Chapter Twenty-Five #2
to impress the Europeans, and it was the only bit of my gardening I could trust to a sea voyage. “I don’t know if the plant
is native to that place. Dr. Franklin believes it may be called Tillandsia. Or he says it is perhaps an orchid or fungus of
some kind.”
“A wondrous thing no matter its name,” Jefferson said, peering closer. “Does it flower?”
“I didn’t think so, but since bringing it to Europe, I was surprised to see it bloom.”
Jefferson gave a grin that tilted toward rakish. “Much like you, my dear Mrs. Adams?”
This was gallantly understated flirtation, which made me flush with pleasure. “I forgive your impertinence because you make
an apt comparison. During the war, I went so long without the companionship of my dearest friend that I sometimes felt as
if I, too, must subsist only on the nourishment I could grasp from the air.”
The widowed Jefferson suddenly sobered. “Yes. Sometimes we must learn to thrive without our beloved companions. For the sake
of our children, if for no other reason.”
Realizing I’d stumbled into a tender place, I gave him a moment to collect himself. My eyes drifted across the garden to where
our girls sat—Patsy weaving together a necklace of flowers for Nabby. “It is a delight to see them together.”
“It is.” His blue eyes warmed as he watched the girls. “A friend from America is a comfort for Patsy. Is your daughter as
homesick as mine?”
I tapped my chin. “Difficult to say. Nabby is separated just now from her betrothed, and it dampens her mood.”
Jefferson shook his head and offered some reason for optimism. “Oh, young Miss Adams may be down in the dumps now, but the
education she shall receive here will be worth it.”
“Ah, the education of young ladies! You’ve hit upon one of my favorite topics . . .”
I thought he might laugh, but instead he laced his hands behind his back in thoughtful contemplation.
“It is a subject very much on my mind. I’d like Patsy to learn the best poets and even the graver sciences.
She may one day head a little family whose education will probably rest on her alone because the chance she will draw a blockhead in marriage I calculate at about fourteen to one. ”
My laughter tinkled like a French fountain. “A grim calculation, sir.”
Jefferson laughed a little, too. “I envy you sons, whose futures are in their own hands. To be the parent of daughters seems
a more fraught exercise.”
“But uniquely rewarding.”
That elicited an unexpectedly tender smile. “So true. In the hour of my greatest loss it was my daughters who were my solace,
comfort, and tie that bound me to earth. Especially Patsy.”
It’d been two years since the loss of his wife; yet, still, I heard his raw pain in speaking of it. Like me, he seemed to
harbor too much sensibility. Like me, he’d been forced to leave his two youngest children with relatives in America. Like
me, in his loneliness, he’d forged a tight bond with his eldest daughter. We had more in common than I might’ve ever supposed,
and I wanted very much to make him a friend. Especially since I had so few others in this new country.
To remedy this isolation, I wished to become acquainted with France’s educated ladies. For years, my husband had written to
me of their excellence and sophistication. Mr. Jefferson also alluded to Frenchwomen’s prominent role in political matters.
None so prominent, they said, as the wealthy widow Madame Helvétius, whose salons were frequented by luminaries like Diderot,
Condorcet, and Turgot.
They said she was the model Frenchwoman, and that sculptors, politicians, jurists, and playwrights all attended her while
her eighteen ribbon-adorned Angora cats mingled amongst the guests.
But I could scarcely believe this when we encountered her at a visit to Dr. Franklin’s house, where she came with not cats
but a little lapdog she carried into the parlor.
She threw herself upon a settee in such a way as to expose leg and thigh and my daughter blinked in shock, which caused her brother Johnny to whisper something, and both made faces behind her fan.
But the wealthy widow wasn’t even slightly abashed. She sprawled, crooning to her little dog, who piddled by my foot.
Jumping away, I said, “Oh, he’s made a mess. Let me call for a towel.”
Madame Helvétius pressed a finger to her lips. “Please do not. Dr. Franklin accuses me of loving this little dog more than
I love him. So, we must keep this our secret.”
With that, she used the hem of her gown to wipe up the puddle. Then she disappeared into the crowd of guests who went outside.
Am I dreaming what I just saw?
“It would seem the lady’s rank sets her above the little formalities of modesty and cleanliness,” said Mr. Jefferson, who
had, until this moment, situated himself in the corner by a potted plant, quiet and mysterious as a sphinx.
Abashed, I cried, “So it seems!”
“Would that we might all be excused from formalities,” Jefferson continued, offering me a small pastry from the sideboard.
“The expense of appropriate garments for court at Versailles has me afraid to examine the receipts.”
Nibbling the proffered pastry, I commiserated with him. “I feel the same every time I review our books. It seems quite unconscionable
what Congress thinks diplomats should be able to survive on.”
Jefferson’s head tilted in what seemed to be genuine surprise. “Mr. Adams permits you to review accounting books?”
I’d become a manager of finances by necessity during the war, but I supposed a gentleman of Virginia would consider it unladylike
to continue the practice. So, I was careful with my words. “Oh, yes. Mr. Adams is so accustomed to the role of statesman that
he prefers to leave matters of smaller importance in my less-capable hands.”
My hands were more than capable, and I’d saved us quite a bit of money over the past ten years by countermanding my husband’s instructions when they made no financial sense.
So, John now really preferred not to be troubled by money.
But I didn’t wish to diminish my husband in the eyes of a colleague, so I diminished myself instead.
“With prices what they are here in France, I fear Mr. Adams’s trust in me may be misplaced.
My meager talent at economy will not prevent us from being losers by the year’s end. ”
“I feel the same pain,” Jefferson said, and I didn’t doubt it, because he’d taken a house in Paris proper and was sending
his daughter to take her education in an exclusive convent school.
I gently expressed my worries about young Patsy being exposed to papist thought there, but Mr. Jefferson reassured me religion
would be no part of her education. And to lessen my prejudice, he sent tickets for us to witness a ceremony of nuns about
to take the veil.
Between this and John taking me to visit the hospital for abandoned infants, I learned nuns provided love and tenderness to
these little orphans. But what could account for the number of abandoned children here in France?
As a mother, I couldn’t understand it. It hardened me against the French. I didn’t care for their morals, their manners, or
their mode of living. And though we were on a diplomatic mission, I worried that judgment would show upon my face to every
person here. For my heart and soul felt more American than ever. But like that hardy plant from Connecticut, I’d have to find
a way to thrive here without my native soil.