Page 48 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

As I climbed onto the seat, I stared open-mouthed at everything around me. There were just so many people. Fine ladies and gentlemen walking into the station, servants running this way and that, people selling tickets for the next train right there on the street. And the chatter, the noise—I had never heard anything like it.

Matthew was nowhere to be seen. I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t looked for him when we got off the train.

The driver hopped onto the seat next to me and smiled at me. “Your first time in Washington, I take it.”

“It’s my first time anywhere,” I said in awe.

He laughed. “Well, this is an interesting choice for your first venture. The nation’s capital is like no other city on earth,” he said with pride. “I was born here and have lived here my whole life. I would never leave.”

“That’s what I think of my home in Amherst that I didn’t ever want to leave.”

“Leaving what you know is hard.” He flicked the reins. “Betty Sue, let’s go home.”

“Your horse is named Betty Sue?” I asked, starting to feel at ease.

“Yes, after my dear sweet mother. God rest her soul.” He looked to me as he expertly pulled into traffic between two delivery wagons. It was a tight spot that I didn’t think any driver back in Amherst would dare try. However, I thought, when you lived in a big city like this, you had to take chances to get where you were going or you would be stuck in the same place forever.

“I’m Buford Buckley, by the way. I’m the driver for Mr.Dickinson while he’s in Washington. He’s a fair man. Perhaps a little stern, but I have driven for all sorts of men. I would much prefer to work for an exacting and honest fellow than for a crook. We have our share of those in this city, believe you me.”

“I’m Willa Noble, and I’m the Dickinson family maid; well, second maid. I’m here to help the family any way that I can.”

Of course, I didn’t say a word about Mr.Johnson or my brother.

“What will you do when Mr.Dickinson goes back to Massachusetts for good? Are you worried about losing your position?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m not worried. There will be another representative coming in, and in a place like this, important men are always looking for skilled drivers such as myself. Now, pay attention, I’m going to point out all the highlights to you while we ride to the hotel where you will be staying.”

He pointed out the sights: the half-built Washington Monument, the Smithsonian, and the Capitol. Then we traveled down Pennsylvania Avenue and passed the president’s home. It was a grand white building with foreboding pillars in the front and a great green lawn that appeared to go on forever.

Buford flicked the rein again to encourage Betty Sue to pick up the pace. “President Pierce is in there right now, deep into the bottle if you ask me.”

“He drinks spirits?” I asked.

He glanced at me. “In my opinion, all politicians do, but not many like the president. Can’t blame the man for that. He buried all three of his children. His wife is broken over it like any mother would be.”

I stared at him. “How do you know all that?”

“You should know, Miss Willa; servants talk.”

That was true.

“And here is where you will stay, Miss Willa. Right here on the corner.”

I stared. It was a grand building that had a wide promenade in the front of it. Like the president’s home it was white and striking against the blue sky and fluffy clouds. Black paint meticulously outlined each window, and there were more chimneys than I could ever possibly count.

“Oh my,” I said.

“Wait until you see the inside of it,” he said with a wink. He pulled up alongside the building, and young men in suits and small caps were there in a flash opening the carriage door for the family and helping the ladies out one by one.

“It’s stunning,” Miss Lavinia said.

For once, I wasn’t the only one who was impressed with my surroundings.

“Your trunks and other luggage have already been delivered to your room,” one of the porters said with a bow.

“Wonderful,” Austin said and marched into the hotel without so much as a backward glance. His sisters and mother followed at a much slower pace.

I looked to Buford. “Thank you for the tour. It was very nice to meet you.”

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