Novel: Upon the Further Shore, Part II

This novel is finished. Please click on the envelope below

to email me a request for the entire novel in PDF format.

Victoria Earle

Part II
Chapter 3

Marie awoke early to the chiming of the grandfather clock, and turned to check the time. She groaned when she realized that it was only 4:30--much too early to get up--the house would be roused soon after she was about, and the staff had had a long day the day before, working hard to finish the tasks she had assigned.

Perhaps if she were very quiet--it was impossible to sleep, anyway. She lit a candle, and the third story's new bedroom dark wood carved furniture was suddenly visible around her. Better to light a single candle... she mused, placing the light on the old, elegant highboy. Searching in the drawers, she retrieved fresh clothing for the day, also newly purchased. She glanced at the wardrobe cabinet, where a number of gowns hung, most of them yet unworn. All this, and still she had not spent even half of the allowance Edward had given her, even after what she regarded as an extravagant number of purchases.

A few items had gone to Mrs. Francis; many other items went to the church emergency charity closet. She was able to contribute generously to that cause with dollars, as well; and her savings account, depleted by the dresses she had purchased for her bridesmaids, was back to its original level.

Marie had never felt this rich. Even before the War, Father never believed in extravagance. She thought of the renovations, and what that had cost--but those bills would be paid from Edward's household account, as he had insisted. And the dinner party and ball she had planned for the upcoming Saturday--Oh, well, she thought, it isn't every day your husband comes back from a five-week trip.

The ship was due to land today, shortly after noon. She had not seen him off at the dock, and she did not plan to meet him there, searching for one lone shipmast among the forest of masts at the Battery. Besides, once he saw her face and held her in his arms, she would betray her eagerness, and if he had to travel again, she did not want him to think her a weak, clinging wife, and hesitate to leave to protect her from hurt.

She decided to wear the new morning gown of deep red with its elaborate ruching, extensive furbelows and extremely narrow waist. Bessie, her maid, would have to pull her corset a little tighter than usual, but that would make it easier to put on the dark green evening gown, also a fashionable wasp-waisted, bustled style.

She turned to retrieve the candle again, setting it on the nightstand, and turned in her Bible to Psalms 100. Such a joyful verse:

Enter into His gates with thanksgiving,
And into His courts with praise;
Be thankful unto Him, and bless His name.

Marie read ahead a little bit and saw that, as often happened in the Psalms, gladness was soon followed by sorrow, and she frowned and tried to shake off the worry she had felt since Edward's last letter. A legal matter, he had written, in which he might not prevail. The habit of worry, one Marie assumed often, settled over her and she ran over her personal list of barbs. One criticism Marie had of herself was silliness, a failing of which she was virtually innocent; rather, she clutched at her catalog of personal worries like a ritual of grievances, which is what they were.

She closed the Bible and shook off the temptation to read a premonition into the words. She refused to match a Psalm to the day on she read it, as if it were an omen; rather, her worry entirely stemmed from Edward's oblique reference. Still, she was not inclined to indulge in too many negative feelings today, because Edward was coming home to her at last.

She prayed, and when she raised her head, she saw that it was late enough to call Bessie to help her dress. Marie was glad to be able to afford the maid's above-average service and to enjoy her quick wit and gentle independence. Bessie had fared as poorly as many blacks had after the War, until her hard-working, bright nature was noticed by a Northern family, whose daughter attended Marie's school.

Edward had hired her away from the other family, and now Bessie was back with Marie, after all this time. Mrs. Francis would soon leave, and Bessie would take the position of housekeeper, to be known as Mrs. Parmelee. Marie's old habit to call her Bessie was hard to break, however, and Bessie--Mrs. Parmelee--wouldn't remind her.

Bessie came into the room, smiling broadly. "Mister Edward is comin' home today! I sure will be glad to see him again after all this time." Bessie stood at Marie's average height and was amply built. The woman had a love for the Duvalier family that made Marie forget sometimes that she was a servant, regarding her more as a friend.

"I don't talk about him that much, do I, Bessie?" Marie gave her a skeptical smile.

Bessie's dark brown eyes returned a look of mock surprise. "Yes ma'am, you sure do! You must be in love for sure, Miz Marie, 'cause I've never seen you look so dreamy eyed before. You were always so serious! But bein' married has made you much prettier and you have put on some weight, finally after all this time. I gotta pull up those laces tight if you gonna wear that pretty red dress today. The waist is 'bout as tiny as I ever have seen on a morning gown."

Marie smiled. "Yes, it is tiny. But I shall look elegant, shan't I? It's so nice to have pretty clothes after being poor for so long."

"Yes'm, it sho' is," Bessie said, and called the undermaid Jasmine to bring the heated water and a tray of tea to the third floor for Marie's bath. I am really becoming quite spoiled, thought Marie, stepping luxuriously into the rose-scented water.

After the bath, Bessie pulled her corset tight, helped Marie dress, and then arranged her hair elegantly. Having been with a well-to-do family, Bessie was up-to-date on all the new clothing and hairstyles, and studied Godey's Lady's Book avidly.

Marie did not want too modish an arrangement, but she did want to appear to advantage to Edward, freshly returned from fashionable London.

She cast a glance at herself in the full-length mirror, once dressed, barely able to breathe. Beautiful as this dress was, she perversely cast a longing gaze at her old (Old! she thought) claret velvet gown, seemingly from another lifetime. She would wear that dress on Friday to the Symphony as Edward had requested, then put it away, as Valentine's Day was the last day that velvet was allowed. She had been tempted to give the dress away, but since Edward had mentioned it specifically, she kept it after all.

I could change into it now... she thought. But no, the neckline was too low for a morning dress, and then it would be crushed and have to be brushed out again. Better to save it for Friday.

She counted off one of her mental worry beads: too extravagant, or too miserly and old-fashioned? Marie knew so little of what Edward expected in a wife. She wanted to please him, for she felt that as the first blush of his intense love mellowed, his view of her would change, too, and he would become more critical of her quaint ways. That he had seemed to appreciate her, before their marriage, in her old frocks, might just be an eccentricity, or, perhaps the result of his former lonely state.

But despite her worry, she felt loved: more loved than she had ever felt in her life, rich though her family's affection had been. No, this was different, and the depth of feeling she had for her husband sometimes made her stop in amazement that she could ever experience such levels of feeling. She knew what the many love songs were talking about, and yet even those sentimental words failed miserably to express the devotion and passion she had for him. Her worth must differ greatly from the other women he had been acquainted with. His diary had had almost no mention of women except for fitful attraction-- nothing on a level she instinctively felt from him.

This seemed to be confirmed by what Marie had heard as she was "about" in Charleston: that since his arrival, practically every eligible woman in society had chased him from dinner party to ball to picnic. At least, that was what Julia Antoine had said. He had been invited everywhere except the St. Cecelia ball, where outsiders, and especially divorced men, were not allowed. That he had considered her in the midst of all that loveliness and charm, puzzled and flattered her, and she therefore wondered if by marrying her he was indulging in some odd preference. But that worry bead had almost no substance left; even though their time before his departure had been short, his devotion to her had convinced her of a deep and faithful love, into which she was putting more trust each day.

Another worry bead: she wondered for the hundredth time, whether he would wish her to try to re-enter society. Since marrying Edward, she had realized her ostracism had been to a large extent of her own making, and that the name Duvalier still brought an entree into some levels of society, if not the highest ones. It was ironic that she might be able to go back into society, despite social repercussions from her abduction by Phillip St. Germaine. The prominent family had repudiated their son, and that seemed to have settled the matter. Auntie didn't seem to have time for Society, since she did not intend to give up teaching. For her part, Marie felt she could walk away from it all, without one look back.

This train of thought led her to speculate about a higher calling than a whirl of social activities, a calling that secretly thrilled her to the point where she wondered what Edward would say, what he would think about finding a deeper purpose in life. The time was not right for this yet, but she believed God had given her this particular thought with a mind to gradual fruition.

Amy's future might be another matter. Her status as the "natural" daughter of Lord Rockingham might ironically mean more in society's eyes than the legitimacy she assumed from Edward Matthews. Her relation to the indifferent lord might never be known to the world, but that area of speculation was a total mystery to Marie, parochial as she was to the ways of Charleston society.

She swept the worry aside for the moment, and, satisfied with her dress, descended the stairs, pondering the vast changes in the house. Alone for the morning except for the servants, she toured the house one last time, checking for things out of place or in need of adjustment.

Throughout the house, the chimneys had been swept out by one of Charleston's chimney sweeps, the "roo-roos." They drew beautifully throughout the house, though she thought with a smile, Edward will think it's warm in the house, after London.

Fresh flowers were placed everywhere. The parlor had been completely stripped out and done over, new wallpaper replacing the old faded and smudged pre-War paper. It was furnished with older refinished and restored Sheraton pieces, although to an Englishman, this 80-year-old furniture might seem practically new! Pieces that did not match had gone to Mrs. Francis, and to the reception area at the school. A magnificent oriental carpet purchased at a local antique shop known for discreet purchases from Charleston's families, and a tall grandfather clock, completed the room.

The dining room was much as Edward had left it, so long ago, except of course the Christmas tree was gone, and the ornaments back in storage. But the walls and the ceiling had been cleaned, ridding them of the haze caused by the smoky chimneys.

The drawing room was open again, and offered a cool place to sit on the northern corner of the house, shaded from direct sun's glare in the afternoon. Marie glided across the room and opened a window in this room, as it was a little stuffy.

The second floor was Marie's favorite. The ballroom was resplendent with its new wallpaper, a gleaming refinished and polished floor, and the window and mantle's "Adam" moldings restored to their old-style elegance. The old hard chairs remained, but refinished and reupholstered, the holland covers washed and folded in the linen closet. New portieres hung at the windows, and silver candle sconces graced the walls. The ball here on Saturday will be delightful, Marie thought.

But Marie's favorite room in the house was the library. Here, she had indeed placed a second bookcase, since Edward had indulgently continued to send books to her from London, many of which she could not obtain in Charleston. A huge, rich Aubosson carpet covered the floor; Marie sometimes took off her shoes and walked over the rich pile in bare feet, an action which caused Bessie to raise her eyebrows and wonder aloud if "Miz Marie had ever actually grown up."

Her old bedroom and Caroline's had been reconverted to sitting rooms, their original purpose, for family or guests. Her old room, however, she had set aside particularly for Edward, and his old desk was here, his papers, the books from his bedroom at Addison House, his pipe rack, and his tumble-down chair. Standing in this room made her intensely aware of him, so she turned and glided up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Caroline's room was here, soon to be empty, it seemed; and Amy's room, and finally, their bedroom. Marie thought separate bedrooms were common in England, but she did not like the idea. None of the bedrooms in the house offered a connecting side door to another bedroom. Marie shuddered to think of being asked to provide a separate room for her husband, but she did not expect him to ask for one, and so did not add this particular worry bead to her string.

Her tour completed, having adjusted a picture frame here, a pillow there, she went down to the ballroom and took out the new sheet music Edward had sent her. She pondered his excellent character and taste, and the unusual way he had wooed her: with Symphony tickets, a Christmas tree, a picnic, sheet music ("for Amy"), and books and more music. And fervent love letters, locked away in a drawer lest the servants read them.

This novel is finished. Please click on the envelope below

to email me a request for the entire novel in PDF format.

Victoria Earle