Somewhere in the World

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

December 1859

 

“Margaret, would you care to go with us to visit the Middletons?”

Aunt Shaw’s voice cut through her niece’s wandering thoughts, and made her snap to attention from where her mind had been straying just moments before. Setting her needlework aside, Margaret said in a subdued voice, “I am sorry, Aunt. I was not listening. What did you ask me?”

Her aunt huffed in irritation. “For heaven’s sake, Margaret, this is the third time this morning that I have had to repeat what I said to you. Wherever is your mind?” She turned her aggrieved gaze to her sister. “What is the matter with the girl?”

Mrs. Hale replied, “I daresay she has other things on her mind, sister. Do not scold her for not attending to all of our conversations. We have been chattering away all morning.

Margaret shot her mother a glance of gratitude, but felt guilty nonetheless. Her aunt had been nothing but welcoming and generous since their arrival. She had thrown several large dinner parties with their former acquaintances. She had planned any number of pleasant outings—barbecues and concerts, shopping trips, and so many dances that Margaret’s feet hurt. She and her mother had been invited to dine with the cream of Charleston society, and had enjoyed lunches and teas at the best restaurants in the gracious old city.

Aunt Shaw had even ordered three new gowns for Margaret—one a tender green the color of new spring leaves, one a soft apricot, and one a magnificent ivory satin overlaid with cream lace. This last gown had large sleeves garnished with looping medallions of ribbon, and a bodice embroidered with tiny pink roses and green leaves that resembled the sugared decorations on petit fours. When Margaret modeled the gown for her aunt and mother, Aunt Shaw remarked proudly that it could have served for presentation to the Queen of England.

Margaret was pleased, but was also tired from what she considered to be the constant whirl of society. She wondered where she would ever wear her new gowns once she returned to New England, where evening clothes were made from heavy fabrics and in subdued colors. She would be a canary among sparrows, she thought wryly.

Truth be told, she missed her life of purpose in Lovell. She may not dine on lobster and oysters there, or dance the waltz every night to fine string ensembles, but she had been busy and needed. She had cried out with pleasure when she had unwrapped her gowns, and had enjoyed peacocking before her mother, aunt, and cousin, modeling each one. However, she could not help but reflect that one of those gowns alone could have paid the salaries of several mill workers in Lovell for a year. She quickly pushed these uneasy thoughts aside, uncertain of where they might stray if she thought of mills.

What made her more uneasy were the slaves about her. She had never thought to notice how many toiled away in the great house in Charleston when she had lived there before. Now, having discussed such matters with Nicholas and having read treatises from the northern abolitionists, she saw how limited and constrained their lives were, and considered the inhumanity of keeping an entire race in bondage.

She recalled sitting down to breakfast the morning before she had departed New England for Charleston. Her father had wordlessly passed the Lovell newspaper to her at the breakfast table, and she read that John Brown had been executed for treason. Margaret had felt her heart sink within her breast. She had been forewarned by Nicholas that such an outcome was expected, but she had hoped that some other punishment might be offered. Instead, the Lovell paper had reported that John Brown was accompanied to the scaffold by the sheriff and his deputies, but no minister since he had consistently rejected any ministrations of what he claimed was a clergy that supported slavery. The article had noted that western Virginia was in the grips of virtual hysteria, so most northerners, including journalists, were run out of town.