The Kitchen House (33 page)

O
UR WEDDING CEREMONY TOOK PLACE
in the late afternoon on the sixth of October, 1801. We had meant to have it in the parlor, but the day was so beautiful, the garden still so pretty, and our wedding party so small that we decided at the last minute to change plans. Meg and Henry stood with us as we took our vows amid the sound of birdsong and the scent of late-blooming honeysuckle. I wore an ivory satin gown, very high-waisted, with elbow-length sleeves, and on my feet I had the prettiest pointed slippers ever made. Meg pinned up my hair and nestled in it pearl clips and small rosettes of ivory satin ribbon.

About a month before the wedding, in a rare moment of privacy, Marshall had informed me that an account had been set up in my name. Mr. Madden was in charge of it, but I was to use it for the sole purpose of seeing to my needs. When Marshall told me the sum, I was astounded and said I had no need of that amount. He laughed. “You will require all of that and more! I want you to have a new wardrobe.”

“But I don’t need—”

“This is not about need, Lavinia. You will be my wife, and I want to see you well dressed. Remember, if this is not a sufficient amount, you have but to ask.”

“Might I use some of this for gifts?”

Again he laughed. “You may use it for whatever you like, but promise me I will see a new wardrobe. And don’t forget your wedding gown.”

On our wedding day, as Mr. Madden led me down the brick
walk toward my intended, I looked up to see Marshall’s approving smile and was flooded with gratitude. Because of him, my future was secured, and I was going home. After the short ceremony, drinks were made available, and our guests—among them Mr. Degat, Mr. Alessi, and Mrs. Ames—joined to offer us a toast for a long and happy marriage. Then began a round of individual toasts that ended with everyone very gay indeed. After the sun set, we went into the front parlor, which had been cleared of furniture. Mr. Alessi, with a group of musicians, played music that no one could resist, and soon we were all dancing joyfully. I was pleased to see that Marshall handled the drink as well as any of us. As a matter of fact, it relaxed him as it did me, and the two of us laughed and teased each other as though we were children.

Later, Miss Sarah called us all into the dining room, where we enjoyed a feast that Nancy and Bess had prepared over the last few days. By eleven o’clock that evening, everyone had left. Marshall and I stayed that night with the Maddens, and we all soon retired, each to our separate rooms. Marshall and I slept apart; he had suggested we get a good rest before the start of our journey the following morning.

In bed that night, when I reflected back to the joy of the day, I could not sleep. Added to that was the excitement of going home.

We left early the next morning, our coach piled high. Meg and I clung to each other until Marshall teased that he would leave without me. Meg ran into the house when I climbed into the carriage, and I didn’t look back to wave at the Maddens for fear of my own tears beginning. When we drew up to the public hospital, another coach waited, with Miss Martha already settled in. Two hospital attendants were with her for the journey; after we reached Tall Oaks and their patient was settled, they would return to Williamsburg.

Words could not express what I felt that morning. The other carriage led the way, and as it left, our ready horses bolted. Distracted, I flew off the seat. Marshall’s quick embrace caught me or
I would have been thrown. I turned in his arms and met his eyes, then surprised us both when I kissed his mouth. I sat back and blushed while he chuckled quietly. We were on our way! We were going home! A profound gladness overtook me. Tears of joy filled my eyes, and I looked out the window through prisms of color as Williamsburg faded away.

Belle

W
E DON’T HEAR FROM
L
AVINIA
for a long time, until she writes that now she’s gonna marry Marshall. I don’t write back. What do I say? What happened to the other man? How do you get with Marshall? What are you thinking to marry Marshall?

I say to Mama maybe this’ll turn out good, but Mama don’t like it. “Nothin’ good gonna come from this,” she says. “That boy got trouble comin’ his way, and I don’t like to think that Lavinia gonna be part of it.”

I start to worrying about Marshall getting at me again, but Will Stephens says that I’m his now, and Marshall got no say over me. Will says he’s got one more year to run this place, then we’re going to his farm down a mile from the quarters, other side of the creek. I know his farm’s gonna work out good, ’cause since Will’s here, Ben and Papa say this place is doing the best it ever do.

One day after we get Lavinia’s letter, the Maddens send a wag-onload of crates from Williamsburg. Will Stephens takes them up to the big house, and we’re all there while he opens them up. We stand back, nobody saying nothing, when he pulls out the red and white paper to put up on the walls. Papa helps him unwrap two new red chairs and then bolts of cloth that looks like the color of top cream and feels soft like my own skin. When they’re done, Will reads us the letter from Mrs. Madden that tells us to put all of this in a bedroom for Lavinia.

Fanny’s wondering if this is why Lavinia’s gonna marry Marshall, that she’s wanting all these pretty things. “If that’s why she’s marrying him,” I say, “she sure is changed. The only time I ever
see Lavinia wanting something for herself was the time she took Beattie’s baby doll. And then she was just looking for something to love.”

Will says he got orders for us to move Marshall’s bedroom down to the good parlor. We don’t ask no questions, we just work hard to get everything done like the letter says. The big house looks as good as when Miss Martha leaves, and we’re all wondering if she’s coming back. Her room’s ready for her if she do.

Everybody knows a big change is coming. Fanny, Beattie, Sukey, they’re all watching for the carriage every day. Me too. But Ben says if Marshall ever touches me again, he’s a dead man.

I never did see Mama this quiet before.

Lavinia

I
T WAS A LONG JOURNEY
home. In spite of the experienced attendants, I was required to travel in Miss Martha’s coach for extended periods of time. I learned quickly that Marshall had little patience for his mother, though I noted he had planned ahead to meet her needs. At every tavern stop along the way, she was immediately taken to her room, where her attendants cared for her until the following morning. At great cost, I was provided with my own room. I did wonder why Marshall did not join me; I knew he often spent the nights in a communal room with other travelers.

Each day became more difficult for Miss Martha. On our last day of travel, I knew it would be easiest for her if I spent the full day in her carriage, so that morning I urged Marshall to saddle his own horse and ride ahead. I could see his relief at my suggestion, and he did not wait to do exactly that.

In the late afternoon, with Miss Martha finally sleeping, we drove up the long drive that led to Tall Oaks. The green boxwood on either side of the winding road had grown tall, and when the grand house came into view, it glistened with a fresh coat of whitewash. As we pulled up, I saw smoke rise from the kitchen house, and I could scarcely keep from leaping out. I felt certain everyone would be at the big house waiting to greet me and was disappointed to see only Papa George out front. When he opened the coach door and helped me down, I reached to embrace him, but he deftly stepped back. He must have recognized my hurt, for he held tight my gloved hand and gave me a small formal bow. He pretended to look into the carriage before he asked, “Did you see Miss Abinia? They say she comin’ home.”

“Oh, Papa.” I laughed. “You know this is me.”

“My, my.” He looked at me and shook his head. “Miss Abinia come back to us, and now she a lady.”

“I’m the same as ever, Papa.” I looked around. “Where is everyone?”

Before he could answer, Mama Mae came through the front door. I forgot all about Miss Sarah’s proper decorum and called out Mama’s name as I raced up the steps to greet her. I threw my arms around her, and though she did not discourage my embrace, she did not prolong it. I would have worried at this had I not seen another’s sparkling eyes over Mama Mae’s shoulder.

I doubt I would have recognized Fanny if it hadn’t been for her familiar eyes. At seventeen, with a broad forehead and prominent teeth, she remained as plain as ever.

She had grown tall and was very thin, but what so changed her appearance was the head rag she wore. I was used to seeing her black hair, usually in braids, framing her face. The wrap of dark navy did nothing to flatter her deep brown color. “Fanny!” I called out as I crossed the threshold and went toward her. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mama give Fanny a nod.

Fanny stepped back to execute an odd attempt at a curtsy. “Miss Abinia, it sure good to have you back home with us.”

I thought her formality a joke and would have laughed had the exhausted attendants not then appeared with Miss Martha. Their patient was confused and upset, and to my disappointment, she did not recognize home. Mama, Fanny, and I took Miss Martha to her room. I measured out her next laudanum dose, and as it took effect, Mama and Fanny readied her for bed. While she settled, I looked around and saw how everything shone. I complimented Mama and Fanny on how well the house had been cared for.

Mama smiled. “You gonna be the fine young mistress,” she said.

“Oh, Mama,” I said, “don’t call me that!”

“That who you be now,” she said. “When he come home this mornin’, Masta Marshall make it clear that we to call you the mistress.”

Embarrassed, I didn’t know how to respond. My face burned.

“Abinia,” Mama said softly to me, “that name don’t mean nothin’. Everybody here know who you are to them, don’t you worry about that.” Fanny nodded her agreement.

When Miss Martha slept, Mama told me to go downstairs, where Marshall waited for me in the dining room. I had little hunger, though by now it was suppertime. When I got to the dining room, Marshall was already seated. I saw Uncle Jacob waiting by the table.

“Uncle!” I rushed in joyously until I caught Marshall’s eye. His look cooled me, and I slowed to a walk. Once seated, I turned to Uncle. “How are you, Uncle Jacob?” I asked.

“I just fine, Miss Abinia,” he said. His eyes did not meet mine, and I was reminded of the coolness of the servants in Miss Sarah’s home. Before I could attempt further conversation, Marshall broke in with talk of the plantation and his ideas for the future. At the end of the meal, Beattie came to clear the table. Although she, too, was wearing a head rag, hers was a pretty yellow, and I would have known her anywhere. She was shorter than Fanny, but her body was more curvaceous. Her gentle brown eyes shone, and when she smiled, she was as beautiful as I remembered. I rose to go to her, but Marshall caught my hand and frowned. Reluctantly, I reseated myself. “Beattie!” I said. “How are you?”

“I just fine, Abinia.” She glanced at Marshall, then corrected herself. “Miss Abinia.”

Marshall asked Uncle for more wine, and Beattie took that moment of distraction to give me another smile. My eyes followed her when she left the dining room, and as the door swung open, I caught a glimpse of another young girl peeking through. This time I could not stop myself. I pushed my chair back from the table, ran to the door, and flung it open. The child’s hair was braided, and she was without a head rag. She had a full pink mouth, a round face, and large, serious eyes. She fingered the embroidered pink edging on the collar of her brown homespun shift, no doubt some of Beat-tie’s handiwork. I went through the door and let it close behind
me. “Sukey?” I asked, unmindful that I knelt on my best traveling dress. “Is this Sukey?”

She nodded shyly.

“Don’t you remember me?”

“You my Binny,” she said, and the world stopped when she came into my arms.