Storm Clouds Rolling In & On To Richmond (Books 1 & 2 in the Bregdan Chronicles) by Ginny Dye - HTML preview

Chapter Two

“Thomas! Where is Carrie? I sent Rose for her, but she came back and told me she hasn’t returned yet. I demanded to know where she was, but Rose pretended ignorance. I’m sure it’s pretended ignorance. I think she’s hiding something from me and just doesn’t want me to know. You really need to do something about it.

Those two are just much too close. It’s not right!”

Carrie stopped in her tracks as her mother’s strident voice floated through the open door. Wrapping her arms around her drenched body to control her shivering, she stood still on the porch and listened. She hated to eavesdrop, but she was curious. Why was her mother so upset? This sounded like something more than the usual impatience with her wayward daughter.

“I doubt Rose is hiding anything from you, dear. It’s very likely she doesn’t know where Carrie is. She’s probably gone to one of her secret places. She’ll be back.”

Carrie smiled at her father’s calm response. He had few defenses against her beautiful mother. Abigail’s soft blond hair and blue eyes still had the power to draw him in, and he loved her fiercely. He had often tried to explain to Carrie that her mother couldn’t help it that her whole life was the plantation house and its efficient management. She simply had no ability to understand her spirited daughter. It was obvious now that his attempt to calm his wife was a futile one.

“Secret places,” she snorted. “Thomas, when are you going to realize our daughter is a woman now? She’s eighteen for heaven’s sake! It’s high time she quit running off to secret places.” The sarcasm dripping from her voice left no doubt as to the contempt she felt.

“There’s a lot of work to be done around here. I’ve worked hard all day to get ready for our company tonight. And where has Carrie been? Down in the slave quarters this

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morning visiting Sarah and now off gallivanting around the plantation somewhere. Robert Borden will be here in less than twenty minutes. Where is your daughter?” she asked in a decidedly exasperated voice.

Carrie watched, glad they had not yet seen her, as her father walked over to where her mother stood looking out the window at the sudden shower that had exploded minutes before. He laid his arm across her shoulder.

“Carrie will be here, Abigail,” he said soothingly. “She’s never late when she knows we have company.” He paused. “There is something else bothering you.” His flat statement invited her to share whatever it was.

Carrie leaned in closer and held her breath. She knew she should be racing upstairs, but she had to know what was bothering her mother so much. Several moments passed before her mother spoke again.

“I had tea today with Lucy Blackwell.” Abigail’s voice was deeply troubled. “She thinks there is going to be a war.” Her voice caught and she whirled to stare up at Thomas. “I told her that was pure nonsense. I’m so tired of people and their crazy talk about the South seceding and there being war. It’s spring. Why can’t we just enjoy it?”

The demanding tone in her voice could not cover the desperation. Her mother had grown up on a plantation further up the James River in Goochland County. She had never known anything but wealth and ease. Even when their own fortunes had been in jeopardy, it was Carrie in whom her father had confided. He told her he didn’t know how Abigail would have responded, and he didn’t want to alarm her. She had never known how close the plantation had been to real trouble.

“You know Lucy Blackwell is nothing but a gossip,”

Thomas said firmly. “She also overreacts to the smallest things. The Union is going to remain, Abigail. Virginia will never secede. Why, our country got its start just a few miles from here down in Jamestown. Richmond served as the capital of our country during the Revolution. We’re Americans. We always will be.”

Carrie could stand it no longer, even though the forced confidence in her father’s voice made her want to listen longer. Her shivering was now uncontrollable, and

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if she were to be ready in time for dinner, she must go in. She stomped her feet to make it seem as if she had just come onto the porch, swung the door open, and dashed inside. She immediately headed for the sweeping staircase that led to her room.

“Carrie Cromwell!” her mother gasped. “What in the world happened to you?”

Carrie tried to look remorseful. “Oh, I’m just a little wet, Mama. Granite and I didn’t quite beat the storm.”

She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face.

“But what fun we had! We almost beat that old storm.

The rain felt so good. It’s quite warm you know.” Barely taking a breath, she whirled and headed for the stairs.

“I don’t have much time, Mama. I have to go upstairs and get ready. Rose will be waiting.” She cast an impish smile at her father and started to dash up the stairs.

“Carrie Elizabeth Cromwell!”

Her mother’s strident voice stopped her flight. When she called her by her full name, it was best to pay attention. Carrie fought to control her impatience and turned to face her mother’s wrath. “Yes, Mother?”

Abigail stood in silence for several moments, almost as if she was savoring this rare opportunity for control, however small it may be. She stared in blatant disapproval at her daughter’s sodden condition. “I had tea with Lucy Blackwell today. Louisa sent her best to you.”

Carrie stared at her mother. She had stopped her to tell her that? She didn’t know what to say, so she simply nodded. The name Louisa Blackwell did not conjure up pleasant thoughts in her. She and Louisa, the same age, had grown up together but had never gotten along well.

Carrie found the other girl petty and childish, with a nasty tendency toward temper tantrums if she didn’t get her way. Her simpering ways were nauseating. The tension had grown between them as they matured.

“She couldn’t join us for tea because she was working too hard, the dear thing.” Carrie simply stared at her mother as she paused for what Carrie knew was theatrical effect. “She is quite looking forward to having us all over for the tournament and for the ball tomorrow.

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There was so much to be done today. She had been up since early in the morning, supervising all the house slaves in the preparations. Her mother told me that she is such a help, especially since dear Lucy hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

Carrie wanted to laugh and scream at the same time.

Time was ticking away and her mother was chattering about the Blackwells. She caught a glimpse of Rose peering around the stairwell but didn’t dare look up at her. When her mother paused, Carrie knew she had finally led up to where she wanted to be all along and was now ready to fling the final arrow.

“Lucy Blackwell told me how sorry she felt for me.”

Her mother’s eyes tightened and began to glimmer with anger. “She told me how sorry she was that my own daughter wasn’t more of a help—how distressed I must feel because you were determined to shirk your duties and responsibilities around the house.” Her smooth voice had taken on a sharp edge.

Thomas attempted to break in. “Abigail—”

Carrie held up her hand to silence him. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you, Mother. But I really must get ready for dinner. I’ll be down soon.” With those cool words, she turned and walked sedately up the rest of the stairs.

Carrie felt her mother’s eyes boring into her back and could imagine the flabbergasted look on her face. As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard her mother’s voice.

“Thomas...” Abigail’s voice trailed off helplessly.

“What should I do about her?”

“Do about her?” Thomas asked casually. “You have quite a lovely daughter. She’s bright and has wonderful manners. I don’t think you need to do anything about her.”

Carrie wanted to hug her father as she turned down the hallway to her room. Her mother’s voice floated after her.

“We’ll discuss our spoiled daughter later. Right now we have company coming and I have a few more things to check on. I only hope Rose can work another miracle.”

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Rose was indeed working another miracle. She had not been able to get Carrie’s hair dry, but the ringlets escaping the bun she had created worked to make Carrie’s flushed face even more becoming. The tangled heap of wet clothing in the middle of the floor could be taken care of later.

“Oh, Rose,” Carrie laughed. “You should have seen Mama’s face when I came in the front door.” She sobered. “She looked so serious before she caught sight of me all wet—almost like she was scared. I hope everything is all right.” She paused as she remembered what her mother had said. Now that she was not shivering on the porch, she was remembering the fear in her mother’s voice. “Father seemed to be okay, so it couldn’t have been anything too serious.”

Rose was obviously too busy to respond. Her hands flashed as she put the finishing touches on Carrie’s hair.

Carrie’s thoughts drifted toward the unpleasant confrontation in the hallway. She knew she was a disappointment to her mother. She had tried for so long to be what her mother wanted. Her honest heart-examination at the river had simply revealed that she could never be someone she wasn’t, no more than her mother could stop wanting her to be what she could not be. Carrie struggled to push down the hurt crowding for space in her heart and focused on the evening ahead.

“Who’s Robert Borden, Rose?”

Rose stepped back and looked at Carrie in disbelief.

“You’re asking me that question? You’re the one supposed to let me know what’s going on.”

“Oh, pooh,” Carrie scoffed. “You know better than me what’s going on most of the time. I know how the grapevine works.” She smiled up at her friend. “Now come on. I know he’s coming for dinner. Who is he?”

Rose just shook her head. “All I know is that I’ve got less than five minutes to get you in that dress and ready

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to appear as a proper young mistress. I aim to do my job.

Stand up here and let me get this beautiful dress on you.”

Carrie wanted to argue, but she knew Rose too well.

Her friend wouldn’t talk if she didn’t feel like it. She stepped around her soggy riding garment on the floor and moved to where Rose was waiting. Obediently she lifted her arms while Rose slipped the yellow satin gown over her head, taking care not to disturb her hair. She stood still while Rose’s flying fingers nimbly latched all the buttons, and then moved over to stand in front of the full-length mirror behind her vanity.

“You look beautiful, Miss Carrie. I think you look plenty good enough for that Robert Borden!”

Carrie laughed and whirled around. “I knew you knew who was coming. Robert Borden? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.”

“Maybe not, but your mama went to great pains to get him here. Seems she and his mama grew up real near each other, up there in Goochland County.”

Carrie listened carefully. “Borden ... Of course,” she murmured. “Anna Borden. I’ve heard Mama talk about her. Not in years, though. When her husband died they seemed to drift apart. I never did know how her husband died. What else do you know?”

“I know you’re going be in a heap of trouble if you don’t get downstairs and be ready to receive your company. Now get going!”

Carrie nodded and began to move toward the door.

“Wish me luck tonight. I’m going to do my best to not do anything to shock Mama. I don’t think her heart can take another one today.” Laughing merrily, Carrie ran down the steps into the welcoming foyer below.

“Quite the place isn’t it, Meriday?” Robert Borden was immediately taken by Cromwell Plantation. It was so different from his brick plantation home thirty miles up

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the river. He was entranced by the gleaming white of the three-story house surrounded by columned porches on all sides.

“Yessuh. It’s quite a place.” Meriday’s voice was noncommittal. Robert didn’t expect more. He was courteous to his slave, but the carriage driver knew he didn’t expect him to carry on a conversation. He just wanted him to do his job. Meriday did it well.

Robert Borden was glad to be here. As far as he knew, Mistress Cromwell had no idea he had finagled his mother into resuming communication with her old friend just so he would receive this invitation. The courteously written note he had received from Abigail Cromwell simply mentioned she would love to welcome the son of an old friend when he was passing through.

He had managed to be passing through quite soon. Less than a week after hearing from Abigail Cromwell, he had received the invitation from Louisa Blackwell inviting him to the tournament and ball at her plantation. He’d had no mind to accept until he realized the proximity to the Cromwell Plantation. It was Thomas Cromwell he wanted to connect with. The growing madness in the country was causing him to seek out those he knew to be of like mind. All the information he had received told him Thomas Cromwell was a sensible, intelligent man who loved the United States.

As they drew closer to the main house, his attention was once more drawn to its beauty. The mansion seemed to be embraced by the towering oaks surrounding it. The fresh green of the early spring leaves made the gleaming white even brighter, and they offered added softness to the already graceful lines of the old house. Huge boxwoods lined the dirt drive leading to the house, their glistening wetness unmarred by dust because the earlier rain had washed them clean and settled the road. Smatterings of pink and white dogwood, along with brilliant purple lilacs, added their color to the beauty. Thomas took a deep breath and prayed he hadn’t come all this way on a long goose chase.

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Carrie arrived, breathless, in the foyer just as the sound of carriage wheels and hoof beats met her ears.

Her mother’s stern look was softened by her father’s equally loving one.

“You look lovely, Carrie.”

Abigail softened. “Your father is right. I can’t believe there has been such a transformation from the wild child I saw just minutes ago.”

Carrie grinned, relieved her mother was willing to put her anger behind her, even if it was just because their company was almost there. “You know Rose works magic.”

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the house.

Together, the three moved out onto the porch to meet their guest. The rain had stopped and the sun was beginning to peek through. Carrie looked around in delight. She couldn’t help wishing she could head out on Granite again. The world was always so incredibly beautiful after a storm. She glanced up, but quickly lowered her head so her mother couldn’t accuse her of being inattentive of their guest. She had just needed to assure herself that the sky was the same brilliant blue it always was after a spring storm.

“Robert Borden! What a pleasure to have you at Cromwell Plantation. Welcome.” Abigail moved forward graciously to greet him. “Please meet my husband, Thomas Cromwell. We’re thrilled you could join us tonight,” she said warmly.

Carrie lowered her eyes in time to catch Robert staring at her. Flushing, she smiled slightly and dropped her eyes just as Robert tore his own gaze away from her.

Bowing low over Abigail’s hand, Robert spoke smoothly. “It’s my pleasure indeed, Mr. and Mrs.

Cromwell. It was so kind of you to offer me your hospitality while I make my way to Charleston.”

Carrie’s father looked at him more carefully. “You’re on your way to Charleston, Robert?”

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Robert nodded. “Yes sir. The Democratic Convention is there in just nine days. When I’m not working my plantation, my interest is in politics. I want to be as close to the action of what is happening in our country as possible.”

Thomas nodded, studying him thoughtfully. “How old are you, son?”

“Twenty-one, Mr. Cromwell.”

Abigail laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “You can have this conversation inside,” she said graciously. “I’m sure Robert would like to get cleaned up, and I imagine he’s famished after traveling all day.

Robert laughed. “You’re right, ma’am. Dinner sounds very inviting. It won’t take me but a moment to freshen up.”

Abigail nodded. “Before I have you shown to your room, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Carrie.”

Robert turned eagerly. “How do you do, Miss Cromwell? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Carrie pulled her thoughts back from galloping Granite through the wet fields. Smiling, she extended her hand as he bowed over it. “Thank you, Mr. Borden.

It’s a pleasure to have you at Cromwell Plantation.” She almost laughed at his bemused expression.

Robert turned to follow Abigail into the house.

Carrie watched them go and then reached for her father’s arm, detaining him on the porch. Both stood silently while Abigail led their visitor into the hallway.

They heard her clear voice giving directions to Sam, the butler, to take Robert upstairs. Shortly after, they heard her footsteps retiring to the kitchen to check on last minute preparations for dinner.

Carrie smiled up at her father. “I’m sorry about earlier. I never meant to be caught in the storm. I lost track of time. I’m truly sorry I upset Mother.”

Thomas smiled down at her fondly. “Your mother can’t help being the way she is, Carrie.”

“And I can’t help being the way I am”, Carrie said quietly, yet firmly.

Thomas looked at her thoughtfully. “You went to your place today.” It wasn’t a question.

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“Yes. It was such a beautiful day. I had to get away.”

Carrie gazed at her father beseechingly. “I know I haven’t tried very hard to be what Mother wants me to be, but I can’t. I’ve thought about trying to change, about being different…” Her level voice took on a strained tone. “But I can’t. I have to be me. I’m sorry it makes her so unhappy.”

Thomas wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Don’t ever be sorry for who you are, Carrie.

Your mother will be fine. It will take time though. Don’t be too hard on her. The situation in the country is scaring her. She is afraid of losing all she has ever known. I’m afraid she takes it as an insult that her only daughter doesn’t share her deep feelings about plantation life.”

Carrie wheeled to look up into his eyes. “You know I love the plantation, Father. I just can’t get excited about having my whole life revolve around running it.”

Thomas nodded again, took her arm, and began to walk toward the front doors. “I know, Carrie. But right now we have company to entertain. I believe I heard the young fellow’s footsteps on the stairway. We need to go in. We can talk later if you would like.” He smiled impishly. “I think, though, that there is a young man who will be very disappointed if he doesn’t get to spend as much time as possible with one Carrie Cromwell.” He put his hand on the doorknob and stopped to gaze down into her eyes. “It will take a special man to win your heart, Carrie. Someone who can love your free spirit and fiery independence.” His sober tone caused Carrie to stare at him, but he continued with a gentle smile. “You will steal and break the hearts of many young men. Take compassion on them,” he said softly. Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and walked in.

Carrie had no time to respond, for, as they entered the house, Robert Borden appeared around the corner of the foyer.

“What a wonderful home, Mr. Cromwell! It’s every bit as beautiful inside as it is outside.” Robert’s voice was sincerely enthusiastic.

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“Thank you, Robert. This house is very special to my family. It dates back to the 1700s. My family were some of the first people to settle Virginia.”

“You must be very proud of them, sir.”

“I am. They have left me a legacy I sometimes struggle to live up to. Most importantly, they helped give me a country I am proud to be a part of.”

Robert nodded eagerly. “I had heard you felt that way, sir. That’s one reason I’m here. Do you think the Union will stand, sir?”

Thomas managed a dry laugh. “You certainly know how to get right to the point, young man.”

Robert merely nodded. “The time for idle chatter seems to be long gone. I know there are still many in Virginia who long to see the Union stand firm, but I’m afraid we’re becoming a minority in the South.”

Thomas nodded but inclined his head toward the dining room. “Why don’t we have this discussion at dinner, Robert? I know you’re hungry.”

Robert looked discomfited. “Will we not bore the women with talk of politics, sir? I don’t wish to appear rude. We can talk after dinner if you wish.”

Thomas smiled. “My wife has learned to accept my passion for politics lately. My daughter seems to thrive on it.” With those words, he led the way into the dining room.

Carrie managed to stifle her laugh as she followed them. She loved the huge dining room with its mahogany table that would comfortably seat fourteen. When needed, there were panels to extend its length for special occasions. An impressive sideboard, two smaller tables, and old mahogany chairs in abundant supply lined the walls—with the exception of the wall that was mainly arched windows looking out over the horse pastures in the distance.

The next hour flew by as course after course of delicious Virginia victuals were placed before them.

Servants standing by with peacock feathers made sure the first of the spring flies didn’t land on the piles of sumptuous food laid before them. Conversation while

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they ate remained general and light, ranging from the weather, to horses, to planting conditions.

Finally, Thomas leaned back in his chair, lit the pipe handed to him by one of the table servants, and nodded toward his young visitor. “You asked me a very important question before dinner. It’s one I hope with all my heart I have the right answer for. You asked me if I think the Union will stand. Robert, the Union must stand. I fear the consequences if the secessionists have their way.”

“I too, sir,” Robert responded quickly, obviously eager to talk politics. He leaned forward, his face tight with anticipation. “Yet their power seems to be growing, especially in the cotton states. I fear what their hotheaded passion will mean for those of us here in Virginia.”

Abigail broke into the conversation, her voice soft and almost pleading. “Thomas, must we really talk of politics again? Mr. Borden surely does not want to fill his evening with this senseless ramble about what the North and South are going to do to each other.” She smiled brightly at Robert. “Can’t we just have a pleasant evening? He is our guest.”

Robert turned his most charming smile on her.

“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Cromwell, but politics is exactly what I would love to spend my evening discussing. Especially with your husband. I have long admired him from a distance. I would love to know his thoughts on the issues besieging our country today.” He reached out a hand to touch her arm. “I hope you will not find me an ungrateful guest for wanting some of his time.”

Abigail relented gracefully. “Certainly not. We are glad to have you as our guest.” Rising from the table, she beckoned to her daughter. “Carrie and I will leave you to your discussion.”

“I believe I’ll stay here, Mother.” Carrie felt Robert’s gaze on her but merely gazed steadily at her mother.

Abigail gave Carrie a despairing look but said nothing more before she left the room. Thomas winked at Carrie and turned back to his guest. “I understand your concern, Robert. Our country, North and South, seems

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to be full of hotheaded people who are allowing their passionate hearts to rule over their heads. Yet, in Virginia especially, there is still a large number who are allowing their heads to rule.”

Robert nodded thoughtfully as he settled back into his chair. “Many of my neighbors in Goochland County think the only way for the South to maintain the life we have always known is to secede. Their arguments are impressive, sir.”

Thomas gave Robert a penetrating stare. “And what do you think?”

Robert met his probing gaze with unflinching eyes. “I think I am very confused, sir. My allegiance has always been to the Union. I’m a Southerner, but my years of schooling in the North have given me many Yankee friends and a love for the country as a whole. Yet, the North seems to want to destroy the only way of life many of us have ever known. I’m not sure how I feel about standing by and letting them do that. I, too, am afraid of what secession might mean, but daily I grow just as afraid of what remaining in the Union will mean. That, I suppose, is my main reason for making the trip all the way to Charleston. What happens at the Democratic Convention will have much to do with what happens in our country in the next year or so. There is already much division among the Democratic Party. I fear things could become more heated in Charleston.”

“The problem with the secessionists is that they don’t understand what secession would really do to the South.”

Robert turned his eyes toward Carrie. “What do you mean, Miss Cromwell?” His voice was courteous but slightly flustered.

Carrie hid a smile. It was obvious he had never had a political discussion with a female before. “Our strength as a country lies in the very unity of our country.

Secessionists fear that such a union will mean the loss of their lifestyle. I think secession will guarantee the loss of that lifestyle. The North needs our agricultural strength. We need their industrial strength. But most importantly, I don’t think the founders of this country—

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my ancestors—gave their blood and such a mighty effort for freedom just to see it tossed away when we can’t agree. There must be a way to keep our country together.” Her eyes flashed as she finished, her napkin twisted in her fist. Her mother’s obvious fear earlier that evening had given a fresh spark to all she had learned in her conversations with her father and from her reading.

Thomas spoke again as Robert continued to gaze at Carrie. “My daughter speaks my heart as well. Secession is not the answer for the South. I’m afraid if the secessionists in this country are allowed to win this battle, all I have lived and struggled for will cease to exist. I do not believe a peaceable secession is possible.

No liquid but blood has ever filled the baptismal fount of nations.”

Robert frowned and looked back at Thomas. “So you believe, sir, that secession will mean war?”

“I’m afraid so.” Thomas nodded sadly. “And war of any kind is always horrible and destructive. It would mean nothing but tragedy for our country.”

Silence reigned at the table for several minutes as the three of them looked forward into the future, saddened by what could occur if the hotheads of the country had their way.

Robert broke the silence. “The abolitionists of the North are becoming more strident. That is one reason I have returned home from college, in spite of having just a few months left before I would have earned my degree.

People from the South are becoming very unpopular in the North these days. Several of my classmates returned with me. I intend to finish my degree somewhere in the South.”

“Ah, yes…” Thomas tapped his pipe, anger flitting across his face and sharpening his voice. “The abolitionists. I wonder if they really know the troubles they are stirring up down here? I wonder if they are ready to deal with the true consequences if they get their way.”

“They demand total emancipation of the slaves, sir.”

“Yes,” Thomas acknowledged tersely. “It would mean the end of our civilization as we know it.”

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“Why, Father?” The question slipped from Carrie’s mouth before she realized she had spoken. She wasn’t even sure where the question had come from. But it was spoken. She waited for her father to answer.

“Slavery is the cornerstone of the South. I don’t believe freedom for the South is possible without slavery.

It is the basis for our entire civilization.” Thomas drew deeply on his pipe and settled back into his chair, warming to his subject.

Carrie was surprised by the immediate reaction that surged through her. She did not for the life of her know why her heart was rebelling at her father’s words. She had heard them plenty of times before and had simply accepted them as truth. Why was she questioning them now? Fastening her eyes on her beloved parent, she listened.

“The abolitionists in the North simply don’t understand the way of life in the South. Oh, I know they ramble on about the desire of the slaves to be free and I know they even help some of them obtain that freedom, but they aren’t looking at the long-range consequences of their thoughtless and reckless actions. Our Negroes are quite simply fulfilling their destiny. And I, as a slave owner, am fulfilling my destiny. My destiny is to take care of the Negroes God has given to me. My Negroes are quite simply a part of my family. It is my responsibility to provide for their protection, happiness, and welfare. It is their job to fulfill the responsibilities they hold.”

“I quite agree with you, sir,” Robert broke in, “but the abolitionists are stirring up people in the North with wild tales of abuse and mistreatment of the slaves.”

Thomas nodded. “Unfortunately, there are a few rare cases where the slaves are not treated as they should be.

Much of that comes from the rising class of slave owners.

Unlike those of us who view our position as masters as a somber responsibility, there are those who view the slave only as a profit center. The new owners work hard at some profession until they have money to obtain land and slaves. Then they hire an overseer and remain in town while the Negroes do their work and are sometimes abused. But that doesn’t make slavery a bad thing. It

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simply means there are people in the system who abuse the power God has given them.” He paused to dump the ashes from his pipe and then carefully repack it. He seemed lost in thought.

Robert and Carrie waited for him to continue. “The truth is, the slaves quite simply couldn’t exist outside the world of slavery. They need us. Left to their own devices, they have neither the mental ability nor the motivation to survive. That’s why it is part of my destiny to care for them. I freely acknowledge that all I have is due to the work and effort they give me, but that is simply the fulfillment of their part of the plan of destiny.”

Unbidden, vivid images crowded into Carrie’s mind.

The intelligent shine of Rose’s eyes. The eager thirst for knowledge as they studied together. Old Sarah bent over the fire in her cabin reading her Bible. Miles carefully crafting new shoes for a tiny foal born with a twisted leg.

Were these people of mental inferiority? Were they incapable of taking care of themselves? Somehow she knew the images crowding her mind were the source of her most recent questions.

Carrie’s father continued, pulling her thoughts back to the table. “Take the load of slaves I purchased yesterday—”

“You’ve purchased more slaves, Father?” Carrie didn’t know why the idea bothered her. It never had before.

“Yes, Carrie. There are several owners in Virginia who are afraid war may be coming, so they are selling their slaves to large plantations farther south in order to recoup some of their investment. I think differently. I hope with all my heart that war will not come, and I will fight with everything I have to keep that from happening.

But if war does come, the South will be victorious. Of that I am certain. It makes sense to buy as many slaves as possible for that time. There was a fine lot being offered today. I purchased ten—six women and four men.”

Carrie merely nodded, her face impassive.

Robert, however, grew enthusiastic as Thomas talked. “I’d never thought about it that way before, sir.

When I return from Charleston I intend to strengthen

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the stock I have. My brother and I have both been in school lately and have not been able to attend to crop planting as much as we would desire. We have kept my mother very comfortable with breeding.”

“Breeding?” Carrie had never heard of such a thing.

She noticed her father open his mouth as if to stop Robert’s explanation and then he shut it again, sitting back in his chair to listen.

“Yes,” Robert responded casually with a touch of pride in his voice. “My brother and I buy mostly female slaves. They usually prove to be quite prolific in their production of children. The market for young slaves is quite strong. We do quite well selling off our stock on a yearly basis.”

Carrie couldn’t stop the feeling of bile rising in her throat. Robert raised black children simply to sell them away from their mothers? She had developed a genuine liking for Robert as she had listened to his conversation with her father. Confusion rose to choke her as she stared at him. How could anyone do such a thing?

Thomas seemed to sense her disgust and spoke quickly, his voice soft but firm. “It is necessary to do what we must. All of us. Destiny is a hard taskmaster, even when quietly and philosophically obeyed.” His voice deepened. “Resisting our destiny would cause destruction and mayhem. Some say we should set the slaves free to flounder in their very freedom. I think not.

Our destiny is linked with theirs. We are bound to them and wisdom teaches us not to cut them loose. It is in this way that we truly show our respect for the Negro.”

Carrie, under his watchful eye, nodded once more but the fire of controversy in her heart was raging. Why was she suddenly so uncomfortable with what she had accepted all her life?

Just then, Robert, seemingly oblivious to her turmoil, turned to her with his most charming smile. “We seem to have eaten up the entire night with politics. I had hoped you would be able to show me the beautiful horses you have here.”

Carrie, eager to leave the current conversation behind, shook off her somber mood and turned to him

Books 1 & 2 of The Bregdan Chronicles 43

with a smile. “We have the best in Virginia,” she stated quietly.

“Is that the truth?” Robert laughed. “With that being the case, would you consent to my riding one of them in the tournament tomorrow? I received an invitation to participate in the Blackwell’s event, but my trip to Charleston made it impossible to bring my horse along.

I hadn’t planned to ride, but suddenly I feel the desire.”

Carrie nodded eagerly, her thoughts now focused on Robert’s request. “You may ride Granite. There is none better.” Carrie saw her father’s surprised look but kept her eyes on Robert. Her decision to let him ride Granite was as unusual as all the other thoughts rampaging through her mind, but she had spoken and couldn’t take it back now.

“And who is Granite?” Robert asked.

“He is my horse. The finest in the state. He will give you a smooth ride and he is fast as lightning.” She spoke with confidence and felt only a twinge of remorse at the vindictive feelings rising in her. A Blackwell horse always won the annual event, but only because Carrie could not ride Granite in the competition. Females were not allowed to compete in the tournament. Even if she couldn’t be the rider, it would do her heart good to see a Cromwell horse win. As long as Robert was a good competitor—which, without any reason, she somehow suspected he was— Granite would do his part.

Robert nodded. “Can I meet him?”

“Certainly. Father?” Carrie placed her balled-up napkin on the table and rose from her chair.

“By all means.” Thomas smiled and stood as well.

“Robert, Carrie isn’t exaggerating when she says he’s the best in the state. I’ve yet to see a finer Thoroughbred than this gelding.” He walked with them to the front door. “I’ll be in the parlor with your mother when you two return. Take your time. It’s a nice evening.”

The air was soft and fragrant when the two left the porch and ventured out onto the lawn. Carrie’s thoughts were occupied with the competition the following day.

She turned to smile up at Robert. “Granite should still be in the stables. I told Miles I was going to bring him a treat before he put him out for the night.” Holding up a

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carrot, she said, “He deserves a reward for getting me home in time for dinner. I was rather a wet mess, but we made it in time.” She laughed merrily.

“A wet mess?” Robert looked bemused.

“Yes.” Briefly, Carrie told him of her rather wild ride back to the plantation. She finished with, “I haven’t had so much fun in a long time.” Then her face clouded. “I’m afraid my mother finds me rather a helpless case.” She looked thoughtful for a moment and then shrugged and looked up at him with an impish grin. “We can’t all be what we’re expected to be though, can we?” With those words she disappeared into the shadowy barn.

Carrie stared into the mirror as Rose brushed her hair with long, sweeping strokes.

Finally Rose broke the long silence. “You okay, Miss Carrie? You’ve been mighty thoughtful since you came upstairs.” The quiet question invited one of the heart-to-heart conversations they often had.

Carrie shook her head, obviously not willing to talk about what she was feeling. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

Rose continued to brush Carrie’s hair until the ebony mass shined in the lantern light. Soft spring air flowed in through the window, billowing the edges of the curtains and causing the lantern light to cast swirling shadows on the floor.

Finally Carrie broke from her reverie. “Thanks, Rose.

I’m very tired. You can go now.”

Rose sensed her friend and mistress was deeply troubled about something, but knew Carrie would talk to her about it when she was ready. Rose nodded, patted her shoulder, and turned to leave.

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Carrie’s voice stopped her. “We’ll finish our reading on Monday. I’m sorry I’m so distracted. Do you mind terribly?”

Rose shook her head. “I’m tired too, Miss Carrie.

Finishing on Monday will be just fine.” She patted Carrie’s shoulder again, walked to the door, eased it open, and closed it quietly behind her. The great house had grown very quiet. Rose moved noiselessly down the gleaming hallway toward her room at the rear of the house. No one knew about the lessons her mistress gave her on a regular basis. Master Cromwell knew only that she could read, and only at the most basic level. The Cromwells would have demanded the lessons cease if they knew Carrie was teaching her all that she herself was learning. Rose had a quenchless thirst for knowledge and soaked up all she could learn, and she had discovered ways to learn even more. Slipping into her room, she quickly lit the stubby candle on her windowsill. She had managed to slip it out of the kitchen that day. It would give her maybe twenty minutes of light. Reaching under her thin horsehair mattress, she pulled out the book she had slipped from Master Cromwell’s library earlier that week. She knew she would be beaten—even by her kindly master—if it was discovered, but she was willing to take the risk.

She had her reasons.

Carrie continued to stare into the gilded mirror gracing her wall. Tonight the reflective depths seemed to pull her into their shimmering waves. As she stared into the glass, it seemed to echo back all of her troubling thoughts and emotions. The creaking night noises of the house seemed to be swallowed by its embrace. Carrie’s mind traveled back as she let it pull her in. Back to the time when the mirror first landed on American shores.

Back to the time when her European ancestors, having left everything they knew, had arrived to start a new life.

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She knew the story. Her great-grandmother had left a life of comfort and luxury in England to travel to the wild American colonies with her husband, who was convinced America was the land of opportunity and riches. She had left everything behind. Everything but the grand mirror. It had arrived in America boxed carefully in a wooden crate to protect it from the rigors of sea travel. It had remained in the box for almost ten years, mocking her ancestor for thinking America would offer it a home grand enough for its beauty. Yet, finally, her great-grandfather had indeed carved a home from the wilderness fine enough to be a home for the ornately sculpted mirror. Almost six feet tall, it commanded admiration from all who saw it. Abigail Cromwell had wanted it moved from Carrie’s room and taken downstairs to grace the majestic hallway. Her husband, usually bending to her demands, had remained adamant that the mirror stay in Carrie’s room.

“The mirror has always been there, and there it will remain.” When Thomas Cromwell spoke in that tone of voice, no one argued with him. The matter was already settled.

The mirror had become Carrie’s confidant. Tonight was no exception. She felt its depths probe her own, asking if she were equal to her ancestors. Asking if she had the same courage, the same strength of heart her great-grandmother Natalie had possessed. Carrie could only stare into its murky shadows that reflected the light of the lantern, praying with all her heart that she did, and questioning the sudden need for the mirror to know.

Her reverie was broken by the sudden clatter of wheels on the cobblestones out in front of the house.

Moving to her window, she watched as the overseer, Mr.

Adams, joined her father on the front porch to meet the wagon pulling up to the house. Huddled in the back of the wagon against the early spring air were the ten slaves her father had purchased the day before in Richmond. The conversation between the men was brief.

Her father nodded and turned back into the house. Mr.

Adams joined the other man on the seat of the wagon

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and indicated with a nod of his head the direction of the slave quarters.

Carrie watched as the wagon rumbled away into the darkness and then crawled into bed to ponder the restless stirrings in her heart, wishing she could be in the quarters to witness what was happening.

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