Mrs. Grant and Madame Jule (5 page)

One spring day Ulys wrote to Julia using a captured Mexican drum as a desk. When she read his matter-of-fact acknowledgment that a shell had nearly claimed his life a few hours before, Julia felt faint, almost too ill to read on. “There is no great sport in having bullets flying about one in every direction,” Ulys told her, “but I find they have less horror when among them than in anticipation.” He wrote often of his longing for peace, and Julia replied to tell him how much she wished they had married before he had left for Mexico. “I would willingly share your tent,” she declared, “or your prison, should you be taken prisoner.”

Then came the Battle of Molino del Rey and the terse, dreadful report that Frederick had been wounded.

Terribly afraid, the Dent family frantically sought news of his condition, but it was not until three days later that Ulys’s reassuring letter arrived, written only hours after the fight. Frederick had been struck in the thigh by a musket ball as he charged an enemy gun, but Ulys had been nearby to tend his wounds, and he was expected to recover completely. Ulys was so incapable of boasting of himself that they learned not from him but from Frederick and cousin James that Ulys had almost certainly saved Frederick from bleeding to death. Afterward, Frederick and Ulys were both promoted to brevet captain—and Papa suddenly found himself unable to disparage Ulys with the same enthusiasm as before.

Ulys’s letters began to speak more confidently of an end to the war, and finally, in February 1848, commissioners from both countries signed a treaty of peace. But still Ulys could not come home. “It is scarcely supportable for me to be separated from you so long my Dearest Julia,” Ulys wrote.

At long last his regiment left Mexico for New Orleans, and finally Ulys was granted a leave of absence. A week later he arrived in St. Louis, swept Julia into his arms, kissed her, and declared that they must be married at once. “Will your father raise any objection?”

“No, certainly not.” She had not seen her darling Ulys in more than three years, and she was breathless with joy and astonishment and something akin to shyness. The tall, strong, weathered captain who had come to marry her was both a stranger and her most beloved. And yet he was the same man, tested and tempered but still her own Ulys. “Papa left all that behind after you saved Frederick’s life.”

Ulys kissed her swiftly, fully on the mouth. “You can’t possibly know how happy you make me,” he declared. “First I have to go home to Ohio, but I can be back by the fifteenth or twentieth of August.”

“You’re going away again?”

“Not for long.” He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips. “I want to see my parents and invite my family to the wedding. I’d like them to be with us on the day you make me the happiest man in the world.”

•   •   •

Although Julia insisted upon a modest, simple wedding at home, she still needed the help of the women who loved her best—Mamma, her sisters, her cousins, aunts, and friends, and of course dear, indispensable Jule—to finish the final preparations. Bridesmaids and groom’s attendants were swiftly alerted, invitations delivered, musicians engaged, flowers purchased, menus reviewed, marketing done. Jule’s deft fingers fairly flew as she sewed the last garments and linens for her mistress’s trousseau. Julia had decided, given the season and the need to economize, to wear an India mull muslin much like the one her mother had worn on her own wedding day thirty years before.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t like something fancier?” asked Mamma. “Your bridesmaids will have lovely new gowns. Shouldn’t you have one too?”

“My gown will be new,” Julia said cheerfully. “It isn’t silk, but what of that? Ulys won’t know the difference.”

Before her mother and sisters could protest that she ought to be married in something finer, a servant came to announce a caller. They hurried downstairs to the drawing room to greet Papa’s cousin, the lovely Mrs. O’Fallon. Her footman accompanied her, carrying a large white box.

“Am I too late?” she asked, gesturing for the footman to set the box upon the table. “Have you chosen your wedding dress yet?”

“Not yet,” said Julia, exchanging a glance with Nell. “Not quite.”

“I’m so glad.” Mrs. O’Fallon’s lovely features were rendered even more so by her joyful, affectionate smile. “I’ve brought you one, my dear, and I hope you’ll accept it with as much pleasure as I have in bringing it to you.”

Julia lifted the lid and withdrew from the box the most beautiful dress she had ever beheld, a magnificent, rich, soft, white watered silk with cascades of lace. “It’s lovely,” she exclaimed, holding it up so all could see, and then pressing it close to herself, imagining the fit. “I never thought to be married in such a beautiful gown. How on earth shall I ever thank you?”

“By wearing it, of course,” Mrs. O’Fallon said, and they all laughed together before Mamma urged Julia upstairs to try it on. She happily obeyed, knowing that it was certain to fit, for Mrs. O’Fallon knew her measurements and employed an exceptionally skilled dressmaker.

“Jule,” she called on her way to her bedchamber, wondering where her maid had gone. “Jule, come quickly.”

Julia had draped the gown across her bed and was standing back to admire it when Jule appeared, breathless, smoothing her apron. “Yes, Miss Julia?”

“Dear Mrs. O’Fallon brought me the loveliest dress for my wedding,” she exclaimed, reaching behind her back to unfasten her buttons. Jule promptly closed the door and hurried over to assist, swiftly undoing the buttons from neckline to waist. She helped Julia out of her dress and into the beautiful gown, which fit as perfectly as a dream, the soft silk whispering upon her skin as she turned in front of the looking glass.

“I never seen such a fine dress,” Jule said, her voice strangely subdued. “You’ll be the prettiest bride in St. Louis.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.” Frowning thoughtfully as she studied Julia’s reflection in the mirror, Jule touched her hair, holding it back one way and then another, eventually nodding in approval. “Something fancier than your usual chignon would be best, with jasmine here and here, and some nice long curls on the sides.”

“Whatever you think is best.” Julia had learned to trust her maid’s judgment in matters of her toilet, especially regarding her hair, her one beauty. “Oh, Jule, I don’t know how I’ll manage without you.”

“You got by without me fine when you were at school, and your wedding trip shorter than that,” Jule reminded her. “Your hostesses likely have maids to help you, and when they don’t, you’ll get by.”

“I mean
after
the wedding trip.” Julia steeled herself, knowing she had put off this conversation far too long. “Now that the war’s over, the Fourth Infantry has been reassigned to the northern frontier. I’ll be going with Ulys to the headquarters in Detroit, on the Great Lakes, and—well, there really isn’t any place for servants there, in the North.”

“I see.” Jule’s eyebrows drew together and a deep crease of worry appeared between them. “What about me? Where do I go?”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Julia quickly assured her, whirling about to face her, to take her hand. “You’ll stay with the family and look after Nell and Emma. We would never send you away.”

“How long you gonna be away?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A year or two, perhaps more.” When Jule looked no more reassured than before, Julia added, “If Ulys is assigned to Jefferson Barracks again, or to another place where I can keep a servant, I’ll send for you. I promise.”

“I ain’t going with you.” Jule’s voice was faint, her expression inscrutable. “All this time, I just figured I would be.”

Julia did not know what to say. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but it’s simply impossible.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Julia. I do understand that.” Jule took a deep breath and mustered a faint smile. “I think the ladies must be wondering what became of you. They’re gonna think I forgot how to dress you.”

“Never,” declared Julia, relieved that her maid’s good humor was apparently restored. She hurried off to the parlor, where the gown met with approval all around. Mrs. O’Fallon had also brought Julia a veil of white tulle with lovely fringe, which seemed to float about her head when Mrs. O’Fallon put it on her, enveloping her in its delicate folds. For the first time in her long engagement, Julia truly felt like a bride.

She was happier than she had ever been, she thought later as Jule undressed her and put the gown carefully away. No power on earth could diminish her joy now that she and Ulys were to be united in love at last.

•   •   •

Ulys soon returned from Ohio, but even as Julia ran outside to greet him and took his arm to lead him into the foyer, she knew something was wrong. “Why are your parents not with you?” she asked. “Are they resting at the Planters House?”

“They’re at home,” said Ulys. “They aren’t coming to the wedding.”

“Oh, how unfortunate,” said Julia. “I was looking forward to meeting them. I hope they aren’t unwell.”

“No, they’re all in perfect health.” He held her out at arm’s length to admire her, but his smile seemed forced. “You’ll meet them on our wedding trip instead, and when they get to know you, they’ll love you as much as I do.”

Something in his tone made her wary. “You say that as if they’re predisposed
not
to love me, knowing me only through your stories.”

“I’ve said only good things about you,” said Ulys. “I have only good things to say.”

“What is it, then?” When Ulys shook his head, she added, “Please tell me. Does your family object to our marriage?” She had been so preoccupied with Papa’s objections to the match that it had never occurred to her to wonder how Mr. and Mrs. Grant felt.

“You know I come from abolitionist people.”

“You’re something of an abolitionist yourself, but I don’t hold that against you.”

“They’re deeply unhappy that I’m marrying into a slaveholding family,” Ulys admitted. “They say they can’t come to the wedding. Their consciences won’t permit them to enjoy any fruits of slave labor, and they won’t allow their presence here to give tacit approval to an institution they abhor.”

“Oh.” Suddenly light-headed, Julia sank into a chair. “I see.”

“It isn’t you they reject, Julia, but slavery. They can’t abide it.”

“Of course. I understand.” She felt tears gathering but forced them back. “I certainly wouldn’t want them to disregard their consciences.”

Ulys knelt beside her chair and took her hands in his. “In time they’ll grow fond of you. I know they will. They won’t be able to help it.”

“You know them best,” she said. “If you think I can win their affection, then I’ll certainly try.”

•   •   •

Candles lit the way as Julia descended the staircase on the sultry August night she married Ulysses.

She knew he waited for her in the parlor, her cousin James Longstreet standing beside him as his best man, the rest of the bridal party gathered nearby. The thunderstorms of late afternoon had rumbled and flashed furiously before moving on to the east, leaving heavy rains in their wake, the fat drops pattering on the roof like the beating of drums. The foyer smelled of the wet shawls and wraps hanging to dry in the closet beneath the stairs, and soon Julia glimpsed the friends and loved ones who had worn them—young ladies in elegant gowns, handsome officers in dress uniform, dowagers smiling and blinking away tears, beloved family who had known her all her life, all crowded into the drawing room, full of anticipation, standing witness, making Julia’s happiness complete, or nearly so.

Earlier that morning Ulys had earned himself a scolding from Mamma, Nell, and Mrs. O’Fallon by calling on Julia, for it was bad luck for the groom to glimpse his bride before the ceremony. Laughing off their teasing warnings, Julia agreed to see Ulys, albeit briefly, only long enough to exchange a few heartfelt words of love and to accept his wedding gift, a chased gold locket worn by a narrow velvet strap from the wrist. Inside was a daguerreotype of the face she most loved to see, her own darling Ulysses, his thoughtful eyes and stubborn mouth. “I will wear this every day of my life,” she vowed, and then she hurried off without kissing him, for she had already tempted fate enough.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck eight o’clock as Papa offered Julia his arm and escorted her into the drawing room, his face stoic as he placed her hand in Ulys’s. Mr. and Mrs. Grant’s refusal to attend the wedding had bolstered his own objections to the match, but the previous night, after reminding Julia that even at that late hour she could still change her mind, he sighed in resignation and announced his wedding gift—sixty acres of uncleared land about a mile north of White Haven, with the promise of one thousand dollars to stock it. “Now when that soldier tires of dragging you from post to post,” Papa had told her gruffly, “you’ll have land of your own not far from home to settle on.”

Reverend Linn conducted the ceremony, which was mercifully brief, but Julia did not become tearful until she spoke her vows and heard Papa clear his throat, overcome with emotion. Then Ulys kissed her, and the minister pronounced them married, and all at once they were surrounded by well-wishers, caught up in embraces and basking in the joy of the smiling, happy throng.

The rain had subsided and the windows were thrown open to welcome in the cool night air, but all passed as a blur of merriment to Julia—the congratulations and good wishes from all and sundry; the parlor table laden with ices, fruits, and other delicacies; the festive supper; the merry music; the laughter that broke out when two of her bridesmaids could not resist the inspiration to dance and waltzed together around the crowded drawing room.

It was a simple, happy, poignant wedding, and after the guests departed and even family bade them good night, the newlyweds stole away, hand in hand, to Julia’s bedchamber, which Nell and Emma had lovingly decorated with fragrant blossoms and twining ivy, transforming the room into a romantic nuptial bower.

“You are as lovely to me as you were that day four years ago when I first glimpsed you on the porch at White Haven,” Ulys murmured after Jule had helped Julia into her nightgown and had noiselessly departed. “You’ll always bloom forever young and beautiful in my eyes.”