A Hope Beyond

by Judith Pella

  Several days earlier they had set out for Harper’s Ferry to inspect the new bridge. There had been discouraging reports about the structure, and Latrobe had asked James to accompany him so they could see for themselves if the reports were true. But the trip had been a difficult one almost from the beginning, hampered by a snowstorm that seemed to be getting worse rather than better. A simple two-day trip was easily going to take five.

  Ben Latrobe cast a discouraged glance out the train car window, then nodded and sighed. “I suppose it must be. We’ve been slowed down at every point.”

  “Must we go to Harper’s Ferry at this time?” James asked. “I realize there are problems with the bridge, but could it not wait?”

  Latrobe shook his head. “We can’t risk it. What if the bridge collapses?” His wondrous seven-span structure crossed the river at Harper’s Ferry and was their key to westward expansion.

  “Do you believe the situation to be truly that serious?” another of their companions, Charles Stewart, asked.

  “I do. I knew from the very beginning there were problems. The bridge was not built to my specifications. When I viewed the building of it last May, I could see that the masonry was shoddy. I brought it to the attention of the contractors and was assured that in spite of the rough work, the design would meet every important detail listed. Now, however, it looks as though I misplaced my confidence in the builders. There’s a great deal of concern with the pier structures that come out of the river itself. I was recently advised that we might have to rebuild. Then, too, there is a worry about the abutment connections. I only pray I may find a reasonable and economical solution.”

  The conductor appeared at that moment and ushered the three men into an awaiting sleigh. “I hope you gents don’t mind, but I have several female passengers who will need to ride along with you.”

  “Not at all,” Latrobe replied, then noticed the woman who was trying to navigate the icy train steps. “Be a good man, Baldwin, and offer up some assistance.”

  James picked his way back through the snow. His own footing was precariously awkward, and he found himself holding his breath as his foot slipped first one way and then the other. He reached the train car just as the woman moved to the final step. Ice had re-formed on the surface, and when she touched her boot to the platform, she lost her footing altogether.

  With one quick, fluid motion, James caught her in his arms and saved her from plunging into the snowbank. However, the ice beneath his own feet kept him from retaining his balance, and he sat down hard on the snowy path.

  “You, sir, should become an actor,” the woman said in a refined English voice. “Your timing is impeccable.”

  James laughed, meeting eyes that were very nearly violet in color. “Your servant, ma’am,” he said rather formally. “However, were my footing as secure as my timing, we might be seated in the sleigh rather than this wet snowbank.” He waited until the conductor came to their rescue.

  “Let me offer you a hand,” the conductor said, reaching out to lift the woman from James’ arms. He deposited her into the sleigh just as James got to his feet and dusted off his backside.

  By the time he made his way to the carriage, the conductor had returned to help the other two women, both of whom appeared to be traveling companions of the first. Seating the three women on one side and the gentlemen on the other, James found himself matched up opposite the woman he’d attempted to assist.

  “I should introduce myself,” she said with a smile that was all charm and sophistication. “I’m Annabelle Bryce.”

  “The actress?” James asked. He’d heard of her performances in New York and Boston.

  “The very same. I’m honored that you have heard of me.”

  “I doubt seriously there are many who haven’t. You are highly regarded as one of the best actresses in the world.”

  “I don’t know that I would go that far,” Annabelle replied. She passed her gloved hand through the air. “These are my conspirators and constant companions.” The two women at her left smiled as the wind blew down on them. “Miss Davina Richards is my understudy, and Gretta is my maid.”

  “Ladies,” James said, “I’m pleased to meet you. I am James Baldwin.” Then motioning to the gentlemen on his right, he added, “And this is Benjamin Latrobe and Charles Stewart.”

  There were nods of acknowledgment and greeting as the conductor loaded several pieces of luggage on the sleigh.

  “Hope your journey’s a safe one,” he told them, then signaled the driver that they were ready.

  A crack of the whip sent the team into motion, and James felt the stinging bite of the icy wind against his face. At least it had stopped snowing, although the sky remained heavy and threatened to resume the onslaught at any moment.

  “So what brings you ladies to this part of the country?” Ben asked.

  “We are performing, of course,” Annabelle replied. She seemed not to notice the cold and refrained from huddling with the other two women. Davina and Gretta had all but buried themselves beneath heavy carriage blankets, while Annabelle actually appeared to thrive from exposure to the elements.

  “A few of us agreed,” Annabelle continued, “to perform in Harper’s Ferry as a favor to an old friend. And since I have a sister who lives up the hill from the arsenal, I figured to kill two birds with the same stone.”

  Davina popped her head up at this. “We had no idea we would meet with so many obstacles, and were it not too late to back out, we might never have braved the trip.”

  “Yes, well, it might have been more pleasant traveling had the drifts not shut down the railroad.” Benjamin Latrobe’s voice betrayed the disappointment he obviously felt.

  “It is of no matter,” Annabelle declared. “I’ve never been one for convention. When plans change, I simply see them as new challenges and go about my business.”

  James smiled and nodded. He thought of Carolina and her spirit of adventure. That was exactly how she was. Whenever challenged with the impossible, she merely put her best foot forward and plunged headlong into the matter with all the enthusiasm she could muster.

  “I see you approve,” Annabelle said, directing her amused expression at James.

  “I do indeed. Too often we are stifled by the obstacles before us. This railroad is a perfect example. Were it not for hearty men with visionary dreams and unquenchable spirits, riding the rails might not ever have been an option.”

  “Are you gentlemen with the railroad?” Annabelle asked.

  “Yes indeed. We are even now on railroad business,” Benjamin answered before James could reply.

  “How exciting.” She smiled sweetly.

  “It can be,” James agreed. He returned her smile and fell silent. Annabelle Bryce completely captivated his attention. She wasn’t all that beautiful. Her nose was a tad too large for her face, and the years had given her a number of wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. But there was something unique about her that James could not quite define. Something that intrigued him and made him desire to know her better.

  They were forced to stop six different times, not only to rest the horses but to warm the passengers from their frozen states. James kept mostly to himself during these times of respite, but on the final stop before reaching Harper’s Ferry, he found himself the center of Annabelle Bryce’s attention.

  “You aren’t like your companions,” she said, instantly focusing her eyes on his face. “You are an outsider.”

  James knew his face registered surprise. His brows raised silently even as he asked, “And how would you know that, Miss Bryce?”

  “Because like knows like.” She reached her hands out to the woodstove and grimaced. “This is not nearly as warm as the fireplace.”

  “Yes, I know,” James replied. “It’s also not nearly so crowded.” He glanced to where no fewer than ten people stood huddled around the crackling flames in the hearth.

  Annabelle seemed to consider this a moment before asking, “Are you staying long
in Harper’s Ferry?”

  “I’m not sure. There are some railroad problems, and I’ve come with Mr. Latrobe to see what can be done. If this blizzard insists on continuing, I suppose I might well be there until spring.”

  Annabelle laughed. “Pity us all then, for we might well grow tired of each other if that be the case.”

  “I doubt seriously people tire easily of you,” James said without thinking. He watched her face take on an expression of sheer delight.

  “You are quite the charmer, I think,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Have you a wife and children or maybe a string of admiring young ladies?”

  James frowned and tried not to think of his broken engagement to Virginia Adams. Quite easily, he pushed the image of her face aside and found the void filled with the memory of Carolina. “There is no one,” he answered, feeling as though he’d lied.

  “I find that impossible to believe. But I will not pry. I myself have been married twice. My first husband was an actor. He died in a carriage accident only two years after we married. My second husband was a patron of the theater. He didn’t care for his wife continuing to travel around the world. We actresses are not always held in high regard, and so he wished only that I would allow the notoriety of my past to disappear from view and memory. We parted company two years ago, and he instantly sought a divorce.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. My reputation was already questionable.” She straightened her shoulders and jutted out her chin ever so slightly. The action instantly reminded James of Carolina. How stoic she could pretend to be when the need arose.

  James didn’t know quite what to say. “So now you are alone?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Hardly that!” she exclaimed, pushing aside any hint of melancholia. “I don’t think I’ve ever known a time in my life when I was alone.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. I grew up in a house of wealth and plenty. My father was a land baron and knew his business well. He could make money at anything; he had but to touch his hand to the matter, and it turned to gold.”

  “King Midas, eh?” James asked with a chuckle.

  “Exactly.” Her eyes took on a faraway look in her reflection of the past. “We were eight girls and three boys, and our parents were very loving and generous. There was never a moment of solitude to be had. When I fell in love with the theater and my actor-husband, my father and mother were appalled. No member of the Gainsborough family would dare to lower themselves to the level of becoming theater people. So I was disinherited by my old family, and the acting troupe became my new family.”

  “So you married and changed your name as well?” James was already thinking of his own family problems. He had little doubt that his father had already disinherited him for his actions of the past.

  She shook her head, causing strawberry blond curls to bob from side to side. “Annabelle Bryce is my name. I simply omitted the use of my last name.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do, or you’d not take on such a sorrowful tone,” she said softly. “I’m not unhappy with the way things have turned out. My husband and I had two happy years, and I’ve never known more pleasure and happiness than that which I’ve found with the theater. And I’m never alone, just as I told you. I have friends all over the world, and I have but to appear before them, and I’m treated as royalty.”

  James had known similar welcomes. The Latrobes had taken him in for Christmas dinner and treated him as though he were one of the family. But the bur in his side remained that the very people he wanted to be welcomed by were the ones who despaired of him ever sullying their doorsteps again.

  “Will you be staying with your sister?” he asked, suddenly realizing that he wanted to see Annabelle again.

  “Yes, I suppose I will. She lives with her husband and four children, and she, like me, is an outcast in our family. Married beneath herself, don’t you see?” She raised this question with a glint of amusement. “Royalty must never stoop to marry a commoner. Even if you’re only pretend royalty.” She laughed and gave her head a little toss. “That’s really the funniest part of all. My parents are far better actors than I could ever hope to be. For you see, they have the entire world believing them to be something they are not. King and Queen Gainsborough and their little princesses and princes.”

  Their sleigh was now ready for departure, and as the others moved outside, James smiled and offered his arm to Annabelle. “Your highness,” he said in mock respect, “might I escort you to your carriage?”

  Annabelle’s laughter was like the tinkling of glass chimes. She tied the ribbons of her bonnet before linking her arm through James’ and simpered, “But of course, good sir. How very kind.”

  “Perhaps when we have arrived in Harper’s Ferry, you will give me the honor of escorting you to dinner,” James said rather boldly. He liked this woman, and he found her company to be far more appealing than the isolation he’d imposed upon himself.

  “The honor would be mine, sir.”

  17

  Fragile Faith

  The funeral of Pennsylvania Adams was at first a quiet, somber affair. The cold weather had made digging the grave a difficult and nearly impossible task. Four of the larger male slaves had alternated with shovels and picks to penetrate the frozen earth. Carolina remembered watching the slaves work from her window and feeling a deep, abiding sorrow. Now as she stood beside the coffin that held her little sister, Carolina didn’t even try to hold back her tears. They were burying another child. A child who should have grown into adulthood and lived a life of many more years. A child who had brought to the family smiles and tears, pleasures and fears. A child who would be sorely missed by all.

  Carolina stood several feet away from her mother and father, but her eyes were ever on them. Her mother’s face remained emotionless as the minister spoke of the hope of resurrection in Christ. Her appearance at the funeral had been uncertain, and Carolina was still rather surprised to find her in attendance.

  When the slaves had come to dress Penny’s body for the laying out and burial, Margaret had adamantly refused to allow anyone near her little daughter. She remained, as she had for the months prior to Penny’s death, rigidly positioned at her daughter’s side. It had taken Joseph’s insistence that Penny be bathed and dressed to finally convince Margaret to leave the room.

  What had followed afterward had been a confusing scene of hysteria and accusation. Margaret had returned to the nursery and, upon finding Penny gone, proceeded to tear the house apart in search. Finding her in the first-floor drawing room, laid out in a beautiful handmade coffin, had caused Margaret to fall away in a dead faint.

  She seems not to even hear the words, Carolina thought, all the while watching her mother. The wind whipped at them mercilessly, causing the minister to hasten his eulogy.

  “We commend the spirit of Pennsylvania Adams into the hands of Almighty God. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.” The minister spoke these words and tossed a handful of frozen dirt upon the casket.

  “What is he saying?” Margaret suddenly questioned aloud.

  All eyes turned to the woman, and without any embarrassment for this interruption, Margaret tugged at Joseph’s coat. “Where is Penny? Where is Mary?”

  Joseph, eyes filled with compassion and tears, patted her hand gently. “They are no longer with us, my dear. Do you not remember?”

  “What are you saying?” Her voice rose another level. She spied the casket as if for the first time. “You certainly haven’t put our daughters in there, have you?” She rushed forward before Joseph could stop her.

  Margaret tried to lift the lid of the box, but it had already been nailed down. “Open this at once and let my babies out. Are you mad? They cannot hope to breathe for long in there. Mr. Adams, open this at once!”

  The small congregation of friends and neighbors grew uncomfortable with the scene. Lucy Alexander, who had stood supportively between York and Carolina, reach
ed out to pull Carolina closer. It was almost as if she hoped to shield Carolina from the reaction of her mother. Georgia broke into sobs anew and seemed to cry harder with each of Margaret’s words.

  “You must open this box now!” Margaret screamed.

  “My dear,” Joseph answered, putting his arm around her small shoulders. “Our Penny is gone. She cannot come back to us, and the funeral must be allowed to proceed.”

  “Funeral! We cannot have a funeral!” She began to push away from Joseph and at the same time seemed intent on shedding her bonnet and coat. “I cannot believe you would do this,” she said, struggling with the knotted ribbons of her hat. Finally, she ripped the thing from her head and threw it to the ground.

  By this time, York had left Lucy’s side and had joined his father. “Mother, you must calm down. Why don’t I take you upstairs?”

  “I’m not leaving the children!”

  Carolina felt Virginia’s gaze upon her and turned to find an expression of sheer hatred. There’d been no time to confront her sister with whatever injustices she held against Carolina, and it was clear that matters were no better now than they had been at Christmas. Had Virginia thought of a way to blame Carolina for Penny’s death as well as everything else?

  Margaret’s screams filled the air, causing Carolina to quickly forget about Virginia. York and Joseph were trying to lead her from the services, but she would have no part of it. Fighting them both while hurling accusations and reprimands, Margaret was totally unaware of the spectacle she’d created.

  Georgia was now quite hysterical, so Carolina left the comfort of Lucy and went to her sister. Pulling her into her embrace, Carolina sensed that Georgia was close to collapse.

  “Come, we’ll get you inside.”

  She led Georgia around to the back of the house in order to avoid their mother’s hideous display of grief. Georgia’s cheeks were reddened from the cold, and by the time they entered the kitchen, both girls were nearly frozen.

  “I cannot bear it anymore,” Georgia said as Carolina helped her into a chair. “Mother is crazy and I fear her and I fear that I’ll die next. First Mary, then Penny, don’t you see? I’m the next in line. I’m only fourteen, Carolina!”