Chapter 3: The Debutante and The Dandy

Miss Mabel, meanwhile, completed her schooling and was confirmed at church. Gentlemen in the billiards room referred to her as homely and plain, but she was assumed to be given a healthy dowry to entice suitors once she was out in society. She was never nominated as the May Queen during the academy’s May Day celebrations. I invited her family and my other church friends to a picnic on our lawn along the creek. None of us could write, so Sarah wrote out the invitations for us for a jar of honey. I included Mabel’s friend Mary Ellen Redfield and her family on the invitation list so they wouldn’t be the only wealthy family present (Mama insisted on that). Mr. Redfield was a cotton planter who lived near us. Mrs. Redfield bought flaxseed oil and beeswax candles from Mama. We purchased cotton yarn from their spinning house. I heard from Mama that Mrs. Redfield was delighted to receive the invitation to our picnic. During a social call, Mary Ellen at first resisted a picnic with a poor family, but her mama reprimanded her for her snobbery to assure her that we would be providing proper entertainment. We flew kites in the spring wind and had a good luncheon of cold meats, cheese, stuffed cabbage, pumpernickel bread, and raspberry tarts. For a drink, we had a jug of strawberry wine to pour into tin cups.

We played graces, gave rides on the scow, played horseshoes, and played a game of bowling next to the barn. Miss Mabel announced that she would be joining the church choir and playing the organ at services. Mary Ellen enjoyed herself and declared to feel guilty about taking food from us. Mama replied that we were poor, not destitute. Then everyone went home, and we picked up the picnic blankets from the lawn. We received handwritten letters from Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Redfield that we could not read, and I asked Sarah to read them to us. She said they thanked us for the delightful picnic. I was glad to see Mabel every Sunday and heard gossip from Mama when she returned from quilting bees. One blanket that the church ladies made was given to us. Mama placed it on their bed. I enjoyed Mabel’s company during church socials in the summer. She adored Mama’s molasses cake at the church picnic and asked for the recipe. Mabel hosted a garden party when the roses were in full bloom. She invited two of my sisters, and they came home with blueberry scones from the party. We went to a play in Smithfield, and Mabel was there with her family. I told her a cousin of mine was in the play. They sat towards the front, and we were a couple of rows behind them. I danced with her during the 4th of July and the harvest barn dances. Thanksgiving and Christmas were joyous. We ate geese that my papa and I shot while hunting. For Christmas gifts, I made a peg solitaire game out of wood that everyone in the family took turns playing. I also whittled toy soldiers and wooden animal figures for my siblings to play with. I knitted new washcloths for Mama from cotton yarn I purchased. I also knitted a pair of socks for Papa. My siblings played angels and shepherds in the Nativity Play. I won a few games of poque and came home with six dollars.

The elder Mrs. Thompson died the following winter, after the New Year, and her father moved the family into his father’s house, Wiltshire Manor, to help care of the plantation. The old house, Plum Manor, was prepared for John Thompson to dwell in once he returned with his law license. While in mourning, they did not attend social functions and only came by when the rent was due or brought charity baskets of food. Once Mabel reached the age of fifteen in the spring, it was announced that she would be presented to polite society at a coming-out ball, ready to at last enter society as an eligible young lady. Mrs. Thompson assumed full charge of her preparation for the marriage state, shaping her into the image of a proper planter’s wife. Mabel read widely, learned to balance house accounts and stay in budget, practiced music in the parlor, painted delicate watercolors, and stitched her own morning gowns. She gave me a few paintings of her garden. Most important was hosting parties to create proper guest lists. If there was dancing, an equal number of men and women had to be present, so nobody was left without a partner. Her instructions included being considerate if she invited poor white trash or the overseer’s family to a party. White trash people don’t have the proper evening clothing that wealthy planters possess for balls and supper parties. In addition, a poor white trash person bringing a gift to a birthday party would be a burden to them when they have so little. It was horribly rude to embarrass any of her guests by being inconsiderate of their situation. Daytime parties where white trash Sunday clothing was appropriate could be acceptable. I began to understand the line drawn between the rich and the poor that Mama spoke about.

One spring day, I was caught in a thunderstorm while transporting chickens from a farmer I had purchased for Mama in my wagon. I stopped by as the lightning flashed and thunder shook the ground. Mama had a brother who was struck by lightning and found with a sack of corn scattered on the ground. She lectured us on finding shelter when thunder starts rumbling. I was soaking wet when I knocked on the door. Mrs. Thompson was gracious, letting me stay until the storm passed. They gave me some of Mr. Thompson’s clothing, as mine dried by the fire in the kitchen. My wagon was placed in the carriage house. I stayed for supper to enjoy roast beef with carrots and potatoes. I enjoyed a piece of cherry pie in the parlor with coffee. Then the men took cigars and brandy in the study. Mabel played the harp for her mother. When we came out of the study, we joined the ladies to play the card game whist. It was still raining as the night wore on, so I spent the night in the guest room downstairs. The bed was soft with a Spanish moss-stuffed mattress, and feather-stuffed pillows were embroidered with flowers. It was a lot more comfortable than sleeping with two siblings on a straw mattress. Breakfast was in the dining room, and I enjoyed fishcakes, fried eggs, toast, and sausages. I noticed they used a percolator to make their coffee. My clothes, dried and ironed, were ready for me when I woke up. I bid them farewell and headed home. Mama was happy with the chickens I selected. Mabel was measured for her coming-out ball gown before they left for Wilmington to visit an aunt. They continued to visit Jamaica and returned with many souvenirs. She entered the county fair and received a third-place ribbon for roses she had been tending and a first-place ribbon for tomatoes from their garden. Her coming-out ball gown was finished, and preparations were made for her ball. In the autumn, cellars were inventoried for winter. Miss Mabel gave my sister Daisy two of her old calico gowns in charity. Daisy dyed and embroidered them to make them look new. She wore one to church, and Mabel failed to recognize it. As the grand ball approached, Mabel showed me her gown, since I would not be present. It was made of ivory silk and reached the top of her instep. She would also wear a veil with feathers. New slippers with ribbons were ordered to match. She told me she intended to dance until dawn. Mrs. Thompson made sure the ball was the most talked-about social event of the 1831 Coming Out Season before the Winter Social Season. In Great Britain, being presented at court happened in the spring before “The Season”. Here, in North Carolina, planters left during the spring and summer to travel to the coast, the Caribbean, or Europe, so few people would be around to attend to them at that time. This county held its Coming-Out Balls in November before the Winter Social Season, starting with Christmastide and ending by Lent.

In the 1830’s, fashion itself seemed to shift beneath her fingers, sleeves swelling into large soft puffs, printed fabrics appearing in the shops from new roller printing technology, and corkscrew curls and braided coils framing young faces. Men abandoned their old cutaway morning coats and frock coats for skirted frock coats for daywear, and tall hats flattened at the crown. Mama altered her sleeves on her church gown to add puffs of cotton under the sleeves according to the fashion. Her twice-turned home gown stayed plain and practical as ever. She often rolled her sleeves up to cook our daily meals. As I aged into a young man beginning to shave my face, many gossiped about whom I fancied to marry. It would have to be a lady who handles Mama well and is very kind to please me. But until my beloved Mabel was married and settled down into a family, I refused to propose to any girl, no matter how eager she was to dance with me or ride in our scow boat in the creeks. One girl I kissed got into trouble and accused me of being the father of her child. Mama was peeved and demanded to know if this was true. I confronted Anne Dowby in her mama’s parlor, stating I knew she would have to be heavily pregnant if she carried my child, and she claimed to have only recently become pregnant. I asserted this child was not mine and refused to marry her to hide her sin, lifting her skirts for my friends. Next Sunday, the gossip was accusing a friend of mine of being the father of her child. Nobody would marry her, and she was kicked out of her family’s home to go live with her widowed aunt as a companion. I saw her at the shops in Smithfield with the baby who had my friend Herbert Sheffield’s red hair and freckles.

Word spread of a Virginian slave revolt in August 1831 when the younger Mr. Thompson went to Halifax to do business at the State Bank, which closed a few years later. He took his valet and coachman with him as he rode in his coach fifty miles east to reach Halifax. He returned distraught; his servants were murdered in Halifax. He gave them passes to explore Halifax as he went to the State Bank to cash in his government bonds. As he walked back to the hotel, the militia was gathering to support the Virginia troops being sent to suppress a slave revolt. He asked townspeople in the street what was happening. A gentleman said a band of slaves were attacking plantations in Virginia, killing all the white people they saw, even women and children. There was fear they would reach the border of North Carolina any day. Horrified, he rushed back to his hotel to pack up to leave for home when his servants returned. His servants never returned. He asked the hotel owner for help searching for his servants. The owner helped him hitch up his coach and drove it around searching for them. He asked a policeman walking along the street if he had seen any Negroes walking around with passes. He replied that several Negroes had been murdered by militia and mobs around the city once word spread of the slave revolt, and the militia prepared to leave for Virginia the following day. Mr. Thompson was forced to visit the park where bodies of murdered Negroes were being dumped. He found his servants bloodied from being beaten to death. He placed them in his coach and drove them to the undertaker to have caskets built for them. He couldn’t sue for compensation for the loss of value of his slaves since the militia killed them.

The hotel owner offered to help escort the bodies back to his home in his wagon. He searched their pockets and found the passes he had written for them. The next day, he withdrew more money from the State Bank to pay the hotel owner for his wagon use and the undertaker for the caskets. He came home to hear news of slaves and Free Negroes being killed by militias around the county, situated on the southern border of Virginia, even though the militias suppressed the revolt, and the North Carolina militias returned home. It was said that many Negroes in Virginia who were suspected of supporting the revolt were beheaded by the militia and their heads placed on pikes along a road. The plantation overseers had to patrol the fields to keep mobs with militias from attacking the slaves for two weeks. John Thompson wrote from Raleigh that mobs with militias were walking the streets to murder any Negro they came across. His host kept the slaves from leaving the house until it was safe. Mabel and other white women were terrified to stop paying social calls and stopped giving charity baskets. My family carried our rifles and shotguns with us around our farm and even to town. After ten weeks, the leader of the revolt, Nat Turner, was captured. New laws were enacted to cease the rights of Free Negroes, prohibiting education, trials by jury, and requiring a white person to be present during any religious meeting of Negroes, so the elder Mr. Thompson had to attend all services at the slave prayer house. In 1826, the state enacted a law forcing newly emancipated slaves to leave the state after ninety days or become enslaved again. Outside Free Negroes were not allowed into the state out of fear of inciting revolts. Nat Turner’s trial was the talk of the town when Mabel had her Coming-Out Ball.

Yet Mabel’s mind reached beyond the ornamental planter’s wife that her parents raised her to be. She sought ways to earn her own income by tatting lace for a Smithfield dressmaker, submitting poems to newspapers and magazines, even composing songs she had printed at her own expense and sold through the dry goods store. She asked her father’s permission to work as a governess or teacher at the Hollingsworth Academy for Girls, but he refused her kindly, reminding her that marriage lay ahead and that her labors would soon be unnecessary. Unlike my elder sisters living in rental houses, Mabel’s family did not need her to earn income. At best, she could be a companion for a lady, but her father refused to allow her to do that either. Her friend Agnes Smith, regarded as a homely lady with pockmarks on her face and two years older, failed to attract suitors and did not wish to burden her family as a spinster. She was granted a teaching position at the girls' academy, teaching etiquette and dancing. I wondered if I was a bad influence on Mabel, explaining the incomes of my sisters and mama. She was ultimately allowed to teach music lessons in the parlor and French lessons in the library to neighboring children. I joined my parents performing at the inn by playing the piano or guitar twice a week. I became better at poque, now spelled as poker, at the Smithfield saloons, and the fair Rose tossed a mother-of-pearl ring into the pot, trying to beat me. She lost in more than one way. I gave the ring to my mama for Christmas and never told her where it really came from. I said I bought it at the jeweler in Smithfield. I made some money at the billiards room and entered a tournament. I failed to win the top prize, but I did receive a pocket watch for winning fourth place. I gave it to Papa for Christmas. At night, he set it on the mantel.

Mabel was presented to society at fifteen at a grand coming-out ball in Wiltshire Manor, beneath the crystal chandeliers of her grandfather’s ballroom. Mrs. Thompson spared no expense in the preparations. The Smithfield Town Orchestra played for the ball that evening with violins, guitar, horns, and a grand piano filling the ballroom with music. My brother-in-law joined the musicians with his fiddle. He told me about fair Mabel’s dance partners and her gazing at herself in the mirrors. Mabel was admired by all and spoken of as a refined young lady soon to be courted. I watched from the edges of society, my heart heavy with feelings I had no right to claim. I had grown to care for her in ways I dared not share, and the thought of her wed to some planter’s son—one who would value her only for her dowry, parading her in satin gowns and expensive jewels before his friends while dulling the brightness of her spirit—filled me with quiet dread. Many gentlemen at the saloon playing poker referred to her as clever and witty, which meant ugly. She actually read magazines from Raleigh and local newspapers to speak eloquently of politics and be knowledgeable of local events, like a flood in the next county to the east from a hurricane blowing in from the coast. Men naturally wish for a silly wife who is not cleverer than they are. Mr. Thompson prided himself on Mabel’s educated mind in the hopes of bringing her an educated husband. I thought she was beautiful like her mother, and cherished her conversation to object if she pretended not to understand me. I learned from Mama and my sisters that women often must dumb themselves down to obtain a husband. Yet Mr. Thompson was an intimidating man, and as Mabel was his only daughter, many a reckless suitor thought better than to press his luck.

We watched carriages go by on the road to Mary Ellen Redfield’s Coming-Out Ball down the road. The ladies looked beautiful in ball gowns with floral or feathered headdresses. I viewed Mabel’s family go by in their carriage while sitting on the fence. I found myself holding my arm up in an awkward wave. Mr. Thompson tipped his hat in return, with the ladies holding their gloved hands up in a return motionless wave. During the social call, Mabel told me all about the ball. The ball gown fashions, the fans, the food, and the music. Mr. Redfield had the Lynnville Opera House Orchestra play. She danced several times and believed several men would someday ask her father to court her. I wished I could be one of those suitors, but Mr. Thompson would never allow a young man living in a saddle house with his family to court his precious daughter. Within the year, however, she was engaged to the son of a tobacco planter who loved to read books. The match was considered an excellent one since he was the elder son who would inherit the plantation. He was timid, and I never viewed him in saloons. Before the wedding could be arranged, the young man traveled with his family to the Caribbean Islands, where he fell ill with yellow fever and died. The news shattered Mabel like a rose struck down by a morning frost. Her grief was deep and unguarded. Mama baked a cherry pie, and I offered to deliver it to the Thompson house with our condolences. Mrs. Thompson was away calling on relatives, and the house felt hushed when I arrived, like silence after a storm. Mabel could not bring herself to meet me in the parlor, and the butler, seeing my sympathy, quietly led me upstairs to her mother’s sitting room.

She sat alone there, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on nothing at all. She still wore her engagement ring with her black mourning clothing. I relayed our condolences and told her of the pie left with the butler. He said he would serve it during supper. She lifted her eyes to me, her gaze hollow with sorrow, and something in me broke open. Unsure how else to comfort her, I offered to read from the Bible. My voice faltered as I searched the page because I had not opened the Good Book since my confirmation. By cruel chance, I turned to the passage where King David viewed his beloved Bathsheba in the moonlight and had her husband killed so he could marry her. Before I could stop, Mabel’s composure gave way. She wept freely then, her grief spilling over, and I offered my mama’s embroidered handkerchief into her trembling hands.

“I am sorry to upset you, Miss Thompson. I haven’t read the Bible for a long time. Please forgive me.” I quickly responded to the weeping into my handkerchief.

“It’s not you. I was waiting for Frederick’s return to receive my first kiss. I waited my whole life for my first kiss from a man.” she cried.

Without thinking, I placed my fingers under her chin and kissed her lips, closing my eyes with her tears streaming down her cheeks.

“There, you have been kissed by a man.” I whispered. “Next time, close your eyes.”

She froze in disbelief, then her forehead fell to my shoulder as I pulled away. Mrs. Thompson returned home to walk up the stairs as Mabel leaned against my shoulder, seeking comfort she could no longer deny herself. I embraced her in my arms, trying to hide my enjoyment from touching her. I smelt her lilac perfume. I assured her another suitor would come. Her mother paused in the doorway, taking in the sight with a softness that surprised me.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tilby,” she said at last.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson. I came by with a cherry pie to share our family’s condolences,” I replied.

“Yes, Homer informed me about it when I returned.” she said gently. “He intends to serve it at supper. Please thank your mama for her kindness.”

I explained that I had been reading the Bible to Mabel, and her grief burst out like a broken dam. Mrs. Thompson crossed the room at once and gathered her daughter close, whispering words of comfort. Mabel soon regained her composure and tried to return my handkerchief. I refused quietly, saying:

“You may keep it. I have others.”

I got up to leave, and Mabel stopped me to say a polite:

“Thank you.”

I left soon after and stopped at our church before going home. There, alone and kneeling at the altar rails, I prayed that if God saw fit, I might one day be allowed to marry Miss Mabel Thompson. I confessed my longing, my restraint, and my hope that I might at least remain her friend, as my mother was her mother’s friend. Because she was in mourning, few men came to court her that year. She wore black clothing and jewelry for three months and did not attend social gatherings. She wore half colors of purples and grays for another three months. In the summer, medicine shows came to Smithfield and performed in the opera house. Acrobats, dancers, musicians, and singers promoted the medicines of the “Apothecary”. I purchased a bottle, took a swig, and thought it tasted bitter; then it made my tongue numb. The bottle said, “Codeine Cough Syrup”. I told Mabel all about it during a social call. Once out of mourning, Mabel joined quilting bees, tea parties, and dancing supper parties again. She came with her mother’s charity food baskets. She started playing the church organ again, but was not ready to rejoin the choir. After a church service, she asked if I was planning to ask her to dance at the next church harvest barn dance.

“I could if it pleases you. I had not planned on whom I would ask to dance. After the scandal of Anne Dowby accusing me and my friends of being the father of her child, Mama insists I be more careful about who I take into my company.” I replied.

“I heard gossip from my brothers about men referring to Papa as intimidating and reluctant to ask him to court me,” she said.

“That is because he can spot an insulant rake who will break your heart the moment you marry him and his mistress,” answered Mrs. Thompson.

“Soldiers tend to intimidate the weak. You were courted and engaged to a good Christian man. You have your mama’s beauty and dowry from your papa. God will send another suitor in due time. I promise. I, on the other hand, will probably be caught in a shotgun wedding with a pregnant harlot and receive no dowry to live and die a poor man.” I reacted.

“I will pray your fortune changes. I have heard gossip that you have kissed every barmaid in Smithfield.” asserted Mabel.

“Yes, I am well-rehearsed in kissing the ladies who call me handsome and nearly fight each other to dance with me. I don’t wish to disappoint them, but I wonder if they want me or have a drink of Papa’s whiskey.” I replied to watch her blush, to wonder if she remembered my kiss.

“He needs to learn to say no to hussies eager to escape their white trash families.” Mama asserted. “I heard Anne Dowby ran away to her aunt’s house after her papa beat her with a switch for lifting her skirts around Smithfield. Her bastard son with red hair and freckles, resembling Nathan Danmore or his cousin Herbert Sheffield, is being raised by her widowed aunt while she began work as a saloon barmaid, smoking from a pipe, and gambling with men. I’m glad Mr. Tilby refused to believe that he was the father of her bastard. Such a disgrace to think I could have her in my house as my daughter-in-law.”

“Yes’m. I learned my lesson to be careful who I kiss under the moonlight.” I asserted.

“You are an incorrigible scamp, and dishonor will fall on this family. I pray for your soul.” said Mama.

“Mama! You shouldn’t say such things to our church friends.” I cried.

“Come, Miss Thompson. I must discuss the next choir practice with Mrs. Danmore.” finished Mrs. Thompson, and they walked toward other members socializing around the church.