Distant Dreams (3 page)

“You are such a baby, Georgy,” said Carolina with just a touch of arrogance in her tone. “It wasn’t evil at all. It was just a machine, albeit a very complicated one.” For a moment, as she recalled her wonderful experience, she forgot the impending trouble with her mother.

Virginia wasn’t to be left out of the conversation. “Mrs. Handerberry said that a woman in the family way shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near it.”

Margaret gasped. “See what vulgarity this horrid machine has wrought with our children, Mr. Adams?” She fixed a stern gaze on her husband as if he were one of her offspring.

“The Washington Branch of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad can hardly be blamed for childish outbursts,” Joseph replied with an undaunted chuckle. “The railroad is a vital link for the city,” he added with more earnestness. “I have no doubt it will change the course of this country’s history. That’s why I wanted you all to see it today and why I’m prepared to give the railroad all the support it needs. Think of it! The possibilities! It will only be a matter of time before we can travel all the way to the Mississippi in a few days instead of weeks or months.”

“Ta, ta, Mr. Adams,” chided Margaret. “There you go with your wanderlust dreams. If I would allow it, you would no doubt have us dragging about the country on the back of that ghastly machine. I declare there is no reasoning with you. Go ahead and spend your money investing in the thing, but do not encourage us to believe it important to our way of life. We do have a plantation and responsibilities to our community. I hate to think this railroad would become an additional child in our house.”

Joseph laughed heartily, surprising not only his children but his wife as well. “I’d then have to find another state’s name with which to name it. We’ll have to add more states to the Union before we can have another child, Mrs. Adams!”

“Not so, Papa,” Georgia chimed in, “there are still plenty more states.”

Margaret blushed crimson. “I am appalled at such talk!” But her stern visage betrayed a hint of amusement as she and her husband exchanged a private look.

For several moments all was quiet, then Pennsylvania, whom all affectionately called Penny, came and laid her head on her mother’s lap. “I thought it was exciting,” she murmured sleepily.

Margaret softened noticeably. In front of the rest of the world, she had her reputation and social bearing to consider. But here, with the cherublike visage of her child’s face beckoning her touch, Margaret had no further consideration of public humility and breached etiquette. “Little one, I think the activity of the day has overtaxed you. You are flushed and warm. Hannah”—she turned to the slave—“draw this child a bath.” The black woman trundled off to see to it.

“We will discuss this again another time,” Margaret said with her still-softened expression fixed pointedly on Carolina. “Carolina, would you please help Hannah with Penny?”

“Yes, Mother.” Carolina took her little sister’s hand. “Come on, Penny. If you are good, I’ll tell you a story when you are finished.”

“What kind of story?”

Carolina waited until they had passed into one of the bedrooms of the suite. “I’ll tell you a wonderful story about railroads.” Carolina kissed Penny’s pale forehead, then helped her undress.

With Penny off to her bath, Carolina rejoined her family in the sitting room.

Virginia was whining. “ . . . not to mention we have to ride all the way back to Oakbridge tomorrow.” Carolina could only imagine what her sister was complaining about now.

“Is Penny cared for?” Margaret asked Carolina. She seemed to have forgotten the earlier tensions.

“Hannah has her in the tub.”

“I’m hungry,” Georgia suddenly interrupted.

“Supper is at seven.” Joseph took out his pocket watch. “Your mother and I will be dining at the White House with President Jackson.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t go along, too,” said Virginia. “I am eighteen.”

“That will be enough, Virginia.” Joseph’s tone was such that it instantly hushed his eldest daughter. Even patient Joseph could only take so much of Virginia’s grumbling. “Mr. Jackson did not extend an invitation to include my children, not even my
almost
grown-up daughter. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you would accompany York and Georgia to the dining room. Carolina, your mother has reminded me that we gave the servants the evening off, so would you mind sitting with Penny and Maryland?” Maryland was the youngest of the Adams brood.

“Not at all, Father.” Carolina was pleased that her father recognized that she was better at caring for the little ones than Virginia. Perhaps he also understood that she’d prefer the solitude of the suite to the bustling dining room.

“I’ve arranged for supper to be brought up for you and your little sisters,” said Margaret, rising. “Now it’s time for us who are going out to dress for supper.”

3

Kindred Spirits

The ladies exited the room, but Carolina lingered at the door, the events of the day still stirring her thoughts.

“Father,” she began, “may I ask you a question?”

Joseph’s gaze met his daughter’s inquisitive eyes. “I have never refused you yet, child. What is it?”

“I wanted to ask you something about the locomotive.” She hesitated. Even though only her father and brother were present, she knew she was crossing the boundaries of propriety to speak of things normally reserved only for men.

“What was it you wanted to know?”

She forged ahead. Papa would understand. “I heard a man say that the engine gets its power from the water which is heated into steam.”

“That’s right,” Joseph replied, proud of his daughter’s ability to grasp such things. “What don’t you understand?”

“How does the steam move the wheels? I saw the place where the water is put in and the firebox where the coal is burned, but how does it transfer to the wheels?”

Joseph looked in amazement at his daughter. He cast a glance at York, who also seemed surprised at his sister’s unusual interest.

Carolina mistook her father’s look for tolerance. “Forgive me for not acting like a lady today, but it was all so wondrous that I just wanted to know more.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I’m simply astonished at the way your mind works. God forgive me for saying this, for I do not wish it so, but you should have been born a son.”

Carolina smiled, knowing her father had bestowed a compliment upon her.

Joseph continued, stretching out his hands to illustrate his words. “The boiler is filled with water, which in turn is heated by the fire. The steam then enters a cylinder where there is a piston. This piston is connected to a driving rod. This is the rod connected to the large drive wheels. When the rod pushes forward, the wheels turn and the train moves. The rod them circles to push the piston back. This allows the exhaust to exit through a valve and the whole process begins again.”

Carolina took it all in. “It’s much simpler than I thought.”

“Of course there’s more to running a locomotive than this, but that at least is how the steam is transferred to power the wheels.” He smiled, not indulgently, but as if he shared a great secret with his daughter.

“Thank you, Father.” She kissed his cheek, then left the room.

Alone in her room, while Virginia sought their mother’s opinion on her selection of a dress for dinner, Carolina sat on her bed, took her handbag, and pulled out the blackened kid gloves. She had already decided to keep them to dream on, as a young girl might dream on a piece of wedding cake under her pillow.

Hearing Virginia’s approach, Carolina quickly hid the gloves inside her blue satin slippers, which she then tucked into the bottom of her carpetbag. She couldn’t bear more railing from her sister.

By even the most stringent standards, Joseph Adams was a successful man. From an old family distantly related to the Adamses of presidential fame, he was an established member of the American gentry. As master of the large and prosperous Virginia plantation called Oakbridge, he could have wielded influence enough. But several astute business investments had also placed him in a position closer to the nation’s central political realm. And it had made him wealthy beyond the family inheritance.

Joseph loved the serene beauty of Oakbridge, and his family brought him great joy. He knew that others of his peers envied him. Yet none of them would ever guess at the discontent that dwelt deep inside a secret part of his being. His wife might glibly comment about it, but even she didn’t know just how deeply it affected him. No one knew.

At forty, he had only just begun to let go of it, to resign himself to the hard fact that his dreams would never be realized. But as a child he had done nothing but dream. He had been an impressionable boy of eleven when Lewis and Clark returned from their fantastic journey, and from that moment, Joseph had begun to harbor a longing after similar adventures. Exploring the wild lands of the West filled his thoughts. He began early to prepare his parents for the inevitable fact that he would leave them as soon as he was of age. They, of course, weren’t thrilled at the idea, but he was the younger of two sons, and so, with the elder boy to carry on the family estate, they could afford to indulge Joseph. Thus, he studied everything he could about the western lands and even met Lewis and Clark and was given the opportunity to study their maps.

By the time he was fifteen, Joseph was well prepared for a life of adventure. Then a tragic accident changed the course of his life forever. While fishing in their boat, his father and brother collided with a large riverboat and both drowned. Aside from the horrible grief of sudden death, young Joseph was thrust suddenly into the position of head of the family. His mother, never a strong woman, and his sisters now looked to him for care and leadership. And Joseph’s sense of duty turned out to be stronger, or at least more compelling, than his sense of adventure.

All the dreams were laid aside. Fifteen-year-old Joseph took up his duties as a plantation master. He married a week before his eighteenth birthday and had his first child by the age of nineteen. Realizing the futility of continued longings after adventure, he squelched them quite successfully except for occasional moments of weakness, such as when he named each of his children for states, several of which he might never hope to see himself. The greatest irony was that now he was wealthy enough to finance any journey he wished. He talked often about going to Europe with his family. But he never did. What was the use? Adventures simply were not for a forty-year-old man with a demanding wife and seven children.

But lately some of those old longings had begun to haunt him. The advent of the railroad had tugged at that deep, almost hidden, hunger within. Three years ago Joseph had read an article in the
New
York Courier and Enquirer
by a Dr. Carver that proposed a transcontinental rail line. The idea of a railroad traversing thousands of miles from sea to sea was outlandish at best, but it had sparked that old, as Margaret called it, “wanderlust” in Joseph. Even on a smaller scale, the imagination could soar on what the railroads might do. In 1833, when South Carolina built a one hundred thirty-six mile line—touted as the longest in the world—Joseph had almost cheered.

It was a mere coincidence that this line had been built in Carolina, the state after which his fourth child was named. His daughter had already been born. But Joseph sensed it was not at all by chance that Carolina seemed to possess many of her father’s qualities. It was bound to happen that one of his children would be filled with a thirst for reaching out beyond herself and given a soul for dreaming. What a shame that child had to be a female! Joseph had been compelled to relinquish his dreams to the demands of family responsibility. Would his daughter be forced to do the same because of her gender?

Joseph smiled.

Being a man hadn’t
helped
him much; perhaps being a woman wouldn’t
hurt
his daughter.

“Father? Did I miss something?”

Joseph had almost forgotten his son’s presence. “Forgive me,

York. I’m afraid I got carried away with my thoughts. What were we talking about?”

“Carolina.”

“Yes, of course . . . and she was the cause of my wandering mind.” He paused and glanced at his son. At twenty-one, York was a levelheaded, mature young man, and with his younger son, Maine, having already returned to his seminary studies in England, Joseph found himself grateful for a few lingering moments of father-son companionship. “You know, York, I see no reason why your sister’s obvious intelligence shouldn’t be indulged a bit.”

“Mother would say you already do that, Father.”

“Ah yes, Mother . . .” What would Mrs. Adams think of the idea that was this minute taking root in her husband’s mind? Well, he was the man of the house, wasn’t he? And Carolina was his daughter, too. “I’ve been thinking of hiring a tutor for Carolina.”

York cocked an eyebrow at the unconventional idea. “Many people we know would think you are wasting time and money doing such a thing. What of feminine delicacy and all that?”

“I’ve never thought much of such notions. Didn’t God create all men equal?”

“And women?”

“Come now, York, I’ve taught you better than that. Just as there are strong men and weak men, there are strong women along with the weaker. I believe your sister is one of the strong ones. Nevertheless, if she has a desire to broaden her mind, why should her gender stop her? I doubt it will cause insanity as some might claim.”

“Do you think you could find a tutor? It would have to be a man.”

“It won’t be easy. Pity you and Maine chose schools so far from home. Still, there must be a man around who would overlook gender for the weight of coins in his hand—a man of honor and a gentleman, of course. Is there anyone you can think of?”

“Not readily, Father, but I will put my mind to it. Carolina is bright, and it would be a shame to waste her abilities.”

“It would be different if she didn’t want to improve her mind, but

I know she does. Do you know the other day I found her actually reading over some papers left me by the President’s cabinet?”