Mount Vernon Love Story Read online

  Then Nelly said, “Grandpapa, I thought that was a very fine toast at dinner last night.”

  Whenever George’s eyes rested on Nelly, they lost their habitual look of reserve and became affectionate. With a touch of amusement in his voice he said, “I rather thought you were too interested in the flattery of your dinner companion to hear any stuffy toasts.”

  Young Washington and Lafayette laughed and Nelly shook her head with a mock frown. “Now Grandpapa . . .”

  “I agree, sir,” Lafayette said. “I could not help wishing my father might have heard the words.” With a ring in his voice he repeated them: “‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last time I drink your health as a public man. I do it with sincerity and wishing you all possible happiness.’ It was very moving, sir.”

  “The British minister’s wife wept,” Nelly said.

  George pushed back his chair. “Then she weeps easily.” His tone was dry. “My dear . . .”

  Patsy rose with him. Together they went upstairs but, while she went in to rest, he went directly to his desk in the study. He and Lear would have to begin packing the papers and files immediately. He wanted to be out of this house and on the way. He groaned inwardly at the prospect of organizing his Presidential papers once he got home, to say nothing of the state to which his personal papers had been reduced. Even this important work had to be balanced with repairing the property. Much, much needed doing at Mount Vernon.

  But somehow the prospect of all the tasks was exhilarating. Lately, this last year especially, a new problem in government, a new squabble between the Congress or the cabinet, a new situation that was potentially explosive, brought a sense of weariness to him—an almost physical feeling of a burden on the shoulders. He had joked about having a pair of sixes on his shoulders on his last birthday, and the joke really explained the way he felt. He did indeed have the sensation of weights pressing him down.

  That feeling was sure to vanish soon. The papers stopped rustling in his hand. He wondered if the fence required whitening and indeed how much painting might be necessary. He would have many visitors; small hope that he’d be left in perfect retreat. He wanted to show off Mount Vernon properly when they came. It should be glistening and perfect—a well-rubbed jewel.

  George stood up and with characteristic neatness folded the papers in his hand and put them back in the drawer of the desk. He would take a short rest before the reception. A moment later, as he sat braced on the study chair while Christopher pulled off his boots, he was still making mental notes of minor repairs to Mount Vernon.

  Fortunately they’d be arriving in time to attend to any spring transplanting. He was anxious to see how the bowling green would look this spring. He felt that it greatly enhanced the approach to the mansion.

  Long ago he’d had all these plans for landscaping. Year by year he’d inaugurated them. Of course, he first tested them on Patsy. She had a discernment that made her able to envision an overall effect from a quick sketch or a description.

  The boots were off. George flexed his feet and leaned back, closing his eyes. Poor Patsy. How she’d needed her imagination when as a brash young officer he’d taken her from the tranquil beauty of the White House and brought her to the neglected plantation that was Mount Vernon . . .

  April, 1758

  2 P.M.

  The White House

  SEVERAL WEEKS PASSED FROM THAT DAY at the Chamberlayns’ until the afternoon he rode briskly up the tree-lined driveway to the lovely mansion that was the Custis plantation home.

  During those days he’d made great progress toward getting over his illness. He was still painfully careful about what he ate, but for the most part the distressing ailment had run its course. He’d regained a few pounds and his coat didn’t look as though it were hanging from a skeleton.

  He thought that perhaps the reason his spirits were so buoyant during those weeks was that he was in better health. But he also admitted that his meeting with Patsy Custis and his anticipation of seeing her again contributed to his well-being.

  A certain nervousness went hand in hand with that anticipation. When he reflected on that afternoon by the fire in the Chamberlayn study, he wondered if he and Mrs. Custis would recapture that quality of rapport and understanding, or had it been one of those rare meetings of spirit that are not easily duplicated?

  It was with a feeling of uncertainty at the outcome of his visit that he began the ride from Williamsburg to the plantation on the Rappahannock. Bishop accompanied him and when they reached the Custis property he clucked appreciatively at the well-kept fields. When they dismounted at the steps, a liveried servant was waiting to take the reins. “You must be Colonel Washington.” The man’s perfect teeth were revealed in a brilliant smile. “They sure is expecting you inside.”

  As George tossed him the reins, an upstairs window was thrown open and he could hear Jacky shouting, “He’s here! He’s here!”

  He started up the steps quickly. Whatever doubts he had had about this visit vanished.

  Patsy was standing at the doorway. She was wearing a simple blue gown that clung softly to her body. Her eyes were sparkling today and the gladness in her whole manner presented as hearty a welcome as her son’s loud cry.

  As he came to her, she reached both hands out and impulsively he lifted them to his lips. Her first words were a comment on his appearance. “Oh, Colonel Washington, you look quite recovered. I’m so glad.”

  Then as he walked into the foyer with her, Jacky came racing down. “I told you he’d come, Mother,” he announced triumphantly.

  Patsy blushed and George shook Jacky’s hand gravely.

  “It’s just that I didn’t want to see them disappointed,” Patsy explained. “I knew it was quite possible your plans might change.”

  So she too had wondered about that afternoon—wondered if he would change his mind about the visit. He addressed himself to Jacky. “Young man, you were quite right to be sure you could anticipate my call today. For one thing, I had to thank your mother for the diet she gave me. Thanks to her I’m quite well again.”

  The inside of her home was exactly what he’d expected. Clean and restful, smelling faintly of beeswax and fresh greens, stately mahogany polished till it shone with a fine patina. Warmth and comfort, elegance and good taste, an overall sense of harmony. He ruefully thought of the hodgepodge effect of the decor at Mount Vernon.

  As a special favor the children were allowed to dine with them. Jacky ate heartily and quickly although his table manners somehow managed to remain excellent. Little Patsy barely nibbled at the small amount of food on her plate and finally her mother took a spoon and began to feed her.

  “You will never be strong, dearest, if you don’t eat better.” The voice was lightly chiding but George realized that the little girl’s health always had her mother desperately worried.

  After dinner, little Patsy was put in for a nap and George and Patsy strolled through the grounds. Jacky accompanied them. One minute he was in back of them, then between them, then far ahead, then trailing behind.

  Patsy introduced George to her overseer. George sincerely congratulated the man on the splendid appearance of the entire plantation and quickly found himself in a discussion on the relative merits of several tobacco plants. He hesitated to comment when asked for an opinion, but the subject was of great interest to him and clearly the Custis overseer was an intelligent farmer. George and he were soon in deep discussion over the advisability of rotation of fields. Jacky began to fidget. Absentmindedly George reached out and put a restraining hand on the boy’s arm and was somewhat astonished to see that Jacky immediately quieted down. He did remember to preface his remarks with comments like “Of course, Mrs. Custis shall decide but this is how I would be governed in making a choice.”

  It was obvious that Mrs. Custis welcomed advice. Again he was struck by the realization that this was not a woman who enjoyed the freedom of making her own decisions.

  When he left that day, it was
with the understanding that he would come soon again. The new governor was due, and when His Excellency arrived in Williamsburg, he, George, would be expected to call on him.

  It was May before he returned. Williamsburg was in the height of the social season but Patsy assured him that she had been out little, nor had she had many guests. It was obvious to him that she had left her time free to be sure not to miss his visit.

  The thought of her willingness to adjust her own plans to his was both pleasant and disturbing. He would be going back to the front, and might be gone a long time. Should he address himself to Patsy? That visit was a troubled one. He sensed his own reserve and knew that it could easily be interpreted as disinterest or moodiness. After a time Patsy’s sparkle diminished and his silence found an equal in hers.

  Even the children sensed the change in atmosphere. Little Patsy wept easily and Jacky vied for his attention with a running chatter that became irritating.

  Their mother tried to placate them but then after a time gave a rueful little laugh. “You see, Colonel Washington,” she said, “children are not always charming and obedient. In fact, many days they are quite difficult. But of course a parent understands that.”

  The sentence hung between them. In effect, she was stating the fact that not every man cared to assume the guardianship of another man’s children. In effect, she was saying that she believed that he was not going to offer to share the raising of hers.

  That day when he left, he told her that she should begin to enjoy the society of her friends again. He did not mention a return visit.

  But three weeks later he was back. His orders had come. The final march on Fort Duquesne was to begin. And lying awake through sleepless nights, George had realized that he could not risk losing Patsy Custis.

  It was clear that she was not prepared for his address. Her glad exclamation when he arrived was quickly subdued into an attitude of courtesy without special overtones. Clearly she had decided that the bachelor colonel would remain a bachelor and she did not intend to let her own feelings for him be known.

  Jacky was unaware of the subtleties. His unfeigned delight at seeing his hero was as artless as it was noisy. Finally George said firmly, “Young Master Custis, there is quite an important matter I must discuss with your mother. You will go to your nurse and stay with her until you are called.”

  “But . . .” Jacky got ready to make his protest.

  “Now!” His command was uttered in precisely the same tone he would use to a recalcitrant private.

  Jacky scurried out of the room and George took Patsy’s hand. He kept their fingers linked together as he said, “I have a feeling that young Master Custis and I may lock horns from time to time but it will be good for him, I think.”

  Patsy’s astonishment at the statement was quite as real as her son’s reaction to the order to leave.

  For a moment George felt tongue-tied but, as usual, he expressed himself through Mount Vernon.

  “I feel very much like the father who is offering a very awkward daughter,” he smiled. “And yet, like that father, I hope that another’s eyes may see the promise of beauty that exists.”

  Now he raised her hands so that they touched his lips. “Patsy, in these past weeks I have thought of nothing but you. There will never be joy for me if I go away without knowing that you and your children are waiting for me to come home.”

  Her blush was as real as any young girl might have shown on being addressed by her first suitor. Amusement at the thought made it easy for George to draw her close to him. She had been married nearly ten years, she had been a mother four times over, yet it was he, the bachelor, who was the least nervous of the two.

  Unbidden, the thought of Sally Fairfax came to his mind. When he danced with her, her tall slenderness made even his great height seem balanced.

  On the other hand, at this moment as he took Patsy Custis into his arms, her very smallness made him feel overwhelmingly protective.

  If Sally challenged him, Patsy gave him faith in himself. With her he would find his challenges on the outside—in attending to his estate, in seeing to a political career in Burgesses, in finishing with this damnable dragged-out war.

  His hand smoothed the back of her hair. With his other hand he tilted her chin up. The smile on her lips and in her eyes showed no sign of timidity. It was the expression of a woman who was used to being deeply loved.

  For the first time he kissed her on the lips. And again, unwillingly, he compared her with Sally. Even the casual public kisses he’d exchanged with Sally—at moments of farewell or greeting after a long absence—quickened his senses. From the lips of Patsy Custis he found warmth . . . and more. He realized that their kiss might have been the affectionate exchange of a couple long used to each other. It was as though for them there would be no hesitation, no awkwardness in their love, but rather an early contentment that was delightful and welcome.

  It was obvious Patsy thought so too. She lifted her hands and cupped his face between her palms. “My old man,” she said, smiling, “offering your dearest possession, Mount Vernon, to me and the children to be our home, and then trying to be honest about its shortcomings. You sounded so distressed.”

  They laughed together. It was the first time she had called him her old man, but somehow he knew it would not be the last.

  It was not the first time he had witnessed her discernment. Patsy might be a very feminine woman who wanted a man to make her decisions for her but she had an insight that made him wonder sometimes if she could indeed read his mind.

  He had thought of Patsy sharing his home, sitting opposite him at the table, being his hostess. He realized that he knew so little he had never really considered that she would be sharing his hopes and dreams and plans too. The thought was exhilarating.

  “Shall we not summon Master Custis?” he laughed. “I am sure he is quite put out with me and it’s high time I restore myself to the good graces of my new son.”

  June, 1758

  The Military Post Winchester

  HIS HEALTH AT LAST RESTORED, HE returned to the military post at Winchester. And finally, it seemed, his arguments about carrying the war into the French-held territory were to be heeded—not that he flattered himself by thinking the military strategy was being changed because of his advice. But the brutal attacks of the savages on the settlers, the endless raids and harassments did make it clear that the enemy must be destroyed at the source. Going to Williamsburg to explain the military situation to the Congress had been helpful. George could see that many members were at last impressed by his constantly repeated statement, “The French simply have to be driven from the Ohio.”

  Two changes made it easier. General Forbes was put in command and Governor Fauquier was appointed. On these new leaders George constantly impressed the need for speed. Speed was essential. The friendly Indians were becoming impatient, and these allies must not be lost. He was sent with his regiment to Fort Cumberland. And, at last, concrete plans were formed for a siege at Fort Duquesne.

  Once that fort was retaken he would leave the army. His goal would be achieved.

  And there was much to be done. These evenings were not quite so hard to endure because suddenly a life at Mount Vernon had become a reality again. Soon he would be finished with the army. Soon he would be marrying Patsy Custis. Soon he would be standing for a seat in the House of Burgesses.

  He spent every spare hour planning alterations and repairs to Mount Vernon and sending detailed letters to the contractor who was handling them. George William Fairfax kept an eye on the progress and reported to him.

  He had tried to write to Sally about his engagement. A dozen times he started a letter, a dozen times he tore it up. And then in the end she heard about it from someone else, probably someone from Williamsburg in whom Patsy had confided.

  Her letter was light and joked about the pretty widow whom he was courting. But for all its airiness there was a strain of sadness there, too.

  Sally wo
uld be genuinely happy to see him with a wife installed in Mount Vernon. Sally loved her husband. But he knew that it wasn’t just vanity on his part to believe that she cared about him, too. It wasn’t just a one-sided attraction.

  Suppose, after all, they had met while she was still free, before she married George William.

  At that thought George reluctantly smiled. When Sally married George William, she had been eighteen. At that time he himself had been only sixteen. Small chance he would have had of having his courtship accepted then.

  But now it was ten years later. The age difference between himself and Sally meant nothing. It was totally unimportant. If they were meeting now for the first time . . . if they were free . . . what would it be like? Then he faced the question that had been nagging at his subconscious. If Sally were ever free would he regret that he was not? In the torment of his soul he wrote to her: “Do not tease me about the pretty widow when you know whom it is I truly love.”

  Her answer treated his letter lightheartedly. Once again he wrote, “Can you possibly misunderstand?”

  While he waited for her reply, George felt that he was living in a vacuum. Mechanically he gave orders, saw to the preparations for the march on Duquesne. He was a good soldier, a good commander. He could trust a subconscious part of his mind to take over the decision-making area and do it well. He felt himself to be a spectator on a high hill observing the group in the valley below. He felt himself an observer of himself.

  And, as usual, it was Mount Vernon that saved him. His letters to Patsy were cold, almost businesslike. He signed them, “Your affectionate friend.” Afterward, waiting for a reply, he miserably expected reproaches.

  But when Patsy’s letter came, it was filled with inquiries about Mount Vernon. Would he please draw her a sketch of the layout of the house? She would be bringing some furnishings from the White House. But, of course, she wanted to please him. She wanted her belongings to blend properly with his. Tell her about the china and linens . . . and the pictures. Which of the furniture at the White House did he feel would be a complement to Mount Vernon’s possessions?