January 26, 1944
Dear Gina,
I’ve been a married woman living in Hickory for only four days and it already feels like a lifetime. It’s not going well, dear friend. I hardly know where to start to tell you about it.
To begin with, my new husband didn’t touch me on our wedding night, or on any night since, for that matter. I’m both relieved and mystified. Relieved because I don’t love him (yet) and feel very little attraction to him—my heart still belongs to Vincent—but mystified because he was so ardent in that hotel room in Washington and now seems utterly passionless around me. Perhaps it’s the baby? I don’t know, and I don’t feel comfortable enough with him to ask him outright.
Henry is very generous, however. He gave me money to spend on new clothing, since I’d brought so little with me, and yesterday he directed me to the most exclusive shop in Hickory’s cute little downtown. The sort of shop where I feel like an imposter. I turned myself over to the saleslady and let her select outfit after outfit for me. Soon I will have to break down and buy maternity clothing, but for now, my girdle still hides my condition and no one is any the wiser. I had fun shopping, actually, but I would have had much more fun if you had been with me.
I’m living in a darling town, in a rather posh neighborhood of hilly, winding roads and beautiful homes. Henry’s family home is among the prettiest and I still get lost in its many rooms. My favorite rooms are the library, which is filled with books on all subjects, and the upstairs parlor, where I feel snug and comfortable. It snowed yesterday and I spent much of the day nestled in that room, studying for the RN exam. I’m not sure how I will be able to get to Winston-Salem for the three-day exam in March, since Henry doesn’t want me to take it and I will be five months along then. Travel might be challenging. But I’m determined! I’ve come this far and once my baby is old enough to leave with a sitter (Henry wants us to have an actual nanny!), I will be a nurse, by hook or crook!
Oh, Gina, I don’t want to tell you how truly difficult these past few days have been! You will worry and I don’t want you to. I know I’m very fortunate that my baby’s father is taking responsibility for my child and myself, and certainly I’m living in paradise. But there is so much wrong. To begin with, his mother and sister already dislike me intensely. His mother, who is a lovely, sophisticated-looking woman, is kind to my face, but I know she wanted Henry to marry a girl named Violet who she thinks is a far more suitable match. Which she probably is. Henry denies they were engaged, but clearly there was some sort of relationship there that I have disrupted, and although I haven’t met this Violet, I feel terrible for hurting her. Henry’s mother has also figured out that I am expecting (though she’s said nothing to me about it), and I know she thinks I’m very loose and unworthy of her son and the family name. I don’t know how to win her over but I’m determined to try. Henry’s younger sister, Lucy, is cold to me, and has perfected a sneer each time she looks at me. She is bitter because she had no debutante ball due to the war. Can you imagine the sort of girl she is? How will I ever relate to her? I remind myself it’s only been a few days and we are all trying to make the best of things.
They have a maid named Hattie. I guess that means I also have a maid now! That’s another adjustment, turning over my laundry to someone else to do. Not bothering to make my bed or dust the dresser because she’s expected to do it. She’s a wonderful cook, working magic with the little bit of rationed food we can get, and I like her. As a matter of fact, she is the kindest person in the house. She’s the only person around whom I don’t feel uncomfortable.
And dear Gina, they want to turn me into a Baptist! Henry has informed me in no uncertain terms that I am no longer Catholic. I’ve never met a Baptist in my life till now, and I know nothing about the Baptist religion, but I guess I will find out this Sunday when we go to church. Maybe I won’t be able to go to mass any longer, but I will always be Catholic in my heart.
I’m so sorry to go on and on this way. Don’t worry about me. This is all new and temporary—a period of adjustment. Henry is building a house for us nearby. I haven’t seen it yet, but I don’t care if it’s a shack—as long as it puts some distance between us and his mother and sister.
Now tell me all about you. Any news from Mac? How is your mother? Treasure her before it’s too late! And please, please keep in touch. I miss you, Gina. I miss my dear mother. And I miss Vincent more than I can say—I try not to think about him or I won’t be able to function at all. If you should hear from him or learn anything about him, please don’t tell me. I need to put him out of my mind as best I can. I know I can trust you to never reveal my whereabouts—or my condition—to him.
Oh, Gina, there is so much I’ve done that I wish I could undo!
With love,
Tess