Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [59]
I suddenly recalled a line from the Anti-Slavery Society’s aims—the overthrow of prejudice by the power of love. Once again, I knew that I had failed miserably. And with the same person, no less.
“I have never met anyone quite as infuriating as you,” I said for lack of anything better to say. “And if you believe in a God of grace instead of judgment, then why didn’t you buy that poor child an apple instead of trying to arrest him for stealing one?”
I saw Jonathan stroll into the room, and I rose to leave. “There you are, darling,” I said as he moved toward me.
He must have noticed our angry faces because he wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder. “Is something wrong, Caroline?”
I lifted my chin and smiled sweetly. “No. Nothing at all.”
“Good. Come dance with me, then. They’re playing a waltz.”
My anger slowly cooled as I drifted around the floor in his arms. “That man I was speaking with in the parlor . . . do you know him, Jonathan?”
“I never saw the gentleman before.”
“Oh, believe me, he’s no gentleman. How did your dance with Sally go?”
“Perfect!” He whirled me around in joy, grinning like a fool. “She gave me permission to call on her.”
I kept a wary eye out for the infuriating stranger, but I didn’t see him again for the remainder of the evening. He didn’t come into the ballroom to dance, nor was he at the buffet table later, when dinner was served. He must have left the party early, because he wasn’t in the foyer when we all said good-bye to Sally sometime after midnight. I might have been able to forget him altogether if I’d been able to stop thinking about his magnificent eyes.
I had a silent conversation with him as Tessie helped me take off my gown and get ready for bed. I thought of all the things I wished I’d said, and I planned all of the things I would say to him the next time. The next time? Would there even be a next time?
“I certainly hope not!” I mumbled as I dove beneath the covers. But that wasn’t quite true. Why was I rehearsing all these arguments if I wasn’t going to see him again? Just in case, I assured myself.
Then came the harder question—did I want to see him again?
“Certainly not!” I said aloud.
“If you gonna talk to yourself all night,” Tessie said from her bed in the corner, “then I guess I better go sleep someplace else.”
“Sorry. It’s just that he makes me so angry.”
“Who does? Your cousin?”
“No, not Jonathan. That . . . that man!”
“What man is that, honey?”
I didn’t even know his name.
Chapter Ten
Richmond 1860
January seemed to last a long time that year. I didn’t venture downtown very often because of the bad weather, nor did I have any more adventures with Jonathan, who had returned to college. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about Sally St. John’s party and my second encounter with the blue-eyed stranger.
On a blustery day in February—long after I should have forgotten the man—I sat at the table in my bedroom, trying to compose a letter to Robert at West Point. But I found myself remembering my argument with the stranger instead.
“Negroes are ignorant and superstitious,” he had said.“It’s been scientifically proven that the Negro race is inferior.”
“That’s just not true!” I said aloud.
Tessie looked up from her sewing. “You talking to me, honey?”
“No . . . I was talking to that horrible man.”
“The one you writing the letter to?”
“No, not Robert . . . him!” I tossed down the pen, leaving a blob of ink on my sheet of writing paper.
“Well, I just an ignorant old mammy . . . but I ain’t seeing any man in this here room.”
I was so angry I stood up. “You’re not ignorant, Tessie. And that’s exactly what I told him, too. It’s not your fault you’ve never had an education.”
Tessie stared