Storm Clouds Rolling In

by Ginny Dye

  “Robert’s friend!” Carrie gasped. She reddened when she recalled his earlier comment... the only girl who is already spoken for. What had Robert told this complete stranger?

  Matthew, aware of her embarrassment, bowed deeply. “May I have this dance, Miss Cromwell?”

  Carrie stared up at him and nodded. She knew she should say something, but all she could do was move toward him, her thoughts still on his surprising announcement. He took her lightly in his arms, and they waltzed off to the music. The music and the dancing helped Carrie regain her composure. Finally, she was able to look up and say in a natural voice, “You must think me quite an idiot.”

  Matthew looked down with a laugh. “Hardly that. You were caught by surprise and I have a distinct feeling I spoke out of turn when I said you were already spoken for.”

  Carrie flushed again but didn’t break eye contact. “As far as I know, I am still a free woman, Mr. Justin,” she said calmly. “Robert has told me about you. You are a journalist, I believe?”

  Matthew nodded. “That I am. It is probably the only reason I am at this dance, as well. People in high places like to court the press in hopes that anything we may write about them will be more favorable. Country boys from the western hills of Virginia would not likely make it to this grand event otherwise.”

  Carrie laughed at his dryness of his voice, suddenly aware Philadelphia was full of people she knew she could be friends with. She liked the direct way they spoke - not concerned about the social protocol and expectations that governed southern society. Then her expression sobered.

  “Did I say something to offend you?”

  “No, of course not.” Carrie forced herself to smile. They continued to dance, but she knew Matthew was hoping for an explanation. She shrugged and tried to speak lightly. “I find in difficult to believe I may soon be at war with people I have discovered I like so much.”

  Matthew regarded her with serious eyes. “You believe there will be war?”

  “I’m afraid so, Mr. Justin.”

  “Please call me Matthew,” he insisted. He waited for her nod and then continued. “Robert told me you were different. He said you see things most women - especially Southern women - prefer to ignore. I believe he was right.”

  Carrie met his eyes squarely. “Ignoring something will not make it go away. I would rather prepare myself, then wake up one day realizing all my delusions had been shattered by reality.”

  “I quite agree, but I made myself a promise tonight,” he said firmly. “Just for this one night I have decided to pretend my world will always remain the same.” He smiled down at her. “Will you play my game with me?”

  Carrie smiled and dipped into a low curtsy. “I would be honored to play your game, kind sir. I will do my best to abide by your rules.”

  Matthew threw back his head in a hearty laugh, and then when the music stopped, led her over to a small window seat overlooking the city. “Where are you staying, Carrie?”

  “With a most wonderful woman. Her name is Abby Livingston.”

  Matthew nodded with a smile. “I know her well. She is indeed a wonderful woman!”

  “You know Aunt Abby?”

  “I’m afraid he does,” an amused voice broke in. Abby stepped up and laid a hand affectionately on Matthew’s arm. “This one is special, Matthew. Treat her well.”

  “Have no fear, Abby. I would have met her tomorrow even if I hadn’t had the privilege tonight.”

  Carrie laughed at her puzzled expression. “This is Robert’s old college buddy that I was telling you about.”

  “I hardly think I’m old yet!” Matthew protested.

  Carrie and Abby laughed, and Abby linked her arm through Matthew’s. “What brings you to the top of the hill, Matthew?”

  “Instead of down in the streets and gutters where I usually work?” Matthew smiled and bowed deeply. “You are now looking at the new leading political reporter for our fair newspaper.”

  “Matthew Justin! That’s wonderful!” Abby exclaimed, giving him a hug. “Congratulations.”

  Carrie watched the exchange, wondering what it was all about. Abby turned to explain.

  “Matthew and I met three years ago when I was fighting the men who tried to destroy my business. I’m afraid they used some rather unscrupulous ways to try and promote their agenda.”

  “Rather unscrupulous?” Matthew laughed and picked up the story. “Those men were sending thugs after your aunt, trying to scare her out of the business district. I happened upon Abby one night when she was being held at knifepoint in an alley. I was able to persuade the gentleman he was in the wrong place.”

  The look in his eyes told Carrie his persuasion had been a little rough.

  “After that, Matthew helped me fight my opponents with the paper,” Abby continued. “He wrote articles about the attacks being made on me. Not long after, they mysteriously ended. Men who had turned their noses up at me before were suddenly willing to do business with me. I don’t know what I would have done if Matthew hadn’t come along.”

  Matthew grinned self-consciously as he regarded Abby with obvious affection. “Carrie, you couldn’t find a better friend. If she thinks your special, your estimation has risen even higher in my already admiring eyes.” Then he smiled. “I see another man heading this direction to claim you for the next dance. Shall I pick you up tomorrow morning around ten for our tour of the university?”

  Carrie nodded. “That would be wonderful, Matthew. I shall look forward to it.”

  Matthew grinned down at her and then turned to Abby. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Livingston?”

  Carrie was quickly claimed and drawn into another waltz. She released herself to the magic of the evening, allowing all negative thoughts to flee her mind. This was an evening made for dance and laughter.

  Then, as the night was drawing to a close, reality reared its ugly head once more.

  “My I have this dance, Miss Cromwell?”

  Carrie looked up into the icy blue eyes staring down at her. “Well, I....”

  Without waiting for an answer the stranger took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Carrie swallowed her misgivings and followed without protest. She noticed Matthew watching from across the ballroom.

  “I hear you are from Richmond, Virginia, Miss Cromwell.”

  “Yes.” Why did Carrie suddenly feel she was being interrogated? “And you are from Philadelphia, Mr…?” Coolly, she inspected the young man standing before her. His classic, blond, good looks were marred by the icy intensity of his eyes and the arrogance of his bearing.

  “My apologies, Miss Cromwell. My name is Alex Morning. And yes, I am a Philadelphian.” The mocking tone of his voice sharpened suddenly. “I take it you are a plantation owner’s daughter.”

  “And what would make you think that?” Something told Carrie she must tread lightly. All of her mother’s fears about what could happen to her in the North suddenly reared their heads to taunt her.

  “Come, Miss Cromwell. Surely it is not something you are ashamed of.”

  Carrie pulled away and came to a standstill. Morning matched her actions, staring down at her with undisguised hostility. “If there is something you want to say to me, then say it, Mr. Morning. I am not interested in games.”

  A faint light of appreciation lit his features at her directness, but he was not to be deterred. “I simply find it difficult to believe that someone with your obvious intelligence could be a slave owner.” The contempt in his voice was obvious. “Of course, intelligence is of no importance if you choose to ignore the truth.”

  “And just what is the truth, Mr. Morning?” Carrie demanded icily.

  “The truth is that you people in the South are subjugating an entire race of people to exploit your own selfish desires. Exploitation that includes beating, torture and selling loved ones away from each other. It is the work of the devil!”

  Carrie pulled away from the venom in his voice, but Morning wasn’t done. His voice rose an
d carried through the ballroom as he continued his attack. “The time is coming soon when God will have his way! The tyranny of the slave master will be ended! The devil will be defeated!”

  His last words ended with a triumphant laugh that caused shivers to course through Carrie’s entire body.

  “That will be quite enough, Morning!” Carrie looked up with relief as Matthew loomed at her side.

  “Think our little southern belle can’t handle a dose of the truth, Justin? She’s going to learn it sooner or later.” Morning smiled triumphantly as a few murmured agreements rose on the air.

  Carrie was suddenly very frightened. She had heard about mobs attacking people from the South because of slavery. Clutching Matthew’s arm, she welcomed the feel of his strong hand engulfing hers. She fought to control her trembling. It would never do to let the stranger sense her fear, or let him know how much his words had pierced her. She struggled to control the tears threatening to overflow. She had wanted so much to leave everything behind for just one magical evening. Were there to be no more magical evenings in America? Suddenly, she felt very tired.

  Matthew turned to lead her off the floor, but sent one final shot. “Hatred does nothing but beget hatred, Morning. Your brand of hatred and anger is no different than the emotions that enforce slavery. They both promote violence and misunderstanding.” He sent the other man a withering look as his next words rang out loud and clear. “The only way for this country to survive is for people to start thinking with their hearts and minds instead of with that portion of their body they sit on.”

  Ripples of laughter met his loud proclamation. Morning swore, shoved past them, and strode out of the room.

  “I’m afraid you have made a rather nasty enemy, Matthew.” Abby’s quiet voice sounded next to them. She reached over and took Carrie’s icy hand in her own. “I’m so sorry, dear.”

  Matthew shrugged. “I have no interest in him being a friend, so he might as well be an enemy. I meant every word I said.”

  “What exactly was that all about?” Carrie murmured, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.

  Just then Natalie and Sally hurried over. “Carrie! Are you alright?” Natalie cried, her eyes large with fright.

  Carrie nodded, the tears she had controlled until now, brimming in her eyes.

  Abby held her hand tighter. “There are people who feel very strongly that slavery is wrong. However wrongly, they feel justified in believing nothing is off limits in their efforts to end it – even harassment of visiting Southern young ladies,” she said heavily. “I am so sorry you had to endure that, Carrie.”

  Carrie managed a smile and brushed her tears away. “I’m alright, Aunt Abby. Matthew came to my rescue.” She patted Matthew’s arm and then removed her hand from Aunt Abby’s grip. She was starting to feel more normal. “Thank you very much, Matthew. I hope I haven’t caused trouble for you.”

  Matthew shrugged with a tight grin. “Like I said, Morning is no friend of mine.” Then he relaxed and gave a more natural smile. “Besides, I promised Robert I would look out for you. I would hate to have to answer to him if something were to happen to you.”

  The magic of the evening was shattered for all. After thanking their hosts, the four women headed for their carriage.

  “May I accompany you home, ladies?” Matthew appeared at the side of the carriage as the driver picked up the reins.

  Carrie didn’t miss the look he exchanged with Aunt Abby over their heads. Aunt Abby nodded briskly. “That is very thoughtful of you, Matthew. Thank you for your offer.”

  Carrie was nervous all the way home. She knew Matthew was afraid there would be repercussions from the evening. She did not breathe normally again until she was safe behind the doors of Aunt Abby’s home. Even then, rest did not come easy when she retired to her bedroom. She had so wanted to refute the horrible words Alex Morning had hurled at her. She knew there were many slaves who were never abused and who were cared for by their owners. She also knew the accusations he had poured out like hot acid tonight, were in many cases true. It was a long time before she drifted off into a restless sleep.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Carrie walked slowly by Aunt Abby’s side, savoring the smells and sights of the

  Marketplace. Just like so many things in Philadelphia, this was a new experience for her. Fruits and vegetables were all grown on Cromwell Plantation. She had always taken the abundance for granted. It was a new experience to see the myriad varieties spread out under the tin roofs of the market, vendors hawking their ware as zealously as southerners sold tobacco. Elegantly dressed women, along with more commonly dressed house servants, poked and examined the produce until they found what met their discriminating tastes. Huge baskets hung heavily on their arms as the fresh food threatened to overflow. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. The throng of people crowding the aisles had chosen to come early before the searing July heat made staying in the house with a cold glass of lemonade much more appealing than strolling among the market stands.

  “I’m glad you came with me, Carrie.”

  “Oh, so am I, Aunt Abby. This is absolutely fascinating.” Then Carrie sighed. “I’ve had such a wonderful time. It’s going to be so hard to go home tomorrow.” She knew the hardest thing was going to be leaving Aunt Abby. She had grown to love her deeply. “I can hardly believe it’s already been a month.”

  “I’m going to miss you, Carrie.”

  Carrie brushed at the tears welling up in her eyes as she turned to the older woman. “I’m going to miss you, too.” She paused. “You’ve become like a mother to me. I love my mother, but...” She shook her head. “She has no idea what to do with a daughter like me so her goal in life has become to change me so I will fit the mold she has made for me.”

  “That would seem a plan destined for failure,” Aunt Abby observed dryly.

  Carrie managed a laugh. “I’m afraid I’m quite a disappointment to her.”

  Abby looked directly into her eyes. “I’m sure your mother loves you very much. At some point in time she will become comfortable enough with herself to accept you just the way you are. In the meantime, you can be nothing but who God created you to be. Some people will be comfortable with it - others will not. The important thing is that you be comfortable with yourself.”

  Carrie nodded, knowing she spoke from experience. “Thank you, Aunt Abby. I’ll do my best.”

  A comfortable silence fell between the two women. Abby picked up a head of lettuce and two tomatoes. “I’m done here, Carrie. We’ll go home a different way. Since it’s your last day here, you might as well squeeze in everything you can.”

  Heat was already beginning to radiate off the pavement as the two women strolled down the road.

  “Did you get what you came to Philadelphia for, Carrie?” Abby asked.

  Carrie looked at her quickly. She would not even consider dodging the question. She trusted Aunt Abby. “I think so,” she said slowly. “Matthew was wonderful to show me around the school. I know college and medical school are what I want...”

  “But...?”

  Carrie shook her head firmly. “No buts. I’m just not sure of the timing. I was disappointed when we found no one to talk to at the college – especially another female. Matthew encouraged me, but also warned me it would be difficult.” She paused and thought back to the intense longing she had experienced when she was walking the tree-covered sidewalks of the university. Her desire to learn had been fueled by the spirit of those who had gone before. Even though she hadn’t seen any other women she could feel them urging her to join their ranks in breaking the status quo. It had both scared and exhilarated her. “I will talk with my father about it when we get home. I know he will support me and in the end he will have mother make a show of supporting me too.”

  “Your father sounds like a very special man,” Abby said thoughtfully. “He is obviously a very wise man - and also a brave one. It is hard to go against tradition. Especially for a man.
Especially when it is his daughter going against the tradition.”

  “My father is wonderful.”

  “But...?”

  Carrie laughed. “Does there have to be a but... with everything I say.”

  Aunt Abby shrugged. “No, but when I hear one I’m going to ask.”

  Carrie looked at her and smiled. She knew she would never have to worry about Aunt Abby saying what was on her mind. They rounded the corner and started down a long street of brick row houses. The postage stamp yards still fascinated her, but they held no drawing power. She loved city life but the freedom of her childhood would always demand more space for her restless spirit. She would feel caged in one of these yards.

  “Aunt Abby, do you believe slavery is right?” Carrie asked suddenly. There! She had wanted to ask that question for the entire month. She had let dances, the theater, museums and luncheons occupy her time, but the thought had never been far from her mind. She had talked to her new friend about endless topics but had always managed to avoid the one most troubling her.

  Abby took a deep breath, stopped walking, and turned to gaze steadily into her eyes. “’What do you think?”

  Carrie shook her head. “Not this time,” she said firmly. “I know I have to make my own decision about this, but I really want to know what you think and believe.”

  Abby took Carrie’s arm and led her to a bench underneath a spreading maple tree. Once they were seated, she gazed, deep in thought, at a large brick building across from where they were sitting. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. “I am a member of the Philadelphia Abolitionist Society.”

  Carrie was speechless. She could do nothing more than stare at the woman across from her. Aunt Abby was an abolitionist? Abby waited patiently. Finally Carrie spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Would it have mattered?”

  Carrie pondered the question. Would it have mattered? Would it have changed the fact that their hearts had bonded so closely? Would it have kept her from loving this woman who had become like another mother to her? “I don’t know,” she said slowly, then caught the flash of hurt on Abby’s face. She reached out a hand and took the other woman’s in it. “It wouldn’t have changed how much I’ve grown to love, admire and respect you even one iota.”