“This is Olsen, my head gardener,” Garland said, turning back to us. “He’s going to have a lot to do with the setup out here. Olsen, this is my fiancée, Corrine, and her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Dixon.”
He nodded and struggled to say, “Plea . . . sed to . . . m . . . eet you.”
Garland smiled. “Olsen was in a bad accident when he was twelve. The buggy his father was driving turned over. He was under it for hours, with the heavy weight on his chest, but he’s overcome all that when it comes to running my grounds. He’s a genius at it. I hired him when he was only fourteen, three years ago, right, Olsen?”
“Ye . . . yes, sir,” Olsen said.
“I’ve been said to have a good eye for help,” Garland bragged.
“Can’t be a leader without that ability,” my father said.
They walked on, with Olsen trailing behind and nodding at every suggestion and command either Garland or my father uttered about the grounds preparation.
“I think I need some rest,” my mother called to them after a while. She never liked walking in the sun without an umbrella, but she did look tired, even aged, by our journey.
They stopped and turned.
“By all means, Rosemary,” my father said. “We’re here two days. There’s time to learn it all.”
“I doubt that,” my mother muttered under her breath. She looked at me.
“Go on,” I said. “I’m not tired yet, Mother.”
She was probably returning to the house to get more of a tour and information anyway, I thought. Poor Mrs. Steiner.
I watched her return to the French doors, and then, seeing that my father and Garland were in a deep conversation with Olsen beside them, his head down, all of them continuing on, I turned and started in the opposite direction. This was my wedding, too, I thought again. I should be at their side, and they should be looking to hear my opinions. Right now, it was as if I wasn’t here.
Rather than chase after them, I decided to see the lake.
It really hadn’t struck me yet that this was all to be my new home and I would be the mistress of it. I wasn’t even thinking about my pregnancy anymore, either. Since the early days, I had been lucky and experienced little, if any, discomfort, certainly nothing that my mother would notice. Being lazy and tired was my middle name, according to her.
But could I be lazy and indifferent here, even with a small army of servants? Actually, like my mother, I still had most of the house to explore. I was hoping that Garland would reserve time for some of that when we were alone. As we walked about the rooms and outside together, he would spin the story of his youth and his family, and I would truly get to know him. It was something I had to do very quickly now. At the moment, long romances were fables only recited in novels. My hope was that our marriage would be a long romance.
Today was a perfect day for romance. I wished that Garland and I were alone, that my parents weren’t here, and we perhaps could picnic somewhere on the property that was always special to him, perhaps down here by this lake. I was eager to hear what it was like to grow up among all this.
I found a little knoll and sat to look out over the water, where two wood ducks were waddling up and down a dead log. A rowboat was tied to the small dock, and two sparrows were posing on the edges as if they owned it all, the boat, the lake, and the property. It made me smile.
I leaned back to let the warm sun wash over my face. The grass felt cool on my neck. It was a nearly cloudless sky, with just a gentle breeze barely stirring the leaves on the trees. A flock of geese was flying farther north. I rarely appreciated my natural surroundings, I thought. Here, perhaps, it was staring me in the face, daring me to ignore it. You can’t embrace Foxworth Hall if you don’t embrace me, Mother Nature was saying.
Really, where am I? I wondered. What has happened to me? Am I going to wake up tomorrow morning in my own bedroom back in Alexandria and realize it’s all been a long dream? Too many wishes can get knotted up and make it impossible for any to come true.
I closed my eyes.
I think I fell asleep for quite a while, because when I opened my eyes, Garland was standing there, smiling down at me, his hands on his hips and a wide smile over his lips. I sat up quickly, expecting my father to be nearby, too, but he wasn’t.
“You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. I caught a glimpse of you walking in this direction,” he said. “But I couldn’t just leave your father. He is definitely a details man. He went in for a nap, too. Thankfully.”
“I could have helped you with him, but you didn’t seem to care whether I was there or not,” I said.
“Of course I care, we care. I know how overwhelmed you can get, and I don’t want you to be extra nervous. After all,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, which, seeing where we were, was overly dramatic, “you’re in a very delicate state at the moment, Corrine. However . . .”
“What?”
“I saved this to show you first.”
He unbuttoned his shirt, reached in, and came out with a pink envelope. He handed it to me and sat beside me.
I opened it slowly and took out the wedding invitation.
The words YOU ARE INVITED were written over the Foxworth crest he had shown me in the carriage that first night. I opened it and read: Mr. and Mrs. Harrington Dixon and Garland Foxworth invite you to the marriage of Garland Neal Foxworth to Corrine Beatrice Dixon on the twelfth of August, one thousand eight hundred and ninety, at 2 o’clock p.m., Foxworth Hall, Charlottesville, Virginia. Reception to follow.
“Simple but sweet, huh?” he asked.
“It’s only ten days from now!”
“They are being hand-delivered to the guests on the list as we speak. Most will have them by late today. Whoever can’t come will be sorry,” he said. “As you know too well, we can’t wait much longer.”
“But my wedding dress?”
“You’ll be measured for it tomorrow. The dressmaker has been summoned to Foxworth Hall.”
“Measured? I haven’t chosen one.”
“My mother’s will be perfect. It’s still quite in style, and as I have said, you are remarkably similar. Besides, why bother you with such details now, Corrine? It’s the dress I’ve always envisioned for my bride anyway. You will look absolutely beautiful.”
“But—”
“Besides, I’ve always thought wedding dresses were silly. You wear it only once and then put it in some carton or hang it way back in a closet and never look at it again. My mother’s was quite expensive. It is very similar to the wedding dress Queen Victoria wore when she married Prince Albert, a white satin dress. I’ll give you my mother’s jewelry to wear, and if I’m not mistaken, you are about the same shoe size.”
“That’s not going to be a fashionable dress, a dress in today’s style,” I said.
“It will be perfect, and you’ll look beautiful,” he declared, his voice raised. He sounded like some Moses announcing commandments.
I simply stared at him. He looked away and then turned back, smiling.
“Anyone would think you’d be grateful to have all this taken care of for you so quickly, especially in light of the time we have. I don’t want you worrying about anything for the entire period of this pregnancy. I didn’t want to say it in front of your parents, but I hired Dora Clifford to be your personal maid from now on.”
“What do you mean? We don’t want someone hovering over me right now.”
“No worries. She knows about your . . . condition, as does Mrs. Steiner. It would be the height of folly to try to fool my servants who will see you daily. Now, I know how concerned you’ll be about your figure, your looks. My mother was the same. So I’ve arranged for you to have a wet nurse when the baby is born.” He smiled. “I don’t want those beautiful breasts toyed with, even by my own child.
“I’ve also arranged for the doctor who will come out here to deliver our baby when the time arrives. He’ll visit periodically to be sure you’re doing well. Also, when it�
�s no longer possible to hide what you have in store from anyone who visits, we’ll get you the prettiest maternity clothes made, even if we have to travel to New York City to get them. Okay?”
“I suppose,” I said. Did I have a moment to take a breath? I was back in that rushing stream, that current my father had described. I couldn’t decide to swim faster, because I couldn’t go any faster.
“Now, I’ve spoken with your father about your leaving, and he agrees you shouldn’t. There’s too much to do here.”
“What? Shouldn’t I leave?”
“Your parents will leave the day after tomorrow, and you’ll stay. Don’t worry about clothes. I will open my mother’s closets to you, and the same dressmaker who does your wedding gown will come out to adjust anything you want.”
“But her clothes are . . .”
“What?”
“Old,” I said.
He laughed.
“She’s been dead for years, hasn’t she?”
“Some of the garments were worn only once. Most of it looks brand new. I think there are things with tags still on them, in fact.”
“But it’s not today’s fashion.”
“Oh, again with fashion. Don’t worry about it. After you give birth, we’ll buy you an entire new wardrobe, and you can buy some new clothes now, too. That’s a . . . a given truth,” he said, and stood. “It will be so wonderful having this time alone before our wedding. It will be like an early honeymoon, and what better place to enjoy one than Foxworth Hall?”
He didn’t give me a chance to offer an opinion.
“We should start back. You’ll want to freshen up for tonight’s dinner.”
He reached for me, and I gave him my hand. When he pulled me up, he embraced me and then kissed me. Smiling wryly, he said in a loud whisper, “Once your parents are gone . . . don’t worry. No limoncello,” he said, and laughed.
He held my hand all the way back to the house, describing what he and my father had discussed about my wedding. I couldn’t help feeling like I’d be one of the guests. Not once did he ask, “How’s that sound?” or “Is that okay with you?” The only choice I could think was left to me was who, if anyone, would be a bridesmaid. Of course, I thought about Daisy first and then wondered how she would react to learning I was going to be married in ten days. People, if Garland was right, were receiving the invitations this very moment and would soon be talking about it. Everyone at home would know. If I remained here, Daisy wouldn’t be able to ask me any questions. Maybe that was good.
“I want to send a telegram to my best girlfriend and ask her to be my bridesmaid,” I said.
He paused and thought, as if what I was asking was a very big thing.
“What?” I said.
“I’m not putting up any guests at Foxworth Hall, not even distant cousins. I’m arranging for carriages to be available at the train station on the day of our wedding, and your father and I will have a special train scheduled to leave at ten in the evening for Alexandria so your parents’ guests can easily attend and go home. It’s expensive, so we have contracted for only two passenger cars for this special edition.”
“What does that have to do with my maid of honor?”
“We’ll have to check to see how many guests they have invited so no one will be without a seat.”
“I should have a maid of honor, Garland.”
“And that will mean her parents, I’m sure. That’s three people, three more seats.”
“Who else would be my bridesmaid? Daisy Herman is my best friend.”
“Another sixteen-year-old? You don’t look your age, but surrounding yourself with girls that age . . . think of the way that will look. Why have people wondering and gossiping about us?”
“But no maid of honor?”
“I was thinking Dora would be quite honored to do it,” he said. “You understand what I’m saying. You want to leave your childhood friends behind now anyway, Corrine, don’t you? You’ll probably rarely, if ever, see them again, and you’re far more sophisticated. It will be years before any of them will have things in common with you again, if ever.”
“But Dora’s a servant.”
“No one really knows who she is, which is good. She can handle it. No worries. Mrs. Steiner will see to her needs so she looks proper.”
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but I turned to look back as if I had heard a roll of thunder. All the birds had left the lake, and the shadows from the sun dropping in the west had grown and widened, casting a dark silver sheet over the water. It looked like ice.
He tugged on my hand. “C’mon. I want to tell you more about the plans for the wedding reception. Guess what we’re going to have to practice?” he said, as we entered through the French doors.
“The waltz?”
“Exactly. It’s an important wedding dance. See? That’s another reason I want you to stay until the wedding and, of course, forever after that. We’ll practice in the ballroom. I bought a brand-new Edison phonograph with a cylinder that has waltz music so we don’t have to have an audience watch us practice. And occasionally, I’ll have a pianist on my new piano playing for us. How’s that?”
I nodded. He did seem to be thinking of every little thing.
He opened the study door and stepped back. “Now, go get some rest, my darling girl. Look at all you’ve done today, and we’re going to have a wonderful dinner. Mrs. Wilson has prepared your parents’ favorite, larded sweetbreads with peas.”
“I detest that,” I said.
He stared at me. “Your mother never said . . .” He grimaced. “Don’t worry. I’ll have her prepare some chicken for you. Now, as I said, with all you’ve done today . . .”
“All I’ve done?”
“The traveling in your condition and . . .” He looked to his left, as if he wanted to be sure no one was listening. “And the act we both performed for your mother. I know you were tense throughout. That’s why you fell asleep on the grass back at the lake,” he said, as confident as someone who knew everything. “Now, go rest and freshen up. Dora will be attending you, and there will be a surprise in the room for tonight.”
I looked at him suspiciously. “Surprise?”
“Just go up and see,” he said. He stepped back and, even before I took a step in the hallway, closed the door.
For a few moments, alone in this still strange, immense house, I froze. When would this feel like home to me? Could this ever feel like home to me? Foxworth Hall was filled with rugs and drapes, bedrooms with comforters and blankets, but as I looked about at the tall ceilings, angry ancestors peering down as if anyone who entered was violating their sanctity, and the cold statues, I thought about my own bedroom at home, in which I slept so comfortably, feeling safe and cuddled by its warm walls and familiar scents.
Yes, I was about to become the wife of one of the wealthiest young men in Virginia, and I would live in and be mistress of a home big enough to be called a castle, but would I be happy? I couldn’t even brag to my best friend. As far as she would be concerned, I had disappeared off the face of the earth. Was I about to?
I walked slowly to the stairway. Somewhere deep inside the manor house, someone was making noise that sounded like the movement of furniture. Every sound echoed in this home, I thought. I heard the clanking of pots and pans off to my right, and through an opened window, I caught the sound of men talking as they worked on the stage. Everything that was happening here now was happening because of me. And yet I didn’t feel proud or smug about it. I felt a little frightened, and I didn’t really know why.
In fact, as I headed up the stairway, I could sense the trembling inside me. Was that simply because I was pregnant? When I turned to head toward my “quaint” bedroom, I listened for my parents talking but heard nothing. They were both probably asleep. I did need a good rest and then, hopefully, a warm bath. Dora would see to it, I was sure.
I turned into my bedroom. She was standing there by the closet, stroking a dress that hung in the d
oorway as if she was stroking soft, beautiful hair. At her feet was a bustle. She turned quickly when I entered and smiled. She started to curtsy, too.
“Stop that,” I said. “I’m not some princess.”
She instantly lost her smile.
“What is that . . . thing?”
“It’s the dress Mr. Foxworth wanted me to prepare for you tonight.”
I approached it slowly, and she stepped away.
“There’s enough material here for four dresses,” I said. I nodded at the bustle. “I’ve never worn one of those. They’re not in style now.”
She looked at it and then at me with a blank expression.
“I think I’d suffocate in this,” I added, lifting the material. “It weighs a ton.”
The dress had an overskirt draped to an apron front and a full flounced underskirt with full petticoats. There were multiple layers of ruffles and flounces.
“I’ll wear something else, one of my own things. Take it out of here, and that thing, too,” I said. “Actually, they smell like clothes stored for ages in some dank closet.”
“Mr. Foxworth was keen on your wearing it,” she said. It sounded like a warning.
“Dora, is it?” Of course, I knew her name, but I wanted to impress her with my clarity and demand.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let me say it in stark, clear English. Take it out. I’m not wearing it.”
She moved quickly to gather it up. Carrying out the bustle as well made it awkward. I almost laughed when she looked back. The moment she stepped out, I closed the door.
What was it Garland had said? “You want to leave your childhood friends behind”? They had nothing in common with me now?
Well, maybe that’s true.
I will be the mistress of Foxworth Hall. I will especially surprise my mother.
I lay down on the bed to get some rest, with defiance embracing me.
But when I closed my eyes, I didn’t see myself strutting like a peacock through the halls of the manor house.
Beneath the Attic Page 19
