CHAPTER 36
Frances Allan sat in the picture window that overlooked Fourteenth Street just as she had hundreds of times before. From this vantage, it was safe to gaze upon the world without having to actually engage in it— an act that had become increasingly difficult for her to do. In fact, nothing had been all right for years. 
Things had changed since their whirlwind romance all those years ago, when a dashing young Scot whisked Miss Frances Keeling Valentine onto a cotillion dance floor. 
“John Allan, of Irvine, North Ayrshire, Scotland; extremely honored to make your acquaintance,” he had said. Within a year, they’d be married, the shingle of Ellis & Allan hung, and John became a naturalized citizen. [1]
Life was heavenly for the newlyweds. Business was booming and John granted his young bride her every wish. But despite the expensive clothes, and fancy carriage, he could not give her the one thing she wanted most of all. The couple tried for a baby, with no luck.  Desperate, Frances secretly consulted a slave woman whose reputation for mixing potions, and casting spells was becoming legendary in hushed circles. That didn’t work either.   
So when the celebrated actress, Eliza Poe, became terminally ill, Frances sat vigil with fatally ill woman who was already a widow, while someone else occupied the dying woman’s soon-to-be orphaned children. 
Fanny’s last few bedside visits were silent and peaceful, but overwhelmingly somber. Thankfully, she was absent the day the actress took her final breath, giving her the needed strength to console the three Poe orphans. William understood their mother was dead, and wept openly. Little Edgar cried, although at age two, he couldn’t have known what was happening. The infant Rosalie remained oddly silent.  
Frances vowed to help the children. She placed the baby with the MacKenzies, and sent little William off to his grandparents in Baltimore. Only then did she plead with John to take in the toddler Edgar. 
The three lived happily until sister Nancy’s fiancé died in“Mr. Madison’s War’ of 1812, and she too came to live under the Allan roof. 
Eddy was Fanny’s pride and joy as she paraded the child around in a way that made the good ladies of Richmond coo, and their husbands cringe. She indulged him to no end and tied her happiness inexplicably to his. 
But as the years progressed, things changed. The money stopped flowing. John’s temper flared. An oppressive pall came over their home. And yet, Fanny put on a good front with a cheery outward disposition. 
But after awhile, even the facade began to crack, and Fanny’s melancholy began. She ignored her health, and embraced her loneliness, taking comfort in this darkness. It was just easier as she suffered in silence. 
Frances remembered the day John came home and announced their move to England. Equally shocked and angry, Fanny played the gentle supporter while quelling her own concerns.
Through it all, Eddy was the glue that kept her together. The boy wouldn’t stop talking about the trip, and in that Fanny found joy. 
The Atlantic crossing wasn’t easy. Fanny remained seasick in the dank cabin on board the Lothair [3] for nearly a week. Once they arrived, however, things got better as she and Nancy explored boutiques, and watched royal pageantry at Buckingham Palace.  But after awhile, she missed home. When the post brought letters from the States, Frances read them repeatedly. Nancy reminded her that Richmond, Virginia was so named for its similarity to Richmond Hill on the Thames [4]. That little fact seemed seemed to help, but only for awhile. 
Meantime, Eddy's childlike excitement was the perfect cure for her sorrow. So how could she say no when her darling boy asked to join his Pa on a trip to Scotland? He never said he planned to live the boy there. When she found out, Frances became furious.  ‘How could you just… leave him there?! She yelled. 	
 ‘I didn’t just leave him! He is with my sister! There are children there.’ 
 ‘You tricked him,” she cried. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye!’
 ‘I didn’t trick anyone! Mary offered that the boy to stay. He was laughing with the village boys when I left. You’re the one who complains there’s no decent boys for him to play with. Ya keep him locked up inside as though he’ll fall in with some lice-infested coster!” [5]
Fanny cried herself to sleep, imagining Eddy in a strange home. So weeks later, she was ecstatic when he came back.  She ran down the stairs before the coachman had come to a complete stop. Little Eddy opened the carriage door, and jumped out. They held each other on the sidewalk, weeping openly against the disdainful looks from pursed-lipped Londoners. 
Americans, they grumbled. 
Frances was thankful Eddy was back, but something was different, as if a bit of his innocence had been stolen. 
As the autumn weather set in, Fanny’s health worsened. She lost a stone [6]. Though she’d never admit it, when she heard Ellis & Allan was failing in London,  she was secretly happy. Returning to Virginia was a wish come true, even though it would mean another grueling trip across the sea. 
Unfortunately, the trip across the Atlantic was worse than before.  Fanny suffered so much seasickness that upon arrival in New York, a doctor was summoned [7]. He looked her up and down, and announced, “she’s fine,” before handing John a bill. She  was accused of feigning illness for attention. 
Once back in Richmond, Fanny’s illness disappeared for awhile. Too bad John wasn’t there to enjoy her recovery. He was busy trying to pay back their massive debt now debt crippled by an even worse US market. 
Thankfully, the Ellis’ lent them a lovely little house with a picket fence on the corner of 2nd and Franklin [8] complete with a fresh-faced servant girl named Juliet.
Fanny always liked Juliet, and she knew it was mutual. Juliet wouldn’t dare come right out and ask Fanny a question, but when prompted, she was filled with questions about life and about what it meant to be a woman, and Fanny was only too willing to share. 
There was something special about this girl. In her, Eddy had a playmate and a positive influence. And although Fanny spotted a vague physical resemblance to Mr. Ellis, Juliet wasn’t -according to society- to be treated like an Ellis. As for her acceptance of the girl’s friendship with Eddy, Frances took a lot of flack.
“Eddy shouldn’t play with the servant’s children,” they would say. “She’ll rub off on him.” And while Frances had her own opinions about slavery— no one ever asked. 
Now years later, Frances was in awe of the gorgeous young woman, Juliet- sweet, well mannered, and filled with the same joy of life that she herself once knew. 
Pity she fell into the three fifths rule [9]. It wasn’t fair. Then again, life wasn’t fair. 
In Juliet, Frances had a gentle listener, and an emotional companion. She deserved more. So the day Fanny decided to teach Juliet to read was a bold, political stance on women’s issues, and the growing abolitionist movement. Fanny knew it was illegal to teach a servant to read, but she didn’t care. Nancy was let-in on secret, and Eddy too. 
Juliet took to reading like wildfire. By the end of the first month, she knew basic words, and within the year she was reading bible verses. Frances was proud of her apt student, as well as her defiant and covert operation. 
With John and Mr. Ellis away, or ‘down the pub’ courting business, it was also cathartic. John would come home smelling of perfume. Now he wasn’t the only one with a secret. Fanny had one too. And while she was despondent over his obvious infidelity, she knew there wasn’t much she could do but accepted it. Years later, she sat contemplating the world through a dozen panes of glass, all the while engaging in this mortal coil less and less and less.