by J. F. Collen
All other thoughts flew from Nellie’s mind as she yielded to the seduction of Obadiah’s lips. When his hand followed his lips, down her cheek, past her jaw, along her neck, diagonally across her shoulder, and landed lightly and teasingly on the Dresden lace at the top of her bodice, she marveled at how suddenly warm the day had become....
“Now compose yourself,” teased Obadiah. “We are back on Main Street and this wanton behavior must stop.”
Nellie opened her mouth to protest, but Obadiah closed it with a last, most satisfying kiss.
Upon their arrival at the top of the driveway, a cheer rose from the crowd of guests pouring out of the house’s entrance, welcoming the happy couple to their reception.
The wedding feast was quite the grand luncheon. The food smelled tantalizingly good and tasted delicious, just as her father requested.
Far too busy dancing and entertaining her guests, Nellie only sampled one tasty crumpet. She and Obadiah exchanged the requisite piece of wedding cake, but after only one bite, a throng of well-wishers interrupted her. Nellie hugged Midwife Rafferty, Dr. Hart, and new relatives from Obadiah’s family in turn, leaving the rest of her cake on the table.
All too soon, the weak winter sunlight faded from the dance floor. Nellie breathlessly turned from a Virginia reel to kiss Grandfather Pffernuss goodbye. His departure, she knew, signaled the time for her exit. She ran up the back stairs for one final glimpse of her old garret room (and to make sure her cases were loaded in the sled), made a quick trip to the “necessary” and skipped back to the main stairway in a farewell tour of the upstairs parlors.
Nellie floated down the center hall stairs, like a princess descending from her castle chamber, into the throng of admiring guests. Joined by Obadiah, they began saying their goodbyes. Poised and gracious, Nellie thanked each and every guest for attending, as she embraced them in farewell hugs. She cherished the bountiful congratulations and blessings heaped upon her. With tears in her eyes, but with a light happy heart, Nellie made sure to spend a minute with every one of her sisters, brothers, in-laws, niece, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends as they made their way through all of the festivities to the front door.
She caught her mother in a happy embrace, turning Mrs. Entwhistle away from instructing a footman to pour more champagne. “Mutter, I cannot ever thank you enough for this sumptuous feast and magnificent celebration, let alone for the lifetime of love and care you have given me.”
Her mother held her in her arms and said, “I know you will do the same for your own children. That will be my appreciation and reward.” Nellie pulled back in surprise, but her mother laughed and said, “You know well that is your next responsibility. Yet, I must tell you directly—your accomplishments to date, while unsought and unexpected by me, fill me with happiness and pride.”
Nellie blushed and hugged her hard.
She turned and her father caught her into one of his signature hugs. “Oh Papa,” she said, “I thank you....”
“Hush now, Nell o’ me heart,” he said into the top of her head. “‘Tis one time when yer words are not required. Yer ready to face the world with a fine young gentleman, but you’ll always have a home with me.” Her father gave her one more squeeze and then turned her to the door. Behind her, Obadiah shook her father’s hand, as Nellie blinked at the guests lining the stairs of the Entwhistle mansion into the street.
Cornelia Rose and Obadiah ran through the barrage of rice into the frosty air, and tumbled into the waiting sleigh.
In less than a minute, they were waving at the tail end of the smiling, cheering crowd, headed down to the Westerly Avenue Dock to take the evening steamboat into The City.
Tonight, the Astor House! In the spring, a honeymoon trip via luxury steamer to Coney Island Resort. Nellie gave Obadiah’s hand a squeeze.
So much to anticipate, so much to delight.
Snow crunched under the sleigh’s runners. The horse snorted in the cold. Wrapped snugly in a crimson shawl and Obadiah’s warm embrace, Nellie looked up at him with quiet joy. “I love you so dearly, Obadiah,” she whispered.
“You have made me the happiest of men,” he whispered back.
“Our lives will be a grand voyage filled with ecstasy and excitement,” she said, her smile growing even bigger.
She nestled back into his arms, eagerly anticipating the trip ahead.
—-THE END—-
But... don’t stop here. Please keep reading for more, including our Bonus Content—a Book Club Guide, an Interview with the Author, and not just one, but two Special Sneak Previews:
PIONEER PASSAGE by J.F. Collen
and
BEHIND THE OPEN WALLS by Lanette Kauten
Book Club Guide
1. What excites you about history? What are your favorite types of historical sites?
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2. Have you ever been part of an historical event like the true historical event of the ceremonial opening the Croton Aqueduct?
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3. Which characters resonated with you? Do you have an “Agnes” in your life?
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4. The relationship of Cornelia with all of her family is at once impatient and forgiving. Which of the characters personality traits do you find particularly trying?
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5. Midwives were the exclusive deliverers of babies until doctors figured out how lucrative the business could be (two chickens for delivering a boy!). Discuss the ‘home remedies’ proffered and their efficacy in modern times.
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6. Christian camp meetings such as the one described were common at that time, all over the United States. Discuss how one’s faith was a central part of community at that time and dictated more than just where someone worshiped.
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7. Compare the home remedies created by the Midwives and Cornelia to the similar salves and home remedies in Tara Westover’s Educated, which is a contemporary memoir.
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8. Benny Havens’ is a real tavern that welcomed West Point cadets and the actual old tavern has been relocated to Highland Falls, almost directly across from West Point’s main gate. Discuss the antics of the various characters seen there.
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9. At West Point, Cornelia meets the famous editor and author, William Cullen Bryant, part of the Knickerbocker school. Whom from the 1850s would you like to meet at a West Point tea?
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10. The British ship Vulture’s launching of a cannonball that went right though a tombstone in Sparta in 1812 is a true historical event. Discuss how Obadiah and Nellie perceive it. Are there any historical markers where you live? Does your community host any events commemorating local history?
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11. The social mores at the time were very restricting, yet how many ways can you identify that Cornelia Rose attempts to shape her own destiny?
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12. Were you happy with whom Cornelia Rose finally chose to marry?
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Please keep reading for....
Interview with the Author
Q. What is it about the lore and history of the Hudson River Valley in New York that inspired you to write Flirtation on the Hudson?
A. Its pervasiveness! Traces of the history of this area abound, waiting for the observant viewer. Hints sigh from old trees and mountains. Whispers of peoples’ stories emanate from old paths, walks and buildings, and clues are found in the cryptic verse on tombstones and monuments.
I live in an area imbued with history and the romantic in me wanted to walk in the shoes of the first occupants of the buildings and woods I enter and see the earlier version of this area, just to feel what life would have been like in that time.
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Q. Does writing energize or exhaust you?
A. Energize definitely! When I finally give myself permission to abandon all my other responsibilities and sit down to write—three hours go by in a heartbeat and I find I am late for the next thing on my schedule. Hap
piness is—writing all day!
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Q. How about the research?
A. I have cherished the time I have spent, retracing the footsteps of my heroine. I have walked the streets of Sing Sing (now Ossining - a different transliteration of the Native American Sinct Sinct) New York gazing in wonder at old buildings, picturing Cornelia Rose there. I have strolled the Old Croton Aqueduct, and the double arches of Sing Sing many times, feeling Cornelia Rose and Obadiah promenading arm in arm next to me.
I have also frequented West Point, both as a giddy teenage girl going to the weekly “Hops,” (the current name for the cotillions) and as a friend visiting cadets attending the Academy. I visited the campus often while writing this book. The museum outside the gates was invaluable—I even found a map of the Academy from 1860, only slightly off my time period. I have researched, using all platforms—books, libraries, online, walking tours, anything to make sure my story was historically correct.
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Q. Are any characters in Flirtation on the Hudson real people?
A. Yes, many: the superintendents at West Point, all of the named cadets, some of the townspeople, shop owners and officials in Sing Sing, and of course William Cullen Bryant and Benny Havens. I have found some great names in the history books of Sing Sing and West Point and snippets of those people’s stories. I have taken liberties with the few biographical facts I found, and woven real people into my fictitious characters’ drama hence—historical fiction.
An example is that at West Point, the museum of class rings includes Armistead L. Long’s actual ring from the class of 1852. I am not sure he actually used it as an engagement ring, but it makes a good story!
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Q. How accurately do you depict this time period?
A. Other than the personal events in the novel, all of the historical events actually took place at the stated time. This was often hard to work into the novel—for example, I wanted Cornelia Rose to stay at the Thayer Hotel at West Point, but it was not built yet. I wanted her to attend Superintendent Thayer or even Superintendent Robert E. Lee’s tea but the story timeline just could not be altered to have Cornelia visit while either one of these great men were superintendents.
Even some of the fictitious conflicts in the story were constrained by historical facts—for example, I wanted Agnes to suffer her broken arm from a bicycle ride gone awry, and Jonas to fall off his unicycle—but bikes hadn’t yet been invented!
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Q. Do you want each book to stand on its own, or are you trying to build a body of work with connections between each book?
A. Can I say both? My goal is the story as a whole, but also that the books can be read out of ‘order’ or simply as ‘stand alones.’ I don’t want any reader to feel they can’t pick up one of the books and begin reading without reading the others. That seems to constraining to me.
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Q. From where did you draw your inspiration for the series?
A. I come from a big, close, very loving family who focused on education, hard work, and culture, as my husband and I have done with our four children. As a lifelong student of history, I wanted to create characters set in a romantic period of time with modern day dilemmas so readers of today could feel what it was like to live in the 1850s.
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Q. What’s next?
A. Cornelia Rose moves out West, but any more than that you will have to get from Book 2!
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Please keep reading for....
Special Sneak Preview
Pick right up with PIONEER PASSAGE, the second book in this series.
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Pack up and leave her home? Never see the broad Hudson River, which flows both ways past her sitting room window, again? Eschew the glories of New York City and the wonders of the 1850s modern technology, and head out to unknown territory in the Wild West?
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Please enjoy the Special 2-Chapter Sneak Preview we offer below, or....
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GRAB THE FULL EBOOK TODAY!
FIND LINKS TO YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER HERE:
THE JOURNEY OF CORNELIA ROSE Series at Evolved Publishing
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Please keep reading for....
CHAPTER 1 – When We Get Behind Closed Doors
Sing Sing, February 1852
“Ouch!”
Startled by a loud thud on her front door breaking the quiet of the late morning, Cornelia pricked her finger on the needle she plied in the sock dangling over her darning egg. Tarnation that smarts! she thought, putting her finger in her mouth. Is that a foot banging on my door? She sprang to the entry hall and opened the heavy front door. The posterior of a workman greeted her. Bent over a large object, the man backed his way onto the newly created opening, snow and mud dropping from his dirty work boots onto her rug.
“Mercy! What is this?” asked Nellie, forced to step aside, and flatten herself against the wall.
“Es macht nichts!” Her mother’s authoritative voice floated, over the velvet upholstered furniture two men carried, to Nellie’s ear squashed against the wardrobe’s door.
“I have purchased this settee designed by the acclaimed Prussian furniture maker, Julius Dessoir....” Mrs. Gertrude Entwhistle said as her stout figure filled the doorway at the tail end of the sofa. “...To complement the carved rosewood armchairs you inherited from your Aunt Elizabeth Dowling. Consider it my little gift to the newlyweds.”
“Another gift among so many?” Nellie reached her arms to hug her mother, but the woman charged through the alcove so briskly, the gesture became a mere pat on the shoulder.
Nellie followed her into the formal room. “I do so adore the carved birds and flowers that adorn the sofa’s lavish Louis XIV’s form,” she gushed. “What a stylish parlor you have helped me fashion around our extravagant marble fireplace!” She rushed over to the sofa the workmen already centered between her chairs in front of the fire. Nellie forced herself to ignore the trail of dirty footprints, and admire the intricately wrought figures in the curved rosewood back and arms of the sofa.
“Now you simply must purchase the sideboard and étagère to complete the suite,” proclaimed her mother; arms crossed scanning the bare walls of the parlor.
One of the workmen leaned, adjusted the carpet under the couch and straightened, a groan escaping his lips.
“Mr. McNamara,” cried Nellie. “What ails you?”
“Jist me back,” he said. He smiled, lighting up his broad, wrinkled, Irish face. “‘Tis a occupational hazard, ‘tis.”
“I have just the thing! Tarry a moment, please!” Nellie ran to the larder. “Midwife Rafferty and I have perfected the recipe for a poultice for muscle strain: mustard seed stirred into rye and boiling water.” She was back in a whirl of petticoats and handed him a white parcel, neatly folded.
“You must dip this entire packet, bound in the linen, in boiling water, just until it is warmed through, and then place it on the aggravated area,” Cornelia prescribed.
Mr. McNamara took it with his thanks. “I know’d from da moment I saw ye, a wee colleen, hanging around yer Da diggin’ o’ the Aqueduct, way back in ‘42: yer were a Lady and there warn’t no flies on ye. Sure n’ begora, I could tell ye had t’ markings, Ye must be the apple o’ yer proud fadder’s eye! Right capable ye are.”
Nellie blushed and gave a little curtsey. “Give my best regards to your wife, and that whole brood of McNamaras you call your children! Talk about reminiscing—why I was there assisting Midwife Rafferty when the last one of them was born!”
“Mebbe not the last,” said Mr. McNamara and gave a wink. Nellie’s blush deepened at his implication. Quite the droll rogue! she thought.
The men turned to leave, wiping their feet on the doormat on their way out!
Nellie laughed outright.
Obadiah entered, wiped his feet, and approached the parlor. He greeted both women with a perfunctory kiss. He fixed his look on the sofa,
his aspect betraying disapproval.
“To whom do we owe the debt of gratitude for this marvelous piece of furniture?” he asked, forcing a smile on his face.
“I decided you simply must have a Dessoir settee to create the appropriate ambiance in your parlor,” said Mrs. Entwhistle.
Obadiah took her hand and bowed over it. “I thank you most appreciatively. We will be the most fashionable newly-weds in town. A luxurious sofa in our humble abode will cause the entire dwelling to aspire to further greatness.”
Mrs. Entwhistle looked a bit confused, but Nellie laughed.
“Mutter, you must acclimate yourself to Mr. Wright’s sense of humor! There are few men in existence as witty as my new husband.”
Now it was her mother’s turn to look disapproving.
Obadiah quickly tried to make amends. “It is truly most generous of you and Mr. Entwhistle. We will cherish our moments reposing on such a fine piece of furniture,” he said.
Obadiah coughed. “I have but a short time for my noon repast....” He bowed and turned toward the hallway. “If you will pardon me for my hasty retreat to the kitchen?”
“Tarnation!” said Nellie, picking up her voluminous skirts and scurrying past her mother into the kitchen.
“Be mindful of your language Cornelia. Have you still not broken yourself of that vile habit? Most indecorous....” her mother said, clicking her tongue.
Nellie gave her mother a quick but enthusiastic hug and a warm kiss on her way past.
Mrs. Entwhistle called, “I will see you anon at Mass on Sunday. Do not neglect to bring the sauerkraut for our family Sunday dinner! It is your responsibility this week. We expect twenty-two of us there, not counting Agnes’ new little one, of course. Be sure to simmer it until the cabbage is soft and succulent—not crunchy! The last time I had your sauerkraut it was a little too al dente for me.
“And mind, do not forget we depart for the theater promptly at noon on Saturday next. Good day to you both!”
In the kitchen, already ladling oxtail soup, Nellie risked further disapproval from her mother by shouting, “Fret not, Mutter, I will willingly comply with your detailed instructions. Goodbye!”
