Page 55 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“Yes, miss, a very busy plantation in its prime.”

“He was a slaveholder,” I said.

He pulled at his collar. “Yes, miss, but he freed all of his slaves in his will. It clearly stated upon his wife’s death, they would all be free. He set quite an example for others to follow.”

“Why did he wait?” Emily asked.

His mustache wobbled up and down. “Would you like to see the house?”

We nodded and followed the guide into the central passage. In front of us was a large staircase with a wide railing. The walls of the central passage were ornately carved and painted a cream color similar to the exterior of the house. To our right were two parlors, and to our left was a dining room and bedchamber. After the entryway, every room seemed to have a burst of color, either on the wall or in the carpets. The dining room’s walls were a bright vibrant green.

“The bedchamber was for guests,” the guide said.

We continued on our tour of the home and then visited the tomb at the guide’s suggestion. We barely spoke throughout. I was so grateful to the Dickinson sisters for letting me share in this experience with them. They could have certainly left me outside of the house, as a servant.

The tomb for both the first president and his wife was behind a brick archway. The path into the tomb was blocked by an iron gate. We peered inside at the marble resting places.

Miss Lavinia and Emily held hands as they stared at the tomb. Emily’s face had at times looked as if she slipped away to a place that could not be reached.

After a long moment, the sisters walked away hand in hand. I took one last look before I left. I thought of Henry and how much he would have wanted to be there. It was funny how after—and in many ways because of—his death, I was having the adventures that he always dreamed of having.

When we reached the mansion again, Emily murmured to herself. All I could catch her saying was “adjusted in the tomb.” She said it three times in a row as if she tasted the words in her mouth, rather than just recited them. I didn’t know where the words came from, but I thought perhaps they were her own.

“This was a lovely day,” Miss Lavinia said. “I am glad we came. I’m only disappointed Mother missed it. She would have loved the parlors.”

Miss Lavinia’s words seemed to snap Emily out of her reverie. “Mother missed it because her duty is to her husband and throwing a party that will impress Father’s colleagues. I would never put myself in that position.”

Miss Lavinia laughed. “You say that now.”

“I say it forever. Look what Mother gave up today for duty. I will never allow that to happen to me.”

Miss Lavinia shook her head. “In any case, we should head back to the Willard and rest.”

Emily nodded, and I felt my heart quicken. Had Emily forgotten why we were here?

I cleared my throat. “I thought you wanted to stop at that little inn on the way to the mansion for some refreshment. Being this close to Washington’s home, they must be accustomed to serving tourists as they come and go from Mount Vernon.”

Emily’s brow furrowed and then cleared as if she just remembered why I brought this place up again. “You’re right, Willa. Thank you for reminding me about that. It would be nice to have a bit of lemonade or tea before we get back on the boat. Don’t you agree, Vinnie?”

I expected Miss Lavinia to argue with the idea because it seemed to me that she argued with everything and anything when I was involved. However, to my surprise she said, “I am thirsty. We have been walking and standing a long time. My head is full with so much information from the guide that it does sound nice to give my feet and my mind a little rest before we go back to the hustle and bustle of the city.”

I let out a sigh of relief but then then fear gripped me. What would Mr.Johnson say when he saw us?

—

The Dickinson sisters and I walked into the Tortoise and the Hare Inn. In front of us was a simple reception desk for guests to check in if they were staying the night. To the left there was a large tearoom. The moment that I saw it, I felt charmed. I had never seen so many teacups and teapots in all my life. They sat on colorfully painted shelves and didn’t seem to be organized in any way. There were glazed teapots with decorated rural scenes, teapots that appeared to be from India, and even teapots with cats dancing all over them. There were so many that it would be impossible to see them all.

“My word,” Miss Lavinia said. “Why would a little tearoom like this have need of so many teapots and teacups? They couldn’t even accommodate all of Congress. Why have so many here?”

“There you go again, Vinnie. Always being practical,” Emily said.

“But really, Sister, this is excessive.”

“I like it, and since this is my place, that’s all that matters.” A thin Black woman came into the dining room from a side door. As the door swung close, I just caught a glimpse of the huge iron stove inside. It was bigger than the one at the Dickinson home. Up until this time, the Dickinsons’ stove was the largest that I had ever seen.

“You own this inn?” Miss Lavinia asked in disbelief.

The woman frowned at her. “Do you think I’m telling a lie?”

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