Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [74]
I knew he was right. I recalled seeing long lines of carriages in Philadelphia, waiting for a party or some other social gathering to end. The emotion-filled day must have made me overly sensitive. I started to climb into the carriage behind Sally and Jonathan, but Charles stopped me.
“Caroline. . . ?” His fingers caressed my cheek while his eyes searched mine, as if to see if his words had offended me. “I agree that some plantation slaves have a difficult life,” he said gently. “But our servants lead pretty good lives, don’t they?”
I glanced up at Josiah, but his stony expression was unreadable. I wanted to explain to Charles that Josiah and Tessie were in love, to ask Charles how he would feel if we were prevented from living together in marriage, as they were. But I didn’t say anything. Charles was a good man who genuinely hated injustice. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been raised to accept slavery as a natural way of life, just as Daddy and Jonathan and everyone else in Richmond had been. The fact that I sometimes saw things differently could never alter the fact that I loved him.
“Yes, Charles,” I said. “They’re treated well.”
On Sunday, Daddy and I joined the St. Johns for worship services at St. Paul’s Church. Across the street in Capitol Square, the Rebel flag had been removed from the capitol building, and the United States flag waved in the breeze above it once again. Most of the excitement over the surrender of Fort Sumter had died away, but a cloud of suspense seemed to hover over the city as everyone braced for the next thunderclap.
Nearly every pew in church was filled with people, and I knew that nearly every heart, like mine, was filled with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Even so, most people avoided discussing the latest news and talked of spiritual matters, as was fitting and proper on the Lord’s Day. Daddy and I joined Charles’ family for a lovely Sunday dinner, and it was as if Sumter had never happened as our conversation focused on simple pleasantries.
Monday’s news plunged us all back into the maelstrom.
Every newspaper in the nation trumpeted the appalling headline— President Lincoln had declared war on the South. To prove his resolve, he had called for an army of seventy-five thousand men to put down the rebellion. I desperately needed Charles to reassure me that Virginia would not become involved in this conflict, that our wedding would take place in July, that we would begin our new life together just as we’d planned. But Charles was gone all day and half the night as the state convention met in the capitol to debate secession.
When I read the newspaper on Tuesday, all remaining hope for neutrality dissolved. Lincoln’s secretary of war had demanded that Virginia do its share to quench the Southern rebellion by sending three regiments of soldiers to Washington. Governor Letcher refused this demand. He must have had a change of heart since the night Fort Sumter surrendered, because he told President Lincoln that his request “has inaugurated civil war.”
I waited all day Tuesday for Charles to come, then all day Wednesday. Sick with anxiety, I sorted through the items in my hope chest, folding and refolding linen sheets and damask napkins, wondering if I’d ever have a chance to use them. Tessie threatened to lock the chest and take away the key.
“You gonna have them nice things all worn out before you ever use a one of them,” she scolded.
Charles finally arrived at our house early Thursday morning, exhausted after a sleepless night of debates. I quickly dressed and hurried downstairs without taking time to pin up my hair. The news he brought Daddy and me was anything but reassuring.
“Late last