The Lady and the Officer (29 page)

“See that pine forest on the hill? I'll race you to the top.” Madeline pointed one gloved finger. Without waiting for a response, she gave Bo a light kick and took off like a flash of lightning.

Although mounted on a larger, faster horse, James stayed behind her, content to watch her braid bouncing against her wool jacket. Once they reached the summit, a sunlit patch on the forest floor beckoned invitingly. “Shall we stop a moment?” he called.

Breathless, Madeline brought Bo to a halt. After slipping from the saddle, she tied her reins to a low branch. “I beat you, sir, fair and square.”

“To the victor go the spoils.” James dismounted and then pulled a wrapped parcel from his saddlebag.

Madeline was already reposing on her elbows in the clearing. “We're in luck. These pine needles are dry. What have you brought me?”

“Apples and cheese.” He tossed her the parcel.

She set it aside. “Along with corn, that's the usual fare in Richmond. What I wouldn't give for a slice of strawberry pie.”

“Far better than hardtack and dried jerky.”

“Forgive me. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful for Mrs. Lang's or my aunt's hospitality.”

“You didn't. In fact, I doubt that you could.” He tugged off his gloves to feel the thick needles between his fingers.

“You flatter me, dear brother, but your praise has no basis.” Madeline laid back and focused to the patch of sky overhead. “It's beautiful here. I may be tempted to linger for some time.”

Stretching out beside her, James savored the sun on his face after weeks of cloudy days. “If I didn't long so much for home, this part of Virginia might appeal to me.”

Cupping her hands behind her head, she closed her eyes. “Let's enjoy the peace and quiet for a while. It has been in short supply for both of us.”

But she didn't remain mute for long. Sitting up abruptly, she pawed through the pine needles where she'd lain. “I felt something hard beneath my head. Here. What do you suppose this is?” She held up a silver medallion at the end of a long chain.

James examined the necklace in the dappled light. “It's a Saint Christopher medal. Our Irish housekeeper had one just like it when I was growing up.”

“Beautiful, isn't it? I'm not familiar with Saint Christopher.”

“He is the patron saint of travelers. Our housekeeper believed wearing one offered protection on long journeys.” James deftly slipped the heavy chain over her head, letting it fall against her dress. “There, my dear, now the good saint will keep you safe.”

“Do you think it will work for Episcopalians?”

“Only those as God-fearing and gentle as you.” Impetuously, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

“I wonder about the health of the person who lost it here.” His kiss, no different than one bestowed by her grandmother, sent shivers up her spine. Flustered, Madeline pressed the metal to her lips. “Goodness, James, the day grows colder by the minute. Since neither of us is hungry, let's be off.” She scrambled to her feet and started back to where he'd tied the horses.

He grabbed the wrapped parcel of food and followed her. When he reached her side, he took off his frock coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Wear this for the ride back to town. I'm far more accustomed to the cold than you are.”

“Thank you. And thank you for recovering my horse, but I'm not sure what to do with her.” She mounted Bo as easily as she'd slipped off.

“Have no worries about her. I'll keep her safe in camp with me.”

They set off in the direction they had come in a full gallop. Neither reined in their horse until reaching the inn in Culpeper. While they rode, Madeline slipped the newfound medallion into the breast pocket of his coat, buttoning it securely.

At the inn, he reached for her reins and dismounted his gelding. “When I return to our winter camp, where will you go? It's not safe to stay here. There are too many battles, too many skirmishes in this part of Virginia. Shall I arrange transportation for you to Philadelphia to the home of my parents?”

“No. I've decided to return to Richmond. It wasn't my intention when I left, but I've changed my mind.”

“What on earth for? It's even less safe there.”

“I can be of service in the Confederate capital.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“But the Duncans won't trust you after coming here. They might assume you carried military information and have you arrested.” James took hold of her chin. “I cannot allow such dangerous behavior.”

Madeline jerked away from him. “You have no say-so in the matter, any more than my Uncle John. And goodness knows, he tried to prevent my trip here. In fact, you're starting to remind me of Uncle John more and more.”

“Surely you have other relatives or friends up North. If not, why don't you return to Cashtown? I can pay Reverend Bennett and his wife for your expenses until the war is over.”

She shook her head. “Certainly not, sir. I will not be kept by a man, whether in a preacher's house or not.”

“Be reasonable, Madeline.” James gripped his hat between his fingers, the brim paying a dear price for his anxiety.

Her expression softened. “You risk your life every day to serve the Republic. A cavalry scout in Chimborazo Hospital told me you were shot near Remington. How is your wound?”

“My shoulder is just fine. It's nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“Only by the grace of God was your life spared. The citizens of Richmond won't hang me for visiting a beau in Culpeper.”

“What if I send for my adjutants and have you incarcerated? I would do almost anything to keep you safe.”

“I'll be gone before your soldiers arrive.” She reached for his hand. “Try to understand, James. I'm not the same peevish woman you first met who fumed about horses trampling her hollyhocks. I'm loyal to the Union, and I have a right to help my country.”

Words escaped him—the irrefutable logic, the convincing argument that would change her mind. Wearily he hung his head.

“If it's our destiny to be together, God will make it so. But if not, then it matters little if I die in Richmond, or in in Cashtown, or in a train wreck somewhere between here and Gordonsville.”

He met her gaze. “Please don't say such things.”

She stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Please don't go to the station with me. A long goodbye on the platform will make parting that much harder.” She hugged him gently and then pulled away.

But in one reckless maneuver James pulled her into his arms and kissed her squarely on the mouth.

When their lips parted at last, she fluttered her lashes. “Goodness, General Downing. Now you will be impossible to forget.”

“That's what I had in mind.”

“And you know I'm awfully fond of that horse. I plan on seeing you both again.” With that, she ran up the steps of the boarding house, retrieved her bag, and left for the station without another word. She hurried away from Mrs. Lang's, and Culpeper, and the protection of the Union Army.

And there wasn't a thing James could do to stop her.

S
IXTEEN

 

Richmond, Virginia

M
adeline stepped off the train late in the afternoon on Monday. Having slept the previous night in her clothes and without a bath since Mrs. Lang's inn, she felt miserable. A hard bench in the Gordonsville station had been her sole option for Sunday night. Every boarding house was either filled or closed for repairs due to damage from recent battles. The packet of apples and cheese James forced her to take had provided her only sustenance.

How foolish she had been to leave on a Sunday.

How foolish she had been to leave Richmond at all. What had she expected from James? Did she wish him to abandon his sworn duty to the Union and whisk her away to the Western territories? As a man in command, he could no more change his fate than she could. But at least she'd seen for herself that he was well and that his wound had healed. And she'd heard his sweet pledges of fidelity. Yet his words and promises had little place in a world gone mad.

Monday morning the soldiers at the Gordonsville station finally permitted her to board an eastbound train. But she'd been forced to utter a passel of lies.

She had been tending a dying relative in Culpeper.

She needed to travel to Richmond to see a relative who was lingering at death's door.

Falsehoods and fabrication came easier these days than the truth, adding to her already heavy burden of shame, but if she could help James it would be worth it. The Union Army must prevail. The Republic must be restored and slavery abolished. Then the country could finally fulfill the rights and freedoms promised in the Constitution.

Yet her lofty ideals provided little comfort during the long walk from the train station to Forsythia Lane. Staggering from hunger and fatigue, Madeline opened the front door without waiting for someone to answer her knock. Inside the mansion's ornate center hall, she was instantly filled with a sense of relief. At least for the foreseeable future, she was home.

“Mrs. Howard!” Micah exclaimed. Spotting her from the drawing room doorway, the butler hurried to take her valise. “Mrs. Duncan has been so afraid you weren't coming back because you would marry your Yankee beau. She's been moping around the house, and Miss Eugenia has been crying and fussing for two days.”

“As you can see, I have returned a single woman.” Madeline forced a smile for him. “Things between my beau and I didn't turn out well, so there will be no elopement anytime soon. I hope Aunt Clarisa is willing to take me back.”

“Don't you worry about that, ma'am.” Micah gave her a bright smile. “I'll send Kathleen to get your room ready. You go on to the kitchen. Esther has some soup and cornbread leftover from supper.”

Madeline held out her hands for inspection. “What I really need is to scrub for an hour. Trains and depots are not very tidy places.”

“You can wash your face and hands at Esther's kitchen tub. I know you must be a tad hungry, ma'am. So you go on now.” He started up the stairs with her bag.

A tad hungry?
That was the understatement of the day. James's apples and cheese seemed a distant memory, as though eaten days ago. Shuffling into the kitchen, Madeline let Esther question, scold, and chatter while she stuck her face and arms into a bucket of fresh well water. However, Madeline had less than five minutes for her
toilette
before Aunt Clarisa and Eugenia bustled into the room. Both were wearing belted silk robes indicating they had already retired for the evening.

“Is it really you or am I seeing a ghost?” Eugenia exclaimed as she flung herself at Madeline and enveloped her in a hug.

“I'm not fit to embrace at the moment, but yes, it is I. I'm not sure if I should launder this garment or burn it.”

The cook shook a finger at her. “I'll take care of that dress, Miz Howard. Sit down and eat. You can talk to your family in between bites. I think you're skinnier than before you left.”

“I couldn't have lost weight in two days, Esther.” Madeline managed to extract herself from Eugenia and slipped onto a kitchen chair. The bowl of onion soup the cook set before her smelled wonderful. Ladling up a spoonful, she felt her aunt's eyes boring into her forehead. “I've taken
great liberty assuming your home would remain open to me, Aunt. If you wish me to leave, I will. My behavior has been erratic, to be sure.” With her soup spoon held aloft, Madeline locked gazes with the older woman.

“Of course you're still welcome here, my dear. You're my sister's only child. My home will always be open to you.” She issued a dismissive snort. “Although I must admit I didn't think you would return in two days' time.”

“Did he jilt you, cousin?” asked Eugenia. “Did you discover him in the arms of another woman when you arrived? Or perhaps the gentleman had a wife he neglected to mention until now.” Her eyes grew rounder with each new possibility.

Aunt Clarisa's interruption precluded Madeline from responding. “Then he would be no gentleman! I forbid you from reading anymore of those sensational novels, Eugenia. I don't know why you read such rubbish when we have a library filled with good books.”

“Eat, Miz Howard,” Esther said softly, placing one of her large hands on Madeline's shoulder.

Madeline complied, peering from one Duncan woman to the other.

“How else would a girl learn about the devious minds of men?” Eugenia asked. “Now that I'm courting, I must be prepared for any mischief Joseph may try behind my back. Those comportment classes only taught me silly rules and manners. If not for books, I would know nothing about the game called love.”

Aunt Clarisa pointed one delicate finger at her daughter. “If I don't see you feeding those novels into Esther's cook stove tomorrow, I shall tell your father about your tawdry collection. Then you will read a few choice passages for his entertainment over teatime.”