Yankee Stranger

I. OCTOBER 29, 1860

1

IT WAS her birthday, and she was ninety-five.

She sat at her window, looking out into the quiet street beyond the white picket fence and box hedges of the front garden; waiting, like a good child, for it to be time to dress for her party. It was a pretty street, in the soft autumn sunlight of Virginia. But Williamsburg was old too, now, it had never been the same since Thomas Jefferson made them move the capital up river to Richmond, back in 1779 when he was Governor. (To make the Legislative body safe from capture by a sea-borne army, he said, and even then the British nearly caught Jefferson.) It was lively enough for a while after Yorktown, while the French were still there. The Comte de Rochambeau had come to her wedding, and paid her French compliments while they danced. Julian had taught her such good French, and so much of it, that she missed no nuances of Rochambeau’s compliments, and found them a trifle embarrassing. All the French soldiers were very oncoming people….

She sat smiling out into the noonday sun from her big chair in the window. Her age was always quite incredible, especially to herself. It seemed only the other day that she had stood before the altar in the brick church in the Duke of Gloucester Street and heard those grave words so gently spoken—"I, Julian, take thee, Tabitha, to my wedded wife—" And yet the wealth, the fabulous riches of life the years since then had bestowed on Tibby Mawes! Three children they had had—it was not enough, but she was so small and something went wrong when Lavinia was born—there weren’t any more after Lavinia. They had had Giles first—Julian’s son—you couldn’t ask for better than Giles. And now there was Giles’s son Ransom, and you couldn’t do better than Ransom either, if it came to that; always biddable and good-tempered, ruling his household as firmly and tactfully as ever Julian himself had done. One was very fortunate to live with a grandson like Ransom, and his wife Felicity, so truly named, and his children who were one’s own great grandchildren….

And yet it seemed only the other day that Julian was still alive, going a little grey, but carrying himself just as tall as he had done the first day she ever saw him—only a little while since Julian’s death, swift and kind, by a fall from a new horse he had not allowed them to gentle for him. She was only sixty when Julian died, though, and they never let her forget, either, that she had had a proposal of marriage within the year. And that was more than thirty years ago….

They said that Richmond was very gay these days, in spite of all this slavery talk—abolition—secession—she could remember when it was Massachusetts that was going to secede instead of South Carolina. But who would live in Richmond when Williamsburg still sat here in the sun, a little shabby, perhaps, a little down at heel, and the lovely Palace all burnt to a shell when the troops used it for a hospital after Yorktown, and even the Raleigh not what it was—the balls they used to have in the Raleigh, and the gay dinners in the Daphne Room—the glitter was all gone to Richmond now. Archer Crabb, who had asked her to marry him before her widow’s year was out, had had a big house in Richmond and was in the Legislature and did a lot of entertaining. She supposed if she had married Archer she would be living there in Franklin Street now, with his grandchildren from his first marriage—they preferred it to their Williamsburg house, except for holidays. But one would be lonely in a big place like Richmond where one never knew who might be passing by, instead of here where everybody looked up at the window to wave, and people ran in and out all day long with flowers, or letters to read to her, or a dish of something they thought she might fancy. They said she knew the whole town by its given name, and probably she did. One wasn’t ninety-five for nothing——

Felicity! Where are you? Eden! Somebody come here at once and tell me who this man is Sally has got by the arm! Never saw him before in my life, and she making eyes as though he was the King!

Whose King, Gran? But Eden came with a swift rustle of silk to look over the high back of the chair into the street.

They’re stopping at the gate, Dee. Is she going to bring him in?

Not if she can help it! She wouldn’t give Sue and me a chance at him for worlds!

Do you want a chance? Who is he?

He’s a Yankee named Cabot Murray. He is visiting President and Mrs. Ewell at the College.

Know anything more about him?

He’s very tall, dark, and handsome, with a cleft in his chin and the devil in his eye, and Sally is simply terrified that somebody will get him away from her before she can make him fall in love with her.

Is he likely to?

I don’t see why not, Gran, Sally is very pretty.

Not so pretty as you are, Dee.

Now, Gran, would you have me set my cap for a Yankee just to prove that?

What’s wrong with a Yankee if he’s got long legs and would make a good husband, I’d like to know?

That’s heresy these days! Uncle Lafe would throw him out of the house if he tried to marry Sally. Besides—I’m not sure Cabot Murray would make a good husband.

How long have you known him? Why have you all kept so mum about him? Why haven’t I seen him close to?

I don’t know him at all. There has been no reason to discuss him. And you haven’t seen him because Mrs. Ewell hasn’t brought him to call.

Why hasn’t she—

Because he’s a Yankee, no doubt, and she knows he isn’t welcome everywhere. Look—he’s going on and Sally is coming in. Now you can quiz her about him to your heart’s content.

The tall stranger had lifted his hat and bowed over Sally’s hand, which lingered in his as she backed reluctantly away from him and through the open gate behind her. Her head turned after him while he walked down the street, very long in the leg, it is true, very broad in the shoulder and narrow in the hips, with a spring that was almost a swagger in his step.

As Eden was about to whisk away from the window she felt herself caught and held by a small firm hand on her wrist.

How do you know, demanded her great grandmother, that he has the devil in his eye?

Eden flushed.

I can’t tell you now, she whispered. Later! And she freed herself and ran out of the room to call a greeting down the stairs to her cousin Sally, and ask her to come up at once because Gran wanted to see her.

Tabitha Day, whose husband had called her Tibby and had had very long legs himself, leaned forward to catch another glimpse of the Yankee as he turned the corner towards the Duke of Gloucester Street. (Her eyesight was as good as new, except for fine print.) Young, she decided, with that walk. A horseman, with those hips. Bowed like a gentleman, hat in hand. And there was something Eden hadn’t told.

2

Sally Sprague was fair and high-bosomed and a beauty like her great grandmother Regina. She was spoilt too. But she could not hold a candle to her cousin Eden Day, whose hair was golden red and whose eyes were greenish, and whose chin was round and sensitive and always quivered pathetically just before she cried. The hair she got from Giles, who had got it from Julian’s mother. The eyes were her great grandmother Tabitha’s. The chin was Eden’s own.

Sally was still wearing a rather guilty sparkle when she came into the square white room, bright with chintz and needle-point, where Grandmother Day had lived as long as anybody could remember. In this fourth generation of Williamsburg Days, relationships were very closely knit. Sally and Eden were double first cousins, for Sally’s mother and Eden’s father were sister and brother, and they had married Lafayette and Felicity Sprague, who were brother and sister. The middle generation of Days and Spragues had been more than pleased, for the bonds of friendship were already old and strong, and the two families had grown up in each other’s gardens and nurseries almost as one. But Grandmother Day had thought at the time that for Louise and Felicity it must be rather like marrying their own brothers, rather like something forbidden in the Bible—and had told herself to mind her own business, because Julian was no longer there to tell her himself. Neither of the boys had ever courted another girl. Felicity, it is true, had led Ransom a dance, but Louise and Lafayette had been in love in their cradles. Louise was allowed to marry at sixteen in order to make it a double wedding, when Felicity suddenly made up her mind to take Ransom after all, and he was afraid to give her time to change her mind, he said. But the worst flirts always make the best wives, the saying goes, and Ransom’s marriage was a very happy one. As for Sally’s parents, Louise and Lafe—they were sweethearts still, till it made your heart ache for your own lost love to see them together.

Sally’s veil was laid back over the brim of her bonnet and her blond curls shone on either side of her glowing face. Her teeth were white and even in her wide smile, her dark blue eyes were candid and gay.

Hello, Gran, she said gently, and bent with swooping grace for her kiss. Mother said I mustn’t stay long because there will be streams of people later on to say Happy Birthday and you mustn’t be tired. I just had to see your dress, is that it on the bed? May I look? Oh, Gran, it’s perfect!

The dress lay there, full spread by Mammy’s loving hands, in its pride of lace and taffeta—too lilac to be grey, its yards of narrow velvet ribbon trimming a rich lavender. She always had a new dress for her birthday party, and it was always exquisitely right, ever since the day when it had been rose and white, as became a seventeen-year-old bride, down to this cheerful compromise with dignity and old age.

We’ll none of us ever have a waist like yours! sighed Sally, reflecting enviously for the hundredth time on her grandmother’s distant girlhood. I’ll bet Grandfather could get his two hands right round it with room to spare!

All three of them glanced instinctively towards the portrait above the mantelpiece—Julian Day looked back at them from the gold frame, the deep corners of his generous mouth hinting at the smile which also lurked behind his eyes.

Mother says she can remember him carrying Gran about the house as though she was a doll, one time when she hurt her foot getting out of the carriage, said Eden.

Does she really remember that? Grandmother Day was pleased. She couldn’t have been more than five at the time.

"I wish I could remember him! Eden stood before the portrait, looking up. He looks as though he’d never said an unkind word in his life. Did he ever lose his temper, Gran?"

Julian’s widow smiled.

Not with me, she said.

How dull! said Sally, and her eyes were shining and reckless. I like a man who is a bit of a brute., I think!

Have you seen one like that? queried Grandmother Day, and added with the lightest possible stress—lately?

Sally’s eyes went to the window above the street, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Very deliberately then she came and sat down on the footstool beside her grandmother’s chair, and laid one arm across her grandmother’s knees.

Eden, dear, she said in the artificial sort of voice grown-ups sometimes use towards children who are in the way, didn’t I hear Mammy calling you a minute ago?

As a matter of fact, you did not, said Eden with entire good humor. But I have no desire to hear about your Yankee, if that’s what you mean! And she marched out, her nose well up.

Sally hunched her shoulders with childish amusement, and laughed, and looked slantwise to see how her grandmother took it. The eyes which met hers seemed as young and knowing as her own.

Why don’t you bring him to the party? said Tibby Day.

Oh, Gran! I wouldn’t dare!

It’s my party. I’ll ask whomever I please to come to it!

The Ewells aren’t coming, though, because Mrs. Ewell has been ill.

I’m sorry to hear that. But he can come with you, then.

F-Father says he won’t have a damn-Yankee in the house any more, Sally remarked uncertainly.

This isn’t your father’s house, Sally, it’s Ransom’s.

You think Uncle Ransom wouldn’t mind?

I don’t see why he should. Any guest of the Ewells is surely welcome here.

"Well, you see, Gran, President Ewell went to West Point and all, and—and he seems very much opposed to Secession, and—and besides, nobody seems to know quite who Mr. Murray is."

Don’t the Ewells know who he is?

"Oh, yes—that is, I suppose they must, but they don’t say, really, except that his father was at West Point too, and has left the Army since, like President Ewell."

Isn’t that good enough?

"Well, I don’t think you quite realize, Gran—since that dreadful business about John Brown last year, people are getting awfully worked up against the Yankees. Father says if Lincoln is elected he really doesn’t know."

Know what?

Oh, Gran, you don’t think there’s going to be a war?

War—between the States? Her grandmother’s clear eyes darkened and sought, as they always did when she was troubled, the face of the portrait above the mantelpiece. What would he say to this foolish quarrel between men who spoke the same language and believed in the same religions and principles of government? He hated war, but he had fought under General Greene and Lafayette to establish this union of States, which had grown from thirteen to—how many were there now?—Texas had come in—was Texas the last? What would he think about Lincoln? No! cried Tibby Day, with sharp conviction. No, they will find some way! We have been through too much together, just a little while ago—there was no North and no South at Valley Forge and Yorktown! They are sure to find some way, Sally, never fear.

But Sally was looking frightened.

It would mean Sedgwick—and Dabney—and maybe Fauquier—going off to get shot! It doesn’t seem possible that one’s own family should be in a war. I thought we had finished with all that!

Yes, dear—we hoped so. I’m sure we have. Feeling often runs high at election time. They’ll quiet down again when that’s over.

But Lincoln, Gran—they say he’s like an ape!

Who says? That Yankee?

N-no, Mr. Murray thinks Lincoln can hold the country together if anybody can. He says——

Has he seen Mr. Lincoln, then?

Yes. Well, I don’t know, for sure. One can’t tell.

Can’t you ask him?

Sally fidgeted.

You—don’t ask him things straight out, like that. He’s so—he’s a strange man, Gran.

Is that why you like him so much?

I’m not sure I like him—so much.

You’d better let me see him, don’t you think?

If you do, you mustn’t give him any impression that I— Her wide blue eyes came up, and dropped again.

My dear, I wasn’t born yesterday. You bring him to the party.

Can you manage Father?

I think so, said Tibby Day, and smiled.

He’ll yell, warned Sally, for Lafayette Sprague’s moods were ebullient and noisy.

Not at me, he won’t!

H-how shall I——

Just run round to President’s house on your way home, and tell them I sent to enquire about Carrie Ewell, and to say it would give me pleasure if she would lend me their guest today. Then tell your father I asked you to bring Mr. Murray with you.

It sounds simple, but——

And if your father has anything to say, added Grandmother Day, tell him to save it up and I’ll listen tomorrow. I haven’t time now before I dress.

3

When Sally had departed, with a last rather doubtful wave at the window from the gate, it soon occurred to Grandmother Day that Eden was avoiding her. She rapped with her ebony stick on the floor beside her chair—which for some reason always seemed to her a less peremptory summons than ringing the little bell which stood within her reach—and Mammy’s starched white turban came round the door.

‘Tain’t no need to git dressed yit, Mistis, honey—I ain’ fergot you!

I want Eden first.

Miss Eden doin’ de flowers now.

Ask her to come here. Sue can do the flowers.

I tell her you say so— It trailed away unwillingly as Mammy disappeared.

Eden came in briskly, wearing a white apron and trying to look as though she had been interrupted in the midst of important affairs and had only a moment to spare.

Yes, Gran?

Grandmother Day pointed with her ebony stick to the footstool where Sally had sat, and Eden placed herself on it docilely and smiled up into her grandmother’s face, trying to look as though she had no recollection of any previous conversation which might be considered unfinished.

Isn’t it almost time you got dressed? she enquired.

Sally is going to bring Mr. Murray to the party, said Grandmother Day. I’d like to see a real live Yankee, we never thought much about them one way or the other in the old days.

Eden’s fingers went to her mouth in a gesture of half-shocked excitement.

"Gran-really!"

It’s my party, isn’t it? Now, what was that about his eyes?

They’re very dark—very—bold.