The Lady and the Officer Page 9

  He nodded with the deference she showed Mrs. Duncan. “You graciously intervened on my behalf in Gettysburg. Had you not spoken to the surgeon in the field hospital, I certainly would have bled to death far from home. I am and will forevermore remain in your debt.” Gazing around the table, he lifted his glass in toast. Hastily Mr. and Mrs. Duncan raised their wine stems.

  “You knew Cousin Maddy in Pennsylvania?” asked Eugenia, wide eyed.

  “Indeed, Miss Eugenia.” Elliott didn’t take his eyes off the flummoxed Mrs. Howard. “She was working as a nurse and stopped at my bedside. Actually, I was lying on the hard ground, but I won’t insult the ladies with unnecessary details. After Mrs. Howard convinced the good doctor my wound wasn’t mortal as originally assumed, I was moved to the surgery. I had been left outdoors with the other… hopeless cases.”

  “My word, what a fortuitous coincidence,” Mr. Duncan said before taking a hearty swallow of his drink.

  “It was the hand of God.” Mrs. Duncan took a small sip, eyeing her niece.

  “Mrs. Howard offered me a ladle of water, which tasted sweeter than wine or brandy, and noticed that my wound had stopped hemorrhaging. Upon her intervention on my behalf, the doctor extracted a bullet and sewed me up without fanfare, perhaps still expecting me to die.”

  Madeline drained her water glass. “Now I remember you, sir,” she said with a warm smile. “It is a joy to see that you recovered.”

  The Duncans gaped from one to the other, bewildered, until Mr. Duncan finally spoke. “You fooled them all, Haywood, and here you are—a grand turn of events! Micah, I believe we are ready to eat.”

  Mrs. Howard leaned back in her chair as platters were presented at table. “Lest you give my aunt and uncle a false impression of my heroism, sir, I should admit that you were the only soldier I… saved. For me, the things I experienced at that field hospital were unbearable, and I never returned. I volunteered only that one day.”

  “Be that as it may, I was the fortunate recipient of your foray into nursing. Your face will remain etched in my memory always.”

  “Please don’t be so dramatic regarding my involvement, sir. God decreed your time wasn’t done.” Mrs. Howard took a hearty scoop of mashed potatoes. “Have you recovered full health and vitality?”

  He watched her mannerisms and gestures, intrigued by her every movement. “Healthy with all four limbs accounted for, even though one does not function.” He touched the sleeve of his useless arm.

  Mrs. Howard blanched and averted her gaze. “I hadn’t noticed, sir. Excuse my boldness. Your return to the Confederacy is extraordinary in itself, Colonel Haywood. You might have ended up in a federal prison.”

  “That’s a long story better saved for another day. I shall share it on a different occasion.” Elliott pivoted toward his hostess, suddenly aware Mrs. Duncan was studying him curiously. “This ham tastes delicious, madam. The honey glaze reminds me of home.” He thumped his chest with a clenched fist.

  Mrs. Duncan smiled and nodded to the butler. Micah made a second trip around the table with the ham platter. “Our butcher is the best in town, Colonel.”

  “I’m surprised to find you in Richmond, Colonel,” asked Mrs. Howard. “Has your arm prevented your return to the army?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I’m in command of the Richmond home guard. My responsibility is to keep the city secure at all costs. It’s my honor to protect men such as your uncle, who offer immeasurable service to the Cause.” Elliott nodded at his host.

  “Our invalid soldiers have stepped into valuable roles in the war department,” Mr. Duncan said, taking another slice of ham from the platter.

  “How about you, Mrs. Howard?” asked Elliott. “What made you abandon your hometown and take up residence in our fair city?”

  She set down her fork. “I never would have left, sir, but my town was almost destroyed by the battle—our church, the school, my home. With my brood mares stolen, I had no choice but to throw myself on the mercy of my aunt and uncle. They have graciously taken me in.” She lifted her chin with sorrowful dignity.

  Elliott almost choked on his food. “Forgive me, madam. I had no knowledge of your loss.”

  “No harm done, Colonel, but might I trouble you for a slice of ham? I prefer not to make poor Micah walk around the table a third time.” Mrs. Howard held out her plate to him.

  His discomfort vanished with one flash of her magnificent smile. “It would be my pleasure.” He speared the juiciest slice on the platter for her.

  SEPTEMBER 1863

  Madeline awoke from her afternoon nap to a face looming above her, barely a foot away. “Goodness, Genie! You startled me.” She straightened to an upright position in the chaise.

  “Is my face that frightening?” Her cousin feigned a childlike pout.

  “Your face is fine, but why are you watching me sleep?”

  Eugenia hurried toward the bed where three gowns had been laid out. “Mama said I shouldn’t wake you, but I feared you would sleep until tomorrow morning.”

  Madeline scrubbed her face with both hands. “This Virginia humidity makes me drowsy in the afternoon. Back home, summer would be waning by now.”

  “No more tedious talk of the weather, cousin. Although I daresay, it’s your favorite topic. Help me select my gown for the festivities tonight.” One by one, Eugenia held up a soft blue, pale peach, and sunny yellow dress beneath her chin.

  “All are lovely, but the peach makes your eyes sparkle and complements your blond hair.” Madeline poured a glass of cool water to regain her senses. “Why are you deciding between ball gowns?” she asked after her first hearty swallow. “I thought tonight was to be a simple dinner for Uncle John’s friends.”

  Eugenia rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing simple about dinner for thirty at seven o’clock. This might be the closest we come to a social occasion for the entire month. I begged Mama to let me wear something special, and she finally agreed.” The girl waltzed around Madeline’s room with the peach dress for a partner. “I’m surprised these gowns haven’t deteriorated from neglect.”

  Madeline pressed a wet cloth to her neck. “Should you wish to pursue a career, I strongly recommend the theater.”

  Eugenia looked scandalized. “A lady thespian? Mama would faint and then lock me away in the attic.”

  “There won’t be dancing at a Thursday dinner party, will there?” Madeline had her own reasons to be scandalized. “The conventions of Virginia society never cease to confound me.”

  “Of course not, but there will be at least a dozen officers in their fancy uniforms at the table.” Eugenia opened her fan with a flutter. “Colonel Haywood and General Rhodes, Major Penrod and Major Lewis—so many I can’t keep them all straight.”

  “Will there will be other females besides those of this household?”

  Eugenia’s initial response was a giggle. “Yes. Mama invited a few ladies from her auxiliary and their daughters. She also invited President and Mrs. Davis, but they sent their regrets. Varina is suffering one of her headaches.” Her mouth formed a perfect O. “Don’t tell Mama I used Mrs. Davis’s given name. She would scold me.”

  “I promise I won’t. You mentioned Colonel Haywood’s name first in your list, prior even to a general. Are you sweet on him? I must say he’s a handsome man.”

  Eugenia stopped preening in front of the mirror. “Heavens, no. He’s so old. I heard he’s practically forty. At that rate he’ll catch up to Papa. Plus there’s the matter of his poor crippled arm. How dreadful. Since you find him handsome, perhaps you should plan to catch his attention. Now, you must ring for the maid for your bath and get ready. Mama borrowed staff from the neighbors to ensure this party will be perfect.” She gathered all three gowns in her arms and headed for the door.

  Madeline was glad to be alone with her thoughts. Catch the Colonel’s attention? How could she explain to an eighteen-year-old that she was in love with someone else? A Union general, no less. In the short time she’d been with
the Duncans, they seemed to have forgotten her Yankee birthright. It was as though they expected her to adopt their drawl and the stars-and-bars flag. But she hadn’t forgotten. Each night she prayed for an end to the conflict… an end with a resounding Union victory. How could she make polite conversation with these men who were the sworn enemies of her beloved?

  All men are equal in God’s eyes. He loves not one over another. One of her mother’s favorite expressions, no doubt a paraphrase from Scripture, would keep her polite and respectful, behaving with grace as long as she lived under the Duncans’ roof.

  “Madeline, my dear. The guests have grown restless, waiting for the honor of your presence.” Her uncle bowed when she reached the bottom of the stairs, as did his three companions.

  “But the other ladies have only just arrived, Uncle. We felt you gentlemen required time to discuss important matters.” Opening her fan, Madeline used it to cover her bosom. The idea of exposing so much flesh at a Thursday night supper was altogether uncomfortable, even though Aunt Clarisa insisted her dress was modest by their standards.

  “We talk important matters all day. We yearn for witty banter,” Uncle John replied, winking at her.

  “Mrs. Howard, a pleasure to see you again.” Colonel Haywood took her hand and kissed her gloved fingers. “May I present my comrades in the home guard?” One by one, each man smiled and bowed when introduced.

  “How do you do, gentlemen?” said Madeline, choking back a chuckle. One of the officers had a mustache so outrageously large, he reminded her of a walrus from a childhood storybook.

  “Ah, there you are, Major Penrod.” Eugenia slipped her hand into the crook of the man’s elbow as she joined the group. “I do hope you’re being kind to my cousin. Madeline isn’t from here and doesn’t know a soul in town other than us, her loving family.” She batted her thick eyelashes at the tall, gangly soldier.

  At least this man is young and not an ancient forty, despite his huge mustache, thought Madeline.

  “That’s not altogether true, Miss Duncan.” Colonel Haywood spoke softly so that only those nearby could hear. “Remember that I met this saving angel in that forsaken town that shall remain unnamed.” He lifted his glass of champagne in salute.

  “Is that true, Mrs. Howard? You worked in a hospital up north?” asked Major Lewis.

  “My career lasted one short day. I discovered the stomach doesn’t always follow where a compassionate heart may lead. I have but one feather in my nurse’s cap.” She lifted her glass of punch to return the toast.

  The colonel’s grin filled his entire aristocratic face.

  But it was Major Lewis who responded. “My stomach leads me straight to supper. I just heard the butler’s summons. Shall we, Mrs. Howard?” He extended his arm to her.

  Madeline glanced at her uncle, who looked pleased, and then to Colonel Haywood, who did not. “Thank you, sir. I don’t wish to delay events for a second time this evening.”

  She accompanied Lewis into the candlelit dining room. The table, extended with several leaves, stretched onto the terrace through the open French doors. Illuminated by dozens of tapers and a gas chandelier turned low, the effect was elegant beyond compare.

  The number of male guests outnumbered females two-to-one, yet Aunt Clarisa had orchestrated the seating arrangements with the expedience of a seasoned hostess. “Madeline, I would like you there in between Colonel Haywood and Major Lewis.” Aunt Clarisa tapped a chair with her fan. “Eugenia, you are here, in between Major Penrod and our distinguished guest, General Rhodes.” She guided the sixtyish officer to his intended seat.

  If Genie thinks forty is ancient, I pity the attention the elderly general will receive from his supper companion. Madeline grinned at her inner musings.

  “Does your smile indicate pleasure with the table arrangement, Mrs. Howard?” Colonel Haywood spoke softly next to her ear. “I pray it does.”

  Madeline looked more than a little surprised. “Forgive me, but I’m unaccustomed to gentlemen being so direct with their questions.”

  Using his right hand, he shifted his left arm to a more comfortable position. “If I learned anything during the last two years, it is that life is brief. We all should be forthright and stand in good stead with our Maker, because no one knows the number of his days.” The colonel took a sip of wine. “I see no wineglass at your place setting. Is that an oversight I could remedy?”

  “No, sir. The staff is aware that I don’t imbibe alcohol. However, I impose no judgment on those who do.” She nodded politely. “My small Protestant sect frowned on it.”

  Colonel Haywood cocked his head to one side. “I believe the Duncans are Roman Catholics, are they not?” he whispered. “May I have the honor of escorting you to St. Paul’s Episcopal on Sunday? The Haywoods have held a pew there since it opened.”

  Madeline tasted her soup while pondering the question.

  “It’s merely to church and straight home, Mrs. Howard. You have my word as a gentleman. Have no fear.” His blue eyes twinkled.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Colonel. If I decide that the church is too far away to walk to, I shall send word to you. In the meantime, your soup grows cold.”

  For the next two hours, they dined on fresh oysters, crisp salad, roast beef with fresh peas, and buttery croissants. Fortuitously, General Rhodes entertained the table for the majority of time with tales of valor exhibited by his men. Madeline didn’t feel up to personal conversation with either Major Lewis or the colonel. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Her heart belonged to another man—mere miles but another world away.

  Contrary to custom, the women and men didn’t go in separate directions after dinner. The ladies sipped lemon tea, while gentlemen enjoyed brandy on the terrace. Neither sex seemed to want the evening to end. Madeline wandered over to where General Rhodes held court, surrounded by his staff officers and men of the home guard. They were so immersed in conversation that no one noticed her next to a potted palm.

  “We plan to turn Meade’s flank, driving him north from Prince William County once and for all,” General Rhodes said, blustering with an increasingly florid complexion. “We’ll get them on the run to Fairfax County and then, with the grace of God, back into Maryland. We need to take control of Bristow and the other stations along the Orange and Alexandria rail line. To sever this serpent in half, we must cut off the Yankees’ access to Washington.”

  “An interesting bit of information, don’t you think, Mrs. Howard?” Major Lewis suddenly appeared at her side, close enough for her to smell his hair pomade.

  Madeline was temporarily taken aback until she noticed that his deep drawl had vanished. In its place was the clipped accent of a New Englander. “I try not to involve myself in the politics of war,” she said, unsure how to process her realization.

  Major Lewis took her arm and drew her away from the conversation. “But are you not a Northerner—a lover of the Union—determined to see it fully restored?” He spoke in a soft whisper. “Or have your rich relatives already swayed your opinion?”

  Madeline’s spine stiffened. “I love my aunt and uncle truly, sir, but I was born and will die a Yankee. I gather by your altered accent that the same is true of you.”

  Major Lewis pulled on his mustache. “I am treading dangerously by admitting this, but yes, Mrs. Howard, my allegiance is not to Jefferson Davis and his dreams for a new South.”

  “You are a traitor?” Madeline touched the stripes on his sleeve with her fan.

  “Not to my God and country—to them I am true.” He stared down at her. For several moments they assessed one another like foxes eyeing the same rabbit. “What we’ve learned tonight will be of great use to General Meade and his army encamped west of Fredericksburg. But alas, my usefulness in Richmond is drawing to a close.” The major patted his leg. “My wound has healed. I’m about to be transferred from the home guard back to Longstreet’s corps at the front lines.”

  “You will fight against the Union?” Madeline didn
’t try to hide her shock.

  He released a wry laugh. “Of course not. I will cross the Potomac and head north long before anyone realizes I’m gone. But you will still be here, Mrs. Howard. Perhaps you could mull over your duty as an American. Good evening.” He bowed deeply and strode away.

  Madeline remained shivering in her embroidered slippers for several minutes on an unusually warm evening.

  EIGHT

  After the dinner party, Madeline spent plenty of time alone. She walked the manicured paths of the rose garden, stared out her bedroom window while presumed to be napping, and counted cracks in the plaster ceiling when sleep refused to come. But no matter how long she brooded, she couldn’t get Major Lewis’s startling revelation out of her mind. He was a spy for the Union Army, working right under President Davis’s nose. If the officers at the dinner party knew that, they would consider him a traitor and hang him.

  How did she feel about his duplicitous nature? Madeline believed that the states’ rights argument masked the South’s true intention to preserve slavery. But many men fighting for the Confederacy lived in homes that had never owned slaves. A child grew up adopting the customs and standards of a region as well as those of their family. Yet Madeline wasn’t sure she could act a role solely to obtain military information—secrets that could change a battle’s outcome or perhaps the course of the war.

  Because of his desire to preserve the Union, Major Lewis placed himself in great personal danger. Had the information they overheard at the party already been conveyed to the Union commanders? Had James received the dispatch? Was he already organizing his men to thwart General Lee’s best-laid plans? If so, would Lewis’s information bring a more expeditious end to the bloodshed? What would the end of the war bode for her and James?

  Madeline had begun to fixate on his given name like a schoolgirl suffering her first infatuation. Had her letters been able to cross battle lines? Nary a word from him found its way to Richmond. With a possible end to the conflict in sight, Madeline needed a letter to reach him—one that made her feelings clear.