Looking To The Future (#11 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series)

by Ginny Dye

  “That’s stupid,” Janie snorted.

  Matthew smiled briefly. “I agree, my dear, but I’m doing my best to answer Marietta’s question as to why men feel they have to maintain control of women.”

  “You’re right,” Janie muttered. “I’m sorry. I do want to hear what you have to say.”

  “Men have an irritational fear of women,” Matthew continued. “Over the years, I have wondered if it is nothing more than a man’s innate need to always win. Culture has taught men they are superior.” He raised a hand. “Please do not attack the messenger,” he pleaded. “I am smart enough to not believe that, but there are far too many men who do.” He paused again. “Alice’s husband is a good example of that. He believes he is superior to Alice, so he uses his strength and connections to control her. I’m quite sure Alice is more intelligent than him, or any of the men who kidnapped her, but she was no match for their brute strength. So, they won.”

  “Not for long,” Carrie growled.

  “And that’s where women have the advantage,” Matthew pointed out. “You will use your intellect to outthink your opponents.”

  “So far, we don’t seem to be winning,” Marietta said angrily. “Our superior intellect has not won us the right to vote, or even to have control over our lives.”

  “That’s not true,” Jeremy argued. “It’s a battle, but Mrs. Packard has gotten laws changed for women. She is close to regaining custody of her children, and she is committed to changing laws in every state.”

  “That’s true,” Marietta acknowledged. “But every single right shouldn’t be such a battle.”

  “Perhaps, but that will not change reality. You can’t quit fighting,” Matthew said firmly. “Take Janie, for instance. The only reason we are married is because the laws changed enough to allow her to divorce an abusive husband. There were times that wasn’t possible,” he reminded everyone. “Men are not going to change. Oh, there are enlightened ones, like the men in this room, but most men are never going to see things the way you see them. They are afraid of losing, but that is exactly what will have to happen—they will have to lose. Women can’t wait for men to view things their way, because men will never want to lose their power.”

  “It gets so exhausting,” Marietta complained.

  “Yes,” Carrie agreed, “but then I think about how long slavery existed in America. It took a lot of people willing to fight for a very long time to change that. I have to believe that if we refuse to give up, someday it will change.” She thought back to the almost identical statement she had made to Sarge the day they met. She was determined to be one woman who would never give up.

  Janie laid a hand on her stomach. “It has to change,” she said fiercely. She exchanged a long look with Marietta. “If I have a daughter, I’m determined that someday she will have the right to vote, and to have a say in the control of her own life.”

  Marietta nodded. “And I have determined the same thing for Sarah Rose. Even if I never have the right to vote, I will never quit fighting for her to someday have that right.”

  “And then we pray they take advantage of it,” Carrie added.

  “What do you mean?” Janie demanded.

  “Sarge took me to the clinic this morning,” Carrie explained. “Like always, we talked the whole way. He is discouraged by how many black people are not taking advantage of their freedom. They are not going to school. They are not trying to get better jobs. They seem to think because they are free now, that things should get better, instead of them making them better.” Carrie thought through her next statement. “The slaves wanted their freedom, but most of them didn’t know how to fight for it, or they couldn’t. Suddenly, one day, they were free. They appreciate it, but they don’t know what to do with it.” She frowned. “From what Sarge said, many of them are doing nothing with it.”

  Marietta nodded her head thoughtfully. “And you think women might do the same thing,” she stated.

  Carrie shrugged. “There are a lot of women who are fighting for the right to vote, along with other rights, but there are far more who seem oblivious to the whole issue. They either don’t know how to fight for it, they are too afraid to, or they simply don’t care.” She paused. “Either way, if you suddenly end up with something you had no part in achieving, I wonder if you attach as much value to it as we would.” Her thoughts continued to whirl. “And then, what about our daughters? And our granddaughters? Will they value it? Will they know what battles were fought to win their rights?”

  Thoughtful silence filled the room.

  “I’ll make sure Sarah Rose knows what it took,” Marietta vowed. She opened her mouth to say more when a demanding cry floated down the stairs from above. Moments later, another joined the chorus. Marietta smiled. “The twins are saying this dinner party has ended. At least my part in it. The rest of you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  George pushed back his chair. “I’ve got to get home. I have a boss who will not be pleased if I’m not at my best in the morning.” He grinned at Jeremy, glancing at his pocket watch. “My rented carriage will be arriving any moment.” A rattle of wheels on the pavement outside confirmed his statement.

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” Carrie said.

  “Thank you,” George replied. He put on his coat and stepped outside.

  Carrie joined him, grabbing her own coat as they walked onto the porch. She held up her hand to indicate to the driver to please wait. She shrugged into her coat and then turned to George. “How are you?” she asked quietly.

  George chuckled. “I will admit it was a shock for Marietta to pick my story from that book, but when it became obvious that no one had a clue it was about me, it was rather fun. I loved the conversation it spurred about women’s rights.”

  Carrie thought of something. “George, if women get the right to vote, and win other important rights, would you revert to living as a woman?” she asked, careful to keep her voice low.

  George looked at her sadly. “I hate to burst your bubble, Carrie, but I doubt we will live that long.” He squeezed her hand, walked down to the carriage, and stepped in.

  Carrie watched until he was out of sight, hoping with all her heart he was wrong.

  “Is it too late for a walk?”

  Carrie whirled around when Anthony’s voice sounded behind her. “A walk?”

  “I realize it’s cold, but I have always loved walking through the city in a snowstorm.”

  Carrie glanced up. “I hate to state the obvious, Anthony, but it’s not snowing.”

  “Yet.”

  Carrie shook her head. “It’s not going to snow.”

  “Would you care to place a bet on that?” Anthony teased.

  Carrie stared up again, looking for the stars she had seen earlier. She was astonished to discover they had been swallowed by thick clouds so low they reflected the street lamps. “Oh my,” she murmured. She realized she was shivering. “I was dreaming about spring this afternoon. I had my window open.”

  Anthony chuckled. “That wasn’t a dream, Carrie. That was a delusion.”

  Carrie laughed. “I know, but a woman can hope. I realize winter has not loosened its grip on Philadelphia yet.” She stared up again. “But I was at least hoping for a break in the weather so I can get to New York.” Alarm quickened her breath. “I have to catch that train in the morning.”

  Anthony nodded. “We have to catch that train. I don’t think it’s going to be a heavy snowstorm, but I believe we’ll have a few inches by morning. Have you made arrangements for a carriage to take you to the station?”

  “Us to the station,” Carrie corrected, suddenly very glad he was coming with her. She smiled when his green eyes glowed brighter. “And, yes, Sarge will be here at six thirty tomorrow morning.”

  Anthony held out his arm. “It doesn’t have to be a long walk,” he said persuasively.

  Carrie considered. “A short one,” she agreed. “But I need to get my hat and gloves in case your fantasy of
snow actually happens.”

  Anthony grinned, pulled his other arm from behind his back, and handed over her hat and gloves. “At your service, ma’am.”

  Carrie couldn’t contain her smile as she donned the hat and gloves, buttoned her coat the rest of the way, and slipped her hand through his offered arm. They were less than a block away from the house when the first flakes began to fall.

  Anthony leaned in close to her ear. “Good thing you didn’t make that bet.”

  “I am not a gambling woman,” Carrie replied serenely. “I never make a bet unless I am one hundred percent sure I’m right. If I ever agree to bet with you, you should walk away from it.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “It’s information,” Carrie retorted with a smile. “If you choose to ignore it, I will be more than happy to accept your money.”

  Anthony laughed and tucked her hand more securely into his arm. “I have been forewarned,” he said solemnly.

  Nothing more was said for a long time. Carrie appreciated that Anthony understood she needed to settle her thoughts before leaving for New York in the morning. The snow and the lateness of the hour had driven people inside for the night. The quiet of the empty streets, save an occasional carriage rumbling past, soothed her soul.

  They were on their way back before Anthony spoke. “How is the clinic coming?”

  “Wonderfully!” Carrie said, eager to talk about it now. “We have equipped it entirely. We’ve seen a few people who wandered in, but we’re not really accepting patients until a week from now. We’re still setting up our procedures and protocols.”

  Anthony cocked a brow at her. “And how do you know how to set up procedures and protocols for a homeopathic clinic? Is that a required class?”

  “It should be,” Carrie said, “and I’ve encouraged Dr. Strikener to mandate it, but right now it isn’t. Thankfully, Florence’s father was willing to assist me in setting up an office. He has been invaluable.”

  “Florence?”

  Carrie explained the situation with her former medical school friends.

  “Amazing,” Anthony murmured. He pulled her to a stop and gazed down at her in the dim light of a street lantern. “You are quite a woman, Mrs. Carrie Borden.”

  Carrie didn’t flinch this time when she heard Robert’s surname. “I feel rather the same about you, Mr. Anthony Wallington.”

  Anthony’s eyes settled on her lips, but then he glanced at all the houses surrounding them. “Do I risk destroying your reputation if I kiss you openly on the streets of Philadelphia?”

  Carrie chuckled. “Have you still not figured out I’m not concerned about risking my reputation?”

  Anthony’s answer was to wrap her in his arms and silence her with a kiss.

  *****

  Carrie was tired when she and Anthony stepped out into the dark, frigid morning, relieved to see Sarge waiting patiently in the carriage. She handed him a hot cup of coffee and a napkin filled with two ham biscuits. “I figured you would appreciate these this morning.”

  Sarge reached for the cup eagerly. “You’re a good woman, plantation girl,” he said gruffly before taking a drink. His eyes closed with pleasure.

  Anthony eyed her. “Plantation girl?”

  Sarge finished drinking and then nodded. “She’s right good at telling when snow be coming.”

  “Not last night,” Anthony replied. “She missed this snow entirely.”

  “A woman can’t always be right,” Carrie said lightly, loving the banter. “It only makes the men in her life more insecure.”

  Sarge and Anthony both hooted with laughter, and then Sarge picked up the reins to urge his mare forward. “Get up, Nellie,” he called. “There be a train to catch.”

  *****

  One hour later, Carrie and Anthony were settled into their train car, watching as the station bustle disappeared behind them. Carrie sighed and dropped her head back against her seat.

  “Tired?” Anthony asked.

  “Exhausted,” Carrie admitted. She narrowed her eyes at him. “But you must be, too. It took you all day to get to Philadelphia from Richmond yesterday. Now we’ll be on this train until late afternoon.”

  “Yes,” Anthony agreed, “but I find being with a beautiful woman always gives me energy.”

  “Any beautiful woman?” Carrie teased. She knew she was flirting shamelessly, but she was also having great fun. Most women would have been appalled at her brash behavior. The idea made her smile more broadly. She had never cared what people thought, so why should she start now?

  Anthony returned the smile. “Definitely not just any beautiful woman,” he said. He patted his shoulder with his hand. “Care for a shoulder to sleep on?”

  Carrie leaned her head into him and allowed the rocking of the train to lull her to sleep.

  *****

  Carrie was more rested than she had anticipated when she and Anthony rolled into the New York station. She had slept for the first several hours, nestled on his strong shoulder, and had then spent the rest of the time talking with Anthony and reading Elizabeth Packard’s book. Her horror at what Alice must be going through had intensified with each turn of the page and each click of the train wheels. She was determined to do all she could to free Alice from the horrible asylum.

  Anthony picked up their satchels and began to worm his way through the throng of people waiting on the platform. “Let’s go find a carriage,” he called over his shoulder.

  Carrie stayed close behind him, grateful for his height and size that paved the way for her. They made their way outside the station to where the carriages waited for passengers. Anthony raised his hand to wave one over.

  “Carrie Borden!”

  Carrie whirled around as the voice sounded behind her. “Michael Stratford!” She grinned with delight as he swept her into a hug, his dark brown eyes gleaming with the good humor she associated with him. She was relieved that being a policeman in New York City had not diminished the light. “What are you doing here?”

  Michael gazed down at her. “Did you really think my parents would let you take a carriage on your own?” he chided. “They sent me here to pick you up.”

  Carrie pulled Anthony forward. “I’m so grateful you’re here, but I’m not alone. I didn’t have time to get a telegram to your parents. Michael, this is Anthony Wallington. Anthony, this is the wonderful Michael Stratford.”

  Michael eyed Anthony, and then stuck out his hand with a smile. “Any friend of Carrie’s is a friend of mine,” he said graciously. “Welcome to New York City.”

  Anthony shook his hand firmly. “I’ve heard great things about you, Michael. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Michael nodded. “Let’s get out of this madhouse. Mother has prepared a special meal for you tonight. I guess I’ll have to eat less to make sure there is enough for you, Anthony.”

  Carrie knew he was teasing, but was embarrassed nonetheless. “I’m sorry. I should have sent a telegram before we left this morning. I don’t want Anthony’s presence to be an inconvenience.”

  “Nonsense!” Michael hollered over his shoulder as he plowed through the crowd. “I’m playing with you. You know Mother always has enough food for twice the number of people she is actually feeding.” He remained silent until he reached his carriage, loaded their luggage, and climbed into the driver’s seat. Only then did he turn around to talk to them. “I, for one, am very glad Anthony is with you. It turns out that I can’t go with you tomorrow because of work.” He scowled. “I doubt any of us would have let you go out there by yourself.”

  Carrie held her tongue. She knew there was nothing that would have kept her from visiting Alice, but since Anthony was with her, there was no reason to argue the point. She was, however, alarmed by the grim look in Michael’s eyes. “It’s that horrible?” she asked.

  Michael took a deep breath, looked off to the horizon for a moment, and then nodded. “It’s that horrible.”

  *****

  They were
settled down at the dining room table before they broached the subject of what had brought Carrie and Anthony to New York City.

  “What happened to Alice?” Nancy asked, her blue eyes glowing with distress. “I simply can’t believe that sweet, gentle soul is in an asylum.”

  Carrie told them everything she knew. She held back her belief that Alice was in terrible danger, suspecting they would fight to keep Carrie from going to visit if they thought she might also be putting herself in danger. Her intuition was rarely wrong, but she didn’t always have to voice it.

  Wally Stratford listened carefully, his eyes flashing with anger. “What is her husband’s name?”

  “Sherman Archer.”

  Wally walked over to a table in the foyer, pulled out a sheet of paper, and then returned to the table. “What does he do?”

  Carrie shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know,” she answered. “I’m hoping to get more information while I’m here.” She turned to gaze at Michael with an appeal in her eyes.

  “I’ll do the best I can,” Michael promised. “From what you said, he must be fairly wealthy.”

  “That is the impression I have gotten,” Carrie agreed. “I believe he is involved in business of some sort. I’m here to visit Alice, but also to find out as much about him as possible.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time, however.”

  “Why?” Nancy asked. “You know you and Anthony are welcome to stay here as long as you desire. We have plenty of room.”

  “Thank you,” Carrie said warmly, “but I don’t know how long Janie will wait for me.”

  Wally cocked a brow. “Wait for you?”

  Carrie smiled. “Janie is due to give birth any day now. She has a very capable midwife assisting her, but I want to be there just in case.” She knew she didn’t need to say anything else. The Stratfords were well aware of what had happened with Robert and Bridget.