I HAVE SUSPECTED this for some time, but now I am sure. I am expecting a child! Oh, I am half afraid and all excited. I have written to Mama and she has written back saying it is likely so and that we should find a good doctor. But I haven't told Rene yet.
A NEIGHBOR came to call today. Her name is Mrs. Snelling and she lives in the large Victorian two doors down. It is three colors and ours is only two. Rene calls her house the Painted Lady.
I invited her in and had Bridget serve us tea, but Mrs. Snelling made no bones about her visit.
It seems she belongs to the Ladies of the Flatbush Branch of the Needlework Guild of America, one of the many women's organizations a lady can join in this neighborhood. And she was angry because I went over everybody's head to organize the trip to the cemeteries on Decoration Day.
"You've scarce been here a few months," she chided me. "Many of the ladies are angry with you that you didn't consult them."
I told her there hadn't been time.
She harrumphed and said that was not true. So I asked what the Needlework Guild of America did with the things they made.
"They are for charity," she said.
I told her about the poor Irish children in Bridget's neighborhood, and how they must suffer in winter for lack of warm clothes. "There is a case of charity for you," I finished.
She harrumphed again. "What have they done to deserve it?" she asked.
I told her nothing. I told her they hadn't done a single thing. And just maybe they had done some things not to deserve it. But that they were still a good cause.
"Tell you what, missy," she said, "you come to one of our meetings and tell the Ladies of Flatbush why we should do this. You convince them, and we'll make those children a project."
I thanked her and said I would consider the matter.
I WAS GOING to tell Rene about the baby, because today is his birthday. But then a letter came from, of all people, his mother! I didn't even know he had a mother. He has made no mention of her this whole time. I thought she had died.
He read me the letter at breakfast. She is coming to visit, it says, within the next two months. And to meet Rene's new wife. She will let us know when her ship is likely to drop anchor.
Rene didn't look too happy about the whole thing, so I asked him about her, and why he didn't tell me about her. "She has a chateau in Aubigny," he said, "as well as a town house in Paris. My father is dead. He died when Adrian and I were boys, and she sent us off to be schooled by the Jesuits so she could continue on with her life on a high social level. There's nothing more to tell, Rose."
But apparently there was, which made him so sad. Her name, he said, is Charlotte, and he supposed we should give her the large corner bedroom upstairs. And did I mind if she came?
"Of course not," I told him. And then I told him that Adrian and Sara were coming for supper that night. And I gave him his pipe stand, which he liked so much.
And then I gave him the bigger present. I told him about the child.
RENE IS ECSTATIC about the child. He treats me as if I will break. And he doesn't want me to ride Tom Jones. The doctor says that as long as I have always ridden I can still ride, for a sensible amount of time and in a sensible manner.
So today we went on the trolley lines to the sand dunes at the end and enjoyed an afternoon there. We spoke of which room will belong to the baby and what its name will be. Rene said Louis, after his father, if it is a boy. And I said Marcella, after my maternal grandmother, if it is a girl. We agreed.
I have had no morning sickness, no queasiness at all. I feel in perfect health.
BECAUSE I FEEL so well, Rene has allowed me to ride Tom Jones up and down Dorchester Road at a leisurely pace. Oh, it is so good to go out on Tom Jones again. The smell of him, of the tack, the whole idea of riding again transports me back home, and if I close my eyes I am on the sand dunes at home again, where the tide comes in and out twice a day.
I met a few people I know on my ride and some I didn't know. One of those was an elderly man who was crossing Dorchester Road right in front of me. He fell, and I got down from Tom Jones to see if he was all right.
He said, "Thank you, missy. The old bones aren't what they used to be when I fought at Gettysburg."
He had a Southern accent!
I helped him onto the sidewalk, then took hold of Tom Jones's bridle and led them both to the man's house. He said his name was Mr. Cutler, and, yes, he'd fought at Gettysburg, on the side of the South.
He seemed rather sad, so I asked him if he was hurt. "Only my feelings," he said, "because my daughter won't allow me to go to see my family down South. Says we don't have the money, when I know we do. Oh, I shouldn't tell you my troubles, missy."
We talked a bit more, and then I saw him into the house.
WHAT A DAY! Today I went to speak to the Needlework Guild. It was an afternoon meeting held at Mrs. Snelling's house. When I arrived, she introduced me as the new neighbor, and quite a few of them called me "child." I feel that my Southern accent put off the rest of them, but for the most part they were polite.
At first they just had their business meeting. And when the president asked, "Any new business?" Mrs. Snelling got up and told them about me. How I was the one who organized the flower brigade on Decoration Day and, as if that weren't enough, I was now asking why they couldn't knit and make clothing for the Irish children who lived in the next neighborhood.
Then I got up there. Oh, so many faces, all staring at me. I couldn't work my voice at first, but then I thought of those children and what life would be like for them in the winter, and I forgot my own troubles and asked them to take my suggestion under consideration.
At first there was silence while they all stared at me. I heard one woman whisper to another, "How old is she? She looks like my Janey."
There were more whisperings. Then they started asking me questions. Personal and about the Irish children. They all knew by now that I was married to Rene Dumarest, and I know that brought me esteem. Several remarked on our house and the flowers.
Mrs. Snelling told me to sit down and have tea, that they would discuss the matter. And so I did. And before the afternoon was over, they said they would give me an answer in the near future.
Well, my part is over in all of this, I think. But they have made me feel so like a child begging for cookies, so unworthy of their consideration.
I HAVE FOUND out that besides this Needlework Guild there is a Ladies Book Club here on Dorchester Road, and Mrs. Snelling belongs to it, as well. Oh, I would love to belong to the book club. Imagine, reading books and discussing them with other women! I think I shall ask Mrs. Snelling if I may belong.
RENE IS HAVING the upstairs corner bedroom painted and repapered for his mother's visit. I picked out the paper. The room will be blue and white.