Chapter 3 #2
train. But I was traveling with my aunt and uncle and they thought it was too far and too tiring, and we had everything we
needed in our carriage.”
“The Dominics’ private car was very comfortable,” Thomas said. “It was quite something, a railway carriage built by the Pullman
Company, fitted out as luxuriously as any suite in a fine hotel, and they’d brought their own chef and a maid. Mrs. Dominic
invited a few guests for dinner the first evening we were stranded, but I didn’t meet Caroline then.” He glanced over at her
and winked. “She was unwell and in her compartment.”
On the third night, it began to rain. To some it was a relief, a sign of warmer temperatures.
They hoped the snow would melt enough that they could set off on their way.
What it really meant, however, was that rain was soaking into the snow on the mountains above and making it heavier.
And in the early hours of the fourth day, a wet slab of snow half a mile wide began sliding down the slope, gaining momentum and scraping up everything in its path until it slammed into the trains.
“Luckily I was at the hotel,” Thomas said, “and luckily for Caroline, she wasn’t in her sleeping compartment. She had gotten
up for a glass of water.”
Caroline had been in the carriage’s dining room when the avalanche struck. The force of the slide slammed the carriage against
a tree and the car broke open at its center. She was thrown out into the snow and lay unconscious until rescuers from Wellington
arrived. Thomas and other hotel guests had joined the search for survivors.
“I found her lying on top of a piece paneling from the carriage,” Thomas said, “and it saved her life because she wasn’t buried
under snow. That and her fur coat.”
She shivered at the memory. The fur she had pulled on instead of a bathrobe to go out for a glass of water. The fur that had
kept her from freezing before rescuers arrived. She was chilled through but alive, and could only cling to Thomas, teeth chattering.
The Great Northern Railway’s bunkhouse in Wellington was turned into a temporary hospital, and it was days before snowplows
finally got through. A special hospital train arrived shortly after to take the injured to the nearest hospital, in Spokane.
“For the first while, Caroline didn’t even know her own name,” Thomas said. “She couldn’t remember anything of her past because
she’d hit her head. But we said to her, ‘We know you’re Caroline Vessey because of your fur coat.’ You see, the coat’s lining
had her name embroidered on it.”
At this point in the story, Caroline knew Thomas liked her to jump in. “He visited me every day at the hospital,” she said, “until one day I realized who he was. ‘I believe you’re the man who saved my life, sir. What is your name?’ I asked.”
“And I replied, ‘Thomas Stanton, at your service,’ and I meant it,” said Thomas. “I was ready to be at her service for the
rest of my life, if she would have me.”
“How romantic! What a wonderful story!” Mrs. Tennison said, clapping her hands. “And now here you are, starting a new life
in Shanghai.”
“Yes, a new life,” Caroline said. “If only my parents had lived long enough to meet Thomas. If only my aunt and uncle were
still alive and could come to visit. They often spoke of traveling to the Far East.”
“Oh, my dear”—Mrs. Tennison blinked—“I only meant that out of such tragedy, well, it’s a blessing the two of you found each
other . . .” Her voice trailed off, embarrassed.
Caroline nodded. “Of course. As you say, how fortunate to have a happy outcome out of such sorrow.”
Another woman jumped in, to smooth over this small faux pas. “Cherish your new life here, Mrs. Stanton,” she said. “We must
return to Chicago soon and I’m lamenting already. I must say I’ll miss our houseboys. We will never be so well looked after
again. We’ve been quite spoiled in Shanghai. You must make the most of your time here.”
“Oh, I will,” Caroline replied, completely sincere. “Sometimes it feels like a dream to be living here.”
She had been excited about Shanghai ever since Thomas first broached the idea to her.
They had taken a leisurely tour of Europe for their honeymoon, then spent several weeks traveling through California, where Thomas owned a number of properties, mostly silver mines.
She refused to visit New York or Boston.
She associated those cities with her past, a life of sad events and memories she would rather not relive.
Thomas and the lawyers had been very understanding, and they had finished the last of the legal paperwork from San Francisco.
Then he’d told her about Mason Burnett and his offer: the opportunity to be part owner, a major shareholder in a railway,
the mansion he would give Thomas, and a chance to experience Shanghai, the Paris of the East, where Westerners lived like
royalty.
She never hesitated. Caroline was glad they were going to live in Shanghai, a city where no one knew her, where they wouldn’t
whisper about Caroline Vessey. Poor creature, barely survived the Wellington railway disaster, you know, the one where ninety-six people died. In Shanghai she would simply be Caroline Stanton, wife of millionaire Thomas Stanton.