Storm Clouds Rolling In (22 page)

“Ruffin?”

Carrie nodded.

“He hardly came across as being elderly,” Robert said, smiling.

“He’s sixty-seven.”

Robert looked at Carrie in amazement. “I hope I have that much energy when I
’m that old. He obviously felt strongly about the things he said.”

“Our Mr. Ruffin can
only
feel strongly.”

“A rather admirable quality, actually.
One you seem to share with him.”

Carrie laughed.
“I guess you’re right.” She grew serious again. “The things he says scare me. He would push the whole South into secession if he could. I’m sure he intends to die trying...” Her troubled voice trailed off.

Robert leaned forward to look in her eyes.
“Seeing the Union remain is the most important thing to me. I agree with your father that staying together is our greatest strength. I think ways can be found to deal with everything the country is struggling with.” He paused. “But I agree with Ruffin on one thing. If there is war—if the North comes down here to force their beliefs on us—I won’t stand idly by. It will be my land that is being threatened. My home. My way of life. If they come, I will fight.”

Carrie’s heart grew heavy as she imagined Robert going to war.

Robert’s voice was strong and confident as he continued. “I pray it doesn’t come, but if it does the South will be victorious. It will be a short struggle. The North has not a chance against us. We will fight and then we will build our country the way it needs to be built—on each man’s right to decide his own destiny.”

Carrie said nothing but her mind raced with one thought.
Why then has the South taken away a whole race’s right to decide their own destiny? What about the black man?
Her thoughts remained just that— thoughts. She knew she felt them strongly, but they were still too new to understand, or deal with, or even know if she agreed with.

Carrie shook her head and forced herself to smile.
“This is black talk for such a beautiful morning.”

“You’re right.”
Robert, too, shook his head slightly as if to rid himself of his intense thoughts. He turned to look deep into her emerald eyes. “I’d like to see you again, Miss Cromwell.”

Protocol demanded she be coy.
Carrie looked directly into his eyes. “I would like that, Mr. Borden.”

Robert smiled broadly.
“I’ll be coming through here on my way back from Charleston. May I stop by? I’d like to see you on Granite. How about a tour of your plantation when I’m next here?”

“I would love that.
And I would much rather you call me Carrie. If you don’t mind,” she added.

Robert shook his head.
“I didn’t want to make assumptions, Carrie.”

“You’re my friend.”

“Thank you. And please call me Robert.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but turned to gaze at the river.

Carrie’s own thoughts were spinning.
She liked Robert more than any man she had ever met. She knew her mother was hoping she would find a wealthy plantation owner to marry and settle down with. Robert Borden would be the perfect answer. Yet, everything within her was rebelling. Not yet. There was still too much she wanted to do. She didn’t want to get married. Robert himself had encouraged her to follow her dreams. She didn’t know how, but she was going to find out. She was going to do more with her life. Somehow. In the meantime, there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy a friendship with Robert as she explored the new feelings springing up within her.

Slowly, they walked back up the trail, both
loath to end their time together. “When do you leave for Charleston?” Carrie asked.

“Today.
My driver is taking me straight to the train station.” He paused. “I find myself even more eager to attend the Democratic Convention than before. After hearing Ruffin talk last night, I have a feeling it is going to be quite a show.”

“I want to hear all about it when you return.”

“I’m sure you do,” Robert responded with a smile.

“You find it funny?”

“Not at all. I find it refreshing, for I believe you actually mean it.”

Carrie stopped and stared at him.
“Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

“Carrie
, you have no idea how different you are.”

Carrie grinned ruefully.
“You are wrong, kind sir. I know exactly how different I am. My mother tells me constantly that she wishes I could be more like her and the other girls my age who are becoming exactly what they were destined to be.”

Robert shrugged.
“How boring.”

Carrie smiled at him brightly.
“How right you are!”

Robert laughed loudly.
“I like you just the way you are. Please don’t change to fit what everyone wants. I would miss your refreshing honesty.”

Carrie grimaced.
“I shouldn’t worry if I were you. I tried to change. I can’t. I guess the world is stuck with me.” Then she smiled and increased her pace up the trail. “In fact, the whole world is going to be awake soon. I want to be back before anyone knows I’m gone.”

Robert suddenly grinned as they rounded the final curve.
“You’re too late. I think the world is already awake. Seems to be a lot of activity going on around here.”

Carrie looked up and gasped.
Gone were her illusions of slipping back into the house unnoticed. For the first time, she thought of her casual appearance. Her hand flew to her head and she gasped as she felt the riot of hair that had escaped her careless braid. Her face turned a crimson red.

“I can’t go in like this!”

Robert laughed again, louder. Carrie noticed heads swivel toward them. “You’re still the most beautiful woman here. Now go. And hold your head high.”

Carrie gave him one despairing look.
Then she turned and forced herself to walk slowly across the lawn. She bestowed a grave smile on the two carriages full of families leaving early to start the long drive home. She knew she would hear about this from her mother. Forcing herself to maintain a stately walk, she continued up the graveled path to the porch. Just as she reached the first step, she looked up to see Louisa glaring at her from the balcony off her room.

Carrie barely contained her moan of dismay.
Louisa stared down at her with a look that could kill and then lifted her eyes. Carrie followed her gaze. She could have cried when she saw Robert still standing where she had left him. As she turned, he smiled broadly and lifted his hat in farewell. Then he turned back into the woods. She knew he was giving her time to go in. Steeling herself not to look up, Carrie lifted her skirts and slowly climbed the stairs. She smiled as the butler let her in, trying to control his look of surprise.

She held her head high.

ELEVEN

Carrie breathed a deep sigh of relief when the Cromwell carriage rolled away from Blackwell Plantation.
It was just ten o’clock in the morning, but she felt like this day had already lasted forever. Thank heavens for the wonderful memory of spending time with Robert down by the river. She had surely been paying for it ever since.

Louisa had said not a word when Carrie had
returned, flushed and disheveled, to her room. Her pointed silence and withering looks had needed no words to impart their message. Sally and Natalie’s looks had been kinder, but they hadn’t spoken either. They seemed to be too shocked. Carrie had wanted to laugh and explain what an innocent rendezvous it really was, but then she had grown angry, and her anger made her match their silence with her own. Let them think what they wanted. If they were all so eager to jump to such erroneous conclusions, then let them. She said not a word as she changed into a more suitable dress. She didn’t even ask for help with her hair. Instead, she deftly braided and secured it into a bun every bit as good as one Rose could have done.
Well! At least I’ve proven I can do this.

The silent treatment continued as she descended downstairs for breakfast.
Good heavens! Had the whole world been watching when she emerged from the woods with Robert Borden? Did the whole world jump to horrible conclusions when they saw something they didn’t understand? What was so terrible? All they had done was sit by the river and talk. Nothing improper had happened. What big difference did it make anyway if they weren’t properly chaperoned? Carrie grew angry as her indignation grew.

She had seen Robert’s carriage leave before she finished preparing for breakfast.
Part of her was angry she had to face all this scathing disapproval alone. Another part was very glad he had escaped the ridiculous humiliation they had done nothing to deserve. Only her father seemed still in possession of some common sense. He had arrived downstairs and given her the same loving smile as always. He had even walked over to lay a supportive arm around her shoulder. Her mother’s suffering silence said all it needed to.

Wasn’t anyone going to even ask what had happened?
Carrie was learning firsthand how many people care so little for the truth when the results of their imagination feed their thirst for scandal. Her desire to lash out in fury was intermingled with a need to laugh hysterically. The whole situation was so ridiculous. How had this happened?               Just then, she spied Louisa in the far corner, her head bent low in serious conversation with Mrs. Waterton, a neighbor who lived a few miles north. Carrie barely knew her, though she well knew her reputation for being a ruthless gossip. Mrs. Waterton looked up with a grim smile and locked her eyes on Carrie. The older lady observed her coolly for a few moments before she looked away haughtily. So that was it! This was Louisa’s revenge for not being chosen Queen—for being thwarted in her attempt to add Robert to her list of suitors. Carrie had seen enough. She rose slowly from the table, raised her head high, and sailed from the room. Let these people say and think what they wanted. She, Carrie Cromwell, had done nothing to be ashamed of. Out of deference to her mother, she was not going to make a scene. But she most certainly was not going to continue to sit there like a lamb being led to slaughter.

Once upstairs, she dashed into Louisa’s room, ripped off her traveling dress, and put back
on the dress she had worn that morning. Back downstairs, she stopped only long enough on her way to whisper something to her father, and then escaped from the curious stares and whispers. She felt herself coming back under control as she took deep breaths of the fresh, morning air. By the time she got to the stables she could once again see the humor in the situation. Let them talk! In another few days someone else would do something not fitting in with proper plantation protocol and remove the attention from her. Gossip always had to have fresh meat on which to feed. Wagging tongues quickly tired of old news. This would pass.

Carrie was once more enjoying the day when she led Granite, fully tacked, from the barn.
She was proud of the fact that she had declined all help from Charles. He had been mortified, sure he would be punished for letting her do it. “Oh, pooh, Charles,” she had scoffed. “I made Miles teach me how to do it years ago. I’m just not in the mood to play the southern lady today. I need to do this.” He had stepped aside with what looked like a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes and just watched quietly.

Thomas Cromwell was standing on the front porch of the plantation mansion when Carrie trotted smoothly up the driveway.
He tried to suppress a smile but said nothing until she had pulled Granite to a halt. They both completely ignored the stares of the others on the porch.

“Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, daughter.” He made no attempt to hide the laughter in his eyes.

Carrie smiled and leaned forward slightly.
“I’ll explain later.”

Thomas
agreed easily. “That’s good enough for me.”

Carrie
’s heart surged with love for her father. He knew that whatever had happened this morning must be quite innocent. She knew he trusted her. “I’m not riding home in the carriage,” she said.