A Hope Beyond (13 page)
York quickly complied and brought his mother the gift. Placing it in her hands, he kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mother. I believe this package is from Father.”
Margaret eyed the gift with genuine surprise and then tenderly opened it as though unwrapping something fragile. Inside, a necklace of rubies and diamonds glinted up at her.
“Oh, Mother, it’s beautiful!” Virginia exclaimed in characteristic fashion. “I hope you’ll let me wear that one day.”
Margaret looked up to find Joseph smiling down at her. “I do hope you like it,” he said softly and helped her place the jewels around her neck. He fastened the clasp, then stood back to admire them. “You do them justice, Margaret dear.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and seemed too overwhelmed to say more.
“Here’s one for you, Penny,” York said and handed her a brightly wrapped box.
Penny, with Carolina’s help, opened the package to find a music box. Music tinkled out in a metallic melody, which Carolina instantly recognized as a popular lullaby entitled “Good Night.” Carolina could remember singing the song at the close of a school program once when she was younger.
Good night to you all, and sweet be thy sleep;
May angels around you their silent watch keep,
Good night, good night, good night, good night.
She could almost hear the voices singing, and the memory brought tears to her eyes. Would life ever be so sweet again?
They shared gifts all around, each one delighting in the thoughtfulness of the others. Virginia quickly appraised Carolina’s gift to her of a new navy and peach colored bonnet, then discarded it to one side without offering any thanks or comment. Carolina tried not to be offended and focused instead on the new book York had given her. The leather-bound copy of Washington Irving’s
Astoria
instantly captured her attention.
“It’s all about traveling westward to the Pacific Coast and setting up a trading establishment. The descriptions are most invigorating,” York commented. “I think you’ll find yourself quite caught up in it.”
Carolina smiled. “I know I shall. Thank you so very much.”
The room fairly buzzed with excitement and joy. Voices were raised in exclamations of delight and gratitude, and all seemed exactly as it should be. When it was time for refreshments, Naomi, Oakbridge’s longtime cook, entered the room followed by several house slaves. Each carried a tray of succulent Christmas treats, while Naomi herself bore the Christmas pudding.
Carolina’s mouth watered hungrily at the sight of such fare, and she was about to offer her assistance when Margaret jumped to her feet.
“But where are Mary’s gifts?” she cried out in a fretful tone. “Have you all forgotten your sister?”
Joseph reached out to pat her reassuringly. “Margaret, you must remember that our Mary is with the angels in heaven. Her gifts there are far more grand than any we could hope to provide on earth.” His voice was tender and gentle, but Margaret would have no part of it.
Wrenching away from him, she ran to the tree and inspected the empty floor beneath it. Next she went over each and every branch for some gift that might have been overlooked.
Carolina exchanged concerned looks with York, who was even now approaching their mother. “Mother,” he said, reaching out to take hold of her arm. “Come rest by the fire.”
“I will not! You won’t treat your sister with such disregard!” She pushed him away and continued to search for Mary’s presents.
“Margaret!” Joseph exclaimed, having reached the limit of his patience for such matters. “You must not do this to yourself, nor to the children who are still living.”
This caused Margaret to halt and face him. “You do not know what you say, sir. Our Mary will be quite hurt.”
“Our Mary is beyond hurt, my dear.” He touched her shoulder gently and tried to urge her once again to sit. “Come rest. Do not let Mary’s death spoil the night for the others.”
“Mary is not dead! How dare you be so cruel!” Margaret screamed the words and flailed her arms. “You have all caused this!”
Joseph tried to take hold of her, but Margaret pushed him away and, in doing so, also pushed over the Christmas tree.
Carolina saw instantly that the lighted candles of the tree were now about to set off a fire of grand proportions. Grabbing up one of the quilts that covered Penny, she rushed forward just as York did the same. He pulled the quilt from her hands and beat at the tree until all of the candles were extinguished, while Margaret raged around the room, pushing over plant stands and serving tables.
“You have all done this!”
She was clearly beyond reasonable thought, and while Virginia looked on in stunned silence, Georgia began to cry openly. Carolina went quickly to Georgia and pulled the younger girl into her arms. Georgia buried her face against Carolina’s shoulder, while Carolina sent a pleading expression to Virginia.
“Don’t just sit there, Virginia,” she admonished. “Help Father.”
But Virginia made no response. She sat there staring at the melee with an odd look of dismay on her face.
A teapot of steaming water clattered to the floor in a resounding crash, causing Penny to whimper tearfully. Carolina pulled Georgia with her to where Penny lay and forced Georgia to sit beside her.
“Georgia, you must comfort Penny while I try to help Father.”
Georgia said nothing but wrapped her arms around Penny and continued to weep. Carolina knew it was the best she could do. Crossing to York, she offered to see to the tree while he helped with their mother.
“Father cannot hope to calm her by himself. I think we are going to need the doctor as well.” York nodded and got to his feet.
Together, Joseph and York managed to bring Margaret under control, but it wasn’t a pleasant scene, and Carolina would forever remember the hateful look on her mother’s face as they took her away from the party.
Later that night, when Margaret was asleep, aided by a heavy dose of laudanum, and Joseph had returned to the drawing room to survey the damage, Carolina found a moment to speak with him.
“Your quick thinking saved Oakbridge from going up in flames,” he told her wearily. Plopping down in a chair, he buried his face in his hands.
Carolina came to where he sat and knelt beside him. “Papa, do not fret so. I cannot bear to lose you both.”
Joseph lowered his hands and reached out to cup her face. “You haven’t lost me. I may be worse for the wear, but I’m still here and here I will stay. But you . . . I think I did you a grave injustice by bringing you home. Virginia was so certain that such a celebration could benefit your mother, and for a time it looked as though it had. Now I’m grieved beyond words. According to Miriam, Georgia has cried herself to sleep, and Penny wants nothing more to do with her mother.”
“Tell me what I must do to help, and I will gladly give my all,” Carolina said softly. She took hold of her father’s hands and held them tightly.
“I want you to return to Washington. York told me of Lucy’s extended invitation. I want you to go immediately. Virginia will care for your mother, as she has from time to time, and I’ll see to it that Miriam is relieved of her other duties in order that she might care for Penny.”
“Yes, Penny loves her so,” Carolina agreed.
“Georgia is so distraught and”—he paused as if the next words were too painful to say—“she needs a stronger hand than I can give her. I’m going to locate a finishing school for her immediately. The stricter the better.”
“I think she will benefit from that,” Carolina replied. “The rumors surrounding her are less than flattering, and with much more said, her reputation will be in tatters. But honestly, Papa, I don’t need to go back to the city. I’ll stay here and help you with the house.”
“No. I absolutely insist that you return.” He drew her to him, and Carolina laid her head on his knee as she had done as a small child. “You are meant for greater things, Carolina. I’ve always known this, although I can’t say why. I feel it imperative that you spend some time away. I see a restlessness in you that once inhabited my own heart, and I won’t see you stuck here to watch your mother as she is.”
“But I love you both, and I want to be near you.”
“No, you want to be near the people we used to be. I can’t say how much worse your mother may get, and I may well have to heed the doctor’s suggestion and remove her to a place that can better guard her from harm.”
“An asylum?” Carolina questioned, raising up shocked eyes.
“It may come to that.” Joseph’s words were given with such grim resignation that Carolina refused to push him further.
“I’ll do whatever you tell me, Father. Whatever will make things easier for you.”
Joseph smiled for the first time since entering the room. “Then go with your brother. Go back to Washington and live for us both.”
Passing through the White House and into the French decor of the Blue Room, Carolina felt as though she were seeing it all for the first time. At Christmas, she’d been much too preoccupied with the glamor and festivities of the holidays and people. But now, having been summoned for a private dinner, Carolina took the time to study every detail.
Overhead, the opulent gilt-bronze chandelier cast down a warm glow. Carolina was notably impressed with the Pierre Antoine Bel-lange furniture. It was said that the Frenchman had created the gilded furniture for President Monroe because ordinary mahogany was not suitable for even a gentleman’s house. Carolina smiled, remembering the vast quantities of mahogany at Oakbridge. Perhaps it was a different time, she reasoned, and followed her brother through the doors and into a room of red damask.
The Red Room was a lovely parlor and music room, and it was here that President Jackson greeted York and Carolina with warm regard.
“I’m so glad you could come. We have a rare night together. Mr. Van Buren is away with family and won’t be joining us for dinner.
Also, I have dismissed numerous dignitaries and holiday well-wishers in order to have a bit of peace and quiet. Of course, that isn’t to say someone won’t come straggling in and expect my undivided attention. This is a public house, after all.”
Carolina curtsied and extended her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, sir.”
York took a more casual stance. Both the man and the house were his daily companions, and while neither had lost their charm, York appeared clearly comfortable with it all.
“You might have found your way into this room during the Christmas party,” Jackson said, taking Carolina in hand. He tucked her arm against his waist and pointed to a portrait of Dolley Madison. “When Mrs. Madison held her illustrious social gatherings on Wednesday nights, this room was actually called the Yellow Room. It was said that the glittering of ladies’ gowns and gentlemen’s snuff cases literally made the room glow.
“You will note the piano and harp in the corner,” he continued. “Many a famous person has given me entertainment in this room. Would you care to lend your skills to such an endeavor?”
“Mercy, no,” Carolina said with the slightest shake of her head. “I’m not at all skilled in that area. I can play some, but believe me, it would be to both our benefits if I did not.”
Jackson laughed, and Carolina wondered if the hacking cough would follow. When it didn’t, she could only presume that he had recovered his health just as he’d assured her he would.
“We will dine in the back room,” he told her conspiratorially. “In the family dining room. I wanted the evening to be personal and private and have instructed the staff to seat you at my right.”
Carolina blinked several times in amazement. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m honored.”
Jackson smiled. “No doubt, ten minutes into the dinner you’ll be so bored of my old stories, you’ll be pleading with your brother to take you home.”
“That would be quite impossible,” Carolina replied. “I would never grow bored with your stories.”
Jackson paused and gave her a look of genuine affection. “My Rachel often said the same. How I miss her.” His expression was bittersweet as he drew a deep breath and sighed. “She never wanted to come to the White House and, of course, she didn’t. She died shortly before I made the move. Leaving her in Tennessee was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. A part of me died when she perished.”
“You must have loved her a great deal,” Carolina replied, not knowing what else to say.
“Indeed. Indeed.” He remained thoughtfully distant, as though conjuring ghosts from the past. Then, just as easily as he’d grown solemn, he turned jovial again. “York, we have some very fine wine just in from France. Help yourself to it. Miss Adams, would you care for something before dinner?” He motioned to several tables where a variety of refreshments lay awaiting their attention.
“No. Thank you very much.”
“Would you care for something, sir?” York asked, helping himself to a drink.
“Not just yet. I thought I might sit for a bit and enjoy your sister’s company. Miss Adams, I do not remember when I’ve met a more entertaining and intelligent young woman. Your father and brother have often talked of you with great pride. I still laugh about the story of how you would sneak into your father’s office to read my cabinet papers.”
Carolina felt her face grow hot. She took the seat offered her by Jackson and folded her gloved hands daintily against the dark blue velvet of her gown. “Father has always said if you wish to know the truth of a matter, check it out for yourself.”
“What a cracker you are!” Jackson said, slapping his knee. “You will keep some young man on his toes. Have you a beau, Miss Adams?”
“No, sir,” she told him, not wishing to explain her relationship to Hampton Cabot.
“I find that unbelievable.”
“It isn’t for lack of their wanting to court her,” York chimed in. He brought his wine and joined them by taking a seat beside his sister. “I’ve had half a dozen young men inquire as to my sister’s willingness to be approached by suitors. I’ve managed to stave them off for a time, but I’m afraid sooner or later they’ll avoid coming to me altogether and seek Carolina out on their own.”
