Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [61]
Jonathan and I arrived at the fairgrounds first and waited on a bench near the entrance for the St. Johns to arrive. At least I waited on the bench. Jonathan was so feverishly excited that I gave up trying to get him to sit down, let alone converse with me. If this was how people in love acted, I hoped it never happened to me.
“That’s Sally’s carriage!” he shouted when he finally spotted the matched team of horses trotting toward us.
“Calm down,” I said, laughing. “You’re dancing, and there isn’t even any music.”
The carriage pulled to a stop. The coachman stepped down to open the door. Sally alighted first, then her brother. When I saw who he was, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me.
Him again!
I felt my cheeks burning as Sally and Jonathan made the introductions. “I’d like you to meet my cousin, Caroline Fletcher.”
“This is my brother, Charles St. John.”
An icy silence followed their words. Charles and I both knew we were supposed to be polite, to say things like “how do you do?” and “pleased to meet you,” but we coldly stared past each other for what felt like an eternity.
When Charles suddenly began to laugh, I felt insulted. Jonathan and Sally gaped at him, mystified.
“Tell us the joke, Charles,” Sally said.
I made the mistake of looking into his eyes and my heart turned traitor on me, galloping as foolishly as a spring colt in a wide meadow. It was the first time I’d seen laughter in his eyes, and it made them startlingly bright, like the blue in a rainbow.
“You have to admit this is quite ironic,” he said when his laughter died away. “I had no idea you would be the mysterious cousin, and I can see by your reaction that you had no idea I was Sally’s brother.” His smile was so radiant, his face so transformed when he wasn’t scornful or angry, that I smiled weakly in return.
“Do you know each other?” Sally asked.
“Miss Fletcher and I have never been formally introduced until today. But we have bumped into each other before.”
“I remember now,” Jonathan said. “Weren’t you having some sort of disagreement at Sally’s party?”
“Oh, Charles, you’re not going to spoil this nice afternoon for me, are you?” Sally said, pouting.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly. “Truce, Miss Fletcher?”
“Of course.”
He offered his hand, and I shook it. His grip was warm and firm. A tight little knot in the pit of my stomach seemed to come unraveled at his touch, and I hated myself for reacting to him.
“I’m not hungry yet,” Sally decided. “Let’s stroll around the fairgrounds for a while before we eat.” Jonathan picked up the picnic basket that the St. Johns had brought, and Sally took his other arm. They started down the path ahead of us, Jonathan’s head bent lovingly toward her as they talked.
Thankfully, Charles didn’t offer me his arm. As we walked down the path behind them, I decided to take Cousin Rosalie’s advice and ask him about himself. I learned that he was five years older than me, that he’d graduated from Virginia University in Charlottesville, and that he would probably manage his father’s flour mills one day. But he also loved politics, and he was currently working as an aide to one of Virginia’s senators, traveling with him to Washington whenever Congress was in session.
I told Charles about my father’s business, about my cousin’s plantation, and how I’d attended school in Philadelphia for the past two years.
“Ah! So, that explains it,” he mumbled.
“Explains what?” But I knew exactly what he was going to say.
“How you became brainwashed with all that anti-slavery propaganda.”
“Nobody brainwashed me. I’m perfectly capable of thinking for myself.”
“Let me guess, they had you read Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and—”
“For your information, I have never read it. I didn’t need to. My experiences with slavery right here in Virginia were enough to—”
“Your experiences should have told you that Miss Stowe’s book is filled with melodramatic exaggerations.”
“Have you read it, Mr. St. John?”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead—”
He stopped short when Sally suddenly pushed between