by J. F. Collen
Nellie took her seat at their small kitchen table and chattered away as she and her husband enjoyed their noontime dinner.
Suddenly, Obadiah pushed back his chair and declared, “I will not have my hard-earned money, nor my inheritance, frittered away on a matching suite of parlor furniture made by anyone, Julius Dessoir notwithstanding.” He stopped and assessed Cornelia’s thunderstruck look.
“Come, come, my dear bride, do not look so taken-aback! I am merely cognizant of conserving funds for our newly booked and ticketed honeymoon.” Obadiah’s face lit up in a huge grin.
Nellie shouted and leapt into his arms, bumping into the table, sloshing soup everywhere. Her surprise and joy erupted in fervent kisses.
“Come, come,” said Obadiah again, but this time with an entirely different tone in his voice. He disentangled himself from her arms. Nellie opened her mouth to protest, but Obadiah laughed. “I am merely being practical. If you carry on in this passionate manner, I will clean forget the subject of my communication!”
Nellie blushed bright crimson, but Obadiah did not notice, for he had taken her by the hand and lead her to their newly acquired couch.
“We depart Thursday next,” he began.
“But do you not have responsibilities with Judge Urmay?” Nellie interrupted.
“No. I have arranged for a sabbatical of two weeks’ time.” Obadiah rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. “To begin, I have booked tickets on the Hudson Day Line for a luxurious and leisurely cruise up your beloved Hudson River, to the flourishing town of Albany. At this destination...”
“How long do we stay?” interrupted Nellie again.
Obadiah laughed, and playfully clamped his hand over her mouth. “You are teasing us both with your constant interruptions! If I may be allowed to continue?” He looked at her with a mock severe look. “I promise I will quickly outline our agenda and then you can pepper me with all of the inquires you can contrive. Interrogate me to your hearts content. Here, look at the dossier I have prepared, you can see it is quite specific.”
Nellie examined the paper covered with Obadiah’s fine penmanship as he pointed out each delightful detail.
“People’s Line day cruise up the Hudson River, on the New World,” said Obadiah. He moved his finger to the next line.
“Two nights stay at Albany’s finest—the Mansion House Hotel, en suite breakfast, dinner, and dancing.” He tapped the next line.
“Sight-seeing in historic Albany, including a tour of the Orange improvements. At six o’clock on the nose, we set sail on our return down the Hudson on the most well-appointed and opulent of the Hudson Night Line Ships, crafted by our Sing Sing native shipbuilder, Thomas Collyer. We will be passengers on the Daniel Drew, dining in the finest of restaurants, dancing the evening away with the best band, retreating for a moonlit view of the Adirondacks, only to retire in the grandest suite money can buy, as we steam toward New York City.”
Nellie pressed her lips against Obadiah’s check, in delight.
“How is it that our fare is a mere fifty cents for our northward journey, and that we travel up the river on the People’s Line and return on the Hudson Night Line, you may ask?” Obadiah said playfully. “Why the now infamous Supreme Court case decided by our scholarly and constitutionally discerning Justice Mr. John Marshall has made this possible. Brilliantly argued by the great orator Daniel Webster himself, on behalf of Mr. Gibbons, and of course Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt, Gibbons versus Ogden holds that New York State had no authority to grant a monopoly of shipping rights to Mr. Ogden. Transport, and verily navigation itself, on the mighty Hudson River is interstate commerce, regulated solely by Congress. Therefore, my dear Lady, the free market reigns. The price of our ticket has been reduced due to the fierce competition for passengers, and we are free to buy one-way tickets without having to pay a penalty.”
Nellie was bursting with pride over this display of her husband’s acumen and knowledge.
“Your facility with the law is as impressive as your perspicacity!” exclaimed Nellie. “For this, my husband, I commend you with a single, laudatory kiss.” Nellie kissed Obadiah on the cheek and jumped up to curtsey low in front of him.
At his surprised look, she burst out laughing and sat down on his lap. This solitary kiss she followed with a flurry of excited kisses, sprinkling them all over his face, and ending in nibbling on his ear.
“I warned you!” growled Obadiah, kissing her fully and passionately on the mouth.
Nellie giggled, kissing him back.
A second later, the precious itinerary thrown carelessly on the floor, Obadiah swept her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom.
“Mercy! What of the agenda?” whispered Nellie into his neck with a laugh.
Obadiah laughing, responded by licking her ear and slowly sliding his tongue down her neck. He whispered, “This event has just been elevated to the top of the list as a pressing priority.”
Unwilling to resist the delightful shivers running down her spine at his touch and the fire flaming in her soul, Nellie turned her full attention to the passion welling within her.
CHAPTER 2 – No Ordinary Love
Sing Sing, March 1852
Nellie removed her boiled wool cloak and tossed it on the Dessoir sofa. Thank the Lord I took my heaviest cape!
“The wind whipping up the Hudson River was merciless tonight!” Nellie’s voice had a joyful lilt as she spoke to Obadiah, who knelt at the huge ornate fireplace, working to ignite the kindling. “It is quite fortuitous that the excellent captain, my brother Patrick himself, was at the helm, for surely our craft would have tossed and turned all the more with a lesser sailor steering in that wind.”
“A most chilling temperature for this time in March, I do concur,” responded Obadiah in a chipper tone, as he bent to his task. “Most unusual that we will need a fire for our evening repast.”
“Mayhap it is due to the house being empty for two nights while we luxuriated at the Astor House and hobnobbed among the elite at the theatre. Most gay socialites are we!” said Nellie, twirling around the room. Mercy I am weary! But what an excellent adventure we just concluded.
“It still tickles me when I think on our last night’s evening entertainment. The Niblo Opera House! How grand,” she continued. Nellie waltzed over to her husband and practically sang her effusive praise. “My handsome husband takes me for a sumptuous meal at the fine dining refreshment hall in the Niblo Saloon. After a most tasty and satisfying repast, I am treated to the theater’s finest entertainment.”
Nellie paused in her parading around the room and lowered her voice to a whisper for better dramatic effect. “Is this fine lady seen at an Italian opera? No. Mayhap an evening of song with famous singer Jenny Lind, or perhaps the more commonplace tones of the Hutchinson Family Singers? No. Only the highest society has the sophistication and taste required to appreciate the entertainment we viewed: A vaudeville act!” Nellie laughed out loud, and then plopped down on the couch in a most unsophisticated, vaudevillian manner.
“Shhhhh!” Nellie picked her head up off the couch, put her finger to her lips and leaned forward to again whisper. “Do not tell Mutter the grand Niblo Opera proffered a vaudeville act instead of an Italian Opera!” She plopped back down and laughed again, the merry melody of it overlaying the crackling of the now roaring fire. “We were party to a vaudeville act, in all its bawdy grandeur.” She shook her head, “Mutter will deem it a most inappropriate form of evening entertainment.”
Obadiah rose and in one long step, pulled her up from the couch and folded her into his arms. “I must make one fact certain in your mind,” he said. He drew his eyebrows together and assumed a very serious expression.
“Whatever troubles you!” exclaimed Nellie, pulling back from his embrace.
“Comedy and humor are never inappropriate!” he said and he threw back his head and laughed. His arms tightened around her. “Cornelia Rose, life is full of joy and mirth with you, my fair lad
y.” He kissed her with such ardor Nellie felt the now familiar tingles and thrills running from her lips to her nether regions. Obadiah opened his eyes and looked into hers. “Wherever in the world we are, I find my refuge in you,” he said, tucking her stray hair behind her ear and sliding his fingers tantalizingly down her neck.
“We are right here!” Nellie smiled back up at him. “In our cozy new home.” Obadiah leaned in, planted a kiss on her nose, scooped her into his arms and carried her into their bedroom.
“What of the fire?” whispered Nellie. “All your hard work for naught!”
“Later,” Obadiah whispered in her ear. “We will return to its dying embers. The fire, having done its duty, will have warmed the room, making the perfect venue for you to appear, wearing naught but your green velvet robe....”
“I could wear my gingham dress,” offered Nellie. Her sisters, Anastasia and Agnes, her friend Augusta, and even her mother shrieked in alarm.
“Gingham is never appropriate wear when on a honeymoon tour, neither day, nor especially, night,” counseled Augusta.
“Especially in June!” seconded Anastasia. The ladies sat in Nellie’s parlor, working on their embroidery.
Cornelia’s mother voiced her opinion. “You simply must have the dressmaker concoct two new dresses for your honeymoon trip. You’ll need a more fashionable day dress for travel. I cannot abide the thought of my daughter traveling on the People’s Line dressed in gingham much less than the thought of her at the theater in The City in a reworked gown.
“Furthermore, for the Hudson Night Line return trip evening of dining and dancing, as well as for the dancing at Coney Island, you must have something new to wear at night,” Mrs. Entwhistle decreed.
“But that will be too expensive. I can make do with re-trimming my organdy,” Nellie stated.
“Tsk, tsk, these are not the standards I raised you to uphold. Your sister’s husband has managed to keep her finely and stylishly dressed, in spite of the strain on the pocketbook their new baby has caused.” Mrs. Entwhistle’s speech strayed from direct to hurtful.
“Mutter!” exclaimed both Agnes and Anastasia.
Agnes said, “My husband, Mr. Long has been employed by the United States army as a civil engineer. It is a skilled profession a law clerk such as Mr. Wright can only aspire too.”
Leave it to Agnes’ acid tongue to make the affront worse! Nellie thought.
Anastasia made an attempt to salvage Nellie’s feelings, “My fiancé, Professor Searle is an exceptional scholar. He has been long established at West Point, where we will be standard bearers of polite society for the young minds we help to shape. You must not hold Cornelia to this same standard.”
Further insult? Nellie stood stock still, in the middle of her well-appointed but small sitting room, spirit crushed. This poor defense has cut even more deeply than Mutter’s original slight! Nellie thought. Hot words rose to her lips. “My husband is currently, and will be even more so, a great provider. Furthermore, I will be stylishly dressed, in my organdy russet gown, with reworked sleeves. And I will thank you all to say no more about it.”
Nellie glared at them defiantly.
Mother came over and gave her a hug. “I meant no disrespect to Mr. Wright. I am merely trying to uphold our family standards. When I was young, I permitted my mother to assist me in presenting myself to the world in a well-tailored manner, and I do wish you would allow me the same pleasure.”
Her three companions nodded and exclaimed in agreement.
Nellie softened. “Well, of course,” said Nellie, hugging her back. “I would welcome your aide.”
Her mother smiled.
“But there must be no further barbed insults, or I will simply wear my organdy with its old sleeves!” said Nellie, wagging her finger.
All the ladies laughed.
“Not so fast,” said Nellie glaring at Anastasia and Agnes.
“Oh Cornelia,” said Anastasia, wringing her hands. “I do get so flustered when Mutter makes an imperious command. I do not have the skillful facility with our language, as you dear sister! I must confess to often blurt words I do not quite mean in the heat of a moment only to find they are quite un-retractable.”
Nellie laughed at her sister’s display of remorse. She jumped out of her rocking chair, embraced Anastasia, and stared at Agnes.
Agnes just sniffed, and bent over her mending. “You must concede I remain exceptionally well dressed, in spite of having only recently ended my confinement.”
“Ach du Liebe,” said Nellie, “your baby is seven months old.”
“You will soon see how difficult it is,” said Agnes, hands on her hips, scowl on her face. Nellie let the subject drop, knowing full well Agnes had deliberately diverted the conversation to avoid apologizing for her dig at Nellie’s husband.
Augusta spoke up, “Tsk, tsk. A re-worked dress? Of organdy? It must be silk! That may suit for the theater, but at the Coney Island House resort, you will need an appropriate evening dress for dinner and dancing.”
Their mother agreed, “It shows a lack of comprehension of convenances.”
A thundercloud rose on Nellie’s face. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, all three of her companions and her mother offered her their own silk dresses. Nellie looked confused.
“Cornelia,” said Agnes, “Do not be prideful. Augusta has had her honeymoon, wearing fine gowns gifted and specially made for the purpose. I have several silk gowns from my trousseau I will not be wearing now that I am a mother. Anastasia is working on her hope chest as we speak. Allow us to share our bounty and rework these treasures for you, as was done for us.”
“Do not be so wasteful!” Augusta appealed to Cornelia’s practical side. “But for you, these fine silks could languish in a dark wardrobe awaiting an occasion which may never present itself.”
“The moths will be the only ones to enjoy it,” seconded Anastasia.
Nellie’s hand, plying a needle, arrested its path.
She looked around the sparse but beautifully decorated room and then out the window, contemplating the Hudson River while she automatically continued stitching the hem of her new sleeve. Her small but well-built house on lower Broadway in Sing Sing offered her a different perspective from her childhood view out her garret window in the Entwhistle’s large house on Main Street. From her sewing seat in her sitting room, her panoramic view swept past the trees on Colonel McAlph’s estate to the Upper Dock, across Miss Van Wyck’s more modest home, all the way to the side of the massive, architecturally intricate Brandreth factory building.
But she almost never dwelt on the land view. Her gaze was always drawn to the river. Today, the wind storm that helped push her brother’s sloop on their return from their foray into The City was still gusting, churning the water, making the river choppy. White caps atop brown muddy waters—not the most alluring look of this vista, she giggled. But ‘tis far cozier than the frozen palate of icy blues and greys that presented just over a fortnight ago! Further, the gay colors of the many ships’ many flags brighten the dreariness of the day and the pre-spring landscape. Even now, the retreating late afternoon sun warms a golden swath across the breadth of the river, she mused as she blinked in its bright, shimmering light.
“Ouch!” she pricked her finger, and searched in her sewing basket again for her missing silver thimble. It was stuck inside a knot of thread. She slipped it on. Eureka! Even if I am closing the barn door after the horse has left its stable, she thought. Tarnation, now I think like Mutter! Es macht nichts—just a tiny cloud in a life full of its silver lining.
What a marvel to be Mrs. Obadiah Wright, honeymooning with my sweetest of hearts, in the bosom of my hometown surrounded and supported by my loving family. Life is grand! Just as I always dreamed, working together for our common good by day...passionate kissing and wedded bliss at night! She finished her thought with a blush, a tingling of desire rising from her toes, even though, with his varying schedule, Obadiah might not be home
for several hours.
Wedded bliss, she smiled in secret delight and bent back over her stitches, pulling loose threads. After a few more minutes she adjusted the new gas light sconce near her chair to better see the tiny stiches in the final rays of the pale March sunlight.
The front door opened with a gust of wind. In two steps, Obadiah was at her side, scooping her up, burying his head in her neck, whispering, “How I have missed you!”
Nellie giggled, trying to keep her needle from jabbing him in the ear. “But I saw you at luncheon.”
“Too long ago,” said Obadiah. Nellie let her stitching drop. Obadiah was already sliding Nellie’s dress off her shoulder as they headed toward the fancy sofa.
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Acknowledgements
This series would not be possible without the wonderful support team I am fortunate to have!
Thank you to my team of readers: Anne Mulvey Lindstrom, Alicia Zeidan, Joan Smith Grey, Maryse Godet Copans, and Susanna Maher for taking time to read and give me your invaluable insights and your encouraging support.
To my family for all of the love, support, and positive feedback: Jess, Jocelyn, Abigail, Bennett, Alicia, Paul and Lauren.
Thank you, historians and librarians of Briarcliff Manor, Ossining, and West Point. You helped insure I could find and verify the details that tell the story.
And to my editor, Kimberly Goebel, for going above and beyond in her help to edit and tweak the books and bring me to Evolved Publishing.
~~~
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About the Author
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Jane Frances Collen has spent the last umpteen years practicing as a lawyer—but don’t hold that against her! She has made a career of protecting Intellectual Property, but at heart always wanted to be writing novels instead of legal briefs. She has written award-winning children’s books, “The Enjella® Adventure Series,” using fantasy as a vehicle for discussing the real world problems of children. She has tried to use her talent for storytelling for good instead of evil.
