Bridget O’Brien’s, no matter what the venue be, Gertrude dear.”
Mrs. Entwhistle, however, was not ready to concede. “I will consult with meine Mutter and determine an acceptable Church.”
“It must be acceptable to me as well,” said Nellie, in a low voice. Her mother flashed her eyes at Nellie, but said nothing further.
“Perhaps we could use the United Methodist Church?” Anastasia ventured. “I am sure they would share. After all, until just a few short years ago that congregation was forced to gather either in Franklin Academy or that stone building to which Nellie just referred, until the Methodists built their own church on Spring Street.”
“Ach du Liebe,” exclaimed Mrs. Entwhistle again and threw up her hands. She turned and bustled out of the room.
“Et tu, Brute?” A chuckling Mr. Entwhistle ruffled Anastasia’s hair and laughed his way out of the room.
“Thank you, Anastasia,” said Nellie. “I so treasure your magnanimous support.”
“‘Tis not so very selfless,” Anastasia said, flashing a sly smile.
“Eureka!” said Nellie. “Do I hear a second set of Wedding Bells?”
Anastasia blushed. “While my Zetus surely is dash-fire, he plumb took his sweet time! It wasn’t that he was pigeon-livered. He was busy pursuing employment. First, he was overcome by his responsibilities as apprentice instructor at West Point. Once that was mastered, obtaining a full-time position preoccupied his thoughts....”
“But he has determined and declared his intentions?” Nellie asked.
Anastasia giggled again. “I knew his intentions a long time ago. After all, he gave me his spoony button. But yes, Instructor Searle has finally resolved to ask Papa for my hand.”
Nellie said, “If he had declared himself sooner, we might both be wed in January.”
“Do not fret,” said Anastasia. “If I have my druthers, our wedding vows will be exchanged next spring. I’ve always had my heart set on a June wedding. Further, with extra time for prodding and persuading, mayhap Mutter will agree to the Chapel at West Point this time! It will probably take Zetus until April to gather enough courage to inform his parents, way down south in Dixieland, of our matrimonial plans.”
“‘T ‘will take no courage to announce matrimony,” said Nellie. “Informing his family that he has decided to settle up here with us Northerners—that will require fortitude. How will he contrive to make the news palatable to his South Carolinian people?”
Struck suddenly with a terrible thought, all lightness left Nellie’s tone. “Unless you will be migrating south after the wedding?” she whispered, trembling.
“No, no, never!” promised Anastasia. “I plan to persuade Zetus to purchase the house next door to yours.”
Nellie heaved a huge sigh of relief. “May we always be as close geographically as we are in our hearts.”
Their father stuck his head back into the sewing room where they still sat. Their mother sailed right by him and sat down, immediately picking up her sewing. Taking the cue, both young ladies picked up their handiwork, and listened.
“I have
engaged a cook for the event,” said Mr. Entwhistle.
“Ach du Liebe, this will make trouble!” Mrs. Entwhistle waved her needle in agitation over her French Knots. “I do not want to hurt the feelings of our Hilda.”
Nellie almost giggled, in surprise. The stalwart cook Hilda with hurt feelings?
Anastasia leaned into Nellie’s ear, whispering, “I do not recall ever seeing any evidence that Hilda has feelings, except maybe the one of anger.” They both stifled a laugh.
“This chef comes recommended, with the highest of accolades. His many letters of commendation sing his praise,” Mr. Entwhistle said. He stepped into the room and handed his wife a neat stack of letters.
Mrs. Entwhistle took the offered bunch, but shook her head in the negative. “Hilda has been with us since Jonas was born. We cannot afford to lose her now—she has finally acquired the skill needed to assist me with baking the Viennese pastries of meine Mutter.” In spite of her words, Mutter fished her spectacles out of her pocket and perused the notes.
“My competitor in t’ shipbuilding business, Thomas Collier, has used this chef for his daughter’s wedding feast—his letter o’ recommendation for this fellow is somewhere in t’ bunch. Further, this cook has his own assistant and a crackerjack serving staff,” her father said. At his wife’s attempt to protest anew, he held up his hand and continued, “Which staff, ‘twill be sorely needed if ye intend to invite as many guests as I imagine ye will want....”
Papa’s eyes twinkled as he smiled down at his wife of many years, waiting for her to register the import of his words.
She extended her hand and grasped his. “You can be very persuasive. However, I am still not certain this will be a prudent expenditure....”
“I was careful to specify our food must be tasty and delicious. Why, ‘t would nary do to have it otherwise, since we’re surely spoiled by t’ likes o’ the victuals ye and Hilda always prepare,” he said. Another smile beamed upon Gertrude, then spread to his daughters. With his eyes still twinkling, Mr. Entwhistle hustled out of the room.
Nellie dropped her sewing and bounced over to the writing table. “I shall make a list of items we must ready for the wedding day.”
“Your father and I will plan the menu and have the food prepared,” said Mrs. Entwhistle, embracing the idea of a checklist. Nellie began recording items.
“Invitations,” said Nellie. “Let us begin at the beginning and invite the guests.”
“Flowers!” exclaimed Anastasia. “Even in January we must have some floral decorations and you simply must have a beautiful bouquet.”
“I dream of a bouquet of tulips, in all the colors of the rainbow,” said Nellie, hands clasped under her chin, smiling with a dreamy expression. “Do you think we could find a conservatory that grows tulips in the winter? Think of it, pink, purple, red, blue, and combinations of white with blush edges. Oh, it will be spectacular and exotic!”
“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Entwhistle. “While we may need to send to the city for an orangery with the right assortment of suitable flowers, your bouquet will consist only of white flowers.”
“But I have a penchant for color, In fact, on my wedding day I desire a veritable rainbow of flowers!” protested Nellie.
“Color in the bride’s bouquet? Tongues will wag,” Mrs. Entwhistle looked shocked.
“Mutter! Do not be silly! My dress is white. People will not be scandalized by my fancy for colorful flowers.”
“‘T would hardly be otherwise, Cornelia,” Mrs. Entwhistle said in that famous no-nonsense voice. “The rules of proper society are strict and unrelenting in this matter—a bouquet of flowers in any color but white is simply unsuitable. I will not have my daughter be the subject of raised eyebrows and innuendo. That is the end of the matter.” Mrs. Entwhistle folded her hands over her chest and Nellie knew it was senseless to argue further.
She hung her head, but then decided to make the best of it. Es macht nichts! she thought with a giggle. “Mutter, would you chose a resplendent bouquet for me? You do know flowers better than I and, as you have shown daily over the years, have quite the knack for beautiful flower arrangements.”
With satisfaction, Nellie observed her mother smile at her gracious demeanor. The conversation moved on to other details.
After luncheon, the postman arrived at the back door and handed Nellie the mail.
Alleluia! A note in Obadiah’s hand. But—addressed only to my parents? ‘Tis an unsettling surprise, she thought. An epistle as an emissary of good will is certainly appropriate and desired. But alas! No words for me?
Nellie had no further time to speculate for her father decided to read the letter aloud to the group at the lunch table.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Entwhistle,
As I finish my last semester at Yale University, I look forward in great anticipation to the next chapter in my life, with great expectations of happiness to come. The joy of completing my studies is eminent (and a relief; ‘twas with a heavy heart that I left my dear friends in Sing Sing a fortnight ago). I am entrusting all my bliss and the promise of my future, embodied in Cornelia Rose, to your able care for just a few short months more.
As I await the arrival of the most holy of seasons, the solemn and blessed Octave of Christmas, I am anticipating the richest gift of heaven—the hand of your daughter in marriage. The thought of at last making Cornelia Rose my wife ignites the light of a thousand hopes of our future joy together. This wedded bliss is the greatest bounty that a man could contemplate. I only wish my dear father, Senator Wright, had not so lately succumbed to the final fate that awaits us all....”
“...He would have to allude to our Jacksonian former Governor!” Mr. Entwhistle broke off his reading to growl. But from the smile that shone on his face, Nellie could see her father was only trying to lighten the seriousness of the mood.
“...Prior to his passing, I obtained his approval of my plans to pursue the hand of your daughter. Therefore, I am certain that my father would be most supportive of my decision to wed your lovely Cornelia Rose. He joined me in my appreciation of her many charms and talents, and I look forward to these same talents enchanting our life together.
If candidates for heaven can feel joy, I discern my beloved deceased mother participates in my happiness on this occasion as well.
I thank you from the deepest recesses of my heart for honoring my request for matrimony. I will strive to confirm and even surpass your faith in my ability to adequately provide for your daughter. Whilst you have given me the greatest gift of all, and its attendant joy, hope, and promise, all I can offer you in return is my undying filial loyalty. I am privileged to join your prodigious Entwhistle Clan and I pledge to add my honor and good name to propagate our new family’s greater good.
I count the days until I see you all again, and wish you all the joys of this harvest season, as well as continued blessings from Almighty God above for your entire household.
Your obedient servant,
Obadiah Weber Wright
“Well, sure ‘n begora, the lad has a tongue for the words,” said Mr. Entwhistle, wiping the corner of his eye.
“Perhaps we did not underestimate his abilities and strengths,” said Mrs. Entwhistle.
Is that a compliment? Nellie wondered. Is Mutter so very critical and so frugal in her accolades that she cannot welcome Obadiah with an open heart?
Forbearance, Cornelia! She told herself. She looked around at her family, all cozily gathered in the kitchen smiling, listening to Obadiah’s missive. This is not the moment to question Mutter’s feelings and motives—I must curb my tongue and await further opportunity.
She found her moment later in the day. When she ran down the back stairs from her nightly ritual of viewing the sunset from her garret window, her mother was alone on the second floor, completing some necessary mending before the natural light disappeared for the night.
Nellie burst into the room. “Mutter,” she said loudly.
Mrs. Entwhistle shoo
k her head with disapproval, without looking up. “Charging about like a washerwoman, bursting into a room as if you were about to empty a tub of dirty laundering suds. There is so little time left to ensure your proper ladylike comportment....”
Nellie came to a full stop in front of her mother, chagrined and chastised, and temporarily distracted from her mission. “Is deportment the sole virtue you exalt, Mutter? Do you not value other aptitudes besides proper posture, etiquette, and retaining one’s gloves?”
Her mother lifted her head and gave Nellie her all-too-well known puckered mouth stare. It is as if all the criticism she heaps upon the world upsurges from her heart, pulling in her lips before spewing forth, Nellie thought.
Nellie opened her own mouth to continue, but instead burst out laughing. “I had mentally formulated quite a fine soliloquy, to persuade you with my sincerity and my logic to overcome your negative feelings toward Obadiah and share my euphoria over my impending union to him. But I find that the happiness I derive from contemplating my future life with him obviates any necessity for you to join me in that state in order to maintain it.”
Mutter looked back down at her mending, without commenting.
“Well, perhaps I do still desire some expression of felicitation from you, Mutter,” Cornelia admitted, laying her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Would that be so taxing, so impossible for you to provide?”
Her mother remained silent, still bent over the camisole in need of repair.
“Do you not remember a time when my father’s love was so important to you, you were willing to proceed without your mother’s complete approval?”
