by Ginny Dye
Slowly, they walked back up the trail, both loathe to end their time together. “When do you leave for Charleston?” Carrie asked.
“Today. My driver is taking me straight to the train station.” He paused. “I find myself even more eager to attend the Democratic Convention then before. After hearing Ruffin talk last night, I have a feeling it is going to be quite a show.”
“I want to hear all about it when you return.”
“I’m sure you do,” Robert responded with a smile.
“You find it funny?”
“Not at all. I find it refreshing, for I believe you actually mean it.”
Carrie stopped and stared at him. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?”
“Carrie... you have no idea how different you are.”
Carrie grinned ruefully. “You are wrong, kind sir. I know exactly how different I am. My mother tells me constantly that she wishes I could be more like her and the other girls my age who are becoming exactly what they were destined to be.”
Robert shrugged. “How boring.”
Carrie smiled at him brightly. “How right you are!”
Robert laughed loudly. “I like you just the way you are. Please don’t change to fit what everyone wants. I would miss your refreshing honesty.”
Carrie grimaced. “I shouldn’t worry if I were you. I tried to change. I can’t. I guess the world is stuck with me!” Then she smiled and increased her pace up the trail. “In fact, the whole world is going to be awake soon. I want to be back before anyone knows I’m gone.”
Robert suddenly grinned as they rounded the final curve. “You’re too late. I think the world is already awake. Seems to be a lot of activity going on around here.”
Carrie looked up and gasped. Gone were her illusions of slipping back into the house unnoticed. For the first time she thought of her casual appearance. Her hand flew to her head and she gasped as she felt the riot of hair that had escaped her careless braid. Her face turned a crimson red. “I can’t go in like this!”
Robert laughed again, louder. Carrie noticed heads swivel toward them. “You’re still the most beautiful woman here. Now go - and hold your head high.”
Carrie gave him one despairing look. Then she turned and forced herself to walk slowly across the lawn. She bestowed a grave smile on the two carriages full of families leaving early to start the long drive home. She knew she would hear about this from her mother. Forcing herself to maintain a stately walk, she continued up the graveled path to the porch. Just as she reached the first step she looked up to see Louisa glaring down at her from the balcony extended off her room.
Carrie barely contained her moan of dismay. Louisa stared down at her with a look that could kill and then lifted her eyes. Carrie followed her gaze. She could have cried when she saw Robert still standing where she had left him. As she turned, he smiled broadly and lifted his hat in farewell. Then he turned back into the woods. She knew he was giving her time to go in. Steeling herself not to look up, Carrie lifted her skirts and slowly climbed the stairs. She smiled as the butler let her in - trying to control his look of surprise.
She held her head high.
ELEVEN
Carrie breathed a deep sigh of relief when the Cromwell carriage rolled away from Blackwell Plantation. It was still just ten o’oclock in the morning, but she felt like this day had already lasted forever. Thank heavens for the wonderful memory of spending time with Robert down by the river. She had surely been paying for it ever since.
Louisa had said not a word when Carrie had arrived, flushed and disheveled, in her room. Her pointed silence and withering looks had needed no words to impart their message. Sally and Natalie’s looks had been kinder but they hadn’t spoken either. They seemed to be too shocked. Carrie had wanted to laugh - to explain what an innocent rendezvous it really was. But then she had grown angry and her anger had made her match their silence with her own. Let them think what they wanted to. If they were all so eager to jump to such erroneous conclusions, then let them! She said not a word as she changed into a more suitable dress. She had not even had to ask for help with her hair; she deftly braided her hair and secured it into a bun every bit as good a one as Rose could have done. Well! At least I’ve proven I can do this.
The silent treatment continued as she descended downstairs for breakfast. Good heavens! Had the whole world been watching when she emerged from the woods with Robert Borden? Did the whole world jump to horrible conclusions when they saw something they didn’t understand? What was so terrible? All they had done was sit by the river and talk. Nothing improper had happened. What big difference did it make anyway if they weren’t properly chaperoned? Carrie grew angry as her indignation grew.
She had seen Robert’s carriage leave before she finished preparing for breakfast. Part of her was angry she had to face all this scathing disapproval alone. Another part was very glad he had escaped the ridiculous humiliation they had done nothing to deserve. Only her father seemed still in possession of some common sense. He had arrived downstairs and given her the same loving smile as always - had even walked over to lay a supportive arm over her shoulder. Her mother’s suffering silence said all it needed to.
Wasn’t anyone going to even ask what had happened? Carrie was learning first hand how many people care so little for the truth when the results of their imagination feed their thirst for scandal. Her desire to lash out in fury was intermingled with a need to laugh hysterically. The whole situation was so ridiculous. How had this happened? Her bewilderment grew along with her anger.
Just then she spied Louisa in the far corner, her head bent low in serious conversation with Mrs. Waterton, a neighbor who lived a few miles north. Carrie barely knew her, though she well knew her reputation for being a ruthless gossip. Mrs. Waterton looked up with a grim smile and then locked her eyes on Carrie. The older lady observed her coolly for a few moments before she looked away haughtily. So that was it! This was Louisa’s revenge for not being chosen Queen - for being thwarted in her attempt to add Robert to her list of suitors. Carrie had seen enough. She rose slowly from the table, raised her head high and sailed from the room. Let these people say and think what they wanted. She, Carrie Cromwell, had done nothing to be ashamed of. Out of deference to her mother she was not going to make a scene. But she most certainly was not going to continue to sit there like a lamb being led to slaughter.
Once upstairs, she dashed into Louisa’s room, ripped off her traveling dress, and put back on the dress she had worn that morning. Back downstairs, she stopped only long enough on her way to whisper something to her father, and then escaped from the curious stares and whispers. She felt herself coming back under control as she took deep breaths of the fresh, morning air. By the time she got to the stables she could once again see the humor in the situation. Let them talk! In another few days someone else would do something not fitting in with proper plantation protocol and remove the attention from her. Gossip always had to have fresh meat to feed on. Wagging tongues quickly tired of old news. This would pass.
Carrie was once more enjoying the day when she led Granite, fully tacked, from the barn. She was proud of the fact she had declined all help from Charles. He had been mortified, sure he would be punished for letting her do it. “Oh, pooh, Charles,” she had scoffed. “I made Miles teach me how to do it years ago. I’m just not in the mood to play the southern lady today. I need to do this.” He had stepped aside with what looked like a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes and just watched quietly.
Thomas Cromwell was standing on the front porch of the plantation mansion when Carrie trotted smoothly up the driveway. He tried to suppress a smile, but said nothing until she had pulled Granite to a halt. They both completely ignored the stares of the others on the porch.
“Good morning, Father.”
“Good morning, daughter.” He made no attempt to hide the laughter in his eyes.
Carrie smiled and leaned forward slightly. “I’ll explain later.”
T
homas needed easily. “That’s good enough for me.”
Carrie heart surged with love for her father. He knew that whatever had happened this morning must be quite innocent. She knew he trusted her. “I’m not riding home in the carriage,” she said.
“I assumed as much.”
“I don’t think it would be a very good idea. Mother seems to be feeding at the gossip table.”
Thomas frowned slightly. “She loves you, Carrie.”
“Yes. And I love her. But I have no intention of bearing with silent disapproval all the way home.” She knew her father hated being put between the two women he loved so much.
“You could always explain it to her.”
Carrie tossed her head. “I will. But not now. She could have asked me this morning. Before she decided her wayward daughter had done something else scandalous.” Then she softened. “I just need to be on Granite today, Father. I truly don’t want to upset Mother.”
Thomas nodded and gave her a gentle smile. “As long as you talk to her later. Your mother will be okay. I’ll talk to her.” He reached into his pocket for his watch and examined it. “Charles will be here in a few minutes. I plan on our leaving in twenty minutes. You need to go in and say good-bye to the Blackwells.” He smiled at her mutinous look. “It won’t make you feel any better to lower yourselves to their standards. It takes great courage to continue being a lady in the face of gossip and misunderstanding. Go in there and show them you’re a better person than they are.”
Carrie stared into his eyes for a long moment – drawing from the strength she saw there. Her lips tightened for a moment before she dismounted lightly. She handed reins to a nearby servant, ran lightly up the stairs and gave her father a hug. “Thanks. I’ll make you proud of me.”
Thomas put his hand under her chin and tilted her eyes to meet his own. “I’m always proud of you, Carrie.” Then he gave her a gentle shove. “Go make yourself proud.”
Carrie forced a smile to her lips as she went in and told her host and his wife good-bye. “It’s been quite lovely. Thank you so much for a wonderful time. I do hope I see you again soon.” Alfred and Lucy Blackwell were both gracious. Carrie felt a flash of triumph when she saw the look of begrudging admiration in Lucy Blackwell’s eyes. Her father had been right. The only way to meet gossip was head on. “Where is Louisa? I’d like to tell her goodbye.”
Louisa’s father shook his head slightly. “She left the house a few minutes ago. I have no idea where she went.”
Lucy Blackwell turned to her husband and protested, “Why, I never saw her leave the house. I’ve been standing right here.”
Her husband fixed his wife with a stern look. “I saw her leave, I tell you.” She merely stared at him. He looked back at Carrie with a smile. “I’ll tell her you asked after her. I would hate for you to be late leaving. I think I hear your mother coming downstairs.”
Carrie smiled back at him. She knew what he was doing. Louisa’s poison tongue was no secret to her father. “Thank you, Mr. Blackwell. Please do tell her I had a lovely time.” She sailed out of the house and down the stairs to where Granite was waiting. Her father had been right. Facing up to it had made her feel much better. She could do nothing to stop the gossiping tongues of her neighbors. But she could indeed show herself she was above them. Her heart was light as she led Granite to the mounting block and sprung easily into the saddle.
On the way home, from her position on top of Granite moving at a steady trot slightly in front of the carriage, she could see her father’s head bent as he talked to his wife. Carrie knew he was trying to ease the way for her. Poor Father! Surely he must grow tired of the tension between his wife and daughter.
The sun was barely above the horizon when, Eulalia, dozing in the next room, heard Ike moving around. She had hoped he would sleep later, at least long enough to get the kids out of the house. She knew a pounding headache would add to his meanness this morning. She imagined him cradling his head in his hands as he tried to remember how he had gotten home last night. She heard him groan as he staggered to his feet. She jumped up from her bed and eased into the kitchen. Her presence would make her, not the children, the target for Ike’s anger.
He turned to her, growling. “Where you been, woman? Where is my breakfast?”
“Your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, Ike.” She dashed to the fireplace and stirred the coals until she had a small blaze going. She longed to have a wood cook stove like some of her other friends, but as long as Ike spent most of his wages on alcohol it would remain a dream. She poured water from a pitcher into the black kettle and hung it over the flames. Coffee would help her husband. She turned from the fire, cut a few slabs of bacon, and then sliced several thick pieces of bread. Eating would give him another channel for his anger. She wasn’t afraid now. He woke up from his binges mad, but not dangerous. The scars from his verbal tirades could not be seen by her children.
Ike cursed under his breath and headed into the bedroom. She heard water splashing as he performed his usual inadequate wash-up. Water was still dripping from his hair as he lurched out of the bedroom a few minutes later, still clad in the same clothes he had worn all weekend.
Cromwell would not be pleased. He set high standards for everyone - including his overseer. Keeping her voice light, she said, “I got you some clean clothes on the line. I’ll bring them right in.” Then she held her breath.
Ike’s lips tightened in fury but the cold water splashed on his face had cleared his brain a little more. He looked down at his disheveled clothing. “Well, hurry up, woman. You’d think God could have given me a wife who cared a little more about her man. I work hard six days a week for you. The least you could do is have clothes ready when I need them.”
Eulalia pressed her lips closed. She had deliberately not told him there was a clean set hanging on the wardrobe. He would only have thought she was belittling him for not seeing them. She poured a cup of hot coffee for him and hurried outside to get the clothes.
Ike gobbled down his food, slurped his coffee in silence, changed his clothes and then grunted before moving slowly out of the door. Minutes later she heard him riding down the road. She had no use for niggers any more than her husband did but she felt a small twinge of sympathy. Ike had had a mean look in his eyes when he rode off. She knew that anger would erupt on someone today. She only hoped it was gone before he got home.
“Hello, Sam,” Carrie called gaily as she entered the house. Eager to see Rose, Carrie had released Granite to Miles and run into the house. The carriage was just now entering the drive. Impatient to get home, she had urged Granite into a gallop as soon as they entered the long road leading to Cromwell Plantation. She had laughed loudly as she imagined her mother shaking her head at another exhibition of her daughter’s wild impulsiveness.
“Welcome home, Miss Carrie.”
Carrie acknowledged his greeting with a wave of her hand and ran up the stairs. Just as she hoped, Rose was waiting in the room. “Rose! I missed you.”
Rose smiled widely. “I missed you, too, Miss Carrie.”
“Oh, Rose! It was glorious! Mr. Borden and Granite won the Tournament.” Excitedly, she spilled out the details. Rose moved forward to help her remove her dress. Carrie waved her away. “That can wait. I could hardly wait to get home and tell you about my time.” Her face radiated as she told Rose of the ball... how Robert had chosen her for the Queen... how angry Louisa had been... how much fun she’d had dancing. She told Rose everything - just like she always had.
Rose sat quietly.
Carrie finally grew silent. She leaned forward and looked closely into her friend’s face. “You’re so quiet, Rose. Is something wrong?”
Rose just shook her head and smiled slightly. “No, Miss Carrie. I’m fine. I was just listening to your story. It sounds like you had a wonderful time. I’m glad.”
Carrie continued to gaze into the other girl’s eyes. They had been friends for too long. She could read Rose’s face too
well. There was something...
Rose changed the subject. “Sadie is sick again. She’s down with a high fever.”
Carrie forgot everything when she heard that news. “Since when?” she asked sharply.
“She came in from the fields after a few hours this morning. Mama sent one of the children up from the Quarters to tell me.”
“I told her to stay out of the fields for a few days until she was well,” Carrie said sternly, silently berating herself because she hadn’t talked to Sadie when she saw her in the fields on Friday. Robert Borden and all the excitement had driven it from her mind.
Rose just shrugged.
Carrie looked down at her dress. “I don’t need to change. This dress will do fine to wear down to the Quarters. I’ll check on Sadie and come back for Mama if I need her. “
“Would you like me to come with you?”
Carrie thought for a moment. “Yes, I do. You can unpack my trunk later. It’s not going anywhere.”
Carrie was quiet as she walked quickly down the trail to the Quarters. Her mind worked furiously. Why had Sadie gone back to the fields? Why was her fever so high again? Carrie liked Sadie - her quick, gentle smile and the way her eyes lit up when she was happy. She suddenly realized she hadn’t seen that happen much lately. What was going on? Cromwell slaves had always seemed happy. As she walked, she saw now what she had been too blind to see before. The whole spirit in the Quarters was changed. A heaviness seemed to hang over everything. Is that what was bothering Rose? But they were best friends – why wouldn’t she tell her? She frowned and increased her speed. She intended to find out what was going on. The slaves trusted her. Surely Sadie would confide in her.
Carrie came to a stop in front of the cabin Sadie shared with several other women. Sadie’s husband, Willie, had died from a strange disease a few years before. Carrie’s mother had fought to save him but nothing she did worked. Sadie had lived here ever since. Carrie had been coming down to these cabins almost every day for as long as she could remember. Why now did they seem dark and oppressive? She had never thought anything of them before. Why now did she shudder at the thought of living under these conditions herself? Her father’s argument rose in her mind. It is our destiny to be masters over the slaves. It is their destiny to be slaves. It is our responsibility to take care of them because they can’t take care of themselves. Carrie frowned - the argument sounded weak to her. She shook her head and pushed open the cabin door. She would have to think about it later.