The Lady and the Officer (16 page)

Eugenia peered up with a streaky face. “Are you teasing me?”

“I am not. A well-bred lady never points out someone's shortcomings in the company of others. I heard told that at Queen Victoria's court, a visiting foreign dignitary picked up his finger bowl and drank the contents.”

Eugenia's delicate hand flew to her throat. “Oh, my. What did the queen do?”

“She picked up her finger bowl and drank as well. Then everyone at
table followed her lead. Do you understand why the queen would do such a thing?” Clarisa lifted her daughter's chin with one finger.

“Because she didn't wish the foreigner to feel like a ninny?”

“Exactly. Victoria wanted all to take comfort at her table, and not just from the delicious food she provided.”

Eugenia's tears returned in earnest. “I am a dreadful person. No wonder Cousin Maddy went to the market alone. Who needs the constant assault of my wickedness?”

Clarisa gently shook her daughter to get her attention. “You're not wicked, my love. We just need to remember that someday this horrible war will be over, and our Maddy will return to her friends up north, but she will always be our blood kin. We want her to take home fond memories of her days in Richmond, along with a desire to visit often.”

“I promise to do better, Mama,” Eugenia said, laying her head on her mother's shoulder.

“I have no doubt you will.” Clarisa kissed her smooth, unlined forehead. “Let's go inside. I hear the carriage. Your father and cousin have come home, and I have a matter to discuss with Micah.”

Clarisa watched her daughter scamper off with the energy and exuberance of a child. The admonishment already forgotten, Eugenia was eager to hear about any market day escapades she had missed. Clarisa sent up a quiet prayer that Eugenia would meet and fall in love with a patient man—a man who would overlook her shortcomings and recognize her true nature—a simple, gentle soul in a world that grew frightfully more complex each day.

“Micah, a word with you, please.” Clarisa waited until her husband and niece had entered the house, wishing no one to know her intentions until it was too late to change her mind.

Micah halted on the path to the stable and tightened his grip on the horse's bridle. “Yes, madam?”

“The first chance you get, I would like you to dig up those roses on the side of the house.”

“Which bush, Mrs. Duncan?”

“All of them. I want them dug out and heaped into the refuse pile to be burned.”

If he hadn't been better trained, his jaw would have dropped open several inches. “Your rose garden, madam? The prize roses your guests fuss over all the time?”

“Those are the ones. Impressing my garden club is of little importance to me now. I read in the newspaper that food shortages are imminent all the way down to Wilmington. I won't have people in my house going hungry while I cultivate varietals of fancy thorn bushes.”

Micah scratched a stubbly chin. “What are you going plant there, if I may ask? You won't have room for corn or cotton, and the soil's too dry to plant rice.”

“Don't be silly. I want to plant food we can eat, such as carrots, potatoes, beans, and squash. I'll see if my neighbors can spare their gardeners for few hours tomorrow to give you a hand.”

“It's too late in the season for a garden.” He took a step toward the stable.

“Maybe not for root vegetables if we have a mild winter. I wish to try, at least.”

“Digging up your roses for potatoes?” Micah shook his head like a stubborn mule. “What is Master Duncan going to say about this idea, madam?”

With waning patience, Clarisa crossed her arms. “Have you been spending your free time chatting with Kathleen? If so I'll take this matter up with Esther.”

“I'll start digging soon as I return from driving Master Duncan to work in the morning, madam. There is no need to take this up with my wife.” Micah bit down on his lower lip, but his twinkling eyes gave him away.

“Thank you, Micah. I will discuss the garden with Mr. Duncan when I deem the time is right. If you have no other questions regarding tomorrow, you may see to the horse.”

“Yes, madam.” He tipped his cap and led the horse into the stable.

Clarisa took a few moments to collect her thoughts. John wouldn't like another reminder of the sorry state of affairs in his beloved city, but a woman had to do what she had to do.

N
INE

 

M
adeline couldn't sleep Tuesday night. Tomorrow she and Eugenia would head to the market after breakfast. She was as giddy as her young cousin, but not with the prospect of eating sweet callas or bowls of steamed shrimp and grits. It had been a week since her visit to the
Bonnie Bess
. Had James received her letter? Would he have replied back by now? It was doubtful, to be sure, but possible nonetheless. She needed to force romantic notions from her mind or dawn would find her still staring at the rosettes in the plaster ceiling. Just as Madeline began to doze off, she heard a faint rapping on her door.

“Come in, Genie. The door isn't locked.” She'd spoken loud enough to be heard, but a second knock ensued. Madeline reached for her long wrapper and headed for the door, mildly annoyed.

“I said come in—” Seeing the face in her doorway, she abruptly halted midsentence. Her late night caller wasn't her cousin, but the Duncans' imposing butler.

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Howard.” Looking very uncomfortable, Micah spoke in a whisper. “But I was sent to fetch you.”

Madeline tightened the cloth cord around her waist. “Who sent you? Is Esther ill?” For a moment she feared that false notoriety of her nursing abilities had spread.

Micah's discomfort increased by leaps and bounds. “No, ma'am. A gentleman is outside in the garden. He said I was to fetch you and no one else. He said it was a matter of utmost urgency—could be life or death.” The butler met her gaze for a brief moment.

Madeline thought she might melt into a puddle on the polished cherry wood floor, to be mopped up by the maid tomorrow. “Very well. I'll come at once.” Closing the door behind her, she followed the butler to the back staircase—the servant's staircase which led directly to the terraced garden below. With a pounding heart and damp palms, she feared at any moment bedroom doors would open and a resounding, “Where are you going, Madeline?” would echo through the house.

Will it be James waiting in the jasmine and bougainvillea? Will he sweep me into his arms and pledge lifelong devotion?

Unfortunately, the officer hidden by potted plants was not General Downing but Major Lewis. His face looked pinched and drawn, as though his sleep had been as troubled as hers.

“Mrs. Howard, thank you for seeing me at this indecent hour.” Instead of stepping into the pool of moonlight, he gestured for her to move deeper into the shadows.

With little recourse, she complied. “What is it, Major, that couldn't wait until morning?”

“That will be all,” Lewis hissed to the butler.

Micah still lingered at her heels, not pleased by the midnight rendezvous.

“It's all right, Micah,” she said. “Please wait for me at the foot of the steps to the gallery.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He vanished into the darkness.

“That's the trouble with
former
slaves. They act as though they rule the comings and goings of the household.” Lewis tugged up his jacket collar despite the evening's warmth.

“Please state your business, sir. I would like to return to the house before my absence is noted. I wouldn't wish to explain meeting a man in the garden at this hour.”

“No, that would not do for my plans… our plans, Mrs. Howard.” Smiling with disturbing familiarity, Lewis pulled something from his pocket and held it out in his open palm.

Madeline stared at a leather-bound book, smaller than a deck of playing cards. “What is that?”

“Take it, please. It might prove useful to you.”

With her curiosity aroused, she thumbed through the small volume.

“It's a code book, known only to one or two Union officers. Those officers would appreciate any information you might become privy to.” His gaze drifted toward the mansion's soaring roofline illuminated in the moonlight.

Madeline practically dropped the book into the dirt. “I have no use
for such a thing. I'm not part of your web of secret intrigue. I'm a farmer's widow living temporarily south of the Mason-Dixon Line.” She felt a chill run up her spine into her scalp.

“I know exactly who you are.” Smelling of stale tobacco and dried sweat, Lewis took a step closer. “You sent a letter to General Downing of the Fourth Corps. Your lover, perhaps? Don't you think he could use some assistance, holed up in unfamiliar territory? He's cut off from the bulk of General Meade's army. Or would you prefer him to blindly blunder into battle?”

“What makes you think I could help… the Union? What we overhead at that dinner party was a coincidence, a one-time occurrence. My uncle doesn't make a habit of sitting around the house and discussing General Lee's plans for attack.” Madeline's anxiety was rapidly changing to anger.

How dare this man make such allegations and assumptions?

Major Lewis lifted both palms. “I don't mean to upset you, Mrs. Howard. Just consider the possibility that you
may
hear something useful in the future—something that could aid General Downing's infantry corps. Maybe save the lives of his men… or him.”

Madeline wanted to run from the pompous man, but she couldn't dismiss his suggestion cavalierly.

“After I leave you tonight, you won't see me.” He glanced around the encroaching shrubbery. “I hope to never again set foot on Virginia soil. Keep the book in a safe place. If you wish to convey information, use the code to compose your message. If your message falls into the wrong hands, no one can use it as evidence against you.”

Evidence?
Just the word intimidated Madeline. She knew about foaling pregnant mares, not about passing military secrets. “I will accept the code book, Major, but I make no promises.” She slipped it into the pocket of her robe.

“Nor would I expect any. Take any messages to Captain George of the
Bonnie Bess
. He'll see that they get into the right hands.”

Madeline gasped with the mention of the friendly boat captain's name, but Major Lewis had already disappeared into the shadows. She ran to the bottom of the steps, where the sight of Micah leaning against a post nearly brought her to tears with relief.

“Is everything all right, Mrs. Howard?”

“Yes, thank you, but I would appreciate your not mentioning this visit… by an old friend.”

“I assumed as much, ma'am.” He offered his elbow as they ascended the stairs.

Madeline couldn't wait to reach her room and close the door behind her. Yet her heart rate had barely returned to normal when she heard a second scratching at the wood panel.

“Maddy, may I come in, please?” Eugenia didn't wait for a reply. She opened the door and walked in. “I stopped by a few minutes ago, but your room was empty.”

“I took a few turns around the garden. I was restless and tried to tire myself out.”

“I couldn't sleep, either. That's why I hoped we could talk for a bit.” Dropping onto the settee, Eugenia lowered her face into her hands and began to weep.

Madeline exhaled with relief as she hurried to comfort her young cousin. “What is it, dear heart? Surely your burdens will seem lighter come the dawn. Mine usually do.”

“My troubles continue to grow worse. Have you heard the recent casualty numbers? Young men keep dying every day. By the end of the war, there won't be a single eligible bachelor left in Richmond.”

Madeline placed a hand on her shoulder. “We must think of the sorrows suffered by their mothers and sisters instead of our reduced prospects for courting.”

“I know that's what I should do, but I fear I'll spend the rest of my life sipping tea with Mama in the parlor.”

“You're barely nineteen, Genie. You have plenty of time to find your perfect match.”

“Not if every man under forty is dead. I just heard that Major Penrod might be sent to the battlefield to replace fallen officers.”

“But his leg hasn't properly healed yet.”

“That's what I told Papa. Do you think you might speak to Colonel Haywood? I so wish Joseph to remain in town, especially with the social season drawing near. My debut last winter was less than eventful.” Eugenia trained plaintive blue eyes on Madeline.

“Colonel Haywood? What influence would I have on him? And I don't know when I'll see him next.”

“In case you do? I believe he's been smitten with you ever since you saved his life.”

“I did not—” Madeline paused as the girl's face crumpled. “All right. If I'm given the right opportunity, I will speak to the colonel on Major Penrod's behalf.”