Patsy continues in very good health and would’ve written herself had I not prevented her from the fear of her being fatigued. The little one is perfectly well and increases in size very fast. We are desirous that you should honor her and us by conferring a name on her and have deferred the christening till we hear from you.
OUR DAUGHTER ARRIVED three weeks into the new year, a whole month early, leaving me fevered. But love cured me of that fever. Love for the little baby, bald and blue-eyed as she was, with a pink gurgling smile.
Because we were waiting on Papa for a name, the poor baby girl went without one for two whole months. But it was worth the wait. Papa chose Ann, after Tom’s dead mother.
Nothing could’ve pleased my husband more—except maybe a son of his own. The night of Ann’s christening, I rested in bed with Tom, the baby between us. My husband looked happy, and it made me want to find ways to make his happiness stick.
As the baby suckled, I whispered, “If it’s in God’s will to bless us, I’ll yet give you a boy.”
Planting a playful kiss on my bared shoulder, Tom’s eyes smoldered. “When can we start on that business, Mrs. Randolph?”
Though I wasn’t in any condition to entertain the notion, I smiled. “In due time, Mr. Randolph. In due time.”
With an uncharacteristic grin, he nodded, gently brushing our baby’s cheek. “For tonight then, I’ll content myself to be truly pleased with our Ann.”
He’ll be a good father, I thought, softening to him as I hadn’t allowed myself to before. We were a family now—a reality brought home to me more powerfully when my husband’s four young sisters fled to us en masse one cold day.
“We can’t stay at Tuckahoe anymore,” said Nancy, at sixteen, the oldest of the four. “Our father’s wife is a monster!” Nancy wept on Tom’s shoulder while he patted her back. “She slaps the little ones. She says it’d be a happier home without them, so I took them with me . . . not that our father cares one way or the other.”
The servants had ushered the younger girls into the kitchen for a spot of warm milk, and I was glad for them not to hear Nancy’s words, true though I believed them to be. “I’m sure Colonel Randolph loves you all very much,” I said, though I was sure of no such thing.
“No,” Nancy sobbed. “He loves only that vile woman.”
With baby Ann in the crook of my arm, I knelt before Nancy and grasped her hand. “Oh, he’s just enamored of her youth. In time, when the ardor fades—” I stopped speaking then, because Sally came in, setting down a tray of tea for us.
“It’ll be too late then,” Nancy cried. “My father insists that I marry the man he chooses or leave his house. But it’s her choice.”
I could guess which kind of man Gabriella Harvie Randolph might choose for her stepdaughter. Someone old and wealthy, on a faraway farm. So I persisted in my silence until Nancy sniffled and said, “Well, I left her a farewell gift anyway. I scratched the date of our mother’s death into a windowpane to remind Gabriella that no matter how many coats of white paint she puts in the parlor, she’s only the mistress of Tuckahoe because our mother is dead.”
“Oh, dear,” I said, imagining the trouble that might cause. Did all the Randolphs show their emotions so openly—going so far, even, as to enshrine them in glass? “Well, now you’ll have to stay with us until tempers cool.”
Nancy sobbed her gratitude. “I won’t be a burden to you. I won’t stay long. I’m not sure what to do with the younger girls, but Judith says I can live with her family at Bizarre plantation.”
At this, my husband stiffened. “No.”
Tom’s flat refusal surprised me. He must have surprised Nancy, too, because she whined, “Why ever not?”
Tom narrowed his dark eyes. “You know what I think of Richard Randolph.”
Curious. He’d never said anything about his brother-in-law to me.
My husband continued, “The Matoax Randolphs are scoundrels, every last one of them. Richard, Theo, and John. No. To say they’re scoundrels is too kind—and does a bit of injury to scoundrels.”
Nancy gasped. “But I’m so fond of Theo!”
The tension in Tom’s ticking jaw made it clear how hard he worked to keep his anger reined in. “All the more reason you can’t stay at Bizarre unchaperoned.”
Tom was being strangely unreasonable. If he couldn’t trust his own brother-in-law to look after Nancy, who could he trust? But my husband’s family had a knack for working him into a state.
He crossed his arms. “Richard Randolph isn’t a fit guardian for you, Nancy.”
Nancy blew on her tea. “He’s married to our sister.”
“Only because we had no choice but to let him marry her!” Tom’s sudden shout was so unexpected that I jumped and baby Ann wailed in my arms. I rose to rock and console her. Meanwhile, Tom seethed. “Richard purposefully got Judy into a delicate condition—”