A Most Excellent Love
by
Becky McQuaig
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY
Becky McQuaig on Smashwords
A Most Excellent Love
Copyright @ 2010 Becky McQuaig
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CHAPTER ONE
It was a disparaging scene. Neither my anguish nor my disbelief could be concealed. With tears rushing from my eyes, I tried to comprehend the magnitude of the devastation I beheld. As I looked out the window, in the light of early morning, I felt my heart would not be able to bear it.
The previous night had wrought the most terrifying storm the town had seen in years. I recall my eyes involuntarily blinking with each flash of lightning. The howling wind, whistling through the trees, sounded like a hurricane, and the reverberation of the thunder vibrated my very bones. Even now, I shiver when I think about it. The thunderous resonance of that night made me envision the devil’s army marching on the rooftop. It felt like pure evil was descending down upon me.
Nevertheless, at the age of sixteen, I was persuaded that I was fully a woman. Having been taught young women of proper upbringing remain dignified and calm in a crisis and do not run around in the manner of a chicken with its head chopped off, I defied my strong inclination to scream out loud and run to my mother’s bedchamber.
It would have been the perfect time to faint, had there been a handsome young man around to catch me. But, since there wasn’t, I hid under my bed covers, clutching my pillow, listening to my heart pound like a big bass drum. I was determined to courageously wait out that awful storm.
After a while, things quieted down. The rain and wind subsided. I uncovered my head and relaxed from my roly-poly posture, feeling quite proud of myself for having endured it all. Suddenly, the most disconcerting bolt of lightening struck something right outside my bedroom window. A bright light ripped through the heavy curtains and lit up my room. It was as if God had decided to turn on the sun, right in the middle of the night. A thunderous thud of something hitting the ground immediately followed the fiery flash.
I suppose the startling experience rendered me unconscious with fright, as I recall nothing further until Eliza, our housekeeper, woke me at daylight the next morning.
“Lord have mercy on my soul! Miss Rebecca. Wake up child and see what terrible thing dat storm’s gone and done!”
“What is the matter, Eliza? Your eyeballs are as big as boiled eggs!”
“Oh, Miss Rebecca, get up quick, honey. Go to da window and see what done happened in da night! Dat big old magnolia tree done split in half wit’ her top lyin’ on da ground!”
I flew from my bed with my attention so diverted that I quite forgot to even put on my robe. Parting the curtains as the Good Lord parted the Red Sea, I stood at my window in certain disbelief. My precious magnolia, my childhood companion (as we had both grown from saplings into magnificent creatures) lay just as Eliza described.
Grandfather planted it outside my bedroom window when I was just a baby. He jokingly told my father it would grow to be of considerable advantage for my elopement some day, since my room was located on the upstairs level of our grand old manor, Madison Hall. Grandfather was correct in his assumptions that the tree would be advantageous, but not so far as my elopement. At the time, you see, I hadn’t found a gentleman I deemed worthy of my affections.
Unbeknownst to my parents, that beautiful tree served well as my escape ladder. It would have been a shame to have something so convenient at my disposal and not make the most of it. So I did! That tree facilitated innumerable midnight excursions by myself and my dearest associate in mischief, Miss Martha Ann Anderson.
Martha was my next-door neighbor and closest friend. She was the eldest daughter of Commander Robert Anderson and his charming wife, Lillie.
Mrs. Anderson was a fine, well-bred lady of tall and elegant stature. She possessed a demeanor exceeding the expectations of those in her station. As I recall, she had the most beautiful blue eyes and the kindest smile. She spoke in soft auditory tones. Even when she was angry, her rebukes were gentle. Her hair was long and light gold. She nearly always wore it up, pinned by a comb her mother had given her.
Many of her fine attributes she passed to her daughter, except for her soft tones and tall stature. Martha had a voice that could carry a country mile, and she stood only average height. Otherwise, she was the precise image of her mother’s youth, or so it was said.
I suppose, to look at the two of us standing side by side, a person might wonder how on earth Martha and I could be so different yet so much alike. She had her straight, light colored hair, fair complexion, crystal blue eyes, and of course, average height. Then there I was, very tall and thin for my age, with long, wavy hair the color of mahogany. My eyes, as my father would say, were as dark as the ocean’s deep waters on a moonless night.
No doubt, I inherited my coloring from my beautiful mother whose glorious raven locks and velvety brown eyes first gained her the attentions and affections of my father. It was from him, as my mother would say, that I inherited my height and spirited countenance.
It is a fact that Martha and I may have presented opposites in appearance, but never have two girls been more akin in heart and spirit. It was this likeness, the one on the inside, which got us into so much trouble throughout our younger years. Our fathers likened us, many a time, to horses that could not be tamed.
In public, we honestly did try to behave in the manner expected of us, however we were decidedly determined not to permit our expected behavior to encroach one little bit on our secret adventures.
It was evident by the sight of my most beloved magnolia lying half on the ground that goodly portions of our secret adventures were to be abruptly halted. With my tree broken, I was certain that sneaking out of the house would present far more of a challenge than it had in the past.
Eliza lived in a little cottage just a few yards from the back door of the main house. Not only did she rise early and go to bed late, she had trouble getting to sleep, and she always slept with her windows up about three inches for fresh air. She was a skittish person and thought every noise in the dark was someone or something trying to get in on her.
Unfortunately, not having my tree to climb down left me no other way out of the house at night except to sneak down the back stairway and out the kitchen, right past her cottage. My problem there was the creaky hinges on the screen door. With her windows opened, Eliza was sure to hear me.
Father hated that squeaky door. He told one of the boy helpers to oil it, but Eliza wouldn’t have it. Why, she beat the boy off with a broom every time he tried to grease it. She liked the squeak because it alerted her to anyone entering the house from the rear.
None of us, not even Father, dared to enter the house without first announcing our entrance. Eliza was liable to appear with an iron skillet raised high. She could not abide someone sneaking up on her.
One time, a traveling man came up behind her in the garden. She was singing and didn’t hear him approach. He tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. Instead, he got a good thrashing with her rake. The poor fellow was finally able to get far enough away from her to explain he was not trying to hurt her. He only wanted something to eat and something cool to drink.
I had sense enough to know she would be after me with a rake or maybe even an axe handle if she heard me prowling around in the night. One thing was sure, if I planned to sneak out of the house, I was going to have to get rid of the squeak in the screen door’s hinges. Eliza fussed for days when she discovered someone had greased up her door. Who would have thought lard had such a useful purpose aside from frying chicken?
Eliza was rigidly loyal to my parents and would have hastily informed them of my clandestine activities. Neither Father nor Mother would ever tolerate my folly. I was confident, if caught, I would have been quickly returned to my room and forbidden to leave for the rest of my natural life. So, I made very certain I was never caught.
*****
CHAPTER TWO
It was in the spring of 1886. My mother desperately wanted to accompany my father on a very important business trip to Virginia but didn’t want to remove me from school so near year-end exams. Dear sweet Mrs. Anderson volunteered her services so that I could remain in Summerville and not interrupt my studies.
How fortunate that Martha and I were not only the same age (I being only nine days her senior) and twins at heart, but we shared the vast advantage of attending the same school: Mrs. Weatherton’s School for Girls. Our further advantage was to be in the same grade, which truly made our assignments easier to accomplish, as we were prone to copying each other’s answers.
Martha and I had a strong inclination to converse with one another. In other words, we preferred talking to each other during class rather than listening to the teacher.
On the occasions that we did not know the answer to one of her questions, we just made up an answer which both of us would argue to be gospel. It got to where most of our friends would back us up. They, like us, thought it was rather amusing to see our teacher get bumfuzzled. There were a few times we confused her so that we got by with it, but only a rare few, mind you.
Martha and I were confident that neither of us would be selected to present the valedictory address when it came time for our class to graduate. We remained steadfast in our belief that a young lady could only acquire that much academic efficiency if she had nothing else to do but study.
We were convinced that to become the valedictorian, one would have to be lacking in personality and beauty and have no social life at all. On that merit alone, it was obvious, at least to us, that we would never qualify for the position.
While we truly believed that women should possess a reasonable proficiency of learning (in order to avoid the appearance of being ill-bred and of inadequate social standing), it occurred to us that a woman with superior knowledge would intimidate most men. We already figured, in our thinking, we could out-smart the majority of men we knew, and we didn’t want to appear ostentatious or overbearing in the company of amiable gentlemen. Those were characteristics we were certain would render both of us spinsters. Neither of us ever entertained the first idea about remaining single past the age of nineteen.
Anyway, I barely could contain my joy when my mother presented the news of my stay with the Andersons. Though I pretended to be concerned she would endure considerable boredom without me on the trip to Virginia, I am confident Mother saw through my false intentions. She, in her most polite nature, assured me she should allay her boredom with frequent visits to her dear friend, Susanna Templeton Randolph, who married into the famed Randolphs of Virginia.
Father and Mother were to be away a total of three weeks. It was as if I had been presented an early Christmas present. Three weeks constantly in the company of my dearest friend and companion in mischief seemed almost too impossible a joy to realize.
Of course, Mrs. Anderson would not allow any known schemes to come to fruition. Then again, Martha and I were not exactly in the habit of informing our mothers on every minute detail of our daily activities. We hoped Mrs. Anderson would be much too engaged with her three younger children, a daughter and two sons, to be the least bit interested in her eldest child’s mundane preoccupations. That thought suited Martha and me well.
“Honey, do try not to grieve the Andersons with your stay,” admonished my beloved mother.
She greatly recommended I try as best I could not to talk the poor family to death.
“You do tend to go on, you know?”
She admonished me, as well, to recall my manners and give place to my good upbringing.
Father, being of the same mind, cautioned me to contain my restless spirit and not infringe on the generous hospitality of the Commander and his good wife.
I assured them their trepidation was totally without worth. With that, I begged them not to worry and to have the happiest of journeys.
“I will miss you terribly. Please hurry home!”
I could tell by the look on Father’s face that he less than believed a word from my mouth.
~ ~ ~
“Can you imagine it, Rebecca? Three weeks I have you all to myself. I can scarcely believe our good fortune!”
“Neither can I, Martha. What will we do with all this time to ponder?”
“Surely we can find something good, or not, to occupy our time, do you imagine?”
And indeed we did find plenty!
It rained three whole days after the departure of my parents. Martha and I could hardly restrain ourselves for want of adventure. There was little to do but read and look out the window, except that afternoon when we barricaded ourselves in the attic for several hours and went through every trunk. I must admit, we did find that bundle of love letters from the Commander to his “Sweet Lillie” most entertaining and informative.
Mrs. Anderson, though among God’s most patient creatures, grew excessively weary of the inclement weather. Her precious babies were all forced to remain within the walls of Oakland.
With every passing hour, the children grew more restless, running and jumping like a bunch of wild monkeys. Finally, the Commander intervened in the dismay of Mrs. Anderson and removed them to his study for calmer entertainment. This brought some relief to his dear wife, as she could retire to her room for a respite of reading and well-deserved quiet.
The young ones were not normally allowed in the Commander’s study, but that was an unusual circumstance. The Commander knew he would have his hands full with the children if his beloved Lillie got one of her headaches. He was thus all too willing to produce relief for the sake of her over-all wellness, and that of his own.
That grand gesture on the part of the Commander did no service to Martha and me, as he required us to assist him with the children in their game playing. The only redeeming feature of the day was the fabulous platter of tarts the Commander had asked the cook to prepare in hopes of quieting down the mouths of the restless little heathens.
Having stuffed their little tummies with cupcakes and brownies, the aggravating little varmints were taken to their rooms for a nap, which released Martha and me to remove to the parlor. The quiet was truly a welcomed relief.
The next day, Sunday, saw no improvement in the weather. It was storming so badly that the Commander felt it unsafe for the horses and carriage to travel the road to church. He figured the horses might fall lame, or the carriage would lose a wheel in a pothole. That whole weekend turned out to be a dreadful waste.
Naturally, by Monday morning, the lightening storms had all passed and the inclement weather was reduced to moderate rain. The Commander deemed it perfectly safe for the horses and the carriage to travel that same road in order to deposit all the children at school. I imagine, by then, he didn’t care whether it was safe or not. Come Monday, he just wanted a few hours of peace and quiet in the house, no matter how many of his horses fell lame.
“I so hope this rain stops before our dismissal,” Martha moaned. “Otherwise we will be doomed to remain indoors the remainder of the day and baby-sit my awful siblings again.”
As the carriage arrived at school, Mrs. Weatherton greeted us with her usual delight.
“Come, come ladies. It is wonderful that you could get here this morning. Hurry now and quickly remove your rainwear so we can begin our lessons.”
Mrs. Weatherton was a charming lady. Though the years had taken from her once great beauty, her sweet disposition and attentive ways for her students made her seem most attractive. She was quite petite and somewhat pale but was highly regarded by her charges.
Her husband had been killed defending Georgia against Sherman’s men. We knew all about the hideous war between the Yankees and the Confederates from our lessons and the stories our families had told us. It was still very fresh in the minds and hearts of those who had lived through it. Most everybody we knew had lost someone to it, in one way or another.
Oddly enough, Mrs. Weatherton seldom spoke of the dreadful war, except to say it would forever be a lamented point in our nation’s history. I suppose the pain of it all was too great for her to bear. She had been widowed at the age of twenty-eight, and been left with three precious little girls; ages six, four, and eighteen months.
Had it not been for the kindness of her Uncle Henry and Aunt Mildred Thomas, I dare say all of them would have perished. It was the aunt and uncle who facilitated her move to South Carolina and assisted her financially in founding her school for young ladies.
I overheard Mrs. Anderson telling someone that both Mr. and Mrs. Weatherton were well bred and highly educated. Mr. Weatherton had inherited a great deal of property and wealth from his father. The Weathertons were of great means. Such would not be the case after the invasion of their most prestigious plantation just southeast of Atlanta. Burned to the ground it was and all their family’s belongings ravaged by intolerable men.
They say there was not a thing of value left on the whole place. The Yankees stole everything they could carry and destroyed the rest of it like termites on a woodpile. Those Yankees ruined anything and everything they thought our soldiers could use to further their fight.
Poor Mrs. Weatherton barely escaped. There’s no telling what those awful men would have done to a woman so pretty, had she not run with her children to the woods.
Only she and two young slave women escaped with the babies, a purse of coins, and what food and clothes they could grab in the hurry. Everything else was lost.
Considering that tragedy and losing her beloved Mr. Weatherton, I’m not at all surprised she chose to remove herself from the memories of those painful years.
The rain and the school day seemed eternal. It was ever so difficult to concentrate on our studies. Poor Martha could but roll her eyes in anguish at the awful events that had befallen our time together.
We had envisioned such great excursions, but as of yet had not one single folly to our credit. We were beginning to wonder if it was going to be as boring for my entire stay at Oakland. We questioned whether we were to be allowed any foolishness in the coming days.
Alas, by dismissal, only a single ray of sunshine beamed. The carriage ride back to Oakland was scattered with sprinkles but the small patch of blue sky through the gray clouds gave us hope that we would be soon relieved of our bad fortune.
*****
CHAPTER THREE
The Andersons were well accustomed to the finest cuisine, and I of course, being the agreeable sort that I am, had no objections to the grand presentation the cook set for the evening meals. I tried my best to do as my mother admonished and recall my manners, but they took leave of me in regard to eating only small, lady-like portions.
The Anderson’s cook was far superior to both our Eliza and her daughter-in-law, Annie. They cooked fairly well, I suppose. I can’t honestly say I ever refused any of it, but neither of the women could hold a candle to the culinary skills of Abigail at Oakland. The only exception was Annie could make a better gumbo.
I purely disregarded Mother’s warning when Abigail brought out her famous peach cobbler; piping hot and golden brown, with heaping spoonfuls of whipped cream. Why, the aroma alone was enough to entice the most enthusiastic dieter. I dare say my poor mother would have been appalled when I agreed to Mrs. Anderson’s persistence that I should have a second helping.
Martha promised not to divulge the indiscretion to my mother if I promised not to tell Mrs. Anderson that, after she and the Commander retired for the evening, the cook let us both take a dish of cobbler up to our room. Of course, being a creature of such intelligence, I reasoned that to reveal the incident would serve only in the reprimand of poor Abigail, and I might never again be allowed the privilege of enjoying another morsel of her delicious cobbler.
About midnight, I felt a nudge.
“Can you sleep, Rebecca?”
“I am sure I could if you would shut up and be still!”
“You can get your beauty sleep some other night. I am quite awake and have not even closed my eyes. Come with me to the stable to see Father’s new horse. Come on Rebecca. Get up!”
I blame Martha entirely for the incident. I was too lost in slumber to reason with her as she pulled me out of bed. Somehow I think I might have been able to resist, if my brain had not been impaired by the sugar from those three big helpings of peach cobbler that I ate. I conceded to her tugging and donned my robe and slippers.
“You might have reminded me the ground was still soaked from the rain, Martha. How are we going to explain our muddy slippers and robe bottoms to your mother, oh thou of exceeding great wisdom?”
“Well how stupid are you, Rebecca? You knew just as well as I that the ground was muddy. It has been raining for days.”
“May I remind you, treasured friend, that you woke me from an excellent dream to escort you to the stables in the dead of night, because you couldn’t sleep? It is apparent I am not thinking at all! Otherwise, I would still be between the warm covers and the comfortable feather mattress, instead of being out here with you, in the damp, in the night air, tromping through this bog like a fool, in my gown, with mud clear up to my knees and squishing between my toes! Just look at my slippers. They are ruined, thanks to you!”
“Well, excuse me, Miss prim and proper. Will you just forget about your dang slippers? We can make Lydia (the housekeeper) take care of them in the morning. She is in my debt. I caught her kissing Edmund Kingsley behind the smokehouse.”
“Edmund, that very handsome stableman?” I inquired.
“He is the one,” Martha answered, “And she knows I will spill the beans to Father if she provokes me. He would never stand for that sort of goings on in his employ. She’ll do anything to keep her job so she can stay near Edmund. She would not dare whisper a word of this to Mother.”
“Oh Rebecca, do you not think he is incredibly handsome?”
“Martha, I just said that I thought he was very handsome. Do you not listen to anything that comes out of my mouth?”
“Not Edmund, stupid . . . Father’s new horse! But he does come from good stock, and I have to admit, I do enjoy watching him walk away from me . . . if you know what I mean.”
“Martha, there is a lot about you that is very odd, but getting pleasure from watching a horse’s rear end kind of takes the prize!”
“I ain’t talkin’ about the horse’s behind, you idiot! I am talking about Edmund. Stay with me here, Rebecca. Try to pay attention!”
“It is impossible to stay with you. You think like a kite. You are all over the place. I am going back in the house. Good night!”
“You are not going anywhere!” she said, grabbing my arm. “Not until we have ridden him.”
“Martha, you have obviously lost your mind completely! Your father will take a strap to both of us if he catches us riding that animal!”
“Then we shall not get caught.”
I imagine our ride lasted little more than four minutes before her father’s fine new horse had ridded himself of his annoyances. What ensued after that is more dreadful than you can imagine.
Covered in mud from head to toe, mostly on our backsides and after a brief chase of her father’s horse, we recovered ourselves and returned to the stable, only to be greeted by the Commander.
“I trust you young ladies had a pleasurable ride. What say we go into the house and enlighten Mrs. Anderson on your newfound leisure? I am certain she will be most interested in your after-midnight activities.”
“Robert, dear, did you discover the nature of the disturbance?”
“I did indeed, Lillie.”
“What was it?”
“Horse thieves, my dear. There were two of the scoundrels: young ones. I fear they would have made off with my new Saddle-bred, had he not thrown them both to the ground!”
“Were you able to apprehend them?”
“Oh, not to worry. They are secure.”
“Shall I send Edmund for the authorities?”
“No, my pearl. I shall see to the matter of their punishment, myself. I was just about to fetch my strap.”
“Robert you cannot! This certainly is a matter for the authorities!”
“But sweetness, one is a near kinsman of yours. I am sure it is not your wish to turn the culprit over to the authorities, lest you endure great embarrassment to your family’s good name.”
“You must be mistaken, dear. No Templeton would stoop to such depths as horse thievery!”
“If you doubt me, my love, you should see for yourself. Both are in the kitchen at present, warming by the fire.”
“By the fire? Why, I am amazed, Commander, that you would show such kindness to anyone who would have dared remove your precious horse, even if you thought it to be a relative of mine!”
It didn’t take a scholar to read the expression on Mrs. Anderson’s face, nor what was about to take place when she saw us, shivering, in our drenched nightclothes. I doubt it would have been such a shock to the poor woman had we not been facing the fire, which showed our matted hair and muddy backsides first.
“Dear Lord in Heaven, girls! What mischief have you gone and done now?”
I thought it best to remain silent and let Martha do the explaining, which turned out to be a foolish decision on my part.
“Oh, Mother, do forgive our behavior, though it is not really as you might imagine,” Martha said, with a half-hearted giggle.
Mrs. Anderson cocked her head and crossed her arms, implying she was waiting to hear Martha’s explanation.
“Rebecca could not sleep because of her vast consumption of peach cobbler, which if you recall, Mother, you suggested she have that second helping. So, I thought to have her walk it off might help her stomach ache. We might have solicited your help, but knowing how exhausted you have been from the children, I thought it best to let you rest.”
“Why thank you, Martha, for your consideration. Yes, I am more than a little exhausted from the activities of my children . . . and their friend,” she added, glaring my direction.
By that time, I’m sure my face was scarlet red with madness that Martha would blame the whole thing on me.
“We completely forgot the wet ground, and as our slippers were already muddy, we decided we might as well just continue to walk and deal with that matter when we got back to the house.”
I could feel my fists tightening. I wanted to pull Martha’s hair out. Instead, I stood silently, smiling, and praying Mrs. Anderson would let it all pass as a youthful indiscretion.
“When we got near the stable, we heard this terrible commotion. Rebecca thought we had better investigate. You know how curious she is about everything.”
“Yes, dear, and it appears her curiosity is contagious.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she continued, without hesitation. “Well, as it turned out, Father’s horse was fretful so we decided to take him with us for a walk.”
“Perhaps he also ate too much cobbler,” I muttered to Martha, gritting my teeth!
“Regrettably, we found ourselves so far from the stable that Rebecca said we ought to ride him back.”
“Ah Huh. So riding the horse was Rebecca’s idea?”
“I tried to tell her it was a bad idea, but she insisted she knew how to ride bareback.”
“I see. Go on, Martha. Your father and I are anxious to hear the rest of your story.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Well, as I said, Rebecca decided we should ride Chester back to the stable, but he would just not be part of her plan. I am absolutely positive it is because he is not accustomed to being mounted without a saddle. Do you not think that is the reason, Father?”
Obviously, it took all the Commander could do to keep a straight face. Mrs. Anderson, on the other hand, saw no humor in the incident at all and decided we should immediately get out of our wet garments and get to a bath. It took two washings to get the mud and the matting out of our hair.
“To be sure, girls, this is not ended. To bed with you now! It is very late and you have class in a few hours. Your punishment will be settled in the afternoon when you get home.” That was the most angry I think I have ever seen Mrs. Anderson.
It was several days before the bruise faded on Martha’s leg where I kicked her for spinning such a yarn. I dare say she would think twice before ever again involving me in one of her schemes. I know I was, thereafter on my stay at Oakland, very cautious of submitting to any of her ideas, without great consideration on each. I was certain my mother would soon hear of the event.
Martha and I procrastinated as long as we could in returning home that afternoon. We even volunteered to stay after class, requesting extra practice from our arithmetic instructor, Mrs. Grace. Unfortunately, Mrs. Grace had an appointment and could not gratify our requests. We had hoped to quietly, without being noticed by Mrs. Anderson, sneak in the house and run up to Martha’s room. That wish was not to be granted either.
“Girls, I will see you in the Commander’s study at once, please.”
Martha and I both noticed the “please.” We hoped it meant she had, at last, found some humor in our outing and would go easy on our punishment, but we were wrong.
“Commander Anderson and I have discussed the matter and concur that the next two evenings should be spent in your room, without entertainment. You will also have to be in bed two hours earlier than normal this evening, to make up for the lack of sleep last night.”
Martha’s father looked up from his book and over the top of his reading glasses to see our reactions to the ruling. Neither of us conceded to honor him with the slightest change of expression.
We knew he could easily override Mrs. Anderson’s judgment if he were of a mind to. It nearly got the best of us that he just let her go on for another fifteen minutes, chiding us as if we had robbed a bank or committed some other heinous crime. He never once uttered a single word in our defense. We were therefore not obliged to give either of them the satisfaction of appearing the least bit upset over the whole decree.
I had overheard stories from my father about the Commander and knew he was more of a rascal in his younger days than Martha and I ever dared to be. So, with our shoulders squared and heads held high, we gathered our satchels, and excused ourselves to our room as if there were no banishment at all. As we ascended the stairs, Mrs. Anderson called to us once more.
“I first thought you should do without dinner completely. However, since you did not try to argue your way out of the punishment, I have decided to allow Abigail to bring something up to your room. I think it punishment enough that you will not be allowed to join the family for dinner.”
She apparently thought we actually wanted to eat with the family. We couldn’t figure out how she got that hair-brained notion.
“Oh, and girls, you shall not be having cobbler either evening.”
For the sake of her parents, we pretended our confinement those two evenings seemed a fate appropriate for a horse thief. We were allowed neither games nor reading other than our studies and were prohibited any laughter. If we had paid any attention to what she said, the no laughter part would have been a punishment too dreadful for the crime. Thankfully, there were several creaky steps on the stairway, and we could hear when someone was coming up.
In retrospect, I’m sure that Mrs. Anderson was aware we would never be able to comply with her wishes on most of her points. She knew we would make up our own games and laugh at most any situation, even that one. It took only a few minutes of confinement before we were burying our faces in our pillows, trying to keep our laughter from being discovered.
How dreadfully silly we must have looked lying in the mud. It was a wonder neither of us were hurt in the fall. Chester was a very tall horse. We imagined our screams, as he threw us to the ground, were surely what awakened the Commander and Mrs. Anderson. It was either that or our laughter as we chased the beast around the pasture, trying to catch him.
By the time we rounded up that aggravating animal and returned him to the stable, Commander Anderson had no doubt had time for a hearty cackle at our expense.
Just recalling the astonished look on Mrs. Anderson’s face as she discovered her relative, horse thief, certainly was hilarious enough to make our punishment easier to bear. Both of us were sure, had Mrs. Anderson not been so upset by the incident, the Commander would have taken the matter to his amusement and left the punishment off.
Martha and I concluded that the Commander had wasted his money on that ignorant horse. If it hadn’t been for that intolerable creature throwing us to the ground, the whole thing might have gone undiscovered.
It took less time than I imagined for a letter from Virginia to come. I was sure my mother had been informed of the incident and written to scold me, but it was my father’s pen I received.
Dear Rosebud:
I have received word that you have taken up riding bareback. I do trust that you will, in the future, remember that riding is a far more enjoyable sport when the rider is properly attired and has a comfortable saddle.
Precious, do consider the feelings of poor Mrs. Anderson. She has her concerns, apparently with good reason, that you will be injured in some way or perhaps fatally wounded while we are away. She does have her hands full, caring for the little ones, even though she has servants to assist.
I do hope you realize that you might have been gravely wounded had you not fallen on your . . . well, my dear, let me just say, had you not landed on soft ground. Your mother and I worry if we made the right decision, leaving you at Oakland.
Your mother has taken a terrible cold and has not been apprised of the incident, as yet. I did not wish to burden her while she is fevered. We had already discussed her returning home in a few days, but she is unable to travel at present and probably will not be able for several more days.
We are currently lodging with the Randolphs. Your mother was visiting Susanna when she fell ill. The family has been most gracious to attend to our every need.
Rosie, I have great news for you. Your brother, John, has joined us here in Richmond. He finished his term at the university and has decided to return home for the summer. I trust this news will keep you occupied from further outrageous activity.
Your mother purchased several pieces of wardrobe for you that I am sure you will be delighted to acquire.
I do miss you, my darling little Rosebud. I cannot wait to see your beautiful face again. I only hope you are as eager for our return.
It would be a considerable courtesy if you should take the time from your busy schedule to write your mother. I am sure she would welcome a note.
I must cease my writing for now, as Colonel Randolph, his son Charles, John, and I are to dine out this evening.
Lovingly,
Father
I felt absolutely dreadful that Mother had fallen ill while away from the comforts of home. Even though I knew the Randolphs would surely care for her without regard to cost, I was certain she would recover faster if she were at home in her own bed.
I took no time in writing her a letter.
My Dear Mother:
Father wrote to tell me of your illness and delay in returning home. I can only wish that I were there by your side to nurse you back to health. I trust you are recovering speedily and will come home in a short while.
Be confident that all is well at Oakland, and I am behaving to your highest approval, in spite of what you may hear to the contrary.
You will be so proud of my continued progress at school. The year is about to conclude and I look forward to spending the summer without so much study.
Is it not wonderful news that John is coming home? I imagine he is even more handsome than when he was last here. I am sure he will have no lack of companionship, as he is certainly the most agreeable gentleman in Summerville.
It has been far too long an absence. I cannot wait to see him. I hope you have told him how much I have matured since he has been gone. Else wise he may not even recognize me.
Remember that my seventeenth birthday is only a few weeks away. I have so many wonderful ideas for the grand celebration. How wonderful that John will be home to enjoy the festivities. Perhaps he will introduce me to his many gentlemen acquaintances once he has revived his friendships here. Oh, Mother, we can extend them all invitations to the birthday party.
Mother, do get well soon. I miss you so much. You are in my nightly prayers, but I shall say an extra for your recovery.
Do give Father and John my love and a big hug to each.
Affectionately yours,
Rebecca
*****
CHAPTER FOUR
I was terribly concerned over the condition of my mother, while at the same time joyful that my stay at Oakland had not been prematurely halted. My glee, however, was short lived. Only five days after his first letter, I received another letter from Father.
Dear Rosebud:
It pains me to inform you of your mother’s continued ill health. We have discussed the matter and decided that it is not at all in her best interests to travel. Dr. Riley, who has attended her almost daily, concurs.
Since you have only a few days left at Weatherton’s, before your term ends, I have arranged with the Andersons for you to remain that time at Oakland. Then, you shall transfer immediately to the home of your grandfather and grandmother in the city.
Do not even begin to fret, Rebecca. There will be no argument with my decision. I do not wish to burden Mrs. Anderson or your mother with worry for what you and Martha could get into if you had several whole days to devise your own schemes.
The only reason you were not informed in my last letter is so that I might make sure Mother and Father would be available to receive you. I therefore requested Mrs. Anderson not reveal my plan.
I have made all the necessary arrangements. The carriage will take you to Father’s the morning after your release from school. You will need to go across early to Madison Hall so that you may obtain fresh wardrobe for the journey. Eliza will assist you.
Be sure to gather all your belongings when you leave the Andersons and thank them for their hospitality. When you are packing for the trip, I admonish you to carry appropriate attire in case you are invited to dine out while in the city, as surely will be the case.
Your mother insists that I go on to Charleston to take care of some business which requires my soon attention. I imagine I have truthfully become a bother to her and she would prefer to have me gone, rather than pacing about desiring her recovery. Your brother has consented to remain and escort her home when she is able.
I do not wish to alarm you as to her condition. She has no doubt improved since my last correspondence. She is now able to retain solid food. She is still considerably weak. She still has some degree of difficulty breathing and has lost quite a few pounds, but her fever has departed, and she has been out of bed several times. She has even asked for her books. She seems more than a little bored at being confined.
My letter lengthens, but I have so many things I want to say. It has been far too long an absence from you, sweet little daughter. I miss you dreadfully. That, I trust, will soon be remedied, as upon my return, I shall come to you at Father’s.
I promise you that we shall have at least one evening all to ourselves. I will take you to dine in a most exquisite atmosphere so that I may show off my beautiful Rosebud. It is my prerogative as your father to do so, you know?
Do your best not to trouble Grandnana and Grandfather. Remember they are getting on in years and are not so apt to be patient with as spirited a young lady as you. Remember not to talk so much, especially in the presence of your grandfather.
Be cheerful, my precious, and please do not be heated with me for sending you to Charleston. I know you disagree with my decision, but it is best for all. I shall see you in the city, in a few days.
Affectionately,
Father
You can’t imagine how devastated Martha and I were with our sad fate. We hadn’t been so long separated since she accompanied her mother and siblings to Greenville two whole summers before. They went to her grandmother’s, the widow Summerford, where they remained what seemed like an eon!
I couldn’t imagine having to spend another summer vacation without her. I thought the pain would be less if I were to have my right arm cut off! I loved Grandfather and Grandnana, but I did not know a soul on their boulevard, less than forty! I thought surely I would go mad for lack of youthful companionship!”
Martha threw a fit when I informed her of the news, just as I expected she might do. She always did have a tendency to be melodramatic in her teenage years. I, on the other hand, was always the more steady minded of the two of us. I was never given to exaggeration. I saw things exactly as they were. I did, however, imagine I would keel over dead if our separation lasted more than a week. I just knew I would cry myself to dehydration and force my complexion to shrivel like a prune.
The first few days at my grandparents’ turned out not to be quite the tragedy I had imagined, though I thought often of Martha. I very much wished she could be there with me to take in the sights. The sights I refer to included several very tolerable looking cadets from the South Carolina Military Academy.
Grandfather’s home was conveniently situated on East Battery. The cadets often took exercise in late afternoon, across the street, along the sea wall. I arranged to be conveniently situated on the piazza in late afternoon, when they walked by.
Although it would have been improper to introduce myself, I did gain notice from several of the gentlemen. I say that in all modesty, for within only a few days of my arrival at my grandparents’, many of the cadets had relocated their walks from across the street to the sidewalk right in front of the house. This, of course, gave me a considerable advantage for looking directly into their eyes, but only so I could report to Martha which of them I thought she might find most appealing, you understand.
The other advantage to their relocation was that it facilitated brief exchanges of pleasantry such as “ Good evening Miss,” “Nice weather we’re having today,” and “Your family has a beautiful home.”
Naturally, I was obligated by my good southern manners to graciously respond to their comments. The exchanges never went beyond formality, but I did so enjoy the repartee with my cadets.
~ ~ ~
As the cadets often commented, my grandparents’ home was indeed beautiful. It was completed in 1838 for a wealthy planter. It was built of brick, three stories tall, and boasted grand pillars. The second story piazza made it quite suitable for looking down on my handsome passersby.
My grandfather acquired the house in the mid 1850’s. It fell to poor conditions during the war, since Grandfather was away. Grandnana, my father, who was not old enough to go to battle, and the servants did as well as they could. But resources were strained, as one might imagine in such dreadful times.
It took several years after the war before the house and grounds were restored to their original beauty. By then it was a residence admired by the entire neighborhood.
From Grandfather’s study you could see clean across the bay to Fort Sumter where the first shots of that awful war had been fired in 1861. Grandfather did not like to talk much about the war. He had lost his oldest son, Gideon, and many dear friends in it.
Grandfather himself had been severely wounded, nigh unto death. He nearly had to have his arm amputated from a bullet and the infection that set in. Grandnana told me he yet endured pain from the scarring of his wounds. Of course no one ever gets over the death of a child.
Judging from his pictures, Uncle Gideon was a handsome young man. He and my father looked remarkably alike. They both favored Grandfather. Sometimes my Grandnana would forget and call my father Gideon instead of Samuel. She wore a locket with both her boys’ pictures in it. That way they were always near her heart.
Uncle Gideon never married, but he was engaged to a girl named Gabrielle when he left to fight. After Uncle Gideon’s death and the war ended she married a doctor and moved away from Charleston.
Grandfather lost his son, nearly his own life, and just about all the wealth he had amassed. But he was a good businessman and a hard worker, determined to rebuild what that awful war had taken.
Grandfather took the Lord at His word. He knew the best way to receive abundantly was to give abundantly, and so he did. Grandfather made it a point to help everybody he could that needed help. It didn’t matter what their need, he did his best to see that it was filled, one way or another.
“I am too blessed of the Lord to withhold from other people if I can help ‘em.” he’d say. “Just ain’t no use in holdin’ on to stuff down here, when I got so much a waitin’ for me up in Glory.”
The more he gave, the more God blessed him. Within just a few years after the war, Grandfather had regained his entire fortune and then some. But he didn’t view his money as his to squander. He knew God had given it to him to help his neighbors and he knew God could take it away if he didn’t use it wisely.
“Remember child, no need puttin’ your faith in money. Your faith needs to be in the Lord. Money ain’t so important. Your family is what is real important. We never know how long we’re gonna have them we love. You’d better love God and your family with all your heart. Child, put your trust in the Lord. He alone holds your future. He alone will sustain you in every situation.”
I can’t tell you the number of times I heard that sermon. That’s what Grandfather said to me, almost every time I saw him. I think deep down, he must’ve wanted to be a preacher. Then again, he did have his own little ministry – with the way he helped people and all. I’ve heard his words, so many times, echoing in my heart down through the years, especially the part about the Lord holding my future and sustaining me in every situation.
I somehow got the impression that Grandfather was not as religious before the war as he was after it. I imagine having lived through so much devastation and tragedy caused great increase to his faith. I’m sure battle has a way of motivating one to pray. I dare say having been brought through such a thing would surely cause one to be in debt of gratitude to the Creator for His protection.
Grandfather, all the years of my knowing him, was a good and honest man. He taught me many valuable lessons of faith and trust in God.
My Grandnana was a colorful creature and very spiritually minded, as well. She dearly loved her garden. In fact, the very moment the carriage pulled to her gate for my deposit from Oakland, Grandnana was clearing the nurseryman of his wares. I do believe she purchased every bud the old gentleman had on his wagon.
I thought at first I might be trapped into helping her plant her acquisitions, but I was most relieved to learn that she had acquired a newfound philosophy. She had decided ladies should never put their hands in the dirt. I think she called it her new philosophy because she was getting on in years, and her poor old back was giving her so much trouble. But I was plenty satisfied with her thinking because dirt is, after all, detrimental to the complexion of one’s hands. Plus, I’d never seen any of the higher-class women with calluses and unkempt nails.
Grandnana said a true Southern lady should be proficient at pointing. The Good Lord knows she had become an expert pointer. I dare say poor Raymond, her gardener, had nightmares of Grandnana’s stubby little finger pointing to where she desired the irises, and where he was to plant her petunias.
Perhaps it is unkind of me to refer to my sweet Grandnana as having stubby little fingers, but they matched her stubby little body. She measured only five feet two inches tall.
She was pleasantly round, as you would think a grandmother ought to be, and she had rosy cheeks and the jolliest laugh you’ve ever heard. I fear her roundness was contributed to by her love for pastries. She was not satisfied to let her cook oversee their making.
Grandnana wouldn’t put her hands in dirt, but she had no problem putting them in dough. She prepared most of the desserts herself. At least she made sure every pie was filled to capacity and that each had an extra measure of sugar.
She was not nearly so concerned with the thinness of a young lady, soon to be presented, as my mother was. I had proposed to tell my mother (in the most polite way, of course) that if she despaired over the thickening of my waistline, she should blame herself. For it was she and Father who decided on my separation from Martha, sending me to a place with no one my age to occupy me. I was left with far less exercise than I might have obtained at Oakland.
Grandnana was aged and not given to much walking. She said it bothered her knees. Therefore, there was little else to do but read, watch cadets, and eat Grandnana’s delights.
My grandmother must have uncovered my boredom, though I tried very little to conceal it. She allowed me to accompany her cook to market one morning, if I gave my solemn promise to stay close by her.
I had never been to the market in the city before. It was referred to as the slave market before the war. It wasn’t the place where they sold slaves. That was a different place, just down the road. The market we went to was where the slaves brought the goods from the plantations to be sold in the city. It was more than a little crowded and a bit frightful at first, with all the shouting and pushing by.
I got to meet the kindest old woman called Ma Sue. She was a friend of Grandnana’s cook. Ma Sue and her family had been slaves before the war, at a prominent plantation in North Carolina, near Raleigh. Union soldiers burned the plantation to the ground then told all the slaves they were free to go.
Unfortunately, they had nowhere to go but to a refugee camp. Hundreds of former slaves were destitute from similar situations. They couldn’t read or write and had difficulty finding any kind of employment.
Many of them died in the refugee camps from starvation and disease. Ma Sue’s oldest boy was among those that didn’t survive. He was only fifteen when he died of pneumonia.
After the war, the rest of their family migrated down to Charleston. She was earning her living weaving the most intricate baskets. She and her daughters gathered their own sweet grass from the banks of the Ashley River.
We had several sweet grass baskets at Madison Hall but none so beautiful as hers. I thought to tell Mother about Ma Sue when she returned from Richmond. I was sure she would want to acquire several for containers in the kitchen.
When we returned home, I had a great surprise! Father had arrived. Had I known he would be in, I would have stayed. He was not offended that I had gone with the cook, though. It gave him time to refresh himself with a cup of tea and several of Grandnana’s chocolate cookies.
Father and I were very much of the same opinion when it came to desserts: If you eat something sweet, it will make you have a sweet disposition. That was another one of Grandnana’s philosophies . . . one that I liked, for certain.
Grandnana once told me that she had a skinny woman inside her just fighting to get out. She told me she kept her sedated with sugar.
*****
CHAPTER FIVE
As he said he would in his letter, Father kept his word and took me the very next evening to dinner at the Charleston Hotel. I remember how beautifully the dining room was decorated and what an extensive menu selection they had. Father said I could order whatever I desired, but I am afraid my appetite was somewhat diminished by the tightness of my dress.
I wished I had heeded the warnings of my mother and not been so reckless with my eating habits the previous several weeks. Mother was not going to be proud of my recent increase. At that point, I thought fasting until she returned a viable and prudent alternative.
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