Minnesota Bride

by Lisa Prysock

  However, she soon realized her relations were not as comfortable about the church wedding they planned for Saturday afternoon.

  “Saturday? How will we explain this to Anne and Alexander?” Ruby rubbed her brow, fraught with concern. “They’ll want a society wedding in Minnesota. Your father will expect you to ask his permission, Captain Trumbull.”

  “We’ll have another wedding when we travel to Minnesota as part of our honeymoon,” Charles announced. “I’ll be sure to write to Governor Ramsey at once.”

  “That’s a bully good idea.” Uncle Edward sounded relieved. “You will stay to dinner for a celebration, won’t you, Trumbull?”

  Charles nodded, and Melody sighed as the tension dissipated in her body.

  “Anne will be in third heaven planning the arrangements,” Aunt Ruby agreed, sounding slightly less reluctant. “I can’t have my sister angry with me, but if I know her, she’ll be so happy to plan a second wedding for you two that she won’t have time to be angry about missing this one.” Then she scooped up Melody’s hands. “You’ll have to let your mother invite everyone she knows and have a free hand in making your Minnesota ceremony everything she wants, because not being here to see you wed the Captain would put her in the grave.”

  “I understand, Aunt Ruby. I’ll let Mama plan a wonderful reception and ceremony at home, as soon as we are done with our honeymoon,” Melody promised.

  Her aunt breathed a sigh of relief. “Very good, then. Now let me have another look at the lovely diamond he’s placed on your finger. You two may sit on the porch swing while I make you a fine supper with Mrs. Kilpatrick’s help. Lavinia and Eugenie have promised to wash the dishes after.”

  Lavinia and Eugenie groaned nearly simultaneously, causing a great deal of laughter and a pleasant distraction, much to Melody’s relief.

  And so it was, they were married in late May a few days later on Saturday at two o’clock. Charles gave her a bouquet of purple and white petunias, wild violets, mountain heather, pansies, and iris when they met at the altar after Uncle Edward escorted her down the church aisle. “I picked them myself.”

  She smiled up at him, thinking it a supreme effort at romance. Lavinia and Eugenie had made a wreath of flowers to go with her veil and pinned it in place, her golden locks gathered into a fashionable chignon. Her purple gown glimmered in the sunshine streaming through the church windows. Her white gloves, veil, and slippers looked lovely with her purple and white bouquet. Charles looked into her eyes and she into his throughout the entire ceremony.

  The circuit preacher soon pronounced them man and wife, permitted Charles to kiss her, and then led them aside to sign their marriage certificate. The family tossed rose petals and bird seed at them as they exited the church, running down the steps to his buggy where their trunks were packed for the trip to Richmond. They planned to take their time on the journey and stop at a few inns along the way instead of take a train or a stage.

  Aunt Ruby and her brood would return to Pennsylvania that day, all except for Carlton, while Melody and her new husband would drive on toward their honeymoon destination and a secret adventure awaiting them in joint service to their nation. Her greatest battle however was not adjusting to marriage, or the fact they were going to spy on Jefferson Davis, but the fact she hadn’t been able to do more than pen a letter of brief explanation to her parents and Uncle Justus. This churned inside her on the journey to Richmond, the same way she’d seen Aunt Ruby make butter from the cow’s milk at Blue Meadow.

  “Melody, just a few months of honeymoon, and then we shall be on our way to Minnesota. I’m sure your parents will understand. If they love you as much as you have said, they will want you to be happy.” Charles did what he could to calm her nerves after a few days fraught with tension. “I’m trying to give you the adventure you’ve always wanted. Two months at the most.”

  She nodded. “You are right. I will never be happy without it. Mama and Father will have to understand. Uncle Justus will soothe them for me. I have written him a letter this very day, asking him to speak to them on my behalf.”

  “Bully good. That’s the girl I know and love. Think of all the fun we shall have.” He smiled and turned back to the mirror to focus on dressing for dinner.

  Clearly, her new husband of merely a few days had fallen in love with the Melody who loved to dance, picnic, take walks, splash about in the creek with her bare toes even if it meant sinking in the squishy mud, and draw lovely scenes in her sketch books. He’d fallen in love with the desires she held in her heart for adventure, travel, and teaching. He’d fallen in love with her courage, bravery, and determination to help the Union and to see slaves set free.

  “Are you ready to meet my friend, Beau Danville? I know he’s been busy since we arrived, but you’ll see him this evening in a few moments. He’s older than we are, but has been a good friend of my family for many years.” Captain Trumbull wrestled with his cravat. “Don’t forget to be as charming as possible. There will be dinner and dancing with the despicable Davis and his wife, Varina.”

  “Lower your voice, husband!” she chided. “The maid they loaned to me could return at any moment to ask if I need any further assistance with dressing.”

  “Oh, and remember, they’ve just moved into the mansion—” he reminded her as he slipped into his dinner coat.

  Melody interrupted him. “Yes, and the maid told me the servants and household are still in a dither from unpacking, but Jefferson brought in two extra servants borrowed from neighbors to expedite the process and is trying to keep Varina calm.”

  “Ah, you’ve done well to extract those details,” he remarked with a tone of approval as he adjusted his coat.

  “Which room do you think has Beau’s desk?” she whispered, standing beside him to have a look in the oval mirror. She wanted to see if her olive green silk gown appeared well with her husband’s black dinner jacket.

  “He’s already invited me inside for a brief meeting. It’s the one at the end of the hall.” He glanced at her. “You look stunning.”

  “Thank you. What have you done to hide your uniform? It’s blue. ‘Twould never do if someone encounters it.” She glanced nervously at the wardrobe.

  “I don’t think it matters. I don’t think they’ve sorted out uniforms yet for either side.” He began polishing his boots again, looking for any spec of dirt to be removed.

  “Oh, well in that case, what are we looking for?” she asked, crossing the room to the vanity.

  “Battle plans. Size of their forces. Generals. Location of munitions. Anything about where, what, when, who...and especially tactics.” He could tell she didn’t understand what he meant by tactics from the look on her face, so he clarified. “Military strategy.”

  “Got it.” She retrieved a pair of pearl earrings and clamped them in place on her lobes. She tucked a stray lock back into her chignon, allowing a few wisps of her golden curls to dangle beside her cheeks. Then she turned to face her husband. “How do I look?”

  He pulled her toward him and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Ravishing. Tempting. Wonderful.”

  She giggled in his embrace.

  “Are you enjoying the adventure?” he asked.

  “I am.” She grinned up at him. “And I enjoyed meeting your parents yesterday. Your mother is very kind to me. I can’t imagine anyone having so many slaves though, and they seem to have nearly as many here.”

  He appeared to dismiss her observations about the slaves and his family. She knew it troubled him, so she didn’t belabor him with her thoughts.

  “You did well. If you can get along with them, this evening will be a breeze. They’ll probably dance the Virginia Reel a dozen times and drink enough gin and bourbon to make a horse drunk. However, if they do not, go along with the flow until we have a better opportunity. Take things in stride, and do your best to appear to befriend them at all times, in a natural sort of way,” he advised.

  She bit her lip. “What am I to do if I find anything?
You sound like you’ve been trained for this sort of thing, Captain Trumbull.” She still liked to call him by his military title, though it pained her to think he might have to go off and fight the dreadful war someday. Spying was one thing, but fighting in battles, entirely another in her mind. She hadn’t yet thought about the consequences for spying if their ruse was discovered.

  “Don’t write anything down anywhere. Memorize it,” he insisted.

  “What if I can’t?” Melody looked aghast.

  “I know how smart that pretty little head of yours is. You’ll manage. Just the highlights unless it appears to be significant.” Then he tilted his head. “The way you study at night before bed when you’re reading and memorizing the Scriptures and lovely portions of literature, you won’t have any problems.”

  “Feeding my soul the food the Lord provided for me is quite a different matter than military strategy, but I’ll do my best. What if we don’t find anything tonight?” She spun out of his arms and reached for her cream shawl on the four-poster bed.

  Charles had been such a loving husband to her since their wedding night. She was sure they were both in love. Her only wonder was if he loved her as much as she loved him. He’d not yet said the words, and she longed to hear them from him, but refused to pry them from him. When the time was right, he would naturally desire to speak those precious words to her. Did he know how much she longed to hear them? Had she made a mistake? Would she find her love unrequited as it had been by Ned?

  “We’ll stay until we find something. Our efforts will not be in vain.” The Captain extended his arm to escort her to dinner.

  Before she accepted his arm, she added in a whisper, “Just one thing, Charles. I insist on being permitted to write to Lincoln myself, and not from Richmond. I don’t trust anyone here, and especially not telegraph operators. Everyone in Richmond appears to be very pleased with Davis and the new Confederate Government. They go about their business as if they haven’t a care in the world.”

  “Agreed; you may write Lincoln and from elsewhere,” he replied in a low voice. Then she placed her hand on his elbow and he opened the door. At least now, her thoughts of Ned were few and fleeting. He seemed like a distant memory from a lifetime ago. She only thought of her new husband and the future they were going to build together. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to teach now that she was married. Schools didn’t like to hire women with the responsibility of a husband and children, but perhaps there was a way around it. She had only to figure it out. The private school she’d attended in Pennsylvania had prepared her thoroughly for teaching, but it still seemed so far out of reach. It was almost like a dream she couldn’t remember upon waking. It was the only regrettable thought she had since they’d exchanged their vows, but something in her told her to hold onto hope. She merely needed the right situation to present itself.

  “How do you like Richmond, so far?” Melody asked, directing her question to Varina Davis at dinner when an uncomfortable silence descended upon them.

  “I’m not sure yet, to be honest. We’ve not been here but a few days and there is still so much to unpack. I think we are too close to Washington, but then my dear husband reminds me we have the mountains to protect us from attack.” Varina waved a servant away from her side, declining a serving of butternut squash soup garnished with tarragon and parsley.

  “The mountains are indeed a fortress,” Melody replied, tasting some of the soup. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance to you with the unpacking. I very much like to organize things. I helped my mother with the unpacking when we moved.” Then she wished she hadn’t brought up her mother. It was far too dangerous to discuss with the Davis family.

  “I may prevail upon you for such help, but only if you truly enjoy it. Where did you say your family is from?” Varina inquired, confirming her regret for having brought up the subject.

  “I’m from the Jenkins of western Virginia.” That much was true. Melody didn’t dare glance at Charles. She had no choice but to leave out some of the truth regarding her maiden name to protect her true identity. If they knew she was the daughter of a governor from Minnesota, they’d turn them out into the streets at once. Varina merely nodded and tasted some of her salad greens with the vinaigrette dressing. Then after a few bites, she added, “We knew some Jenkins in Mississippi. I was a Howell before I married my darling husband.”

  “My private secretary tells me you also graduated from West Point and we both fought in the Mexican War,” Davis said, turning to Charles. “I think I have a vague recollection of you from then. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

  Charles nodded. “Some of the happiest and most challenging days of my life were at West Point, though I was there later than you on both counts. I was only in the Mexican War for the last year. Young and inexperienced, but braver than I probably am today.”

  Davis chuckled and tasted some of his meal. “Age and experience will do that. As a cadet at West Point, my fellow students and I got into a good deal of fun and trouble. The most memorable trouble was due to an incident we called the Eggnog Riot.”

  “The Eggnog Riot?” Charles laughed, accepting a second helping of the main course when it was offered by a liveried servant. “I don’t believe I’ve heard about that one.”

  Beau Danville groaned and began buttering a dinner roll with a look of boredom appearing on his face. “You’ve told that story so many times, but if it pleases you, I’m sure my friend will enjoy it and I will suffer through hearing it again.” Mr. Danville was much older than what Melody had expected, closer in age to Davis.

  “Pay him no mind. He loves the story. It was the Christmas season and we were determined to have a joyous celebration,” Davis began, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

  Charles leaned back in his chair to listen dutifully, and Varina did not complain, but Melody was sure her facial expression was one of patience and endurance from having heard the story at least a dozen times.

  “Most of the cadets were in agreement and cahoots to smuggle in whiskey to spike the eggnog. Oh, the trouble we got into. I’ll not ever forget it, but it did lead to getting house arrest for my role in the plan, but then about a third of us were in on it.” Davis shook his head. His words gave Melody an eerie feeling.

  “Where ever did you find whiskey and how were you discovered?” her husband asked.

  After Davis answered his questions, he continued to regale them with more stories about his military experience and his days as a Mississippi Senator. He also shared a story from when he served as the Secretary of War which plagued Melody’s thoughts. He likely knew enough about the Union’s military strength and strategies to wage a successful battle, but nonetheless the meal progressed in relative relaxation. He didn’t consider his actions as treason, but real war. She couldn’t help but contemplate on the fact he was headed for a role and a legacy of shame. How sorry she felt for Varina.

  In fact, Jefferson Davis enjoyed talking about his career so much that the gentlemen never left the table. His port was brought to them and shortly after, Varina invited her to the sitting room on the second floor. Melody followed, glad to have a few moments away from the stories.

  A servant appeared with tea when they were situated, and thankfully, Mrs. Davis chatted away about the mishaps of moving, her three children, all of the boxes to unpack, and the drapes she wished to hang. She had so much to share that Melody had no need to worry about what to say as the conversation went along with ease about inconsequential matters. She was worried about a set of her favorite china, now chipped because it hadn’t been properly packed.

  “I expect you are enjoying your honeymoon,” Varina finally added, becoming more personable. “I was eighteen when I married Jefferson. He was thirty-five. About the same difference in age as you and Charles. My parents were not the least bit supportive. Between his politics and our age gap, they reluctantly agreed. I do hope your parents are more in support of your marriage to Captain Trumbull.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, they are,” Melody agreed readily, hoping her answer would be a satisfactory one. They would be if they knew him, anyhow. “My aunt is the most supportive.” This was true. Aunt Ruby had met him. She could honestly make the claim without feeling she’d falsified her statement.

  Varina was more beautiful than Melody had expected. She wore her dark hair parted in the middle with a bun at the crown, and her olive skin complexion was flawless. “Did you meet your husband in Mississippi where you moved from?” Melody asked.

  “I did. I’d recently graduated from a private school in Philadelphia. I think your husband mentioned you also attended private school there, so we have that in common. Then I was invited to spend the Christmas season at Hurricane Plantation near Vicksburg, owned by Jefferson’s brother. We eventually married, but I’m still wary of my husband’s politics. I have family on both sides of the north and the south, and I’m not in support of slavery. But you see my husband owns a good deal of slaves, as did my parents at one time. It’s a way of life, but I don’t support it personally. I always feel so sad about the frail weaknesses and conditions of slaves.”

  “It bothers me too sometimes, but my husband’s family owns a great deal of slaves. I had no idea you were at school in Philadelphia. I enjoyed my time there. It is one of my ambitions to become a teacher someday, and they trained me well,” Melody replied. She wondered what to say next. She felt everything she might reveal about her own views, or those of her husband, or anything about their families, might put their mission in jeopardy. Instead she asked, “Did you have a large wedding?”

  “We were going to, but then we split apart. He nearly worshipped his first wife, which I found to be an unhealthy foundation for our relationship. When I became ill with a terrible fever, Jefferson visited me frequently. I suppose we fell back in love on a far better foundation than at first. When I recovered, we had a small wedding at my home. Like you and Charles visiting his parents here in Richmond, we went to visit Jefferson’s mother on our honeymoon. I admire your ambition to become a teacher. I hope you are able to achieve it. We have so much in common. It is a pleasure to meet someone with so much that we share.”