Williamsburg Daughter

By Nancy Foshee

The year 1898 ushered in a time of tension between the United States and Spain, fueled by the yellow journalism of newspapers owned by Hearst and Pulitzer. The United States declared war, and thousands of angry volunteers joined up to exact revenge for the bombing of an American battleship. The last decade of the nineteenth century was also a time when individual women were making accomplishments in previously male-dominated vocations. The Daughters of the American Revolution organized women who wanted to make their communities better. And yet, the bulk of American society still felt a woman's place was in the home. Though women could own property and could inherit wealth, married women were considered an appendage of their husbands, making their economic resources the property of their husbands. But immense changes were brewing in technology, communications, and power. It is within this dynamic period that Jessica Calhoun and Stephen McCormack literally collide with one another, and the chemistry that ignites between them propels them into a whirlwind romance, punctuated with danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781635753523

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Williamsburg

Daughter

Nancy Foshee

ISBN 978-1-63575-351-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63575-352-3 (Digital)

Copyright © 2017 by Nancy Foshee

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

296 Chestnut Street

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Chapter 1

Now watch closely, Em, Jessica instructed. My roommate taught me how to do this the first week I was at Radcliffe.

Jessica Calhoun leaned her head back and tossed her cocoa-colored hair down her back as she sat on the cushioned bench in front of her dressing mirror. She shook her hair a few times just to feel the weight of it as it cascaded down past her corseted waistline. She smiled before reaching back to gather her thick curls, twisting them upward to the back of her head and securing them with several polished combs. She finished the look with several loose tendrils which she twirled with her finger into curls just in front of her ears. She checked the effect in the mirror, and once she approved of the result, she turned to face Emily Lynnfield, her cousin and young friend who accompanied her just about everywhere these days.

See? Only takes me about three minutes nowadays, Jessica announced. I only need Martha’s help when I want that Gibson girl look.

Amazing! It looks so professional. And you do this every day all by yourself? Emily asked, her mouth slightly agape.

Just one of the many benefits of going off to college, dearie. No housemaids there to help you get dressed. Certainly no one there to help you fix your hair. I learned quickly to become more self-sufficient. Besides, all of us women were there to learn more about history, language, literature, and economics than just what were the latest fashions from France. But I must confess, we often shared ideas about the latest dress styles and how to accomplish them without necessarily purchasing new gowns each week! I think I got a balanced education, don’t you?

Emily hung her head down, shaking it back and forth slowly. I would love to go off to college too, but my parents are against it. According to them, I will be much better off just knowing my place. Papa’s concerned that I won’t be satisfied with settling down and raising a family.

Jessica nodded. Poor Emily. Her parents were like so many others who felt a college education was wasted on a woman. There were so many obstacles and very few opportunities for women outside the realm of being a wife and mother. And yet there were plenty of women who had already beaten the odds and made history with their accomplishments. Jessica smiled as she thought about her idol, Nellie Bly, the investigative reporter who had uncovered corruption and horrific treatment of patients in a mental hospital in New York. Because of the expose she had written in The New York World, important changes were made in the treatment of mentally ill patients. Her work had inspired Jessica. Regardless of the obstacles, and there were many in Williamsburg, Jessica was determined to have an impact on history just like Nellie Bly.

She stood up and smoothed her deep royal blue skirt before putting on the white cotton blouse and tucking it neatly at the waist. She tied the cravat at the neck and quickly slid her arms into the matching suit jacket before fastening the buttons over her shirtwaist. After gently tugging the jacket into place, she followed this movement by placing her newest hat, bought yesterday from the Mullen Sisters Millinery shop, firmly atop her simple coiffure and secured it with two eight-inch hatpins. The ribbons and feathers parading above the narrow brim of the straw hat added nearly half a foot to her petite height. She turned once again to face her cousin. I know we’re going to Carol’s for lunch today, but first I need to go by the newspaper office to check on my next story.

"Oh, Jessie, are you sure you want to do this? You know Michael is most definitely not in favor of your writing for the Virginia Gazette. He’s likely to be upset with you. Are you sure you want to challenge him?"

Jessica considered her cousin’s words for a moment and was reminded of her father’s warning about the man she had been so determined to accept as a gentleman caller. Her father’s caution now seemed to sting just a bit. And even now she felt guilty for how she had arranged everything. She sighed, and a moment later replied to her cousin, Oh, posh! He’ll get over it, she said, gesturing lamely with her right hand. I mean, I’m not doing anything that is at all illegal. He’ll just have to accept it, that’s all.

I know, but he wasn’t thrilled when you were just publishing information about the church restoration committee work. I was there when he read it for himself. He said it wasn’t ladylike work. He’s likely to get really steamed when he finds out you’re writing about this mess down in Cuba.

Jessica faced her cousin and stamped her right foot for emphasis. Unfortunately for Michael, I will not be kept from doing what I feel is right for me. I have opinions and ideas, and I’m determined to express them. Writing for the newspaper is my passion. That is the best way that I can help teach people. They can read what I write and learn about our world. Journalism is a tremendous power, for good or for evil, I’m afraid. I’m determined to do my part for good. If Michael cannot understand or accept that, then so be it.

You mean you would risk everything?

If by everything you mean, would I risk the opportunity to marry and settle down with a man who would not allow me to express myself, then yes, I think I’m more than willing to do that. She winced as she realized the fib she had just uttered to her young cousin. She glanced away, hoping Emily wouldn’t notice the guilt on her face. She put on her short white gloves, picked up her handbag and parasol, before leading Emily out of her bedroom and down the large spiral staircase of the Calhoun mansion.

When John Calhoun lifted his nearly six-foot frame from behind his desk, Stephen McCormack was impressed with the lawyer’s commanding presence. Perhaps Mr. Calhoun should have gone into politics. If other people responded to him the way Stephen himself did, Mr. Calhoun would have been elected easily. But in many ways, Stephen was glad John Calhoun had chosen a different path. And Stephen was really glad to be able to call this honorable man his friend, as well as his lawyer.

Thank you again, Mr. Calhoun, for all your help with my grandfather’s estate. I do miss him terribly, but just knowing his final wishes have been secured helps.

I was happy to do it, Stephen. Your grandfather was a great and dear friend of mine. You know, your mother died shortly after my wife that same year. Your grandfather was despondent over her loss, but together, we helped one another through the worst days of grief a man can imagine. He spoke so often of you, how proud he was of your accomplishments, even if you chose William and Mary rather than Harvard where he and I both graduated. John Calhoun paused and winked mischievously at the young man.

Stephen nodded and smiled before replying, That was another argument I lost with my father, I’m afraid. I don’t think he ever forgave my mother for naming me after my grandfather. Even though she gave me Dad’s name for my middle name, my father felt I was always more of a Nelson than a McCormack.

Well, you do have your grandfather’s eyes, and, dare I say, his unusual good humor. I’ve only met Senator McCormack twice, and both times he impressed me as rather terse.

Stubborn and hardheaded was how Grandpa put it, but terse is accurate most of the time. He laughed as he extended his hand to shake.

Will you be returning to the estate today? Mr. Calhoun asked.

No, not until this weekend. I’m catching the train back to Richmond so I can sort through my apartment there first. I’m not sure if I’m going to keep it for when I need to stay overnight on railroad business. And now with all the stock Grandpa left me, my responsibility for Chesapeake and Ohio has doubled. If our country declares war, we’ll have to make arrangements to help with troop and supply delivery down to Newport News and Norfolk. These are very confusing times for all of us, I’m afraid.

Yes, indeed they are. But I hope you will be able to continue with our little project, Mr. Calhoun added, frowning slightly. It’s critical that we keep this a secret.

Of course, sir. I am glad to do whatever I can to help, Stephen replied.

Mr. Calhoun ushered Stephen toward the door way as he continued, My daughter tells me that one of our battleships has already sailed to Havana.

Your daughter sounds like she’s paying attention to world affairs, Mr. Calhoun. That’s quite refreshing, I must say. He nodded as he put on his hat and turned to slide the panel doors open. He had just taken two steps out into the hallway when he was suddenly blinded by feathers and ribbons. Jumping backward reflexively, he extended his arms to catch the shoulders of the young woman beneath the hat. He worked to steady her and himself as he pressed her gently back out of his face.

Oh, my goodness, sir. Please excuse my clumsiness! I wasn’t looking where I was going. Oh, I’m so embarrassed. Are you all right? she asked, obviously aflutter from the sudden encounter in the foyer just outside of his lawyer’s office.

Still holding her shoulders, Stephen nodded. But as he gazed at the young woman in front of him, time seemed to stand still. He was struck with the Grecian-like beauty, porcelain skin with a delicate, slightly upturned nose, and rose-colored lips. But it was those mesmerizing ice-blue eyes dancing beneath exotic brows and nearly hidden by dark eyelashes that enchanted him to silence. He smiled as he realized she had stopped talking, waiting for his reply. He took out his handkerchief and gently wiped a smudge from her face where her lip rouge had smeared.

Oh! Are you both all right? asked John Calhoun, rushing to the entryway where they all crowded together.

Quite all right, Mr. Calhoun, Stephen answered, finally able to speak.

Oh, Father, I’m so sorry, she urged.

No need to apologize, madam. It was just a happy accident. No one is hurt, except maybe for your hat, he added, reaching to straighten it on her head. There now. Lovely as ever.

Stepping fully into the foyer, John Calhoun slipped his arm around the young woman as he said, Well, I should at least introduce you to my daughter, Jessica Elizabeth Calhoun, a graduate of Radcliffe, I’m happy to say.

Mr. Calhoun waited while Stephen and Jessica nodded unspoken greetings to one another. Then he continued, Jessie, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Stephen Daniel McCormack, President of Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad.

Jessica cocked her head saucily as she extended her gloved hand to Stephen. He took her hand in his and for a moment felt electricity run up his arm. He shook off the imagined experience and smiled again as he lifted his hat, briefly bowing in her direction.

What about me? asked the other young lady in the hallway.

Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. McCormack, this is my niece and Jessica’s cousin, Emily Lynnfield of Williamsburg. Emily, this is Mr. Stephen McCormack, John Calhoun announced.

When the young lady stepped forward, Stephen shook her hand and nodded respectfully toward her.

Reaching into his breast pocket, Mr. Calhoun glanced down at his pocket watch held in his left hand before announcing, Well, now that introductions have been made, I’m afraid Mr. McCormack is in a bit of a rush. His train leaves in just twenty minutes. Turning directly toward him, Mr. Calhoun ushered him toward the front door and his waiting carriage. If you like, I can telephone the station and have them hold the train for you. After all, you are the president and major stockholder!

Stephen quickly shook his head no. Thank you, all the same, but the train must adhere to its schedule. As my grandfather told me, ‘Never take advantage of your position if it will inconvenience someone else.’

Nodding again to the ladies, Stephen put his hat back on his head and rushed out the door. Once inside the carriage, Stephen gazed back in time to see Jessica Calhoun standing outside the front door alongside her father and cousin. For a moment he wished he hadn’t needed to leave right away.

My goodness, Jessie! He is such a handsome figure of a man! So immaculately dressed and that smile was, dare I say, gorgeous? And so young to be in charge of the railroad! I wonder if he’s attached to a lady in Richmond, Emily gushed. Do you think we will ever see him again?

Jessica smiled at her young cousin. "Whether we do or not, I need to get to the office on England Street in just a few minutes. We best be on our way. We can speculate about the handsome stranger after I speak with the editor of the Virginia Gazette."

Jessica pulled her woolen jacket closer as she walked down the steps to the street. The crisp February air was bearable with her several layers. Still she felt a little chilled, so she quickened her steps, not easily done wearing her tight corset under it all. Not quite to the corner of the street, she turned in time to see the black carriage disappear around the bend. She sighed, not exactly knowing why before she crossed the street and hastened down the street to make her appointment, Emily scurrying along just at her elbow. Moments later, they entered the newspaper office and closed the door securely behind them.

Am I glad to see you this morning, Miss Calhoun, cried Mr. Johnston from across the room. It’s all hands on deck, I’m afraid. And I need your particular expertise right now. How soon can you be at the typing machine? he asked, gesturing toward the desk where the large black machine sat vacant.

Good morning to you too, Mr. Johnston, Jessica called as she nodded smiling in his direction.

He scrunched his nose up and frowned, waving her greeting away. No time for pleasantries. We’ve already missed the story of the century.

Jessica’s ears perked up. What story? she asked as she moved toward the desk and took off her gloves to set to work.

Mr. Johnston hurried to her side to convey the information. You know how you told me the navy had sent a battleship to Havana last month? Well, it exploded in the harbor! Nearly three hundred sailors were killed. And now more and more Americans are demanding we go to war with Spain over this, he nearly shouted over the din of the noisy printing office.

Oh, my goodness! exclaimed Emily. What are we going to do?

Jessica turned and placed her hands on Emily’s shoulders. First of all, we’re not going to panic, Em. Cuba is a long way away from here. You are not in any danger. Second, I think you should probably head over to Carol’s house for lunch as we planned. Carol will be hurt if at least one of us doesn’t make it. You don’t want to be late, and I will have to be here much longer than I first thought.

But what about you? Emily cried.

I’ve got to help Mr. Johnston compose this story for our readers. It’s my job, remember? Jessica offered softly in an effort to quiet her young cousin. She wiped away a few stray tears from Emily’s face with her thumbs, then smiled reassuringly. You go on, dearie. Make my apologies to Carol, okay? Tell her I will telephone her later today.

As Emily headed out the doorway, Jessica eased down at the typing machine and considered what she would write. She inhaled deeply to settle her nerves. This was a big story, but she wanted to get the facts straight. Journalism is a power for good, she thought to herself.

Moving to her side, Mr. Johnston handed her a telegram with the pertinent information on it. "I’m going to craft a headline that reads ‘Spain destroys USS Maine in Havana Harbor!’" Mr. Johnston announced.

Jessica examined the missive carefully for the few facts it provided. Sitting back, she shook her head violently. "You can’t print that, Peter. You don’t know if it’s a fact or not. Remember, you were the one who told me we only print the news we know to be factual at the Virginia Gazette."

"Well, The New York World and The New York Journal have printed pretty much the same."

They can’t have the facts yet either. I’m going to only write an article that contains facts we know to be proven.

She began typing:

The battleship USS Maine was in the Havana Harbor since January 25th in an effort to secure American interests in Cuba. Then on the night of February 15, it suddenly exploded from as yet unknown causes. Reports indicate nearly 300 sailors were killed or injured in the explosion. Efforts were made to rescue as many sailors and marines as possible. Miraculously, Captain Sigsbee and about 75 others were spared. The navy will be sending experts to investigate. This newspaper would like to offer our sincerest condolences to the family and friends of these brave American souls.

Mr. Johnston carefully read the article Jessica wrote and nodded his agreement. You’re right. We need to keep calm right now, and we don’t have all the facts just yet. I’ll tone down the headline to match your article, and we’ll get this out this afternoon. If we end up going to war, it will be because we have facts to support a righteous cause. He turned around and walked back over to the printing press to arrange a proper headline.

Jessica sat back and smiled to herself. She was indeed a real reporter today. She sighed and frowned as she pondered over this latest tragedy and the repercussions that could follow. But as she leaned back in her chair, the memory of Stephen McCormack’s warm smile and merry eyes caused her to feel strangely excited. She shook her head as if to evaporate the memory, after all, she was involved in a courtship with Michael. She frowned briefly as she recalled the sudden encounter. Michael would definitely not like her to be considering any other man. And, in truth, he had been the first to seek her attention. No proper lady would be interested in another suitor. And Jessica was determined to be a proper lady. If the truth got out, her reputation would be ruined.

Chapter 2

With copies of the New York Journal and The New York World lying on the table, Stephen had eased into his private compartment and settled down with the cup of coffee brought to him by the steward just a few minutes before the train pulled out of the Williamsburg station. He leaned back against the cushioned seat and gazed vacantly out the window at the stands of barren trees that lined the track in late February. Spring was several weeks away here in Virginia. Just beyond those empty branches, he could see the several-hundred-year-old pines, perhaps older, which had stood and observed human history, maybe even the earliest settlers up from Jamestown some three hundred years years ago. He smiled as he imagined the fantasy reaction of the forests in southern Virginia. Humans were mortal; forests, not so much. At least in his imagination. Jefferson and Washington had likely passed beneath the shelter of those trees. The pines still stood, though both founding fathers had long been placed six feet beneath the soil.

He took a sip of his coffee and briefly scanned the newspapers in front of him. The tragic loss of life with the sinking of the USS Maine was splattered across the tops of each of the papers. He had known for a year now that powerful American businessmen were lobbying for the American military to intervene in Cuba. Some for purely economic reasons, but others were salivating at the possibility of imperial conquest. His father, the senior Senator from Virginia, unfortunately was one of those imperialists, wanting more territory to conquer to compete with European powers across the globe. This horrible event would only excite them more, giving them another motivation to rush to support the Cuban nationalists. Still, Stephen knew that the American army had fewer than fifty thousand men ready to support such a cause, although the navy was preparing several more battleships, currently being built at Norfolk and Newport News. If war were declared today, it would be months before any actual combat could take place. Nevertheless, when he arrived in Richmond, he would have to consult with his executive board about preparations to transport troops and supplies to the coast. Best to have a plan ready to go in the event it was needed. Arranging for cars and engineers would take time. He pulled out a notepad and quickly jotted down a reminder for himself.

Placing the pad back in his breast pocket, he leaned back and frowned. He had been struggling to remember a conversation he had with Michael Wise some time ago, but the recollection was elusive. He closed his eyes and searched his memory—something about courting a woman who needed to be brought down a peg or two. Suddenly it became clear. Stephen was at Congressman Wise’s Christmas party this past December. The house was crowded with celebrants, most of whom Stephen didn’t know. From out of nowhere it seemed, Michael, the Congressman’s son, found him and pushed a stein of beer into his hand. As Stephen studied his college friend, it was evident the man was in his cups already, and it was only about nine o’clock in the evening. Still, Stephen had welcomed the attention and walked easily with him into Michael’s father’s study where the door muffled the sounds of the crowd.

I’m so glad you could get away from the office, Steve, Michael offered as he slid clumsily into a large chair. These days you are too busy. But you were always more serious than me, especially in college. I just wanted to get through it. You, on the other hand, took it all to heart.

Probably why I graduated at the top of our class, Mike, Stephen suggested as he took another sip of the beer before placing the stein on an end table. He walked over to the window and gazed out at the snow-covered grounds of Congressman Wise’s Williamsburg estate. Outside was quiet and peaceful. Just beyond the study door, guests were singing and laughing loudly. Stephen wasn’t averse to parties. But he really wasn’t much of one to get drunk and do foolish things in front of strangers the way Michael had throughout their years at William and Mary College.

Don’t you get snooty with me, fellow. I was the one who copied off some of your test papers and didn’t fare so well afterward, Michael said.

"That’s because I knew you were copying so I purposefully