The Wedding Gift (18 page)

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.”

“But…”

“You are not going, and I will entertain no discussion about it.”

“I will ask someone to take him a note that I…”

“No, you will not. I will inform him of my decision.”

Twenty years later, Kenneth was still a professor in New York and had not remarried. He was now a poet of some renown.

“And you, Mrs. Allen, are you still writing?”

“I keep a journal, but I would not call it writing.”

“Of course it is. Did you bring it?”

“Yes, I carry it everywhere.”

“Excellent. If you oblige me, I’ll read some of my poems and you can read selections from your work.”

“I would enjoy your poetry very much, but my humble journal is not worthy of being read.”

“Nonsense. Please, Mrs. Allen, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to hear you read to me.”

We spent the next five days either with Eliza’s husband and children or reading to each other in the parlor. On the fifth night we were there, Eliza asked Kenneth to read her his poetry. No one in the household slept that night. My dear Eliza passed in the early hours of the morning, but I am comforted that, while she drew her final breath, she experienced beauty in the form of Kenneth’s finely crafted words.

I was relieved to find when I arrived home that my husband had gone to Mobile. Three weeks after my return, I received a letter from Kenneth. He had written a new poem and dedicated it to me. I wrote him and thanked him for the lovely gift, but I asked him not to write me again, as my husband would not find it appropriate. The next time that Mrs. Tutwiler visited, I showed her Kenneth’s poem and told her that I had asked him not to write me again.

“But why? There is nothing untoward about the letter or poem.” I told her about the incident in New York. “Perhaps that was just a newlywed husband’s jealousy?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Does Mr. Allen…open your correspondence?”

“Yes.” I was so ashamed.

“Mr. Tutwiler does not see the mail when it comes in. It is my responsibility. Why don’t you tell the professor to send your letters to me at my home?”

“You are such a dear friend. But what if your husband learned of it?”

“He would not find out, but if he did, he would think that the professor was writing to me and he would laugh at the thought that a gentleman was sending me poetry.”

I thus imposed on my friend to receive Kenneth’s letters to me, and I am glad that I did so, because I do not believe I would have withstood the forthcoming events without Kenneth’s wise counsel and reminders that, despite the ugliness of life, one can find succor in beauty.

When Clarissa was betrothed, I told her it was unseemly that she was traveling so frequently and that she needed to stay home to assist me with her wedding arrangements.

“Mama, please. Why do we have to do so much now? The wedding is almost two years from now.”

“It may seem as if it is far in the future, but I assure you it is not, and you have been spending too much time away from home. Does your intended know about your constant visits to Montgomery? Also, I believe your father would be displeased to know the true reason for your visits there. I want your word that the next time you go to Montgomery you will not see Mr. Evans.”

“But, Mama, I don’t go to Montgomery to see Mr. Evans.”

“Do not lie to me, Clarissa.”

“All right. I’m sorry. I won’t go as far as Montgomery. May I still see my friends close to home?”

“Yes, puppet, but limit your visits to about every two months.”

“Mama, please. I won’t be going far. Oh, and, Mama, Aunt Martha wrote Papa that I never visit her.”

“You may certainly visit your aunt as often as you wish.”

Clarissa did indeed stay home more after this conversation and assisted with her trousseau, but she was gone at least once a week. My husband said that he was glad that Clarissa was visiting his widowed sister, who lived by herself in a large house in Macon County. One afternoon, Clarissa and I were reading in the parlor after dinner when she ran from the room with her hand covering her mouth. I followed her upstairs and found her retching into a chamber pot. When she was finished, I asked her whether something she had eaten made her sick.

“Yes, I think the meat was not fresh. Don’t you?”

“No, I don’t feel at all ill. Are you better?”

“Yes, a little.”

I rang the bell for Sarah and told her to see Emmeline about something for Clarissa’s stomach. Sarah brought her ginger tea. Clarissa drank it and slept until supper. She ate well that evening but retired early because she was fatigued. Her nausea continued for several days.

“Puppet, shall we summon the doctor?”

“No, Mama. I’ll be better soon.”

She was not improved, however, and I called for the physician. He examined her and pronounced her fit. He prescribed bed rest. By the next day, she was well but did not resume her normal activities. She did not speak about visiting anyone and was content to read in the garden or on the verandah.

She visited me in my chambers one evening as I was dressing for supper and dismissed my maid. “Bessie, I need to speak with Mama, alone.”

When Bessie was gone, Clarissa said that she was bored with visiting and wedding preparations and that she wanted to be married soon.

“Darling, why the sudden change of heart? Did you not vehemently tell your father and me that you were glad to have a lengthy engagement?”

“I know, but….” She sobbed and I held her, patting her on the back.

“Puppet, tell me what you are thinking.” She was silent. “Clarissa, there is nothing that you cannot tell me.” She looked at me but did not speak. “Really, puppet, anything.”

“He forced me, Mama. He forced me.”

“What? What do you mean? Clarissa, what are you telling me?”

“About three months ago, when I visited him, he made me… When we went riding…there was no one else there. We stopped and got off the horses. He put a blanket on the ground.”

I could, not believe what she was telling me. “Was this Mr. Evans?”

“No, no, not him, it was Jul…him, that man Papa is forcing me to marry.”

“Clarissa, are you certain?”

“What do you mean, am I certain? How could you ask me that?”

“My darling, puppet, I’m so very sorry. Oh…and that is why… oh my dear Lord, that is why you were sick. Dear Lord, what are we going to do? We must tell your fa….”

“No, we can’t tell him. You know what he’ll do to me. He’ll say it was my fault.”

“Clarissa, your father would never hurt you, and he would believe you.”

“How can you say that after what he has done to you?”

“He loves you and I am confident that he would not treat you in the same manner.”

“Well, I am not sure of that. Please, Mama. Let’s just tell him that I’m prepared to be a married lady.”

“Darling, he will not believe you. You should abandon that line of thinking. After all, I did not believe you, and your father is more intelligent than I am. Besides, you did initially tell him that you did not want to marry Mr. Cromwell. We will tell him together. You are his pet and he has never denied you anything. And, after all, he did consent to your visits to Mr. Cromwell without us to chaperone you.”

“That is true, Mama. I hope he remembers that.”

“All right, puppet. We’ll tell him after supper. Not a word to anyone, not even to Sarah.”

Clarissa and I made an effort to appear as if nothing unusual had occurred. Cornelius had a bottle of wine by himself at supper and brandy after we dined.

“Mr. Allen, Clarissa and I want to speak with you privately.”

“Certainly. What do my favorite ladies have to discuss, details of the wedding?”

We went to Clarissa’s room. She and I were silent.

“Who is going to speak?”

“Mr. Allen, something…horrible happened to…Clarissa.”

“What?”

“About three months ago…”

“Not when, what?”

“She was visiting Mr. Cromwell and….”

“And what? Say it.”

“He violated her.”

“What do you mean by ‘he violated her’?”

“He forced himself upon her. They were riding, just the two of them.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at me and then at Clarissa. He lifted her from the chair. “You little bitch. You couldn’t keep your legs closed until you were married? Dear God. Jesus Christ. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Papa….”

“Be quiet.”

He dropped her and she fell back into the chair.

“You selfish slut, I’m not even close to finalizing the business arrangements with his father.” He paced and was silent for a moment. “Before you went riding, you told him that you could not ride alone with him, correct?”

“I didn’t want to go riding. I preferred to stay in the garden where we were having tea with his parents.”

“Good. His parents were present when he asked you to go riding. But listen carefully to what I’m saying: you told him that you could not ride alone with him, without a chaperone.”

“No, Papa. I didn’t actually say that.”

“You are a whore. Why would you ride alone with a man who was not your husband? He forced you, you say? It seems to me as if you threw yourself upon him.”

“No, Papa. That’s not….”

He closed his hand on her throat. She tried to scream, but he applied pressure. Tears fell down her face. I tried to pull his arm away, but he pushed me off with his other hand. He released Clarissa and struck me in the abdomen. I bent over and fell to my knees. Clarissa was crying with her head in her hands.

“Stand up.”

She did not obey him.

“When I order you to do something, you do it.”

He struck her. Then he spoke again, but as if to himself. “I will invite them here. I will make my dowry terms much more favorable, and we will have to appeal to the mother as well as the father. I will say that the wedding should be held sooner. Oh dear God. You’re expecting, aren’t you? That is why you told your mother. You wouldn’t have said anything otherwise. You conniving bitch!” He looked at me.

“This is all because of your failure to properly raise her.” He slapped me. “You two will speak to the mother separately. I expect a lot of tears from you. Do not say that he forced her, but that he ‘took her honor’ and that the only way to restore it is for them to be married immediately.”

He departed and I rang the bell for Sarah to help me with Clarissa. We took off her clothes. Her throat was red and mottled. I told Sarah to ask Emmeline for something to help Clarissa. The remedy was successful. I stayed with her until she fell asleep and returned to my rooms. Bessie was sitting on her cot.