The Wedding Gift Read online

  “Yes, ma’am. It didn’t come down last month.”

  I tried not to cry as the pain worsened, though the bleeding seemed to ebb. My mother sat next to me on the bed, periodically feeling my forehead and throat. She asked Belle to make me camphor tea. After a while, my mother felt my forehead again and told Belle to ask Mr. Davis to find someone to take her to the slave quarters to bring back Miss Mary.

  “Tell her what happened and that the bleeding stopped but the pain is still bad and she got a fever.”

  Belle left and my mother tried to comfort me. The ache throbbed, and I screamed every so often when I thought I could not stand the pain a moment longer. It took about two hours for Belle to return with Miss Mary, who brought a carpenter’s satchel. She felt my forehead and throat.

  “She’s burning up. I got to give her something for the fever.”

  “Can you give her something to make all the blood come down?”

  Miss Mary looked at Belle and me. “I thought you had sent Belle down to me the other day. I gave her herbs to bring down the bleeding, but I thought it was for her. If I give Sarah more now, that could kill her, like poison.”

  “But if it don’t all come out, she’s going die. What’s still left in her is going to rot inside. Please, do what you got to do to take it all out.”

  “I can’t do that here. She’s going to scream too much from the pain, and I’m going to need the girls who help me with these things. We’re going to have to take her over to a cabin that I use in the fields. If Mr. Davis ask, we got to tell him she’s sick but for me to take care of her she’s going to have to come with me because I got to look after some girls who about to have their babies. Get her ready and let’s go. Bring all them clean rags, more if you can find any.”

  They helped me to a wagon, and a slave took Miss Mary, my mother, and me to the slave quarters. I felt a torturous pain every time the cart’s wheels rolled over a small stone. They took me to a well-maintained cabin where, I later learned, the field hands gave birth. Miss Mary left us there and returned about thirty minutes later with two other bondswomen. My mother helped them to remove my clothing, and someone brought me a cup of whiskey and told me to drink. I almost choked on the liquid, but after the first cup, they made me drink another. I became lightheaded. Someone put a rag that had been soaked in tea in my mouth. Miss Mary told me to suck on the rag and to bite down on it because it would ease the pain. As soon as I sucked the tea out of the rag, they gave me another one. After I was done with the second rag, I was floating above everyone. I heard Miss Mary speaking, giving orders to my mother and the other women.

  “All right, Miss Emmeline and Cissy going to hold her down by the shoulders and waist. Diana and Fanny, you all know what to do, hold her down by the knees and feet. She’s going to ask you to let go, but you can’t. If she move, the needle can go right through her.”

  Fear overtook me and I began pleading. “Please, no. Just let me go. Don’t stick a needle in me. Let me go. Let me go, please. Let me go.”

  They did not release me but placed a folded cloth under my buttocks and spread my legs wide.

  “Sarah, Miss Mary’s about to put a knitting needle inside you. Don’t move, Sarah. You can’t move at all, you hear me?”

  “Mama, make her stop. Don’t let her, please. I beg you—don’t let her. I changed my mind. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Shush, my darling. It’s going be over soon. She’s got to do it, Sarah. If that blood stays inside you, you’re going to die.”

  When the tip of the needle reached my insides, my body tried to jerk, but the women held me down. The rag fell from my mouth and I screamed so loudly that I was sure they could hear me at Allen Hall. I had never felt a pain so fierce. I momentarily lost consciousness when Miss Mary began moving the needle inside me in a circular motion. When I regained my senses, I could not speak, not even to petition for mercy. I could not cry because I had no tears left in me.

  When Miss Mary finally withdrew the needle, her hand was covered in blood. After wiping me, she asked for another rag soaked in tea, which she folded into the shape of a tube and inserted inside me. Someone wiped me with cool cloths and dressed me in a long blouse. Miss Mary told Cissy, Diana, and Fanny that they could leave. My mother thanked them for helping us. Throughout the night, I vomited various times and my mother brought me ginger and cinnamon teas to ease the nausea.

  In the early morning, before dawn, one of the slaves took us back to my mother’s cabin. Belle brought us food and stayed with me so that my mother could return to the Hall to work. Belle and my mother took turns caring for me for the next several days. My mother explained my absence to the Hall overseer by saying that I had a fever. Belle assumed my duties as Clarissa’s maid. When I was strong enough to return to Allen Hall, I still felt quite a bit of pain and continued to bleed, heavily at times.

  I resumed my duties caring for Clarissa, who claimed that she wanted to marry Mr. Cromwell and chattered about gowns, shoes, and gloves. When Isaac was home, the week after my ordeal, I told him that I had a lost a baby. He did not ask me any questions and said only that I should not be concerned, as we would have one the next time. He also said that the overseer at the stables had informed him that he was going to be Clarissa’s new coachman.

  Isaac’s first journey with Clarissa and me was to her grandparents in Montgomery. The day we arrived, Clarissa, who was staying by herself in the guest quarters, told me that she would not need me in the evenings and made arrangements for Isaac and me to sleep in a cabin near the servants’ homes. Isaac said that I should not wait for him that first night, as one of the horses was sick and he was going to care for it until late.

  We remained in Montgomery longer than I expected, about three weeks. During the day, Clarissa made social calls. I was alone at night because Isaac said that the horses were tired from so much travel and that he had to be with them to make sure that they were comfortable and rested. I borrowed books from Clarissa’s grandparents’ collection and read because Isaac never returned from the stables before four in the morning.

  By permitting Clarissa to travel to Montgomery and Macon County with Isaac and me as chaperones, Mr. and Mrs. Allen misjudged Clarissa’s intentions and my ability to anticipate them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THEODORA ALLEN

  PAPA DIED THE YEAR CLARISSA WAS SIXTEEN. MY husband had taken Emmeline and Sarah to Mobile and refused to accompany us to Athens to see my ailing father. I assisted Papa’s wife and the physician, but there was nothing to be done. Had it not been for my daughter, I would have felt completely alone when he died. I did not have time to mourn because his death affected Clarissa more than I had expected, which I should have foreseen, as they had begun corresponding when she learned how to read and write. At first, I helped her with her letters, but as she grew, she did not share with me what they wrote to each other.

  The year Papa died was the year I lost the final vestige of jealousy regarding Emmeline and my husband. I had believed that she had gone to his bed willingly, but when Bessie told me that he sold Belle, I felt nothing but pity for Emmeline, who thereafter became meek, even anxious in his presence. If she served us tea, her hands shook as she passed a cup and saucer. When Belle returned, she and Belle both seemed fragile, while Sarah became stronger and, I am sure, developed a deep hatred for Cornelius.

  When Mr. Cromwell began courting Clarissa, I told her that we needed to sort her childhood possessions, some to put in a trunk for her children and others to give to the servants. We set a rainy day aside to revisit her early years, only the two of us. We found the letters that Papa had written her, and she said that she wanted to keep them all. I read them that evening and was surprised to learn that Clarissa was more perceptive than I knew. In one letter, written when Clarissa was twelve, Papa revealed her worries about my husband.

  Dearest Clarissa, my favorite granddaughter:

  I send you greetings and trust that you are applying yourself to your stu
dies every day. This is the time to develop a thirst for a lifelong love of learning.

  Always remember that you are your parents’ greatest treasure and that your father loves you, despite his frequent absences. He has to leave you and your mother because his commercial interests are burdensome and complex. Do not trouble yourself about your mother, because she has an intellect that is the match of any gentleman’s. She entertains herself with her literature and writing in her journal, which, I understand, you have no interest in undertaking. Please, dear, pay heed to your mother. Writing is a joy and offers a refuge from the troubles of the world.

  My peach, you similarly should not worry about your father. It is unfortunate that the young gentlemen of today do not practice moderation in all things. I have seen lives destroyed by the excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages, but I believe that your father will recuperate from his illness if he completes his physician’s prescribed course of treatment.

  My sweet pea, it concerns me that you believe that you overheard your father speaking to your mother in an uncivil tone and that you think that he struck her. That cannot possibly be the case, for your mother has never mentioned this to me, and your father is too much of a gentleman to ever hurt a lady.

  I had never mentioned any of these incidents to Papa, and I told him that my husband’s illnesses were caused by exhaustion. It was a relief that he did not believe what Clarissa told him. Had he known that my husband had been hitting me since Clarissa was an infant, Papa would have been distressed and blamed himself for encouraging me to marry. The first time that my husband struck me was after I confronted him about fathering Sarah. He went to my bedroom when Bessie was helping me to prepare for supper and dismissed her. I could smell the whiskey on his breath and his face was red.

  “Do not ever again interrupt me when I am working.”

  “But Cornelius…”

  “Mr. Allen…”

  “I only wanted to…”

  “I said, address me as Mr. Allen.” Then he slapped me and broke the lining of my mouth. I tasted iron, but I did not cry. For a moment, I believed that I was asleep and having a bad dream.

  “And never question me again. I am the master here and will do as I please.”

  After that, he did not always hit or kick me when he was angry. Sometimes he pushed me against the wall and applied pressure to my throat. Afterward, he either was complimentary or tormented me with his words.

  “Theodora, you really ought not to wear that color, as it makes you look longer in the tooth,” he enjoyed saying.

  Worse than the physical pain, however, were his threats for some perceived infraction. When he made such comments in Clarissa’s presence when she was younger, she cried, which made him angry. He once threatened to strike her because she put her arms around me and kissed my cheek.

  One year, at least twice a month, he went to my bedroom and forced me in a way that I cannot even describe. I did not know that anyone, especially a gentleman, committed such acts. When he was angry, I learned to ask Bessie to sleep in my bedroom when I feared that he was going to visit me after supper. As he aged, perhaps because of the whiskey and brandy that were his daily staples, his skin became sallow, his eyes sunken and surrounded by dark circles, and he became thinner. Eddie, his body servant, had to help him to his bedroom most evenings. I was thankful for those nights because he did not disturb me.

  When Sarah married her coachman, my husband ordered that I dismiss Mrs. Ellsworth.

  “Clarissa has been sufficiently educated, and Sarah can now be her chaperone with Isaac as Clarissa’s coachman.”

  “Mr. Allen, do you believe Sarah will be a satisfactory chaperone, given that she and Clarissa are the same age?”

  “If I did not think so, I would not have made the decision. And I want you to arrange for a betrothal ball to take place in two months.”

  Clarissa was not excited about the ball and had no interest in participating in the preparations. She spent weeks in Montgomery visiting with her grandparents. My husband’s family from Montgomery and his brother, Charles, and his wife, Emily, from Mobile attended the dance. Emily and I had an opportunity to speak privately the day before the dance. She brought me news of Mobile society and the ladies I had met during our visits there throughout the years.

  “Dear Theo, I was surprised to hear that our former coachman married your housekeeper’s daughter.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought that you knew that Isaac and Sarah are first cousins.”

  “No, I didn’t know. How are they cousins?”

  “My husband had a…concubine, a mulatto wench, and she was Isaac’s mother. After Isaac was born, I found out about her and told my husband to sell her, and he did, but he insisted on keeping Isaac on the plantation. I ask that you not speak of this to Cornelius because he may not know that Isaac is his brother’s son.”

  “No, I didn’t know… I assumed that only my husband engaged in such… I cannot even say it. But tell me, was it just the one or has he had others?”

  “I wish I could say that it had just been that one, but our plantation is not nearly as large as yours, so one hears things.”

  “But were any of the…servants…that is, did your husband ever conduct himself …inappropriately under your own roof?”

  “I don’t know. I have always chosen our house servants, and never pretty ones, from among the field hands or at auctions that I attend with my husband.”

  “My husband told me when we were married that I was never to concern myself with obtaining servants, but even if that had been one of my responsibilities, it would not have changed my predicament, as Emmeline was here before me.”

  “We’re not the only ones to suffer this way, Theo. It’s just that it’s not something we’re supposed to complain about.”

  Clarissa was uncharacteristically quiet at her betrothal ball. It was late afternoon, and some seventy of the two hundred guests were enjoying the festivities in my gardens before supper. The others were indoors, where they were spared the sun’s still harsh rays. I was sitting not too far from Clarissa and Julius, who were surrounded by perhaps twenty people. Everyone was drinking Emmeline’s special punch or wine that my husband had imported from France. A string quartet was playing on the verandah. The young children, Clarissa’s nieces and nephews, were playing at some game or the other involving tormenting the carp that I kept in ceramic Chinese bowls throughout the gardens.

  The group surrounding Julius and Clarissa was completely focused on him and paid her no attention, even though she was magnificent in an Alençon lace gown. Julius was a formidable figure, and he delighted the guests with tales. The scar on Julius’s face, which appeared faint when he was indoors, was striking. Sunlight accentuated the smooth skin that had been created by the healing of the wound. One woman, I believe the wife of a neighboring planter, asked Julius if that was the scar from his infamous duel. At first he appeared to be disturbed by her question, but then he smiled, touched his face, and said that he had earned it when he vanquished a scoundrel who had challenged him to a swordfight. While I had never heard the story, some guests were apparently familiar with this account.

  “I was on leave from West Point when a fellow whom I had known since childhood alleged that I had insulted his reputation and challenged me to a duel. He sliced my face, but I put my sword straight through his heart. Of course, I was not invited back to West Point after the incident, but my father was not disappointed, as he needed me at home to preside over his commercial concerns.”

  While Julius was speaking, I kept my eyes on Clarissa. She shivered when he said that he had murdered a man. I wanted to put my arms around my darling, but I did not want to draw attention to her discomfort. My cousin Eliza’s daughter, also apparently noticing Clarissa’s distress, whispered something that made her a bit more cheery. Julius looked at Clarissa in a way that chilled me, and suddenly, instead of feeling blissful because of my daughter’s engagement to be
married, I felt inexplicably guilty. Should I have fought my husband about his decision to agree to her marriage to Julius Cromwell?

  After the ball, Clarissa did not spend much time at home. With Sarah as her chaperone and Isaac as her coachman, she regularly visited her friends in neighboring plantations, her grandparents in Montgomery, and Mr. Cromwell in Talladega. My husband said that it was appropriate that she visited her intended without one of us present, as he was living at his parents’ home until his new house was completed. With Clarissa gone, I was alone most of the time. My husband did not disturb me in the evenings, which he spent with Emmeline.

  I received a letter with devastating news of my dear cousin Eliza. She had been ill with fever for two weeks, and I told my husband that I had to go to Georgia to be by her side. He did not object. Clarissa was in Montgomery at the time, and I wrote her about the developments. When I arrived at Eliza’s bedside, I held her, even though the physician said that I should not get too close. When her husband, Abraham, was not in the room, the physician said that her recovery was not likely.

  Abraham’s family loved Eliza, and his brother, Kenneth, had come from New York to be with her. Kenneth and I had met at Eliza’s wedding but had not seen each other since I was in New York, the second year of my marriage to Cornelius. He was recently widowed when I saw him there, where he had moved with his children after his wife’s death to teach at the university. He dined with us one night, but it was not a pleasant experience because my husband was boorish.

  “He does not speak about anything other than poetry and novels,” my husband said when we returned to the hotel.

  I told him that Kenneth had invited me to a literary salon to hear a poet who was visiting from London.

  “You are not attending. It is unseemly that you should accept an invitation to be seen alone with a widower.”