Chapter 2

Aunt Phinny, have you ever been ashamed of being Cherokee?” Connie asked as she finished dressing for the fund-raiser ball she would attend that evening. She had battled with that question on many occasions, but she knew she’d had it much easier than her father and his family.

Her aunt looked thoughtful. “I suppose some would say I should be, but that truly isn’t why I remain silent about it. There was a time when everyone around me knew that I was a quarter Cherokee, and they did their best to make me miserable. Your father and our other siblings and I were made fun of and challenged at every turn. When I found a man who didn’t mind my heritage, I was so grateful. In all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have looked twice at your uncle otherwise. He wasn’t the type of man I found at all intriguing, with all of his books and focus on ancient rituals and cultures.” She smiled. “But he was so unconcerned with my being part Indian that it endeared him to me. And, of course, as I got to know him, I fell in love.”

“I don’t feel ashamed, but the world makes it clear that I should, and I’m only one-eighth Cherokee.” Connie looked into the cheval mirror and adjusted a curl. “But that’s the trouble with the world. Certain folks have decided what we should or shouldn’t find shameful, and the rest of us have it imposed upon us.”

“That’s true enough. I’ve heard the same argument said of religious views,” Aunt Phinny declared. “That’s why I’ve always tried to focus more on being kind and loving as a means of getting people interested in better knowing God.”

Connie nodded. “In some cases, I’ve felt compelled to hide my faith along with my heritage. Isn’t it sad that people can’t just be themselves without fear of retribution?” She stepped back and met her aunt’s sad expression. “Few know that Papa is a quarter Cherokee, or that I’m an eighth, and they probably never will. And I can’t help but feel that that’s not right.”

Then, as she always had done, Connie pushed those thoughts aside and buried them deep.

She twirled like a little girl to show off her dress. “Well, what do you think, Aunt Phinny?”

Her aunt studied her a moment. “It’s hard to believe you’re all grown up. When you came here, you were just fifteen and so petite—just like your mother.” She motioned for Connie to turn again. “This time go slower.”

Connie did as instructed. “I love the fit of this gown. Pity I’ll have no use for it after tonight.”

“We can keep it here for you, and then when you visit, you’ll have something beautiful to wear.”

Connie studied her reflection in the mirror. The buttery yellow garment was cut from the finest silk, with beautiful inlays in the overskirt that allowed for glimpses of delicate lace. The original bodice had been cut low and square, but Aunt Phinny had arranged for her dressmaker to fashion a more modest décolletage. Connie turned to see the back of the gown as best she could. The bustled train fell in a waterfall effect of gathered silk and lace, spreading out behind her in a most appealing fashion. “Maybe I’ll take it with me. There’s bound to be some formal occasion.”

“You might get married. It would make a lovely wedding gown.”

Connie chuckled. “I have no plans for that, Auntie. I see no reason to wed. I have plenty of friends who keep me from growing lonely, and with no one to share my bed, I don’t have to worry about sharing my covers either.”

“Goodness, child.” Aunt Phinny laughed. “I’ve never heard of a young woman who had such an aversion to marriage.”

“It’s not an aversion. More simply put, I like being in control of my own life. You and Uncle have taught me that a woman can fare well enough for herself if she gains the knowledge she needs to navigate life. Thanks to you both, I feel I have that.”

“Well, I can’t help but believe that one day a young man will come along and sweep you off your feet. Now, turn again.” Connie did as instructed. “You’re absolute perfection, and I like the way the maid arranged your hair with those tiny white roses. Quite stylish yet subdued.”

“I wish you and Uncle were coming tonight.”

“I do too, but we’d already committed to dinner with the Hamiltons. Besides, I have a feeling this ball will attract more young people than elderly folks like us.”

Connie laughed and went to kiss her aunt’s cheek. “There is nothing elderly about you and Uncle. You do far more work than many people half your age. I caught Uncle in the garden just yesterday, down on his knees, pruning the roses.”

“Keeping busy keeps us youthful,” her aunt admitted. “But ballrooms hold little interest for me these days. Your uncle cannot dance as he once could, and I’ve no desire to dance with anyone else.” She smiled. “Now, you run along and have fun. I’m sure Thomas and your friends will be much better company than Uncle or I could be.”

“Speaking of friends, Sallyanne asked for a ride to the ball, so I suppose I should hurry.”

“There you are. You’ll have Sallyanne as your ally.”

But Connie knew that once they arrived at the fund-raiser, she’d be left to the mercy of dozens of would-be suitors. Tom couldn’t devote his entire evening to her. He was, after all, a very eligible bachelor. Sallyanne loved being seen, so she would be dancing as much as possible.

Connie sighed and gathered her wrap. “I doubt we’ll be all that late getting home. Tom and I have so much to do before we leave next week, and we need what sleep we can get.”

“Knowing Sallyanne as I do, I doubt she’ll want to come home early,” Aunt Phinny said in a sympathetic tone.

“Her folks are coming late, so they’ll take her home. She only asked for our help in getting there so she could spend as much time dancing and flirting as possible.”

“Then you’d best hurry. It’s nearly eight.”

Connie glanced at the clock. It seemed only moments ago it had read seven. “Goodness, the minutes are just flying by.”

“So are the years.” Her aunt sighed. “I shall miss you so much, my dear. You came to us when we had suffered such great loss. Having laid Regina and Millicent to rest only months before, we were so grateful to have you stay with us. Then, when Monty went off to West Point just weeks after your arrival, I was even more grateful to have you. I think I would have died of loneliness and sorrow without you.”

“Perhaps you should invite another family member to come and keep you company. My cousin Meg, Grace Armistead’s daughter, is nearly fifteen. Perhaps she would like to attend Mount Vernon Seminary for Girls.” Connie shrugged. “She might not be immediate family, but she is family, in a rather extended way.”

“Well, your uncle has promised me a trip West, although it will have to be delayed because of all the responsibilities we have in the immediate future. But I do intend to visit my brother and the rest of the family before too much time passes. I miss them all. Perhaps you could invite your cousin to come spend time with you while we’re there.”

“I’ll do exactly that. I had always hoped Mama and Papa might be able to come here for a visit, but they never seemed able to get away from their work.”

“Your uncle is like that as well. But it has paid off. His position with the Smithsonian is quite to his liking. It is, in fact, everything he could have ever hoped for, and spending his days with his books and artifacts pleases him more than anything else in the world. That, in turn, makes me happy.”

“Well, perhaps you can entice him with the work the Bureau of Ethnology is doing.” Connie gave her aunt another kiss. “No matter what, you’re both loved, and I know you will be very welcome in Oregon. Now, I’d better go. I’m sure Tom will be here soon, if he isn’t already.”

She found Tom and Uncle Dean deep in conversation when she reached the first floor. The men looked up and broke into smiles of appreciation.

“How pretty you are, my dear,” Uncle Dean said, coming to embrace her. “Oh, I remember the days of my youth and how exciting it was to see the young ladies all dressed up. The gentlemen tonight will no doubt lose their hearts at first sight.”

“Well, I don’t need them doing that,” Connie said, glancing admiringly at Tom in his black suit. “Speaking of cleaning up nice, just look at you.”

He laughed. “I was about to compliment you, but if you insist on poking fun at me, I’ll take back all the nice things I intended to say.”

“Suit yourself. I wasn’t poking fun. You look quite dashing. Someone will be blessed to get you as a husband one day.”

She saw the way Tom sobered before he turned away. “I was just telling your uncle how grateful I am for the lower temperature today. I fretted all week about how awful it was going to be to wear this suit, but since the temperature eased, it doesn’t seem so bad.”

“I thought the same thing.” Connie rose up on tiptoe and kissed her uncle. “We’d best be off. I wouldn’t want Sallyanne to think something happened to us.”

Her uncle followed them outside. “I am glad you’re all going together.”

“We make quite the consortium,” Tom said. “Discussing everything from war battles to fashion.”

She laughed. “Not to mention ancient artifacts and cultural studies. Thanks again for letting us borrow the carriage.”

Her uncle merely waved, as if it meant nothing at all.

The carriage and driver were ready and waiting at the curb as Tom and Connie emerged. Tom helped Connie up, then climbed in after her. As she settled into the soft leather seat, she thought of the things she’d miss about the capital city. The hubbub was sometimes quite exciting. There was something about the middle of the day downtown, with all the hustle and bustle, that energized her. She’d miss that for certain.

Tom took the seat opposite her and instructed the driver to head down the street to the Van Buren house. “You look reflective. You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?” he asked her.

“Just trying to keep in mind all that I will miss when we go away.”

“Like being the belle of the ball to a captive audience of men?”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

“What? It’s all true. You are the belle of most balls. Men are quickly drawn to your side. They especially like the fact that you aren’t seeking a husband, like the others.”

Connie frowned. “Why do you say that? I’ve never said such a thing.”

“Perhaps not with words,” Tom replied. “But your actions most assuredly do. Why do you think you’re so popular among all the men, young and old?”

“I thought it was my great beauty,” she replied, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Tom chuckled. “Well, of course that has a lot to do with it, but it’s also your attitude. Most women your age and older are desperately searching for a husband. That makes men uncomfortable. When they walk into a room of women, they immediately feel as though they are prey amongst predators—led to the slaughter by beautiful executioners in Worth gowns.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Connie shook her head. “Men are the ones who seek a mate. Women always have the feeling of being stalked like a prized turkey.”

“You might be surprised to know that most women enjoy that sensation. They want very much to be pursued. That’s why they dress in elaborate outfits. They fancy up their hair and lower their necklines.”

Connie looked away, feeling her cheeks redden. It was embarrassing to think that Tom noticed such things.

The driver pulled to a stop along the curb, and Tom gave a heavy sigh. “I’ll fetch Sallyanne. I’m sure her hair will be a great deal fussier and her neckline much lower than yours.”

After a few minutes, Tom and Sallyanne finally emerged. Another young woman followed them. Connie tried to place the young lady but wasn’t successful.

“Oh, Connie dear. I’m so happy to see you. It’s been ages and ages since we had a nice long talk,” Sallyanne declared as Tom assisted her into the carriage. “This is my cousin April. I invited her to come with us. My folks will join us later at the ball.”

Sallyanne was resplendent in lavender tulle and taffeta. And just as Tom had suspected, her gown was cut quite low, as was the fashion. Connie thought back to what Tom had said about women being beautiful executioners in Worth gowns.

April was next to climb aboard, taking her place beside Sallyanne. She was a delicate-looking young lady gowned in a bustled fashion that looked much too mature for her age. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen, which was soon confirmed by Sallyanne.

“This is April’s first big outing since her debut last month in New York. Isn’t she pretty?”

“Quite. You’re both beautiful. April, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Constance Browning, but everyone calls me Connie.”

The younger woman gave a meek smile. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Sallyanne, that gown is quite, um, fashionable.”

“It’s my new Worth gown,” she said, beaming. “I believe it will capture the attention of every man there. Mama says I should be far more aggressive at seeking a husband. I am almost twenty, after all.”

Connie saw Tom’s eyebrow raise in his I told you so expression. She nearly burst out laughing.

“It definitely suits you, Sallyanne.”

Tom jumped up and took the remaining space beside Connie. He smelled of heady spiced cologne. Connie smiled. It reminded her of her uncle Dean’s choice of scents. Perhaps Tom had even asked for her uncle’s suggestion.

By the time they reached the party, Sallyanne had divulged all the household secrets, shared gossip about the neighborhood, and mentioned several new hats that she’d ordered. April answered a few of Connie’s questions about New York, and then Connie shared their plans for Oregon, which shocked both Sallyanne and April’s delicate sensibilities.

When they reached their destination, Tom helped April and Sallyanne from the carriage. Sallyanne waved to friends and dragged April off to meet them. Tom swung back around and helped Connie just before her slippered foot touched the carriage step.

“Are you ready to concede I was right about the husband hunting?” he asked, grinning.

“Well, I knew about the husband hunting. I just didn’t know that it made men nervous. That’s an entirely different side of things that I never considered.”

“Men aren’t always looking to marry, you know.”

“Oh, I do.” She took hold of Tom’s offered arm. “That’s why we get along so well. You aren’t looking for a wife, and I’m not looking for a husband. It makes us the perfect team.”

She parted company with Tom shortly after they were announced to the partygoers. Connie found herself gravitating toward the older ladies, while Tom found a gathering of older men. From time to time they each danced with a variety of partners.

The dancing went on until nine o’clock, when a cold supper was furnished along with copious amounts of champagne. Connie, having never been a drinker, declined every offered flute of sparkling drink and sought instead to enjoy the iced lemonade. At supper, she joined a conversation with several senators’ wives when she’d have preferred to talk politics with their husbands. The ladies, in contrast, discussed ill children, new draperies, and the complications of finding and keeping good staff.

Connie was bored nearly to the point of falling asleep when the orchestra began to play again, and the dancing started back up. Since Sallyanne’s father and mother had arrived, Connie felt free to call it an evening, but Tom seemed particularly engrossed in conversation with one of the congressmen in attendance.

Mr. Berryton approached and gave her an abbreviated bow. “Would you do me the honor, Miss Browning, of the next dance?”

Desperate to be away from the women without causing offense, Connie nodded. Mr. Berryton led her to the dance floor, and they were soon waltzing with the others.

“I hope you aren’t sorry for your new position. Now that you can see what you’ll be missing, I feared you might want to change your mind,” he said, watching her as though he might be called upon to dry her tears.

“Not at all, Mr. Berryton. I’m quite delighted with my decision and your hiring me. I can hardly wait to head home.”

“I suppose the fact that it is home makes all the difference.” He moved her gracefully around the room, much to her surprise. If there was one thing men were required to do in Washington, it was dance, and Mr. Berryton had not disappointed.

When the waltz concluded, he led her back to where he had found her. “I’m glad you don’t regret your decision. I would be hard-pressed to fight against a woman’s tears should you have come to me begging off.”

“I honor my commitments, Mr. Berryton, so you needn’t fear. I have been gathering my city clothes and am prepared to pack them away or sell them for more appropriate fashions. I have secured my books and other niceties to leave with my aunt and uncle until I might send for them. All in all, I am nearly ready to step onto the train that will take me to Oregon.”

“Very good.” He seemed relieved and used the handkerchief he’d held against her back as they danced to dab at his lips. “I hope you continue to enjoy the evening. I’d best go in search of Mrs. Berryton.”

“Good night, then, and thank you once again for giving me a chance.”

He gave another abbreviated bow and departed while Connie searched the room for Tom.

“Miss Browning,” a voice said behind her. Connie turned to find Mr. Lynden, a particularly hopeful would-be suitor. “I wondered if I might have this dance.”

She saw they were forming up for the Virginia reel. “Of course, Mr. Lynden.” Hopefully, with the moves of the dance, she wouldn’t have to spend much time in conversation.

“I heard a horrible rumor,” he said, leading her to the dance floor.

“Oh, really? Pray, what did you hear?”

“That you’re leaving Washington and going to live with the Indians.” He looked completely aghast.

“That’s no rumor, Mr. Lynden. I am leaving Washington to take on my duties for the Bureau of Ethnology. American politicians and intellectuals have decided that it is important to catalog and maintain an accurate history of the various Native tribes of this great country. You do realize, don’t you, that many tribes are already extinct?”

“I didn’t.” He paused as if considering this fact. “However, that’s no place for a delicate young woman such as yourself. I can hardly approve.”

She might have laughed out loud had there not been so many other people in the room. The music began, and she curtseyed while Lynden bowed. They didn’t continue the conversation until the dance concluded, and by then Connie was more than ready to go home. She gave a quick glance around the room, but there was no sign of Tom.

“Miss Browning, surely you understand the dangers involved in dealing with Indians. It’s said that they not only scalp white settlers when given the chance, but that they do other . . . distasteful things. You really shouldn’t go. It’s not at all appropriate.”

Connie gave him a fixed look and fought to hold her temper. “Mr. Lynden, I would be going there whether I had a job or not. My parents live there. I grew up on a reservation, and I assure you that no one was scalped or given to eating human flesh or dissecting bodies to keep the dead from entering the spirit world.” She saw him blanch and smiled. “Yes, I’ve heard all the horrible rumors. My suggestion is that you should come experience the reservation rather than cast judgment on it and the people there.”

She left him looking as if he might lose his supper. It was more than a little annoying that people were so prejudiced in their thinking. She knew her circle of girlfriends was no different. No one understood her desire to return to the reservation and renew friendships with the Native people. It was one thing, they had said, to be a child befriending another child, but for an adult woman to carry on with the Indians . . . well, it defied understanding.

Then let me defy it.