Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (34 page)

Andrea watched him drag a large tree limb off
the fence and begin to restack the rocks. “I wish I could be of some help.”

“That’s quite all right,” he said turning
around, breathing heavily. “Just enjoy the view.”

Andrea lowered her eyes, feeling her cheeks grow
warm at the view before her now. The cotton shirt Hunter wore stuck to his
form, revealing the power of his broad shoulders and the strength of every
swelling muscle. Glistening with sweat, his bulging forearms looked like they
could bend steel. Both frightened and fascinated, Andrea quickly turned away to
the safer vista in the opposite direction. The effect of the breeze as it
danced with the sunlight through the leaves above soon captured her attention.

“That should do it.” Hunter wiped his hands on
his trousers and jumped into the wagon. “There’s a creek up a little ways. I
think I’d better wash off.”

Andrea nodded, keeping her eyes averted. She
dared not look at him. It confused her that a mere glance from those gray eyes
suddenly caused her heart to pound and her cheeks to blush.

But Andrea forgot her apprehension when the
wagon broke out of the forest that sheltered them. Not even the surroundings
through which they had just passed could compete with the majestic splendor
spread before her. A sparkling creek, the same, she surmised, that separated
Hawthorne from the rest of the world, trickled through a meadow where nature
had spread a blanket of floral glory. Here and there, large oak and birch trees
seemed to stand guard to any unnatural intrusion, and above it all, the sun
poured out bountiful rays that turned everything they touched to golden
splendor. The scene surely rivaled Eden in its indescribable beauty.

“Are you going to get down?” Hunter sounded
impatient as he stood  beside the wagon waiting to help her, but the pleased
smile he wore showed his satisfaction with her reaction.

Andrea smiled and stood, but continued to cast
her gaze across the teeming hills in utter amazement. Sighing, Hunter reached
up and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her out of the conveyance.

“This is part of Hawthorne?” she asked, clasping
his arm for support.

He nodded. “One of my favorite places.”

Andrea sat on a large rock, touching and
smelling the flowers that surrounded her while Hunter washed his face and
splashed water over his head. When he finished, he flung himself lazily upon
the bank. “The water’s cold and clean if you want some.”

Andrea
removed her uncomfortable shoes and stockings and hopped over to the side of
the stream. “Ah, this is truly heaven.” She lifted her skirts to her knees as
she stood near the bank, letting the mud rise between her toes.

“Indeed,” Hunter answered, looking up from her
ankles to meet her gaze. “Actually it is the next best thing—it’s Virginia.”

Andrea grinned at his intended jibe and hopped
over to the crevice of a fallen tree. Sitting down and leaning back, she stared
at the sky, watching a hawk circle above them.

“Daniel and I used to come here to fish, and
always ended up doing just what you’re doing.”

Andrea raised her eyes and studied him, trying
to form the image of a daydreaming youth staring at the sky. She discarded the
attempt almost immediately, but wondered how there could be a man with such
dual and different natures—leading his men against inconceivable odds one day,
discussing his childhood or quoting Shakespeare the next. What kind of person,
she asked herself, could be occupied in the deliberate destruction of one’s
country, while lounging before her like a courteous and considerate gentleman?

“You ready to go?” Hunter stood abruptly and
spit out the blade of grass he’d been chewing. “There’s one more stop I want to
make before we head back. It’s getting late.”

Andrea found
herself talking quite freely once the wagon began rolling, as she tried to
identify the different varieties of birds and butterflies that flitted across
their path. But when they crested another hill, she grew instantly silent.

Directly in front of them hung the sun in an
outrageous flaming sky of violent red and orange. This was apparently what
Hunter had been in a hurry to show her—and his timing was perfect.

“It appears close enough to touch,” Andrea
whispered.

When the horses stopped, she departed the wagon,
and limped to the very crown of the hill. Leaning on her cane, she stared
mesmerized at the fiery eye in the sky.

“We better get a move on,” Hunter said after a
few minutes of awed silence. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Andrea discovered that Hunter was right about
the darkness. Within minutes the view changed from sun and sky to moon and
stars. Fireflies danced in the meadows on each side, adding to nature’s light
display.

“Are we close to
home
?” she asked when
the shades of night drew completely around them.

Hunter tightened his grip on the reins as if
surprised to hear the word on her lips.

Before she could analyze his response, the
horses picked up their pace quite drastically and she had her answer. Hunter
steered the careening wagon to the back of the house, and pulled the horses to
a sudden and abrupt halt, causing Andrea to grab his arm to keep from being
thrown.

She looked up, bubbling over with amusement that
he’d allowed the horses to dash at such a pace. But her smile froze when she
met the look in the steel-gray eyes staring down at her.

“Truce?” Hunter’s voice was barely audible,
though his face was only inches from hers.

A long, breathless moment with no words ensued.

“Massa?”

They both jumped.

“Sorry,
Massa,” Zach said, “but Miz Victoria is waitin’ for you in de house.”

Hunter cursed under his breath and hopped out of
the wagon like it was on fire. “How long has she been here?” His voice was full
of impatience as he took three steps at a time up the veranda without a
backward glance toward Andrea.

* * *

Hunter was not in a hurry to see Victoria, but
he knew better than to keep her waiting. He followed the heavy scent of perfume
to the parlor in the front of the house, where he found her powdering her face.

“Oh, Alex!” She rushed over to him. “I’m so glad
you’re here at last. Your insolent servants wouldn’t tell me where you were or
when you’d return.” Victoria sniffled and laid her head on his chest. “You just
wouldn’t believe what this awful war is doing to Richmond. I thought perhaps
Cassie and I could stay with you for a while, until things settle down there.”
She looked up with a flutter of eyelashes.

Hunter
glanced over at the young maid standing apprehensively in the corner. “Of
course, Victoria,” he heard himself saying, though every nerve in his body told
him it was a mistake. “I’ll have the guest room made up for you.”

When he glanced out through the open parlor
door, he saw Andrea in the hall making slow, painful progress toward the
stairs. Her hair ran riot from the swift pace they’d taken, but when he cleared
his throat to make introductions, she turned with the mien and beauty of a
queen.

“Miss Hamilton, I would like you to meet my . .
. other houseguest, Andrea Evans. She’s staying here while she … recuperates
from an injury. Miss Evans, Miss Hamilton.”

Silence hung in the elegant home, interrupted
only by a palpable sensation of instant dislike on both sides of the parties
being introduced. Victoria boldly examined Andrea from head to toe with a slow,
unbelieving swoop of the eyes. “How very lovely to meet you,” she said, making
it clear by her tone that it was not. Then she grabbed Hunter’s arm. “I’m sure
Alex has told you all about us.” She looked at him with a knowing and intimate
smile, then shifted her gaze to Andrea.

Andrea looked blankly at Hunter. “I fear he has
not had the time. But if you’ll pardon me, I’ll retire and allow you to get …
reacquainted.” Nodding toward each but looking at neither, she turned and began
her slow and tedious ascent up the stairs.

Victoria fell back into Alex’s arms again. “Oh,
it’s so-o-o good to see you’re all right. I was afraid you’d be out fighting.
We have so much catching up to do.”

“Actually, Victoria, I’m afraid you’ve come at a
bad time. I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

“Oh, no, Alex. You simply can’t leave me here
alone with that … that stranger,” she whined. “Please stay.”

Victoria cried and held onto him as if he
intended to depart for many years and to a distant country, but Alex eased her
away. “I’m sorry the war doesn’t run according to your schedule, Victoria.”

“But is this an important mission? Can’t it be
put off for one day?”

Hunter looked at her coldly. “They’re all
important, Victoria. And no  it cannot.”

“Oh, have you no other thought but the service
of your country?” she moaned with her face in her hands. Looking out between
two fingers and apparently seeing her pouting had no effect on him, Victoria
raised her head and smiled.

“Well, we have tonight. We can do some catching
up tonight.” She wore an open invitation on her face as she took one of his
hands in both of hers and pressed it against her cheek.

Chapter
32

“When woman once to evil turns,

All hell within her bosom burns.”

– English poet

A bright sun spurted its rays through a thin
shaft of clouds as Hunter cantered across the bridge to Hawthorne. The warmth
of the beams felt good on his back, like tender hands after a hard day’s work.
Considering the violent storms he’d ridden through over the past week, the sun
felt even more welcoming.

But Hunter’s thoughts were not on the sunbeams.
They were on the morning he’d left Hawthorne and the two houseguests he’d left
behind.

“Welcome home, Massa.” Zach grabbed Hunter’s
bridle rein and waited for him to dismount.

“Thanks, Zach,” he said wearily, dismounting and
untying a saddlebag. “It’s good to be back.”

Hunter
didn’t hear the front door open, but he couldn’t miss the unearthly squeal that
followed. “Oh, Alex, you’re ho-o-me!” He barely had time to brace himself for
the assault that followed. Victoria ran down the steps , none too ladylike, and
threw herself into his arms. “Oh, I missed you so!”

“A man could get used to such a greeting, I
suppose,” Hunter said, his tone sounding more annoyed than pleased.

“Oh, darling,” Victoria whimpered, “it has been
perfectly dreadful here without you. Why don’t you go change into some fresh
clothes and then we can dine together, and then—”

Hunter pried her arms away from his neck. “I’m
afraid that is impossible, Victoria.” He turned his attention back to Zach.
“See that he’s rubbed down and fed well. He covered a lot of ground this week.”

Yes, suh. But, uh Massa … I has something to
tell you.”

Hunter held up his hand. “Not now, Zach. I’ll
come down to the barn later. I’m sure it can wait.”

“Yes, suh,” the slave answered dejectedly,
leading the horse away. But he continued looking over his shoulder, indicating
that perhaps it could not.

“Victoria,” Hunter said, springing lightly up
the steps. “Will you kindly find Mattie and tell her to draw a bath?”

“Well, I can try, I suppose,” Victoria said from
behind him, obviously perturbed at being put off so abruptly. “Likely she is
still waiting on your
other
houseguest hand and foot. Why, that girl
stays abed all day. One would think she invented sleep by the way she loves to
practice it.”

Hunter half-laughed at the absurdity of the
statement, but then stopped just outside the door and looked at her closely.
“Miss Evans? In bed at this hour? Surely you jest.”

“Laugh all you like,” Victoria snapped. “She
closets herself away like a queen. And your servants seem to feel it necessary
to treat her as such.”

Hunter just shook his head as he made his way
toward his library. He knew Victoria well enough to know that Andrea was likely
trying to stay out of her way. But then again, that Miss Evans would attempt to
avoid a fight did seem a little peculiar.

“You
condescendin’ to take a bath, Massa?” Mattie asked from behind him.

 “Yes,” he said wearily, putting his saddlebag
on his desk. “Right away.”

He looked to the open door when he heard
Victoria’s squealing voice upstairs. “Mattie! Mattie! Show yourself this
instant!”

“Why she yelling that?” Mattie asked irritably.
“She gonna wake up—” She stopped herself and looked at Hunter. “The dead.”

Hunter sat down at his desk and put his head in
his hands when Mattie departed. Hawthorne was once a place where he retired to
escape the turmoil of war. Now he was not sure which was more chaotic—his home
or the battlefield. To help answer the query, the door flew open and a flurry
of skirts bustled in. “I found your insolent servant and she’s heating your
water,” Victoria reported.

* * *

After a bath and a few hours uninterrupted
sleep—his first of both in days—Hunter crept back down the stairs toward his
library, hoping to avoid Victoria. He therefore spoke in hushed tones to Mattie
when he encountered her on the staircase carrying an armful of wood. “You’re
building a fire on a beautiful evening like this?”

“Miz Andrea has a chill,” Mattie said
hesitantly, “from dat lazy ole wind the storm brought.”

“
Lazy
wind?” Hunter stopped and looked at
her.

“Yezzah,” she said, continuing up the stairs as
if she did not have time to stop. “Miz Andrea say it too lazy to go around, so
it go drekly through.”

Hunter watched the woman disappear and shook his
head. His own household was becoming more remote and mysterious to him by the
minute. Where was Miss Evans anyway?

The remorse at having left so suddenly had
weighed constantly on his mind during his absence. He hoped he could have a
word with her in private before he departed again. Did she regret his leaving?
Or did anger and resentment keep her locked in her room? He sighed heavily. He
did not have the time or the inclination to ponder the inner workings of a
woman’s mind—especially one as erratic and unpredictable as Andrea Evans’.