by Judith Pella
Joseph smiled. “I’m certain Carolina would enjoy it. As for myself, I would more greatly appreciate a visit with you. There are some things that have come to mind regarding the westward line, and I would like to share them with you.”
Philip nodded his consent, then turned to James. “Would it be too much of an imposition, Mr. Baldwin, to request you to attend with Miss Adams?”
James glanced at Carolina but received no indication from her as to her feelings on the matter. “I would be most happy to—if Miss Adams has no objections.”
“I’m sure I shouldn’t take up your time, Mr. Baldwin.” Her words were forced. “You have already been too kind.”
“My evening is completely free and at your disposal. What time is the concert?” he asked Thomas.
Philip handed him the tickets. “Six o’clock sharp.” A rumbling sound came from outside, causing all heads to turn to the window.
“You should allow yourself extra time in case the storm hasn’t passed by then. It looks as though God intervened so that you would not have to be out in such harsh weather, Miss Adams.”
Carolina only nodded soberly.
“I’ll be back to escort you at five-thirty.” James put the tickets in his vest pocket and took his leave.
44
Uncomfortable Questions
Carolina knew it was childish to be angry at James for the cancellation of their trip. But it seemed to her he hadn’t even tried to deal with the problem. The engineer had seemed quite positive about making repairs. Surely James must have known how much the trip meant to her. He could have at least attempted to do something about the snakehead. She didn’t understand his insensitivity at all.
And now she was going to have to spend the evening with him. She had only accepted because she knew it would have upset her father if she had stayed at home sulking. But she dreaded the prospect of the awkward evening ahead, and she feared she would certainly vent her ire to James about the trip. But even more, she feared exposing other far more sensitive feelings. Of course, since he was engaged to Virginia, no one thought anything of permitting them to go out unchaperoned. Ironically, James was the chaperon!
But down deep Carolina wondered if she had so easily accepted the invitation to the concert because she longed to be with James. This one time she could pretend James was truly her escort and that his interest would be on her and not on her fairer sister. That thought almost made her forget her anger over the aborted trip.
The white muslin gown she’d chosen for its lightweight coolness was elegant yet simple. The neck was softly rounded and modest, with handmade Irish lace offering a dainty trim. The sleeves were soft and pouffed, and the skirt, not quite as full and heavy as most, was trimmed with a single ruffle of muslin along the bottom hem of the gown. A pale pink ribbon tied around the waist was the only color against the stark white. Carolina’s dark hair was washed and shining to perfection. But after an hour of curling and struggling alone to pin it into a fashionable style, she wished she had heeded her mother’s suggestion to take Miriam along on the trip. But Miriam answered to Margaret and would have brought back tales of all Carolina’s activities, thus greatly limiting her freedom. In the end, however, she finally managed to make herself presentable. A capote-style bonnet of starched muslin completed her coiffure.
The housekeeper had just knocked on the door to announce Mr. Baldwin’s arrival as Carolina took up her shawl and handbag. Nervously, she descended the stairs and wondered what the evening might bring. James met her at the bottom of the stairs, handsomely attired in a dark wine-colored tailcoat. His trousers were black and fastened sous pieds with the leg secured under the foot, a style that was quite popular.
“Good evening,” he said, making a sweeping bow and taking her hand to his lips.
Carolina felt her face go flush. “Good evening.”
“Might I say,” James said quite formally, “you look radiantly lovely.”
“Thank you,” she murmured and uncomfortably took back her hand. “Is it still raining?”
“Not to speak of. The sky is quite overcast and very gloomy, but a parasol and closed carriage will suit us nicely. I refuse to have more plans ruined by such a small detail.” His lips quirked into a hesitant smile, and she sensed how bad he felt about the trip.
“Ah, there you are. My, don’t you look beautiful,” Joseph said upon entering the room. “I do hope this evening proves entertaining. Philip and I will discuss business here, and I have instructed young James to accompany you to dinner after the concert. If that meets with your approval, Carolina.”
James and Joseph both waited for her to assure them that it did meet with her approval, but Carolina found it difficult to speak. She realized how silly her illusions were about the evening. James was merely following her father’s instructions. “I wouldn’t . . . I mean,” she stammered, “we shouldn’t impose further upon James’ free time. After all, he’s already been good enough to escort me to the choral presentation.”
“And I will happily escort you to dinner as well. I know of a place near my uncle’s home, and the food is quite delectable.”
“See there?” Joseph said, coming forward to give her a parting kiss on the cheek. “The matter is clearly settled, and you needn’t have worried about interfering with James’ evening. Besides, he no doubt pines for your sister, and at least you can offer him companionship.”
Carolina felt her throat constrict at these words but pretended to be unaffected. She merely nodded and allowed James to lead her to the door. Once there, James accepted his top hat and umbrella from the butler and assisted Carolina with her shawl.
The skies were dreary and heavy in their low-hanging blanket of gray. The rain that had deluged the countryside earlier in the day had ceased, but the dark sky was threatening. Twilight was snuffing out what little light the day was offering, and the entire city was a system of shadows and darkened alleyways.
They made their way to the church in silence. Carolina was uncertain what could possibly be said that wouldn’t bring her more pain and confusion. Her father’s words, given in innocent suggestion, had wounded her deeply, and she desired nothing more than to forget them, though that was quite impossible.
As their carriage pulled up from the side of the church, Carolina could make out the cemetery. Shuddering at the haunting stones, lone sentinels standing vigil over their long-departed owners, Carolina felt her skin prickle. The haunted dreariness, however, suited her mood.
James paused at the foot of the carriage and offered his hand up to her, but Carolina hesitated to take it. Something in the dusky light moved, causing her to strain her eyes toward the shadows. She might have alighted and entered the church without ever seeing the man there, but James was at that moment hailed by a roly-poly man with a balding head and bulbous nose.
“Uncle Samuel,” James said, turning to introduce Carolina as her foot touched the ground. “This is my uncle, Samuel Baldwin. Uncle, may I present Miss Carolina Adams, my fiancée’s sister.”
Carolina curtsied and acknowledged the man, grateful that his attention was on James and not on her.
“James, what good fortune it is to encounter you here. There is someone I’d like you to meet, if you have a moment.”
“Carolina . . . ?”
“I’ll be fine, James.”
“Let me escort you to our seats, at least.”
“I rather like the fresh air after the rain.”
“All right. I’ll only be a moment.”
The words faded from her ears as Carolina took several steps away. Turning, she noticed the man was still there in the cemetery. He was tall, almost willowy, and clad completely in black. The latter made it difficult to distinguish him from the rapidly falling darkness. He stood beside a grave, head bowed, his face in his hands and shoulders heaving as though he was crying. Unmindful of James and his uncle, Carolina’s curiosity drew her toward the churchyard.
Then she realized how unseemly her behavior wa
s, intruding so thoughtlessly upon a man’s grief. She stopped and was about to turn back when the snapping of a twig beneath her foot rang out as loudly as a church bell in that silent heavy air. The man dropped his hands and startled Carolina by lifting his face and staring accusingly toward her. She halted, so shocked at the fierce black eyes that seemed to pierce through her that she nearly forgot how deserving she was of his ire. The lighting of a nearby streetlamp offered eerie illumination in which to make out his features, but in a way it only worsened the severity of the man.
Carolina felt herself tremble. He scowled for a moment; then suddenly a part of his face seemed to soften. When he turned silently away it was almost as if he was absolving her of the violation.
Scurrying back to where James still conversed with his uncle, Carolina couldn’t stop shaking. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders, but it did nothing to ward off the inner cold that the man’s expression had left her feeling.
“Carolina, you should have told me you’d taken a chill. Come along,” James said softly. He took hold of her arm, and for once she didn’t jerk away to be free of his touch. At this moment she longed for the warmth of another human being more than anything else, and long after they were seated in the church, Carolina was still chilled by the memory of the stranger.
“Carolina, I don’t believe I’ve held your attention at all this evening.” James handed her into the carriage and waited while she quietly took her seat. “I hope the supper was to your liking.”
Carolina nodded as James joined her in the carriage. The lamp had been turned up to allow them to see clearly, but James reached up to dim its glare. Carolina said nothing. Her emotions were raw, and her thoughts ran in all directions. The railroad impressed itself upon her as an indelible, and for once, unpleasant image. James was a constant reminder of those things a person might long for and desire but would forever find out of reach. And then the haunting memory of the cemetery mourner kept threading its way through her thoughts.
She looked intently at James for a moment, then lowered her eyes. A part of her wanted to speak her mind, to simply tell him how she felt and let him bear the burden instead of her. At least then he would share the load. Or would he? Perhaps he would be as insensitive to this as he had been to the canceled trip to the work camp. She twisted her hands in her lap, wishing she knew what to do. He said something and she only nodded absently in response.
“I don’t believe you even heard me, Carolina.”
She looked up with a quick shake of her head. “I’m sorry, no.”
James’ expression betrayed concern. “I’m quite worried about you. You’ve scarcely said two words this evening, and you took a considerable chill at the church. I’m afraid you may be ill.”
“That’s all you think, James?” she said harshly. “You have not a clue what is troubling me?”
“Yes, I suppose I do—”
She started to interrupt, but he held up his hand.
“You have every right to be angry over what happened today,” he went on quickly. “I know I was hasty in canceling the trip. If only I could make you understand that I didn’t do so lightly.”
“Well, it was hard to take,” she replied. Perhaps it was just as well he made no mention of her other anxieties.
“Who could know if we’d encounter more damage? I couldn’t bear the thought of—” He stopped and looked away.
Carolina could scarcely fathom what could be the cause of the depth of emotion that had so suddenly come over him. She tried to be more sensitive as she spoke. “I understand your concern, James. But anyone who boards a train knows there is an element of risk. Perhaps that is even part of its allure.”
He shook his head. “Carolina, you don’t know . . .”
“Please, James, I want to understand.”
He lifted his eyes to face her squarely. “Snakeheads cause derailments. Derailments just like the one that caused Phineas’s death.”
“Oh, James—”
“The last thing I want is to drag you into my personal battles.”
“Battles—?”
“Carolina, I’ve ridden on a train only once since the accident.” He blurted out the words in a rush, then turned away in apparent shame. “What a weak specimen you must think me now!”
She didn’t know why what she thought should matter, but it apparently did, and she was quick to allay his fear. “James, you suffered a terrible tragedy. Anyone would have—”
“Even someone whose passion was the railroad? And the irony is that it’s still my passion—at least it has become so again since you helped me face these things last Christmas.”
“I helped you?”
“You didn’t even realize it, really. But if it hadn’t been for you, I would still be trying to convince myself I hated railroad work. Nevertheless, though my love for the work returned, I still could not step on a train without quaking.”
“And yet you agreed to take me to the work camp?”
“I was in a position where I could hardly refuse without looking quite the fool.”
“I would not have thought you a fool.”
“No?”
She shook her head but could not speak, for his eyes searched hers with such hopefulness, such intensity. She’d never had a man look at her like that before. It made her feel weak and afraid and . . . ecstatic.
“Suddenly I feel so much better,” he said breathlessly. “To voice my deepest, darkest secret and to be reassured by someone I trust that I am not as unhinged as I thought.”
“I feel honored you trust me enough to confide in me.”
“Yes, I do. I haven’t even told this to—” He broke off, seemed to reconsider his words, then added rather lamely, “anyone.”
Carolina spoke her next words without thought. “Have you told Virginia?”
“Not even her.”
“Isn’t that the kind of thing you’d want to tell the person to whom you are engaged?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been engaged before. I only know it is something I’d tell a friend, as I consider you to be, Carolina.”
And Carolina knew then that she was the fool for thinking he would ever feel more toward her than friendship. Still, she pressed the issue as if she had lost all sensibility.
“I would hope the man I marry would also be my friend,” she said.
“Oh, sweet naive Carolina!” He lifted his hand and lightly touched her chin with his trembling fingers. Then his hand dropped quickly.
She opened her mouth to protest his words, then found herself saying something entirely different. “James, how do you know Virginia is the one you should marry?” Her throat went dry, and she held her breath. What a thing to ask! How could she have such cheek? Yet she did not retract her impulsive words. Instead she only wondered what he would say. What could he say? Would he declare his undying love? No, of course not. He’d already made clear how he felt.
James was clearly taken aback. “How do I know she’s the one? I suppose because when she asked, I agreed.” He then gasped and put his gloved hand to his mouth. “I pray you will forget I said that.”
“Why did you say that?”
James dropped his hands. He looked at her for a moment and then turned the lamp down once again, as if the lower light would hide some secret shame. “Carolina, as I said before, I look upon you as a trusted friend. I pray that trust is not misplaced.”
“I assure you it isn’t.”
“Very well. Your sister did ask me first, although I in turn asked her to marry me. I didn’t want it said that she had to pursue me in order to become engaged.”
“That was most considerate of you,” she replied evenly. “I suppose her reputation already leads people to conclude that she is somewhat desperate.”
James nodded. “It would be unkind to force her to endure that shame. Besides, she wasn’t quite herself. The party and all, you understand, don’t you?”
Carolina sighed. “I understand a great many
things people give me no credit for. It matters little what I understand.” She knew she sounded bitter, but as James had said so eloquently, they were friends. Just friends.
They rode on without speaking for several moments. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the brick streets and the steady falling of rain upon the roof of the carriage lulled them into a temporary peace.
A part of Carolina wished to take back her words, while another part wanted a more personal answer. Why did Virginia meet his needs, when she did not? Why her sister, when she didn’t share any of his interests? He had revealed things to her tonight he had never told Virginia, yet still it was Virginia he chose to marry. How could he look at her, Carolina, the way he sometimes did and still give his life to Virginia? She could not understand except to assume she was seriously misguided.
“You must be considering some very weighty subjects,” he said after several minutes of silence. “I’ve only seen that look on your face during mathematics tests.”
Carolina chuckled, trying to push away her growing melancholy. “I am considering calculations but not numerical ones. I suppose,” she said sobering again, “I am a bit perplexed.” She made the choice. She would ask him to explain why Virginia’s beauty had won out over her ability to think and share in the dreams and ambitions of the railroad. She simply had to know.
“Perplexed? About what?”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Of course. You’ve been asking me questions for most of our relationship. Why stop now?” he teased.
“No, I’m serious,” she said softly.
James sobered. “Yes, I can see that. Ask your question.”
Carolina bit at her lip, then drew a deep breath. “Why are you marrying Virginia?”
It was James’ turn to appear nervous and shaken. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. Until that moment Carolina hadn’t noticed him perspiring and wondered if her question had made him uncomfortable.