Clara was consigned to the servant quarters in the basement. Her bedroom was windowless, airless, more like a cave or a prison cell. I was given a comfortable room upstairs. We saw each other daily but it was dangerous for us to speak. Clara was threatened with a whipping if she said a word to me. I was told I would be locked in my room without food for the rest of the day. I slipped her a note, urging her to have patience. I would do my best to extricate us from this nightmare. That proved far from simple. Each day I was sent to a school with my two Van Vorst cousins, where young women were taught to read French, dance minuets, and serve tea—the three accomplishments a wealthy young New York female was expected to acquire before marriage. The school was run by a fat bustling Englishwoman named Madame Ardsley, who also devoted a good deal of time to scouring any and all traces of a New York accent from our vocabularies. New Yorkers were inclined to say “tree” instead of three and “dem”
What do You think about Remember The Morning (2011)?
