The day after they buried Mother of Sorrows, Patrick received a letter from Emmeline. She had obviously not received his concerning Oxy. Her letter greatly revived him.
While there was a general restlessness on the plantation with the slaves openly saying ‘Lincoln is a comin’,’ her mother seemed to have found a new lease of life.
Mother rises at six and tends to all things as if a man. Why she even gave a whipping to one of the kitchen boys who had overstepped his position.
Father is expected soon. The Picayune reports regularly of his gallantry and dash. Always at the head of his troops – not like some other rear-guard generals.
Patrick read on.
We have not received direct news from Lamarr and Lovelace for some time, but likewise believe them to be gallant in the saddle. Life here is incomplete without them. Sisters do miss loving brothers. And what of you, dearest Patrick … and the gallant Mr Joyce and Mr Moran? Every day, I am walking to my trees watching for the first green bud to sprout, knowing that soon the blossoms must come … and you with them.
Daily too, I pray to the Lord who watches over all, to watch over you during this great unpleasantness.
Your ever-faithful and ever-waiting
Emmy
P.S. My glove, with its heart … is it yet unstained?
Three days later Patrick received another letter, edged in black. Recognising the handwriting, he unceremoniously tore it open.
Le Petit Versailles
Confederate State of Louisiana
25th June 1862
My dear Mr O’Malley,
I have the most terrible of news to bring you. I could not bear to send it earlier. My dearest, dearest Lamarr and my lovely Lovelace have been borne home as corpses.
It is too much.
Father, wounded though not sorely, accompanied the remains. Oh, it grieves me to say the word ‘remains’ after all they have been to me. Everything loving brothers could be. Showering their sister with sweet, sweet kisses. Nor did they, ever once, neglect their duty when vexatious times crossed our paths. Only caresses to a dear sister’s forehead. It greatly wounded Mother, her baby boys taken on the tide of battle. Father said they were to the fore of every charge and died gloriously for the South and their sisters’ honour.
There were two carriages with six plumed horses. To the front of each a brother’s horse, riderless now with only dear Lamarr’s and Lovelace’s boots in the stirrups. But reversed as is the custom. Mother was magnificent despite her mourning weeds – a steadfast support to Father, who held his bearing throughout. The slaves set up a great wailing of grief that ‘the young massas be comin’ home no mo’!’
I cannot imagine how life will be now, without their daring – and the expeditions we undertook with them. I know that you and Captain Joyce and Mr Moran will be greatly, greatly grieved by this news. Two Yankee officers in the vicinity who also heard the news called to pay their kind respects to Mother. The slaves were greatly excited upon seeing them. Gentlemen both, they conducted themselves with all decorum in the presence of ladies. They begged permission to call again at a more convenient time and Mother assented.
I pray for you, dear Mr O’Malley, that the Lord may shield you in battle.
My mind is a blank and I cannot write further. I hope my letter has not left you too distraught.
As Ever,
Yours,
Emmy
He replied immediately, wishing he could be with her to offer even the smallest of consolations. For her to be the subject of two such losses was beyond all that he could imagine. He bore the news with heavy grief – such good comrades, such gallant soldiers, such brothers to loved sisters. That they died so gloriously in such a just cause, Patrick wrote, would, he hoped, be a comfort to their mother.
The clocks would now be stopped in the great house, the rooms draped in lavender, the mirrors in black to ward off evil spirits. Twin curls of hair – one turned east, one west – Patrick remembered, would be taken from Lovelace and Lamarr, framed forever in grieving oak.
Le Petit Versailles would be one giant mausoleum.