and seen a heap of beautiful things I haven’t yet.” He looked around. “There’s got to be all kinds of life in this city, everything a man has ever thought of. Crossroads to the nations of the earth. Makes me feel like a boy from the backwoods. And here I thought New York was getting sophisticated, after all our adventures.”
“Adventures?” Caroline asked with as much real curiosity as good manners.
He grinned. “Oh, New York after the war was something else, ma’am. You never saw a town like it in your life! Not a place for ladies then, but proper civilized now, compared with the past, that is. Mind, if you want the real gentry, maybe Boston is the town to be in.”
“Have you traveled farther west, Mr. Ellison?” Pitt spoke to him for the first time.
Samuel regarded him with interest. “I’ve been some—you mean like Indian country? I could tell a few tales, but a lot of them’d be sad, to my way of thinking. But maybe not every man’d agree with me.”
“Who would disagree with you?” Joshua asked with interest.
A shadow passed over Samuel’s face. “The march of progress is not always a pretty sight, sir, and it leaves an awful lot of dead bodies in its wake, sometimes the best part of a nation and its dreams get trodden under. I guess maybe the strongest wins, but the weaker can be very beautiful, and their passing can leave you with an emptiness inside there’s nothing left that can fill.”
Caroline glanced at Pitt. His face was turned away from the light, and the shadows threw his features into relief. In listening to Samuel he had caught a vision of some kind of bereavement, and the mark of it was plain to see.
“You speak with great feeling, Mr. Ellison,” Joshua said quietly. “You make us wish to hear more and learn what it is that moves you so deeply. I hope that we shall make your closer acquaintance.”
Samuel rose to his feet. “You are very generous, Mr. Fielding. I’ll surely take you up on it. But I guess that’s my cue to go back to my own box before the lights go down, so I don’t inconvenience you all by not being in my seat in time. Quite apart from manners, this is a play no one should miss the end of. I don’t think in all my days I’ve ever seen a woman like that leading lady of yours. She could light a fire just by looking at dry wood!” He turned to Caroline. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, ma’am. A man can choose his friends, but not his family. It’s a rare blessing to find nature’s pick for you coincides with your own.” And after bidding them all good evening, he and Leigh turned and went out of the door, closing it softly behind them.
Joshua stared at Caroline. “Can he be?”
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed without hesitation. She turned to Pitt, but it was not really a question.
Pitt nodded. “He bears a remarkable resemblance to Edward Ellison. It is too great to be coincidence.” He frowned slightly. “Did you know your father-in-law had an earlier wife?”
“No! I’m astounded,” she admitted. “I have never heard a single word about her. I am not even sure if Mrs. Ellison knows.” Years of hidden battles with the old lady were sharp in her mind, the criticism, the comparisons of the present with the past, always to the detriment of Caroline and her daughters. She could not help allowing a little bubble of satisfaction to rise inside her as she turned to the stage, ready to watch the drama there reach its climax.
She was immediately drawn into the tragedy again. Cecily Antrim’s character was the vehicle for such passion it was impossible to remain apart from it. Even the coming of Samuel Ellison into her life with his revelations was forgotten as the unfolding emotions captured her and she felt the pain and the urgency as if it were her own life.
Part of her resented the laying bare of feelings within herself she would rather not have recognized. Another part found a kind of release in no longer hiding them—and
“Adventures?” Caroline asked with as much real curiosity as good manners.
He grinned. “Oh, New York after the war was something else, ma’am. You never saw a town like it in your life! Not a place for ladies then, but proper civilized now, compared with the past, that is. Mind, if you want the real gentry, maybe Boston is the town to be in.”
“Have you traveled farther west, Mr. Ellison?” Pitt spoke to him for the first time.
Samuel regarded him with interest. “I’ve been some—you mean like Indian country? I could tell a few tales, but a lot of them’d be sad, to my way of thinking. But maybe not every man’d agree with me.”
“Who would disagree with you?” Joshua asked with interest.
A shadow passed over Samuel’s face. “The march of progress is not always a pretty sight, sir, and it leaves an awful lot of dead bodies in its wake, sometimes the best part of a nation and its dreams get trodden under. I guess maybe the strongest wins, but the weaker can be very beautiful, and their passing can leave you with an emptiness inside there’s nothing left that can fill.”
Caroline glanced at Pitt. His face was turned away from the light, and the shadows threw his features into relief. In listening to Samuel he had caught a vision of some kind of bereavement, and the mark of it was plain to see.
“You speak with great feeling, Mr. Ellison,” Joshua said quietly. “You make us wish to hear more and learn what it is that moves you so deeply. I hope that we shall make your closer acquaintance.”
Samuel rose to his feet. “You are very generous, Mr. Fielding. I’ll surely take you up on it. But I guess that’s my cue to go back to my own box before the lights go down, so I don’t inconvenience you all by not being in my seat in time. Quite apart from manners, this is a play no one should miss the end of. I don’t think in all my days I’ve ever seen a woman like that leading lady of yours. She could light a fire just by looking at dry wood!” He turned to Caroline. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, ma’am. A man can choose his friends, but not his family. It’s a rare blessing to find nature’s pick for you coincides with your own.” And after bidding them all good evening, he and Leigh turned and went out of the door, closing it softly behind them.
Joshua stared at Caroline. “Can he be?”
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed without hesitation. She turned to Pitt, but it was not really a question.
Pitt nodded. “He bears a remarkable resemblance to Edward Ellison. It is too great to be coincidence.” He frowned slightly. “Did you know your father-in-law had an earlier wife?”
“No! I’m astounded,” she admitted. “I have never heard a single word about her. I am not even sure if Mrs. Ellison knows.” Years of hidden battles with the old lady were sharp in her mind, the criticism, the comparisons of the present with the past, always to the detriment of Caroline and her daughters. She could not help allowing a little bubble of satisfaction to rise inside her as she turned to the stage, ready to watch the drama there reach its climax.
She was immediately drawn into the tragedy again. Cecily Antrim’s character was the vehicle for such passion it was impossible to remain apart from it. Even the coming of Samuel Ellison into her life with his revelations was forgotten as the unfolding emotions captured her and she felt the pain and the urgency as if it were her own life.
Part of her resented the laying bare of feelings within herself she would rather not have recognized. Another part found a kind of release in no longer hiding them—and
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