Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (32 page)

“Ah, but my dear, it’s your presence that makes
the food taste better and the company so much more enjoyable,” Wellington said,
still holding her hand.

Andrea smiled with her fingers locked in his
mushy grasp. “Oh la, suh. Now you are paying me a compliment and ah was only
stating the truth.”

Hunter stood
dumbfounded during the exchange. Even her accent was deceptive, sounding
musical in manner, soft and alluring in tone. Just like she had warned him,
every motion radiated the attitude and presence of the well-bred Southern lady.
Clearing his throat, he found his voice. “Gentlemen, may I have the pleasure of
introducing Miss Evans. Miss Andrea Evans.”

Andrea curtsied at the sound of her name and hid
the wince of pain the movement caused from all but Hunter. “It’s such a
pleasure to meet such honorable membahs of the Confederate ahmy. Please do be
seated, gentlemen.”

Hunter pulled out her chair, and took advantage
of the moment to lean forward and whisper in her ear a line from Hamlet. “The
devil hath the power to assume a pleasing shape.”

Andrea turned her head away with offended
majesty, her countenance revealing a moment of surprise, and then a hint of
anger, before returning to stone-faced indifference as she lowered herself into
her chair like a queen.

“Miss Evans, I don’t believe you’ve been
formally
introduced to my second–in-command, Captain Carter.”

Andrea glanced at Hunter at his choice of words,
then nodded demurely toward Carter. The officer did not bother to smile, but
took the time to nod in her direction. Hunter could tell by Carter’s expression
that he’d already made his assessment of the young beauty—that anyone who
mistook those brilliant green eyes and seductive smile for anything but a sharp
mind and quick wit was making a big mistake.

“And one of my scouts, Gus Dorsey.” 

Andrea smiled at the handsome young scout, and
the wink he gave her in return did not go unnoticed by Hunter. He wondered how
well the two had become acquainted during his convalescence, and then wondered
why he cared.

“And my aide, Johnny,” he continued. “And I
believe you’ve met Corporal Kroger and Private Tate.”

Hunter felt
like he was watching an actress on the stage as Andrea smiled and nodded at each
introduction. She exuded nothing but wisdom, grace, and charm tonight, yet this
was the same woman who possessed the added skill of being able to rattle
epitaphs with the ease and fluency of Vesuvius casting lava.

“How long might we have the privilege of your
company Colonel?”

“Only one night, I’m afraid.” Wellington leaned
forward across the table. “I’m on very important business for General Stuart. I
thought it advantageous to make Major Hunter’s acquaintance in the event we
find ourselves working together in the future.”

Hunter saw Andrea’s lips twitch with amusement,
but she successfully suppressed any outright laughter.

“So you and Major Hunter are old friends?”
Wellington asked. “I’ve not heard General Stuart speak of you.”

“I do not enjoy the honah or distinction. We
met—”

“She’s here to recover from an injury,” Hunter
interrupted. “A fall from a horse.”

“Well, might
you be related to an Olivia Evans of Virginia?” Wellington continued. “She
married a fellow, a horse breeder I believe, from South Carolina.”

Hunter
watched the smile vanish from Andrea’s flushed face as a haunted, hunted look
replaced it. “No, suh, I don’t believe ah’ve heard the name.” Her voice did not
waver, but she swallowed hard and stared intently at her plate.

“I see. Well, she’s dead now, but she had a
daughter about your age.”

“Is that so?” Hunter leaned forward.

“Yes,” Wellington continued between mouthfuls of
food. “However, she ran away at a young age. There was some sort of trouble
over escaped slaves, if my memory serves.”

Andrea had no response, but picked up her glass
and appeared to be forcing herself to drink slowly.

“Yes, though from what I understand, the slaves
were very much abused by Olivia’s husband.” Wellington barely paused before
launching into a new conversation. “So you are recovering from an accident on a
horse?”

Hunter saw Andrea sigh, relieved at the change
of course. “Silly of me, is it not?”

“Ain’t nothing to riding but keeping a horse
between yourself and the ground,” Carter mumbled under his breath.

“Ah’m still a
little fearful of the beasts, ah’m afraid,” Andrea said, shivering in such a
believable way, Hunter was almost convinced she was telling the truth.

The table fell silent for a moment, but then the
chatter began anew. Hunter saw Andrea pretending to listen with only remote
interest as Gus and Carter discussed a recent foray into enemy territory. Her
manner conveyed she did not understand the military topics discussed and that
she had no interest in learning more about them. Yet he knew she could probably
repeat the conversation verbatim if she was ever asked to do so.

“How was that now?” Wellington asked. “You
caught seventy prisoners without firing a shot?”

Hunter demanded with his eyes that Gus desist in
the telling of the story. Unfortunately for him, Gus was not looking his way.

“Well, it was pourin’ down rain and dark as
could be. Major Hunter went galloping into a Union outpost, yellin’ at the top
of his lungs for the men to mount up and follow him—he’d found Hunter’s hideout
in the pines.” Gus paused for a moment to take a bite of food. “Course, he
didn’t lie. We
were
in the pines.” He looked over at Andrea and winked.
“Waitin’ with open arms ya might say.”

Wellington looked from Hunter to Gus and back
again in utter amazement, then put his head back and laughed, his jowls
flapping together like two large pancakes.

The rest of the room also exploded in laughter,
all except Andrea, who stared into space, her gaze fixed and intent like she
was replaying the scene in her head. Hunter almost interpreted it as a
deferential gaze, one that appreciated the daring and boldness the feat
required, even when attributed to one of her most loathed enemies.

“I only wish
I’d have the same opportunity,” Wellington said, rising unsteadily to his feet
with wine glass in hand.
“I’d like to propose a toast to Majah Hunter
and all he’s done for the Confederate cause. Here’s to honah.”

Andrea’s hesitation at being forced to link her
host’s name with the word did not go unnoticed. “Do you have something against
honah, my dear?” Wellington asked.

“Not at all, suh,” she said with a forced smile.
“I believe there is nothing worse than dishonah. However, I would prefer a
toast to—” She looked at Hunter defiantly. “Freedom.”

The table grew silent until Hunter cleared his throat.
“She means, I believe, freedom of the Southern states from the oppressive
powers of the North. If I may—” Hunter stood and gazed at Andrea, whose brows
had narrowed, as they always did when forced to listen to views that were at
variance with her own. “Here’s to the Confederacy. May she always maintain her
honor, her rights, and most of all, her
freedom
.”

Hunter made an extra effort to wink and toast
his proud houseguest, who sat with a straight back, looking acutely annoyed but
nonetheless regal. He smiled, for he could tell she was cursing violently
enough to educate all the sailors at sea—even if, for once, the words were not
spoken aloud. She had apparently taken his warning before dinner to heart, a
surprising turn of events considering she generally didn’t listen to him, let
alone obey.

Chapter
29

“What a plague to thee is this mistrust!”

– Polyeucte by Pierre Corneille

Andrea entered the gray shadows of the kitchen,
feeling her way through the darkness with the tip of her cane. This was her
favorite time of day, the quiet, peaceful moments before dawn when all the
world lay wrapped in peaceful slumber. Humming softly to herself, she began to
rekindle the large fire for coffee, anxious to surprise Izzie and Mattie whom
she knew would be along soon.

“Ah-ha, I see I’ve caught the fox in the
henhouse.”

Andrea jumped at the sound of the voice behind
her and whirled around to face it.

“Sorry, did I startle you?” Hunter’s tone made
it obvious he was not sorry in the least.

“Major, you’re … back.” Andrea tried to keep her
voice from shaking. She felt uncomfortable beside his looming form, her mind
flashing back to their last unpleasant encounter. The urge to run seized her,
but when she looked into his laughing, gray eyes, she had a strange desire to stay.

“Just got here,” he said holding up a large
sack. “Mattie said we are getting low on coffee, and now I understand why.”

Hunter’s voice was rich and deep, making it
difficult for Andrea to keep her hands, and her voice, from trembling. Usually
he treated her with cold politeness when he noticed her, ignoring her
altogether when opportunity allowed. His behavior today was unexpected and
confusing.

“I admit I have an affection for coffee,” Andrea
said, trying to avoid his eyes.

“And you have no problem drinking
this
coffee?” He held up the sack marked U.S. PROPERTY.

Andrea realized it was captured coffee, spoils
of war—plunder taken by his men on a raid. “I do not believe my comrades will
suffer if I drink a few cups of their coffee.”

Hunter
grinned. “Good. Then I shall keep the Union provisions coming.”

Andrea frowned at the way he twisted everything
to suit him. “Major,” she said, trying to squeeze past him on the way out the
door, “you’ll no doubt do as you please. But don’t place blame on me for your thievery
and propensity for plunder.”

Although she attempted to make a hasty retreat,
Hunter took a step backward, barring her path. “Thievery? My dear, this is war,
and I’m regrettably forced to share the same quartermaster and supplies as the
U.S. army.”

“Well, I hope you used your manners and asked
for it nicely.” Andrea tried to breathe normally, though his closeness made
that well nigh impossible.

“Armed men do not ask permission. But if you
must know, it was furnished
gratis
.”

“I see,”
Andrea quipped, deciding to play along. “And did you compel the quartermaster
to offer it
gratis
while you were stealing horses with the U.S. brand?”

Hunter cocked his head to one side. “Yes. But
those horses all had riders. And those riders all had guns. This, my dear, is
legally acquired spoils of war, by right of discovery, capture, and
possession.” He paused for a moment and smiled. “And by the fact that when the
Yanks saw my men, they did not care to fight for it.”

Andrea was at a loss for something to say—a
strange state of affairs that did not go unnoticed by Hunter. He laughed
loudly, a deep, rolling laugh that almost made her smile. Instead, she shook
her head in exasperation, sidestepped him, and headed toward his library. She
wanted to get a book to read before he settled in there.

In a hurry,
Andrea did not bother to light a candle, relying instead on the few rays of
early morning light shining through the windows. Giving a hurried glance and
little thought to the layout of the room, she failed to notice a chair out of
place until it was too late. Tripping over it, she tumbled onto the desk,
knocking papers, documents, and books to the floor.

“Miss Evans, what are you doing?” The room
filled with light when Hunter entered carrying a lamp.

Andrea regained her balance and bent down to
pick up the articles she’d disturbed. “Major, I’m sorry. I-I couldn’t see in
the dark—”

“That’s what the lamps are for,” he said, not
unkindly, bending to help pick up some of the scattered items.

Andrea barely heard him. She stood scanning a
piece of paper she had recovered, which read in part:

I forward Andrew Sinclair, a young man
arrested on suspicion of having communicated with the enemy. I have agreed that
he shall be placed over the lines by the first flag of truce, which is in
accordance with his wishes. No specific charges or information has been lodged
against him.

Capt. Alexander H. Hunter

“I-I-I thought—” She looked back to the date at
the top of the order. Her brow wrinkled in perplexity.

“Miss Evans, that is none of your business.”
Hunter ripped the paper from her hands, a deep breath escaping him when he saw
what she had discovered. “I told you before,” he said, continuing to tidy his
desk. “I had nothing to do with your imprisonment. This order was changed
without my knowledge.”

Andrea stared at the paper, and then up at
Hunter, blinking in bewilderment. She reached out and grasped the back of the
chair for balance. “I didn’t believe you.”

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” Hunter
replied, his eyes masked with apparent indifference. “Now if you are looking
for a book, please select one and retire. I have work to do.”

Andrea stared at the floor now, going over the
events in her head. “But it’s not … I didn’t have to sign …”

“Miss Evans,
I only brought up the issue of taking the oath the night of your capture to
watch your reaction. And it was all that I thought it would be.”

Andrea looked up at him, through him, her brow
drawn in confusion.

“I understood
that sending you to prison would do more harm than good, as your tendency to
provoke would only cause immeasurable suffering to you and those around you,”
Hunter said. “It appears I was correct since you apparently decided, either
through lack of judgment or lack of control, not to restrain your tongue,
predictably at your own peril.”