A Hope Beyond (36 page)
“Mr. St. John told her that she’d killed his boy and that he could never forgive her for that, and furthermore”—Mrs. Graves paused to wipe tears from her eyes—“he wanted nothing to do with Victoria. I tried to comfort Suzanna as best I could, but she was devastated. She bid me take Victoria and give her a bath, and while I did that, Suzanna slipped from the house and . . .” The words trailed off in quivering tones of deep sorrow. “She threw herself into the harbor. She drowned herself in the same place where she’d let her son slip away.”
Carolina was stunned. In all her years at the St. John house, she had never even suspected such a horrendous story lay buried in its history.
“What did he do?” was all she could think to ask.
“Once he sobered up and remembered what he’d done, he went to apologize. Of course, she was gone, and I had been quite beside myself all night with a crying baby and a worried heart. He went out in search of her, but it wasn’t long before he returned. Her body had been found. Then the battle of her burial began.”
“Why should there have been a battle?”
“Because it was commonly felt that she committed suicide, even though the master tried to convince folks otherwise. He didn’t want her memory tainted, and she could not be buried on sacred church ground having taken her own life. St. John was livid. He denounced the church and the actions of pious, self-righteous people who would believe such a hideous thing of his young wife—all the while knowing, of course, that they were right about her suicide. Finally the clergy relented and allowed him to bury Suzanna beside her son, but Mr. St. John never forgave the church and its people for shunning him and his wife in their most grievous hour of need.”
“I’m not sure I blame him. Surely the people could have understood her heartbreak. And, too, perhaps it had been an accident after all. Perhaps she had only longed to go to that place where last she had seen Charles alive. Maybe once there, she slipped.”
Mrs. Graves gave Carolina a look of appreciable kindness. “You are a gentle soul, Miss Carolina. Victoria is fortunate to have you with her.”
“Mr. St. John has never accepted her, has he?”
“Never, and I don’t suppose he will. He locked away all memory of her birth and that dreadful night when he closed off her mother’s room. That’s the one at the end of the hall that always remains locked.”
“Yes, I had presumed that.”
“He lets no one in there, save himself, and he has yet to admit to his moments spent there. He slips in during the night when he thinks we are all asleep. But I have heard him crying there and longed to comfort him. He simply will never forgive God.”
“More likely,” Carolina said, sighing heavily, “he will never forgive himself, either.”
“Might I have a word with you, Miss Adams?” Blake St. John inquired, coming into the family sitting room.
Carolina gazed up from the sewing she held and smiled. “Of course.” St. John had surprised them all by appearing in time for the Fourth of July celebrations, but instead of joining them on picnics and outings to see parades, he’d chosen instead to keep to himself. This was the first time he’d even bothered to acknowledge his presence to Carolina beyond one or two brief encounters in passing.
Blake sat opposite Carolina and crossed his legs as though intending to stay awhile. Carolina, seeing the look of determination in his expression, put aside her sewing and folded her hands in her lap.
“I have come to some conclusions,” Blake began. “It hasn’t been easy, considering the matters before me, but I have chosen a path that I feel content with and hope you will endeavor to understand and to accept my choices.”
“I’m certain my acceptance has never been overly important to you,” she replied coolly.
“That is not entirely true.” Blake paused as though struggling heavily with what he was about to say. “You see, I’ve come to greatly respect you, Miss Adams. You have offered my daughter the proper upbringing to which she was entitled. You, being a lady of refinement and knowing the proprieties of society, have instilled in Victoria the necessary elements of breeding.”
Carolina frowned. Knowing that she should hold her tongue, she barely bit back a snide reply. How would he know what she had brought to the life of his daughter? He scarcely acknowledged the child’s existence.
“I know what you are thinking,” he said, fixing a dark, impassioned gaze upon her. “You needn’t play games with me, and I give you leave to speak freely with me because the matter I intend to speak to you about is of utmost importance to both of us.”
“I’m sure I don’t understand.” Carolina tried to imagine what he would say next. Blake St. John never failed to amaze her, and this moment was no exception.
“I desire to go west. I have recently acquired the book
Astoria
. Are you familiar with it?”
“Washington Irving,” she declared with a nod. “Yes, I’ve read it. He speaks of westward adventure and the formation of trading posts and of Astoria, in the Oregon Territories.”
“Yes,” St. John agreed. “I have found this to my liking and believe I will explore the possibilities for myself.”
Carolina felt her heart give a leap. “What of Victoria?”
“Well, that does present a problem, and it is precisely why I would speak to you now.”
“I don’t understand. Surely you don’t propose to drag us along with you to the West? A child would never survive the—”
“Never!” Blake interrupted. “Even I would never propose such a thing. You must try to understand, Miss Adams. I know you cannot forgive me for my actions—I neither expect or deserve that. But surely you can see how difficult my prolonged presence in this house is . . . for me and for . . . everyone. Thus, I cannot stay here another day. Nor can I bear yet another moment of her presence.”
Anger raged inside Carolina. How dare he speak of his child in such a manner! She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up his hand to quiet her.
“Please.” His voice was desperate. “Please hear me out.”
“Very well.” She tried to settle her mind and still the angry retorts that hung on her lips.
“I know I have unfairly dealt with you regarding the matter of Victoria, but suffice it to say, her mother’s death and passing is relived daily when I lay eyes upon that child. You cannot be so cruel as to hold against me that which I can scarcely admit to myself.” He got up and paced the floor behind the chair, pausing only long enough to stare out the front window into the darkened city street outside.
“I want to go west, but I do not desire to take Victoria with me. I implore you to understand that it is actually my wish to never lay eyes on the child again.” He turned abruptly, startling Carolina with the intensity of his stare. “That is where you come in.”
“I’m sure I don’t understand.”
“I desire you to remain here. To live on as Victoria’s sole caregiver. I will, of course, set up a bank account from which you will never want. You may draw upon it freely and furnish the place as you desire. You will be given a free hand with all of my accounts and may proceed with Victoria’s upbringing as you see fit, whether you desire to send her away to finishing school or to see her married early to some suitable young man. You may then close the house and take the proceeds from the bank, leaving Victoria whatever you choose.”
Carolina felt her eyes widen and her mouth grow slack. The stunning declaration was more than she could fathom. “Do you actually mean to give your child to me?”
“You are the only mother she has ever known,” he reasoned. “She has great affection for you, and I know by your own admission that you in turn care for her as if she were your own.”
“That much is true, but it hardly offers reasoning to your proposal. How could you consider leaving her for the unknown West? How could you go through life never knowing what became of her?”
“Understand me, Miss Adams.” He gripped the back of a nearby chair and continued pleading. “I cannot give the child what she has need of. I cannot live with her any longer, and it is my intention to leave Baltimore for all time.”
“Would you see her orphaned?”
“Would you?” Blake asked her bluntly. “For you are truly mother to the child. If you will not agree to the terms of my proposal, then Victoria will have no one.”
“That is hardly fair,” Carolina declared, getting to her feet.
“Perhaps not, but it is the way I see it, and those are my terms. I leave it up to you, Miss Adams, but with or without your approval, it is my plan to make for the West before the summer is out.”
Carolina felt a deep burden upon her in the days that followed Blake’s declaration. How could she desert the child she’d come to think of as her own? On the other hand, how could she remain in the St. John house with Blake gone, probably forever? There would never be a moment’s peace, and Carolina would literally find her life frozen in time. Gone would be any chance to seek expanding her education or of marrying and having a family of her own. And, too, no doubt her respectability would suffer if she should decide to stay on. People might see her as St. John’s “kept woman.” It was already a questionable arrangement, but were legal papers to be drawn up with a bank account at her disposal, tongues would wag and with good reason. No, her reputation was already hanging by a thread. To pursue an even more open state of dependency upon the elusive Mr. St. John would leave her in questionable public standing. Surely Blake could see that such a choice would condemn her to a life of solitude.
Yet was it really solitude? After all, she would have Victoria and there would be no possibility of dismissal. But what if Blake found his heart suddenly mended by the change in location and remarried? Carolina’s heart felt torn at the very thought of Blake appearing one day to present a new wife and mother for Victoria. It would be wonderful for him, she thought, but how very hard it would be to let go of Victoria and give her over to another woman.
She’d had no opportunity to speak to Blake about her fears, nor was she certain she would feel comfortable enough to address her thoughts with him. Nevertheless, when the evening finally did arrive and Blake forced the issue of her answer, Carolina voiced her concerns, even the most delicate ones.
“What is to stop you from disappearing for a number of years only to reappear and lay claim once again to your home and daughter? And you would be well within your rights to do so,” Carolina reasoned. “But where would that leave me? You are asking me to give up my life and my future plans without any compensation or assurance that I will not be the one left out in the cold when all is said and done.”
Blake started to speak, but Carolina would not let him steer her away from her determination to bare her soul. “No! Hear me out. For if I do not say what is on my heart, I will forever be condemned to live with the knowledge that I left this matter undone.” He sat back in his chair and waited. “You must understand, Mr. St. John, Victoria has become very important to me. Of course you know that I love her; of that there can be no question. She is a dear little girl and I adore her. But what is to become of our relationship should you one day reappear with a new Mrs. St. John? The child I have come to love and to whom I have devoted my entire life would suddenly be taken from me.”
Blake scowled and his countenance darkened in a foreboding manner. “There will never be another Mrs. St. John. My heart and soul went into the grave with my wife and child. How could you be so cruel as to suggest the possibility of another Mrs. St. John?”
“Be realistic, Mr. St. John,” Carolina said, feeling quite bold. “You are a young man of handsome appearance and quality breeding. You are wealthy, and that in and of itself is enough to attract many a woman. Perhaps removing yourself from the place of your sorrow will allow your heart to mend and seek another. After all, it’s not been that long since the death of your wife.”
Blake looked at her as if trying to weigh the validity of her statement. “My looks and breeding, my money and position, are immaterial. I have no desire to ever take another wife. I will never love another soul on this earth and that includes my daughter.”
“You are heartless!” she declared, hands on hips.
“Yes, and I’ve tried for lo these many years to tell you just that. I am heartless and without feeling. My emotions and feelings are dead, just as my wife and son are dead. They will not be reborn from the grave, and neither will my ability to feel and care for another.”
He stood without warning and crossed the room to where Carolina stood. Leaning very close to her face, he spoke slowly, with deliberate caution. “It is solely in your hands, Miss Adams. Either you will remain with Victoria, or you will dismiss yourself from her presence. You accuse me of being unable to see Victoria’s needs, but I see them quite clearly. You are the one she needs, not me. I have made the ultimate sacrifice by seeing that to remove myself from her life and securing your position with her is in keeping with her very best interests. Perhaps now, if you love her as you swear, you should be prepared to sacrifice as well.”
He left her to stare after him and contemplate his words. Carolina felt as though she might burst into tears any moment. The man was impossible! Partly for his lack of feeling and partly for his pinpointing the truth of the situation in such a way that Carolina was held totally responsible for the outcome.