by Judith Pella
He smiled when he thought of her. He did love her, and she had given him a son to carry on the family name. God only knew what the boy was up to these days. He certainly wasn’t meeting any criteria Leland had set out for him, nor did he care to inform his father of his whereabouts. From time to time he saw fit to notify his mother of his well-being and his work upon the Baltimore and Ohio, and often his letters were posted from Harper’s Ferry or Baltimore. But beyond his brief visits to check in on Edith, James was seldom in residence. Of course, Leland knew he had only himself to blame. He’d made it clear that James was no longer welcome in their home, yet little by little he had relented his stand for Edith’s sake.
But James didn’t seem to mind being sent from the house, and that was perhaps even more disturbing to Leland. James appeared content to stay away for long periods of time and to offer up little explanation for his absences.
Leland tried not to allow the matter to eat at him, but it was highly difficult to try to explain James’ actions to his circle of business friends. A son was a reflection of the father, and to admit to James’ unorthodox relationship was to admit to his own failure. It was better by far to make up what he could not confirm. To those around him, he was nothing but the proudest of fathers to a son who held a futuristic view of the world and the machines that would drive it forward through the century.
But to James, who knew full well his father’s disappointment, Leland would remain fixedly disapproving and openly hostile. He tolerated his son for Edith’s sake, but beyond that he had little use for James, and from what Leland could gather, the feeling was mutual.
“Let him make his own bed,” Leland murmured to himself. “His failures will catch up with him soon enough, and then he will come crawling back to me for instruction.” But even as he said it, Leland doubted his own words. James, he knew, would probably lie dead in a ditch before admitting that he needed his father’s help in any matter.
41
Proposals and Promises
Carolina knew no peace as she awaited the arrival of Blake St. John. He had sent word to her in the nursery that they should meet at seven o’clock in his study, and thus far, nearly twenty minutes after the hour, Carolina was still awaiting his appearance.
She fretted over what he would tell her. Worse still, she worried that he would demand her agreement to remain with Victoria or, upon her refusal, order her to pack her things and be gone. She had prayed for guidance and sought verse after verse from the Scriptures, but an answer eluded her in such a way that she had no feeling of certainty in either choice.
Carolina sighed and looked around the sparsely furnished room. Blake did his business in this room, yet there was very little of anything personal about the man to declare his ownership. On the walls hung portraits of long dead ancestors, and on the shelf were books related to business and law. Carolina saw nothing that offered even the slightest glimpse into the heart and soul of Blake St. John. But then, hadn’t he told her that his heart and soul were buried in the graves of his wife and son?
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Blake announced without warning. The door slammed shut with such a report that Carolina jumped noticeably in her seat. “Again, I’m sorry,” Blake offered.
He was dressed impeccably in his favored choice of dark navy frock coat and silk-print vest. His sleek, snugly fitted riding pants betrayed his whereabouts for the time he’d kept Carolina waiting.
“That is quite all right. Victoria is busy with Mrs. Graves.”
Blake nodded, then as if seeing her for the first time, sat down behind his desk and studied her without a word. Carolina grew quite nervous under his scrutiny, but she tried to refrain from fidgeting. Instead, she grasped the lightweight muslin of her dress and fought to steady her nerves. Why didn’t he speak? Why didn’t he demand his answer and let her be done with this nightmarish ordeal?
But she had no answer. She hadn’t decided what she would say if he insisted she choose one way or the other. God knew she’d tried to realize what was best, but every time she looked into Victoria’s trusting face, she couldn’t imagine saying good-bye. Unwadding the material of her skirt and smoothing away the wrinkles, she dared to look up. Meeting his dark eyes, she was surprised at the emotion she read in his expression.
“I have something to say to you, and while we have not been able to reach an amicable decision thus far, it is my hope that perhaps this proposal will meet with your agreement.”
“I see,” Carolina said, feeling relieved that he had decided to come up with yet another way to resolve the situation.
“I ask only that you hear me out before making up your mind or deciding against it. Will you give me your word on it? Will you hear me through?”
Carolina narrowed her eyes and tried to imagine what St. John would say next. To demand such a promise from her no doubt signaled some manner of unacceptability in what he would suggest. Hesitantly, she nodded. “All right. I’ll hear you out.”
“Very good.” He leaned forward and folded his hands together. “I have given thought to everything you said regarding my suggestion and proposal. It is true that I had given little regard to your future; however, that is no longer the case. I realize that to take on the responsibility of Victoria will most likely relegate you to a position of less-desirable marriage material, although a gentleman would have but to look at you in order to find merit in taking you as a mate.”
Carolina felt her cheeks grow hot, and she quickly lowered her face to avoid Blake’s notice.
“Furthermore,” he continued without hesitation, “I realize that to take my money and perform the duties that would suggest matrimonial obligation would lessen your reputation in the eyes of the public. Do not believe that I am unfamiliar with the gossip of this town. Those good folk who would call themselves Christian are most unforgiving and judgmental. I have little doubt that they would see you as less than the soiled doves who frequent the harbor walk should you set yourself up under my roof in such a personal way. Therefore, I am prepared to make a most unusual proposal.”
Carolina looked up and found him quite intent on her reaction.
“I am not of the mind to ever marry again,” he went on. “As I told you, I will never love another. However, I note that you, too, are without any particular ties to one gentleman or another. Is my assumption true?”
“Yes,” Carolina admitted, wondering where he was going with this line of conversation. A nagging fear began to build within her, and the suggestion of what she was thinking was too unbelievable to imagine.
“Then given these facts, I am suggesting that we marry for the sake of Victoria.”
He waited, as if expecting some violent reaction, but remarkably Carolina felt a strange peace. Not so much with the idea of marrying a man she could never love and who would certainly never love her, but rather it was a relief that he concerned himself with her welfare above his own.
“It would, of course, be a marriage in name only. To be quite blunt and perhaps completely out of keeping with acceptable conversation, I must honestly say that it would never be my intention to share your bed, nor to father additional children.”
Carolina felt her breath quicken and her heart race. Just the suggestion of such things was far more than she’d ever related in conversation with a man.
“I would give you my name, my fortune, and my daughter. You in turn would give me a stable home for the child and oversee my affairs, thus freeing me to leave the state. You would have my entire fortune at your disposal to do with as you saw fit. My lawyer would handle the actual paper workings of my affairs, however he would be left with instructions to yield to any decision you might make.
You would be Mrs. Blake St. John, and you would be mother to Victoria.”
Carolina was stunned beyond words. There was no need to worry about responding in haste to his suggestion; she could scarcely breathe, much less voice a protest.
“I would then be able to leave before the summer is out an
d make my way first to New York, where I have other matters to settle. It would be my plan to winter in Chicago and hook up with a team going west to Oregon in the spring. I would give you my solemn vow to never again return to Baltimore, nor seek to make any claim upon my rights as your husband.”
“What if the West didn’t agree with you?” Carolina asked, suddenly finding her voice.
“I promise you, I would not return to Baltimore. Perhaps I would venture to Europe or maybe farther yet, but I would not impose myself in your life, of that I assure you.”
“But what of the vows made? What of the pledges to God to take care of each other, to cherish, and to love? You are suggesting that I promise before the God I esteem and worship that I will say one thing and do an entirely different thing?”
Blake eased back in his chair and ran a hand through his ebony hair. “It matters not to whom you make the pledge. I see no reason to set this thing up in church. I do not esteem God, as you put it, and I certainly have little regard for the church. A quiet ceremony here, in the parlor, would be far more to my liking. There is little need to make the rhetorical pledges when we both know that such matters do not concern our arrangements.”
Carolina shook her head. “I do not believe I could marry under those circumstances. I just don’t know how I could promise my life to a man I had no intention of being wife to.”
Blake pounded his hands down on the desk and swore softly. “You stand on ceremony and religious nonsense when the life of a child is at stake?”
“Why condemn me, when you have little regard for that child?”
“At least I am honest about it.”
“How dare you?” Carolina jumped to her feet and leaned menacingly across the desk. She felt a rage inside her that would not be ignored. “You know full well that I love Victoria. You dangle her before my nose like some kind of human carrot and expect me to yield to your idea of justice and resolution.” Her voice was unnaturally calm as she met Blake’s angry eyes. “Like a coward you run from life and love and throw your only living offspring into the path of oncoming destruction with nothing more than the simple explanation that at least you are honest. Well, good for you and your honesty, Blake St. John. A more selfish creature I have never had the misfortune to meet.”
“Calm yourself, Miss Adams. You may rage at me all you like, and it will not change my offer. I will not be moved from my decision to leave.”
“And if I say no to this preposterous proposal?” She was breathing hard and pulled herself back from the desk, as if hoping the distance would dispel her misery.
“Then I will take Victoria and deposit her in the care of the state orphanage.”
Carolina gasped. “You wouldn’t. Even you can’t be that cruel.”
Blake stood up. “You underestimate me if you think not.” He walked to the door of the study and opened it slowly. “I believe I have said all that I care to on the matter. This is my final offer, and I will need your answer by the end of this week.” He turned to go, then glanced back at her with a cold and calculated look. “I promise you one thing, Miss Adams, this is no idle threat. I mean to be about my business within two weeks’ time.”
42
Reconciliation
On the final day given Carolina to make her choice, two letters arrived by post. One was from her father and the other was from Lucy. Taking herself to her room, Carolina opened her father’s letter first.
1842, July 20
Dearest Daughter,
I have seen your mother safely to Boston, and she seemed content that the nurses were so congenial to her condition. One woman, Nurse Ribley, offered your mother a baby doll, and she took to it with great comfort. The doctor suggests no contact with her for at least three months, and while it will be difficult to heed his advice, I am convinced that nothing else can be done to benefit her.
Virginia believes the timing to be a godsend, as she announced that she will deliver a child at the end of September. This, of course, is very stunning news, given the fact that she shows no sign of this condition and yet it is already July. I assume she kept it to herself because of her three previous miscarriages. Hampton seems pleased with the prospect of an heir.He works from sunup to sundown, and often I don’t see him for days as he masterminds one innovation or another. He is too heavy-handed with the slaves, and I’ve often admonished him to ease up, but he is quite capable of turning a profit for us. And given the way Oakbridge has flourished when many around us have failed, I must give the man credit.
Carolina scoffed at this idea. Hampton Cabot was a man who sought to benefit himself and no one else. She would never trust him.
She read on and learned that Georgia was quite happily settled and, for the first time in a long time, seemed to have found the perfect place for herself. There had been a brief missive from Maine. It seemed he had spent time in the ever-growing settlement of Dubuque, on the Mississippi River. He told of the incredible beauty of the land and the impressive expanse of the Mississippi, while also relaying that lead mining was the main attraction to the progressive nature of this particular community.
“Of course,” her father wrote, “the letter was dated in June, only weeks after he’d departed from Oakbridge. He must have made good time indeed in reaching the Mississippi in that short time.”
The letter concluded by asking about her general state of health and the conditions in which she was enduring the summer. If only you knew, Papa, she thought and folded the letter to replace it in the envelope. She suddenly longed for a lengthy chat with him and wondered what he might say regarding the matter of Blake St.
John’s proposal.
Lucy’s letter offered the highlights of their steamy summer in Philadelphia. Lucy, however, was glad to be back in her home city. Her father’s health was failing, and it seemed that the doctors believed him to have some sort of liver disorder. Lucy related that his skin had turned positively yellow, and she feared he might not live through the summer. Since VanBuren left office, York and his family had settled in Philadelphia, and he had been working as a congressional aide to his father-in-law. With the man now ill, York had assumed many of his father-in-law’s duties and found that people respected his ability to serve in government. Lucy fully expected him to run for her father’s office during the next election, and with Henry Alexander’s support, she had little doubt he would be elected to Congress. Carolina smiled at this thought, knowing very well that nothing would please her brother more. The letter continued with a surprising addition that, while Amy and Andy were doing well, Lucy believed it very possible that she was again with child. She promised to confirm this in future letters and signed it with great affection.
Tucking the letters into a desk drawer, Carolina took pen in hand and thought to write her father about her circumstance. She hesitated, however, and stared at the blank piece of paper for some time. Her family was doing well, and this brought her great joy, but it also made her realize how unnecessary her presence was in their lives.
Oakbridge ran smoothly without her, and while she might not approve of Hampton’s manner, she certainly believed her father capable of keeping him under control. Virginia would bear a new heir and certainly had no need of Carolina. In fact, Carolina had little doubt but what Virginia would take special delight in pointing out that Carolina was an old maid with no hope for a future beyond playing auntie or nanny to someone else’s children. That was something Carolina could never abide.
Maine was securely away doing the work of God, a noble cause to be sure and one that Carolina actually envied. At least he was out in the world living life as he saw fit. He knew what he was called to do, and he had not turned his back on that calling.
Mother and Georgia were both safely settled, and even her father sounded far happier than she’d known him to be in months. There was no need for her to hurry home to Oakbridge. No one waited there for her return. No one pleaded with her to come back.
She sighed and replaced the pen in the ink
well and walked to the window. Down below, the bustle of the Baltimore street only served as a reminder that the entire world continued on around her, with very little consideration as to where she fit in or what she might do.
Blake St. John was offering her a vast fortune. Not just money. Hardly that. He was offering her the freedom of a married woman whose husband had given her complete control of her life. He was offering her a child whom she loved as her own. There was no telling what the future might hold for her if she agreed to marry the man.
She could certainly buy more railroad stock. That thought made her smile. She could venture to Europe and see the world that so often had held her spellbound in books. Yes, she could travel with Victoria, teaching her as they went along their way. She could speak French adequately enough that they might even take up residence in Paris for a time. The possibilities began to stagger her mind.
“Marriages were arranged all the time in the Bible,” she murmured. “Is it any different only because I myself make the arrangements?”
She thought of Victoria and knew without any further consideration that she could never allow the child to go to an orphanage. So long as there was breath in her body, she would fight by whatever means it took to save the child from that fate. And, in her heart of hearts, she knew that if her only means to save Victoria was marriage to Blake St. John, she would marry him.
Stunned, she stepped back from the window and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. It was that simple. Blake would have his freedom, and he had already demonstrated his disregard for Victoria. It would matter little to him whether she went to an orphanage or grew up in Carolina’s tender care.