Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (47 page)

Now wide awake, Andrea walked onto the balcony
and felt the night air settle down around her, heavy and close like a wet
blanket. Leaning over the railing, she tried to catch even a hint of a breeze
to cool her clammy brow. All she caught was the smell of tobacco smoke coming
from behind her. When she began to turn to find its source, he spoke.

“Too hot for yah, Mish Evans?” His voice was
thick and rich, and uncharacteristically, had a pronounced Virginia drawl.

 “Colonel. I had … I had n-n-o idea you were—”
Andrea stuttered, suddenly aware of her deficiency of a robe.

“Jush got in.”

Andrea wondered why he slurred his words, but
turned back toward the banister without inquiring. “It’s rather a … warm
night.” She hoped that would end the conversation.

“Yesh, it is.”

“Are you quite all right, Colonel?” Andrea
looked back over her shoulder. A bottle clanking hard against a glass in the
shadows was the only reply.

“Have a seat and join me.” He patted the chair
beside him.

Andrea’s face reddened. She had never seen
Hunter so completely abandoned in his manners. She could make him out now. His
coat lay haphazardly on a chair beside him. His shirt was unbuttoned at the
collar, his sleeves rolled up.

“That would be highly inappropriate, Colonel.”

Hunter put his head back and laughed. “Begging
your pardon, Mish Evanssssh,” he said, evidently majestically drunk. “Since
when have you been worried about pro-pri … pro-pre …”

“Propriety,” Andrea finished for him, wishing
again that she had put on her wrapper. “Sir, I think that perhaps you should—”

“Come here a moment,” he commanded. He stood and
killed his drink in one swallow before letting the glass hit the table with an
unsteady hand.

Andrea obeyed, afraid to refuse. The tone he
used to give the order was not one she wished to dispute, especially in his
current state.

“Do you see this?” He swept his arm toward the
fields and barns below, then took a step backward, the action knocking him off
balance.

Andrea reached out for his arm to steady him and
nodded, though she could see nothing in the haze and darkness.

“Thish is my life. Everything ish here.”

“Yes, I understand that, Alex.”

Hunter stopped his ramblings for a moment and
stared down at her lips, as if hearing his name on them made him lose his train
of thought. Andrea blushed, embarrassed that she had taken the liberty.

“Your beauty,” he said, softly now, “would
create a pulsh in a marble statue. Do you know that?”

The air was perfectly motionless. Andrea felt
the heat rise in her cheeks and looked down. “You should not speak like this.
You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Hunter smiled, put his hand under her chin, and
lifted her head. “It’s not my wishh to make you un-com … un-fort …” He exhaled
in exasperation. “I was merely shtating a fact.”

He took
another half-step forward, as if talking and keeping his balance were a bit too
much to be attempted at the same time. “If I lost thish place—”

The desperation in his voice made Andrea’s heart
swell with sympathy. She knew in a moment the source of his fears. She had
heard at the ball that Union soldiers were sweeping through the valley burning
homes and barns. The idea that this home could be destroyed in the firestorm
had never occurred to her as a possibility. Now, from his tone, he thought it a
probability.

Andrea stared into his eyes, at a loss for
something to say to console him. No words could possibly bring him comfort, for
he appeared sure his fear would be justified—and soon.

“I know nothing of that,” she said. “But I do
know that alcohol is a destroyer of human reason. Things will look brighter in
the morning.”

Andrea gave him no time to reorganize his
thoughts. “Let me help you to bed.” She grabbed him around the waist and led
him through the open door of his chamber. Hunter did not resist. He sat down
hard on the mattress and watched her remove his boots.

“Get some rest.” Andrea gently pushed him into a
lying position. When she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her
back.

“Even if the war takes everything else—” He
stopped and gazed earnestly into her eyes, as if she should understand his
meaning.

“Even if it—”
he began again, his voice so low and determined it sent a shiver down Andrea’s
spine. “You won’t
…
don’t let it come
between us
…
anymore.”

Andrea tried to pull away, not sure of the
emotions that raged inside her.

“Promish?” He pulled her closer and this single
word was a demand.

“I promise,” she whispered, taking in the sweet
smell of liquor on his breath.

Hunter let go of her wrist and appeared to fall
instantly asleep.

Andrea stared at his careworn countenance,
surprised at herself for not running from the room. Instead, she pulled a
blanket tenderly over him and watched his gentle breathing. “Sleep well, Alex.”
She took a deep breath at the sudden tightening in her chest as she said the
words. A strange feeling overcame her then, one of compassion and belonging,
and it caused the rapid flight that had, for a moment, been delayed.

* * *

When Andrea opened the door to her room the next
morning, she practically ran into Hunter on the other side preparing to knock.
“I trust I did not offend you or create a disturbance last night,” he said with
a grave expression. “If I did, I apologize.”

His bloodshot eyes looked tired. Andrea could
tell he had no memory of his actions.

“You were a perfect gentleman, as always.” She
turned away to bring an end to the conversation.

Hunter grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Now you
have me worried because I know I could never be a perfect gentleman in the
company of such a charming young lady in my … undesirable condition.”

Andrea turned and feigned a look of
astonishment. “You think
me
charming, Colonel? I would never have
guessed such a thing.”

“When I say
charming
, I mean it only in
the most exasperating sort of way.”

“Sir, if that is your definition of the word,
then you can believe with complete confidence that you were quite
charming
last night yourself.”

Andrea turned to walk away, but not before
noticing that at least half of Hunter’s mouth had lifted into a lighthearted
smile at her comeback.

Chapter
46

“Man is so made that whenever anything fires his soul,
impossibilities vanish.”

– Jean de la Fontaine

Three days later, Andrea awoke to streaks of
orange blazing across the eastern sky. Dressing hurriedly, fearing she had
overslept, she took a moment to stand on the balcony and admire the view. 

Taking a deep breath of the morning air, she
almost choked when she inhaled the acrid smell of smoke rather than fresh
morning air.

Running back into her chamber to check the clock
on the mantle, she realized it was too early for dawn to be so far advanced.
Back to the balcony she ran, and now amidst the copper-colored sky, she saw
columns of black, rolling smoke in the distance. She even made out the
glittering sparks and flying embers that created the ghastly glare.

The hills beyond Hawthorne looked a very mass of
flame, and she realized the impact of the dreadful scene unfolding. She leaned
over the railing and cupped her hands. “Zach!”

In an instant, his head appeared below her.
“Take the stock to the woods,” she yelled pointing to the distance. Without
waiting to see if he understood her command, she darted back inside,
half-running, half-hopping to Victoria’s room where she pounded on the door.
“Get up! Get up!”

Down the stairs she stumbled and out the door,
where excitement already prevailed. Zach and others had tied horses together
and were leading them by the dozen to a hideaway on the side of the hill.
Andrea looked to the east and trembled at the great columns of smoke dotting
the horizon.

She took a few steps more and a horrible groan
escaped her. Just over the hill, rising over the trees, shot another column of
black smoke, swirling and dancing in evil delight. It had to be the Talbert
house. “They’re coming!”

Andrea had hoped the Union troops would somehow
not discover Hawthorne, but it appeared the home was right in their path. She
had no idea how much time they had. She only knew she could not face the look
in Hunter’s eyes if he returned to a smoldering ruin.

Running to the barn, barely using her cane,
Andrea bridled Justus. When Zach had a string of horses together, she climbed
upon him bareback and led them to the hidden paddock behind the hill. By the
time she returned, he had more ready to go. “Move the worst of the wounded
horses into the front stalls,” she ordered. “We don’t have time to move them
all.”

Returning again, Andrea saw only one more string
of Hawthorne stock remaining to be moved. In the early morning light, a column
of dust rose on the road—likely a cavalry unit that had discovered the turnoff
to Hawthorne only a half-mile away.  Blinking against the acrid smell of smoke,
Andrea spied Victoria wringing her hands on the bottom step of the porch.

“We’re all going to die! They’ll kill us all!”

Andrea rode Justus up to the porch, leaned
forward, and grabbed the panicked woman by her collar, shaking her. “Do as I
say, Victoria! Go to the barn, get an armful of hay, and put it in the
library!”

Letting her go, she turned Justus away. “And
leave the front door open,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“The library? Are you insane?

Andrea pulled Justus to a halt and shot Victoria
a look that implied she might take the time to dismount and show her just how
insane she was. “Do as I say!” The tone of her voice made Victoria scamper to
the barn.

Grabbing the remaining stock, Andrea returned a
few moments before the troops appeared in sight at the bridge. Without
stopping, she rode Justus up the steps and into the house. Dismounting in the
foyer, she led him to the library where Victoria sat huddled.

“Here.” Andrea handed her the reins. “Keep him
quiet.”

“Oh no.” Victoria backed up and shook her head.
“No! I’m scared to death of horses!”

“Do it, or death is exactly what you’ll be
facing!”

Andrea hastened back toward the door, trying to
straighten her ravaged dress as she walked.

“Aren’t you going to take a gun or something?”
Victoria mumbled from where she now stood on a chair, holding the horse’s reins
at arm’s length.

Andrea’s gaze rose to the old muzzle loader
hanging over the fireplace—the only weapon she was aware of in the house, and
one she surmised had been owned by Hunter’s grandfather. Though the idea of
carrying a weapon appealed to her, Andrea turned back and gave Victoria a
disgusted look. “I scarcely think a single gun will serve any purpose against
an entire regiment of cavalry, Victoria.” Andrea wished she knew what
would
work against an entire regiment of cavalry, but she was at a loss for an
answer.

A frightened Izzie suddenly appeared in the
doorway carrying an armful of haphazard belongings Victoria had apparently
ordered her to take to safety. Among the items was a beautiful black mourning
gown of silk.

“Izzie!” Andrea exclaimed, making the girl jump.
“Give me that!”

“That’s my gown!” At Victoria’s outburst, Justus
jerked his head up, causing her to scream. “Take this beast!! Izzie, I demand
that you stay here and take this horrible creature! Don’t leave me or I’ll see
you whipped!”

“Follow me, Izzie.” Andrea grabbed Izzie’s hand
and closed the door, ignoring Victoria’s sobs and screams. She then took the
dress, and with Izzie’s help, threw it over the front door while it was open.
When they closed the door, the skirt portion appeared like a large, black fan
from the outside.

When Andrea
looked up, she beheld a long line of riders in blue, trotting toward her in
columns of two. Above and beyond them lay a billowing unnatural blackness of
smoke that had spread out and settled over the valley like a thick blanket of
fog.

Andrea limped down the steps, leaning heavily on
her cane to exaggerate her injury, and went out the lane to greet the visitors.
When they were but fifteen rods away, her legs began to shake. The men carried
torches in their hands, sabers on their saddles, and guns around their waists.
She had never felt such helpless terror before. Never. Yet never did she feel
more determination or carry stronger resolve. The thought of watching Hawthorne
go up in smoke overcame any hesitation within her.

“Gentlemen, what can we do for you?”

“We’re under orders to set fire to every
building in this vicinity. We can give you the consideration of fifteen minutes
to remove some personal belongings.”

Andrea’s heart leaped to her throat even though
she had known what was coming. He had orders to lay the region to waste, and
she could tell by his tone and attitude that he fully intended to obey them to
the letter.

“Fifteen minutes?” Andrea’s voice was full of
disbelief. “Then your men will help remove the sick from inside? I fear most of
them cannot get out unaided.”

“What do you mean ‘sick’?” The officer gazed over
her shoulder at the house.

“Certainly you were informed there are men with
smallpox here.” Andrea nodded toward the front door where the black gown
fluttered in the wind in silent warning.

“Smallpox?” The colonel pulled his horse
backward a step, his gaze shifting from the house to the disheveled,
frazzled-looking girl before him.

Andrea knew that, to a soldier’s mind, the
disease was more painful, more prolonged, and more agonizing than death from
the enemy’s guns.