Distant Dreams (22 page)

Finishing her task, Carolina put the oil back in the cupboard and took up the lamps. “I’d best take these to Mother before she begins to fret.” Naomi only nodded and busied herself at the stove.

Carolina left the room and found her mother and Virginia, heads together, blissfully involved in what they did best—organizing the household.

“Here are the lamps you asked for,” Carolina announced, thrusting them forward. She looked around at the room. Her mother had done wonders. The room, normally a music room, had been made over into a bedroom. It was quite unconventional, but her mother had made it very charming. Near the white marble fireplace a French-style sleigh bed had been placed. The oak bed was much lower than the normal four-poster beds that were favored in Oakbridge bedrooms. This would accommodate James’ physical needs. Beside the bed was a small doily-topped table. Her mother placed one of the blue lamps here, the other on a corner desk.

The remainder of the room was rather stark. An imported Persian rug of dark blue and red graced the floor and fit in well with the dark blue brocade of the draperies, but aside from this and the few paintings on the walls, the room was void of furniture.

“I’ve arranged to have a large wardrobe brought in for that corner over there,” Margaret said, as if reading Carolina’s mind. “Why don’t you check the adjoining room and see what else you think it needs.”

Carolina was honored that her mother would think her capable of contributing valuable information on the matter and quickly took her leave. Stepping through large double oak doors, Carolina again was amazed at the transformation. A long table and trestle bench took up space near the floor-to-ceiling windows, receiving maximum lighting. Near this were three freestanding bookshelves. Several straight-back rococo chairs were placed around the room, while two more comfortable sofas of the same style were positioned opposite the study area.

The pale yellow draperies had been pulled back and afternoon light flooded the room. All around her, Carolina noted the muted yellow tones of the chair and sofa cushions, as well as the delicate print of the wallpaper. It was a perfect room to study in. Her mother had been quite right to pick it for just such a purpose.

“What do you think?” Margaret asked, sweeping in behind her.

“I think it’s wonderful, Mother. So bright and airy.”

“I thought yellow would draw in the light more naturally.”

Carolina nodded. “It does. I’m so excited.”

Margaret smiled and Carolina instantly felt a return of the warmth she’d shared with her mother after returning from the railroad celebration. “Mother, I am very grateful to you and Papa. Thank you so much.”

“I’ll still expect you to conduct yourself as a lady,” Margaret admonished, then added with a wink, “and for you to make sure your sister conducts herself as one, too.”

Carolina tried not to frown. She turned away quickly, hoping her mother would drop the matter. “Is this new?” she asked, crossing to a tall glass-door secretary. “I don’t remember it.”

“Something your father found, although I’m not sure where. He thought it would be useful. See here, the door folds down to make a writing surface.”

Carolina let out her breath slowly and felt a surge of relief that her mother did not pursue the issue of Virginia and James. “It looks quite serviceable.”

“Is that the carriage?” Margaret strained her ear toward the door. “I believe they’ve arrived.”

She hurried from the room, leaving Carolina to wonder what she should do. A quick glance down at her gown reassured her she was dressed appropriately. The dark green print of the cotton day dress suited her complexion. Cream-colored piping and ruching trimmed the form-fitting bodice and came to a point at her waist. She was grateful the gown was not overly childish, as many hanging in her closet tended to be. This was one of her newer long dresses, and it made her feel pretty and grown up.

She could hear the voices of her mother and father in the vestibule and felt a sudden anxiety sweep over her. How should she act with James? When they were children she had held him in some awe, to be sure. Though at the same time he had been Jimmy Baldwin, the terror of little girls and, as such, had drawn her ire equally mixed with the awe. But during her meeting with him at the party she had realized they were so much closer, in maturity if not in age. Well, perhaps in this new circumstance things would not be much different than when they were children. The awe and the ire would still be present. But might there also be a new ingredient in the mix—that of friendship as well? Such a notion brought only more confusion to Carolina’s mind.

“Oh, dear,” she said aloud, not even realizing she’d done so. Catching her hand to her mouth, she struggled to shake her sudden nerves. Everything will work itself together, she thought and rechecked her hair in the mirror near the door.

“He’ll never even look at me,” she said softly, imagining his teasing blue eyes and dimpled grin. She tucked a curl back into place and noted with satisfaction that she was in as fine an order as she could get. “I’m here to learn,” she reminded herself and opened the door. “Let Virginia concentrate on appearance and flirtations.”

She came into the foyer just as they were entering. Her father and mother and Virginia were there. The other children were absent because Mother had told them not to accost their new houseguest all at once. James, on his crutches, was in the midst of the others, his head inclined toward Virginia, who was speaking to him. They didn’t notice Carolina for a long moment until she daintily cleared her throat.

“Ah, Carolina,” Joseph said.

At that same moment James stumbled as his crutch slipped on the highly polished oak floor. He bumped into Virginia, who instinctively reached up and caught him by the arm. There was an awkward moment before he smiled his thanks.

“I am afraid I have yet to get the hang of these things on polished surfaces,” James said, referring to his crutches.

“We pray you never have to.” Virginia batted her long lashes and kept her hand on his arm.

Then James turned toward Carolina and added almost as if she were an afterthought, “Miss Adams, how good to see you again. I won’t shake your hand for fear of falling flat on my face.”

As Carolina took a moment to study him she thought at first that he hadn’t changed a bit since seeing him at his party. He’d lost weight, but that was to be expected after what he’d been through. But on closer scrutiny she noted something else about him that was different. Something in his eyes . . . it was as if the joke on his lips was out of sync with his eyes, which did not seem to respond at all to his amusement.

“That is perfectly all right, Mr. Baldwin,” she said in her most poised voice. “I am glad you could come.”

“Come now,” Margaret said, motioning the servants to follow with James’ baggage. “We have your rooms ready. You may rest until dinner and then perhaps you will feel up to telling us of your mother and father.”

James smiled. “I assure you, I will be happy to do so.” He glanced from Margaret to Carolina and held his gaze on her in a way she found most disconcerting. She didn’t know if it was worse to be ignored or to be so scrutinized. “So, I am to be your teacher,” he said.

“Yes,” she said in a breathless manner, unable to quell her anxiety. She realized she was twisting her skirt in her hand like a child.

“Perhaps later today, after I settle in a bit, we can meet and discuss the strategy for your studies?”

“There is plenty of time for that tomorrow,” said Margaret. “Goodness! We don’t intend to work you to death, Mr. Baldwin.”

“I don’t mind at all, but I certainly don’t wish to push my pupil—”

“That would be fine, Mr. Baldwin!” said Carolina quickly. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Excellent! Give me an hour to unwind a bit.”

Carolina ignored the displeased look from her mother and the spiteful look from Virginia. She didn’t want to lose a moment of her long-awaited studies. And she feared that before too long she would be vying heavily with her sister for James’ attentions.

23

Shaky Beginnings

An hour later, rested from his journey, James found Carolina reading a book in the parlor. She had seemed so at ease sitting in the rocking chair, book in hand—until she glanced up at him with anxious eyes. He wondered if he had startled her with his sudden appearance. Shrugging, he smiled as he hobbled upon his crutches into the room.

“Would this be a good time for us to discuss your studies, Miss Adams?” he asked.

She snapped her book shut and jumped up. “Why, yes—if you are up to it. Shall we do it here or in your rooms?”

“Let’s go to the classroom so that we can get the feel of the place.”

She walked next to him back to the classroom, where late afternoon shadows were slanting through the windows. Still it was bright in comparison to his dark brooding chamber back in Washington City. The ambiance was working well upon him, and he was, in spite of himself, already starting to feel better. Perhaps this would indeed be a good way to pass his recuperation time. With his mind stayed on the learning affairs of Carolina Adams and the courtship of Virginia, the death of Phineas and his disillusionment with his broken dreams would stop tormenting him so.

“Mother and Virginia arranged these rooms,” Carolina said as they paused at the door. “They have tried to anticipate your needs, but if anything is amiss, you have but to ask and it will be seen to.”

“This will be quite sufficient,” James assured rather stiffly.

Carolina’s tension was beginning to affect him. Noting the bookshelves and attempting to make casual conversation, he added, “I have just the books for those.”

“Truly?” Carolina asked without thinking.

James smiled at her uncensored wonderment. “Truly. I brought several volumes from our library that I thought would help in my teaching. Should we need additional works, I will send for them.”

“If you need to purchase anything,” Carolina said, the formality returning to her voice, “my father said he will make all the arrangements.”

“I will keep that in mind. For now, I believe we are ready to begin.”

They were barely settled at the trestle table when a tall broad-shouldered Negro appeared in the doorway, a small footstool and pillow in hand.

“Miz Adams sent me with these for Massa James,” he said.

“Thank you, Jericho,” said Carolina. Then turning to James she explained, “Father has instructed Jericho to assist you while you are here. He will be your personal manservant.”

“That is most kind,” said James.

“Where would y’all like me to put these?” asked Jericho.

“Here by the table for now.”

Jericho positioned the stool and pillow, making certain James’ foot was propped up comfortably. He then retreated to the bedroom to take charge of unpacking his new master’s things.

The sound of Jericho’s activity, accompanied by a tune the man was softly humming, drifted through the partially opened door. James hoped that the close proximity of another would help dispel Carolina’s undeniable tension. But she continued to appear as uneasy as a child about to be upbraided by her father.

Unable to restrain his curiosity about the cause of this, James finally said, “You look as though you’ve swallowed a vial of poison. Are you nervous?”

Carolina was openly taken aback by this frontal attack. “I most certainly am not! Why in the world would I be nervous?”

James shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest clue. Perhaps I misread the . . . situation.”

“I’m sure that must be it.” Still, her tone was taut, her protests far too ready.

“Why don’t you see if there is writing material in that secretary,” James said, making a concerted attempt to overlook the odd friction he was feeling between them.

Carolina hesitated, conflicting emotions flickering across her face—emotions James was at a total loss to fathom. He thought once again that he ought to be grateful for this most interesting reception he was receiving from his pupil. Yet he felt fairly certain she would be that much more infuriated if she had even the slightest inkling that she was little more than an amusement, a distraction. Not that she was, of course! James had already decided to treat this situation seriously. But there was no reason why he should be bored in the process. Nevertheless, he felt her treatment of him was unwarranted, and it was beginning to irk him.

Glancing up, James raised a brow. “You are certain nothing is amiss?”

Obviously flustered, Carolina drew a deep breath, scurried to the secretary, and withdrew the requested items. When she returned to the trestle bench, she sat down quite prim and properly, leaving a two-foot space between them.

“Now, I understand you have a desire to learn Latin,” he began. “I have a good command of the language, as well as Greek. Would you care to learn Greek?” He made notes on the paper, hoping it would put her at ease.

“Well . . . yes,” she answered hesitantly. “I would very much like that.”

“Good.” He wrote out the words Latin and Greek at the top of the page. “Next, mathematics. Your father told me that you did quite well in school. How far did you get in arithmetic?”

Carolina folded her hands. “I’ve been teaching myself algebra,” she stated proudly.

“Oh? And how are you coming along?”

“Well enough. I can solve for ‘x’ in simple situations.”

He noted this on the paper. “Are you familiar with the various properties? Associative? Distributive? Commutative?”

Her answer was stiff and formal. “I know them well enough in definition, but at times the application can be difficult.”

James wrote several additional lines before pausing. Silence filled the room and seemed to displace his thoughts for a moment. He glanced at her and her eyes skittered away. He frowned.

“Will that be all for now?” Carolina asked. He thought he detected an air of inexplicable defiance in her tone.

And despite any previous gratitude for the distraction she was providing, he found himself perturbed. “Look . . .” he said, laying down the quill brusquely. He saw no other way to deal with it other than to simply address the matter at hand. Glancing over his shoulder at the open door, he lowered his voice. “If I have done something to offend you,
Miss Adams
”—he gave a pointed emphasis to his final words—“I believe I at least deserve the courtesy of hearing what it is so I can defend myself.”