The Lady and the Officer (22 page)

Doubtlessly the man was a Yankee soldier, but in whose division or corps? John Duncan relayed that her husband had been killed in the opening battle at Manassas, but he provided no information about her current paramour. Elliott only knew for certain that it wasn't him. Despite his attempts to charm and ingratiate himself, Mrs. Howard managed to stay at arm's length. Other than the dinner party prior to the first night of caroling, they were never alone. The intimate supper
coincidence
had required thoughtful planning by Mrs. Duncan. Afterward, Madeline invited a neighbor to join them in the carriage to church, and she even invited the elderly widow to the Haywood pew on Sunday mornings.

Subsequent suppers before caroling were potluck as dozens of guests milled around the table or balanced plates on their laps on the terrace. Because neighbors brought bowls or baskets of their favorite food, the meal had become a festive hodgepodge. Considering that the meal lasted
an hour and a half, followed by socializing at each church, Elliott would have grown weary of celebrants if not for Mrs. Howard. The belles and matrons, on behalf of their daughters, parried like artillerymen on the battlefield, lobbing salvos in an attempt to score victory over the other women. Because ladies weren't supposed to discuss politics or religion, or inquire about a man's financial position, the women chattered endlessly about topics of no interest. Heaven forbid they be deemed schemers searching for a suitable mate.

Mrs. Howard, however, yearned to know everything about Richmond society, and she had few qualms about someone's impression of her. She had asked him once if he found her curiosity vulgar. He assured her he did not. Instead, he found her fascination with his town a step in the right direction.

Elliott was packing his papers into his worn leather satchel when a knock at this office door commanded his attention.

“Excuse me, sir. I know you're eager to leave this afternoon, this being the last Friday before Christmas… ” his aide paused, looking nervous.

“What is it, Lieutenant? I'm still here, aren't I?”

“A woman is here to see you. She wouldn't give me her name, but she talks rather strangely.”

Elliott's head snapped up.
A woman—has Mrs. Howard decided to pay me a call?
“I wouldn't describe the lack of an affected drawl as strange, Lieutenant,” he said. “You may show her in.” He slicked a hand through his hair and buttoned his uniform up to his throat. When the woman entered his office, Elliott was wearing his widest smile.

But she was not Madeline Howard.

“Good afternoon, Colonel, sir. I don't 'spose you remember me. I'm Kathleen O'Toole. I work for Mr. Duncan over on Forsythia?” She blinked several times while fidgeting with her bonnet ribbons. The brim was so wide she had to turn her head to look left or right.

Elliott tried not to show his disappointment. “What can I do for you, Mrs. O'Toole? Would you like to have a seat?” He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.

“It's Miss, and I'd best not sit.” The woman slid her palms down her skirt, drawing attention to two dark stains on the fabric. “Seeing that the
Duncans don't know I'm here.” She giggled as though amused by her comment.

Elliott found nothing funny as he sat down. “Perhaps you should explain the reason for your visit. I have a pressing engagement later this evening.”

Miss O'Toole's grin faded. “I'm the maid. I knows all 'bout the suppers before singing Christmas songs. The three of us got a devil of a time figuring out who owns those bowls they leave behind to wash.”

Elliott merely stared silently at her. Any comments from him would only delay whatever business this woman felt she had.

“But I seen a couple things since you started calling on a regular basis. You and that nice Major Penrod. He seems quite smitten by Miss Eugenia, don't he?” Miss O'Toole arched her spine, pleased with her observation.

Elliott's jaw dropped open.
This maid dares to comment about Miss Duncan and a respected member of Jefferson Davis's elite staff?
“I have accepted Mr. Duncan's gracious invitations to dine, but I fail to understand what concern that is of yours, Miss O'Toole.”

Paling to the color of watered milk, the scrawny maid shifted her weight to the other hip. “I'm not stupid, Colonel. I got eyes in me head, the same as anybody. I see you might be a wee bit smitten with that Yankee, Miz Howard. Thought you better have a look-see at this letter I found.” She withdrew a wrinkled envelope from under her frayed shawl and held it out to him.

“What have you done?” For several moments, Elliott sat stunned by the woman's boldness. No servant of the Haywoods—neither slave nor free—would ever overstep common decency in such a way.

When he made no move to accept her offering, she laid it on top of his scattered papers. “Somethin' I thought I needed to.”

Helpless to stop himself, Elliott peered at the water-stained handwriting. The letter was addressed to Mrs. Madeline Howard in care of the Duncan residence with a return address of only two lines: Major General James Downing, Army of the Potomac—Fourth Corps.
A major general, while I'm only a brevetted colonel?
“Where did you get this?” he asked, finally rousing from his stupor.

“From Miz Howard's room.” The maid's lower lip began to tremble,
evidence her bravado was slipping. “You should read it, sir. That there's a love letter. I might not be long off the boat, but I'm a Southerner. She's not playing you right. That man says he loves her and countin' the days till the war's over. What she doin' here in Richmond if she got some Yankee general sweet on her?”

The colonel didn't know what to say, where to begin. His life thus far hadn't prepared him for this. Because she was an employee of John Duncan's, throttling her would be inappropriate. Slapping the presumptuous, ill-bred woman across the mouth was also out of the question. His sweet mother would turn over in her grave. Yet on the other hand, this sort of behavior could not be tolerated or Miss O'Toole would take encouragement from his inaction.

Pushing himself up from the desk, Elliott stood and straightened to his full height of six feet in an attempt to intimidate her. “You have made a grievous error if you assumed I would welcome an act of thievery by a maid. If I make your actions known to Mr. Duncan, you would be immediately turned out into the streets. I would imagine plenty of freed slaves seek domestic positions in the city.”

His comment released the wind from the woman's sails. Her eyes turned moist and glassy.

“I will assume you were motivated by loyalty and patriotism to the Confederacy, and so I will overlook this travesty this one time. But any further intrusion into Mrs. Howard's private life will not be tolerated. I will insist the Duncans fire you on the spot.”

Kathleen's hands bunched into fists, but she kept her voice controlled. “I understand, sir.”

“Even though it's none of your concern, Miss O'Toole, Mrs. Howard has already told me of her affection for someone else. As friends, she and I are respectful of each other's political opinions and well aware that they differ. Furthermore, Mrs. Howard is Mrs. Duncan's niece—blood kin. I suggest you return her personal property posthaste and don't ever overstep your bounds like this again.” Narrowing his eyes into a glare, he pushed the envelope to the edge of the desk.

Miss O'Toole hesitated only for a moment. “All right, I'll put it back
where I found it.” She grabbed the letter, jammed it into a pocket, and ran out the door.

It took a while before Elliott's heart stopped pounding and murderous thoughts no longer filled his mind. How he'd yearned to read the contents, to determine whether Madeline's paramour was truly a man of flesh and blood. Until now, he'd deluded himself that her mystery beau was nothing but a coquettish ploy. But in the end, he behaved as a gentleman because she had behaved honorably. She hadn't deceived him. She'd said from the beginning that her heart belonged to another man.

Although not personally acquainted with General Downing, Elliott had heard about the commander of the Union Army's Fourth Corps. His valor on the battlefield, including a penchant for leading instead of ordering troops to the front, was legendary.
Of course, a general becomes an easy target for artillery or a sharpshooter's bullet while sitting on his horse.
Elliott immediately shook off the cruel, un-Christian notion. He wouldn't wish another man dead merely because he desired a woman.

A second, more helpful thought came to mind. This Kathleen O'Toole might be the reason that pompous newspaperman had cast aspersions on Mrs. Howard. Yet for now, Elliott would do nothing about the audacious maid. The last thing he wanted was to seriously upset John Duncan or Mrs. Howard with Christmas less than a week away.

Madeline searched through her bureau for the third time. In exasperation, she overturned the drawer onto her bed and dug through her camisoles, bloomers, and chemises, but still couldn't find it.

She'd tucked the letter from General Downing under her underpinnings after rereading it a half dozen times. How could it disappear into thin air? She planned to dash off a reply and then head down to the neighborhood supper before caroling. With the Duncans out for the evening, perhaps Micah would have a chance to check the docks for the
Bonnie Bess
. With the recent spate of rain, perhaps Captain George hadn't made his usual run up the Chesapeake Bay and back.

Hope sprang eternal for women in love.

Madeline sprawled across the bed amid the assortment of clothing and tried to think. Her aunt and uncle had never ventured into her room since she'd taken up residence. As far as she knew, Esther had entered only once. But the cook would have no reason to remove the letter because she had been the one to deliver it. That left Eugenia or Kathleen. And one of the two suspects just strolled into her bedroom.

“Goodness, what on earth are you doing? You're already dressed for the evening. Why are you looking for more… underpinnings?” Eugenia giggled behind her hand.

Madeline rolled her eyes. “I'm searching for something that was hidden underneath them. By any chance have you seen a letter addressed to me?”

“A letter from a secret admirer?” Eugenia fluttered her lashes. “Who from?”

“If I told you, it would no longer be a secret. And a lady never tells.” Madeline pressed an index finger to her lips.

“Oh, what great fun. No, I didn't rummage through your bureau, but I will help you look.” Eugenia unceremoniously picked up fistfuls of dainties, shook them, and tossed them back into the drawer.

Madeline stopped her with a gentle hand. “I didn't think you would do something like that, but I had to ask. I'm certain where I put the letter and now it's gone.”

Eugenia needed less time to guess than it took to put the drawer back in place. “I imagine it was that loathsome Kathleen. I've caught her pulling faces behind Mama's back. And she's always creeping silently around the house as though trying to catch me… or you… in some naughty act. What does she think we do when no one's watching?”

“Kathleen was my choice too.” Madeline perched on the blanket chest. “But I dare not accuse her with not a shred of proof. She wouldn't find another service position without Aunt Clarisa's recommendation.”

“You can't ask Kathleen now because nobody knows where she is. Mama is fit to be tied. Neighbors and ladies from her guild will arrive within the hour, along with several members of the home guard, and our maid isn't here to help Esther and Micah.”

Madeline felt a frisson of anxiety for no reason. “Where do you suppose she went?”

“She told Mama she had a personal errand that couldn't wait until her day off, but she would be back shortly.” Eugenia leaned close to whisper. “Perhaps ‘shortly' has a different meaning in Dublin than it does in America.”

“Don't be unkind.” Madeline scolded with little enthusiasm. “She still struggles with the English language.”

“Let's worry about Kathleen later. Come help me pick out my jewelry for tonight. Major Penrod has already seen this piece twice.” She fingered the broach on her bodice.

“You look beautiful, Genie. If your mother is worried about tonight, why don't we go downstairs and lend a hand?”