A Buss from Lafayette (12 page)

With a pang, I remembered the excellent care Dr. Lerned had given my mother at the end of her life. A picture of Mama’s thin, pallid face flashed into my mind. For a moment I could almost hear her terrible, rasping coughs as she labored to breathe. I also remembered the heartbreaking moment when Mother’s coughing was finally stopped by death, and Dr. Lerned carefully closed her eyes.

And now the good doctor would be helping someone else labor to begin a life.

To my surprise, I found myself hoping that all would go well.
After all,
I thought,
that is what my dear mother would have wanted for her sister.

C
HAPTER 19

Soon after the doctor departed in his workaday chaise, a somewhat more luxurious open carriage came up the hill and pulled into the farmyard: Uncle Timothy’s barouche.

My heart sank. This could mean only one thing: Dread Cousin Hetty had arrived.

Hetty’s mother, Aunt Penelope, always put me in mind of a rather tottyheaded chicken. The gowns and bonnets that she wore—always extravagantly decorated with lace and ribbons that fluttered like feathers—made her look like one, too. I was fond of her, however, and had always affectionately called her “Aunt P.”

Needless to say, I had never called Aunt Priscilla that. Not only did she disapprove of nicknames, but I was too intimidated to call her anything of that sort.

When Aunt P. entered the house, there was her usual flurry of hugging, kissing and, well, clucking.

Uncle Timothy came in behind his wife. He looked every inch the dignified country lawyer that he was. His looks were a bit deceiving, however, as there was
nothing he enjoyed more than impishly teasing his only child, not to mention me, whom he called his “favorite-albeit-only-niece.” He bowed to his sister-in-law, heartily shook hands with his brother and nephew, and finally bussed me on the cheek.

The last of the family to enter the house was Hetty. As usual, her carriage dress was of the latest fashion, with sleeves ballooning to her elbows and three stiff flounces belling out the skirt. It was the exact same blue as her eyes, matched by the blue ribbons and plumes of her stylish bonnet.

After Hetty flounced into the house, she shook hands with her aunt and uncle.

Then she gave Joss an unnecessarily lengthy hug, at least to my eyes.
I know that first cousins are allowed to marry,
I thought,
but I do hate to see Hetty throwing herself at my poor, unsuspecting brother.

Finally, my cousin directed a distant nod towards me.

Quite a difference from the way she used to treat me,
I mused.
She would play with me by the hour. I remember that often, after one of our “tea parties,” she would pick me up and twirl me around and call me her “dear little shadow.” Well, she obviously does not want me to be her shadow any longer.

“You must tell us all about meeting Lafayette, Henrietta,” said Prissy, motioning them all to follow
her into the parlor and to sit down. “How very interesting that must have been!”

Hetty looked around the room as if in search of the piece of furniture most becoming to her attire, then sank down gracefully on the blue damask sofa. She pulled out a lacy white fan and waved it in front of her face. “La, it was quite wonderful. Such a handsome gentleman! So noble. And so famous!”

“What a thrill for our Hetty,” Aunt P. said with a girlish giggle. “But I think that Lafayette was very pleased to meet her as well. I am certain that even he seldom sees such a beautiful girl. He spoke to her directly, you know, and more than just a greeting. He was not able to exchange words with all the other girls, except for the usual ‘howdeedos,’ of course.”

Uncle Timothy chuckled. “But we should tell them exactly what Lafayette said to Hetty, my dear. It was quite droll. I am happy to tell that tale.”

And he did, although Hetty did not appear pleased with his recital.

Apparently Lafayette had gone down the line shaking hands with the girls—all one hundred or more. When he went to shake Hetty’s hand, however, he saw that she was wearing his portrait on her gloves.

“Then he said ‘Sorry, my dear girl.’” Uncle Timothy grinned. “’I have stopped kissing the hands of ladies wearing my portrait on their gloves. Smacks too much
of
égotisme
. I feel a bit uneasy even shaking hands with myself, so I will just do this.’ Then he bowed to her.”

“’Twas a most elegant bow,” sighed Aunt P. “So very courtly and low. He probably bowed in just such a way in his youth to the poor French king.”

Hetty preened like a peahen. “It is too bad you will not be able to meet him, Clara. A French nobleman! A
marquis
! And so very rich! But I fear he will not be visiting every tiny village school like the one you attended.”

“Actually, Hetty, very soon I will be attending Hopkinton Academy. And, by the way, Lafayette is not a marquis anymore,” I said. “He gave up his title during the French Revolution.” I looked at my cousin, who was glaring back at me in a markedly hostile manner.

My goodness, why is she acting like that?
I wondered.
I should think she would like to know the facts about the famous man she was lucky enough to meet.

My stepmother did not seem to notice Hetty’s hostility, and nodded in agreement with my statement. “Yes, Lafayette did give up the title, and not just because people with titles like his lost their heads in the French Revolution. He truly believed no one was more ‘noble’ than anyone else simply because of an accident of birth. I understand that he now prefers to be called ‘General.’”

“And I am afraid he’s not quite so rich any more, either, Hetty,” said Father. “He spent nearly two hundred thousand dollars of his own fortune to help the American cause. That is an astronomical sum to
have
, let alone to give away!”

“And I am afraid that he lost most of the rest of his fortune during the French Revolution,” Prissy added.

Hetty looked stricken. “Not a
nobleman
? Not
rich
? Well . . . maybe he is really
not
so very handsome after all. In truth, he is rather chubby, although I thought it rude to tell you so before.”

Father, with an odd expression on his face as if he were trying not to laugh, explained that Congress had recently voted to give Lafayette two hundred thousand dollars and twenty-four thousand acres of land in Florida. “So the General has pockets lined with gold once more,” he said.

Uncle Timothy chuckled. “Does that make him any handsomer or—at the very least—
skinnier
in your eyes, Daughter?”

Hetty could not quite frame a reply.

I could not resist saying, “Rich again and a very noble man, though no longer a
nobleman,
Hetty. And still famous. Do not forget that!”

Aunt P. apparently decided to change the subject away from one not showing her adored daughter in the best light to an announcement that they would be
spending the night. Without a full moon, it was too dark to drive home after the dance. “That means the children will have plenty of time to visit,” she trilled, “and so will we, Priscilla.”

Oh, goody,
I thought.
Plenty of time to visit with Hetty. Just what I was hoping for.

“We must start for home early tomorrow, however,” Aunt P. blithely went on. “Timothy must be home for Monday morning appointments, and Hetty for school.”

“Traveling on the Sabbath?” Father teased her. “I thought you were against that, Penelope. As is my wife.”

His lawyer brother teased his own flustered wife by pointing out that although traveling on Sunday was still technically against the law, this law was not enforced any more. “We will simply have to go to church with you tomorrow morning before we leave for home,” Uncle Timothy went on. “That should balance out any Sabbath traveling, no matter how sinful
or
illegal!”

Hetty clapped her hands together. “I can hardly wait until the dance tonight!”

I am so glad I am not going,
I thought.
I do not particularly want to watch Hetty flirt with the whole town of Hopkinton.

“And I have the loveliest new ball gown! It is pale
pink satin, with a white lace overskirt with pink satin roses around the bottom!” Hetty gushed, sweetly smiling at the adults. “We had it made in Boston, you know.” My cousin turned to me with a smirk that was not quite so sweet.

Goody Two-Faced is
such
a good name for her,
I thought.

“Well, Samuel, I believe it is time you showed me that young filly of yours,” said Uncle Timothy. “No sense in staying here to talk about ball gowns and such. Flame, is it? I imagine she is fully grown now.”

“Of course, Brother, let us make our escape. Joss, are you coming?”

“Yes, let’s go. Flame promises to be a real ‘goer,’ Uncle,” Joss said excitedly. “I hope Father will allow me to ride her when I join the Troop. Only horses of a certain size and quality are allowed, and I believe that Flame will . . .” His voice faded as the men went out the door.

C
HAPTER 20

After we four females had been left alone, Prissy turned to me. “The other birthday gift I promised you is finished. Wait here a moment and I shall fetch it.”

A few moments later, I saw her come back into the room carrying what looked like a cloud of fabric. Fabric that looked like white silk embroidered with pale green leaves. Fabric that looked like . . .

“Mother’s wedding gown? You have done something to Mother’s
wedding
gown?” I spluttered. For as long as I could remember, I had treasured that gown and had secretly hoped to wear it for my own wedding day, if that day ever came.

“Well . . . yes,” Prissy said, looking a bit nervous about my reaction. “I had Mrs. Rix make it over into a ball gown for you, Clara. Caroline’s wedding gown had long sleeves and a very full skirt gathered at a high waist in the style of that time. There was enough material for Mrs. Rix to make up a new bodice with puffed short sleeves. That’s our dressmaker here in town,” she explained to her sister-in-law. “Mrs. Rix also created a new, lower waistline. My goodness,
waists have recently dropped so that they are almost at the
real
waistline.” She looked ruefully down at her voluminous maternity gown, billowing out over her distended belly in lavender-flowered folds. “For those ladies who actually
have
waistlines, that is.”

She shook out the ball gown so we could see the whole thing. “See, the skirt is now gored, rather than gathered, with the hem stiffened to make it stand out. I told Mrs. Rix to leave room in the skirt hem and in the bodice seams so she could make them fit if you grow any bigger.” She looked at me. “In a way, my dear, you paid for this dress yourself. Some of the strawberry jam you helped make has been credited to Mrs. Rix at Towne’s for the work she did on this gown.”

I stared at the gown and then lifted my eyes to hers. “Mother’s wedding dress. Now a ball gown. I do not understand.”

“Caroline confided to me that she hoped to see you wed in it, but styles do change. I think she would have liked you to wear it to your first ball.”

“But I am not going to any balls, ma’am.”

“Oh, yes, you are. Well, at least you are going to a
dance
.”

“Hardly a
ball
,” sniffed Hetty. “A little dance in a village tavern.”

I blurted out the first thing that came into my head. “No.”

Aunt P., Hetty, and Prissy all looked puzzled. “No?” they chorused.

“No, I am not going.”

“Yes, you are, my dear.” My stepmother looked at me with a serious expression. “After suffering through all those restrictions that seem to burden you so much, it is high time you sample some of the
joys
of being a young lady.”

Aunt P. beamed. “And there is no joy greater than that of a young lady at her first ball! It will be such fun to get you ready for the evening, my dear. We shall curl your hair and put it up, so . . .” She lifted my pigtails to the top of my head to see the effect. “Yes, that will be lovely, will not it, Priscilla?”

Her sister-in-law nodded. “Of course, you girls will have to take your weekly bath this afternoon instead of tonight. And then we shall see just how lovely we can make you!”