by Ginny Dye
Carrie shrugged, not sure her victory held any meaning for her. Was she not just playing a silly game? Then her body stiffened. So be it! If she was playing a game, it was surely better than the reality surrounding her at every turn. She pushed away the thought that she detested game playing.
“Mr. Cromwell, didn’t you say you wanted to go visit your friend, Mr. Lind, who lives north of the city?” Robert asked. He smiled broadly when Thomas nodded. “The John Marshall is in dock right now. I heard that it is leaving later this morning for Lynchburg. Carrie and I could take a trip on the John Marshall and have them drop us off at Lind’s landing. All of us could come back in your carriage.” He paused. “I also hear there is a new production at Metropolitan Hall tonight. I would be honored if you would accompany me, Carrie.”
Carrie smiled with delight. “The John Marshall! Isn’t that the wonderful packet boat?” Robert nodded. “And Metropolitan Hall? I’ve always wanted to go there!” She turned to her father, excitement gleaming from her eyes. “It sounds like a wonderful plan! What do you think?”
“I agree, Carrie. You’ll have a wonderful time on board the John Marshall. I was planning on spending the day with my friend, Lind. It’s important I do so in order to live up to my agreement with Governor Letcher.” He pushed back from the stable and stood. “I should be leaving soon. I’ll see you upriver.”
The bustling port at the end of 8th Street teemed with activity. Fashionably dressed passengers arrived at the landing both by carriage and by foot. The ticket office did a steady trade as baggage was passed up to the boat and carefully stowed by the smartly dressed crew.
Carrie almost danced as she made her way down the hill leading to the landing. She had decided to have a good day in spite of the turmoil boiling in her soul. “The John Marshall! I’ve heard so much about it.”
Robert merely smiled at her excitement. “I’ll be back in a moment with our tickets.”
Carrie took the opportunity to look around. The Kanawha Canal was a marvel to her. Built to make river travel safe, it had first extended seven miles to afford safe passage around the Richmond Falls. Packet boats now ran daily trips between the capitol city and Lynchburg, over 100 miles away. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it had taken to dig such a massive canal for that long of a distance.
“Daydreaming on such a beautiful day?”
Carrie opened her eyes and smiled into Robert’s teasing ones. “Not daydreaming. I’m just trying to imagine what it took to create this canal.”
“Most of it done by hand, too, with pick axe and shovel. Germans, Scotts and Irish, brought over and hired to do the job, did most of the work. Along with the help of hired out slaves.” Robert turned toward the boat. “I have the tickets. Are you ready to go on board?”
Carrie followed willingly, breathing in deep draughts of fresh air. The day could not have been more perfect. There was nothing to mar the blue flawlessness of the sky. The sun was warm, but promised to not be too hot. A light breeze ruffled her air and made her full skirts sway lightly.
“All aboard!”
Carrie hurried aboard, taking in all the details of the boat. The roof of the packet boat, open to the weather, looked like a roof-garden. Fourteen feet by ninety feet, it provided ample space for the passengers on board. Carrie knew the lower enclosed deck would be the source of supper, and would then be divided into sleeping compartments for men and women during the 33 hour trip. Sometime it would be fun to travel all the way to Lynchburg, but she was content for now.
“Will you be up for some dancing later, Miss Cromwell?”
“Dancing?” Carrie echoed, gazing in the direction Robert was indicating. She smiled with delight when she saw several men warming up their banjos and guitars. “How fun!”
“We’re off!”
The boat moved slowly as it was pushed under the bridge on 7th Street. Once clear of the bridge, horses were hitched to continue its slow travel until the John Marshall passed the crowd of boats moored near the edge of the city. Carrie laughed with delight when the horses broke into a trot and the boat responded with a lively jerk. Thrown off balance, she made no protest when Robert reached out to steady her with his hand. She merely smiled at him when he continued to let it rest on her arm. She leaned into the railing and watched as the cut-water threw up its spray. As they rounded Penitentiary Hill, she looked up and caught one last glimpse of the city before it disappeared.
Carrie turned around and noticed most of the men had drifted off into little conversation knots. Robert was watching them with a gleam in his eye. “Want to join them?”
“Not on your life,” Robert responded quickly. He took Carrie by the arm and led her to a bench situated on the aft of the boat. “I’ll be back with some cold lemonade in just a minute.”
Carrie watched while he disappeared down the stairs leading to the lower deck and then turned her attention to the rest of the people on deck. Packet boats were still the preferred mode of travel for most well-bred Richmonders, but her father told her the reliable old boats were soon to be outdone by the railroad. Carrie knew the train was much faster but it had none of the romanticism of the old boats. She watched as young girls and women gathered around tables for backgammon, all the time well aware of the activities of eligible young men on board. Knots of men lounged against the railing as they debated and argued.
“I tell you, if Seward is elected the whole country will fall into ruin!”
Carrie frowned as bits of a conversation floated over to where she was sitting. She smiled with relief when Robert returned with a cold glass of lemonade and reached for it eagerly. She was determined nothing was going to ruin the magic of her day. Just then an outburst of music sounded from the fore deck.
“I think that’s our signal, Miss Cromwell,” Robert said as he reached for her hand and led her to the front of the deck. Minutes later a rousing version of the Virginia Reel turned the deck into a kaleidoscope of changing colors as bright dresses flashed through the figures.
“Enough!” Carrie laughed breathlessly as she grabbed Robert by the hand and led him to the railing after eight straight dances. “It’s too warm out here for this!”
“Ah, Miss Cromwell, you disappoint me. I thought dancing was in your soul.”
“And I’ve always heard it is quite improper for a young lady to sweat like a horse in the presence of a young gentleman.”
The bantering continued between the two as the packet boat forged up the river. Luxuriant green pastures and hills lined the shores. Trees and brush formed a veritable forest in some places and then would thin and disappear as another of the majestic James River plantations would claim its superior position on a passing hill. The sun hit high noon and then began its westerly descent as the two talked.
“Lind’s Landing!”
Carrie started and laughed. “I can’t believe we’re already here! Look! There’s my father with Mr. Lind.” She smiled and looked up into Robert’s eyes. “Thank you. I had a wonderful time.”
Within minutes she was being ushered into the cool confines of Lind’s opulent plantation manor. A servant was waiting to take her to a room where she could freshen herself. She had instructions to appear for dinner in thirty minutes.
“No talk of what we discussed this afternoon, Lind.” Thomas lit his cigar and sat back in his chair. He hastened to explain when his friend looked at him, puzzled. “Carrie has about had her fill of it for now. Something is bothering her, but I’m blamed if I know what it is. For now, I’m going to give her what she wants.” He paused. “We’ve discussed what I came to talk about anyway.”
Lind laughed. “I think you misread my puzzled look. I had no intention of talking politics at the supper table. My wife would have my head. Not to mention that she wouldn’t understand a word of it. I don’t think women and politics mix. Do you?”
Thomas spoke smoothly, not wishing to offend his host. “Carrie has always had an interest in politics. I have seen no reason to discourage it. Many times she hel
ps me see things more clearly.”
The ringing of the dinner bell saved him from further discussion. He didn’t expect his older friend to understand.
Carrie enjoyed the meal with the Linds, but kept a close eye on the clock. Robert, too, watched the time piece in his pocket, and after an hour of easy conversation, he pushed back from the table. “I’m sorry to end such a delightful meal, but if we are to make our performance tonight, we must be going.”
Carrie flashed him a look of gratitude.
“Oh, are you attending a performance at the Marshall Theater tonight?”
Robert shook his head and smiled easily at his attractive host. “Not tonight, Mrs. Lind. Our tickets are for Metropolitan Hall.”
Carrie almost smiled at the slightly patronizing air she assumed. She was well aware that well-bred Virginians considered the lighter amusement of Metropolitan Hall to be somewhat below their cultured refinement. “I am quite looking forward to it, Mrs. Lind,” Carrie interjected as she stood from her place at the table.
“I’m sure you are, dear.” Mrs. Lind managed to keep her voice pleasant.
Carrie exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Robert and found herself feeling once again the glow of excitement that being with him brought. He was everything she had ever thought a man would be. Doubt raised its ugly head as a vision of the night before flashed in her head, but she resolutely pushed it away.
Dusk had deepened the shadows of the city. Gas lights flickered, and then glowed with light, as Carrie and Robert rolled down the street in her father’s carriage, with Miles driving. She listened as Robert played tour guide.
“Metropolitan Hall used to be the First Presbyterian Church. When its congregation moved to a new building, it was bought and turned into a theater.”
Carrie was content to sit quietly and listen. She was tired from her day on the river, but looked forward to the night.
“Have you ever been to a panorama?” Robert asked. Her blank look answered his question. “You’re in for a treat,” he grinned. “It’s somewhat like a large painting that is slowly unwound. There is usually wonderful music and a lecture.”
The carriage rolled to a stop, and Carrie looked up in appreciation at the smart two-story brick structure with its charming third story cupola adorning the front. She felt the magic of the day envelope her once again as she glided up the steps at Robert’s side. Admiring glances told her they made a dashing couple.
The evening passed in a haze of delight. It was easy to understand why panoramas were so popular - ancient cities, ruins, sea views, moonlight, winter and summer scenes, fire and volcanic eruptions came to life as the music swelled around them. Lifelike scenes of midnight mass at the Milan Cathedral and Belshazzar’s fast at the court of Babylon highlighted the show. A lively lecture kept them absorbed in what they were seeing. Finally, as the last scene unfurled and the music died, Carrie reluctantly came back to the present.
“What a wonderful day!” Carrie murmured as she leaned back against the carriage seat.
Just then a flurry of movement on the sidewalk drew her attention. She looked up just in time to see a poorly dressed black man forced from the sidewalk by a large group of commonly dressed white laborers. He stumbled and almost fell into one of the many carriages still clogging the streets at this late hour. Carrie gasped, and then breathed a sigh of relief as he regained his balance and stepped back to safety.
“Hey nigger! Don’t you know the sidewalks are for white people?” one of them yelled. He stepped down from the sidewalk, his brawny height towering over the slightly built black man.
“Miles! Stop!” Carrie commanded. She sensed Robert turn to her in protest but he didn’t say anything. Carrie watched as the black man kept his eyes resolutely on the ground and began to amble off down the road.
“Hey, you!” the antagonizer yelled, moving to block his path. “I ain’t done with you yet! You ain’t showed me your pass to be out on the streets.” He looked up, became aware of his audience, and took on a more swaggering tone. “Let’s see the pass, nigger.”
Wordlessly, the black man reached into his pockets and pulled out the demanded piece of paper. Slowly, he handed it over and waited while the larger man looked at it.
“This says you’re a free man, nigger. That true?” He leered at the black man. “Yeah, well don’t be too sure you’re gonna stay that way! Niggers ain’t good for nothing but to be slaves!” He shoved the piece of paper at him and snarled, “Get going, nigger. And stay out of my way.” He watched while the man pocketed his paper and resumed his travel, careful to stay in the streets and away from the offending sidewalk. Then he looked up in triumph at his audience. Carrie fixed him with as withering of a gaze as she could manage. Discomfited the abuser looked down, muttered a curse, and then joined his friends on the sidewalk. “Let’s go, boys!”
Silence fell on the carriage. Carrie said nothing when Miles quietly moved the horses along without a command from her.
“Is something wrong with my daughter?”
Both Thomas and Robert stared up the steps after Carrie’s retreating back. She had thanked Robert very graciously for a wonderful day, but had chosen to retire to her room instead of joining the two men for a cup of hot tea.
Robert shrugged helplessly. “Just when I think I have her figured out...”
“Ah…” Thomas took the younger man’s arm and led him to a secluded table in the almost deserted restaurant. “There is your first mistake, my boy. Some women you may figure out. Not Carrie. She will always surprise you!”
Robert nodded. “That’s one of the things that intrigues me, sir.” He paused for a long moment before he finally looked into Thomas’ eyes. “I love your daughter, sir.”
Thomas nodded and smiled gently. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”
“You don’t mind, sir?”
Thomas laughed. “What I think doesn’t really matter. But no, I don’t mind. I think you’re a fine young man.” He paused. “You have your work cut out for you, though. Carrie is an independent spirit.”
Robert nodded. “You don’t need to tell me that. It’s another one of the things I love about her...”
“But...”
“But we seem to keep butting heads on a single issue.” The frustration in Robert’s voice was keen. Thomas waited quietly while he searched for the right words. “It’s the slavery issue, Mr. Cromwell. I think your daughter is planning on becoming an abolitionist!” he said dramatically.
Thomas laughed heartily. “Hardly that, Robert! My Carrie may be questioning some things, but she will ultimately come out on the side of what is right. She will understand that however unpleasant it may be at times, it is our destiny to be in control of the slaves.”
“Do you really think so, sir? I have hopes she is just going through a stage.” He paused for another long moment. “I hope to make her my wife someday, sir,” he blurted. “But she will have to be willing to accept the condition of slavery on my plantation. That is how I have always lived, and I have no intention of changing it now.”
Thomas eyed the younger man perceptively. “It could make life as a plantation owner very difficult if your wife was at odds with you over our peculiar institution,” he said dryly.
Robert nodded and continued. “She has many dreams, sir. I don’t know what will become of my love for her.” Then he straightened and said firmly. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, Mr. Cromwell.”
Thomas heard the slightly desperate tone of his voice, but chose not to comment on that. His heart went out to the handsome young man sitting across from him. He would listen, but he wouldn’t interfere. Carrie would make up her own mind. As she always had, he thought wryly. He leaned across the table and abruptly changed the topic. “I bought a house today.”
Robert blinked at him in surprise. “A house, sir?”
Thomas nodded. “A three-story brick on Church Hill.” He answered the unspoken question in Robert’s eyes. “I have promised
Governor Letcher I will do all I can to help control the secessionism craze sweeping the South. I will do what I can from the plantation, but I’m sure there is going to be an increased need for me to be in Richmond. It made sense for me to buy a house.”
Robert waited, watching him closely.
Thomas paused, well aware Robert hadn’t bought his story. Finally he shrugged. “If there’s trouble... If all this foolishness leads us into a war, I want Carrie and her mother to have a safe place to live. I’m afraid the plantation would not provide that for them.”
The two men stared into their cups as they let their silent thoughts engulf them.
NINETEEN
Abigail met Thomas at the door with a warm kiss. “Welcome home, Thomas!”
Thomas returned the kiss and held her close for a long moment.
Carrie watched them and then ran up the stairs to hug her mother. “It was wonderful, Mama! Richmond is even more beautiful than I remembered.”
Abigail laughed. “I’m glad you’re home! I had no desire to go along on the trip but I missed you both.” She squeezed Thomas’ arm. “The house seemed empty without your warm laugh, dear.” The three walked arm-in-arm into the house while Carrie chattered non-stop about the last several days.
Carrie interrupted her own chatter as they entered the parlor. “Mama, I forgot to tell you the best news! I’m going to Philadelphia!”
Abigail settled herself into a high wingback chair, listened intently while Carrie filled her in on the details, and then looked at Thomas with raised eyebrows.
Thomas nodded, not saying anything until he had filled his pipe and had smoke curling toward the ceiling. “I spoke with Natalie’s mother about it before we left Richmond. Her sister is an upstanding citizen in Philadelphia and has wanted Natalie to visit for years. I daresay they will experience everything Philadelphia has to offer. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”
