Simply to read this note from Mr. Votaw made me ill all over and brought on a state of high nervous tension which usually possessed me when I came face to face with some new obstacle in my fight for Elizabeth Ann’s rights. I have never, as a matter of fact, solved the puzzle of who the strange man was who called in such a mysterious manner and asked if a “Mrs. Nan Britton Neilsen worked there,” and then disclaimed a desire to see her. The telephone operator’s description fitted Mr. Votaw, or perhaps George Christian.
The possibility that I might be “shadowed” simply because I possessed a secret which many people would be interested in protecting from public dissemination, filled me with a new fear—a fear hitherto unfelt: that of possible desire to destroy me and thus destroy my secret. I was the only living person who knew the intimate details of our love-story, Warren Harding’s and mine. And if such a thing should happen to me, my baby girl would lose her birthright, except as she would be told of it by my sister, who really knew pitifully little of the details. The mere thought of such a happening struck terror to my heart amounting to partial dementia at times when fatigue and despondency clutched at me, and I was becoming weaker and weaker physically as a result of my nightmarish thoughts. I must be strong. I must fight for Elizabeth Ann’s sake! I must shake off this state of weakness which was dragging me down and down, and down.
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Perhaps it was this crazed state of mentality which led me to construe Mr. Votaw’s letter, with its heavy underscoring, as a direct contumelious insinuation toward Elizabeth Ann and my claims for her, and perhaps it was what I thought might be my last desperate effort in her behalf which led me to write with the spirit which dominates the following letter:
My dear Mr. Votaw:
Thank you for your prompt reply.
It was difficult for me to believe that you would call and then for any reason be afraid to talk with me. But the idea of a call would be, in my estimation, a very excellent one. In fact, I cannot conceive of a brother’s or sister’s love taking the course yours and Mrs. Votaw’s has taken. I am frank to say that no matter what anyone might say about the lack of conventionality on my part or on that of Mr. Harding, they would never, never condone complete ignoring of responsibility to his own child. Nor do I mean that such shall be the case.
I was quite sincere when I wrote to you last fall that I should exhaust every effort to make you people—and that means all of the brothers and sisters of Mr. Harding—see your responsibility to Elizabeth Ann, and I mean to do so.
But I am and have been waiting for you to approach me, and I shall expect you to do so. I have been under a terrific financial strain and am about through trying to carry on alone. I need help and it should be provided. The very last time I talked with Mr. Harding in the White House he gave me every assurance that I should have ample financial assistance throughout Elizabeth Ann’s life, and, with his death, I am looking to his family to carry out his promises. And I do not mean to have her so ignored. It is highly inconceivable that you should adopt such attitude.
I shall expect to see one of you or both very soon, and I can assure you it would be gratifying to have the opportunity to tell you both things it would interest you to hear. If I do not hear from you to this effect, I shall proceed to go about in other ways to justify Elizabeth Ann’s claim to being cared for by her father’s people.