American Dreams Trilogy

by Michael Phillips

  Beaumont nodded and walked away. He knew the likely effect his words were having inside the brain of Leon Riggs behind him. Nor was he disappointed.

  “Mister Beaumont…” he heard behind him after he had gone about twenty paces.

  He slowed, then turned, casting on Riggs a look of interrogation.

  “You mean what you said…,” said Riggs, “you know—about coming to work again at Oakbriar?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. Why… I thought you said it was going well for you here?”

  “It’s going all right, I guess. But I’d sure be obliged to be back out at your place.”

  “Hmm…” mused Beaumont. “Well… yeah, Riggs, I might take you back on. I’m a man of my word, and I said to come see me, so… tell you what—let me think on it a day. You come out and see me tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do that all right… thanks, Mister Beaumont.”

  Leon Riggs was not the only one to see Denton Beaumont in town that day. Seth Davidson saw the Beaumont buggy on the street not far from the station and knew it could mean only that Veronica or her father were nearby. He waited until he saw Veronica’s father walking toward it after concluding the Riggs gambit.

  That’s when Seth knew that today was the day.

  Denton Beaumont’s brief speech to Veronica the day before had almost succeeded in convincing himself as well as his daughter that, in Washington, the prospect of Seth Davidson as a son-in-law might not actually be so bad after all.

  When Seth called at Oakbriar that same afternoon, therefore, he found Veronica’s father downright pleasant, effervescent with friendliness heretofore unaccorded him.

  “Come in… come in, my boy!” he said, shaking Seth’s hand as he walked in from the sitting room. “Jarvis tells me you want to have a chat with Veronica and me.”

  “That’s right, sir,” said Seth stiffly. He was more nervous than he had been on the night of the candlelit dinner!

  “Jarvis, go upstairs and tell Veronica her young man is here.”

  “Yes, Mister Bowmont.”

  This time Veronica was playing no games. The potential move to Washington had changed her outlook about everything. The moment she saw Seth riding up, she had rushed to the mirror, applied a few last-minute touches, and then flew down the stairs.

  “Seth, Seth… you’ll never guess what’s happened!” she bubbled over as she ran into the room. “We’re going to Washington!”

  Seth stood unmoving, looking at her radiant face that was more excited than he had seen it in a long time, but having not an idea what she was talking about. Then he glanced back at her father.

  “Veronica’s right, my boy!” said Beaumont. “At least she means that I am going to Washington.”

  “I… thought you had already been spending most of your time there, sir,” said Seth slowly.

  “Oh that—no, this is far larger news. We are all going… Lady Daphne and myself, I should say. The rest of you will have to decide for yourselves—you and Veronica, I mean.”

  “I… I still don’t understand,” said Seth, now glancing back at Veronica in confusion.

  “Daddy’s been appointed to the Senate!” exclaimed Veronica excitedly.

  “But… but how—”

  “Senator Everett died four days ago,” said Beaumont. “The governor has appointed me to serve out the remainder of his term.”

  Seth nodded. At last things were starting to come clear.

  “Well, then… congratulations, sir,” he said, shaking Beaumont’s hand a second time. “I wish you the very best.”

  “Thank you, my boy… thank you very much. And now perhaps you see what Veronica and I have been talking about—that this affects your future as well as mine… the two of you. If you should choose to come to Washington with us, I am certain a position on my staff could be arranged. I don’t know what interest you have in politics, but your future in such a case would be a bright one.”

  “Oh, Seth, isn’t it exciting! It’s like a dream come true,” bubbled Veronica. “We will be married, and then the very next month be living in Washington itself! I can hardly believe it!”

  Seth glanced down at the floor. This was going to be more difficult than he anticipated!

  “So, my boy,” Veronica’s father was saying with a laugh, “how about that cigar now that I offered you last May!”

  Seth’s lack of corresponding gusto over the prospects had at last begun to dawn on Veronica. She had come to know this gloomy side of him sufficiently in the past few months to recognize something brewing that gave her an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “What is it Seth?” she said. “You do think going to Washington will be exciting, don’t you?”

  The room fell silent. Veronica’s father was beginning to get the same queasy feeling. A few days ago he would have rejoiced to hear what was on Seth’s mind. Now that his pride, if that were possible, had reached to yet loftier heights, anyone who thought of raining on his parade at this moment of triumph did so at his or her peril.

  “So, Seth,” said Beaumont, “sit down and tell us what you came to talk to us about.”

  “I think I would prefer to stand, sir,” said Seth. “I can think more clearly on my feet.”

  “Suit yourself… but I am going to sit down.”

  “Me too,” said Veronica, her angst mounting. She did not care for Seth’s tone.

  Seth drew in a deep breath and unconsciously began to wander a bit from where he stood. He could not look either of them in the eye.

  “I need to talk to you about the wedding,” he began.

  Veronica swallowed hard.

  “Do you remember that evening I came over for dinner?” he said. “With the candles… when you and I spoke with each other, sir?”

  They both remembered.

  “It seems to me that is when the trouble began,” Seth went on. “You asked me, Mr. Beaumont, about my intentions toward Veronica, whether they were honorable and everything, and of course I said they were. Then you asked me if we understood each other and if I was satisfied, as nearly as I can recall it, which I guess I answered a little too vaguely and said that we generally did and that I was. After that, everyone thought we were engaged. At first I thought it must be a mistake. But then I realized you were acting like we were engaged too, Veronica. And then gradually there was more and more talk about the wedding and then a date was set. And—”

  He stopped and looked down at the floor. Finally he looked up and found Beaumont’s eyes.

  “What I’m getting at, Mr. Beaumont,” said Seth, “is that I completely misunderstood you that night. I had no idea the questions you were asking implied marriage. I see now that my answers to you conveyed something entirely different than I intended. I apologize, sir. I truly mean that. It was entirely my mistake, and I should have come to speak to you about it long before now.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” snapped Beaumont. This news he would have greeted with joy a week ago had begun to anger him.

  “Because I didn’t have the courage to, sir,” replied Seth. “For that I also apologize. I was embarrassed. I knew I had made a mistake. I just didn’t have the guts to admit it. It was wrong of me. Somehow I hoped I would get used to the thought of marriage, and realize that it was indeed what I wanted. So I let things go, thinking that the reservations I felt were common to young men anticipating such a change in their lives. But the fact is, sir—”

  Seth stopped and took a deep steadying breath. He turned to Veronica where she sat staring straight at him. He mistook her pale face and trembling lips for impending tears, which made continuing with what he must say all the more agonizing.

  “Mostly I must apologize to you, Veronica,” he said. “I am so sorry to have let this go on so long, but as I started to say… the fact is… I am not ready for marriage.”

  The words, though by now well enough expected, landed like a bombshell.

  “I wasn’t when I came over for dinner and your father and I ta
lked, and realize that I am not ready now. You are ready. You have, perhaps, matured more quickly than I. But for whatever reason, the fact is, you are ready to be married… but I am not.”

  Again Seth tried to take in more air. The strain of the interview was enormous.

  “And that’s why,” he said, laboring to get the words out, “that I think it best for us to—”

  “Stop!” suddenly cried Veronica. “I refuse to listen to another word. This is all about that horse-riding tramp from the North, I know it!”

  “It has nothing to do with her,” said Seth softly. “It’s just that I realize I made a mistake and feel it best for—”

  “Do you think I would actually marry you after this!” Veronica shrieked in a white fury. She jumped to her feet, trembling uncontrollably. “Get out of here, Seth Davidson! Get out and don’t come back. I never want to see you again!”

  She turned and walked from the room with haughty dignity, her head high. She refused to give Seth so much as a final passing glance at the face he had spurned.

  Still standing in the middle of the room, still expecting perhaps some modicum of understanding from Veronica’s father, he turned toward him. But on Beaumont’s face, too, he saw only anger. Already Veronica’s father had renewed his vow to get even with this idiotic clan of his neighbors one way or another. He still more than half suspected Seth’s father of having a hand in the newspaper articles that had cost him last year’s election. And now his son seemed determined to make a laughingstock of both him and his daughter on the very eve of his Senate appointment.

  “I am sorry, sir—,” began Seth.

  A preemptory wave from Beaumont’s hand silenced him.

  “Save your words, young Davidson,” he spat. “I want no more of your duplicitous apologies. They mean nothing to me. Now I suggest you do as my daughter said, and leave this house immediately. You are no longer welcome here.”

  Stunned at the hostility of their reactions, Seth turned and left the house. He mounted and rode off sad and mortified, and not once looked back.

  Twenty-Nine

  If the news of Veronica’s engagement to Seth had been gradual to spread, the shocking news of its cancellation was instantaneously the chief subject of conversation among the gossips of Dove’s Landing and for miles around. How this came about was a mystery since none of the Davidsons nor the Beaumonts cast so much as a shadow of presence in town for a week, and none told a soul. Juicy news, however, will out. The juicier and higher up the social ladder those involved, the faster the word will spread.

  Veronica pouted for a week. Lady Daphne cried for a week. Denton Beaumont fumed for a week.

  In the end, none were the better off. For their pouting, crying, and fuming had a common source—they all felt sorry for themselves. Not once in said week did a fleeting thought cross any of their three minds concerning right, truth, or anyone else in the matter. Only themselves. What they had wanted, the plans they had made, and what others would think of them to have the self-righteous and priggish Davidsons spurn a match with one of Virginia’s most distinguished and prominent families.

  Therefore at week’s end Veronica and her father remained incensed. Lady Daphne remained self-absorbed and sad—not on any of their parts for loss of Seth, but for the perceived reflection in the minds of others of his slap in the face of their dignity.

  In truth, Veronica had never loved Seth at all. In actual fact, unknown to Veronica, he had done her one of the greatest services one human can do for another by heeding his conscience—he had saved her from a marriage founded in superficialities. She had never loved him, she only wanted to possess him—they were two people not quite so far removed from one another as black from white, but nevertheless strangers in the matter of love between a man and a woman. The desire to possess, though it leads to probably half the marriages of the civilized world, can never provide a foundation for the true self-denying love upon which great marriages are built.

  As for the principle mover in the drama, during the week when the three Beaumonts were sinking yet further into the despond of their self-preoccupation, Seth had taken several strides toward manhood. This same choice between opposites is before us all daily—between striding forward into maturity, or sinking backward into self-preoccupation. Seth had faced his own immaturity, stupidity, and lack of courage—as he saw them, though in truth they were not entirely so serious as he at this moment perceived them. He had faced them like a man, taken responsibility, offered apologies where they were needed, and sought to shift blame to no shoulders but his own. Finally he had taken action on the basis of duty, conscience, obedience, and right—a fourfold foundation that will never misguide the honest soul facing doubt or difficult circumstances. He would ever after use this foundation for evaluating decisions in his life.

  To so act was one of the most difficult things he had ever done—as it usually is to follow duty, conscience, obedience, and right. But he had done it. He had been courageous in the end, however wavering he may have been in the beginning.

  Thus, light slowly began to dawn in his heart. He began to breathe again. A smile returned to his lips. The weight had been lifted.

  The brightening of Seth’s emotional horizon was short-lived.

  As the town and neighborhood reacted to the news, there were those who resented Seth Davidson bitterly for the pain he had caused poor Veronica Beaumont. Why that was so remained as great a mystery as how rapidly the word spread. Any of Veronica’s friends might now go after Seth themselves. And while of course they felt bad for dear Veronica, it was doubtful that any of them would have spread evil reports about Seth. Already two or three were eyeing him, including Brigitte McClellan and Sally O’ Flarity, and thinking what a victory it would be to corral the man who had rejected Veronica Beaumont!

  How much Scully Riggs may have been a mover in the changed attitude toward Seth was also curious in that the moment he heard the news his heart leapt with new hope on his own behalf. Immediately he began planning a visit to Oakbriar in his best clothes. But he had not forgotten that he hated Seth Davidson and had made a vow against him. And now his hatred was increased tenfold for his having hurt Veronica and shamed her publicly. Even though Seth’s breaking of the engagement gave Scully the perceived opportunity to pursue his own suit for Veronica’s heart, he yet vowed that he would punish Seth for what he had done. The two opposites, in a brain like Scully’s, did not work in natural opposition. What he should have thanked Seth for, in fact made him despise him all the more.

  Thus, for whatever combination of reasons, the glances and looks that began to be cast in Seth Davidson’s direction whenever he ventured from the serene surroundings of Greenwood were ones of silent accusation. He had cruelly abused the fair and lovely daughter of their favorite son and soon to be junior senator from Virginia, and talk throughout the community turned steadily more bitter. It soon became clear that this heightened animosity represented but the latent flowering of a widespread repressed resentment toward Richmond and Carolyn as well. No doubt contributing to it the more was a perceived need to shun the Davidsons in order to demonstrate loyalty to their suddenly famous United States senator.

  Christmas came and went.

  The season was festive at Greenwood, for they little suspected the growing ugly reports concerning Seth. The entire Greenwood family, black and white alike, gathered at the big house for a sumptuous feast and singing and laughter and entertainment lasting well into the evening. If the Christmas season was a little less celebratory at Oakbriar, it was certainly busy, for preparations were under way for the move to Washington. By the second week of January of the new year 1860, all the Beaumonts but Wyatt were settled into their new house at the capital.

  If she were honest with herself, Veronica would have had to admit that she hardly thought of Seth once in the whole month prior to the move.

  The encounter was unexpected.

  Congress was back in session and the returnees had begun to make the most o
f the endless round of invitations by attending every social gathering possible.

  The moment Veronica saw the face she knew she recognized it. But from where? Whoever it was and wherever she had seen him before, the man was much improved. In her mind’s eye as she tried to recall their previous meeting was the vision of a somewhat lanky youth. But the man before her was mature, well-formed, impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit with expensive tie clasp and matching cuff links. His black hair, combed straight back, accented a more than commonly handsome face, she had to admit, and his gait with head high and mysterious smile gave him an air of bold confidence.

  The surroundings in the consulate where they stood were indeed glamorous. It was everything any of the three Beaumonts could have hoped for. Background music came from a small string ensemble. The clink of glasses and waiters refilling drinks and the trickle of laughter and animated discussion from two dozen conversations around them in no fewer than four different languages, not to mention the formal attire of every man and woman present… everything about this evening reeked with the heady atmosphere of power and influence.

  Veronica studied the face she had seen a moment before. Suddenly she realized that the young man was returning her gaze.

  He smiled. Veronica returned it in kind. But he was a shrewder judge of people than she. He saw her uncertainty, then slowly approached.

  “Cecil Hirsch,” he said. “We met at your eighteenth birthday party.”

  “Oh, yes…,” said Veronica, still trying to place him.

  “And you are now here as the daughter of Virginia’s newest senator.” He thought it prudent not to mention that she would have been here a year sooner had it not been for his efforts on behalf of Virginia’s senior senator. She had grown, Hirsch thought, or at least matured in the ways of the world. If he had seen “like calling to like” in the girl before, that sense was even more pronounced in the woman he saw before him now. “How do you find the capital so far?” he asked.

  “Wonderful… thrilling… exhilarating,” replied Veronica. “We’ve been here less than a month. We hardly know anyone yet.”