A Woman of Independent Means (9 page)

Annie has now become an American citizen and therefore finds domestic service increasingly distasteful. She and Hans moved out of the servants' quarters over our garage last month and into a sweet little house of their own. Annie is having a baby in August—their first child—but has promised to work for us until mid-summer.

Of course our dear Mrs. McCullough will be here with the children. She is devoted to them and they to her. They never tire of her Scottish tales and I must admit to occasional eavesdropping myself. Her son is doing very well at the country club. He has taught the game of golf to most of the prominent businessmen in the city. Rob took a few lessons but rarely has time to play. However my game continues to improve.

Lydia brings little Marian over every day for a visit. It is only in recent months that I have come to appreciate my sister-in-law. She plays the piano for the children and makes up little songs and dances to encourage Eleanor to do her exercises. Eleanor is moving much better now, but she has had to go through the experience of learning to walk all over again. It breaks my heart to see her fall, then bravely get up and begin again.

I must get back to my packing. I am using the guest room as a center of operations. There are clothes everywhere. What are women wearing in New York City this year? My head is in a whirl.

Love to you both,
Bess

April 20, 1917
Dallas

Mrs. Dwight Davis
33 Stonybrook
Westport, Connecticut

 

Dear Totsie,

How wonderful it will be to see you again—and to meet the man you talked about night and day the whole year we roomed together. Was it just eight years ago? I feel I have lived a lifetime since then. It is my conviction that the woman I am at twenty-six is the woman I will be for the rest of my life, but the girl I was at eighteen is gone forever. Or is she? I suppose I should leave it for you to decide.

I am anticipating this trip with such pleasure. Rob and I have had so little time together in recent years. It is ironic that the very ties that bind a husband and wife in theory—home and family—often serve to separate them in fact. Rob is no longer the man I married any more than I am the girl you remember, but I am not always sure who he has become.

When we were first married, I was perhaps more ambitious for him than he was for himself. But now he never stops looking for new opportunities for investment, and unfortunately they always seem to require large investments of time and energy as well as money. There are men in this part of the country building empires and I feel my husband will be one of them. There was a day when I could account for every penny he earned. Now, except for my household allowance, which has always been extravagant, I have no idea how much money he makes or where it goes.

I always thought marriage meant the merging of two lives into one—but the only mergers that really capture Rob's imagination are ones that show a growth and profit potential. Our bodies continue to share the same space, but our souls are becoming strangers.

I didn't know until I started writing this letter just how much I had missed you all these years. Remember how we used to fall asleep talking? Well, I am doing it again. It is 3 A.M. and I still have so much to tell you, but it will have to wait till I see you.

Je t'embrasse,
Bess

April 17, 1917
Dallas

Miss Josephine Farrow
2514 Elm Street
Syracuse, New York

 

Dear Cousin Josie,

Although we have never met, I have heard my father speak of you so often I trust it will not seem improper for me to address you as familiarly as he does.

My husband and I are traveling to New York City on May 4 for a two-week stay, and I would like very much to take a train to Syracuse one day to see you. My father has spoken so often of the kindness your mother and father showed him as a boy. I don't think he ever quite recovered from the loss of his mother at the age of eight, but his pain was eased by the loving way he was included in the life of your family.

Twice now my father has suffered the untimely loss of the most important woman in his life—first his mother, then his wife—which may explain why he chose someone so young when he remarried. Whatever else he expects from her, I feel certain he is counting on her to outlive him.

He has been very concerned about your recent illness. I have no wish to impose, but since I do not know when I will be coming east again, I would not want to miss the opportunity to meet you and get to know more about my father's side of the family.

Best regards,
Bess Steed

May 10, 1917
The Waldorf
New York City

Dear Papa and Mavis,

I spent yesterday with Cousin Josie at her home in Syracuse. She is very weak and coughs a great deal. She no longer receives any visitors but was kind enough to see me since I had come so far. I don't know how she would have managed without your support all these years, Papa. Her only other relative is a niece, who married and moved to another town. She writes occasionally but provides nothing in the way of financial aid.

I was distressed to learn that Cousin Josie has never made a will. She has no money, of course, but her home is filled with priceless antiques, which belonged to her parents and by rights should go to you when she dies. However, a court, unaware of your generous support, might designate her niece as legal heir.

Rob and I are thoroughly enjoying all that New York City has to offer. If it were not for the children, I could stay indefinitely.

The train trip was like a honeymoon for us—two days uninterrupted by business or family. I expect it will soon be feasible to cross the country by air, and, however happy a prospect that may be for some people, how sad it will be for women like me, married to men who will always choose the fastest means of transportation available.

Rob reserved a luxurious suite for us here. Unlike many of his associates, he enjoys spending money as much as making it, an attitude I share completely.

I have become completely stagestruck on this trip, seeing more plays in the past week than in my whole life until now. And what radiant performances! I will always treasure Ina Claire in
Polly with a Past
and Fay Bainter in
The Willow Tree
. I also love the way we live here—we go to the theater every night and dine afterward. There is nothing like champagne to ensure sweet dreams.

Rob is so quick to act on my slightest whim. I am as spoiled as a woman as I was as a child. And not only enjoy it but have come to expect it. There are those who would shake their heads in disapproval. But in my experience the most loving and generous people are those who have been loved. Having been given everything I wanted as a child and now as a wife, I live only to do the same for my family and friends. I am convinced that if every child in the world were spoiled, there would soon be an end to war and crime.

I hope you are enjoying your stay at our house and the children are not taxing your affection.

Much love,
Bess

May 12, 1917
The Waldorf
New York City

My precious angels,

Your father and I miss you very much and I hope the next time we come to New York City all of you will be with us. But we will be bringing quite a bit of the city home with us. Just wait till you see the treasures I have packed in my trunk. I spent all yesterday afternoon in the most wonderful toy store I have ever seen. I have heard people speak of the lack of manners in this part of the country, but I have been treated with the utmost courtesy everywhere I go. The clerk at the toy store in particular seemed to take a personal interest in all of you and gave me much good advice in making my selections.

How is your tunnel coming, Robin and Drew? Mother Steed is afraid you will be buried alive. She says she holds her breath from the time you disappear behind the rose bushes until you emerge again at the birdbath. Perhaps it would be best if you delayed further excavations until our return.

Eleanor, my dumpling, I am delighted to hear of your progress. I live for the day I hold open my arms and you come running into them.

A kiss and a hug for each
of you,
Mummy

May 15, 1917
The Waldorf
New York City

Dear Lydia,

Rob and I have just returned from a weekend in Connecticut with my college roommate and her husband. As long as Totsie and I were just exchanging letters, we remained the best of friends. But our visit, instead of bringing us closer, has increased the distance between us.

Perhaps it was our husbands that made us seem like strangers. The two men come from such different worlds. Her husband was sent to boarding school at an early age and though deprived of his family's presence, their name was always ahead of him, opening every door. It incensed me to see that he considered himself superior to Rob, without having done anything to earn that distinction. I am determined to give my children all the advantages of wealth and position, if only to prove how meaningless they are. Then none of them will ever be made to feel as uncomfortable as Rob did all weekend.