by Ginny Dye
Matthew became aware other people were listening. Angry eyes glittered at him as he finished speaking. “Never mind,” he said shortly. “I’m all too familiar with journalists and writers who use words to create whatever reality they want to.” He held up his hand as Paul, his eyes glittering with angry satisfaction, attempted to say something. “I’m sorry to bring discord into tonight’s party, but I find I have had my fill of fiction disguised as journalism,” he said grimly. Matthew looked down as he felt a warm hand on his arm.
“And I find I have worn out my husband,” Abby said lightly. “Can I talk you into dancing with an old woman while he recovers?”
Matthew managed a smile, recognizing her offer to remove him from the conversation. He grasped it eagerly. “I would be delighted, Mrs. Cromwell.” He turned back to Paul. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said cordially, only his eyes still flashing anger.
He led Abby onto the floor. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Abby smiled up at him. “I have no idea what you were talking about, but since I know Paul Sawyers works for the Richmond Examiner, I was quite sure the conversation would do nothing but make you angry. I read the Examiner occasionally just to see what nonsense they are publishing now. I would like to ignore it, but I find knowledge, no matter how distasteful it is, is better than ignorance.”
Matthew wanted to lose himself in the music, but the anger was still burning too hot. “You’ve heard of Edward Pollard’s new book?”
“The Lost Cause: A New Southern History of the War of the Confederates. Yes, I’ve heard about it,” Abby replied calmly, only her eyes showing her disgust. “It hasn’t come out yet, but I’ve heard conversations around it.”
“They’re attempting to rewrite history,” Matthew said grimly.
“Yes. Things didn’t end well for the South. They are attempting to save face.”
“With lies.”
“Yes, with lies,” Abby agreed. “But there is just enough truth to confuse people and make them believe what he has written.”
Matthew ground his teeth. “It’s wrong.” He stared down at Abby. “How can you remain so calm?”
“Who says I am?” Abby smiled gently. “Right now your emotions are strong enough for both of us. I can put a cap on mine to make sure we don’t get thrown out on the streets.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m not done dancing.”
Matthew laughed and spun Abby in a tight circle before he dipped her almost to the floor. “Is this better?” he teased.
“Much!”
Abby’s bright laughter erased the remnants of Matthew’s anger. Tonight was a night for dancing.
When the song ended, Abby glanced over at the drink table. “Who is the lovely woman Jeremy is with?”
Matthew shook his head. “I was going to ask you. You usually know everything.” He frowned playfully. “You disappoint me, Mrs. Cromwell. Is marriage keeping you too occupied?”
Abby smiled demurely. “It is rather splendid,” she admitted, her eyes locked on Jeremy. “Let’s go find out,” she said suddenly, steering Matthew toward the corner.
Jeremy smiled when he saw Abby and Matthew headed their way. He had wondered how long it would take before curiosity got the best of his sister-in-law. Carrie was far too absorbed in dancing with Robert to notice anything else, or she would have already approached him.
“Hello, Abby. Matthew. I’d like you to meet Marietta Anderson.”
“A pleasure,” Abby said warmly. Matthew echoed her greeting. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around town, Miss Anderson.”
“Probably not,” Marietta agreed. “I keep rather busy teaching your employees when they’re not working.”
Abby’s eyes widened. “You’re a teacher from the Missionary Society!” she exclaimed. “That’s wonderful.”
“So says the only other Yankee woman in the room,” Marietta said with wry amusement.
Abby laughed with delight. “We are definitely the minority here tonight, which only makes us more special.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Marietta replied. Her expression grew more serious. “It is quite an honor to meet you, Mrs. Cromwell. I tried to meet you in Philadelphia but never had the opportunity.”
“You’re from Philadelphia?” Abby asked. “I’m so sorry we didn’t meet before.”
Jeremy listened closely, wanting to learn as much about Marietta as he could.
“I imagine you stayed quite busy running all your factories and coordinating activities for both abolitionism and women’s rights.” Marietta laughed at Abby’s expression. “I never met you, but you have been a mentor to me for several years.”
Abby grasped her hand warmly. “Then I’m so glad to finally have a chance to get to know you.” She smiled over at Jeremy. “I see you have met my brother-in-law.”
“Who is relieved to find Marietta is a fan of yours, Abby,” Jeremy replied. “I’ll take any help I can get.”
“Help?” Marietta asked.
“Well, yes,” Jeremy said easily, his blue eyes filled with warm humor under his thick thatch of blond hair. “Since I was just going to ask you if I could see you again, it’s good to know you approve of my family.”
Marietta laughed heartily. “Anyone who dances like you doesn’t need family approval,” she assured him.
“Then that is a yes?” Jeremy pressed.
Marietta smiled demurely, though her eyes flashed with amusement. “That’s a yes, Mr. Anthony.” She turned to Matthew when the music started again. “Jeremy mentioned wanting to dance with Mrs. Cromwell. Can I convince you to dance?”
“No convincing needed,” Matthew assured her. “How else will I get to press you for information?”
“Ah,” Marietta eyed him. “You must be the journalist Jeremy said was with him tonight.”
“Guilty as charged,” Matthew said as he swept her onto the dance floor.
Abby smiled up at Jeremy. “She’s lovely.”
Jeremy watched her dance away. “Very.”
Abby laughed. “You look quite smitten, my boy.”
Jeremy continued to watch Marietta for a long moment and then looked back at Abby, his smile rather puzzled. “I do believe I am,” he murmured.
Carrie was gasping for breath after a rousing Virginia reel with her father. “I thought you were supposed to slow down when you got older,” she said. “I could barely keep up with you out there!”
Thomas smiled smugly. “Forty-five is not old, my dear daughter. I prefer to think of myself as mature and wise.”
“And a fabulous dancer,” Abby added, sliding up to his side before she tucked her arm into his. “Did you happen to mention to Carrie that you sat out for three dances to get some rest?” she asked, batting her eyes at him.
Thomas scowled. “I thought a good wife was supposed to keep her husband’s secrets.”
“Then you should have chosen a wife who is not a Yankee women’s rights activist,” she retorted.
Carrie laughed as her father rolled his eyes. As much as he had loved her mother, she had never seen him have such unbridled fun. “Sat out for three dances?” she asked. She held out her hand as the orchestra broke into another reel. “Ready for an encore?” she asked sweetly.
Thomas groaned and shook his head. “Food. I need food.”
Carrie nodded her head, her eyes bright with amusement. “Whatever you say, my mature and wise father. When you’ve had enough rest, you’ll know where to find me.”
“Which is with me on the dance floor,” Robert said as he finished a dance with Mrs. Manson and returned to claim Carrie. He nodded his head toward Jeremy. “Who is Jeremy with?”
Carrie turned in surprise and eyed the attractive redhead. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Her name is Marietta Anderson,” Abby informed them. “She’s a teacher down in the black quarter.”
“She’s very pretty,” Carrie murmured, somewhat amused by the expression on Jeremy’s face. “My uncle seems rather smitten.”
“He says he is,” Abby agreed. “I just met Marietta, but she seems quite lovely.”
Carrie kept her eyes on Jeremy as Robert led her out onto the dance floor. “I like the idea of Jeremy being smitten,” she said quietly. She decided not to say the rest of what she was thinking.
Carrie was starving when she and Robert finally left the dance floor. “I need food,” she moaned.
“You should after four hours of dancing,” Robert replied playfully.
Carrie’s eyes flew to the ornate grandfather clock in the corner. “Four hours? No wonder I’m so hungry.” She bit back a groan. “That could also explain why my feet are hurting so badly.”
Robert frowned when he looked down at her feet. “It could have something to do with the shoes you are wearing.”
“They are ghastly,” Carrie admitted, “but they are the height of fashion. I considered tossing them aside so I could dance in my stocking feet, but I was afraid people would be appalled.”
“Not that you seem to be bothered by what society thinks!”
Carrie turned as a snide voice broke into their conversation. She blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”
Staring back at her with cold brown eyes was an elegantly dressed woman, a censoring expression on her lined face. “I said you seem not to care what society thinks, Mrs. Borden,” the woman snapped boldly.
“Do I know you?” Carrie asked carefully, glancing longingly at the table full of food.
“I don’t imagine so,” the lady sniffed. “You seem to have no interest in proper southern women. You certainly have no interest in being one.”
Carrie bit back a giggle. She could certainly not argue with the truth of the woman’s statement. She was also certain a giggle would not be appreciated. Obviously, the woman was deeply offended.
“Do you have a problem with my wife, Mrs…?” Robert asked, stepping closer to Carrie’s side.
“Mrs. Phoebe Wallington,” the older lady said primly. “I would say you should be the one with a problem with your wife.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Robert said calmly, only his eyes showing his irritation.
“Surely you’re not pleased that your wife is leaving you to go north to attend medical school.” Mrs. Wallington snapped. “I suppose her service during the war was admirable, but the war is over. The South will only survive and return to its former glory if southern wives take their proper place in society.”
Carrie fought back another desire to giggle. She was opening her mouth to respond, but Robert answered first.
“My wife’s service during the war was not admirable,” he said smoothly. “It was blatantly heroic. She saved hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives by being willing to go against proper society and use the skills and talents she has been given. As far as how I feel about her going to Philadelphia to medical school, I could not be more proud of her.” His voice tightened. “If you feel you are being a proper southern woman by being cruel and judgmental, then I am completely relieved my wife is choosing something different.”
Mrs. Wallington was rendered speechless for a long moment, her slack mouth gaping open with astonishment. Add in her bulging eyes, and she looked rather like a fish out of water.
Carrie decided there was really nothing she needed to add to Robert’s statement. “If you’ll excuse us,” she said graciously. “We are quite famished after a long evening of dancing.” She smiled up at Robert. “Shall we go now, my darling?”
Robert grinned down at her, his eyes shining with satisfaction. “Lead the way, Mrs. Borden.”
“Well…I never!” Mrs. Wallington finally managed as they turned away.
Carrie made no effort to hide her giggle this time. “That was quite impressive, Mr. Borden.”
Robert smiled broadly. “She should have known better than to mess with a hungry man’s wife.”
Abby was standing by the table, holding out plates to them when they arrived. “Well done, Robert,” she stated, her eyes warm with approval.
Robert reached for the plate eagerly. “Doing battle with arrogance has increased my appetite,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Abby murmured to Carrie.
“Don’t be,” Carrie replied. “I’d best get used to it.”
“It won’t be so bad in Philadelphia,” Abby replied.
“It’s every bit as bad,” Carrie replied casually. “I get letters from Janie once a week. She and her housemates deal with much worse than rude women. They have been spit on and mocked in the streets. People harangue them when they go into class, and male doctors treat them like they don’t exist.”
“Carrie!” Abby cried.
“It doesn’t matter,” Carrie said earnestly. “I’ve never thought it was going to be easy. You once told me that being a pioneer never is. Wasn’t it you that got spat on outside of an abolition meeting?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing,” Carrie said firmly. “Women all over the country are going to have to endure treatment like this to bring about change. I’m just one of many.” She smiled. “At least I’m not alone.”
Abby gazed at her for a moment and returned her smile, linking their arms firmly. “No, my dear, you are not alone.”
“And I find I have even more to admire about this family.”
Carrie turned to identify the strange voice. She smiled at the redhead standing behind her with a plate of food, Jeremy close to her side. “You’re Marietta,” she said warmly. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
Marietta laughed. “News travels fast around here.”
“You’re in the South,” Carrie replied. “We’re known for being nosey and intrusive.”
“As well as strong and resilient,” Marietta added. “You’re going to be a doctor?”
Carrie nodded. “I start medical school in Philadelphia this April.”
“I have two friends in school there,” Marietta revealed. “You’re going to love it.”
Carrie laughed and linked arms with her. She smiled up at Jeremy. “I’m going to steal Marietta for a few minutes,” she informed him. “I have some questions.”
Jeremy shook his head sadly. “And just like that I lose my dinner date.”
“Robert and Matthew will keep you company,” Carrie said blithely, without a hint of remorse in her voice. “Come with me, Marietta. It’s time you got to know the women in this family.”
Chapter Nine
“Are you sure you want to walk home?” Jeremy asked. “There is enough room in the carriage.”
“Too frigid out here for a southern boy?” Marietta teased. “This is hardly cold compared to a Philadelphia winter.”
Jeremy laughed and held out his arm. “I’ll be escorting Miss Anderson home,” he called to Thomas. The thought of walking back afterwards presented no problem at all. He would do anything to have more time with her.
Lantern light flickered on the sidewalk as they headed south toward Marietta’s boarding house. The wind had died away completely, rendering the surrounding trees into mute statues frozen in place. Candles flickered in a few windows, but the late hour assured most of the dwellings were completely dark and the streets were deserted. Fragrant smoke from fireplaces created a swirling fog for the stars gleaming through.
“It’s such a beautiful night,” Marietta murmured.
“That it is,” Jeremy agreed, his eyes never leaving her face. “Tell me more about yourself.”
“Let me think what I should admit to,” Marietta replied, her eyes dancing. “I am the youngest of five children. The only girl with four brothers.”
Jeremy lifted his eyebrows. “Which means you are either horribly spoiled or very independent.” He cocked his head as he appraised her. “I’m going to go with very independent.”
“Definitely,” she confirmed. “My brothers were good to me, but we grew up out in the country. They had no desire to take care of the weaker sex, so they made sure I wasn’t weaker. I did everything they did. It was ex
pected. I have no patience with women who believe they must have a man to take care of them.” She lifted her chin. “I have been a member of the women’s rights movement since I was eighteen.”
“Is that a warning?” Jeremy asked with amusement.
“Does it need to be one?”
Jeremy laughed loudly. “I imagine you and Carrie got along well during dinner. The two of you are very much alike.”
“Does that bother you?” Marietta asked, watching him closely.
Jeremy stopped and turned Marietta to face him. “Let’s get this out of the way, Miss Anderson. I grew up in the South, but I’ve never been what you would call a traditional southerner. My father made sure of that. I believe women can do anything men can do, and I believe they should have the right to vote. I will continue to fight for civil rights for blacks, and for the freedom for them to have the vote.” He paused, not free to reveal his activities with the secret societies. “Does that cover the most important things for the moment?”
Marietta smiled at him warmly. “I believe it does, Mr. Anthony.”
Jeremy opened his mouth again, but then hesitated.
“Mr. Anthony?”
Jeremy stared over her head into the deep shadows beyond the cast of the lanterns, feeling that he was moving into an area of conversation he had no light to navigate. He had just met Marietta. There was no need to tell her any more than he already had.
“Is something wrong?” Marietta pressed.
Jeremy’s thoughts raced as he pondered how much to reveal. On the one hand, they barely knew each other. On the other hand, he was already sure Marietta could be very special to him. Was it fair to move forward without full disclosure?
“Why did you choose to be a teacher?” he asked, hoping her answer would give him time to decide what he was willing to say.
Marietta gazed at him. Her expression said she knew he was stalling, but she played along. “I’ve wanted to be a teacher since I was a child,” she revealed. “My mother pushed me to learn as much as I could. She didn’t have the opportunity for education until she came north with my father. She had been taught how to read, but the rest of her education had been on the things considered essential to being a gracious southern woman,” she said wryly. “When she was exposed to my father’s library, she couldn’t get enough of knowledge. She taught me from a very early age to treasure knowledge and learning. I became a teacher four years ago, as soon as I finished school.” She paused. “My father became an abolitionist at the beginning of the movement in the Thirties. He fought for years for the slaves to be freed. When the war ended, he supported my desire to teach in the south. The Missionary Society asked me if I would come to Richmond to teach. Here I am.”