Page 49 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“Don’t you worry, Miss Willa. You will see me again. I’ll be driving you around this city while you’re here. Be sure to enjoy yourself while you’re in town, you hear me?”

“I will. I will see you soon,” I said with a smile, and holding the carpetbag close to my side, I went into the hotel.

A uniformed porter stepped into my path. “Where do you think you are going? The Willard is only for guests and their parties.”

“I—I—” I stuttered and looked around frantically for one of the Dickinson family members. I spotted them waiting to walk up the stairs, presumably to their rooms. Emily looked in my direction, and I waved at her.

“There. I’m with the Dickinson party.”

“You? Likely story. Now, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Emily walked over to us. “What is the problem here?” she asked the porter.

“This woman claims to be a member of your party,” he said with something close to a sneer.

Emily stared back at him. “She is. She’s our maid.”

The porter scowled as if he didn’t think much about that. It seemed to me that maids weren’t held in high regard in the grand city.

There was a lot I would have to learn about life in Washington if I was going to survive the next two weeks.

Chapter Eighteen

Much to my relief, the whole Dickinson family was so weary from travel that we had a light dinner at the hotel and retired for the night. As expected, I was in Miss Lavinia and Emily’s room. While the sisters had plush beds to retire to, I was given the settee in the small parlor off of their room. As tall as I was, my feet hung off the end of it, but if I slept curled up in a ball it was quite comfortable. I imagined that I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

The next day, I was awake before the sisters, and was happy for my ability to rise early. My goal for the time in Washington was not to be a nuisance to the family, because I knew Emily was the only one of them who wanted me there. Mr.Dickinson still didn’t know I had accompanied the family on their trip. I prepared for the day, taking extra care with my hair, putting away my bed linens in a closet, and tucking my carpetbag away there too.

I had everything settled before the sun was fully up, and since I had the time, I finished Jane Eyre, which ended quite happily in my opinion.

The sisters woke a while later and had their breakfast. Along with their breakfast tray there was a note from their father. Miss Lavinia read it to herself and said, “Father has business today, so we won’t see him until this evening. Mother would like to rest in her room, and goodness knows what Austin might be up to. Perhaps sowing wild oats before his wedding.”

Emily frowned at her sister. “He would never treat Susan so poorly. Susan is a treasure and should be treated as such.”

Miss Lavinia paused at this assessment as if she didn’t completely agree with her older sister on that point. “In any case, we are free to amuse ourselves in the city. Father has given us the use of his carriage and driver.”

“Excellent,” Emily said with a smile. “I do have plans, you know.”

After the sisters had a leisurely breakfast in their room and put on the new day dresses they had bought specifically for the trip, we left the hotel. When we walked up to Mr.Dickinson’s carriage, Buford smiled at me. “Told you that you’d see me again, didn’t I?” He then turned to the Dickinson sisters. “Where would you like to go, ladies?”

“We want to see the sights,” Emily said.

“And the ice cream shop,” Miss Lavinia said. “Our father told us there is a place that serves ice cream all year long.”

“There surely is. We will go there first.”

Ice cream—and before noontime? How extravagant!

He helped Miss Lavinia and Emily into the carriage. I climbed up onto what I was starting to think of as my perch on the driver’s seat.

On a weekday, the streets were still bustling as men dressed in suits and ladies in their finest day dresses went to and fro about their day. There were plenty of servants and working people too. A boy stood on the corner selling newspapers. A girl on the opposite corner sold flowers. Both shouted at passersby about their wares until their voices were hoarse.

“You will love the ice cream,” Buford said. “It is so sweet that it will make your toes curl. Have you had ice cream before?”

“Homemade,” I said, thinking of the time when I was about eight and my mother had been given cream and sugar from her employer. You would have thought he gave her a home. She was so proud of this gift. Instead of saving the sugar and using the cream to make something more practical like cheese, she made us vanilla ice cream. As the memory came over me, I could almost taste the cold, sweet treat.

Because she had made so much and we couldn’t keep it cold enough to save it, we had to eat the whole lot of it that night. Henry and I went to bed with full and sour bellies, but it had been worth it, or so I thought the next day when my stomach had settled.

Buford pulled Betty Sue to a stop in front of a flat-faced brick building with a red-and-white pin-striped awning hanging over the large front window and door. “Here we are. Be sure to get the strawberry,” Buford said. “You won’t be disappointed.” He hopped off of the driver’s seat so he could open the carriage door for the Dickinson sisters.

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