On Agate Hill (34 page)

Mrs. Snow took a deep breath and clutched the arms of her chair. “I know that your little friend Molly Petree is not what you think. Molly the beautiful, Molly the brilliant, Molly the poor orphan girl! Well, poor Molly
may have pulled the wool over everyone else’s eyes, but not over mine, I can assure you. I know that she attempted to seduce my husband, as if he would ever want the likes of her!” Mrs. Snow’s sunken eyes bored straight into mine. “I know that when he attempted to reason with her, she attacked him, which is no surprise to anyone. Indeed, none of this comes as any surprise to me, I regret to say. It merely confirms the opinion I have held of Molly ever since her arrival at Gatewood Academy. For I am quite a judge of character, I pride myself upon it as you know.”

“But Molly did nothing.” Agnes interrupted her. “Nothing at all. Dr. Snow … made advances to her. He touched her, Mariah.”

“Enough!” Mrs. Snow stood up, an immense black figure seeming to grow while we watched. “I will not listen to any more of this filth. Dr. Snow has told me all about her behavior in the garden. I know and have always known what you are, Molly Petree, do you hear me?” And the horrible thing was that I did hear her, and I feared that she was right, in spite of myself. “I cannot run the risk of having you at Gatewood Academy any longer,” she concluded.

Suddenly the blue veins stood out in Dr. Snow’s wide white forehead. “Now wait a second, Mariah—” He stood up. “Just hold your horses,” he said. “A stern admonition will suffice here, as we discussed.”

“No.” Mrs. Snow held out her hand again in that palm-up gesture she has. “We cannot have her here, poisoning our girls. Corrupting them. You know that we cannot, Dr. Snow.” She stared at him wildly. “Whatever are you thinking of? This girl must leave Gatewood immediately.”

“
Good,
” I said, turning to go.

“Wait,” Agnes whispered.

I had reached the door when Dr. Snow recovered himself. “Molly, I’m sure you do not wish to jeopardize your entire future,” he said sharply. “Agnes, stay right there. Keep Molly right there. Mariah, let us counsel together a bit, my darling. Let us think upon our Christian obligations as well as our practical considerations. Let us remember that we are in part a charitable organization, Mariah, and in particular let us recall that you were once a girl
such as Molly, in need of kindness and guidance yourself—” He hissed these words at her as he took her elbow and urged her toward the door.

“I was? I was?” Mrs. Snow was screaming. She tore at her face and hair with her fingernails. “I was nothing like her. Nothing. I was an educated girl, a governess. I? I was tricked, then used, then vilified, then abandoned, then left in the most terrible circumstances with my little child, forced into the most degrading sorts of employment— I was
nothing
like
her.
”

“Mariah, this is not necessary.” Dr. Snow attempted to put his arms around her, but she batted him off as if he were an annoying child. Her face was bleeding, her black hair stood out all around her head like Medusa.

“Who did this to you, Mariah? Dr. Snow?” Agnes’s voice was calm and clear. She stepped forward, placing herself between them and the door.

“Him? Lord, no.” Mrs. Snow rolled her eyes. “Not him, oh no, are you serious? He would not have been worth it, why he could not hold a candle to—” She bit her lip. “No, I met Dr. Snow somewhat later, in Baltimore, a preacher who had lost his church. Doctor! He is no doctor. Let me tell you, I made him.
I made him up!
As well as this school which he seems determined to lose through his ridiculous decisions. Accepting the devil’s spawn—” She gave Dr. Snow a final push and swept out the door, brushing Agnes aside.

Dr. Snow turned to face us. “Girls, as you can see, Mariah is not herself. In fact, you must ignore this outburst altogether, as it is nothing but the product of a fanciful, overtaxed, diseased mind. She is quite insane with grief. I must get her to bed somehow, I must send for Dr. Greene …” He paused, thinking. Suddenly he looked very old. “Agnes, will you help me?” he asked.

“No Sir, I will not,” Agnes said firmly, to my surprise, as she is generally the most helpful person in the world.

Dr. Snow stumbled into the hall, calling for Primus.

I stood there staring at Agnes. “I don’t understand,” I said.

“Nevermind,” she said briskly. “Come along now, Molly, we have things to do.”

And we have been doing them ever since! The first thing Agnes did was
to cut the string which held the asafetida bag around my neck. “Quarantine is over,” she announced. “For we are leaving here as soon as possible.” And we are! But I will write to you always, Mary White, I will find out where you are, and send these letters, for I remain your true friend,

Molly Petree

“Adieu”

As duly recorded by Agnes Rutherford

To the attention of Mrs. Mariah Snow
,

Headmistress, Gatewood Academy

August 27, 1878

Farewell, Sister Mariah,

For this is how I shall always think of you, unspoken, secret Mother, though I do understand that perhaps you did the best you could for the two of us, given your circumstances as you describe them. Who can ever understand the anguish of another human soul? Not I, and far be it from me to judge.

I was going to recommend Rowena Drabble for a post that has come to my attention, but now I have recommended myself. I am taking Molly with me, to remove her from harm’s way. Your secrets will remain safe with me only so long as you and Dr. Snow do not attempt to follow us, or contact us in any way.

God Bless You,
Agnes

F
OR
N
O
O
NE’S
E
YES

August 30, 1878

So now they are gone, while I remain here trapped in this cold stone school. Good riddance! I shall not miss them. Though I confess that I envy them, with all my heart.

The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide;
They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way.

Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia

F
OR
N
O
O
NE’S
E
YES

September 8, 1878

Gave birth.

Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia

Further Notes from Tuscany (FYI)

GATEWOOD ACADEMY SONG

Months of pleasure, months of joy,

We together here have spent.

Freely, and without alloy

Many mercies God has sent.

Hoping soon to meet again,

Fare you well.

Gentle teachers, good and kind,

Thank you for your tender care,

We shall ever bear in mind

All the blessings each now share.

Hoping soon to meet again,

Fare you well.

Loved companions, schoolmates dear

We must bid you all adieu.

You we love with hearts sincere,

We will still remember you.

Hoping soon to meet again,

Fare you well.

REMEDIES

1.
CURE FOR AGUE:
use 1 ounce best powdered Rhubarb and piece of Pearl Ash size of a large nutmeg; pour on 1 pt. boiling water stirring well. When cool, bottle it. Dose: 1 tablespoon before breakfast and the same an hour before dinner. Shake bottle before taking it.

2.
TREATMENT OF DEPRESSION AND SLEEP DISTURBANCES:
Pour one cup boiling water over 1 to 2 teaspoons Saint-John’s-wort flowers or leaves. Steep.

T
USCANY
M
ILLER
30-B Peachtree Court Apts.
1900 Court Blvd.
Atlanta, GA 30039

Hi Dr. F
.,

The Gatewood Academy closed its doors in 1880, apparently they could not keep on going after Simon Black withdrew his financial aid. Mrs. Snow was put into the state insane asylum at Staunton, VA. Dr. Snow disappeared. (I don’t have a clue whatever happened to all those children, Dr. Ferrell!) The school itself is still standing but has now become a home for unwed mothers affiliated with the Reverend Jerry Falwell’s ministry as I said. Girls can go there and have a baby and get their GEDs at the same time, and be ministered unto
.

Now here is what happened to some of Gatewood girls:

Emma Bell Page became a famous missionary to China
.

Phoebe Taylor married a Boston minister and had eight children, one of them was a Senator
.

Harriet Stokes (the one who was “heavy” at graduation) had a baby soon afterward, to her surprise, claiming virgin birth
.

Eliza Valiant married her boyfriend Danny Butterworth, had several children immediately, then died at thirty of something that sounds like an ectopic pregnancy, though I don’t know whether they had those back then or not
.

Mime Peeler never married at all, but lived with her parents in Roanoke, Virginia, where she taught piano lessons and played the organ at the First Methodist Church for the rest of her life
.

Courtney Leigh Lutz killed herself at thirty-four by jumping off an ocean liner bound for France
.

And if you want to know what happened to Molly and Agnes, just keep reading! The next part is by Agnes, it is on file in the Historical Society Reading Room at the Ashe County Public Library in West Jefferson, NC, you will soon see why
.

Hopefully yours,
Tuscany Miller

Up on Bobcat

“Final Impressions”
As duly recorded by Agnes Rutherford

June 8, 1912

This piece of fool’s gold was given to me by Molly Petree when she married. I shall never forget it — the blast of freezing air when the door opened, a sort of whooshing sound as she swept across the floor in that blue hooded cloak I knew so well, though in fact it was pitch black, the middle of the night; the feel of her hair on my cheek and her sweet breath in my ear as she said, “Goodbye, Agnes, I love you. Here, keep this, I want you to have it to remember me by,” pressing the fool’s gold into my hand. She had carried it in her pocket since I had first known her. “No, I cannot—,” I began, struggling beneath the heavy bedclothes but to no avail, for she was already gone, leaving only a heady space of cold air to mark her presence. The little Badger girls on either side of me sat up and began to cry. I soothed them as best I could, saying, “There now, go back to sleep, it was nothing, nothing at all,” which was not true, but even then I could never have foreseen the tragic consequences which were to spring from this event.

Now I hold the fool’s gold up to the sunlight streaming in the kitchen window, turning it this way and that, watching as it throws off rays like little bolts of lightning. I can never decide. Was I, in any way, to blame for what was to come? I have always worried about this, I have always felt guilty. For in actual fact I was responsible for both journeys: that is, first, removing Molly Petree from Agate Hill; and second, removing her from Gatewood Academy and taking her away so precipitously to these mountains.

See how this fool’s gold sparkles in the sun. I wonder if I could have done anything different, if I could perhaps have waited and chosen a less drastic course, and what would have happened then . . . but it is impossible to wrest a decision out of its time and place, and even now I cannot think what I should have done.