Chapter Four

Judy had thought to be a mother by the time her Cousin Mary's wedding to Randy took place. Instead, she spent most of it trying not to cry. It wasn't her first public outing since losing the baby, but the crowd and the prospect of so many familiar faces intimidated her. Father, for one. Would he mention their loss? Dick had written, and Father expressed condolences but sent no separate message for her. She supposed all her sisters knew. Molly was kind but pitying. David, Molly's husband, had made himself invisible in his own home. Dick had wept and held Judy close. His love poured strength into her bones, and she imagined them forever bound in tragedy. But it didn't last. In the time it took to travel back to Matoax, his grief evaporated. Dick picked up their life as if nothing of significance had happened. A dull, cold ache crept up her arms and had not left her. She thought she might never feel warm again.

"No oysters," murmured Dick into her ear. "A shame, but no surprise."

Mary and Randy's wedding wasn't as lavish as their own had been. Clifton was a grand property, but it was an open secret that the Harrison family was selling land to pay off debts. They didn't try to impress their guests with oysters and venison, and Judy admired them for it, whatever Dick might say. She had learned a great deal about him in recent months. Only a few days ago, they'd endured harsh words from Mr. Tucker, words it clearly pained that amiable man to pronounce. Dick hung his head like a sulky child and threw a vase at the wall the moment Tucker's carriage rolled away.

"Judy!" A familiar voice brought her back to the present.

"Patsy Randolph! How are you, sister?" As the ceremony concluded, conversations broke out, and a band in the corner struck up a lively tune. Judy kissed her sister-in-law and held her by the shoulders. "Don't answer that. I see married life suits you."

Patsy's cheeks grew rosy. "Your brother is most affectionate."

"You are not . . . ?" Judy couldn't say the words.

Patsy tossed her curls. "No. Although I hope it will not be long. Tom tells me he plans to take his responsibilities seriously in that regard."

"Patsy!"

"Is my wife shocking you with some gossip, sister?" Tom kissed her on the cheek and placed his arm around Patsy's waist.

"Not in the least. I was merely complimenting her on her looks, but she dismisses all my words as flattery."

"Hmm. I wish I could say the same for you, Judy."

"Tom!"

"What? She looks a little pale, that's all I'm saying."

"You are saying too much. Ignore the brute, Judy. I think you look well. And your gown is most becoming."

"Thank you, Patsy." She couldn't look at Tom. "If you'll excuse me, I must congratulate Cousin Mary."

She moved away, but not quickly enough to avoid hearing her brother's voice once more. "What? She looks positively haggard. I hope that lazy dog Randolph is looking after her properly."

Every muscle in Judy's back tensed. In another setting, she would have given Tom a dressing-down for his insults. She scanned the crowd for her husband. He was talking to Nancy and laughing, as carefree as any young man in the room.

* * *

Nancy smiled up at Dick as he whispered about Gabriella Harvie. "She'll turn milk sour in a few years, I've seen that type of girl all too often."

"Surely, Father can see that if you can? I can't abide the thought of her in my mother's room. Tell me you don't think he'll do it. How can I share my home with her? She can't be a mother to me, and heaven knows, I've no shortage of sisters."

"True. But I don't see Gabriella getting the better of you, Miss Nancy, and besides, you'll be setting up your own household with some young dog soon."

"Will I though? Do you see suitors elbowing their way across the floor to pay homage and claim my hand then? For I see no one."

"Surely, Archie will be by your side any moment. I can't think what's keeping him."

"Can't you? He will feed his belly and quench his thirst first. He might imagine himself in love, but believe me, he thinks of nothing and no one until his stomach is satisfied."

"Do you see through us all, as you see through Archie? No," he raised both hands, "don't answer that."

Nancy dropped her gaze. "Your brothers Theo and Jack do not attend today?"

"Looking to enslave all the Randolph brothers are you now?"

"No!" She saw the amused sparkle in Dick's eye and laughed. "You are unkind to tease me so. I'm simply making proper conversation. Are your brothers busy with their studies?"

"Jack is, to a degree. But Theo?" Dick shook his head. "I enjoyed myself at his age and certainly kicked up the traces now and then. But let's just say Theo may be a little too wild for his own good."

Nancy and her father were silent in their carriage as it rolled and rattled through the darkness to Tuckahoe. She had much to think about. Judy didn't look well, and there was no sign she was carrying a child. Her sister was not happy and perhaps never had been, at least not in the way Patsy so evidently was. Dick, on the other hand, was as relaxed and charming as ever. His brother might not be her ideal suitor, but Theo's absence disappointed her, never mind Dick's commentary. He wasn't an accomplished dancer or conversationalist, but he was younger than General Henry Lee, a widower in his late thirties, recently introduced by her father in a suspiciously friendly manner. The general had become a frequent visitor at Tuckahoe. On his last visit, she'd been directed to show him their herb garden. He was vastly knowledgeable about horticulture, she'd learned. It was a shame he was not so well acquainted with the art of charming a young lady. He was old, boring and not dangerous in the least. Theo, on the other hand? He might be a bit of a blockhead, a little wild even, but was that the worst thing in the world? Mary's brother Archie paid his usual attentions at the wedding, but no one could consider him handsome, no matter how amiable he was. And he had warm, sweaty hands. Theo didn't dance terribly well, but she didn't flinch when he took her hand.

Did Gabriella Harvie flinch when asked to dance by Father? The consensus of the Randolph sisters present at Clifton was she did not. Concerns were expressed in whispers between bowed bonnets and the kissing of cheeks as the wedding party came to an end. Under the rumble of coach wheels and the stamp of hooves, they all agreed — his interest was fixed and likely reciprocated.

"I expect you to write and let me know of any developments," murmured Molly, her lips half-pressed to Nancy's cheek as she bade her farewell. "This concerns you most."

"I know it. But what can be done?"

"Very little, I imagine," whispered Lizzie. She pulled her into a close embrace. "You must be prepared."

"I don't know how you'll bear it." Judy's head was bowed. Nancy couldn't see her eyes and hadn't managed a single private word with her.

No wonder she spent the drive home fretting. She'd write to Aunt Page to try and learn what had happened to Judy. With that decided, she turned her thoughts to Gabriella Harvie. The idea of her moving into Tuckahoe as her stepmother sat like a rock in her stomach. Gabriella was pretty, certainly, but also waspish, her brittle smile often the prelude to a sting. In the darkness, Nancy shook her head. Their older brothers and sisters would help. There would need to be visits, long visits. Gabriella would not leave her to manage things with the slaves, and there was only one real path open if she wanted to leave Tuckahoe. She needed to marry. She bit her lip and glared at the shadowy outline of her father opposite her in the carriage. Was he dreaming of Gabriella Harvie? Worse, was he lusting after Gabriella Harvie? Nancy shifted uncomfortably. At sixteen, Judy had met Dick Randolph, a handsome, charming older son from one of the best branches of the family in all Virginia. Where was Nancy's Dick Randolph? A loud sigh escaped her, stirring her father.

"Not sleeping yet? I should have asked the Harvies to travel with us."

She said nothing, thankful for the darkness of the coach, but Father was not satisfied.

"What do you say, Nancy? I only wish I'd thought of doing so earlier. A fine young woman, Miss Harvie. Wise for her years, too, don't you agree?"

She thought of the letter she would pen to Molly first thing in the morning. "Yes, Father. I hear nothing but good things about Miss Harvie."

"I am glad of it."

They settled back into silence for the remainder of the journey home.

* * *

Judy was more in command of her emotions by fall, when, after a short betrothal, her father married Gabriella Harvie. The Randolph sisters and brothers attended the wedding, feigning enthusiasm with varying degrees of success.

"Patsy hides it well," she said to Nancy, "but she must be as worried as Tom." They were huddled near the fireplace in the Harvie's home. The room was crushed and overheated, the air sticky with the scent of pine and roasted meats. She felt the heat of the fire on her legs and shifted her skirts before the delicate fabric was scorched.

"The thought of Gabriella Harvie having a child makes me nauseous." Nancy kept her voice low.

"Must you be so inelegant?"

"I'm speaking clearly and to the purpose. And to my own sister. I'm not sure what's inelegant about it. That's what's worrying Tom and Patsy. Oh, Lord, here she comes."

"Mrs. Randolph. Miss Nancy." Gabriella put out a stiff little hand for her new stepdaughters to shake.

"Your gown is beautiful, Gab—" Judy's voice faltered, "Mrs. Randolph."

"Why, thank you. Your charming father certainly thinks so." Gabriella turned, and she followed her gaze across the room. Father had a fine face — a high intelligent forehead, a firm jawline, a wide nose — but gray hair sprang from his ears and hairline, and his cheeks sat heavy, almost pulling the corners of his eyes. His legs were thinner than Tom's, his shoulders hunched, his belly fuller than a younger man's might be. He was in his late forties, Gabriella still only eighteen. The thought of them lying together — no, Judy had no stomach for it. Her thoughts flitted to her own marriage, to her hasty commitment to Dick, to the problems they had encountered since that day on the riverbank, and she was stabbed by sudden concern for the girl. But Gabriella didn't look or sound like a bride in need of sympathy.

"I can barely wait until this is all over and Mr. Randolph and I can be at home with everyone. I have so many ideas and long to decorate."

"Decorate?" Judy heard the edge in Nancy's voice.

"Why, of course! Isn't that the first thing you did at Matoax, Mrs. Randolph? I heard you spent a small fortune. And yet, already, you have moved to Bizarre, Mr. Randolph says. How do you find the smaller house? And the isolation?"

"We are happy there, thank you. I hope you will visit us." Judy saw Gabriella kept her claws sharp, but she'd missed her mark for the moment. The change of location — forced upon them as part of an urgent need to economize — had done Judy good. Bizarre lay far west of Tuckahoe, in the southern tip of Cumberland County. Options for entertaining and spending money were limited — a relief, although she knew better than to say so to Dick. "Plantation management," she continued, "is hard work, mind you. A great deal of responsibility is now yours. Nancy will assist you, I'm sure."

Gabriella's chin sank into her neck. "I hardly think so. She's barely out of the schoolroom. A mere child. And you will agree, surely, Mrs. Randolph — if you can master the challenge of being a plantation mistress, it won't be beyond my powers?" She didn't take her eyes from Judy's face or acknowledge Nancy's existence. "I don't suppose you meant to be insulting, did you? I'd be sorry to have to tell my dear husband you hold such a low opinion of his new wife."

"That was far from my meaning!"

But Gabriella turned her back and walked away.

* * *

Within two weeks of the new Mrs. Randolph taking up residence, Nancy had written to each of her older sisters more than once, passionately detailing all of Gabriella's insults and snide remarks. She wrote at length to Tom and Patsy at Edgehill, a Jefferson property not far from Monticello, and while tempering her words somewhat to suit Tom's taste, she spared nothing in her stories of Gabriella's redecorating efforts, in particular her decision to paint the walnut paneling in the parlor white.

Her letter produced results. Tom paid a visit, and the fraying of his temper was clear. At the house, her brother sat on his views and opinions on his young stepmother's presumption, but he suggested Nancy return to Edgehill with him for a few weeks and waxed lyrical about the awfulness of Gabriella for their whole coach ride. Nancy lapped it up, agreeing with every word. Nothing suited her more than freedom from her stepmother's constant barbs about the number of children in the house and their utter dependence upon her kindness and good opinion for their future prosperity and happiness. She spent her days at Edgehill, curled up, re-reading Clarissa and The Vicar of Wakefield and trying to glean some poise from Patsy, who, when she wasn't wrapped up in household matters or scribbling letters to her father in Philadelphia, was happy to take walks and even share a few confidences.

"Tom and I are hopeful that your father will sell us some of the family land near here," she said, taking Nancy's arm and pulling her up a hill on the promise of a fine view of the orange and red of Albemarle County in the fall.

"You wish to be near your father?"

"Of course. We've been so close since Mother died. To be married is wonderful, but to leave one's family altogether?" She made a wry face.

"It makes sense when you say it. But my own case is different."

"Your father is not perhaps as openly affectionate as mine?"

"Definitely not! What does Tom say of him?"

"Very little. My father speaks so highly of yours, but he's not, I have come to learn, a warm man."

"No. And neither is the awful Gabriella. They are two cold fish, and I am sick of them."

"Enough! Your outspoken ways will get you in trouble one of these days!" Patsy's words admonished, but her eyes sparkled. "Here." She grabbed Nancy's shoulders and turned her to look down toward the house and the valley below. "This view will lift the lowest of spirits."

"If I were Tom, I would cleave to your father. In all seriousness, I would."

"You're a sweet girl to say so."

"You must be thankful he's never remarried. It's good to see not all old men seek to latch onto some poor girl with limited options."

Patsy stared for a moment and opened her mouth only to close it again. She shook her head and smiled. "You don't really think Gabriella is a ‘poor girl' now, do you?"

Nancy snorted with laughter. "No, I certainly don't. But it's what I may be if things carry on the way they are! She and Father will marry me off to some prosy gentleman who snores after supper and grimaces whenever he stands up."

"Nancy!"

"He'll have tufty hair in his ears and his nostrils and crumbs on his waistcoat. I can see it all."

"You can see nothing, you pea-goose. There are many fine young men who would be far more suitable. Your sisters made good matches. Your father did right by them and will do right by you. I'm sure of it."

"That was my mother's doing. Or their own. That was before the new Mrs. Randolph installed herself in my mother's place. Everything has changed, now, Patsy. I used to dream of the future — of my own home, my husband, children. Now, I'm not so sure."