Lee and Mrs. Gray: A Novel 29 | MARY Mrs. Pinckney lived in a plain-looking house in Georgetown, its unremarkable façade offering no clue to the opulence within. I handed my calling card to the servant who opened the door and stood in the entry hall in my mourning clothes, admiring the tall gilt-framed mirrors and French tapestries lining the walls and trying to calm my nerves. I had not seen Mrs. Pinckney since my wedding celebration. From time to time I had written to her on behalf of the Colonization Society, and she had responded with modest donations. But I wasn’t certain she would receive me. Or that she would be amenable to my plan. “Mrs. Lee?” The girl who had admitted me to the house returned. “Please come with me.” She led me into the parlor, where Mrs. Pinckney waited behind a gleaming silver tea service. Mrs. Pinckney dismissed her girl with a wave of her hand and rose to greet me. “Mrs. Lee. This is a pleasure I never anticipated, after more than twenty years.
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