Chapter Eight
“Really, Carrie! I don’t know why you didn’t bring your girl. Whoever heard of getting their own self ready for a ball?”
Carrie had to admit that she now doubted the wisdom of her earlier decision to let Rose stay home. Gritting her teeth, she struggled to tame her wild locks into some semblance of the elegant bun Rose could so carelessly create. She was so absorbed in her efforts, she could almost ignore Louisa’s caustic tone.
“Here, Carrie, let me help you with that.”
Sally was trying to act as a buffer between Carrie and Louisa. Their hostess was in high form tonight. She had been crossed, and now her acid tongue was unleashed. Carrie preferred to fight her own battles, but she was grateful for her friend’s help tonight. She had too much on her mind to bother with Louisa. “Thanks, Sally,” she said. “Just when I think I have it under control, these curls seem to develop a mind of their own.” Carrie’s frustration from Saturday rose up to meet her again. “Oh, if only I could cut it all off!”
Sally’s hand flew to her mouth in an effort to control her alarmed gasp. “You don’t mean it!” Her blue eyes widened in shock.
Louisa gave a nasty laugh as she turned and swung from the room. “If you’d seen her earlier today, you’d know she means it well enough.”
Carrie flushed a bright red as she remembered the token she presented to Robert Borden. She didn’t regret it. She just wished that blasted Louisa hadn’t seen her. She would never hear the end of it.
“Carrie?” Natalie’s questioning voice broke into her thoughts.
Carrie had absolutely no intention of talking about her impulsive act. She shrugged and said lightly, “Oh, I’ll keep my hair. My poor mama would drop in her tracks if I were to do such a thing. Sally, I do so appreciate your help. You’re an absolute angel.”
Sally smiled. “Your hair is beautiful. I only wish I had raven locks like you.”
“But, Sally, your blond hair is so beautiful!”
Carrie allowed the mundane chatter to ebb and flow around her. She could take part without even thinking. It gave her the freedom to pursue other thoughts rampaging through her mind. The last rays of sunlight had long ago fled before the advancing tide of night. A soft breeze billowed the curtains and caused the voluminous folds of her ball dress to rustle gently where it hung on the wardrobe door. Lantern light filled the room with a soft glow, and the first flames of a newly laid fire cast their warmth to all parts of the room. The other girls were ready. Their servants had already been there to prepare them for the ball.
“Where is Rose? Is she ill?”
Carrie shook her head as Sally’s question reached out to bring her thoughts back into the room, pulling them from the tournament field. She wanted to hold tight to the picture of Robert winning the tournament on Granite. The sound of his words had rung in her heart all day. “This one’s for you, Carrie!” She could still feel the warmth of his gaze upon her. She could also feel the coldness of Louisa’s stare when her friend pushed her way past Carrie to smile up into Robert’s face. Carrie was sure no one had noticed when she turned and slipped away into the crowd. She pushed the memory away now with effort.
“Where is she then?”
Sally’s question reminded Carrie she hadn’t answered the first. “Sorry.” She laughed and forced herself to focus. “Rose isn’t ill. It’s just that Sunday is her day with her mama down in the quarters. I decided I could take care of myself.” The only response from her two friends was an uncomprehending stare. The looks weren’t unkind, just blank. Carrie tried again. “I am eighteen you know. If I can’t get myself dressed for a ball, I’m pretty sad indeed.”
“But, Carrie…” Sally’s voice trailed off, and she shook her head disbelievingly.
Natalie lightened the atmosphere by laughing. “You know our Miss Carrie. Anything to provide a stir. I’m sure there is no one else among my circle of friends who would care the least little bit if her slave wanted to have supper with her mama in the quarters. Sometimes, Carrie, I’m not sure if you’re kind or just a little slow in the head!”
Carrie laughed along with her. She was thankful for Natalie’s somewhat humorous acceptance of her decision. Louisa had not been so kind.
“All done, Carrie.” Sally stepped away and allowed Carrie to turn her head toward the mirror.
Carrie smiled in delight. “Rose couldn’t have done better. Thank you.” With the help of her friends, it took only moments for her to slip into her gown. Once it was securely fastened, she stepped away and did a graceful curtsy to her reflection in the mirror.
“It’s beautiful.” Sally’s admiration was genuine.
Carrie smiled as she realized with a sudden rush of pleasure that her friend was right. The dress had been a gift from her parents the Christmas before, and this was the first chance she’d had to wear it. Fold after fold of ivory satin cascaded to the floor. Heavy emerald green silk outlined a demurely dipping neckline and lent a touch of elegance to the puffy quarter sleeves. A glistening emerald brooch, one of her father’s many gifts, nestled in the creamy curve of her throat. Her eyes, not to be outdone by the emerald, shone in the soft light.
“Oh, Carrie. You’ll be the perfect Queen of Love and Beauty tonight.”
Carrie whirled around in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Natalie stared at her. “What do I mean? Why, any blind person could see how Robert Borden was looking at you today.”
Carrie shook her head. “Louisa gave him her token—”
The door opened and Louisa swept in. “You’re right, Carrie. I did give him my token, didn’t I? And who else would Robert choose to be queen?”
With Louisa’s triumphant laugh ringing in her ears, Carrie could only be glad Louisa had not been there to hear Natalie’s proclamation. Carrie sincerely hoped she would not be chosen the queen tonight. She still had to endure Louisa’s hospitality until the following morning and knew what it would be like if the girl was thwarted. It was enough to know Robert and Granite had won the race.
Robert cleared his throat and looked around the ballroom. Virginia hospitality had mandated that everyone be cordial and pleasant to him, but he still felt like the odd man out in this group of close friends and neighbors. As he looked around, he almost laughed aloud at his nervousness. Some conquering knight he was. It bothered him to admit that Carrie was the source of his nervousness. In an effort to calm himself, he deliberately took in every detail of the scene around him. It had been a habit of his since he was a boy and was expected to act in the composed manner of a wealthy plantation owner’s son.
The rich oak of the ballroom floor was awash with the light of hundreds of flickering candles. For this night, lanterns had been put aside. Great armfuls of spring flowers were artfully arranged in vases that lined the walls and rested on tables placed next to silk upholstered chairs. Windows had been left open to allow the warm spring breeze to drift in, bringing the heavy drapes to life. Even later, when the night grew chilly, the air would be welcomed by the dancers.
Robert couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to this world if the worst happened. What if Thomas Cromwell were right? Would secession from the Union mean war? The confusion of his own thoughts rose to mock him, but surely life as he had known it would never cease to exist.
Yet, he could almost feel it. Storm clouds were gathering in the distance. Storm clouds that most wanted to turn away from. The very blackness of those clouds made men everywhere—both North and South—turn away in denial. But while they shook their heads, were the clouds growing darker and more menacing?
Robert cleared away the disturbing thoughts and glanced around, hoping no one had noticed how troubled he was. This was a night for fun, and he intended to do his best to keep his spirits high.
Couples had been filtering into the ballroom, announced by the Blackwell house servants. Music began to fill the air as band members coaxed notes from their instruments. A sudden flash of color drew Robert’s attention, and when he turned his gaze toward the entrance, he watched as Carrie moved into the room. He took a quick, deep breath and locked his eyes on her. Never had he seen someone so alive, or so beautiful.
Carrie was mesmerized by the activity surrounding her. Wordlessly, she gazed around, taking it all in. She may not want to spend the rest of her days on a plantation, but she could definitely spend the rest of her life dancing. She loved all of it, from the formal ballroom waltzes to the rousing Virginia reel. Her heart pumped harder as she envisioned it. She looked for her parents, smiling proudly when she spotted them. They were quite the elegant couple tonight. Her father looked dashing, and her mother was the perfect southern belle in her light blue gown. The whole room had transformed into a shimmering sea of satins and silks.
Her father looked up and caught her eye. His expression told her she looked lovely. She smiled back and started toward them.
Just then, Alfred Blackwell, accompanied by Colonel Benton, moved to the center of the ballroom and held up his hand to gain attention. Everyone ceased talking and turned their eyes to him. Suddenly, Carrie noticed Louisa making her way toward Robert. Louisa stopped along with everyone else but glared daggers at her father. What was she doing?
“Welcome to the annual Blackwell Ball!” Alfred Blackwell shouted. He waited for the clapping to die down, and then continued. “As usual, we are blessed to have so many of our friends and neighbors here tonight. It’s a privilege to have the company of each one of you. Before we get started, there is a special ceremony yet to be performed. Our ball does not yet have its Queen of Love and Beauty, or its court of ladies-in-waiting. Our Colonel Benton here is going to take care of that for us.”
“Not me, Blackwell,” Colonel Benton protested. “There is a young man here who rode his heart out to earn that honor tonight.” He smiled over at Robert. “Robert Borden, please join me here, sir.”
Carrie watched with pride as he strode confidently to the center of the room.
“You have broken a long-held Blackwell tradition today,” Colonel Benton proclaimed solemnly, his eyes twinkling. “I’d say it was about time Nathan Blackwell was dethroned!”
Nathan joined in the good-natured laughter filling the room. “You got me this time, Borden. It won’t be so easy next time!”
Robert smiled at his new friend. Then he turned back to Colonel Benton just as the older man handed him a beautiful crown formed of wisteria and dogwood intricately woven together. The room grew completely silent as he accepted the crown. Raising his arms high, he held the crown aloft for the whole room to see.
Carrie, watching from her post next to the door, felt a thrill course through her body. Robert had ridden so magnificently today. He deserved to be the conquering knight. Her gaze swung to Louisa. Of course she would be crowned the queen. She had given Robert the first token and she expected to reign with him tonight.
Robert allowed his gaze to scan the entire room as he let the suspense build. “I am honored to be the conquering knight of the Blackwell Tournament. The competition was stiff. Admiration runs deep for my worthy opponents.” He paused. “The honor of choosing the Queen of Love and Beauty is not one to be taken lightly. It is, at best, a very difficult decision. So many beautiful young ladies, all worthy of the honor. Most of you do not know that I did not attend with the intention of riding in the tournament. Because of extended travel plans, I was not able to bring my horse. Carrie Cromwell was kind enough to remedy that situation for me. It was her horse, Granite, that carried me to victory today.”
Carrie was watching Louisa, whose face stiffened and took on an expression of disbelief. Confused, Carrie turned her attention to Robert.
Robert continued. “In honor of Miss Cromwell’s supreme unselfishness, and in honor of a magnificent Thoroughbred with a great heart, I crown Miss Carrie Cromwell the Queen of Love and Beauty.” Robert moved toward the entranceway as he spoke these last words.
Carrie heard his words and saw him moving in her direction, but she couldn’t believe her own eyes and ears. Surely he knew what an insult this would be to Louisa! She felt her cheeks flushing as Robert came to a stop in front of her. She settled her eyes on the proffered crown and fought to think clearly. When she glanced up, Robert’s dark brown eyes probed her own. The message was unmistakable. Trust me. This is what I want. Carrie’s heart jumped in response, and she allowed her own indomitable spirit to rise to meet Robert’s.
Carrie smiled and curtsied deeply to her knight. Robert carefully placed the crown on her glimmering hair and reached for her hand. All around, she could hear the murmurs of approval. The sound of her friends’ and neighbors’ voices added to her joy. No one seemed angry that Robert had not chosen the beautiful daughter of their host. Carrie would most definitely have to deal with Louisa later, but tonight…tonight was hers. She would make the most of it. Tucking her hand in Robert’s arm, she allowed him to lead her to the middle of the dance floor. Only then did the music start. Turning to face him, she smiled joyously. “Thank you.”
Robert’s response was immediate. “Thank you, Miss Cromwell. You honor me by being my queen tonight. There has never been one lovelier.”
The intensity of his eyes and voice caused Carrie to blush and look down. The next thing she knew, Robert had swung her into an elegant waltz. She quit thinking then. She would enjoy the night, the music and the dancing. Music swirled around them, joining with the glowing lights and gentle breezes. It was a perfect night.
After leading his beautiful wife through several dances and a rousing Virginia reel, Thomas Cromwell was ready for a drink.
“I hear that Borden lad has an interest in politics.”
Thomas stifled a groan. Any conversation with Edmund Ruffin lately meant conflict. He supposed there was no avoiding it. “That’s right. A fine lad he is.”
“I hope he has more gumption than the rest of our so-called Virginia politicians. Our whole state seems to be full of gentlemen eager to bow in acquiescence to the almighty North.”
Thomas was aware Ruffin’s words linked him to this group. He considered walking off to find Abigail, but caught sight of her in the midst of a gaggle of women and tossed that option aside. Just then, Alfred Blackwell and Colonel Benton strode up to join them. Stifling a sigh, he remained where he was. To walk away now would appear rude to his host.
Ruffin continued. “It grieves me deeply that fellow Virginians would be willing to sacrifice our Southern civilization. It confounds me that once-levelheaded men cannot see the danger of allowing things to continue as they are.” He was obviously aware he was now speaking to a larger audience. “It will take brave men to turn the tide of current events. The North would like to come down and destroy all that we hold dear, and the abolitionists continue to fire up sentiment against our way of life. Secession is the only answer. Only when we are free as a nation to determine our own destiny, apart from heavy-handed meddling from the North, will this struggle be over.”
Thomas had heard it all before. Long before the cry of secession had become an accepted voice in the South, he had been hearing this type of rhetoric from his fire-eating neighbor. The voices were louder now, and there were more of them. Daily his heart grew heavier as he imagined the outcome if his hot-tempered neighbor and those of his kind were allowed to lead the way.
“I used to think you were a kind of mad man, Ruffin. Recent events have made me do a lot of thinking.” Colonel Benton stuffed a plug of chewing tobacco in his jaw and began to work it thoughtfully. His usually jovial voice was heavy. “I used to think all that abolitionist talk was just a bunch of nonsense from people who had nothing better to do with their time than harass a way of life they didn’t understand. John Brown made me think differently. Those abolitionists are crazy people who will kill and destroy to get their way. I’ve always been a Union man myself. I’ve always been proud to be an American. Now, I’m not so sure. If being an American means the North is going to control how I live and try to turn the South into another Africa by setting all the niggers free, well then—”
Thomas broke into the colonel’s speech. “Now, Colonel, I think you may be overstating your case.” Ruffin snorted as if to interrupt him, but Thomas forged ahead. “There are those in the South who would have us believe the only way to save our way of life is to secede from the Union. I believe the very opposite. I believe the only way to save our way of life is to stay in the Union. Our very strength lies in our unity. Secession will mean war. War has never brought anything but destruction and death. We need what the North has to offer, just as they need what we have to offer.” His voice grew firmer as he cast aside any hope of averting conflict. “I’m afraid fire-eaters like Ruffin here may be leading the South into a time of great tragedy and heartache.” Thomas believed his words with all his heart, but he well knew the lessening impact they were having. Strident voices everywhere were fighting to be heard, and just as it so often happened in the past, the voices that shouted the loudest were the ones heard best. The voices that fed on fear and prejudices drowned out all else.
Ruffin again snorted his disdain. “We need nothing from the North. They are nothing but tyrants who want to control us. The only answer is secession. The idea that it would mean war is ludicrous. The North would never come down here to fight us. It would be pure folly.” Rubbing his hands together, he warmed to his subject. “Our South is by far the superior civilization. No one can challenge the nobleness of our cause or question our outstanding character. It is true that the soil of the South has produced a better man. Why, look at it! Slavery. The plantations. Our men have been bred and trained for command and leadership. Though it will never happen, I would welcome the contest between a lean, hard Southern man fighting for liberty, family and property, and a soft, flabby Yankee mechanic waging an unconstitutional, utopian war of aggression and tyranny!” Waving his hands wildly, Ruffin had now attracted the attention of those around him.
Thomas listened to his neighbor with a sinking heart. He disagreed entirely, but he knew many of his friends and those listening agreed with Ruffin. Thomas wished he could get them to see what folly this talk of secession was—get them to think clearly with their heads instead of following the passion of their hearts.
Ruffin, aware he was drawing a crowd, continued with his tirade. “In just eight more days the die may be cast.”
Just then, Carrie and Robert dropped out of the dancing to get refreshments. Robert turned to Ruffin. “Eight days, sir? Are you referring to the Democratic Convention in Charleston?”
“I am indeed.”
Robert nodded. “I leave for there tomorrow.”
Ruffin turned to eye Robert with renewed interest. “And what do you hope to see accomplished there, young man?”
“In truth, sir, I don’t know. Northern Democrats seem assured of Douglas’ nomination. I am not so sure. There are many Southerners unhappy with the compromising senator.”
“And well they should be,” Ruffin said caustically.
Robert continued. “I’m afraid, though, that a split at the convention will mean disaster for the Democratic Party. It could mean a victory for the Republican Party, and I’m afraid of what that would mean for the South.”
Ruffin pounced. “That would be the very best thing for our beloved South.”
“Excuse me, sir?” Robert was obviously confused.
Thomas had correctly guessed that Robert had little exposure to rabid fire-eaters. His political experience had been among the more moderate members of the party. Most of the fire-eaters resided in the cotton states farther south. Virginians, for the most part, did not share those intense feelings.
Ruffin continued to enlighten him. “Yes, young man, it would be the very best thing that could happen. Maybe then the South would cease all this kowtowing to the North. If the Democratic Party is divided in such a way as to ensure a Black Republican victory next year in the presidential election, maybe all Southern men will have the courage to unite under the banner of the South, disentangled from Northern alliances. Perhaps then the South will act for its defense and only salvation.” Ruffin’s face grew redder and his arms waved wildly as he became more passionate. “If not, submission to Northern oppression and aggression will be the set course of the South. Our fate will be sealed.” His booming voice ground to a halt as he leaned in close to Robert.
Thomas watched Robert’s face fill with doubt. He knew Ruffin had no qualms against using Robert to make a point to his audience as a whole. He would not feel one misgiving that he was bringing such discord to a social function meant for laughter and fun.
Ruffin wasn’t done. “Robert Borden… You own a plantation up in Goochland?”
Robert nodded. “Yes, sir. With my brother and mother. My father is deceased.”
“Own slaves?”
“Yes, sir. Close to seventy-five.”
“How do you feel about someone coming down and setting all your slaves free?” He didn’t give him time to answer. “How do you feel about all your former slaves living around here, having the same say as you about what goes on?” He pushed on. “How do you feel about the South turning into a little Africa if there were no white men to control things?” He seemed not to care if Robert answered or not. He was making a point. “How would you like to lose your means of making a living for your family? How would you like it if life as you know it were about to end?”
Alfred Blackwell stepped in to end the show before Robert could answer. “That’s enough, friends. It’s time for our real refreshment.” His words were enough to break the spell Ruffin had cast over the crowd.
Carrie stood quietly at Robert’s side. She knew what one of Ruffin’s tirades could do. Even the most clearheaded person could become confused by his elegant rhetoric. She knew how difficult it sometimes was not to allow the enflamed opinions of others to form one’s own.
Robert looked down at her. “Feels rather strongly, doesn’t he?”
Carrie laughed. “Our Mr. Ruffin feels quite strongly about a lot of things. I applaud his passion, but I find I question many of his conclusions.”
Robert nodded, looking at her with admiration. “My queen has a head full of brains to match her beauty.”
“Please don’t tell my mother. I’m afraid she despairs of me already. I think she would prefer that I quit thinking and simply enjoy being a plantation mistress.”
“And that’s not what you want?”
“Certainly not!” Carrie’s response was immediate. She surprised herself with her openness, but she didn’t regret it. She was being nothing but honest.
“And what is it you want?”
Carrie opened her mouth to respond before thinking better of it. She barely knew this man. What would possess her to think of sharing the secret only Granite knew?
Robert took her arm and steered her toward the table. “Excuse my intrusiveness.”
Carrie hastened to apologize. “Oh! It’s not that you’re being intrusive. It’s just that—”
“It’s none of my business,” he finished for her. “You’re quite right, you know.” Robert grinned down at her horrified expression. “It’s quite all right, Miss Cromwell. But be sure of one thing.” He paused for emphasis. “Someday, I hope to make it my business.” Stepping aside, he said, “Now, what would you like to eat, my beautiful queen?”
Carrie could hardly focus her eyes on the sumptuous table. Robert’s words swam through her mind and caused her to feel short of breath. She struggled to maintain a calm manner and made a show of inspecting the table. In truth, she was hungry. Lunch had been hours earlier and the light meal before the ball had worn off ages ago.
The traditional Blackwell Ball feast was spread out on a table more than twenty feet long. It groaned under its load of hand-dipped chocolate fruits, cheesecakes, cookies, fresh fruits and cheeses. The other end was piled high with savory meats, breads and biscuits. Huge bowls of punch, cider and harder spirits for the men lay in wait.
Carrie smiled at her escort brightly. “I’ll eat because I’m hungry, but you have to promise me we can dance longer.”
Robert laid his hand over his heart and bowed deeply. “Nothing would keep me from that honor, m’ lady.”
Carrie was exhausted. She smiled gratefully as Natalie and Sally lifted her ball gown over her head and then released her hair and allowed it to tumble down her back. She reached for her brush, closed her eyes, and made big sweeping draws through the ebony mass. Her whole body cried with tiredness. It had been such a long day. That morning and the carriage ride seemed days ago. Even the tournament seemed as if it had happened in another age. It was the dancing that filled her mind—the swirling, gliding and swinging that never lost its delight for her. She could still see Robert, so tall and handsome, gazing down at her. Laughing. Talking. She just wanted to go to bed and dream about it. Never had she felt this way before. She needed time to analyze it. To understand it. She looked with longing at her feathery mattress on the floor. A few more strokes...
“Carrie?”
“Yes, Sally?”
“What the men were talking about tonight? I couldn’t help but overhear Mr. Ruffin. Is he right? Is the North really going to come down here and destroy our way of life?”
Carrie hesitated. She wished she knew the answer to that question. “I don’t know, Sally. But I do believe the South needs to do all it can to stay within the Union.”
“Oh, poo! I hate all this talk about secession and slavery, states’ rights against the Union… I’m sick of it.”
Carrie looked at Louisa in surprise. She hadn’t really thought the girl listened enough to what was said around her to even know what was going on.
The blonde swung around on the bench of her vanity and waved her brush in the air. “I tell you, I’m sick of all this talk, and I won’t hear any more of it. There are more important things to talk about.”
Louisa had always wanted to push away whatever wasn’t pleasant. If she ignored it, she figured it would go away. From what Carrie could tell, that seemed to be the mentality of most plantation women. Focus on what was important and let the rest of the world spin on by. For tonight, that was fine with Carrie. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to sleep.
Sally had other ideas. She was clearly troubled. “But what if he is right? What if the time comes when we’re not safe with our people? It is happening you know. Just the other day I heard of some slaves’ uprising. They killed their master and his wife. They even killed the little boy—only a few months old.” Sally paused, the fear standing out against her creamy features. “I’m afraid. What if soon none of us are safe?”
Carrie tried to comfort her. “Sally, that’s pure nonsense. You’re good to your slaves. Why would they want to hurt you? Those slaves who killed their master were probably badly treated. That would never happen to you.” She could only hope she was right. She knew her own mother was afraid of the same thing. Carrie had overheard her talking about it with a friend who had come to visit.
Louisa shook her head again. “I mean it! I don’t want any more talk of that kind in my room. I’m sick to death of it.” Her blue eyes flashed and she glared around the room until Sally nodded meekly. “If we’re going to talk about something, we’re going to talk about the wonderful ball tonight.”
Louisa seemed to have gotten over her initial anger at being passed over as queen. Carrie gave a silent sigh of relief, but she looked up to see Louisa regarding her with a condescending smile.
“Robert really is quite noble, Carrie.” Louisa laughed. “Anyone could tell he wanted to choose me. What a perfect gentleman that he would select you just because you let him ride your horse. It really is a pity, though, that he felt so indebted. One should feel free to act from one’s desire, not from a sense of obligation.”
Carrie stared at her in astonishment but said nothing. She knew the truth. Before Louisa came into the room, Natalie had shared that it was Nathan who had saved the night. Nathan, knowing his sister and not wanting to see her spoil the evening for his new friend, had engineered things beautifully. He had seen to it that not one dance went by without an escort for Louisa. In truth, it hadn’t been difficult. Louisa, when she wasn’t angry over not getting her own way, was quite charming. Her beauty had long lured fellows to her side. It had not taken long for Louisa to fall into the spirit of the ball and even be overheard telling people she was so thankful “that Robert Borden fellow” hadn’t felt obligated to her.
Louisa continued. “I do believe that Graham Jackson was quite taken with