Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [49]
“I’m fine now, Robert. Honest, I am. It was very silly of me to faint like that.”
He wasn’t listening. I could see that he’d prepared a little speech and he would forge ahead with it to the end, a soldier charging uphill into battle. “I realized the depth of my feelings for you yesterday, and I can’t go back to West Point tomorrow until I’ve talked to you about them. I can’t . . . I can’t bear the thought of you entertaining other suitors while I’m gone. This Rev. Greene—”
“I think you’ve misunderstood, Robert. I don’t have romantic feelings toward him or anyone else. Julia is interested in Nathaniel Greene, not me. I go places with them as a chaperone.”
“You’re so beautiful, Caroline. You could have any man in Philadelphia, but . . . but you once asked to dance only with me, remember? And at Rosalie’s wedding you let me monopolize all your time. Dare I hope that you share my feelings?”
Did I have feelings for him? Clumsy, boring Robert? He was well-meaning and pitifully sweet, my island of safety, my refuge. And after what I’d learned yesterday, I needed a safe place to hide more than ever before.
“Of course I’m fond of you, Robert.”
“Would you . . . could you consider . . . a-an understanding while I’m away?”
I frowned. “An understanding?”
“I know that we can’t make any formal announcements until I receive my army commission, but will you wait for me, darling?”
I saw a way out. I could stay in Philadelphia if I married Robert. I wouldn’t have to face my father. Or Tessie.
“I’ll think about it.”
“May I write to your father concerning my intentions?”
“If you wish,” I mumbled.
Robert lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you. Thank you, darling Caroline.”
It was only after he’d sailed for New York that I recalled Julia’s words and shuddered. If Robert was my husband I would have to share a bed with him, dressed in only my chemise.
On a cool autumn Sunday, midway through October, a subdued Nathaniel Greene stood in the pulpit of our church. “As you know,” he began, “I’ve been very outspoken about the need for all of us to join in the fight to abolish slavery. That need hasn’t changed. I still believe that God wants each one of us to decide what we should do to help. But a few months ago, a young woman asked me a simple question . . . and it has haunted me ever since. This morning I will ask all of you the same question: ‘Do you even know any Negroes?’ ”
Julia elbowed me in the ribs. “He’s talking about you, Caroline. You asked him that.” I held my fingers to my lips to shush her. I wanted to listen.
“The young woman wanted to know why—if we believe all men are created equal—why we segregate Negroes into separate neighborhoods? Separate schools? And, God forgive us, separate church pews? In this City of Brotherly Love, why aren’t these Christian brothers and sisters our schoolmates? Our neighbors? Our friends?”
Julia grabbed the back of my arm, unseen, and pinched. “You’re not going to steal him away from me! He’s mine!”
“Ow! I’m not interested in him, Julia.”
“Well, he certainly sounds interested in you.”
“Shh!” Aunt Martha’s frown was stern. I rubbed my arm and tried to slide away from Julia.
“We’ve outlawed slavery here in the North, thank God. But as my friend so keenly pointed out, the things that have replaced slavery aren’t any better. I’m talking about bigotry. And racism. Do you know any Negroes?”
As I glanced around at some of the faces in the congregation, I expected to see uneasiness, discomfort. But it surprised me to see anger. And opposition. Nathaniel must have seen them, too, but he courageously spoke his heart.
“The text for my sermon is found in the book of Isaiah, chapter fifty-eight. It says, ‘If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke . . . and if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noon day.’
“We’ve done away with the