Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Gray (32 page)

She blew her nose and looked around the room like she was trying to memorize it. “As ready as I can be, I suppose.”

I went into the yard with her. My mother and old Judah, plus Young Daniel and Ephraim, crowded around Miss Markie, grabbing her hands, telling her good-bye and good luck and remember us kindly to Miss Mary and the girls. I handed her a letter for Miss Mary and watched the carriage roll down the hill and out of sight.

The next week when Daniel came back to fetch more of Miss Mary's things, he brought me a letter. I walked past the soldiers' tents and stacks of firewood they had made from Miss Mary's trees and sat on the lawn where I could see the river.

July 7, 1861

Kinloch

Dear Selina,

Your letter brought a ray of sunlight into this present darkness. I am greatly cheered to know that my gardens still survive despite the occupation of the Yankees. Please remind Ephraim that the lilac bushes nearest the rose garden must be pruned, and tell him not to forget to tend to my mock orange trees.

Precious Life has returned here from school and her lively presence is a balm to my empty days. The Genl writes as often as his schedule allows, but of course no letter can substitute for his kind and loving presence. My Turner cousins remember you well from our visit here when my children were small and have asked about you most sincerely. I have told them of your taking over as keeper of the keys and how that fact brings some measure of peace to my fevered mind.

I expect things to get worse before they get better. Just last week Aunt Maria wrote that a neighbor was accosted on the road and threatened by a band of perfectly lawless troops from New Jersey. Every day there are rumors of marches and countermarches, and in this atmosphere I cannot help feeling that some crisis is approaching.

That God may protect us and bring a swift end to this late unpleasantness is the constant prayer of your devoted friend, MC Lee

Three weeks later we got word that Confederates beat the Yankees in a fight in Manassas. Lawrence said surely the war was over, but no. It went on.

When Christmas came I went into the woods and cut some mistletoe and greenery for my cabin. My daddy made some corncob toys for my children. But it was nothing like in the olden times when everyone dressed up in their best clothes and went up to the house to call for Christmas gifts. I wasn't sure whether Thornton was still at White House or if he'd been hired out to the railroad. I didn't know where Miss Mary was either. There had been one letter after the news from Manassas that said she was moving someplace farther from the fighting. I hadn't heard a word since.

The next spring more soldiers showed up at Arlington. They cut more of the old trees that had sheltered my children; they helped themselves to the contents of the smokehouse and cleaned out the wine cellar. I could understand that. Even Northerners had to eat. But then one day I was up at the house polishing the staircase banisters and sweeping cobwebs from the windows when a bunch of rowdies crashed through the door and started helping themselves to the things Miss Mary had left in the parlor.

I went in there with the broom in my hand. “What do you think you're doing in here?”

One of the soldiers, a redheaded man with a face that looked like he lost a fight with an ice pick, grinned and said, “Spoils of war.”

“That's right,” said another one. “Nothing you can do about it, neither.” He picked up a little wooden side table. “This is real nice. My wife will enjoy it.”

I pointed my broom at him. “Don't you touch Miss Mary's things!”

“Aw, don't worry about it. She's so rich she won't hardly miss them.”

Another soldier came in carrying one of Missus Washington's engravings that Miss Mary had locked in a closet in the rear hallway. “Hey, fellas, lookee what I found. I bet this is worth something.”

I left them and went into the yard, where more Yankees were swarming like ants. I stopped the first one I saw, a tall, pale-faced man who stank of sweat and whiskey. “Where is General McDowell?”

He frowned at me. “Who wants to know?”

“I do.”

“Is that so? What's your name, girl?”

He looked at me like I was another piece of furniture, one more possession belonging to Arlington, and I thought about Missus counting our heads after a trip to the market, to make sure we all came back. I thought about standing with her in the china closet writing down what all was broken or missing, and how even Miss Mary thought of me as one more thing that belonged to her. Something broke inside me. I was done with being owned.

I stared at his hard, pale eyes. “I am Missus Gray.”

“Mrs. Gray, eh? Well, the general was headed to his tent the last time I saw him.”

I crossed the yard, stepping around the puddles left from the night's rain, and found the general sitting behind a little desk in his tent, the flaps tied back to let in the river breeze. He was barrel-chested and in a blue uniform with a double row of brass buttons that shone in the morning light. His dark hair was trimmed and parted. His mustache and goatee were tidy. General McDowell would have been an appealing man if it hadn't been for the bad manners he allowed his soldiers.

When I stepped to the door, still holding my broom, he set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, what is it?”

“General McDowell, your men are stealing from this house.”

He frowned. “And you are?”

“Mrs. Gray. I didn't say a word when they helped themselves to our food, but now they are breaking into locked closets, taking things that once belonged to President Washington.”

He shrugged. “If that's true, it's—”

“It is true. I just watched them with my own eyes.”

“All right. I'll speak to the captain and—”

“You think they will listen to him? You ought to take care of this your own self. Because the war will end someday. If I was you I would not want to be the one responsible for the loss of President Washington's belongings.”

He pushed back from his desk and reached for his hat.

I leaned on my broom and watched him walk up the front porch steps and into the house.

A little while later a wagon pulled up and a couple of soldiers started loading things onto it. General McDowell came over and said, “You may not believe me, but I have the most sincere sympathy for your mistress's distress.”

I didn't say anything. Just gave him a hard look. Because I didn't see any trace of sympathy in him.

“As far as it is compatible with my duty, I shall always be ready to do whatever may alleviate it.” He waved his hand toward the wagon. “To that end I have decided to remove Mrs. Lee's things to the Patent Office. They will be safe there until the war is over.”

“All right then. Reckon I ought to go feed my children. If there is any food left.”

“We won't starve you out. You have my word on that.” He tipped his hat. “And now you must excuse me, Mrs. Gray.”

I started back to my cabin. My knees had gone weak with the sudden realization of what I had done. A slave telling off a general of the United States Army. But I had to do it. Even though I wanted to leave Arlington for a home of my own, I still felt tied to that old place, with its years and years of memories.

My heart was heavy for the loss of things the soldiers had taken that would never be returned. But my feet were so light it seemed like I was floating. The shame and despair of being human chattel had gone from me, rising up like incense to the sky because the Yankee general had seen me as a person. My own words ran round in my head like a song heard over and over.
I am Missus Gray. I am Missus Gray.

More of the Binghams left Arlington that summer, some of them riding the soldiers' supply wagons that went back and forth across the river. Lawrence paid no attention to Mister McQuinn's orders and spent more and more time in the city, coming and going whenever he took the notion. When he came back he brought news of fighting in places like Shiloh, New Orleans, and Chattanooga.

Without the routine of keeping the house and tending the gardens and fields, time seemed to slow down, until it was hard to keep up with the days and months passing by. Before the war everyone at Arlington looked forward to Christmas, but that year it was just a regular day. I didn't care for myself, but it was hard to look into the expectant faces of my poor little children knowing there was nothing I could do to make a celebration for them.

Late on Christmas afternoon, the overseer came by with a
rabbit he had shot, and we fixed it for dinner. I was glad for my children to have something besides corn pone and sweet potatoes, but one rabbit couldn't turn the day into any kind of a happy occasion. Word had come that Thornton had gone to Romancoke, and I wasn't sure when I would see him again. I didn't know where Miss Mary was either.

Two weeks later I was outside getting some wood for the fire. Snow was coming down hard enough to cover the bare patches in the yard and soften the edges of the stables and abandoned slave cabins. Darkness was gaining on a winter sky the color of a wet stone. I picked up the sticks of firewood and started back to the cabin.

Mister McQuinn appeared out of the white mist and shoved a paper into my hands. “Christmas present from General Lee.”

I set down my burden and unfolded the paper.

Know all men by these presents that I, Robert Edward Lee, executor of the last will and testament of George Washington Parke Custis, deceased, acting by and under authority and direction of the said will, do hereby manumit and forever set free from slavery the following named slaves belonging to the Arlington estate.

My hands shook so hard the words wouldn't stay still on the paper. I leaned against the woodpile to steady myself.

George Clark, Charles Syphax, Selina Gray and Thornton Gray and their six children . . .

My knees would hardly hold me up. My eyes traveled with great speed down the page.

Margaret Taylor and her four children, Lawrence Parks and his nine children . . . Julie Ann Clark and her three children. Sally Norris and Len Norris and their three children Mary, Sallie, and Wesley . . .

My parents, and my brother and sister who had run away and been flogged for it . . . they were free, thanks be to God and all the angels and General Lee.

The Binghams—their names were written down too, on this glorious piece of paper more precious than gold. I wondered where they were and if they knew they were free.

I brushed the snowflakes off the paper and kept on reading. The second page had a list of Mister Custis's slaves from his other places—White House and Romancoke—and at the bottom the general had signed his name with his seal and the date: December 29, 1862.

“It means you are no longer in bondage.” The overseer flapped his hands. “You're free as a bird.”

“I know it. I can read.”

“You can leave here whenever you take a notion to. You and your children.” He bent his head against the cold and left me alone in the snowy yard.

Forever free. I folded the letter into my pocket and stood there in the pure silver light of that winter's night while the news sank in. Maybe it was the wind and the snow that burned my eyes until everything was a wet blur. But I don't know.

Maybe it was tears.

1862

M
ama.” Mildred glared at me as we climbed into the carriage, her sweet young face the very picture of mutiny. “Must we move yet again?”

Mary Custis settled herself opposite me and rolled her eyes at her youngest sister. “Why, no, Mildred Childe, it isn't at all necessary. It's just that it's such great fun playing hide-and-seek with the Union army.”

My head pounded and my stomach roiled. “Mary Custis, please. The situation is distressing enough without your sarcasm. Show a little compassion.”

In July, the Battle of Manassas and constant rumors of troop movements near Aunt Maria's house had forced us farther north and east, to Kinloch. Union troops lined the roads, battlements sprang up amid the greening meadows, sentries guarded bridges. Danger waited around every corner. I worried constantly for my husband and children, and for Selina and her family, at the mercy of the Yankee soldiers who had overrun my home. A thousand times I wished I could have sent her to a place of safety, but no place was safe.

Cousin Elizabeth and Thomas came out to see us off.

“Be careful, Mary,” Thomas said. “And keep an eye out for our Charles. Kinloch seems empty when my children are running hither and yon.”

My own family was scattered to the four winds. Annie had gone to the Wickhams' at Hickory Hill with Rooney's wife, Charlotte, and my little grandson. Agnes was in Richmond staying with Mrs. Warwick, a friend of the general's. And Custis was ordered to North Carolina.

Elizabeth passed a basket through the open carriage window. “Take this, Mary. It will tide you over until you reach your aunt Eleanor's.”

The carriage lurched, and we turned our eyes toward Audley, with its sad memories of Cousin Lorenzo. Once we were settled there, friends of Aunt Nelly's who lived nearby came to call, bringing news and greetings from other of my acquaintances who could not travel. I worried constantly about what was happening at Arlington. Was Selina all right? I hadn't heard from her in months. Were the Washington treasures still safe?

And most of all, what was happening with Robert? I lived for his letters. In early August a letter came, written from the town of Huntersville.

I returned here yesterday, dearest Mary, to visit this portion of the army . . . The soldiers everywhere are sick. The measles are prevalent throughout the whole army and you know that disease leaves unpleasant results, attacks on the lungs, typhoid, etc. etc. especially in camp where the accommodation for the sick is poor. I traveled from Staunton on horseback. A part of the road I passed over in the summer of 1840 on my return to St. Louis after bringing you home. If anyone had told me then that the next time I traveled on that road would have been on
my present errand I should have supposed him insane. Give love to Daughter and Mildred. I did not see Rob as I passed through Charlottesville. He was at the University and I could not stop.