(The following narrative is an excerpt from my book “A Quiet Madness: A Biographical Novel of Edgar Allan Poe.“)
Moments later, Maria was escorting Mrs. Allan to the door.
“What is her outlook?” Mrs. Allan asked.
Maria shook her head sadly.
“She doesn’t have long. The doctor says just a few days.”
“What will happen to the children when she passes?”
“I’m not sure,” Maria said. “They will probably go to their grandparents or be put up for adoption.”
Frances studied her for a moment.
“I wanted to say to you that my husband and I have no children. When the time comes, we might well be interested in taking little Edgar into our home and raising him. He seems to be such an intelligent child. Of course, I’ll have to talk to my husband.”
“I appreciate the thought. Can I ask a question?”
“Sure.”
“You and your husband are well-off?”
“We own a plantation.”
Maria quickly turned back to her.
“A plantation?”
“Yes, a plantation.”
***
Two days later, Luke Usher appeared at the Poe home and presented Eliza with $425 in cash.
“The proceeds of the benefit,” he said. “I hope it helps.”
“Oh, thank you so much. We can survive a couple months on that. Maybe even longer. I could kiss you.”
“I just wanted to help. You’ve been a good and faithful friend. I couldn’t bear to see you in such a situation.”
“My time is not long.”
“I know that. I wanted to say thanks to you for your service to me and the company. Again, I’m sorry about what happened between me and your husband.”
“I understand.”
Usher took her hand, bent over the bed, and kissed her on the forehead.
“Good-bye!” Usher said.
“Good-bye! And thanks!”
***
When Eliza opened her eyes on the morning of Dec. 8, 1811, she knew her time was short. When she awoke, she was coughing violently and, at the sound, Maria was instantly in her room.
“How do you feel?”
“Oh, Maria, I don’t have long. I want to say goodbye.”
Maria, tears welling in her eyes, seated herself beside the bed and took Eliza’s hand.
“I wanted to express my gratitude for your service over the past two years. My accomplishments in the theater would not have been possible without you.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“I no longer have earthly cares other than for the welfare of my children. Promise me you will ensure they go to good homes and be properly cared for.”
“I promise.”
“And mind Henry. He mistreats Eddie.”
“You have my word.”
“Now bring in Henry so I can say goodbye.”
Moments later, Henry was at his mother’s bedside.
“Remember to be a good boy, to love your brother, and to mind Maria. You’re the oldest, so I expect more from you.”
“I will, Mother. Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“When will you return?”
Eliza looked at Maria.
“I’m not sure.”
“But…”
Eliza motioned with her head for Maria to take Henry away.
“It’s time to go,” Maria said.
The child resisted.
“Where’s Mother going?”
“It’s time to go,” Maria said again, hurrying him out of the room.
Moments later, Maria returned with Edgar.
“Oh, dear sweet little Eddie. I fear I must leave you to this mad world.”
“Where are you going?”
“Away.”
“When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure.”
Eliza turned to Maria.
“Look in the drawer,” she said, indicating the bedside table, “and get me the book of Byron’s poems.”
Maria opened the drawer and took out a signed copy of Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. Eliza took the book and turned to Edgar.
“This is my greatest treasure,” she said. “I bought this two years ago when I was in London and heard Lord Byron read his poems. Now I want to give them to you.”
She turned to Maria.
“Maria, read the note on the back of the book.”
Maria read the note.
“To my darling son Eddie. May he never forget the immortal poems of Lord Byron.”
Edgar took the poems.
“Thank you, Mommy!”
Then she lay back on the bed. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Oh, Maria. My time has come. The final curtain is ringing down on my life. Now is the end of the third act.”
For a long moment, she launched into a spasm of coughing into one of the small towels Maria kept at her bedside. Finally, she stopped.
“Mommy, I love you,” Edgar said.
“I love you too.”
For a long moment, there was another spasm of coughing. Then, with seemingly helpless bewilderment, Eliza gazed into Maria’s face. Her eyes closed, her body went limp, and she fell back into the nest of pillows.
“Mommy? Mommy?” Edgar said, taking his mother’s hand and shaking it.
No response.
“Mommy! Mommy! Wake up!!
No response. Again, the child shook his mother’s hand.
“Mommy! Wake up!”
He looked to Maria for an answer
“Aunt Muddy, why won’t Mommy wake up?”
Maria did not answer.
For a long moment, Edgar turned to Maria for an answer.
There was none.
“My mommy is dead, isn’t she?”
Maria looked at him without speaking.
“Tell me! My mommy is dead. Isn’t she?”
Finally, she spoke.
“Your mother has gone to a better world.”
For a moment, the child looked into Maria’s eyes. Then, at the realization of death’s imminence, his eyes slowly filled with tears and suddenly, overcome with grief, he rushed into Maria’s arms and began sobbing.
**************************************************************
A Quiet Madness is available in ebook, paperback and hardback. It can be purchased at https://www.amazon.com/dp/1733350098
