Marcia Talley - The Last Refuge

The cornerstone for the chapel, a Beaux Arts treasure designed by architect Ernest Flagg, had been laid in 1904. Amy’s room, in the west wing overlooking the garden, would have an unobstructed view of the chapel’s magnificent dome. ‘If our Founding Father were here right now,’ I teased, ‘he’d tell you that was impossible. The chapel won’t be built for more than a century.’

Amy simply stared at me. Unwittingly, I must have hit a nerve. I felt like a total shit when she explained, ‘It’s kinda ironic, but three years ago, Drew and I were married in that chapel.’

I laid a hand on each of her thin shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. ‘Oh, Amy, I’m so sorry. Me and my big mouth.’

‘It’s OK, Hannah. I miss him, sure, but it’s over now. Drew’s dead. I’ve sold the condo. The furniture’s in storage. It’s time to move on.’

Next door, Melody had turned the volume up. ‘You make me feel that, la la la la la, you make me feel so, la la la la la…’

The moment was so not-according-to-the-script that Amy and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘At least somebody’s happy,’ Amy said.

I picked a hand mirror up from my bedside table and studied my face in the early morning light. ‘My eyebrows are pitiful. There’s a bit of a uni-brow thing going on here.’ Still holding the mirror, I turned to Amy. ‘What did they use for tweezers back then?’

‘Tweezers? I’m sure they go back to Egyptian times. Do you want me to ask the diary cam?’

I laughed. ‘No, I’ll do it. I have to do something with these eyebrows if I’m to be seen in polite company.’

With a nervous glance out the window, Amy said, ‘I laid out your green silk today, but with the weather…’

I hopped out of bed, opened up the trunk at its foot and started pawing through it.

‘If they think I’m going to wear a silk gown in this weather, they’re crazy. Homespun will do nicely, I think.’ I pulled out a dark blue gown. ‘What do you think about this?’

‘Nice.’ She handed me my petticoat. While she waited for me to step into it, she said, ‘Drew and I really didn’t have all that much time together. First it was the training, then he was deployed.’ She shrugged. ‘You know what they say after the wedding ceremony, when you walk through the arch of swords on the chapel steps and they whack you on the butt?’

I did, and I said so, but she reminded me of it anyway. ‘“Welcome to the Navy, Mrs Cornell.” I was twenty-five years old, and thought I knew everything, but nothing really prepares you to be a Navy wife, does it? A users’ manual would have come in handy.’

Amy helped me into my dress, pinned the stomacher in place, then watched, head cocked to one side, as I arranged a scarf around my neck. Once that was done, I could no longer ignore the letter that sat on the silver tray, its official wax seal staring at me accusingly like a big red eye.

I snatched the letter from the tray, plopped down in the chair, slipped my finger under the seal and opened it up. ‘Oh, blast, hell and damnation!’

‘What is it?’

‘It seems that George Washington is passing through Annapolis on Saturday, a stopover on his way from Mount Vernon to Philadelphia for a meeting of the Continental Congress. He’s representing Virginia, no surprise. He’ll be staying here overnight. Damn.’

The color drained from Amy’s face. ‘ The George Washington? As in the first president of the United States?’

‘Bingo. But he’s only a colonel. He won’t be president until…’ I paused to think. ‘… until 1789. That’s fifteen years in the future.’

‘But, all our bedrooms are taken! Where will Colonel Washington sleep?’

‘Good question.’ I thought for a moment, tapping the letter absent-mindedly on my cheek. I certainly wasn’t going to move in with Jack Donovan, even if the staff could scrounge up a bundling board somewhere. ‘We’ll give Washington the best bedroom, no question about that. Jack will have Melody’s room. That means that Melody will bunk with me, on the trundle bed.’ Just thinking about playing ‘musical beds’ made me tired. ‘I’ll have to tell French. We need to make sure we have clean sheets.

‘Founding Father also reminds me, in case I’d forgotten, that today’s market day. The vendors are expecting us; I’m to pay a visit to the Maryland Table stall. Oh, Amy! Do you think I can get out of it? I hate the idea of going out in this rain. Call me cynical, but I think the producers planned it on purpose.’

‘Planned what?’ Amy wanted to know as she tipped the tea kettle over the wash basin.

‘This evil weather. I can just hear them thinking, what could be better than to send Hannah to market on a rainy day? Watch how she ruins her shoes.’

‘You should wear your pattens,’ Amy suggested.

I’d tried out the pattens, a kind of high-heeled wooden clog that strapped over your shoes and supposedly kept your shoes and the hems of your skirts dry. But after clack-clack-clacking around the house in a pair of them, teetering like a drunk, I decided to give them a pass.

‘Your water’s ready, Hannah,’ Amy reminded me. ‘Best to use it before it gets cold.’

I dipped the flannel in the water, wrung it out and pressed the warm cloth to my face, being careful not to drip water on my dress. Note to self. Wash first. Dress second . After a moment, I said, ‘Karen will be accompanying me, of course, but it doesn’t say anything in the letter about not taking my maid along.’ I draped the damp cloth over the rim of the bowl. ‘Would you like to come, too? Get soaked along with me?’

Amy drifted to the window, pressed her forehead against the glass. ‘I admit it would be a relief to get out of the house. Melody is driving me crazy with all her mooning over some pimply-faced cowboy named Tim back in Texas. They’ve only been separated for a couple of weeks, but you’d think it was a year.’

‘Don’t be too hard on her. I remember being crazy in love at her age. When my father got transferred to San Diego from Norfolk, I thought I was going to die. I’m still crazy in love, believe it or not, and Paul and I have been married for more years than I care to count. If you look to the far right, you can almost see my house from here, but Paul might as well be on the other side of the moon.’

‘At least you’ll get to see Paul again…’ Amy’s voice broke.

‘Amy, I know what you told me earlier, but I can tell you’re not over it.’

She flapped a hand in front of her face. ‘No, no, I’m all right.’

But I didn’t believe her, not for a minute.

After I sat down at the breakfast table, I shared the news about George Washington’s visit with Jack. I thought he’d be delighted, or nervous, or apprehensive… something, but from behind a facsimile copy of the Maryland Gazette , he merely grunted. Melody looked bored, and Gabe was busily sawing his cinnamon toast into skinny, one-inch rectangles called soldiers. I wondered what the latest news was on Katherine’s condition, but decided that now wasn’t the best time to inquire.

As he’d spent the night on the trundle in Michael’s room, I had expected the dancing master to be joining us for breakfast, but his chair at the table sat empty. ‘Where’s Alex?’ I asked.

Michael scooped some melon out with his spoon. ‘He ate earlier in the kitchen. He said he had to go over to Brice House to check out the ballroom. Apparently, there’s to be a dance there next week.’

‘A dance? Is that something we’ll be invited to attend?’

Michael chewed his melon, looking thoughtful. ‘Almost certainly. I’m sure our friendly neighborhood Founding Father will be sending out invitations soon enough.’