A Woman of Consequence

By James Dedman

"Once, I ruled this world . . ."

Daphne knew what a trip back to Cumberland County could mean-- her beloved Aunt Jane was ill enough to ensure a share of heartache. But a chance meeting with an old friend sparked memories that could no longer be pushed away. A friend lost, back before the great war that nearly tore the Union asunder- Daphne must face the truth.

Join Daphne in her search for answers, an atypical story spanning several decades before and after the Civil War in the heart of the American midwest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Dedman
• Release date: Sep 4, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476130088

James Dedman

James C. Dedman lives in a rural community in the Midwest, forgotten by the modern world, presiding over an empire of various barnyard critters. An avid Civil War Reenactor and Historian, he enjoys researching genealogy, visiting historical locales, and raising chickens. An author of over 20 novels, he has also directed several independent films, a documentary and even a few plays. A Woman of Consequence marks his ebook debut, with more to follow. A practicing attorney at-law in order to fund his research, in his off time he gathers material for his books by making frequent trips to the West. He is the proud father of three girls, all of whom can sit a horse and fire a gun. He must always defer to his wife of over thirty years, however, as she is the one who feeds his horse.

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A Woman Of Consequence

By James C. Dedman

Edited By : Daryl Debunhurst

Copyright 2012 James Dedman

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people living or dead (Except historical figures) is purely coincidental)

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Old World

Chapter 2: The Wedding

Chapter 3: Past Perfect

Chapter 4: Paradise Township’s Lotus Eaters

Chapter 5: Crossing the Bar

Chapter 6: Temperance and Temptation

Chapter 7: Higher Learning

Chapter 8: The Cumberland Academy

Chapter 9: Small Comforts

Chapter 10: Revival Fires

Chapter 11: Family Gathering

Chapter 12: Graduation

Chapter 13: The Funeral

Chapter 14: The Class Picnic

Chapter 15: The Fourth of July in Cumberland County

Chapter 16: Another Fourth of July in Cumberland County

Chapter 17: The Ghost of Alnette Curtis Powers

Chapter 18: Another World

Chapter 19: Another Chance

Chapter 20: Another Wedding

Chapter 21: The Secret of Cumberland County

Chapter 22: New Year’s Eve Ball

Chapter 23: The Secret of Alnette

Chapter 24: The Greek Temple

Chapter 25: The Happy Ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

THE OLD WORLD

July 1, 1893

"If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. . . . The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient - at others, so bewildered and so weak - and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are to be sure a miracle every way - but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting, do seem peculiarly past finding out."

Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

The great steam train began to slow its powerful motion as it entered the modest whistle-stop of Canaan, Indiana. It was just one of many small stops along its route-- a drab little station surrounded only by a few worn buildings and just as worn-looking people. Nonetheless, when the conductor declared their arrival loudly to all the travelers one lady in particular sat up in her seat and looked out the side window at once. Her face reflected her puzzlement-- arrival in the small station meant that at long last she had returned to Cumberland County, but her view out the soot-stained window revealed nothing in the station she could recall from the past; no face that was even the least bit familiar.

Once, I ruled this world, she observed in a small voice just above a whisper. When I was your age, Julia, she spoke louder now, I made it a point to organize the life here.

Now you are content to command wherever you are, mother, a young miss at her side, just under twenty, replied with a warm, teasing smile. The blood relationship between the two was obvious-- each lady had sharp blue-green eyes and golden blonde hair, skillfully arranged atop their heads with a fashionable hat crowning their perfection.

They watched as some travelers departed at the Canaan stop and new boarders took their places in the coach. Julia sighed softly.

Will it stop in every small town, mother?

Very probably, Julia.

Within minutes the train was headed northeast for the next stop and the destination of the two ladies: right in the heart of Cumberland County, Indiana. The older woman continued looking out the window on the right side of the train.

Julia, across the road there is the Mahanoy River. We will cross it just before we enter Centerville.

Is it a very large river, mother?

No, dear, it is a very Mahanoy River, the elder beauty winked. You have only moments to await its brown splendor.

It is very hot in Indiana this time of year, is it not? Julia noted grimly.

Humid, dear. Life on the dry plains has its benefits. The railroad coach was very warm, even with the windows open. Soot from the coal-burning engine was wafting back through the windows adding to the general discomfort of travel on the train. Neither lady was ready to surrender to the despair of such journeys, as some of their gender did, but each of them wished fervently for a bath at their earliest opportunity.

Centerville, next! Centerville, NEXT! the conductor called, moving up and down the isles again.

Already the engine was slowing down, making a wide sweep to the east after crossing the wagon road at Three Mile Junction. The grade went downhill as they came to the Mahanoy River and quickly passed over its murky waters spanned by a great wooden trestle; then the railroad went up a rise to arrive at the depot in Centerville with a blast of steam. After what seemed like an eternity, the train came to a halt and both ladies collected their gripsacks from the luggage rack overhead. Of one accord, they walked to the exit where the porter was ready to assist them off the train.

Daphne!

The older woman looked up in surprise-- the voice had aged, but its owner was unmistakable.

Ronnie! Ronnie Fairchild! she called warmly to the gentleman waiting on the platform for them. How nice of you to remember me.

A distinguished man in his early fifties smiled as he helped her with her gripsack and off of the train. He had gray-blonde hair and a matching moustache, deep blue eyes, and seemed rather shy for one his age.

I am here to take you to your aunt’s house, he announced, a bit nervously.

Mr. Fairchild, this is my youngest daughter, Julia, Daphne began the introductions, gently overlooking his anxiety. Julia, this is a dear friend of my misspent youth, Mr. Ronald S. Fairchild.

Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fairchild, Julia did a slight dip and bow of her head, before offering her hand.

And I you, Miss, he replied. Your daughter is as ladylike and gentile as you, Daphne. Most of the youth of today do not know manners, but I am pleased your Julia does."

Thank you, Ronald, or should I call you ‘Sean?’ Daphne teased with a warm smile.

It is music to my old ears to hear you speak my name as it was spoken so very, very, long ago. You do wonders for me, Daphne. And you remain as fair as ever—I could almost believe myself transported to those times. The years have been kind to you, very kind, he said admiringly.

Why thank you, Daphne demurred with a slight nod of her head as they moved away from the train. I imagine you still send the hearts of your young female students fluttering yourself. Julia, in addition to a law practice, Professor Fairchild teaches at my old college.

Past tense, Fairchild corrected. Since Western Indiana State College was built in Junction City, the old Cumberland Academy has closed its hallowed halls forever. The County is about to take over the old building for an orphanage.

How sad, Daphne’s brow furrowed in disappointment. I do not remember hearing about it at all, although I suppose my aunt must have reported it in one of her letters.

I have brought my wagon for your trunks, Fairchild escorted them to his small rig as the station porter began loading their baggage at Daphne’s direction. Doctor Alden asked me to come over and pick you up.

How is my aunt? Daphne asked.

She lingers on, he replied sadly. Doctor Alden thinks she is waiting for you.

She probably is, Daphne agreed and tipped the porter with silver coins before Mr. Fairchild could fumble some cash out of his pockets.

As the train left the station ahead of them with a cloud of steam, the little group moved slowly through the small Indiana town towards the large mansion of Daphne’s aunt. It was a grand building in the old style, all in white with lovely rosebushes flanking the corners and ivy climbing the front. While it was not ostentatious, this was clearly a house of quality and wealth well spent, and Daphne was unexpectedly struck by a wave of nostalgia as she remembered each well-loved feature of her childhood home. Every step seemed to hold a story, every door a passageway to a memory. She walked through the threshold in a daze, fancying that this was how it would feel if one could but brush aside the years like a curtain and reenter one's own past.

Mr. Fairchild appeared slightly stricken as well, but his gaze was further afield-- he stood for just a moment looking sadly at the other large house next door before collecting himself and carrying the trunks inside.

The ladies went up the large staircase at once and Daphne could still hear Ronald clamoring about the parlor as she joined her ailing relative, attended only by an aged nurse. The room was hot and stuffy with a smell of illness in it that even the open windows could not dispel.

Julia, make my excuses to Mr. Fairchild and thank him, Daphne dismissed her daughter, Ruth?

Yes, Miss? the nurse replied.

Help Julia to our rooms, Daphne took a seat near the bed, I will sit with my aunt.

Yes, Miss, the nurse followed Julia out of the room.

Daphne was barely settled when her aunt stirred.

Daphne? Daphne? Is that you? the old woman in the bed asked without opening her eyes.

Yes, Aunt Jane, I am here at last, Daphne replied, fighting back the tears in her eyes.

Then I can die peacefully among my kin, the old lady sighed happily, a smile spreading across her aged face.

Julia is with me, downstairs.

She is? the old lady opened one eye. Well, in the cool of the evening perhaps we can talk one last time before I cross over the Jordan River. I can see the other side, Daphne. Oh, I can see the other side, she went on with a strange delight in her tired old voice. When my eyes are closed I can see Beulah Land waiting for me, just across the river. Oh, it is so beautiful, Daphne, so very beautiful.

Tears welled up in Daphne’s eyes again. What do you see, Aunt?

Jesus is there, dear, her voice was quiet and confident. Just across the river, waiting for me. And so many others . . .

Family?

Oh my, yes! she declared. I have had visits all week from them. And angels! Oh, the most lovely angels have sat with me until you could be here.

I came as quickly as I could,

Oh, I know that, honey, the old woman agreed. I have been so blessed, you know. I lived with an angel for some time.

Who?

Why, you, Daphne! the old woman smiled and relaxed. You are so like the angels. I always thought it, but did not know for sure until I met them in person.

I have not always acted like an angel, Daphne corrected, coloring slightly.

Oh, in your youth, there were mistakes, of course, the old lady excused. But most of your life you have been a ministering angel among us. You must know that.

I wanted that, Daphne admitted. But if there was a guiding hand to my life, it is you. What do the angels look like, Aunt Jane? Do they have wings?

Not mine, Aunt Jane answered her voice beginning to fade. They have radiant faces, like you. I am tired. We have a little more time to talk in the cool of the evening. Then I will cross over. Daphne couldn’t suppress a quiet gasp, but the old lady, unnoticing, closed her eyes and was asleep.

Daphne sat at the bedside until the nurse returned then she went to Julia’s room where her daughter was unpacking one of the trunks.

How is she? Julia inquired at once.

Tired. We will talk to her in the evening, Daphne informed her. She is glad we are here.

Mr. Fairchild was very cordial and said to wish you well when he left. He is very handsome. I wonder, was he one of your beaus back then? Julia asked with a smile.

No, Julia, Daphne answered. He was much too self-centered to impress me. Of course, he was in my coterie of close friends, dear. But in those days he was madly in love with my best friend, Alnette.

Will we meet her? Julia asked very hopefully.

No, dear, Daphne replied. Alnette crossed the Jordan River over a quarter of a century ago. But her husband may be back for the 4th of July. He is the senior Senator from Indiana.

How does he vote? Julia asked with suspicion.

His votes have been back on forth on the military appropriations, I am sad to say. Perhaps I may take him to task on that matter. There was a time I had great influence with him. Now I hear, or that is, they say, he has ambitions to become President.

Then your friend Alnette might have been the first lady? Julia romanticized.

I suppose so,

Has he remarried? Julia wondered.

I do not think so.

Mr. Fairchild?

I understand he married a very young lady some time ago. One of his students, I believe.

But not Alnette?

He was in love with her, but he did not marry her, Daphne said briskly. Now we have already said much more about Mr. Fairchild than needed to be said.

But I am interested in your past, mother, Julia pouted.

As well you should be, Daphne agreed. My past, not his.

With that thought she left her daughter and went to her old room where her own trunk had been deposited. The familiar room was clean, but just as she had she left it-- neat and orderly with all the essentials a young woman could want. In the closet were still some of her old clothes, which were too small for her now and, of course, entirely out of style by thirty years. On the shelves were all of her dolls, arranged properly by their families. Next to her bed was a fine old desk, the blotter of which appeared to have been freshly changed in anticipation of her arrival. In the drawers there still remained the letter writing essentials-- although what was so essential in her correspondences of years past she could scarcely recall. Bemused, she flipped idly through various bits of stationary and writing implements until her hand, almost of its own accord, fell to a shallow drawer and pulled it open.

Inside, laying as unchanged as the rest of the room, was a small, leather-bound journal. Her fingers played across its smooth surface and she lifted it out, amazed at how light it felt. Back in 1849, when she was nine years old, it had seemed a mystical tome of great weight and importance, giving her thoughts and observations the kind of gravitas befitting a young lady of her stature. Growing up, she had made a number of notations and updated the old Journal on a fairly regular basis as her visits east would allow. But on such visits back to visit her aunt, the entries had been only brief summaries. She had never thought to take the Journal with her out of Cumberland County and out of this room. It belonged in this drawer, in this desk, in this house, in this town, in this county, in this state, in this country, on this planet and so on. That was the order of things and Daphne dearly loved order in the universe. With a small shake of her head, she put the Journal away for the moment and went down the stairs to see the cook.

Miss Daphne, the cook smiled warmly. It’s so good to see you again.

Mrs. Green, Daphne returned the greeting.

I tell you, Miss Daphne, your being here will make a world of difference to our Miss Jane. You will see!

The doctor said she was going to die, Daphne said simply. Aunt Jane thinks so as well.

Doctors, Mrs. Green sniffed. Now that you are here, she will rally!

We can only pray, Daphne reflected, hoping to end the conversation. Mrs. Green was a woman of strong opinions and Daphne had no desire to debate her on any point. Dinner?

Will be at seven, if convenient, Mrs. Green smiled. You rest yourself until then.

I will try, she promised.

Daphne once again climbed the stairs, but this time turned into what she would always think of as Cloe's bedroom. The room was of a paler shade-- more creams and grays-- but was comforting and eased her spirit just to see it. Julia had clearly made herself at home here, her trunk already in place and her gripsack neatly tucked away in the closet. The girl had even arranged herself on the bed in an artistic fashion and was already asleep. Daphne smiled-- doubtless she had inadvertently taught her daughter to do that over the years and Julia had been a good pupil.

Quietly, Daphne returned to