Blessing (3 page)

“It should be cooler here,” Stoddard replied, touching his upper lip with his folded handkerchief. “After this convention, I want to spend a few days relaxing by Cayuga Lake, near here. Mother has been taking the waters at Saratoga. That is how I met Miss Foster.”

Blessing was becoming familiar with the accent. It was different but held a certain appeal.

“Yes, my mother was there also, drinking the waters,” Tippy said, lifting her glass in a mock salute and taking a sip.

“When Tippy read about this meeting in the newspaper, she sent me a telegram,” Blessing spoke up. “I set off immediately from Cincinnati and arrived yesterday. I wish there had been more advance notice. I barely made it in time.”

“You’re both from Cincinnati?” Ramsay asked.

“Yes, we’re longtime friends,” Tippy replied, reaching for the Quakeress’s hand. “Blessing is a very exceptional and interesting woman. I know my life would be very flat without her.”

Blessing shook her head but accepted Tippy’s hand. “Tippy, my life would be flat without thee.”
And very lonely.
Tippy had been one of the few who’d persisted in being her friend during the dark years of her marriage. And there were not many others Blessing could trust with her secret missions.

Their food was served, and luncheon ended up being brief. Soon the four of them rose to cede their table to other hungry convention attendees.

“Well, Gerard,” Stoddard said, looking mischievous, “I take it you won’t be joining us this afternoon?” Before Gerard could reply, Stoddard went on. “I have a room here at the inn, and you can bunk with me tonight if you wish. Kennan, too, if he doesn’t mind some crowding a bit.”

“Thanks. I will stay with you and tell Kennan.” Gerard turned to Blessing and Tippy. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, ladies.”

“Don’t you mean a surprise?” Tippy teased again.

“Mind thy manners, Tippy,” Blessing scolded gently. She offered her hand to Ramsay. “I enjoyed our conversation, Gerard Ramsay. I hope thee finds something interesting and cool to occupy thyself with today.”

Ramsay merely bowed over her hand.

The four walked through the noisy inn together and out the door, the women preceding the men. Blessing resisted the urge to turn around and glance once more at Ramsay. He had gained her attention, something few men did. Maybe it was the accent, maybe something more. But he had the same air of wealth and security that Richard had possessed. That alone was a warning to her.

She drew in the thick air and pushed him from her mind. Thinking of the afternoon of spirited discussion ahead, she took a quick step onto the dusty street and walked arm in arm with Tippy, who laughed out loud unexpectedly. Blessing suspected she knew the reason why.

“Stoddard, may I have a private word with you?” Gerard asked, realizing he sounded a bit desperate.

“Ladies, I’ll just be a moment,” Stoddard called after them. “I’ll catch up with you.” He drew Gerard into the greenery around the inn. “I’m going to the meeting. It’s the most interesting, most revolutionary event I’ve ever attended. And you don’t have to stay and chaperone me. I know what I’m doing.”

Gerard steamed. “Do you? That reporter is here. He might include our names as attending this farce.”

“You’re not concerned about his mentioning your name. Just think how you’d enjoy the unpleasant jolt that would give your father. A Ramsay at a radical meeting.” Stoddard paused. “And I don’t care one whit if all Boston—indeed, all Massachusetts—knows I’ve attended a women’s rights convention.”

Gerard nearly swallowed his tongue.

Stoddard laughed and shoved Gerard’s shoulder. “Go find Kennan. He’s probably somewhere getting drunk. Then stay here or go back to Saratoga Springs or Boston, whichever you choose. But be happy for me, Gerard. I’ve found a woman who defies our dismal concept of womanhood and the bondage we considered marriage.”

Gerard tried to interrupt, but Stoddard pressed on.

“And I’m not going to let Tippy or her exciting ideas slip from my grasp. I’m tired of my lonely bachelorhood and stifling Beacon Hill society. I’m moving to Cincinnati, Cousin. I’m going west!”

Following the afternoon meeting and supper at the packed inn, Blessing mounted the narrow stairs toward the room she shared with Tippy. As Tippy’s chaperone, Blessing did not think she needed to stand over the two while the younger woman said good night to Stoddard. They both were sensible. What did it matter if Stoddard stole a kiss in the gloaming?

A bittersweet memory of the first time Richard had kissed her spiked like a stitch in her side. He’d been so handsome, so charming, and she’d allowed that to sway her from all she believed. Trying to ignore the ache of guilt, she let herself into their room and immediately slipped off her shoes and stockings. Oh, to be free to run barefoot as a child again.

She shed her bonnet and gloves, moving to the open window and letting the soft evening breeze cool her. Fine linen tacked to the window kept out the mosquitoes and provided privacy.

Tippy came in and bolted the door behind her. “Oh, Blessing, isn’t this wonderful?” Tippy danced in the middle of the room as if waltzing.

Blessing turned to enjoy her friend’s happiness. “Is thee referring to the decision to include seeking the franchise for women in the declaration, or to a certain young gentleman of Boston?”

Tippy sank onto the bed with a gurgle of laughter. “Both!”

A crosscurrent of emotions kept Blessing by the window. She was happy for Tippy. She was frightened for her. Loving posed such a risk. Was Stoddard all that he appeared to be?
Or did his handsome face and quick smile conceal unforeseen heartache for Tippy?

“What did you think of Stoddard’s cousin?”

Gerard Ramsay’s handsome but world-weary face flashed in Blessing’s mind. “He is interesting.”

Tippy grinned. “How interesting?”

“Not as interesting as the day’s events. I can’t believe we got to hear Frederick Douglass speak.”

“Not to mention hearing Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott addressing a
promiscuous
gathering—men and women in the same audience! A shock the walls did not fall in.” Tippy gave a small laugh. “My mind is bursting with all manner of ideas,” she admitted. “I wish all men respected women as much as the men who attended the meeting today.”

The sound of Stoddard’s and Ramsay’s voices, as they no doubt walked the hall to their nearby room, came through the door. Blessing thought again of Gerard Ramsay. He clearly didn’t approve of the convention or of Tippy and Stoddard’s friendship or of Tippy’s radical ideas. Was it merely because Tippy was from Cincinnati, not from snobbish Boston?

“Blessing?” Tippy prompted.

She turned and smiled. “I’m sorry. I was remembering so many things from this day.”
And wondering if thee will love more wisely than I.

BOSTON

JULY 24, 1848

“I cannot understand what you were thinking.” Gerard’s father, Saul Ramsay, slapped the folded and somewhat-mangled
newspaper from a few days ago in front of Gerard at the breakfast table in their pale-blue-and-white morning room. The open floor-to-ceiling windows allowed a scant breeze inside, barely stirring the white sheers.

“What possessed you to go to Seneca Falls and on those particular two days? You were seen outside that ridiculous women’s rights meeting. And I had to read about it in the newspaper and then field impertinent inquiries.” His father’s voice dripped with haughty censure.

Gerard stared at his father, his heavy-lidded, walnut-shaped eyes. Except for those, the two men looked so similar, but they had never liked each other. The heaviness over Gerard’s heart plagued him most here. He’d only returned home to see his mother before—

“Well?” His father filled his cup from the sterling-silver coffee urn and then opened the matching chafing dishes on the sideboard, releasing the fragrance of bacon.

“I went to see Stoddard. He was in the district and it was convenient to pay a visit.” In Seneca Falls, Gerard had stayed with Stoddard at the inn while Kennan had left the next day, going off with some friends to gamble at a horse race. Betting on horses was nothing a man given to drink should attempt. Kennan didn’t appear to realize this. Typical. Troubling.

“I knew, of course, that Stoddard had gone to Saratoga Springs with my sister,” his father replied.

Gerard nodded and tried to begin eating again. He had little appetite in this place, a house that had never felt like home.

“So what drew your cousin from Saratoga Springs to the Finger Lakes?”

A pretty blonde with advanced ideas.
Gerard shrugged.
Long ago he had stopped trying to explain anything his father wouldn’t like. It was easier on both of them.

His father began working his way through breakfast while Gerard nibbled his toast and sipped the good coffee.

“I’m glad you’ve come home, Son.” The gravity of his voice did not bode well.

Gerard silently waited for him to continue. What was Father going to demand from him this time? Did he want another promise that Gerard would reform his way of life?

“I have been talking to the banker Briggs Mason. His daughter Cordelia has just come out this year. She is charming, sweet—the perfect candidate for your wife. Well connected, and she’ll come with a generous portion. You’ve been the young bachelor around town long enough. It’s time you settled down and came into the family shipping business.”

Gerard hadn’t expected this . . . yet his father had been making noises about Gerard’s settling down over the last year or so. Did Father really think that he would go along with this plan, give up his independence and go into the bondage of a society marriage? “I see.”

“The Masons have invited us to dine this Saturday evening. Your mother has agreed to make the effort to leave her chaise longue to go with us.”

Gerard enjoyed saying his next sentence. “I’m very sorry, but I won’t be in town this Saturday.”

The vein in his father’s right temple began to bulge, a sure sign of his irritation. “This is important. You can change your plans.”

Gerard drained the rest of his coffee. Perhaps it was his
age, but he was tired of this fencing with his father over duties he never intended to assume. He decided not to use evasion again. He would tell his father the plain truth, go upstairs to spend an hour with his mother, and then leave Boston.

“Father, I’m leaving today for Ohio. I won’t be going to meet Miss Mason or courting her. I am not settling down—not here. I might settle in Cincinnati.”
Or not.

“Cincinnati?” His father sounded more bewildered than angry. “It’s a provincial backwater. Why would you even think of leaving Boston?” He made Boston sound synonymous with heaven.

“I have been living my own life for many years now. I expect to continue to do so. I will, of course, let you know when I arrive safely and where I can be reached.” Gerard wiped his mouth with his impeccably white napkin and rose.

“I don’t understand you, Gerard. Why must you be so . . . independent?” The way his father said the final word made it a slur. “We are a family.”

Gerard gazed at his father. A family? When had they ever felt like a family? There were so many words he wanted to say, but he had no hope of their ever being heard. “I am the way I am, Father.”
And you are the way you are.
He turned away.