Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (43 page)

“I … I was simply doing what I feel is right in
my heart—”

“Your
heart
? Well, thanks to your heart,
I lost more than two thousand dollars today!”

Andrea stared out the window.

“Have you nothing to say?”

“The cost of doing what is right cannot be
measured.” Andrea gave Hunter a penetrating gaze. “Not in pain. Not in
sacrifice. And certainly not in the loss of gold.”

She turned and walked out the door, leaving
Hunter to mull over the fact that he knew she was right.

Chapter
42

“A faith that shines more bright and clear,

When tempests rage without

That, when in danger knows no fear,

In darkness knows no doubt.”

– Hymn from Nurse and Spy

Hunter heard a blood-curdling scream from the
direction of the porch and flew through the house to discover its source. He
found Andrea standing perfectly still, a look of complete panic on her face.
“Miss Evans. What is wrong?”

She grasped his forearm in a powerful one-handed
clutch. “Spider,” she whispered, as if fearing the creature would hear her.

Hunter thought she must be joking, because not
even the sight of a hangman’s noose could equal the terror that radiated from
her eyes as she shook her hair, then her hand, as if she had touched something
vile.

“A spider, Miss Evans?”

“Yes, it dropped—” She gasped, barely able to
finish the sentence. “In my h-hair.”

Despite her serious face, Hunter put his head
back and laughed. “You, Andrea Evans, are afraid of a little spider?”

“It wasn’t
little
!”

Hunter suppressed another laugh because he felt
her trembling, yet he hardly believed what he heard and saw. The daring,
dauntless Andrea Evans had a weakness.

“You don’t understand!” Sighing with obvious
exasperation at his mirth, she checked her hair one last time and picked up her
skirts to depart. But before taking a step, she stared warily at the porch
floor as if to make sure the creature was not about to attack her from the
ground. Then she peered up to the beams in case it, or any of its many
relatives, was preparing to launch an aerial assault.

“Well, I’ll be!”

Hunter turned to see a pony cart pulling into
the turnaround at the porch. “No wonder I never see you any more, Alexander
Hunter.”

“Mrs. Fox.” Hunter strode down the steps. “What
a pleasant surprise.”

“Pleasant indeed.” The woman looked at Andrea
and winked. Heaving her robust figure out of the seat, she stood and waited for
Hunter to help her down.

“I’m Emma Fox,” she said after she dusted off
her skirt and offered her hand to Andrea. “The Widow Fox is what the boys tend
to call me.”

“Mrs. Emma Fox, I’d like you to meet Andrea
Evans. Miss Evans, my neighbor, Mrs. Fox of Hawk Shadow Farm.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Fox.”

“I had no idea you had a beautiful young woman
hidden away up here,” Mrs. Fox said, turning her attention back to Hunter.

Victoria, who must have heard the sound of the
earlier screaming, appeared in the doorway and cleared her throat. “Oh, and of
course, you know Miss Hamilton,” Hunter said hurriedly.

The newcomer gave Victoria a sideways glance.
“Yes, I do.” She offered no further comment.

“Well, what brings you to Hawthorne?” Hunter
stepped forward. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, no. I just came to deliver a message from
the Talberts.”

“The Talberts? Is something wrong?”

“My gads, boy, no.” Mrs. Fox laughed. “Quite the
contrary. I’ve come to invite you to a celebration Saturday.”

“A celebration? For what? I was just at the
Talberts yesterday and there was no mention of such an event.”

“Mrs. Talbert and I and some of the boys just decided
today. It’s a celebration party in honor of your recent promotion—though the
ladies are more interested in celebrating the fact that Colonel Hunter survived
an intended ambush last week. Either one is certainly sufficient for
celebration.

Hunter scoffed. Victoria squealed. And Andrea
suppressed a gasp. She did not know Hunter had been promoted to a Colonel.

“Oh darling, a party! Do you know how long it’s
been since I’ve attended a party?” Victoria’s excitement apparently did not
stem from news of the promotion. “It’s Saturday? Why that’s the day after
tomorrow.,” she said to no one in particular. “How will I ever find something
to wear by then?” She talked excitedly and hurriedly, as if the announcement
was of far greater significance than the current state of the country at large.

Mrs. Fox frowned at the outburst and turned to
Andrea. “You will attend won’t you, dear?”

“Miss Evans is recovering from an injury,”
Hunter said before she had time to respond. “She’s in no condition to attend a
party.”

“She looks fine to me,” Mrs. Fox insisted with
relentless persistence. “I’ll stop by and pick her up myself. I can see you
will have your hands full.” She gave an unflattering glance toward Victoria and
turned back to the wagon, indicating the conversation was over.

“She has nothing appropriate to wear.” Hunter
tried one more time to turn down the invitation, while helping her into the
wagon.

“Oh, come now,” Mrs. Fox said. “She’s about the
same size as Elizabeth. I’m sure she left a thing or two lying around here.”

Andrea’s eyes rose in obvious surprise at the
mention of Hunter’s wife, but he successfully masked any emotion.

“You’ll inform the other men.” Mrs. Fox’s
statement sounded like an order, not a question. Then she turned to Andrea at
the exclusion of the other two. “He’s always been such a worrier. Wait and see,
everything will go without a hitch.”

Yes, everything will go without a hitch as
easily as a wagon goes uphill without a horse,”
Hunter thought.

“I’ll be by about seven o’clock Saturday.”
Without waiting for a reply, she slapped the horse and disappeared down the
drive at a brisk trot.

* * *

The jostling of the carriage did nothing to ease
the pain in Andrea’s leg once she and Mrs. Fox were on their way. Like Hunter,
she had a bad feeling about tonight. Although she would never admit it, she
knew he was right in trying to convince her not to attend.

But the conversation soon took her thoughts away
from her nagging instincts and anxiety. The topics they discussed were light
and impersonal—until Hunter became the focus of the banter.

Mrs. Fox leaned toward Andrea. “So how is it
that you came to know the king of the land?”

“The king?” Andrea laughed.

“My dear, certainly you know the authority and
influence the Colonel holds in this province.” She sighed deeply. “Such a
warrior, yet such a gentleman. Commands the affection and respect of all who
meet him.”

Andrea looked at her hands. “No, I was … not
aware—“

“And handsome, of course. Certainly you are
aware of
that
.” The widow turned and looked directly into her eyes.

Andrea felt herself blushing. “I suppose he is
somewhat attractive.”

“Somewhat attractive?” Mrs. Fox bubbled over
with laughter. “The Greeks have their gods, and we Virginians have Colonel
Hunter. If there is a soul who can exceed him in manliness or grace of
character, I’ve yet to meet him. Gracious me!”

The widow shook her head and babbled on. “He’d
make a wonderful husband, yet he shows no sign of desiring to settle down. Who
could blame him really, his mother deserting him the way she did, and then that
business with Elizabeth. Certainly every eligible woman in Virginia and beyond
has made him aware she’s available. And then, of course, there’s Victoria.”

The conversation began to make Andrea
uncomfortable. She brushed some imaginary lint off her skirt and then repeated
the unnecessary task.

“He’s changed much since then,” Mrs. Fox
continued, talking in a low voice as if she feared being overheard. “Not that
he was ever that sociable. But when Elizabeth was at Hawthorne there were
visitors and entertaining all the time. He’s a regular recluse now, and
seemingly perfectly content. Yet everyone’s convinced he’ll eventually marry
someone with a pedigree. You know, take a Virginia bride.”

Mrs. Fox looked over at Andrea. “Oh, I really
shouldn’t be gossiping like this. Anyway, you never answered my question. It’s
such a rare privilege to be honored with his intimacy. How did you meet?”

Andrea took a deep breath. “We met … well . . .
quite by accident.”

“Oh, the war, I suppose,” Mrs. Fox finished for
her.

Andrea nodded, glad she did not have to go into
more detail.

“If that is the case, then I’m glad to hear some
good has come out of this terrible state of affairs,” Mrs. Fox said wistfully.
“They say it’s all right to give your only son to the Cause—”

Andrea heard the woman’s voice tremble.

“But I wish I had mine back.”

Andrea looked up into Mrs. Fox’s eyes. “I’m
sorry. You lost a son?”

She nodded. “He served under Colonel . . .
Captain
Hunter, at the time.” Her voice was raw with emotion. “He was a lieutenant.”

Andrea’s heart stopped beating. She closed her
eyes, and grabbed the edge of the seat for support as a wave of dizziness swept
through her as her mind drifted back to that day at Thoroughfare Gap.

“What’s wrong, dear? You don’t look well.”

Andrea looked up at her, but did not speak.

“Matthew and Alex were inseparable friends, grew
up together.” She looked over at Andrea sadly. “He took it hard, Alex did. Felt
responsible, I guess. But I never blamed him. How could I? He’s always been
like a second son to me.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Andrea’s voice was
just a whisper. “Was anyone else killed that day?”

Mrs. Fox looked at her curiously. “No, dear.
Alex would draw blood with his teeth before he would let the Yankees get too
close to his men. But there were some prisoners taken, I believe.” She shook
her head sadly. “I think Alex took it even harder than I. He swore to me he’d
extract in Yankee blood the value of my loss.”

Andrea gulped. “I’m sorry, I-I-’m not feeling
very well. Can we go back?”

“My dear, we’re almost there. It’s all this talk
about Matthew, isn’t it? I’m sorry to have upset you. It’s been more than a
year now. I should not have brought it up.”

Andrea felt nauseous. The incident at
Thoroughfare Gap had been a little more than a year ago, when Hunter was still
a captain. If Matthew Fox had died there, it was because of her. She may have
caused the death of the only son of the only friend she had in this godforsaken
land!

Andrea tried to breathe without gasping for air,
but she felt like she was drowning as Hunter’s words from that night echoed in
her ears. “My loss was severe, more so in the worth than the number slain.” She
swallowed hard, felt the blood draining from her face, and tried to concentrate
on the moonbeams adorning the meadow.

“Ah, here we are,” Mrs. Fox said, turning the
team into a tree-lined drive. “Feeling better?”

Andrea took
a deep breath at the sight of a house gleaming from afar. She looked around
then, and thought the drive looked strangely familiar. Searching her mind, she
could think of no reason for such a reflection. As they ascended a long,
covered ally of trees, the house appeared again, ghostly in the light mist, but
luminous with twinkling lanterns. Already the sounds of music and laughter
floated in the breeze, and Andrea tried desperately to turn her thoughts to
other things. She was here. There was no turning back now.

As they crowned the last small rise, the house
appeared in full view. Horses, dozens and dozens of them, all meticulously
groomed and looking sleek and swift, stood tied indiscriminately throughout the
yard, along with drays, carryalls, traps, coaches, and carriages.

It seemed that all of Virginia had been seeking
an opportunity to celebrate, and Hunter’s escape from an ambush had provided
it. In the fashion in which the house was lit—and from the noise emanating from
its depths—this party was fit to do honor to a king.

* * *

Hunter had just taken a sip of punch, which he
almost discharged onto the man next to him, when Andrea came through the
doorway. Dressed in the colors of dawn, candlelight flickering off her hair,
she appeared as magnificent as nature itself. Although holding the hand of Mrs.
Fox for support, she gave the impression she was entering on the arm of
royalty.

Allowing his gaze to drift to the men who stared
openly, Hunter looked back to the entranceway and felt his heart
uncharacteristically pick up its pace. Andrea was smiling demurely at one of
his men, Lieutenant Pierce, who apparently had not bothered to wait for the
proper introduction. He bowed and kissed her hand with his usual pugnacious
chivalry, examining her in such a way that made his intentions obvious.

Hunter shifted his weight uneasily, thinking
what could happen should the tall, broad-shouldered lieutenant discover the
true identity of the one whose hand he held so lovingly now. He knew how
quickly that expression of lust would turn to loathing.

Pierce was well known for his ability with
women, and was equally renowned for his ability with a gun. Hotheaded and
temperamental, he was a man who, when riled, relied heavily on bullets and
fists. Hunter would have dismissed a lesser man in a minute, but Pierce was not
unworthy to be considered among the bravest in his ranks.

Taking a sip
of his drink and nodding mechanically at Victoria’s incessant chattering beside
him, Hunter watched Andrea turn and fix her attention musingly on the crowd. He
thought he saw strong admiration and a flicker of wonder cross her face before
a shadow of deep regret crept into her expression. Following her gaze to the
far side of the room, Hunter blinked in surprise when he saw it was the
Southern Banner that had evoked the remorseful expression. Turning back to
analyze the gaze, he saw it had disappeared. The charming smile had returned.