Yellow Crocus (13 page)

Mattie snapped, “Lisbeth, I know you tryin’ to make me feel better. But ain’t no little flower gonna do it.” Mattie’s voice rose, “Ain’t no little bits of your left-over dessert gonna make me feel better. I scared for my son, child. Ain’t nothin’ gonna make me feel better but to see him again.”

Lisbeth’s face fell.

More gently, Mattie went on, “Now you go on and have that picnic without me.”

Lisbeth stared at Mattie, confused because her nurse had always loved the first picnic of spring, and then ran out of the room. Mattie considered going after her, but could not stir herself to action.

Mattie was not entirely surprised when Emily sought her out later that afternoon to tell her she was wanted in the drawing room. Someone must have seen that Lisbeth was upset because the child would not have complained to Mrs. Ann.

Mattie tapped gently on the drawing room door. The calm expression on her face belied the activity in her heart. She was never comfortable being called into Mrs. Ann’s presence, though these meetings were typically short and to the point.

When she entered the room and saw both Mr. Wainwright and Mrs. Ann waiting to speak with her she feared the worst. She stood before them, eyes turned down, wiping her sweaty palms on her dress.

“Mattie, we have news from the Andersons’,” Mrs. Ann stated. “It seems Samuel has disappeared. They want to know if you know anything about it.”

Mattie’s heart skipped a beat; blood rushed away from her head, making it impossible to focus on the words coming toward her. A hot, nauseous wave swept through her body. It was too soon! They were not supposed to leave for weeks yet!

“My baby,” escaped from her lips.

Then she staggered, working to hold herself up while trying to make sense of the words coming out of Mrs. Ann’s mouth as she continued to lecture Mattie.

Eventually Mr. Wainwright broke in loudly, “Mattie, answer the question. Do you know where Samuel is? Is he being hidden anywhere? He is too young to have gotten far on his own.

Apparently he has been gone for several days now.”

“I don’ know nothin’ bout my son. Ask the Good Lord if you want to know where he at.”

“Now Mattie, angry words are not called for. I am certain the Andersons made him welcome. They are good people. He did not give it enough time. It takes awhile to adjust to a new home.”

Mattie had no response.

“They will want to speak with you directly. I will bring you over in the morning. Good night,” declared Mr. Wainwright.

Early the next morning, Lisbeth stood in the doorway adjoining her room to Mattie’s. She watched as Mattie pulled a clean dress over a crisp white slip. Mattie carefully and efficiently buttoned up the front of her bodice.

“Mattie, how long will you be gone?” Lisbeth inquired as Mattie adjusted her necklace.

“Don’ know.”

“But you will be home to eat dinner with me?” implored Lisbeth.

“Don’ know.”

“Oh, Mattie, I am scared for you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ they can do gonna be worse than my son gone missin’,” Mattie said, though horrible visions of whips, humiliation, and pain ran through her head.

Mattie fixed her hair in silence while Lisbeth watched.

“You missed some,” Lisbeth pointed out as Mattie pulled her hair into a bun. Lisbeth reached up to put the stray lock into Mattie’s hand.

“Thank you, honey,” Mattie said.

She gave Lisbeth’s hand a quick squeeze as she took the stray hair and then put it in its place. She turned to Lisbeth. Cupping Lisbeth’s chin in her hand, Mattie tipped Lisbeth’s head back until they were looking at each other eye to eye. Staring at one another wordlessly, Mattie gave a small shake of her head, sighed, and pulled Lisbeth into a tight hug. Lisbeth clutched Mattie’s warm body until Mattie pulled away. Mattie looked down at Lisbeth, their arms still wrapped around one another, and said, “I gonna be all right.”

Mattie rubbed Lisbeth’s soft cheek with her thumb, kissed the top of her head, and stepped back. “Now you get on,” she told her.

Lisbeth watched Mattie’s skirts disappear through the small back door. After a moment she crossed the room and opened the door to the dim hallway that led to the back staircase. She could no longer see Mattie, but she heard her steps echoing down the stairs. She counted, 1…2…3…up to 13, until she could no longer hear Mattie descending away from her.

Lisbeth, alone and scared, watched from the window as Father drove Mattie away. She went to her lessons in the drawing room but had difficulty paying attention to Bible passages and arithmetic tables. Most days she ate her midday meal with Mattie, but today she ate with Mother and Jack. Mother acted as if it were common for her to have dinner with her children, but Lisbeth did not go along with the pretense. She met Mother’s inquiries with brief replies and obviously stared out the window looking for Mattie. Jack, on the other hand, happily shared every detail of his day, oblivious to the tension in the room.

While she tried to eat tasteless barley soup, Lisbeth heard the sound of wheels against gravel. She peered out the window again, but she could not get a good view of the road. Mother heard the sound too, but made no mention of it.

From the clamor in the entryway Lisbeth knew Father was home. But the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall to the study dashed any hope of news from him. As quickly as possible, Lisbeth finished her meal and went to her rooms to find Mattie.

But she was not there. Lisbeth’s heart fell when she did not find Mattie in either her large room or the small adjacent one. Although Lisbeth wanted to search for Mattie washing in the kitchen or ironing in the laundry, she did not go looking for her. Mattie would return to assist Lisbeth in getting ready for dinner. In the meantime, Lisbeth had to go with her mother to her lessons at the Cunninghams’.

The comportment teacher, Miss Taylor, had been teaching the daughters of plantation owners along the James River for as long as anyone remembered. Most ladies under the age of forty had been tutored by her. Etiquette, table manners, elocution, and dance were perfected under her tutelage. She transformed young girls, starting at the age of nine, into young ladies in order to facilitate the most advantageous marriage.

Lisbeth’s twice-weekly lessons rotated on a monthly basis between the homes of the girls taking them. This gave all the mothers the ability to observe the lessons, see one another’s homes, and play hostess for the women as they waited for their daughters. It also gave them the opportunity to assess their own daughter’s standing in relationship to the other girls.

Lessons this month were at White Pines, the largest Tidewater estate east of Richmond. The Cunninghams had the distinction of being one of the older families and were thought to be the wealthiest in the area. Their daughter, Emma, ten years old like Lisbeth, was preparing for her debut in the same year. But of more interest to the debutante families was Emma’s fourteen-year-old brother, Edward. As the eldest son he stood to inherit the entire family estate.

Miss Taylor started lessons with a meal course to impart table manners and proper use of cutlery. They needed to learn about all the courses of a meal, so they rotated which course was served at each lesson. All the girls agreed that the dessert course was their favorite lesson. Soup was the least favorite because there were so many opportunities to be scolded.

The meal portion of the lesson was followed by comportment.

“Young ladies may speak to young men about the weather, meals, clothing, and their relatives. Avoid conversation concerning politics, finance, or religion. Though a gentleman may bring up such topics, and a lady must follow where a gentleman leads, a skilled lady will return the conversation to an appropriate topic.”

The girls feigned interest as Miss Taylor went on, “When speaking with a lady who is older than you, you must follow her lead. Occasionally, though, you will be required to initiate conversation. Fashion, the weather, and inquiries about relations are always appropriate topics among ladies. Do not allow a gentleman to overhear you speaking about courtship, literature, or politics.”

With so many rules about what to say and what not to say, Lisbeth’s head spun. Her mind drifted to Mattie as Miss Taylor gave instructions about speaking with elderly men. When they practiced their conversation skills, Lisbeth was paired with Camilla Anderson, who remarked loudly enough for all to hear, “Elizabeth, you must have misunderstood. A lady does not speak about relations with an older gentleman!”

Lisbeth was relieved to move on to dance and away from Camilla.

“Girls, line up across from your dance partner,” Miss Taylor commanded. “Today we learn the Virginia Reel. As always, begin by honoring your partner.”

The “ladies” curtseyed as the “gentlemen” bowed.

“Miss Ford, that was a perfect curtsey. You all would be wise to follow Miss Ford’s lead,” Miss Taylor said. “Now, repeat after me, forward two steps, back two steps.”

The girls chimed back, “Forward two steps, back two steps.”

“Very good. Begin when I return to one. One, two, three, four. One…”

Miss Taylor plodded through the steps. In truth, she danced terribly with little sense of rhythm. But none of the parents cared; she served her purpose well, preparing their daughters for their debuts.

The girls would begin attending dances after their twelfth birthdays. Although eighteen or nineteen was the traditional debutante year—the year courting began in earnest—the early years on the dance circuit allowed the families of eligible young men plenty of time to observe the girls and make a decision about whom to invite into their families. Of course, in such a small community, they had been speculating for years about which matches might be made among the Tidewater plantations and which families might go beyond.

Lisbeth felt grateful Mary Ford was present at these lessons. Still as cooperative as she was as a young child, Mary paid close attention, so Lisbeth needed only to follow her cues. Although Mary never disrupted class, she happily joined Lisbeth afterward to complain about the arrogant Camilla Anderson or to laugh at the awkward Edith Framington.

“Mary, they took Mattie away today,” Lisbeth whispered to her friend.

“Who took her? Where?”

“Father took her to the Andersons’. We sold Samuel to them, Mattie’s son, and then he ran. They want her to tell them where he went.”

“That explains Camilla’s attitude toward you today.”

“She does not need an excuse to be rude. I wish to know what will happen to Mattie, but I dare not ask. Mother had dinner with us today and pretended it was entirely common.”

“How long will she be gone?”

“I do not know. No one will tell me anything. I expect she will be home when I need her tonight.”

But Mattie was not waiting to dress Lisbeth for supper. Sullen Emily stood ready to assist Lisbeth. With her usually efficiency, Mrs. Gray had ensured all the functions of the household were filled properly, but no one provided answers to a young girl’s unspoken questions.

No answers came over supper or in the drawing room after supper. That night, as Lisbeth stared out the window, she said an extra-fervent prayer for her nurse. “Dear Lord, please watch over Mattie tonight and bring her home soon. And bless Mother, Father, Jack, and Grandmother. Amen.”

Over breakfast the next morning, Lisbeth finally asked Mother when to expect Mattie, but Mother only responded, “This is nothing you need be concerned about. We are handling this issue.”