New Horizons

by Lois Gladys Leppard

  “Ah, so it’s Amanda, is it,” the fellow whispered loudly. “And I am George Stuart.” He continued smiling as they passed on down the walkway.

  Mandie looked straight ahead and muttered grumpily, “I’ll be glad when those fellows are gone.”

  “But if they have relatives here, they’ll probably be visiting quite often,” Celia reminded her. “It makes me feel nice when they look at me, like I was … just something worth looking at. We’re grown up now, and the boys are aware of that.” She grinned at Mandie.

  “Well, I’m not interested in the boys here. I only have one thing to do at this college, and that is to learn everything I can so I can graduate and go back home,” Mandie replied.

  “Your grandmother probably has something to say about that,” Celia said as they continued down the driveway. “Remember, she asked the registrar about social doings?”

  “I know.” Mandie sighed. “She wants me to become a nice young lady and get married to someone high in society.” Leaning closer to her friend, she added sternly, “And I refuse to let her handle my life anymore!”

  “Mandie!” Celia exclaimed, shocked at Mandie’s seriousness about her grandmother. “How are you going to stop her?”

  “I’ll figure out ways,” Mandie promised.

  They came up behind the two older ladies, who were stopped at the end of the driveway. There was a fancy public carriage parked there. The driver was a short, plump fellow in a uniform, with gray curly hair and twinkling black eyes.

  Mrs. Taft immediately spoke to him. “Is this your carriage, sir?”

  “Yes, madam, it is,” the man replied, removing his top hat. “Do you wish to engage it?”

  “I would be more interested in buying it.” Mrs. Taft got directly to the point. “Are you interested in selling it but continuing to work as the driver? You see, we have two young ladies here in need of transportation while they attend this school, and it would be less complicated if you would just sell me the carriage and continue as the driver. That way they would be assured of transportation any time they wished to leave the college.”

  Mandie and Celia watched and listened. Mrs. Hamilton frowned and said, “But, Mrs. Taft, the girls wouldn’t need a carriage very often.”

  Mrs. Taft turned to look at her. “I would feel better knowing that Amanda had transportation available at all times. And the girls do need to get out, learn their way around town, and see all the historical locations.” Turning back to the driver, she asked, “Have you made a decision about this?”

  The man took off his hat, scratched his head, and looked at her. “I don’t rightly know what to say, ma’am. What would I do when the college closes for the summer and the girls are not hereabouts?” the man asked.

  “Mr.—I’m sorry, what is your name, sir?” Mrs. Taft asked.

  “Sam Donovan, ma’am,” the man replied.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Donovan. I am Mrs. Taft, this is Mrs. Hamilton, and this is my granddaughter, Amanda Shaw, and Mrs. Hamilton’s daughter, Celia,” Mrs. Taft explained. The driver nodded his head at each of the ladies. “Mr. Donovan, you may have the carriage back during the summers. The girls will be home for vacation. It’s just during the school year that we need to have it, and when they graduate and are all finished with school here, I will give the carriage back to you.”

  Mandie, listening to every word, was secretly hoping the man would refuse to sell his carriage. After all, what did they need with a carriage? She looked at the man and shook her head when Mrs. Taft wasn’t looking. This puzzled the man, who then glanced at Celia and asked, “Do you young ladies not want my carriage?”

  “What?” Mrs. Taft asked and quickly looked at Mandie.

  “I don’t think we need to buy a carriage, Mr. Donovan,” Mandie replied, cringing as she knew her grandmother would come back with some retort.

  “You girls are new here, and I say you need a carriage with a driver, so let me handle this, please,” Mrs. Taft told her. Turning back to the man, she said, “We need to get to the hotel right now. Could you take us there?”

  “At your service, madam,” Mr. Donovan replied, moving to stand by the carriage step to help the ladies board.

  Mandie and Celia followed, whispering together.

  “I’m hoping he won’t let Grandmother buy his carriage,” Mandie said to Celia. “We don’t need a carriage.”

  “No, we don’t,” Celia agreed. “But your grandmother will offer him a lot of money.”

  “I know,” Mandie said. “But he may not be the kind who wants lots of money for things of value, like the carriage. I’m sure he worked hard to pay for it.”

  The girls stepped into the seats behind the older ladies, Mr. Donovan shook the reins, and they were on their way.

  In a few minutes Mr. Donovan stopped the carriage in front of the huge, antique Charlestonian Hotel.

  “We could have walked here in the time it took for the conversation with Mr. Donovan,” Mandie whispered to Celia as they stepped out of the carriage behind the ladies.

  “But not your grandmother. I don’t believe she’s interested in walking anywhere,” Celia replied.

  Mrs. Taft stood by the vehicle, talking to Mr. Donovan.

  “We will be having our noonday meal in the dining room here shortly,” Mrs. Taft said. “Would you please return in an hour to pick us up? You can give me your answer about the carriage then.”

  Mr. Donovan cleared his throat and said, “I believe I can give you the answer right now. I do not wish to sell my carriage. However—”

  Mrs. Taft quickly interrupted. “It would be well worth your while. Just think about how much money you would be making: I would buy your carriage, pay you a monthly fee, and give the carriage back to you when the girls finish college.”

  “I do beg your pardon, madam, but I did not finish my statement,” Mr. Donovan told her. Then he quickly said, “I do not wish to sell my carriage, but I will rent it to you for the time your young ladies need it.”

  “Oh, I see,” Mrs. Taft said, and looking at the girls and Mrs. Hamilton, she added, “I suppose we could go down to the factory and buy our own carriage.”

  “But then we would have to find a dependable driver for it,” Mrs. Hamilton reminded her.

  Mrs. Taft turned to Mr. Donovan and asked, “Would you consider driving a carriage for us if we bought one?”

  “Ah, now, madam, what would I do with my own carriage if I had to drive one for you?” Mr. Donovan asked. “ ’Twould not be possible, I say.”

  Mandie gave Celia a hopeless look, and as she did another carriage pulled up behind Mr. Donovan’s. She watched as some of the girls she had seen at the college stepped down with two elderly ladies. They glanced at Mandie, but when Mandie smiled at them they immediately frowned and turned their gaze toward the front door of the hotel and disappeared inside.

  “Not very friendly, are they?” Celia whispered as she moved away from her mother.

  “Grandmother would call that ill-mannered,” Mandie whispered back. She turned to continue listening to her grandmother’s conversation with the carriage driver.

  “Would you please come back in about an hour, Mr. Donovan? Right now it seems we must go inside or we’ll be late for our meal,” Mrs. Taft said, looking around as other people began arriving and entering the hotel.

  “Yes, madam, I shall return then,” Mr. Donovan replied as he stepped up into his driver’s seat. He tipped his tall hat as he drove off.

  chapter 2

  In the hotel, Mandie and Celia shared a room adjoining Mrs. Taft and Mrs. Hamilton’s room. As soon as the ladies closed the door between the rooms, Mandie asked, “Did you notice all those girls in the dining room? They must be from the college.”

  “Yes, their parents are probably staying over the first night to get them settled, like my mother and your grandmother are doing,” Celia replied.

  “I hope we don’t have to sit near any of those girls who were in line with me today. They seemed ver
y unfriendly. They heard everything Grandmother was saying to the registrar, and when I smiled at them, they wouldn’t even smile back,” Mandie told her.

  “Then I’d say they are not being properly raised, as your grandmother would define it,” Celia said.

  The girls stood before the full-length mirror and straightened their sashes and bows.

  “They are probably wealthy, the kind that think etiquette doesn’t apply to them,” Mandie said, smoothing her skirt.

  Just then Mrs. Taft and Mrs. Hamilton came through the door from their adjoining room.

  “I believe everyone is ready now, so let’s go down and see what they are serving in the dining room today,” Mrs. Taft said, opening the door to the hall.

  “I do hope they have something like ham or pork chops, with lots of green vegetables,” Mandie said.

  “I agree with you,” Celia said. “I could eat a big plate of cooked spinach right now.”

  “We’ll soon find out,” Mrs. Hamilton told her.

  When they arrived at the huge double doorway to the dining room, a waiter immediately came to seat them.

  “Please put us somewhere away from the sunlight that is coming in all these windows. It is awfully warm today without having to sit in the sun,” Mrs. Taft told the waiter.

  “Yes, ma’am, right this way please,” he said, leading them all the way across the room to a corner that had no windows. “Is this satisfactory, ma’am?”

  “Yes, this is fine,” Mrs. Taft said.

  Mandie looked around and noticed that most of the diners were looking at them. They all seemed to be from the college, with parents or brothers and sisters with them. As Mandie sat in the chair the waiter had pulled out, she realized she was facing the tall, dark-haired girl who had stared at her in the line that morning. The girl was alone and was again staring at Mandie.

  Mandie said under her breath to Celia, “Don’t look right this minute, but that dark-haired girl from the line this morning is sitting at the table straight across from us.”

  Celia subtly turned to see the girl.

  “I see, and she is staring at us right now,” Celia said. And then she quickly added, “Don’t look right this minute, but that George Stuart and his friend and two girls are seated at the table beyond her.”

  Mandie waited a minute and finally looked where Celia indicated. Both of the young men caught her look and smiled. She felt her face turn red and quickly turned to Celia. “They saw me look,” she whispered.

  “I wonder if the girls are their sisters,” Celia said.

  “I don’t remember seeing the girls at registration this morning. Do you remember seeing them?” Mandie asked.

  “Amanda, let’s get our food ordered now.” Mrs. Taft once again interrupted their conversation before scanning the menu the waiter had given her.

  Mandie and Celia quickly picked up their menus to see what they would like to eat.

  “Oh, they do have ham,” Mandie said with a relieved smile.

  “And lots of vegetables,” Celia added.

  As soon as everyone had ordered, another waiter came along with a cart and placed a glass of cold sweet tea by each plate.

  “This is delicious,” Mandie said, sipping the tea. As she set down the glass, she caught the eye of the one who identified himself as George Stuart, and he smiled. She twisted in her chair, trying to avoid the direct view of him and his friend. Turning a little toward Celia, she said, “I do wish I could change my seat.”

  “You don’t need to. There are two huge men being seated at the table behind your grandmother. They will block your view of the young men,” Celia whispered.

  “Thank goodness,” Mandie replied without looking in that direction.

  Since Mrs. Taft was in a hurry and everyone was hungry, they soon finished the meal and went into the lobby to wait for Mr. Donovan to return. Mandie saw him pull up in front of the door.

  “Mr. Donovan is here now, Grandmother,” she told Mrs. Taft.

  “Very prompt, isn’t he?” Mrs. Taft said with a smile as they all went outside.

  They walked out to the road where Mr. Donovan was waiting. Several other people exited the hotel right then. Since Mr. Donovan’s carriage was the only one in the parking space, everyone approached him. Mandie listened as he told all the others that Mrs. Taft had already engaged his carriage, so he was waiting for her. Two young girls in the group glared at Mandie and Celia and then covered their mouths with their gloved hands to whisper between them.

  Mandie felt her temper rise. Evidently the girls were ridiculing them, but she couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t even know the girls, but they were probably from the college. She looked at Celia and frowned.

  Finally another carriage pulled up and the other group rushed to get it. Mrs. Taft said, “All right, Mr. Donovan, if you would please drive us down to Meeting Street, I’d like to show the girls the shopping district.”

  Mr. Donovan helped the ladies into the carriage, but Mandie knew she was in no mood to shop. She couldn’t stop thinking about the girls from the hotel and why they would have been whispering about her and Celia.

  Celia finally brought Mandie out of her thoughts when she said, “I’ll be glad when the decision about the carriage is all settled.”

  As Mr. Donovan drove the group toward Meeting Street, Mandie and Celia listened to Mrs. Taft and Mrs. Hamilton talk excitedly about the shops they would visit. All Mandie and Celia could see were old buildings.

  “There seem to be a lot of antique shops,” Celia commented.

  “Yes, and just what would we want to buy in an antique shop?” Mandie questioned, making sure her grandmother sitting on the seat in front of them could not hear the comment.

  “Maybe something for our room or to send back home,” Celia replied as the carriage slowed down. “There are lots of art shops. We might find a painting for our room.”

  Mr. Donovan pulled the carriage to a stop at a corner. Mrs. Taft turned back to the girls and said, “Let’s get out now and walk around awhile.” She stood up as Mr. Donovan came to assist her and Mrs. Hamilton out of the carriage. Mandie and Celia followed quickly.

  “Most of the buildings here in Charleston are very, very old,” Mrs. Hamilton explained.

  “Even the air here smells old,” Mandie said with a little laugh.

  “That’s the ocean you smell, dear,” Mrs. Taft said, overhearing her remark.

  “And the ocean is old,” Celia added with a slight giggle.

  Mrs. Taft crossed the cobblestone street, and the others followed as she stopped at an antique book shop. Very old handwritten books were displayed in the narrow front window.

  “Look!” Mandie exclaimed, pressing against the glass to see the books. Turning to Celia she asked, “Can you read that old-fashioned handwriting?”

  “Not exactly,” Celia replied, squinting to see.

  “Let’s go inside,” Mrs. Taft suggested, leading the way through the front door of the shop.

  Inside, the room was crammed from floor to ceiling with all kinds of books. An old woman sat behind a tiny counter in the back of the shop. Mandie drew a deep breath. The place was so small and musty she felt there was no air to breathe. As she paused in front of a stack of leather-bound volumes, she saw the woman rise and walk toward the front of the store.

  “Good day, ladies. I am Mrs. Heyward. May I help you?”

  Mrs. Taft was leaning slightly backward and squinting to read the titles of the books high up on the shelves. She looked at the woman and said, “Thank you, but we are merely showing the young ladies the town today. They will be living at the Charleston Ladies’ College, and I am sure they will have need to visit bookstores.” She paused and then added, “I am Mrs. Norman Taft, this is my granddaughter, Amanda Shaw, and this is Mrs. Jane Hamilton and her daughter, Celia.”

  Mrs. Heyward nodded her head, smiled, and said, “Welcome to Charleston. I take it you are not from here.”

  “No, ma’am, I live in Asheville, Nor
th Carolina, after several years in Washington, D.C., and my granddaughter lives in Franklin, North Carolina. Mrs. Hamilton and her daughter live near Richmond, Virginia. We are quite scattered about, you see.”

  Mrs. Heyward frowned thoughtfully and said, “Mrs. Norman Taft, and you lived in Washington. Why, you must be the wife of the late Senator Norman Taft.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s right,” Mrs. Taft quickly replied, and with a sad voice added, “Norman has been gone now for quite a few years.”

  “Yes, I remember all the newspapers had stories of his demise and how sad it was—”

  Mrs. Taft quickly interrupted. “Please, let’s not discuss that.” She turned to the bookshelves and began reading the titles stacked there.

  Mandie frowned and squinted her blue eyes as she heard the remark about her grandfather.

  “Of course, I apologize, Mrs. Taft,” Mrs. Heyward said. “Now, is there anything you’d like me to get down from the upper shelves for you to look at?”

  “No, thank you, not today,” Mrs. Taft replied.

  Mandie thought it odd that her grandmother was so short with the bookstore owner. Why did her grandmother not want to discuss the death of her husband? What had happened to him? Did he not die a normal death? Mandie couldn’t remember ever having discussed it with her mother or grandmother.

  Celia also heard the shortness Mrs. Taft had for the bookstore owner, and she came to stand beside Mandie, who was pretending to read the titles on the stacked books. Mandie looked at her with a puzzled frown.

  “I think we need to be moving on up the street to see the other shops,” Mrs. Taft told Mrs. Hamilton.

  “Yes, we don’t have a lot of time before the sun goes down and we have to return to the hotel for supper,” Mrs. Hamilton reminded the others.

  Mrs. Taft turned to Mrs. Heyward and said, “Good day, madam. It was a pleasure meeting you.” She motioned for Mandie to go ahead out of the shop, and she turned to follow.

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Taft,” Mrs. Heyward replied.

  Outside, Mrs. Taft spotted an art shop a few doors down the street on the other side. “Let’s see what those artists have for sale. We might find something suitable to hang in your room.” She led the way across the street.