Mrs. Grant and Madame Jule by Jennifer Chiaverini

float about her head when Mrs. O’Fallon put it on her, enveloping her in its delicate folds. For the first time in her long engagement, Julia truly felt like a bride.
    She was happier than she had ever been, she thought later as Jule undressed her and put the gown carefully away. No power on earth could diminish her joy now that she and Ulys were to be united in love at last.
    •   •   •
    Ulys soon returned from Ohio, but even as Julia ran outside to greet him and took his arm to lead him into the foyer, she knew something was wrong. “Why are your parents not with you?” she asked. “Are they resting at the Planters House?”
    “They’re at home,” said Ulys. “They aren’t coming to the wedding.”
    “Oh, how unfortunate,” said Julia. “I was looking forward to meeting them. I hope they aren’t unwell.”
    “No, they’re all in perfect health.” He held her out at arm’s length to admire her, but his smile seemed forced. “You’ll meet them on our wedding trip instead, and when they get to know you, they’ll love you as much as I do.”
    Something in his tone made her wary. “You say that as if they’re predisposed
not
to love me, knowing me only through your stories.”
    “I’ve said only good things about you,” said Ulys. “I have only good things to say.”
    “What is it, then?” When Ulys shook his head, she added, “Please tell me. Does your family object to our marriage?” She had been so preoccupied with Papa’s objections to the match that it had never occurred to her to wonder how Mr. and Mrs. Grant felt.
    “You know I come from abolitionist people.”
    “You’re something of an abolitionist yourself, but I don’t hold that against you.”
    “They’re deeply unhappy that I’m marrying into a slaveholding family,” Ulys admitted. “They say they can’t come to the wedding. Their consciences won’t permit them to enjoy any fruits of slave labor, and they won’t allow their presence here to give tacit approval to an institution they abhor.”
    “Oh.” Suddenly light-headed, Julia sank into a chair. “I see.”
    “It isn’t you they reject, Julia, but slavery. They can’t abide it.”
    “Of course. I understand.” She felt tears gathering but forced them back. “I certainly wouldn’t want them to disregard their consciences.”
    Ulys knelt beside her chair and took her hands in his. “In time they’ll grow fond of you. I know they will. They won’t be able to help it.”
    “You know them best,” she said. “If you think I can win their affection, then I’ll certainly try.”
    •   •   •
    Candles lit the way as Julia descended the staircase on the sultry August night she married Ulysses.
    She knew he waited for her in the parlor, her cousin James Longstreet standing beside him as his best man, the rest of the bridal party gathered nearby. The thunderstorms of late afternoon had rumbled and flashed furiously before moving on to the east, leaving heavy rains in their wake, the fat drops pattering on the roof like the beating of drums. The foyer smelled of the wet shawls and wraps hanging to dry in the closet beneath the stairs, and soon Julia glimpsed the friends and loved ones who had worn them—young ladies in elegant gowns, handsome officers in dress uniform, dowagers smiling and blinking away tears, beloved family who had known her all her life, all crowded into the drawing room, full of anticipation, standing witness, making Julia’s happiness complete, or nearly so.
    Earlier that morning Ulys had earned himself a scolding from Mamma, Nell, and Mrs. O’Fallon by calling on Julia, for it was bad luck for the groom to glimpse his bride before the ceremony. Laughing off their teasing warnings, Julia agreed to see Ulys, albeit briefly, only long enough to exchange a few heartfelt words of love and to accept his wedding gift, a chased gold locket worn by a narrow velvet strap from the wrist. Inside was a daguerreotype of the face she