Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Gray (12 page)

Wasn't much to tell. It was November, and Arlington was settling down for winter. The winter wheat was planted, the gardens laid by until spring. Hog-killing time had come and gone, and the smokehouse was full up with ham and bacon and such waiting to cure. I told her this, and about Mauma still waiting for her own baby.

“How is Sally?”

“She's most nearly too big to get through the door. Her feet hurt her some. But Daddy brings in water every night and heats it up for her. A good soaking seem like it helps. Judah brings slippery elm tea when Mauma's feeling poorly. Mauma says it's going to be hard looking after Wesley and a new baby besides. She says a three-year-old boy nothing but trouble.”

Miss Mary just nodded her head.

“Nathaniel cut his foot real bad, and Judah made him a
vinegar and ashes plaster. The doctor gave him some bush-elder salve. Althea and Thursday got into a argument yesterday evening. I don't know what about.” I picked at a loose thread on my apron. “Thornton Gray said he might sit with me at Sunday night preaching.”

Miss Mary frowned. “Which one is he?”

“The one who helps look after your papa's horses. He claims to be mostly Indian. But one day I asked him to speak Indian and he couldn't say even one word.”

Miss Mary's cinnamon-brown eyes crinkled up when she laughed. “Do you like this boy?”

My stomach jumped, but I acted like Thornton Gray was nothing special. “He's all right, I guess.”

“Ah. I see. Have you been keeping up with your reading, Selina?”

“Since Missus stopped my lessons, there's not much to read around here excepting the Bible.”

“I tried reading a few of Mr. Bryant's poems yesterday, but I tired so quickly I gave up. Perhaps you could read to me for a while.”

I sat in the chair beside her bed and picked up the book, which fell open to “A Forest Hymn.” It was fairly long, and she closed her eyes while I read it to her. Maybe she was picturing the words in her head or maybe she was too wore out to listen. When I got to the end she nodded her head.

“That was excellent. You read very well.” She looked out the window, not saying anything for a spell. Then she said, “Isn't it lovely, Selina? I wish things never had to change. I wish Arlington could stay forever just as it is today.”

I thought about that. It was slaves that planted the fields and picked the apples and killed the hogs. It was slaves that cleaned the house and cooked the meals and drove Missus everywhere she wanted to go. Miss Mary was all the time doing something for the society that wanted to send my people to Africa—writing letters or selling flowers or reading up on the meetings Missus went to in Washington City.

How could Arlington stay the same if we were all supposed to go?

I heard somebody coming up the stairs, and I handed her the book and got to my feet. “I got to go.”

“In a minute.” She sat up in the bed and passed her hand over her hair. “Could you bring my hairbrush and my hand mirror?”

I got them off her dressing table and handed them to her. She tried to get the brush through her hair, but it was one big, brown tangle. Knots everywhere. Looked like Judah's old rag mop.

Missus came into the room. “Selina. I've been looking for you.”

“My fault, Mother,” Miss Mary said. She yanked on her knotted hair. “I'm afraid I have delayed her. Oh, these tangles are quite impossible!”

“No wonder,” Missus said. “After four months abed.” To me she said, “I'm expecting visitors this afternoon. Be sure the parlor is dusted.”

“Yes, Missus.”

“And polish that silver tray on the sideboard.”

“Yes, Missus.”

“And be sure George has started making the sweet biscuits.”

“Yes, Missus.”

I started for the door, but Miss Mary stopped me. “Selina,
before you see to your chores, find my sewing scissors and bring them here.”

It didn't look to me like Miss Mary was feeling up to doing any sewing, but I fetched the scissors. And right before my eyes, she started in with those scissors and hacked off all her hair.

1838

W
ill we see Indians out West, Mama?” All morning Boo had been clattering up and down the stairs, bringing a succession of favorite toys to the open trunks in my bedroom. Now he plunked his spinning top, which had long since lost its crimson paint, right on top of my best underthings.

I fished it out and set it on the bed. “I should not be surprised if there are Indians.”

“Papa says there are. He says they wear beads and blankets and they paddle their canoes up and down the river.”

“Well, there is your answer then.”

“I want a pony when we get out West.” Boo picked up his top and set it into my trunk again.

“Custis Lee. Do not put that toy into my trunk again. If you do, I will leave it behind.”

Robert came in. “Here are the books you wanted.”

I made space in my trunk next to a chest of my father's old papers, which were very curious and amusing, though many had moldered beyond recognition. For more than twenty years Papa had published recollections of his life as the stepgrandson of George Washington in the
National Intelligencer
. His friends and admirers had encouraged him to collect them into a single
volume, and he had asked me to sift through the letters, commissions, deeds, and patents, stretching back to the reigns of James II, William and Mary, and Queen Anne, to find those that might be of interest to the general reader. Some might think such a project a frivolous pursuit, self-indulgent even, but I felt the weight of my family's history and the burden of keeping it alive. The lives and accomplishments of others, it seems, slip all too quickly behind the veil of time.

Robert set down my books and glanced at our son, who had retreated to the corner in a fit of pique. “What is troubling Mr. Boo?”

“Despite my wishes, he is determined to pack his toys in my trunk instead of his own.”

Boo would turn six years old in the fall. Of late he had become willful and obstinate, and I was grateful that for the immediate future our son would fall under his father's watchful gaze. Our daughter, Mee, was three, and Rooney, our second son, was just a year old.

“Custis.” Robert's voice brooked no argument. “Would you mind explaining why you have disobeyed your mother?”

“I don't know.”

“Then perhaps you ought to go to your room until some plausible explanation suggests itself. And in the meantime think of how you have disappointed both your mother and me with your behavior.”

“Yes, sir.” Boo retrieved his top.

“I will take charge of that.” Robert held out his hand for the toy.

Boo's dark eyes, so like his father's, brimmed with tears. “But it's my favorite.”

Robert waited. Boo handed it over and stomped out.

“You see what I must contend with when you are away?” I folded the last of my shawls into the trunk.

“You must be firm with him, Mary.”

“I try. But sometimes I don't know what to do with that boy. I suppose it isn't all his fault. Papa dotes on him because he will inherit Arlington after I'm in the ground.”

“All the more reason we ought not to be separated any more than is absolutely necessary.” Robert stood behind me and wrapped both arms around my waist. “You cannot know how anxious I have been to get back to all of you, Molly. How I dreamed about you all every night.” He kissed the back of my neck. “I have booked the train to Baltimore for early next week. Will you be ready by then?”

Though the mere prospect of the long trip exhausted me, I turned in his arms and kissed him back. “St. Louis, here we come.”

He laughed. “Which servants are coming with us?”

“Just Kitty. She is kind to the boys, and they are accustomed to her. Unfortunately, she is given to much daydreaming.”

“What about your Selina?”

“Mother can't spare her. Margaret is with child; she can hardly be expected to take Selina's place. Julia is sick too, and there must be someone reliable to help run this house.”

Robert left me to my packing, and a few minutes later I saw him walking in the garden with Papa. Kitty came in, leading Mee by the hand. “Little Miss not feeling so good today, Miss Mary.”

“Oh?” I felt my daughter's forehead. It did seem overly warm. I laid Mee on my bed and got a cloth to make a cold compress. Kitty stood there with her hands in her pockets, staring at the ceiling.

“Kitty. Do you not have anything to do? Where's Rooney?”

“Sleeping like a rock the last time I looked.”

“When was that?”

“I don't remember.”

“Then go check on him, and then ask my mother to come up.”

Kitty didn't move. “She can't come up, Miss Mary. She's got comp'ny in the parlor. Missus Palmer and Missus Mason is here.”

“Then go look after the baby.”

Over the next few days Mee developed a cough and wouldn't eat. As the day of our departure drew near, Robert and I made the unhappy decision to leave her at home in the care of my mother and father.

Papa caught up with me as I was packing a new book of poetry and several novels Mother had given me to help pass the time on the journey west.

“I don't want you to worry about Mee,” he said. “It is unfortunate that she must be left behind, but your mother and I will see to her.”

“I know she will get the best of care. But I will miss her so.” I closed the trunk and locked it.

He patted my hand and smiled. “Having my only granddaughter to look after will be almost like reliving your own childhood.”

“Don't spoil her, Papa.”

He looked at me, a hint of merriment in his eyes. “You may be certain I will treat her just as I treated you, dearest.”

“Oh, then she is completely ruined!”

He laughed. “Tell me, what arrangements has Robert made for furnishing your home in the hinterlands? You are welcome to take some things from here if it makes the move easier.”

“Thank you. But we plan to buy what we need in Cincinnati and have it shipped on to St. Louis.”

“Well, if you find you need anything from here after you have gone, you have but to ask.”

The next day we left for Baltimore and a short visit with Robert's sister, Anne. But Rooney and Boo fell ill, and we were forced to remain for nearly two weeks until they recovered.

At last we left Anne's and continued on toward St. Louis, taking the train to Philadelphia and Harrisburg, and then a canal boat to Pittsburgh, where we waited for the next westbound steamboat. It was my first visit to that city, a bleak and charmless place full of noise and dust from the cotton mills and glass factories that seemed never to shutter their doors. The coal furnaces emitted a constant cloud of black soot and ash that turned everything a dingy gray.

I was already homesick for the lush, green hills of Arlington, and I was relieved when the steamboat came, and at last we arrived in Cincinnati.

After breakfast Robert took Custis on his knee. “What do you think of this journey, Boo?”

“It's a disappointment. I have not seen any Indians yet. Or canoes or anything.”

“You will, when we get closer to St. Louis.” Robert kissed the top of Custis's head. “I have a great favor to ask of you this morning.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to help Kitty look after Rooney while your mother and I go ashore.”

“I want to go with you.”

“I know you do, but we are on an important errand, getting things for our new house. It wouldn't be any fun for a little boy.”

“Kitty doesn't need my help. All Rooney does is sleep all day.” Boo rolled his eyes. “He is not much of a companion, Papa.”

Robert laughed. “Your brother will catch up with you in no
time, and then you will be inseparable. Just as I was with my own brothers.”

Sensing that our son was about to launch into full-blown opposition, Robert set Boo on his feet and gave him an affectionate swat on his behind. “Run along now.”

I checked on Rooney, spoke with Kitty, and met Robert on deck. We left the waterfront and walked into town.

Robert tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. “Well, dearest wife, what shall we purchase for our new abode?”

Carts and carriages rumbled past. Train whistles screeched. I stepped around a mound of rubbish in the street. “I cannot say, since you have told me so little about it. Am I in for another season of living in rooms the size of a piece of chalk?”

“You will find it a great improvement over Fort Monroe. The house has a proper parlor and two bedrooms. The dining room is not overly large, but it's quite adequate. There is a small accommodation for Kitty and a yard where the boys can play. Best of all, we do not have to share space with Captain Talcott.”

My homesickness dissipated in the glow of Robert's happiness at having his wife and children with him. “We need beds and a proper dining table. Chairs. A settee for the parlor.”

We found a furnishings store and selected the necessary pieces. While I admired a carved walnut tea table and a pair of handsome upholstered chairs too dear for a soldier's salary, Robert paid for our purchases and arranged for our new things to be shipped by steamer to St. Louis.

We had been invited to attend the wedding of an old friend during our stop in Louisville, and after completing our furniture purchases, we shopped for a wedding gift. Robert bought toys for the children, and I picked up a new handkerchief for Kitty. We
stopped for tea at the hotel before returning to the boat, and for a brief time we set aside our responsibilities and worries as parents and simply enjoyed each other's company.

Robert leaned back in his chair and surveyed the activity taking place outside the hotel window. “We have come a long way in the last seven years.”