But now as Thomas Swann’s carriage approached the wrought-iron gate of the Baldwin home, he felt anything but successful. Words failed him as he considered how he might break the news of James Baldwin’s accident to his wife.
Watching in silence as the driver expertly maneuvered the horses through the open gateway, Swann drew a deep breath and set his jaw. He had been in the acquaintance of Carolina Baldwin for many years, and for just as long had handled her business affairs with her complete and consummate trust. She would not find it in the leastwise odd that he should approach her house on this day. He was a frequent visitor there, usually speaking to them on some matter pertaining to the railroad, but just as often stopping by on less formal occasions to share their company. And while he had given over her legal affairs to his former partner, Swann found that she still solicited his advice from time to time on matters of a more personal nature.
It was through these gatherings that he had come to know James, as well. He had heard of James through Ben Latrobe’s reports and the word-of-mouth praise that often passed among men bent on one particular goal. He found James Baldwin a good match for the spirited young woman and could easily see their union as something ordained by God. He had always known that she hadn’t married St. John for love, nor had she wed him for the money he possessed. No, Carolina had instead lost her heart to St. John’s daughter, Victoria, and that was what bound her to the marriage. That St. John had died in a carriage accident so soon after their union seemed an uneventful moment in Carolina’s life. He had loved neither his daughter nor his wife, and had in truth spent very little time in the house, even when Carolina had been working as his nanny. But as awkward and unfitting as St. John and Carolina had been for each other, Swann easily recognized the opposite was true of her and James Baldwin. They appeared together as the best of all possible fits. Both were intelligent and driven, but where James tended to be more reserved and quiet, Carolina was all fire and turbulence. They worked well together. But now Swann would have to tell Carolina that her husband had been in an accident.
Only that morning he’d received the telegraphed message that James had been injured the previous day. The details of his condition were unknown at that time, but his injuries apparently were extensive. Ben Latrobe had sent the message, and he promised to keep Swann apprised of the situation. For now, Swann felt he had little to offer Carolina except the dreaded news of James’ present condition.
Disembarking his coach, he shivered against the bitter February winds and pulled his collar up to shield himself from the worst of it. The walkway seemed longer than usual, and with each step, Swann’s eloquence failed him. What would he say? How could he possibly offer her any real comfort when he knew so very little? He reached for the brass knocker on the ornate oak door and let it fall against the wood once, then twice more. Mrs. Graves, showing her age and a bit of extra weight, greeted the man with a beaming smile.
“Well, now, Mr. Swann, and to what do we owe this pleasure?” She noticed the carriage driver and waved. “Have your man come around back for something warm to drink.”
Swann motioned the man to the back of the house, then doffed his top hat and gave the woman the slightest bow. “Mrs. Graves, I see you are faring well through this bitter winter.”
“I’m not so certain about that,” the housekeeper said, stepping back from the door to allow Swann entry. “This cold has left me chilled to the bone.”
He nodded and put his hat upon the receiving table. “Is Mrs. Baldwin at home?” he questioned as he unfastened the buttons of his heavy wool coat.
“She is indeed. She’ll be quite happy to see you, in fact.” Mrs. Graves leaned closer and spoke in a conspiratorial manner. “She’s missing Mr. Baldwin something fierce. Maybe in his absence you will offer second best.”
“I’m afraid not today,” he said, letting the housekeeper take his coat and gloves. “I’ve come with ill tidings.”
Mrs. Graves paled. “About the master?”
“Yes.” Swann hesitated to say anything more, wanting to break the news to Carolina in as gentle a way as possible. If she saw her housekeeper in a fit of tears, there wouldn’t be any chance to make this easy on her. “Please, just call Mrs. Baldwin, and we’ll discuss this together.”
Mrs. Graves nodded and showed Swann to the front parlor. “Wait here, please.”
He did as instructed, taking a seat in the sturdy-looking wing chair he found by the fireplace. His thick shock of dark hair had fallen down onto his forehead, and it was while attempting to right this problem that Carolina entered the room with a stricken look on her face. Obviously Mrs. Graves had already lent an air to the nature of his visit.
“What is it? What has happened to James?”
“I’m afraid there was an accident,” Swann began. “Please come sit with me, and I will share what I know. For now, James is safely in the care of doctors and doing well.” He elaborated on the latter part, praying that it was true.
A look of relief seemed to wash over Carolina as she hurried to take up her position opposite Swann. “What kind of accident? Was it another derailment?”
Swann knew about James’ near-death experience when Phineas Davis had lost his life. “No, it wasn’t a derailment. It involved a landslide near Doe Gully Tunnel.”
“Doe Gully? That’s west of Harper’s and Martinsburg, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. It seems a shelf of slate broke loose and fell across the tracks, blocking the west portal of the tunnel. I don’t really have the details, but somehow James was injured.”
“I see,” Carolina said, twisting her hands.
Swann studied the young woman for a moment. Even though they’d known each other for nearly seven years, he thought she had changed very little. Her skin was still a milky white and youthful, despite the fine lines about her eyes and mouth, which seemed only to add depth and interest to her lovely appearance. Her eyes were warm and dark, and though they held grave concern in their expression just now, Swann thought them to be most beautiful. They had certainly never held such sorrow in them when Blake St. John had passed away. As St. John’s attorney and manager, Swann had also had to bring the news of that tragedy to Carolina, and while shocking, the news had certainly not given her reason to grieve overmuch.
He reached out a hand and patted her arm. In his thirty-nine years of life and fifteen years of marriage, he had never been good at dealing with women’s sorrow. Oh, his own Elizabeth had said he was quite compassionate and perfect in easing her miseries, but Swann never felt confident in such things. Give him a meeting room with caterwauling investors and argumentative board members any day.
“He’s been taken to Harper’s Ferry,” he began again. “Although I’m uncertain as to why they didn’t just take him back to Cumberland. Maybe they felt it would be wiser to get him home to Baltimore for more extensive medical help.” He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, and he quickly sought to soften them. “Then again, maybe he was well enough to travel and refused to go back. That would be just like James. Always pushing forward.”
Carolina nodded and dropped her gaze to her lap. “I suppose it would be like him.”
“I’ll send a telegraphed message to Ben Latrobe. He’s there with him. I’ll find out how soon James will be heading back to Baltimore. I’d imagine he’ll be here before you know it.”
“No!” Carolina exclaimed, her head snapping up. “I want to go to him. I can’t just sit here in Baltimore waiting to learn of his fate. I want to go on the very next train. I need to be at his side.”
“It’s too late to go today. I can arrange for it tomorrow morning.”
Carolina nodded and turned to Mrs. Graves, whom she had requested to remain to hear Swann’s news. “Will you pack my things?”
“Certainly. And I will also tend to the children while you are away.” The housekeeper hurried off without a further word, apparently to see to the task immediately.
Carolina was more thankful than ever for her loyal housekeeper, who was so much more than a hired servant. When Carolina had decided not to place her children in the care of a nanny, Mrs. Graves had said,
“And why should you, when you have a substitute granny right
here to help out whenever you need?”
Carolina turned to Swann with pained intensity. “If you know something more, something that you aren’t telling me—”
Swann shook his head. “I promise you, I have told you everything. I only know what little the telegram explained.”
Carolina sighed. “Wondrous things, telegraphs. Linking people together faster than even locomotives,” she murmured absently. Her mind, however, was hardly on the great invention, nor on her good fortune that the B&O had seen the potential of such communication and had allowed for the use of their right-of-ways to put up telegraph poles. But without that telegraph she might not have known of James’ condition for days. “I only hope it was fast enough,” she mused her fear aloud.
“Carolina,” Swann said softly, casting aside all formality, “he will be fine. You’ll see. I’m sure his injuries will be treatable, and before we know it James will be back on his feet. After all, he’s gone through a derailment and lived to tell about it.”
Carolina smiled weakly. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s just that—”
“What, my dear?”
“I suppose I feel guilty. I was praying that God would send him back to me for a good long time. I wanted him here in Baltimore, Thomas. I didn’t want to have to go even another day without him.” She began to weep softly into her hands. “I’m so selfish,” she whispered.
“Not at all. I would say it is quite a statement of love that you should find his companionship so welcome, even after all these years. Many a couple would happily be parted and rid themselves of the constant turmoil of their miserable existence.”
“I could not bear to lose him,” Carolina said, lifting tear-filled eyes. “I could not live without him.”
“Nonsensical talk, Carolina,” Swann replied. “You aren’t going to have to live without him. I’ve never known you to give in to speculation like this. Where is your faith?”
The sound of children squealing and arguing came from upstairs and grew louder as the noise of numerous feet pounded down the steps. Carolina instantly dried her eyes with the edge of her sleeve, and Swann watched as her entire countenance changed. She would be strong for her children. This was evident in the way she positioned herself straighter in the chair. She cast him one quick, wordless glance, but it spoke volumes and Swann gave her a brief smile. It was understood that the children would be kept from fear and concern.
“Give back!” Jordana screamed at Brenton as they entered the parlor.
“Mama,” Brenton called, pushing away from his sister. In his hands he clutched a cloth-headed stick horse. “Tell her no!”
Carolina surveyed her children, then spoke. “Cease this yelling at once and tell me calmly what is going on.”
“She took my horse,” Brenton said indignantly.
“Mine too!” Jordana said, reaching out for the wooden stick pony.
“He’s mine, not yours!” Brenton protested.
Carolina got up and took matters into her own hands. “Jordana, you know that this pony belongs to Brenton. Now, I’m sure we can find something just as much fun for you to play with.”
“Want pony,” Jordana said, kicking her feet as her mother lifted her into her arms.
Swann watched as Carolina allowed herself a brief moment of weakness as she nestled her face against Jordana’s dark hair. He alone saw the anguished look that passed over her face. It pierced his heart, and he longed to find some way to take the pain from her.
Just then Mrs. Graves appeared at the door and hurried into the room to take Jordana and Brenton in hand. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Baldwin,” she said, speaking formally. “I was bringing down your trunk, and they slipped out of the nursery.”
“It’s all right. No harm has been done, except that poor Brenton fears his pony will find its way to a new stable.”
“Miss Jordana, you come with me, and we’ll see if Cook has something good to eat. Maybe you can help make biscuits for dinner.”
“Want cookies,” Jordana said, clapping her hands together. “Cookies. Cookies.” At this, Brenton lost interest in the hobby horse and trailed after Mrs. Graves, insisting that he, too, would find much pleasure in a sugary treat.
“I should be going,” Swann commented, seeing this moment as the perfect time to excuse himself from Carolina’s company. “I will arrange for your passage in the morning. I will meet you at the station, and if I can get away, I will accompany you myself to Harper’s Ferry.”
“Thank you, Thomas,” Carolina said, squaring her shoulders and drawing a deep breath. “I am so grateful for your assistance. Thank you for coming yourself to tell me of James.”
He took her hand and kissed it lightly. “I would never have dreamed of doing otherwise.”
The passage to Harper’s Ferry was uneventful. Carolina spent most of the time in contemplative silence. Thomas Swann, respecting her need, kept his interest to the most current issue of the
Niles Register
. Carolina greatly appreciated his kindness in accompanying her to see James. She knew his schedule was quite hectic these days, and it deeply touched her to know that he cared enough about her family to offer this gesture.
When the locomotive finally arrived at the depot, Carolina scarcely even noticed the surroundings. She allowed Swann to lead her from the passenger car, but when he mentioned that James was in a hospital, she nearly broke down at the station. Carolina held the common notion that hospitals were where people went to die. It was unbearable that James should be in such a place.
Carolina was silent during the carriage ride to the hospital. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she would find upon her arrival. Would James already be dead? Or would he be alive but suffering painful injuries? She tried not to let her imagination get the best of her, but it was so hard.
“I’m certain we’ll find everything in top order,” Swann told her as he assisted her across the hospital threshold.