Milly extracted herself from my arm. “I think if you depend on my remembering anything, you’re liable to be mortified.”
That was a threat if I’d ever heard one, but before I could reply, my aunt gestured toward the dining room. The rest of us followed her lead.
She touched me on the elbow as she passed. “I don’t think there would be any harm in it. I daresay we could all do with a reminder.”
There was triumph in Milly’s grin, and she quickly went to her friends, pointing toward the table as they conferred.
I decided to accept defeat gracefully. “The host is always first to the dining table, and he takes with him the lady who has the most status, which—” I might as well have been lecturing myself. None of the girls were in sight. “Girls?”
Seth and his friends stepped aside to let them pass.
“Girls!” I gestured Milly to my side and then took Phoebe by the hand and drew her close. “As I was saying, the host enters first and escorts the lady with the most status. It might be the oldest or it might be the one who has the higher position in society. For today, we’ll have it be the elder Miss Hammond.”
My uncle came and took up Phoebe’s hand.
“Now then, the host always sits at the foot of the table, and—”
Milly interrupted. “How do you know which end that is?”
“The foot is at the bottom, opposite the head.”
“They both look the same.”
“I’ve always thought that myself.” Otter might have thought he was whispering, but his voice carried, and one of my students began to giggle.
“But the foot is—” Taking in a deep breath, I smiled. “The foot is wherever your father sits. And generally he sits there.” I gestured to his accustomed seat. “Uncle?”
He went to stand behind his chair.
“This being a more informal sort of meal, the lady he escorts, being first among the ladies, will have her choice of seats.” I gestured to the chair next to her uncle. “The seat to the host’s right, however, is always considered the seat of greatest honor. Now then, the hostess will come in last and the most senior gentleman will escort her.”
Seth offered his arm to my aunt.
“And where do you think they will sit?” I asked the question of Milly, who didn’t take long in answering.
“I should think she’d sit at the head of the table and he right beside her . . . if they could figure out where that is!”
If there weren’t so many guests with us, I might have wrung her neck. “The rest of us would then pair up and walk into the dining room in the middle of the procession. We would take our seats based upon where the host’s partner has chosen to sit. If Miss Hammond prefers not to take the seat of honor at his right, then the next ranking lady may do so. That would be—”
“That would be you. Or my mother.” Milly smiled as if she deserved a prize.
“So it would.” I paired up the cadets and Bobby with the girls. My poor cousin was a bit too young yet to appreciate this opportunity. Perhaps I ought to have charged him with caring for Ella instead of leaving her in the kitchen with Susan. No use in dwelling on it now. “Generally speaking, married couples are not to sit together.” I sent a look in Bobby and Milly’s direction. He was furtively tugging at one of the ribbons that bound her braid. I moved to stand between them. “And probably not siblings either. And it’s best if ladies alternate with the gentlemen. You see? It’s all very simple.”
By the time everyone stood behind a chair, due to the uneven numbers, Phoebe and Milly stood next to each other. Seth and I were next to each other as well.
“Gentlemen, please assist the lady to your left in sitting. And now you may seat yourselves.”
As they sat, all eyes were on me.
“You must not think, gentlemen, that this is the end of your duties. We will depend on you for conversation throughout the meal. You may speak with those beside you as well as those directly across the table from you. Please do your best to avoid unpleasant topics.”
Milly piped up. “How do I know what’s unpleasant?”
“That’s a very good question. Even adults sometimes find it confounding. Politics, religion, and money are best avoided.”
“So I could talk about baseball if I wanted to?”
“If a gentleman asks you about baseball, you may feel free to respond.”
“Is Phoebe supposed to be the gentleman or am I?”
“At the moment, I have every expectation that you will both be ladies.”
Milly’s face fell. “Blast!”
Bobby laughed outright while the other girls giggled.
I felt quite in danger of exploding with frustration. Beneath the table, my hands were balled into fists. As I sat there trying to maintain my composure, Seth reached over and covered one of my hands with his own.
I glanced up at him, but he was looking down the table toward where my uncle sat. I turned my hand over and he grasped it, giving it a squeeze. “Please keep in mind that uncouth words are not appropriate at anytime, anywhere.”
“That’s why I was hoping to be a gentleman.”
Before I could respond, Seth came to my rescue. “Gentlemen don’t use such words, Miss Hammond. And neither do soldiers.”
Milly leaned back against the chair with a huff, but a glance from me made her scoot forward and sit up straight.
“Now then, let’s enjoy our meal.”
Seth withdrew his hand, but he leaned a bit closer, as if to adjust his silverware. “Stop worrying. You’re doing just fine.”
24
Seth
Lucinda’s dinner party was a success. Her girls might have been new to etiquette, but they did everything they were supposed to and, probably more importantly, nothing that they shouldn’t have. The fellows had enjoyed the food.
“Think you might be able to get us another invitation, General?” Otter was practically pleading as we walked back to the Point. “I haven’t had a pie like that since furlough last summer.”
“I wouldn’t mind the chance to have ham again before graduation.” Deke might shovel down his food at the mess hall, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. None of us did.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Even Dandy smiled at that.
But the good cheer didn’t last long once Deke turned the topic to me. “I was thinking . . . this campaign to help Seth fail is going to be tougher than we expected.”
Otter squinted in my direction. “How much tougher?”
“Looks like it’s going to require the ultimate sacrifice.”
Dandy’s brow bent in annoyance. “The ultimate sacrifice? What’s that?”
“I’ve come to the decision that we’ve got to take the long view on this.” He slid a look in my direction. “In case you didn’t realize, it takes quite a bit of work to become an Immortal.”
I agreed. Much more effort than I’d ever thought.
“I know you’ve all been helping when you can. And I’ve seen some brilliant use of strategy, but we’ve come to the point where the last full measure of our devotion is going to be required. Who’s with me?”
Otter didn’t hesitate. “I’m in.”
Dandy looked rather disgruntled at being required to sacrifice anything, but he declared himself committed as well. “So what’s the plan?”
“We’re going to have to start studying.”
Shouts echoed and birds lifted from the trees as the fellows protested vociferously. Otter even got quite heated in his opposition. “I mean, I like you and all, General, but some things you just can’t ask a man to do.”
Deacon was trying to regain control of the conversation. “This is the last resort. I wouldn’t ask it of you either if it weren’t truly necessary. Here’s the problem. No one’s been willing to give out enough demerits. They’re not taking any of this seriously. So if we can’t get Seth to the bottom honestly, we’re going to have to try and meet him halfway.”
Dandy had been
drinking from his flask, but now he screwed the top back on and hid it away in his coat. “Explain.”
“If Seth can’t get to the bottom on his own, then the bottom’s got to rise enough to meet him. Understand?”
Otter seemed to be trying to take it all in. “So . . . what you’re saying is we got to get better grades?”
“Exactly.”
“Then you oughter told us that to begin with. I wouldn’t have agreed to it.”
Dandy sent me a dark look. “Me neither. No offense, General.”
“None taken.”
Deacon raised a hand as if to preempt any more dissent. “It’s not going to be that hard, because I figure we’ve got our own personal tutor.”
Otter looked around as if he was trying to identify that someone. “Really? Who’s that?”
Deke grinned. “Seth.”
They were still Immortals, so mostly the tutoring sessions took place as they were getting ready for inspection, or running down the halls to make it to parade on time. By the middle of the next week, I finally had to protest. “If you mean to learn, you need to put some time into it. And some concentrated effort.”
Deacon lifted his head from the book I’d planted in front of his nose. “I agree.”
“You do?”
“I do. So I’ve arranged for a session with all of us.”
I wasn’t a naturally suspicious person, but this seemed to be going entirely too well. “When?”
“Tonight. After call to quarters.”
“After call to quarters? Where?”
“In Otter and Dandy’s room. But make sure you’re wearing your overcoat.”
My overcoat?
I was there, as ordered, wearing my overcoat. But I couldn’t make any sense of Deke’s instructions. We had just had our rooms inspected, and lights were expected to be extinguished. It was too late to go anywhere. “Where is it we’re going again?”
“We’re going again. Apparently you’re going for the first time.”
There weren’t too many places at the academy I’d never been. “Just tell me where.”
“Benny Havens.”
“No!”
Otter grabbed one of my arms and Dandy grabbed the other. Deacon followed along behind, talking all the while. “If you’re going to make us study, then we’re going to make you do it in a place amenable to our proclivities.”
“You could get dismissed for being caught at Benny’s. It’s strictly off limits.”
He opened the door, placing a finger in front of his lips. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper. “The only thing strict about it is Benny. I’m hoping he’ll take two of my candles in exchange for some whiskey.” He patted his coat, where I’m sure those two candles were stashed. “Benny’s been good to us. And he knows a thing or two about mathematics and the like, although I get the feeling civil engineering is a bit beyond the bounds of his expertise.”
We kept silent, to avoid the sentinels and tactical officer, as we tiptoed through the hall, down the stairs, and out the door. Then we hoofed it out across the Plain and made it to the hotel before we broke stride.
I didn’t have a good feeling about any of it. “What will we do if we run into some officers?”
“We’re not going to. And do you know why? They’ll expect us to try to sneak out the gate. But we’re going to take the path along the river.”
Once we’d gone beyond Flirtation Walk, the path along the river wasn’t truly a path. Unless you happened to be a goat. Beneath the nearly full moon, I couldn’t see any sign that anyone had ever walked along the cliffs there, but from the way Deacon and the fellows skirted the rocks and pointed out the most dangerous spots, it was clear they’d done it a time or two.
It pinched at the dignity of a man to have to run away under cover of darkness to do something other fellows his age could do in the daylight. A normal man could have walked the road to Buttermilk Falls any time he wanted to. He could have stayed all day even, and no one would have blinked if he bought himself a drink or two or three.
The fellows had to pull me back from falling into the river several times before we left the cliffs for the forest. Deacon held out an arm as we approached what looked like a road. “Let’s just take a listen for a minute.”
We all cocked an ear in the direction of the academy and listened for a long while before he declared it safe. Perhaps it was, but still, I cast a furtive glance over my shoulder before I joined the others.
After jogging down the road for several hundred yards, the fellows turned quite abruptly toward the river and then seemed to throw themselves off the face of a cliff.
“Deke?” I hissed his name as I approached the point where they’d disappeared.
“Down here!” His words came drifting up to me.
I could see a set of stairs built into the rock. They zigzagged down the face of the cliff.
As I descended, a chimney seemed to rise to greet me. From it curled a finger of smoke that smelled of food such as I hadn’t had since my last meal at the Hammonds. “Smells like—” I took another great whiff of it—“ham and bread and steak.” The chimney belonged to a ramshackle-looking house that had been built right up against the cliff.
Deacon hopped back up several steps to take my arm and tug me down the stairs. “Sooner we get there, the safer we’ll be. Don’t want to be taken by ambush when we’ve almost reached our goal.”
After sliding down the last of the steps, I followed the rest of them, ducking into the cottage. Inside was dark with very little moonlight filtering in through the single window, but a great fire was snapping in the hearth, spreading its orange glow about the room, which hosted a full crowd among its tables. As I glanced about I recognized many of the faces. Nearly half the cadets in my class were eating and drinking at Benny’s. To my shame, there were some second classmen among them too. But I soon realized no one seemed to care that I was there.
Deacon took hold of my elbow and dragged me toward the back of the room, where a woman was stacking plates behind a sort of counter. “Mrs. Havens? This here is Seth Westcott.”
She smiled and leaned forward to pat my cheek. “You poor, dear boy.” The look in her eye, the great sympathy in her voice, let me know she understood everything, every single day I’d spent at the Point.
I swallowed hard to keep an errant sob from leaping to my throat. Why hadn’t I come here before?
Sitting at a table, a bowl of soup in front of me, and a warming fire behind me, I had to think this was a foretaste of heaven. Beside me, Deacon drew a sheaf of papers from one sleeve and a pencil from another. “Gather round, fellows.”
Otter and Dandy both took another drink from their mugs and leaned in close.
Deacon cast a glance around the room before he continued in a low voice. “You don’t have to be too obvious about it, but I think what we’d most like to work on is constitutional law.”
“What?” In that place of sustenance and good cheer, talk of law and military tactics had very nearly become anathema. “Now? You want to talk about classwork here?”
“You going to help us or not?”
“I’ll help you. Just . . . let me enjoy this while it’s hot, will you?”
Deacon started on a cigar while Dandy worked his way through the tables toward the counter for another drink.
Once I’d finished, Otter stacked the mugs and dishes while I went to work explaining the concepts, writing them down. “Understand now?”
Deacon was nodding, but Dandy had long since lost interest, more intent on the conversation of a couple of cadets from Mississippi than he was on the lesson. Otter was staring at the piece of paper as if hoping it might turn into something else. “No. That is . . . you’d think folks oughter just do what’s right. Most folks want to—even those in Washington. But if the laws are this dad-blamed hard to understand, how are they going to do it?”
I sighed as I tried to think of a different way to explain things.
He eyed Deke.
“I just don’t know if this is going to work.”
If truth be told, I didn’t think it was going to work either. I was afraid I’d be stranded in the middle of the class, unwelcomed by the engineers, yet too far from the bottom to do myself any good. And what would become of me then?
25
Lucinda
My aunt and my students’ mothers were so pleased with the dinner party that they had begun touting me as a graduate of one of the West’s finest finishing schools, an expert on society and good manners. A genius at French and a fine hand at embroidery. My father couldn’t have done a better job campaigning for one of his schemes, and in spite of my protests, I soon had three more students for my thrice-weekly classes.
Perhaps I was earning money honestly, but a voice inside my head kept reminding me that I was a cheat and a fraud. If the town’s good citizens knew who I really was, they would keep their children far from me, in hopes that they would never learn any of the lessons that I could best teach. If I was a genius at anything, it was lying through my teeth, getting out of paying boarding school fees, manipulating people to get my way, and profiting from the poor decisions of others.
It was true, perhaps, that I knew more about polite society than anyone else in Buttermilk Falls, but who was I to teach anyone how to behave? How to conform to society’s expectations? I had defied, even gleefully broken, every convention of polite company. I was a sham. A sham who was succeeding brilliantly in making a new life for herself, but a sham nonetheless. Even when I was trying to be good, I was bad.
I cringed whenever I entered the doors of the church. I tried hard not to listen at night when my uncle read to the family from the Bible. The talk of love and mercy was so far from the life in which I’d been raised that it seemed fantastical. Irrelevant, even. It was no wonder my father found such ready takers in his schemes among church people. It was easy to believe in love and forgiveness when no one had ever harmed you. I had no doubt that, should my past become known, no one would offer to forgive my sins.
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