“But…”
“You are not going, and I will entertain no discussion about it.”
“I will ask someone to take him a note that I…”
“No, you will not. I will inform him of my decision.”
Twenty years later, Kenneth was still a professor in New York and had not remarried. He was now a poet of some renown.
“And you, Mrs. Allen, are you still writing?”
“I keep a journal, but I would not call it writing.”
“Of course it is. Did you bring it?”
“Yes, I carry it everywhere.”
“Excellent. If you oblige me, I’ll read some of my poems and you can read selections from your work.”
“I would enjoy your poetry very much, but my humble journal is not worthy of being read.”
“Nonsense. Please, Mrs. Allen, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to hear you read to me.”
We spent the next five days either with Eliza’s husband and children or reading to each other in the parlor. On the fifth night we were there, Eliza asked Kenneth to read her his poetry. No one in the household slept that night. My dear Eliza passed in the early hours of the morning, but I am comforted that, while she drew her final breath, she experienced beauty in the form of Kenneth’s finely crafted words.
I was relieved to find when I arrived home that my husband had gone to Mobile. Three weeks after my return, I received a letter from Kenneth. He had written a new poem and dedicated it to me. I wrote him and thanked him for the lovely gift, but I asked him not to write me again, as my husband would not find it appropriate. The next time that Mrs. Tutwiler visited, I showed her Kenneth’s poem and told her that I had asked him not to write me again.
“But why? There is nothing untoward about the letter or poem.” I told her about the incident in New York. “Perhaps that was just a newlywed husband’s jealousy?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Does Mr. Allen…open your correspondence?”
“Yes.” I was so ashamed.
“Mr. Tutwiler does not see the mail when it comes in. It is my responsibility. Why don’t you tell the professor to send your letters to me at my home?”
“You are such a dear friend. But what if your husband learned of it?”
“He would not find out, but if he did, he would think that the professor was writing to me and he would laugh at the thought that a gentleman was sending me poetry.”
I thus imposed on my friend to receive Kenneth’s letters to me, and I am glad that I did so, because I do not believe I would have withstood the forthcoming events without Kenneth’s wise counsel and reminders that, despite the ugliness of life, one can find succor in beauty.
When Clarissa was betrothed, I told her it was unseemly that she was traveling so frequently and that she needed to stay home to assist me with her wedding arrangements.
“Mama, please. Why do we have to do so much now? The wedding is almost two years from now.”
“It may seem as if it is far in the future, but I assure you it is not, and you have been spending too much time away from home. Does your intended know about your constant visits to Montgomery? Also, I believe your father would be displeased to know the true reason for your visits there. I want your word that the next time you go to Montgomery you will not see Mr. Evans.”
“But, Mama, I don’t go to Montgomery to see Mr. Evans.”
“Do not lie to me, Clarissa.”
“All right. I’m sorry. I won’t go as far as Montgomery. May I still see my friends close to home?”
“Yes, puppet, but limit your visits to about every two months.”
“Mama, please. I won’t be going far. Oh, and, Mama, Aunt Martha wrote Papa that I never visit her.”
“You may certainly visit your aunt as often as you wish.”
Clarissa did indeed stay home more after this conversation and assisted with her trousseau, but she was gone at least once a week. My husband said that he was glad that Clarissa was visiting his widowed sister, who lived by herself in a large house in Macon County. One afternoon, Clarissa and I were reading in the parlor after dinner when she ran from the room with her hand covering her mouth. I followed her upstairs and found her retching into a chamber pot. When she was finished, I asked her whether something she had eaten made her sick.
“Yes, I think the meat was not fresh. Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t feel at all ill. Are you better?”
“Yes, a little.”
I rang the bell for Sarah and told her to see Emmeline about something for Clarissa’s stomach. Sarah brought her ginger tea. Clarissa drank it and slept until supper. She ate well that evening but retired early because she was fatigued. Her nausea continued for several days.
“Puppet, shall we summon the doctor?”
“No, Mama. I’ll be better soon.”
She was not improved, however, and I called for the physician. He examined her and pronounced her fit. He prescribed bed rest. By the next day, she was well but did not resume her normal activities. She did not speak about visiting anyone and was content to read in the garden or on the verandah.
She visited me in my chambers one evening as I was dressing for supper and dismissed my maid. “Bessie, I need to speak with Mama, alone.”
When Bessie was gone, Clarissa said that she was bored with visiting and wedding preparations and that she wanted to be married soon.
“Darling, why the sudden change of heart? Did you not vehemently tell your father and me that you were glad to have a lengthy engagement?”
“I know, but….” She sobbed and I held her, patting her on the back.
“Puppet, tell me what you are thinking.” She was silent. “Clarissa, there is nothing that you cannot tell me.” She looked at me but did not speak. “Really, puppet, anything.”
“He forced me, Mama. He forced me.”
“What? What do you mean? Clarissa, what are you telling me?”
“About three months ago, when I visited him, he made me… When we went riding…there was no one else there. We stopped and got off the horses. He put a blanket on the ground.”
I could, not believe what she was telling me. “Was this Mr. Evans?”
“No, no, not him, it was Jul…him, that man Papa is forcing me to marry.”
“Clarissa, are you certain?”
“What do you mean, am I certain? How could you ask me that?”
“My darling, puppet, I’m so very sorry. Oh…and that is why… oh my dear Lord, that is why you were sick. Dear Lord, what are we going to do? We must tell your fa….”
“No, we can’t tell him. You know what he’ll do to me. He’ll say it was my fault.”
“Clarissa, your father would never hurt you, and he would believe you.”
“How can you say that after what he has done to you?”
“He loves you and I am confident that he would not treat you in the same manner.”
“Well, I am not sure of that. Please, Mama. Let’s just tell him that I’m prepared to be a married lady.”
“Darling, he will not believe you. You should abandon that line of thinking. After all, I did not believe you, and your father is more intelligent than I am. Besides, you did initially tell him that you did not want to marry Mr. Cromwell. We will tell him together. You are his pet and he has never denied you anything. And, after all, he did consent to your visits to Mr. Cromwell without us to chaperone you.”
“That is true, Mama. I hope he remembers that.”
“All right, puppet. We’ll tell him after supper. Not a word to anyone, not even to Sarah.”
Clarissa and I made an effort to appear as if nothing unusual had occurred. Cornelius had a bottle of wine by himself at supper and brandy after we dined.
“Mr. Allen, Clarissa and I want to speak with you privately.”
“Certainly. What do my favorite ladies have to discuss, details of the wedding?”
We went to Clarissa’s room. She and I were
silent.
“Who is going to speak?”
“Mr. Allen, something…horrible happened to…Clarissa.”
“What?”
“About three months ago…”
“Not when, what?”
“She was visiting Mr. Cromwell and….”
“And what? Say it.”
“He violated her.”
“What do you mean by ‘he violated her’?”
“He forced himself upon her. They were riding, just the two of them.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked at me and then at Clarissa. He lifted her from the chair. “You little bitch. You couldn’t keep your legs closed until you were married? Dear God. Jesus Christ. What am I supposed to do now?”
“Papa….”
“Be quiet.”
He dropped her and she fell back into the chair.
“You selfish slut, I’m not even close to finalizing the business arrangements with his father.” He paced and was silent for a moment. “Before you went riding, you told him that you could not ride alone with him, correct?”
“I didn’t want to go riding. I preferred to stay in the garden where we were having tea with his parents.”
“Good. His parents were present when he asked you to go riding. But listen carefully to what I’m saying: you told him that you could not ride alone with him, without a chaperone.”
“No, Papa. I didn’t actually say that.”
“You are a whore. Why would you ride alone with a man who was not your husband? He forced you, you say? It seems to me as if you threw yourself upon him.”
“No, Papa. That’s not….”
He closed his hand on her throat. She tried to scream, but he applied pressure. Tears fell down her face. I tried to pull his arm away, but he pushed me off with his other hand. He released Clarissa and struck me in the abdomen. I bent over and fell to my knees. Clarissa was crying with her head in her hands.
“Stand up.”
She did not obey him.
“When I order you to do something, you do it.”
He struck her. Then he spoke again, but as if to himself. “I will invite them here. I will make my dowry terms much more favorable, and we will have to appeal to the mother as well as the father. I will say that the wedding should be held sooner. Oh dear God. You’re expecting, aren’t you? That is why you told your mother. You wouldn’t have said anything otherwise. You conniving bitch!” He looked at me.
“This is all because of your failure to properly raise her.” He slapped me. “You two will speak to the mother separately. I expect a lot of tears from you. Do not say that he forced her, but that he ‘took her honor’ and that the only way to restore it is for them to be married immediately.”
He departed and I rang the bell for Sarah to help me with Clarissa. We took off her clothes. Her throat was red and mottled. I told Sarah to ask Emmeline for something to help Clarissa. The remedy was successful. I stayed with her until she fell asleep and returned to my rooms. Bessie was sitting on her cot.
“Ma’am, everything all right?”
“Yes, Bessie. Thank you.”
As she was helping me undress, she touched the areas where he had hurt me. “The skin ain’t broke no place this time, ma’am. Can I get you something from Miss Emmeline?”
“No, Bessie. That’s not necessary. Just light more candles and lamps in here and you can sleep in the adjoining room.”
Bessie folded her cot and left, and I read and wrote in my journal. There was no thought of rest because I assumed that he was going to arrive at any moment.
CHAPTER TEN
SARAH CAMPBELL
AS A LADY’S MAID, I WAS EXPECTED TO IMMEDIATELY be at my mistress’s side when she called for me or rang a bell. She did not, however, expect me to listen to conversations or witness events to which I was not a party. When I was eight years old and became Clarissa’s maid, I asked Bessie why Mrs. Allen cried frequently, and she said that Mr. Allen ill-treated his wife. I told my mother what Bessie said.
“Why did she tell you that? Good God. Bessie know better. You’re too young to be hearing them things, and if Mr. Allen knew you been told, I don’t even want to think about what he’d do.”
“But Mrs. Allen was crying, Mama. I was sad for her.”
“I know, baby. It makes me feel sad too. Lord know she ain’t got no reason to be good to you, but she is. But Bessie and me, we try to help her. Sarah, you ain’t said nothing to Clarissa about this, right?” Then she looked at me as if reading what was on my mind. “Sarah, you did tell Clarissa, didn’t you?”
“Mama, we were in the nursery when Mrs. Allen started crying. Then Clarissa sat on her lap and wiped her tears with a handkerchief. She stopped crying after that and she read to us.”
I also heard everything that transpired that night when Mrs. Allen and Clarissa told Mr. Allen that the wedding needed to be held earlier. I wanted to go to my family to tell them that we did not have two more years together, as we expected, but I could not go to my family then. Mrs. Allen told me that I could not leave Clarissa alone. If she woke and I was not there, Mrs. Allen would know about my absence. I had to wait until morning to leave. I was asleep when I heard Bessie.
“Sarah, get up. Sarah, Master want you to wake up Miss Clarissa and get her ready for dinner.”
I rubbed my eyes and stretched. “Dinner? I can’t believe I slept so late.”
“Sarah, come on. You ain’t got time to act like you the missus. Master Allen himself told me to have you get Miss Clarissa up.”
I remembered the events of the previous night. “Is my mother in the kitchen?”
“I don’t know. I ain’t been over there. Mrs. Allen just woke up, and I got to get back to her. Get up.”
“Yes, yes. I’m up. But, Bessie, I need to speak to my mother.”
“Talk to her when you go get water for Miss Clarissa to wash. And tell Miss Emmeline to make tea for Mrs. Allen and Miss Clarissa.”
Clarissa was awake. The windows were open and she was staring outside.
“Miss Clarissa, your father wants to see you at dinner. There’s some water in the pitcher. Why don’t you begin washing? I’ll go downstairs and get you hot water and some tea. Let me look at you.”
She unbuttoned her nightdress. Her throat was now red and blue.
“I’ll bring you something with a high collar.”
She did not answer me. She rose and went to wash.
I found my mother and Belle in the kitchen. “Mama, I need some tea and hot water for Mrs. Allen and Miss Clarissa, and, Mama, I need to speak with you, now. Have you seen Isaac?”
“Calm down, girl. There’s plenty of hot water. Make the tea. Isaac is gone since about three in the morning. I fixed him food to take with him. Master Allen sent him to Talladega. Baby, I know everything. Now go on, take care of Miss Clarissa. We’re going to talk later.”
When the Allens were having dinner, my mother, Belle, and I went to my mother’s cabin. As soon as we were inside, I started crying.
“Why are you crying, Sarah? Mama, why is she crying?” asked Belle.
My mother put her arm around me. “Miss Clarissa is getting married next month,” she said.
“Why?”
“You don’t need to know that. It better if you don’t know,” my mother said.
“Oh, no…that means that Sarah and Isaac is leaving us.”
“Yes, and five more from the Hall, but not you and me. But they’re only going to Talladega. Sarah, look at me. You won’t be that far, and you know that Miss Clarissa is going to be coming back to visit all the time and you’ll come with her.”
“But I’ve never been away from you, Mama, and I don’t want to leave Belle and the children.”
Belle was crying now. “Mama, there ain’t no way out of it, is there? Sarah’s got to go with Miss Clarissa, right?”
“Yes, you know that’s why they picked Sarah to be her maid, so one day when Miss Clarissa got married she didn’t have to go to
her husband’s house by herself. Sarah, Mr. Allen’s not going to break you and Isaac up. At least you’re going to be with your husband.”
My mother could not say anything to console me. I wanted to tell her and Belle that Clarissa claimed that Mr. Cromwell violated her. I thought about that day when we were in Talladega. I was sitting in the garden, out of view of the Cromwells and Clarissa, in the event that she needed something from her guestroom.
“What a perfect day for a ride. This is the type of day that Papa and I take our horses and go as far as the hills,” Clarissa said.
“It is indeed a lovely day, not too warm but not too cool. If my gout were not flaring, I would say that I would join you,” Mrs. Cromwell said.
“Well, Mr. Cromwell, shall you and I ride?”
“Yes, that is a splendid idea. You need not go far, Julius. Show Miss Allen the plantation.”
“Yes, Mother. I can do that.”
Clarissa called me and we went upstairs. “The blue riding costume and the matching hat, Sarah.”
When she returned from her ride that day, the sun had begun to set and she wanted to rest before supper. I went to the kitchen for hot water so she could wash and helped her out of her clothing when I returned. Her face was flushed. When I was brushing her hair, I had to remove a few leaves of dried grass.
“Miss Clarissa, why do you have grass in your hair?”
“Oh, can you believe it? I fell off the horse.”
“You? You’ve been riding since you were how old, five?”
“Well, this was not my Coty—this mare was spirited.”
“Are you all right?”
“Absolutely, I feel wonderful.”
Mrs. Allen summoned my mother, Belle, and me to Mrs. Allen’s rooms, where she, Clarissa, Bessie, and Dottie were waiting.
“Our dear bride-to-be has decided that she does not want to wait two years to be a married lady. She will be married early next month. The festivities, by necessity, will not be as elaborate as we initially planned. We will need everyone’s effort to ensure that the wedding is lovely, and Mr. Allen expects that we will all work hard. Dottie is going to alter my wedding dress to fit Clarissa, but she will need your assistance in that task.”
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