by L. E. Waters
“We do love it here.” I see Virginia’s face in the six-paned window, squinting her eyes at who has approached in such a grand, plum-colored carriage.
The footboy opens the door and I nod to her. “I can’t thank you enough for saving me the walk. Please come visit me at the newspaper. I would love to see what else you have been up to since Graham’s and I do owe you an autograph.”
Her eyebrows jump with the offer. “I would like that very much. Goodnight, Mr. Poe.”
I hop out and make my way into the warm house, as Virginia scowls out the window until the carriage leaves. “Who was that woman?”
“A kind lady from the reading who offered me a ride home.”
“A married lady?”
“Yes.” My eyebrows fall, wondering why she is asking me.
“It is not proper for two married adults to share a carriage together, alone.”
“She felt sorry for me, having to walk home this late, and offered only out of charity.” I try to sweeten her sour mood with a smile. “You know how tiresome these readings are and this one went so late. Don’t you feel badly for your exhausted Eddie?”
She bites her lip, but then laughs. “I do wish I would improve enough to go watch you suffer through one.” She curls up in the chair next to mine.
“You will soon, I’m sure. You are the very picture of health.” I chuckle. “I look like the one with consumption.”
She bursts out laughing, as I pull the droopy bags under my eyes down, and she does a dance to control her bladder.
“I could pack groceries in these things.”
She hits me with a pillow and runs out to the outhouse, still laughing.
Chapter 34
That is not the last I see of Francis (quickly known to me as Fanny). She comes into the office, as I suggested, and we either meet for a stroll or trade poems, endlessly trying to impress each other. She fills a hole within her, and I enjoy the female competition—never before have I met such an intellectual match.
Virginia comments on the letters coming in and reads the poems with a sour face. She welcomes me at the door after such a rendezvous with Fanny with a letter in her hand.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” She gleams all the excitement of youth.
“Valentine’s Day has only been created to sell chocolates and flowers.”
She raises her eyes and shakes her head slightly. “Then where are my sweets and blossoms?”
I sweep my hand to the meadow. “Growing all around you out there,”—I shake her belly “and most likely in here.”
She giggles and casts my hand aside. “I have a surprise for you.” She slips a handkerchief over my eyes and, as she begins to tie it, a panic sets in. Suddenly, my necktie feels horribly tight, and I use one hand to push off the blinder and the other to loosen my necktie in a frantic instant.
“What is the matter?” Virginia’s eyes are like saucers.
“Nothing.” I suck in a glorious breath and try to settle back down. “I just couldn’t breathe. Now, where is my surprise?”
She gives up studying me. “You will be surprised that I have written you a poem.” Her chin dances happily in the air.
I draw my breath in dramatically. “As I live and breathe.”
She chides me with her eyes. “It might not be as perfect as Mrs. Osgood’s, but I do think it is rather sweet.”
“Please, read it. I’m sure it will be lovely.”
She licks her lips and checks with me a moment before starting:
“Ever with thee I wish to roam—
Dearest my life is thine.
Give me a cottage for my home
And a rich old cypress vine,
Removed from the world with its sin and care
And the tattling of many tongues.
Love alone shall guide us when we are there—
Love shall heal my weakened lungs;
And Oh, the tranquil hours we’ll spend,
Never wishing that others may see!
Perfect ease we’ll enjoy, without thinking to lend
Ourselves to the world and its glee—
Ever peaceful and blissful we’ll be.”
I clap robustly and she beams.
“That is better than any drabble I’ve written.”
She throws the paper at me. “Now, I know you are lying.”
I grab and press her to me as she fights with gleeful screams. “I will have to lock you up now since I must be the only Poe with fame. You are far, far too talented, Mrs. Poe and will outshine your poor, miserable Edgar.”
Muddy comes in and swats at us. “You haven’t even taken your shoes off, Eddie. Look at the mess you’re making!”
We stop thrashing to stare down at the road muck I tracked in. I let go of Virginia who spins away and reads her poem to Muddy as I sweep up the mess.
“I am so proud of my two gifted children. It must be in the blood, though it seemed to skip over me.”
“You have far too great of other talents, such as sewing, cleaning and the best cook I have tasted even in the finest homes in the city.” Her self-pride is fed. “It would be unfair to give you more skills. You could take over the world then.”
We eat happily that night, our valentine supper of chicken fixins, corn pone and apple dumplings. Nothing momentous to talk of but the small prattling of contentedness. I wish for it not to be the last night we have one.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
The stormy November day should have prepared me for the change in the house. I return after a long day of printing difficulties to a fine carriage waiting in our unused drive. It’s not Fanny’s plum carriage. I hurry in, hoping it might be a visit from Lippard. He told me he might be visiting this month.
The oppressive aura hits me like a sudden onset of a hurricane as I walk into the empty keeping room. Muddy comes up nervously to remove my coat and hat.
“Who is visiting?” I ask.
She bites her lip. “A Mrs. Ellet.”
“Why on earth would she be here?” I shiver off my scarf. “To see me?”
“No.” She looks over her shoulder toward the stairs. “To see Virginia.”
“Why are they in Virginia’s room?”
“Virginia’s suddenly taken ill.” She whispers even though it would be impossible to hear upstairs. “She came to intervene between you and Mrs. Osgood.” She says her name like it’s scandal.
The heat rises to my face at once, and Muddy tries to hold me back from marching up the stairs. The sound of sobs grow as I make my way down the small hallway and open the door to find the two women taking up most of the room. My presence fills up all leftover space.
“Mrs. Ellet, why are you upsetting my ailing wife so?”
She tucks her gloved hands up under her meager bosom and has the nerve to make eye contact with me. “It is my duty as a Christian woman to inform your wife of your improprieties.” Ostrich feathers on her ridiculously over-plumed Minerva bonnet bounce as she raises her chin with each word.
“Improprieties! What on earth are you talking about?”
Virginia puts her handkerchief down, her nose red from blowing. “She has brought me the letters you’ve written to Mrs. Osgood.” She holds them up in the air like a disease, flapping them over Catterina’s sleeping head, causing one ear to twitch slightly.
“And what of that? There is nothing in those letters that I would not stand by.”
Mrs. Ellet, smug and smarmy, only straightens in the chair I usually sit in to read Virginia my latest works.
Virginia cries as she speaks. “These are letters and poems written with a certain affection.”
“Affection, yes, as a friend and colleague but nothing more, I assure you.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Osgood is aware of your platonic affection.” She turns to Virginia. “She showed me these letters herself with great excitement and a blush in her cheeks.”
Virginia looks to me for an answer.
I’m unprepar
ed for such a barrage. “I have no idea how Mrs. Osgood has interpreted them. I was not aware there was any other interpretation other than the one I intended.”
“Poor Mrs. Osgood, with her husband gone away for so long. Edgar, you have taken great advantage of a lonely wife, and you must rectify things at once. I’m here to ask for all of Mrs. Osgood’s letters that she has penned. The whole city is talking about these letters.”
The pain on Virginia’s face causes me to bubble up in rage. Rage, I can only let loose on who caused it. “I think you should best mind your own letters, Mrs. Ellet.”
She gasps and brings a floppy hand to her unsubstantial breast. “My letters?”
“Oh, you need reminding?” I dart out into the hall where Muddy listens and fetch the letters I’ve been hiding, ironically, from Virginia, trying not to alarm her.
I read aloud:
“I have a letter for you. Will you not most kindly pick it up or have it sent for after seven o’clock this evening. “
Virginia eyes Mrs. Ellet suspiciously. “And what delicate matter did Mrs. Ellet relate?”
“I had no interest in finding out what Mrs. Ellet had to divulge to me at that hour of night, nor did I ever care.”
“You have taken that the wrong way.” The fluster that rises high in her cheeks belies her casual pretending.
“Funny, how words can be so misunderstood, Mrs. Ellet?” I open my eyes wide to deliver the message. “Should I continue to the fevered quotation from Schiller you included at the bottom?”
“I have not come to discuss this matter.” She stands and inches toward the door.
I continue reading and Mrs. Ellet immediately turns away from me:
“O, what a rent you have made in my heart. The senses are still in your bonds—”
Mrs. Ellet cuts me off. “I am only here to inform you of the gossip.”
I place the stack of letters into Mrs. Ellet’s claw-like hand. “Had I been exchanging letters with you, I’m sure there would be no such scandal.”
“Oh, of all things.” She drops them into her handbag and snaps it shut. “I was only trying to help, but now this is pure slander.”
“Well, if anyone should know slander it is you.”
Virginia’s eyes narrow upon her, and only Catterina can hear the chant that escapes her mistress’s lips. An intestinal rumble nearly shakes the room. Mrs. Ellet clutches her lower abdomen with both hands. Not a word is uttered until another grumble is heard.
Mrs. Ellet raises her chin against her discomfort. “I am suddenly feeling quite unwell.”
I notice the quiet sneer in the corner of Virginia’s lips. I open the door wider, forcing Mrs. Ellet to walk in front of me. I glare at her as she glides by. “You are most unwelcome here.”
She halts and leaves a hand out. I stand still with her letter behind my back. She demands, “My letter, sir.”
I shake my head. “I shall be holding onto this for protection.”
“Humph,” is all she says and Muddy assists her out. I scramble to Virginia’s side and perch on the edge of her bed.
“Why has this upset you so?” I smooth the hair that escaped from her bun behind her ear. “She is a terrible, terrible woman.”
Tears erupt right away. “I know who she is, but when I read these letters you have written it shows me how close you have become with Mrs. Osgood.”
“I promise you this was only fun with words. We sent letters to test our poetic prowess. Even if I did have feelings for her—which I pledge to you I do not—why would this upset you so in our unique situation?”
“I understand we don’t have a normal marriage, but the world does not know that. To them I look to be the fool.”
“Oh, you are never the fool, my smart, beautiful Virginia.” That stops the tears and draws a smile. Sensing the chill in the air, I remove my military coat and wrap it around her delicate shoulders.
“If I am so smart why don’t you communicate and test me this same way?” She bites her lip to keep from crying more. “I am so lonely here, kept away from the world.”
I hug her tight into me. “A brilliant poetess once said, ‘Give me a cottage for my home, and a rich old cypress vine, removed from the world with its sin and care, and the tattling of many tongues.’”
She snorts and pushes me away playfully. “No fair, you can’t use my words against me.” She erupts into a thick cough. The nasty sound shoots fear through me.
As soon as she is through, I bring her back into my embrace. “I’m sorry Mrs. Ell—”
“Oh, don’t say her name anymore.”
“Alright then, Mrs. E. I’m sorry that she has upset you so. This was never my intention and I apologize for any harm this has done to you. I will fix it all at once. I’m sure an honest talk with Mrs. Osgood will assuage everything and put an end to any idle chatter.” I hold her tighter. “I will write a poem about this and publish it to the world if I must.”
“Osgood has her letters back and you will bring Mrs. E’s to her very doorstep tomorrow—”
“I will not return them to such a troublesome b—”
She places a finger up to halt my curse. “I want the whole matter put to bed.” She cuddles deeper into me, pulling my coat tighter around her. “Just come home and spend time with me. I fear it will be a cold winter.”
She is right.
Chapter 35
Virginia coughs throughout the night and I pull my covers up over my ears to keep from hearing Muddy’s footfalls, checking in on her all night. Mrs. Shew is there in the morning.
“She’s had a bad night.” Muddy says, under-exaggerating it.
Mrs. Shew opens her bag of miracles. “I better get to work than.” Her smile lifts everything heavy and her rosy cheeks never relent, whether they be red from a humid day or red from the chill.
After they go upstairs, I stare at Mrs. Ellet’s wretched letters and decide to have the whole matter put behind me. I know it’s sickening Virginia and maybe if Mrs. Ellet has her vulgar letters returned she will ease up on her attacks. I shuffle them into my large pocket and shut the door as the smell of garlic finds me.
The Ellet’s house looks much more grand in sunlight. I was unaware of all of the corbels and carvings that embellish the already impressive house. The rich always have so much more time to make trouble. Working folk are too tired at the end of the day to cause a fuss. I knock on the door, hoping to leave my parcel with the servant, but the young Irish woman hurries to get someone within the house.
“I only want to leave these,” I shout down the hall and bend in to place them on the French-caned bench beside the door. A cold pistol is placed against my temple. I drop the letters immediately. They slink to the floor, as I put my hands up—part in surrender and part in protection.
“Edgar, I presume, from the way you crept in here. Trying to run away with your tail between your legs after insulting my sister.”
Thomas Dunn. I’ve heard of his erratic behavior. I won’t take any chances with his reputation. “I’m returning the letters Mrs. Ellet requested.”
He checks them quickly while keeping his barking iron on me. It’s in this moment I wish I carried such a pistol in these dueling times—me, the antlerless stag.
“This isn’t all of them.”
“I assure you, these are all that I was graced with.”
“Watch it.” The trigger clicks.
I step back out the door.
“Stay away from my sister.” His pistol begins to shake.
I bow to his steel. “I would like nothing more.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Even though things remain quiet and the comments whispered behind my back cease, Virginia does not get better. Her fevers continue, the night sweats increase and she even stops eating the treats Mrs. Shew brings for her. The piano stays silent and the doctor drops in weekly to blood-let the impurities. Mrs. Shew stays from morning until candle-light doing all that she can.
Soo
n, Muddy and I rely on her far more than Virginia. She pushes Virginia to walk a bit every day and is the only one who can listen to the endless coughing. Watching her gasp for breath is like looking on uselessly as a beautiful goldfish flounders on the floor, puckering for air. Shew stays stoic through it all. Muddy and I fade along with Virginia. If she can’t eat then we don’t, if she doesn’t venture out than we can’t, if she won’t sleep than we shouldn’t. Without sleep, fresh air, or food, the winter days and nights blur into one grey nightmare, which seems to worsen as we near its end.
It’s after a great snowfall when Virginia’s breathing grows especially labored. The doctor does not come due to the weather, but Mrs. Shew trudges her way through the knee-deep snow to assist to Virginia for her last time.
“She’s asking for you, Edgar,” Mrs. Shew calls down to my room, where I’m writing everything morbid and morose. I hesitate a moment, sensing what is to come and wishing I can delay it. I have had far too many of these moments.
The normally short hallway feels especially long and I can smell death in her sweet little room. Virginia lies there with Catterina on her chest, tucked up on my military coat. She turns and smiles at me immediately, not holding a grudge that I so obviously have been avoiding her. I go right to her side, just like with Ma.
She pulls the hair back behind my ear. “When was the last time I’ve cut your hair?” She giggles but it rolls into a terrible cough. “You look like a sheep before shearing.” She turns to Mrs. Shew. “Please cut his hair for me tonight.”
Mrs. Shew smiles and promises with a quick nod.
Tonight. Would she even still be here to see it?
I attempt to move Catterina off to her side, but Virginia stays my hand. “Leave her. She is the only thing keeping me warm.” I settle back into the chair and Catterina goes on purring richly, oblivious to what is occurring.
I stare into her large, honey-brown eyes, as mine betray a tear.
“I hate to do this to you, Edgar.”
I can’t take her apology at such a moment. I stare off at the wall and try my hardest to hold back the deluge.