Papa had refused to take up his old command, but I wondered if Washington’s public show of confidence would change his mind. And I was delighted when Washington gave a slight smile that didn’t show his teeth. “I shall give some thought as to how to bring your father to my side. In the meantime, young ladies, we shall expect your company at the forthcoming dance assembly. When the officers learned that we were to have a visit from such toast-worthy belles, they pooled together the funds to host a proper winter’s ball, complete with a French dance master. You must attend. I insist.”
Chapter Seven
I was prepossessed in favor of this young lady the moment I saw her. A brunette with the most good natured lively dark eyes I ever saw, which threw a beam of good temper and benevolence over her whole countenance. She was the Finest Tempered Girl in the World.
—JOURNAL OF TENCH TILGHMAN
I COULDN’T RESIST A direct order from the commander in chief, and so I spent at least half a day with Kitty and Angelica in preparation, curling hair, lacing stays, and deciding between silk heeled shoes. And when Angelica powdered my bosom with some rice powder sent especially to me as a gift by Mrs. Washington, I began to believe that a project had been made of me.
“Something’s amiss,” Kitty said, appraising me where I stood in a Robe à la Polonaise of ivory silk brocade with sprays of autumn flowers in shades of gold and brown and rose.
It was another gift, this one from Angelica, whose husband was capable of obtaining the most current fashions from overseas without having to pay an unpatriotic tax on it. She held a rope of my dark hair at my nape with one hand. “It’s only that Betsy’s throat is bare, without anything shiny to draw the eye or entice a man to nibble.”
There was no use in pretending to be scandalized by my sister, who’d always said such things. But still, I felt obliged to remark, “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“Au contraire, you impossible girl,” Angelica said. “Must I extol to you the pleasures of the marriage bed to keep you from becoming a spinster?” She fastened upon my neck a number of necklaces, all of which seemed too ostentatious for words, and I refused everything but a simple black ribbon. “I suppose that will have to do,” she said.
Then we were off in the sleigh!
Despite the scant offerings of eatables and drinkables, it was, as General Washington promised, a proper winter ball inside a little tavern turned military storehouse on the green, its windows etched with frost. The second floor was positively transformed, illuminated by the warm glow of at least a hundred candles on crossbeams. And amidst the notes of flute, violin, and harpsichord, mingled a motley assemblage of about sixty gentlemen and officers.
Our Americans in buff and blue, Prussian adventurers like Baron von Steuben with medals glittering on their chests, and French officers in perfectly tailored coats with gold braids at the shoulders. And, to Kitty’s great satisfaction, not a single lobsterback in sight.
“You forgot your fan,” Angelica scolded me.
“It’s too cold for a fan,” I said, which made both my companions laugh.
“Oh Betsy,” Kitty said, her green eyes glittering with worldly amusement. “This is what comes of socializing only with boys of the Blues in Albany. Without a fan, how are you to convey a message like stay away or come hither?”
A little vexed at her superior tone—at both of them fussing at me—I replied, “Why I suppose I would just say the words.”
Angelica’s eyes widened with delight. “Betsy has learned to bite!”
As there were only sixteen ladies in attendance, every male gaze in the room turned our way, and Angelica gave the slow wave of her fan that said, I am married.
Not that it discouraged them.
Kitty’s daring gown with bold red-and-white stripes ought to have made her the belle of the ball. But it was my sister, in pink silk and cream-fringed trim, who reigned over the dance hall, and we attended her like faithful handmaidens. Good thing, too, because her natural comfort in formal social outings allowed her to artfully plead thirst as a way to steer us away from the crowd of men who descended.
In the breathing space at the punch bowl, Angelica motioned with her chin toward her knot of admirers in tight buff breeches and decidedly smart dress uniforms, and I recognized a few of them from headquarters as Washington’s closest aides. “They’ll claim to be starved for female attention,” she said. “But I assure you, there’s been such a parade of debutantes come to camp to land a husband that they have learned to tumble from haystacks with the dairymaids straight into the arms of gentlemen’s daughters.”