Storm Clouds Rolling In (37 page)

Carrie sighed again
—a deep sigh wrung from the depths of her heart. No matter how much she might want it, she couldn’t go back to the way she was before. Even without trying, she knew the effort would be futile. She was on this path whether she wanted it or not. She would just have to see where it would lead.

EIGHTEEN

“Good morning, dear. How are you?” Thomas peered into his daughter’s eyes when she opened the door in response to his knock.

Carrie knew he was searching deeper into her heart.
She summoned a bright smile. “I feel wonderful, Father! Isn’t it a beautiful day? This is our last one here in Richmond. I want to make the most of it.”

Thomas returned her smile but couldn’t hide the puzzled look on his face.

“I’m starving.
Let’s go find some breakfast,” Carrie said, anxious to escape his knowing eyes. Carrie knew he had come to find out what had been bothering her the night before. She saw him shake his head in confusion before he moved to catch up with her.

Carrie was not really surprised when Robert rose from a chair in the lobby to meet them.
“Good morning, Robert,” she said gaily. “I hope you had a good night’s sleep!”
Careful,
she warned herself.
You don’t want to sound too cheerful.

Robert fell into step beside her.
“Slept like a top,” he said. “I was hoping you and your father wouldn’t mind if I joined you for breakfast.”

“Not at all,” Carrie responded graciously.

Their early morning cheer was too forced and the confused look on her father’s face confirmed it. Well, she was an adult. He didn’t have to know everything that was going on between her and Robert. Her mutinous thoughts surprised her.
I will have a chance to talk with him later on the way home
, she thought as she took her place at the table.

Thomas ordered breakfast and turned to Robert.
“Did you and your young journalist friend talk much about the upcoming Republican Convention, Robert?”

Robert shook his head.
“There seemed to be enough action on the Democratic side to keep us occupied, sir. From all I hear, Seward is sure to be the Republican nominee.”

Thomas nodded, his face creased with tension.
“I fear that is true.”

“Stop it!”
Carrie, knowing her voice bordered on hysteria, managed to bring it under control with difficulty, while her father stared at her in surprise. She tried to make her tone light as she repeated her words. “Stop it, you two. Must every waking moment be spent talking politics and what is going on in this country? I’m sick of it.” Visions of Louisa floated through her mind, but she pushed them back and forced a cheerful note. “I am in Richmond with the two best looking men I know. I simply refuse to have every minute of my last day here darkened with distressing talk.”

Thomas exchanged glances with Robert and acquiesced graciously.
“I’m sorry, Carrie. What would you like to talk about? And how would you like to spend the rest of the day?” he asked quietly.

Carrie shrugged, not sure her victory held any meaning for her.
Was she not just playing a silly game? Then her body stiffened. So be it! If she was playing a game, it was surely better than the reality surrounding her at every turn. She pushed away the thought that she detested game-playing.

“Mr. Cromwell, didn’t you say you wanted to go visit your friend Mr. Lind who lives north of the city?”
Robert asked. He smiled broadly when Thomas nodded. “The
John Marshall
is in dock right now. I heard that it is leaving later this morning for Lynchburg. Carrie and I could take a trip on the
John Marshall
and have it drop us off at Lind’s landing. All of us could come back in your carriage.” He paused. “I also hear there is a new production at Metropolitan Hall tonight. I would be honored if you would accompany me, Carrie.”

Carrie smiled with delight.
“
The John Marshall
! Isn’t that the wonderful packet boat?” Robert nodded. “And Metropolitan Hall? I’ve always wanted to go there.” She turned to her father, excitement gleaming from her eyes. “It sounds like a wonderful plan. What do you think?”

             
“I agree, Carrie. You’ll have a wonderful time on board. I was planning on spending the day with my friend Lind. It’s important I do so in order to live up to my agreement with Governor Letcher.” He pushed back from the stable and stood. “I should be leaving soon. I’ll see you upriver.”

The bustling port at the end of
Eighth Street teemed with activity. Fashionably dressed passengers arrived at the landing both by carriage and by foot. The ticket office did a steady trade as baggage was passed up to the boat and carefully stowed by the crew.

Carrie almost danced as she made her way down the hill leading to the landing.
She had decided to have a good day in spite of the turmoil boiling in her soul. “The
John Marshall
! I’ve heard so much about it.”

Robert merely smiled at her excitement.
“I’ll be back in a moment with our tickets.”

Carrie took the opportunity to look around.
The Kanawha Canal was a marvel to her. It had first extended seven miles to afford safe passage around the Richmond Falls. Packet boats now ran daily trips between the capital city and Lynchburg, over one hundred miles away. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it had taken to dig such a massive canal for that long of a distance.

“Daydreaming on such a beautiful day?”

Carrie opened her eyes and smiled into Robert’s teasing ones. “Not daydreaming. I’m just trying to imagine what it took to create this canal.”

“Most of it done by hand, too, with pickaxe and shovel.
Germans, Scots and Irish, brought over and hired to do the job, did most of the work. Along with the help of hired-out slaves.” Robert turned toward the boat. “I have the tickets. Are you ready to go on board?”

Carrie followed willingly, breathing in deep draughts of fresh air.
The day could not have been more perfect. There was nothing to mar the blue flawlessness of the sky. The sun was warm but promised to not be too hot. A light breeze ruffled her hair and made her full skirts sway lightly.

“All aboard!”

Carrie hurried aboard, taking in all the details of the boat. The roof of the packet boat, open to the weather, looked like a garden. At fourteen feet by ninety feet, it provided ample space for the passengers on board. Carrie knew the enclosed lower deck would be the site of supper, and would then be divided into sleeping compartments for men and women during the thirty-three hour trip. Sometime it would be fun to travel all the way to Lynchburg, but she was content for now.

“Will you be up for some dancing later, Miss Cromwell?”

“Dancing?” Carrie echoed, gazing in the direction Robert was indicating. She smiled with delight when she saw several men warming up their banjos and guitars. “How fun!”

The boat moved slowly as it was pushed under the bridge on 7th Street.
Once clear of the bridge, horses were hitched to continue its slow travel until the
John Marshall
passed the crowd of boats moored near the edge of the city. Carrie laughed with delight when the horses broke into a trot and the boat responded with a lively jerk. Thrown off balance, she made no protest when Robert reached out to steady her with his hand. She merely smiled at him when he continued to let it rest on her arm. She leaned into the railing and watched as the cutwater threw up its spray. As they rounded Penitentiary Hill, she looked up and caught one last glimpse of the city before it disappeared.

Carrie turned around and noticed most of the men had drifted off into little conversation knots.
Robert was watching them with a gleam in his eye. “Want to join them?”

“Not on your life,” Robert responded quickly.
He took Carrie by the arm and led her to a bench situated on the aft of the boat. “I’ll be back with some cold lemonade in just a minute.”

Carrie watched while he disappeared down the stairs
that led to the lower deck, and then turned her attention to the rest of the passengers. Packet boats were still the preferred mode of travel for most well-bred Richmonders, but her father told her the reliable old boats were soon to be outdone by the railroad. Carrie knew the train was much faster, but it had none of the romanticism of the old boats. She watched as young girls and women gathered around tables for backgammon, all the time well aware of the activities of eligible young men on board. Knots of men lounged against the railing as they debated and argued.

“I tell you, if Seward is elected the whole country will fall into ruin
.”

Carrie frowned as bits of a conversation floated over to where she was sitting.
She smiled with relief when Robert returned with a cold glass of lemonade, and reached for it eagerly. She was determined nothing was going to ruin the magic of her day. Just then, an outburst of music sounded from the foredeck.

“I think that’s our signal, Miss Cromwell,” Robert said as he reached for her hand and led her to the front of the deck.
Minutes later, a rousing version of the Virginia reel turned the deck into a kaleidoscope of changing colors as bright dresses flashed among the figures.

“Enough!”
Carrie laughed breathlessly as she grabbed Robert by the hand and led him to the railing after eight straight dances. “It’s too warm out here for this.”

“Ah, Miss Cromwell, you disappoint me.
I thought dancing was in your soul.”

“And I’ve always heard it is quite improper for a young lady to sweat like a horse in the presence of a young gentleman.”

The bantering continued between the two as the packet boat forged up the river. Luxuriant green pastures and hills lined the shores. Trees and brush formed a veritable forest in some places and then would thin and disappear as another of the majestic James River plantations would claim its superior position on a passing hill. The sun hit high noon and began its westerly descent as the two talked.

“Lind’s Landing!”
the captain called.

Carrie started and laughed.
“I can’t believe we’re already here. Look! There’s my father with Mr. Lind.” She smiled and looked up into Robert’s eyes. “Thank you. I had a wonderful time.”

Within minutes she was being ushered into the cool confines of Lind’s opulent plantation manor.
A servant was waiting to take her to a room where she could freshen herself. She had instructions to appear for dinner in thirty minutes.

“No talk of what we discussed this afternoon, Lind.”
Thomas lit his cigar and sat back in his chair. He hastened to explain when his friend looked at him, puzzled. “Carrie has about had her fill of it for now. Something is bothering her, but I’m blamed if I know what it is. For now, I’m going to give her what she wants.” He paused. “We’ve discussed what I came to talk about anyway.”

Lind laughed.
“I think you misread my puzzled look. I had no intention of talking politics at the supper table. My wife would have my head. Not to mention that she wouldn’t understand a word of it. I don’t think women and politics mix. Do you?”