Distant Dreams (43 page)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cabot,” she began through a tight throat. She held out the book. “I cannot accept this gift from you; neither can I accept your suggestion of courtship.” There. She’d said the words and now he would give her a hurtful look, a polite bow, and leave her company forever.

It was not to be.

To Carolina’s complete embarrassment, her mother entered the open door looking quite angry. “Carolina, you forget your manners.”

Carolina said nothing of her mother’s poor manners of eavesdropping, though the words were hovering close to utterance.

Hampton turned and gave Margaret a brief bow. “I’m afraid it is my fault, Mrs. Adams. The boldness of my ardor has offended your daughter. I suggested we speak to Mr. Adams regarding the possibility of our courtship.”

Margaret smiled. “I assure you, Mr. Cabot, my husband and I would find it quite acceptable for you to pay court to our daughter. Carolina is an innocent young woman who is new to this realm of womanhood. It is merely a case of nerves that gives her cause to reject your suggestion. However, I will answer not only for my husband and myself, but for her as well.”

Carolina turned an appalled look upon her mother, yet she well knew there would be no questioning the edict her mother was giving—not in Hampton’s presence at any rate.

“Carolina will be happy to receive you as a caller,” Margaret added, as if to punctuate her last pronouncement.

Hampton smiled generously at Margaret Adams, then turned to offer the same to Carolina. He bowed low over her still-extended hand and, ignoring the clutched book, turned it and placed a warm kiss upon her hand.

It was the first time a man had touched his lips to her skin, and Carolina nearly bolted from the settee to run from the room. Had Hampton lingered over her, or maintained his touch by holding her hand further, she would have done just that. Instead, he dismissed himself with a self-satisfied look of accomplishment and left mother and daughter to face each other.

“Mother, how could you?” Carolina demanded the moment they were alone. She was grateful Hampton had thoughtfully closed the door.

“I do this because you are too inexperienced to see the value for yourself. Hampton Cabot comes from a fine family, and while he was orphaned at eighteen and left nearly destitute after paying his father’s expenses and such, he has amassed a small fortune of his own by working hard for your father. The Cabots were dear, dear friends, and I believe you could do far worse. Certainly they are acceptable to genteel society, and—”

“Stop!” Carolina sat back in complete exasperation. “I have no desire to court anyone.”

“You are sixteen years old. I will not allow another daughter of mine to be overly choosy in her selection of a mate. You children these days think that the moon and the stars must shine between you and your choice of a spouse. It is far more important, I tell you, to make a financially secure choice and forget about this silly notion of love.”

“So you will pack me off to the highest bidder as though I were one of the slaves?”

The sound of a slap against her cheek echoed in the room. Margaret stared at Carolina, stunned by her own actions. “I’ve never been so spoken to by a child of mine,” she said in a shaky voice.

Carolina bit back another angry retort and jumped to her feet. “I’m not without feeling, though you might wish it so. A heart beats here,” she said, slapping the book against her breast. “A mind, quite useful and capable, dwells here.” She touched her head. “Would you have me ignore their bidding?”

“What of God’s bidding?” Margaret questioned gravely. “What of His direction to be a keeper of the home? The Bible clearly instructs young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed.”

Carolina wasn’t surprised her mother had that verse memorized. “Father said that verse was directed to wives, of which I am not one. Nor do I desire to become one anytime soon.”

“Perhaps your father will be able to talk sense to you. You obviously do not care about my heart on the matter. I’ve tried to raise you up properly. I’ve tried to be a good mother and offer sound counsel.” She sat down wearily on the settee deserted by Carolina. “I do not seek to make you unhappy. It is my love for you that drives me to secure for you a good home. My worst nightmare is to imagine my children turned out on the streets without a penny to their name. Should something happen to your father or this place, where would any of us be?”

Carolina wanted to feel sorry for her mother, and in fact, a part of her sympathized with what the woman obviously saw as her parental duty. But this was her life they were talking about, and marriage to Hampton Cabot did not strike an appealing chord in any measure.

“I’m sorry for my outburst.” Carolina wanted to say more but didn’t know what would possibly offer comfort except her approval of the courtship, which she could never give.

“Simply give the man a try,” Margaret said in a more moderate tone. “I don’t ask you to marry a man you find abhorrent. Simply court him and consider his character. Your father thinks quite highly of him, and he doesn’t offer such praise without it being fully merited.”

Before she could answer, a knock on the door brought in Bartholomew. “The post, Miz Adams.” He handed up several letters, newspapers, and periodicals.

“Thank you,” Margaret said, dismissing the man. A quick examination revealed an item for Carolina. “This, I believe, is addressed to you. How very strange.”

It was a new issue of the
American Railroad Journal
. For a moment Carolina wondered where it could have come from, and then she remembered that night in the garden and James Baldwin’s announcement of this birthday gift. Reaching out to take the journal, Carolina realized she still held Hampton’s unopened package in her hand.

An odd sensation of mingled regret and confused emotion coursed through her as she considered James’ gift from the past and Hampton’s promise for the future. The latter was of little or no interest to her, and the other
should
be of no interest but was. And the truth was hard to ignore, especially in light of the weekly reminder that would now come her way via the post.

The picture that graced the top of the journal momentarily distracted her mind from the two men and from the questioning gaze of her mother. It was a locomotive engine, sporting an engineer and full head of steam, pulling a car of wool and two more of passengers. Carolina was mesmerized for a moment. She could almost hear the whistle blow in that sad pining way.

Clutching the book and journal to her breast, she lifted tear-filled eyes to her mother. “I need to lie down,” she said and walked from the room without further explanation.

47

Talk With a Friend

Julia Cooper had married William Cooper only the summer before. She and Carolina had grown up together, ridden together, were schooled together, and socialized as young women who’d not yet been presented into society. She was the closest and dearest friend Carolina had. Marriage had changed all of that. Now a very proper matron of society, albeit a very young matron, Julia was the type of daughter and wife that Carolina could not bring herself to be.

Carolina watched her friend with new eyes and yearned to express to Julia her deepest heartfelt secrets, yet something in her friend’s reserved demeanor kept Carolina silent.

“They say Mother outdid herself in France,” Julia commented, lifting a dainty china cup to her perfectly pouty lips. “There were over three hundred guests for Grandmere’s birthday party, and the American ambassador was there as well. I wish Will and I could have joined in, but he said we needed to be practical. We were, after all, in Europe last year for our honeymoon.”

“It sounds absolutely wonderful,” Carolina remarked a bit more wistfully than she’d intended.

Julia smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll find a husband and enjoy a delightful honeymoon of your own.”

Carolina realized immediately that Julia presumed her desire was for the honeymoon rather than the travel. “Mother wishes I would marry immediately.”

“Is there a prospect for marriage you’ve not shared with me?”

Carolina looked around the room nervously. “Let’s walk in the garden, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Julia nodded and put down her cup.

A light breeze blew, easing the summer heat. The Adams’ gardens were well known for their beauty and variety of vegetation, and it was here that the two young women continued their conversation beneath the shade of parasols.

Julia Cooper, nearly the same height as Carolina, was by far the more petite of the two women. Her waist was barely sixteen inches when corseted, and her delicate bone structure led one to conclude that she was a fragile delicacy to be gently cared for. But to Carolina she was simply Julia. Julia, who had climbed over the wooden fence behind Bickerman’s Mill in order to rescue a stray dog from certain death. Julia, who had agreed to and beaten out Carolina’s brother Maine in a secret horseback race after school one day. Thinking of those carefree days of childhood, Carolina wondered if perhaps Julia would, after all, understand her dilemmas.

“My father’s commission merchant Hampton Cabot has been staying on with us. He has taken an interest in me and has received my parents’ permission to court me.”

“How exciting!” Julia exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Is he handsome and well-bred?”

“I suppose so,” Carolina replied with a frown. Somehow this wasn’t the direction she’d hoped to take.

“Tell me all about him,” Julia insisted.

Carolina stopped against a backdrop of flowering wisteria. “I wouldn’t know where to start. He’s very tall, very big, and very bold. I don’t care for him or his attitude. He pampers and coddles me and I detest it.”

“Tsk, tsk. You could do much worse. Does your father think highly of him as a suitor and prospective son-in-law?”

“I suppose he must. My mother certainly does. Mr. Cabot was the son of good friends. When they died, my father took him under his care, and I suppose the rest is a matter of history. My father has benefited with Mr. Cabot as his commissioner. New York City is no place for amateurs, so I imagine Mr. Cabot to be very good at what he does. He wears fine clothes and seems to have an understanding and taste for the better things of life; therefore, I surmise he has done well for himself.”

Julia appeared to consider this information behind knitted brows. “So what is it that you detest about him besides the fact that he treats you as a proper southern gentleman should?”

Carolina emitted a heavy sigh. “Julia, you seem so changed by married life. And perhaps that’s fine for you, but the prospect scares me to death. I simply have no desire to rush into the institution.”

Julia laughed and twirled her parasol. “Married life has its benefits, and don’t be so naive as to suggest you don’t know full well what I mean.”

“Julia!” Carolina exclaimed. “You shouldn’t talk of such things.”

“Well, for all those old frumpy matrons who insist that marital duties are sheer drudgery and torture, I am here as proof that it is otherwise.” Carolina’s mouth dropped open, but before she could speak Julia continued. “Carolina, dear, you know I didn’t marry Will for love. But I do love him now. I’ve grown to love him, just as Mother and everyone else said I would. There are far worse things than falling in love with a man and sharing his bed.”

“Julia, you positively shock me!”

“Why? We used to suppose about such things and share our thoughts amidst childish giggles. Our imagination was nothing compared to the truth. I am simply being honest. And to tell the truth, it is you, Carolina, who appears to be changed.”

Carolina took a hard look at her friend. “I suppose you are right. But I simply can’t help it if I want things that are unusual for a young woman. I didn’t set out to be . . . different.” She sighed. “I know there is nothing I cannot talk to you about, but I feel so isolated. You are married and your entire world is now that of Mrs. William Cooper.”

“Don’t let me play you false,” Julia said with a bit of a smirk, “there is still plenty of the old Julia to wreak havoc upon poor Will Cooper and his very proper world.”

Carolina smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I suppose one of my worst fears is that I’ll marry a man and be forever remolded into whatever it is he expects me to be. There’s so much I’m not ready to relinquish to marriage or a man. Then, too, perhaps I’ve not met the right man.”

“Ah, but this Mr. Cabot just might be the right man, and you aren’t giving him a chance. Has he given you any real reason to spurn his interest?”

“I suppose he hasn’t. Although he is very bold and forward.”

“There was a time when the Carolina Adams I knew would have cherished and respected that in a man. Wasn’t it you who said you detested the games played in courtship?”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t know the way to play them,” Carolina admitted.

The sound of feminine laughter caught their attention, and Julia put a finger quickly to her lips to silence Carolina. Then, just like two naughty children, they went in search of the laughter.

Carolina knew it was Virginia’s laugh. She knew, too, that James was her companion that day. She knew these things because she’d gone out of her way to avoid them both. They were supposed to be out riding, and Carolina hadn’t feared the possibility of running into them while entertaining Julia because they weren’t expected back for some time. Yet here they were, laughing and teasing each other with such an air of genuine affection that Carolina wanted to bolt and run from the pain of it.

“James, you do make me blush,” Virginia was saying in a sickly sweet drawl.

Carolina and Julia observed the couple unseen from behind a latticed archway. Miriam stood near, a silent chaperone, as Virginia hung on James’ arm and peered up at him with all the adoration of a woman in love—either that or a woman who was about to drown and hoped the man would throw her a lifeline, Carolina thought sarcastically.

“Well, it wouldn’t be right of me not to praise your loveliness,” James said smoothly. “And this garden does pale in comparison to your beauty.” James leaned down and plucked a rose to offer Virginia.