“Didn’t I ask what you thought of Veronica?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I thought I had. I wanted to know what you thought.”
“Until you asked, I had to wait. I was pretty sure you had been pulled in without realizing it. But don’t worry—your mother and I wouldn’t have let you drown in a hopeless marriage. If it had gone on long enough, eventually we would have spoken words of caution. But we felt like you needed to see it for yourself.”
“Well from now on, Dad, however old I am, if you see me about to make such a colossal blunder again like this, you tell me! I don’t care if I am fifty years old and you are—”
He paused momentarily.
“How old would you be, Dad?” he asked. “Seventy-eight. I was twenty-eight when you were born.”
“All right, then… I don’t care if I am fifty and you are seventy-eight, if you see me being stupid, box my ears and tell me! It won’t matter how old I am, you will always be my father, and will always be older and wiser than me.”
“I’ll try, Seth, my boy!” laughed his father. “It might be hard, but I shall try.”
It grew silent and again Seth was serious.
“What we were talking about before,” he said, “I guess maybe that is the place to set it right, like you said, isn’t it—where it went wrong in the first place… in the parlor at Oakbriar.”
“I think that may be a wise observation, Seth, my boy.”
“I have to talk to them, don’t I?”
“I think so.”
“First I’ve got to decide what to say,” said Seth with a long sigh.
As they rode back into the stables an hour after setting out, Seth Davidson knew what he had to do. He would get his thoughts settled and his mind calm. Then he would make a call at Oakbriar… tomorrow. The day after at the latest. Word had it that Veronica’s father was back in Dove’s Landing for two or three weeks in advance of the upcoming congressional Thanksgiving recess.
He would use the opportunity to speak with him.
PART THREE
SEASON OF UNREST
1860
Twenty-Eight
A telegram arrived at Oakbriar before Seth Davidson made his planned visit to Veronica’s father, carrying tidings that would, in the end, influence the lives of the Beaumont family far more than what Seth had to tell them.
In his study, Denton Beaumont heard the rider approach but had no idea what could be the man’s business. Jarvis knocked on the open door a minute or two later.
“Dere be a telegram jes’ come fo’ you, massa Bowmont,” he said.
“Come in, Jarvis,” said Beaumont. “What are you standing there for like an idiot? Let me see it.”
The black man handed his master the envelope, and retreated in silence. Beaumont slit open the envelope, removed and unfolded the single sheet inside, and sat back in his chair to read it. The message was concise and simple:
SENATOR EVERETT DEAD OF HEART FAILURE.
REQUEST PRIVATE MEETING SOONEST
POSSIBLE. SAY NOTHING, COME TO RICHMOND
IMMEDIATELY.
—HENRY WISE, GOVERNOR,
COMMONWEALTH OF VIRGINIA.
Beaumont exhaled a long sigh, his brain spinning. This was stunning news. What could the request possibly mean?
He was on the train for the state capital that same afternoon.
The following morning, Seth finally summoned the courage he sorely wished he had demonstrated earlier. He arrived at Oakbriar, walked up the steps, took a deep breath, and sounded the knocker.
From her room Veronica had seen him come. If the truth were known, she was more than a little put out with her fiancé, as she supposed him, for his gross inattentiveness of late. He never called on her, only she on him. Whenever they were together he was quiet and distracted. She had heard that men changed once becoming engaged.
But she had never expected it of Seth.
When she saw him riding toward the house, therefore, after dashing halfway across the room, she stopped herself and thought a moment.
She would wait a few minutes in her room. She wouldn’t run down eagerly as if she was actually glad to see him. Let him stand and stew a while on the porch. She might even tell Jarvis to send him away, and tell him that she was not receiving visitors today. Let him think about that if he thought he could get away with this silent treatment.
She sat down in her chair, looked at herself in the mirror, then played with her hair and fussed a little with her new necklace. But when she again heard the sound of horse’s hooves outside, she jumped up and dashed to the window.
There was Seth’s buggy… riding away!
She turned and flew to the door and down the stairs.
“Jarvis… Jarvis!” she cried out. “Was that Seth who called?”
“Yes’m, Miz Bowmont,” replied the butler as his mistress reached the ground.
“Why in heaven’s name didn’t you come get me!” she said.
“He din’t ax fo’ you, Miz Bowmont, leastways not by yo’self.”
“What do you mean by that!”
“He ax’ed fo’ Mister Bowmont an’ yo’self, Miz Bowmont. W’en I tol’ him dat Mister Bowmont wuz away, he thanked me den turned an’ lef’.”
“Without asking to see me!” cried Veronica in a passion of angry disappointment. She ran to the door and swung it open, intending to call after Seth and demand that he turn around.
But the back of his horse was already disappearing from sight. For half an instant she considered chasing after him, but just as quickly realized it would do no good. By the time she got someone to hitch a horse to a buggy, Seth would be halfway to Dove’s Landing. She didn’t much like the idea of trying to overtake him behind a horse at full gallop and turning the buggy over on herself.
Seething inside, she turned and went back up to her room. Stronger measures were apparently going to be called for.
Meanwhile in the office of the governor in Richmond, Denton Beaumont had just been shown a seat and offered a cigar.
“Beaumont,” said the governor, “We are a year away from what may be the most historic presidential election in this nation’s history. With Lincoln and Seward vying for the Republican nomination and some trying to persuade John Fremont to try again, with Jefferson Davis making noises about running, as well as the Democrats Douglas and Breckinridge trying to unseat their own president for the nomination, not to mention Bell for the Whigs likely to throw his hat in the ring, and with the guns of Harper’s Ferry still sounding in our ears and John Brown likely to be hung within a matter of weeks… these are critically important times. And now with Minnesota and Oregon in the Union as free states, the South will never again gain parity in the Senate. We are already looking at an eighteen-to-fifteen advantage of free over slave states and that gap is sure to widen. The abolitionists are becoming more and more outspoken. John Brown was a lunatic, yet his cause has much sympathy in the North. Buchanan will no doubt be the last pro-Southern president this country will elect. Things are not moving our way and could get out of control. And here is Virginia right in the middle of it. If there is ever an armed conflict, I shudder to think of the implications for the citizenry of our state.”
The governor paused momentarily.
“Now I am aware of your discussions with some in the party,” he went on, “and of your recent appointment in Washington, and your plan to run again for the Senate in ’62. But it would seem that events have stolen a march on us. Suddenly Everett is dead and I have a problem—I have to appoint someone to fulfill the remaining three years of the senator’s term. I see no reason, as you are being groomed for it anyway, to select anyone else. You are the obvious choice. The long and the short of it is that I brought you here to ask if you want the job.”
Beaumont sat stunned. It would not do in these august surroundings to fall all over himself with too much eagerness. But his heart was pounding so loud he could hear it. The governor just o
ffered him a senatorial seat on a silver platter… without all the expense and bother—not to mention potential humiliation—of a second campaign!
He took a breath to still his trembling nerves, then tried to speak in a measured tone without betraying the quiver in his voice.
“Well, Governor,” he began, “I am, of course, flattered. The death of Senator Everett has come as a great shock to us all. I am saddened, as I know you are, by the passing of a distinguished Virginian. As to your offer, I can only say that, for the good of our state, I am willing to serve, and am honored by the confidence you place in me.”
“Come, come, Denton,” chuckled the governor, “we have known one another long enough to dispense with all that. Save it for the press. A simple yes or no will suffice. I know how you had been longing to get to Washington. And had it not been for some last-minute pranks by our good friend Senator Hoyt, you would have been in Washington much sooner. But the fact is, there are any number of other men I might have invited here today who would be furious to know of this meeting. But… I want a man on the Senate floor who will be loyal to me when the time comes. And I will expect unswerving, and unquestioning loyalty.”
“You shall have it, Governor.”
“Then I suggest you get home, make whatever arrangements you must, then get back to Washington at your soonest opportunity and announce your resignation from that post in the War Department they arranged for you. As soon as you are situated and can send for your family, you will be expected on the Senate floor and sworn in.”
“I will see to it, Governor.”
“Good, then I will make the announcement to the paper, including heartfelt condolences from us both to Senator Everett’s widow. I will send my official notification to the vice president in a couple days. Let me know by telegraph when you are in Washington.”
Denton Beaumont left the governor’s office twenty minutes later and nearly skipped down the stairs two at a time, a beaming grin spreading across his lips that he could not suppress if he tried. As he emerged from the capitol into the crisp November sunshine, he came very close to shouting Hallelujah! at the top of his lungs.
Frederick Trowbridge and Jeeves Hargrove and Upton Byford and even former President Tyler and all the rest of Virginia’s power brokers who had chosen the fool Davidson over him to run in last year’s election, and then come back to him last summer when their fortunes had changed and they needed him… let them all choke on it. He would soon be seated in the Senate, and without their help! He would remember who his friends were… and weren’t.
By the time the train pulled into Dove’s Landing the next day, Denton Beaumont was himself again—calm and sedate, yet still glowing inside from the developments.
“Hello, Mr. Beaumont,” he heard his name called almost the moment he stepped out of the train.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, turning. “Hello, Scully.”
“Been out of town, Mr. Beaumont?”
“There’s one thing you ought to learn, Scully,” said the senate-appointee without slowing, “and that is to mind your own business. Your kind will never get far in life, but you’ll get farther if you learn that one lesson.”
“Yes, sir. You’ll give my regards to Miss Veronica, won’t you, Mr. Beaumont?”
“Scully, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my daughter is engaged.”
“I heard, Mr. Beaumont.”
“Then you know it wouldn’t be proper for me to pass along to her the regards of another young man.”
“Yes, sir. I only thought—”
“I know what you thought, Scully,” interrupted Beaumont. “You’re sweet on her, and you don’t understand that girls like my daughter can never have anything to do with boys like you, whether they’re engaged or not. Stay away from my daughter, Scully. I don’t even want you thinking about her, do you understand?”
Beaumont did not wait for an answer but walked on, leaving Scully sulking where he stood leaning against the station wall.
The brief unpleasant exchange, as low on the human food chain as he considered a boy like Scully Riggs, did serve the purpose of reminding Denton Beaumont that there were matters that would require attending to, here as well as in Washington. He had affairs to place in order. One of the most pressing was this business of Veronica’s marriage to the Davidson boy. If he knew Veronica, she would be as anxious to go to Washington as he was. He could hardly imagine her being happy at Greenwood alone.
His other pressing concern was Oakbriar itself. During his recent absences he had allowed things to continue without making too much of it. But the Senate would require far more of his attention. He could be gone for years. National office might not be out of the question if he played his cards right. He would have to make some definite changes.
Who would be in charge of operations at Oakbriar during his absence? Most of the white men were afraid of Slade. He had given the big black man far too much power. He was himself the only man who could keep him in line. Who would run the place? He wasn’t about to let that fool of a Davidson boy settle himself at Oakbriar after December, even, as seemed inevitable, as his son-in-law. Before he knew it, the imbecile would be treating the slaves like whites and putting ideas into their heads. He and Wyatt would clash immediately.
Who could handle the whites, the slaves, and knew everything there was to know about Oakbriar?
Wyatt?
Possibly, but a plantation the size of Oakbriar required more experience and judgment than the bone he had tossed him regarding the deputyship. Wyatt would be able to do what was required, but he was still too young to command the respect needed from so many.
There was only one person. Beaumont hated to admit it, but he needed Leon Riggs back. He and Wyatt together—Wyatt as his eyes and ears, Riggs as his overseer—could keep the plantation profitable and orderly. Whether Riggs could handle Slade was another matter. But other than that, he was capable of running Oakbriar. And to ease his worries and allow him a seat in the Senate, he didn’t mind dishing out a little humility in the man’s direction.
As to Veronica, maybe he could get her to call off the whole thing and go to Washington with them. He knew it would never happen, but it was a pleasant thought. On the other hand, perhaps the wedding should proceed as planned, and then the two young people accompany them to Washington. Away from the influence of his fool of a father, who could tell, maybe something tolerable could be made of the boy.
He had to figure some way to make the best of it, Denton Beaumont thought to himself. Apparently they were going to be stuck with Seth Davidson as their son-in-law.
Lady Daphne went into a rapture of delight at the news her husband brought from his meeting with the governor. Veronica took the news more sedately. Immediately she began revolving within her own mind what effect the change would have on her.
“Will I have to go with you, Daddy?” she asked. “What about Seth and me and the wedding?”
“You do not have to come, Veronica,” replied her father. “I merely assumed you would want to. What attractive young lady would not want to live and swirl about in the center of the nation’s social vortex, with young men and dances and balls—”
“But, Daddy… what about Seth and the wedding?”
“Your mother and I will not be moving until after the first of the year. It will take me that long to find a larger house and see to moving what things we will need. Congress will be in recess for the holidays anyway. So by all means, my dear, go ahead with your plans, and bring Seth along. Perhaps the change will be good for him. One never knows,” he added with a smile of intended humor, “he might become a diplomat or something.”
Her father’s words sent Veronica’s brain spinning in heretofore unconsidered directions. To get Seth sufficiently out from under the wings of his parents such that she could mold him free from their daily influence had been one of her highest objectives for years. Her father’s appointment would provide her just the right opportunity. Who could tell, with her
father’s connections and prominence, Seth might well become an important man too. He was just the kind of young man who could take the world by storm if put in the right places—good-looking, of good family and stock, well-spoken and educated. If he could be shed of the influence of his father’s religious and social idiosyncrasies, there was no reason he couldn’t run for office himself one day. Her father would appoint him as an aide or assistant of some kind. From there he would work his way up. When her father was ready to retire after two or three terms in the Senate, Seth, then in his thirties, would be in a perfect position to continue the family legacy.
Before the day was out, Veronica’s castle building about the bright future she and Seth would have in the nation’s capital had succeeded in making her as excited about the move as her mother. Immediately they began to revamp the wedding guest list, adding many new names from Washington whose friendships it would be well to begin cultivating as soon as possible.
Denton Beaumont was not one to let the grass grow under his feet. With the governor’s public announcement due any day, sure to be the biggest news to hit Dove’s Landing in years, he did not want to negotiate with a man like Leon Riggs from a position of weakness. It wouldn’t do for Riggs to get the idea he needed him. The only way relationships worked in the calculus of Denton Beaumont’s considerations was for people to need, and therefore fear, him.
Accordingly, the following morning he hitched up a buggy and headed for town, ostensibly on other business that would give cover to his true intent.
Arranging it so that he accidentally ran into Leon Riggs at the station, he greeted him with what he considered just the right touch of friendliness and aloofness.
“Hello, Riggs,” he said, offering his hand.
“Mister Beaumont,” nodded Riggs.
“How are things going for you here?”
“Can’t complain, I guess. Pay ain’t too good, but the work ain’t bad.”
“Well, if you ever decide to get back into plantation work, come see me. I can always use a good man.”
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