Camellia (24 page)

“No, silly.” Jasmine giggled. “Uncle Phillip hires workers, some black, some white. Everyone who has not gone to fight in the war needs work. Everything has gotten very dear because of the blockade.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me what was going on?” Camellia thought of the letters she had received. Not a hint of any troubles had been apparent. Feeling chastised and a little miffed, she dressed in silence.

Jasmine continued chattering, however, apparently unaware of her sister’s emotions.

As they trod downstairs, Camellia trailed her hand along the rail of the stairwell, noticing it lacked its usual glossy sheen. Would she be reduced to dusting the woodwork and polishing the silver?

A vision formed in her imagination. She wore an apron and carried a dustpan in one hand and a broom in the other as she welcomed guests to Les Fleurs. What kind of suitor could she hope to attract in such a situation? Maybe Aunt Dahlia could give her some advice.

Feeling a tiny bit better, Camellia took a deep breath, threw back her shoulders, and followed her sister into the front parlor. Whatever the future held, she would face it with the aplomb and gentility she had learned at La Belle Demoiselle.

Camellia set the pitcher of lemonade on the tray and picked it up with both hands.

“You sure you can handle that by yourself?” Tamar watched her with a doubtful expression on her face.

“Don’t worry. I made the lemonade, didn’t I?” Proud of her accomplishment, Camellia walked out of the kitchen and around the side of the house to take the refreshment to Aunt Dahlia and Jane on the front porch. She kept one eye on the grass and the other on the slices of lemon threatening to slosh over the top of the pitcher. Arriving without mishap, she set the laden tray onto the table between the rockers.

Aunt Dahlia was crocheting a doily while Jane was working on the sampler she’d managed to bring with her from New Orleans two days earlier.

“There you are.” Aunt Dahlia pulled on the spindle of white thread and continued looping it. “I was about to come in search of you.”

Camellia shook her head, and several ringlets came loose. She swept them away from her face with an impatient hand. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Not at all.” Jane put her sampler in her lap and smiled. “Your timing is impeccable as always.”

The sound of an approaching horse stopped Camellia’s answer as she turned to see who was coming up the drive. Gray fronds of Spanish moss obscured the rider as he rode between the oak trees that lined both sides of the path, but she could tell he was a soldier from the gray uniform he wore. She raised a hand to shade her eyes.

Jane gasped. “It’s Thad.” Her needlework hit the floor as she jumped from the rocker and raced down the steps just as Thad reached the house.

He dismounted and held out his arms, folding them around his sister and dropping a kiss on her head.

“Well.” Disapproval filled the single syllable from Aunt Dahlia.

“Captain Watkins is Jane’s brother,” Camellia explained as she smiled on the two of them.

“Oh. I should have noticed the resemblance right away.”

Camellia nodded and descended the steps with less exuberance than her friend had showed. But she didn’t try to hide her pleasure.

The captain kept one arm around his sister but bowed to her. “I’m happy to see you and my sister are safe.”

“I could say the same about you. When we left New Orleans, we didn’t know if you would be taken prisoner by the Yankees.”

“Were you worried about me, Miss Anderson?”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Of course she was. We all were. I hated leaving you, but when Camellia’s family asked me to accompany them, I thought it best to go.”

He squeezed his sister once more before letting go of her. “Thank you for making sure she is safe.”

Camellia’s cheeks warmed under his approving gaze. “L–Let me introduce you to my aunt.”

Captain Watkins tucked his cap under one arm and followed the two of them to the front porch.

Camellia performed the introductions and served lemonade as Jane peppered him with questions.

Aunt Dahlia’s fingers once again twisted her thread as her rocker moved back and forth. “I still cannot believe the Yankees have taken New Orleans.”

“It should not have happened.” The captain shook his head, a mixture of sadness and anger pulling at his features. “But now we must concentrate on taking it back into the Confederacy and regaining our base of operations there.”

Hope blossomed in Camellia. “I knew all was not lost.”

“No, indeed.” He sipped from his glass. “Our first step will be to retake Forts Jackson and St. Phillips to the south. Once we cut off the support of the ships that have their guns trained on the city, they will realize their mistake and withdraw.”

“Is that the mission that brings you to us, Captain?” Aunt Dahlia stopped her handwork for a moment while she waited for his answer.

Thad looked down at his glass of lemonade. “I really can’t talk about my mission. I hope you understand.”

“Of course we do.” Jane reached for his hand.

Aunt Dahlia frowned. “Do you think we cannot hold our tongues?”

It was time to turn the conversation in a different direction. Camellia leaned forward. “Thank you so much for sending Jonah Thornton to collect us after Mrs. Dabbs was arrested.”

One of Thad’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

Camellia should have known. Jonah had lied even about that. He had not one truthful bone in his whole traitorous body. Her mouth tightened. “I thought Jonah said you had sent him a note. I must have misunderstood.”

His gaze remained on her a few moments.

During that time, the temptation to blurt out the truth was strong. But she could not do it. What would happen to Mr. and Mrs. Thornton once New Orleans was retaken by the Confederates? Would they pay the price for their son’s stupidity? She couldn’t afford the luxury of confessing what she knew to Thad. He would be honor bound to pass the information along to his superiors. No, this was one secret she had to keep.

“You will not believe how harrowing our trip to Natchez was.” Jane’s statement ended the uncomfortable moment. She began to describe the way she and Camellia had boarded the
Water Lily
and the trip through the darkness.

The captain listened intently, making exclamations at the right points and sitting back when she finished. “I can only conclude that God was on your side.”

“My papa is a very religious man,” Camellia offered. “Perhaps his prayers were heard.”

“He is a very sweet man, too.” Jane smiled in her direction. “But Camellia’s whole family is wonderful. They’ve taken me in without complaint.”

“I’m glad for that, Sister, but I can get you a berth on the boat that will take me north. I know you’re enjoying your visit to this beautiful home, but our parents must be worried about your welfare.”

Camellia sent a desperate look toward her friend. Without Jane around, what would she do with her time?

Before she could express her concern, the other women in her family came outside, and Captain Watkins stood. She cringed at Lily’s brown skin, but at least Grandmother and Jasmine looked presentable. Performing the introductions, Camellia watched the captain’s reactions, pleased when he seemed so accepting, even of Lily’s life on a steamboat.

If this was a test, he had passed it with flying colors. Aunt Dahlia smiled at her, her meaning clear. Captain Watkins was an excellent candidate for a husband.

Looking back at Thad, she wondered. Only a few short weeks ago she would have agreed. He was handsome, polite, wealthy—all the things a girl should want in a husband. Of course he was the perfect mate. A Confederate soldier for goodness’ sake. He was exactly the man she’d always dreamed of marrying. Wasn’t he?

T
his riverboat was more spacious than the
Water Lily.
Camellia’s fingers straightened the sterling knife on the right side of her plate. It caught the light of the chandelier above their table, almost seeming to throw off sparks as it moved. The linen cloth covering the table was spotless, the crystal sparkled, and the china was decorated with a delicate floral design. Aboard the
Kosciusko
she could almost forget the war that had wrought such change in her life.

A white-gloved hand filled her goblet with water and then withdrew. Another hand, this one female, removed her napkin from the table, shook it, and placed it on Camellia’s lap. She could grow used to such deference. It was much better than having to clean dirty dishes as she’d once done aboard her sister’s boat.

“I’m honored your family entrusted me with your care.” Thad’s voice brought her out of the past.

Camellia smiled at him. “I’m honored to be escorted by a true hero of the Confederacy.”

“I don’t know about all that.” He looked troubled, as though uncertain of himself. Or was he concerned for the future?

The desire to ease his concerns filled her. Was this what it would feel like to be married? Being a helpmeet to such an honorable man would be a wonderful way to spend her life.

His hand rested on the table next to the assortment of forks on the left side of his plate.

Camellia reached to pick up her goblet and let her hand brush against his. The contact brought a sense of daring … but no romantic thrill. Thad’s eyebrows climbed up toward his hairline, and a blush heated her cheeks. She had been too forward.

“I haven’t written to our parents.” Jane’s voice came from Thad’s far side. “They’re going to be surprised when we show up on their doorstep.”

Thad turned away from her to answer his sister’s comment.

Camellia took a deep breath and brought her goblet to her lips. As she sipped the cool water, she wondered if her misstep would cause him to reconsider his pursuit. The platters of food on the laden table lost their appeal. What if Thad considered her too forward?

A young man on her left cleared his throat and asked her to pass the saltcellar. Camellia complied. He looked about her age, his cheeks still showing the roundness of youth. His auburn hair gleamed richly in the glow from the chandelier. He looked like a younger, more innocent version of Jonah Thornton, bringing a smile to her face. He blushed and shook a copious amount of salt on his serving of roast duck. The incident reminded her of the usual effect her attention had on members of the opposite sex. If she set her mind to it, she could certainly win her way back into Thad’s affections.

“Where are you going?” The young man’s voice cracked in the middle of his query.

“I’m visiting friends in Vicksburg.”

He looked taken aback by her answer. “This is a perilous time to be making social visits.”

Camellia dabbed her mouth with her napkin as she considered him, watching as his cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “Our escort will see that we arrive safely at our destination.”

“Of course.” The young man took a bite of his dinner. An expression of shock widened his eyes.

Camellia watched as his Adam’s apple worked up and down and the corners of his mouth turned down. She hid her smile and took pity on him. Looking behind her at the line of white-coated servers, she signaled to one and asked for a fresh plate.

He threw her a thankful glance and started his dinner afresh, paying much closer attention to the amount of salt he applied to his food.

When dinner was over, Jane and Camellia joined the other ladies in their lounge.

“How much longer will our trip be?” Jane settled in one of the upholstered chairs.

Camellia shrugged as she sat next to her. “It depends on how many stops the captain makes, but we should arrive before dark.”

“I hope so.” A short, older lady sniffed. “All of our lives are in danger from those marauding Yankees, especially after dark.”

“My brother, an officer, is aboard.” Jane crossed her legs at the ankles. “He’ll make sure no one gets aboard without proper papers.”

“I’m scared, Ma.” A young girl with brown hair the color of Mississippi mud buried her face in her mother’s lap. “I don’t want them Yankees to get me.”

A black woman in a dark dress and starched apron entered the room with a laden tea tray balanced in her hands.

Camellia waited for her to put the tray on the low table in the middle of the room and then depart before answering. “You don’t have to worry about Yankees. Did you see all the men in their handsome uniforms at dinner? They’ll protect us.”

“That’s right.” Her mother stroked her daughter’s hair. “And you remember what your pa said about them old Yankees. It’ll take a dozen of them to fight just one of our soldiers. If they see how many we have on board with us, they’ll run away and hide.”

Camellia thought of Jonah. He was the only Yankee she knew. But was a Yankee sympathizer the same thing as a Yankee soldier? She thought of his strength of character and his physical prowess. If Jonah was typical of the caliber of man fighting for the North, they were in for a desperate fight.

Even if he wasn’t, the rebel forces had run when the Yankees showed up with one little boat at the dock in New Orleans. The soldiers at Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philip had also surrendered without a fight. They had not even tried to stop the Yankee navy from steaming up the river to take the city.