A Thousand Shall Fall

by Andrea Boeshaar

“But you can trust me.” Aunt Ruth’s smile was as warm and comforting as the oven-fresh bread and jam she’d eaten only minutes ago. “You should know, however, that I like to pamper and spoil my … companions.”

  “Pamper and spoil?” Those two words were quite foreign to Carrie, especially in reference to herself.

  Aunt Ruth opened the closet doors and pulled out the prettiest calico dress of beige and green. “I think this one will complement your hair coloring and complexion, don’t you?”

  “For me?”

  “Yes. And this one also.”

  Another dress, this one made of a dark blue and brown checkered print.

  “It complements your eyes, don’t you think?”

  “Auth Ruth, I can never repay you for these …”

  “They’re gifts. Besides, Eli believes you’re my niece. I can’t have my niece wearing—” She crossed the room and lifted the shoulder of the too-large dress that Miss Phoebe had bestowed on her last night. “Just where in the world did you acquire this dreadful garment?”

  “Um, well …” Carrie felt her face heating to a simmer.

  “And, no personal offense, but you reek of cheap perfume.”

  “Trust me, I smelled infinitely worse before soaking in bubbles last night.” But it seemed Joshua had been correct when he said she smelled like a saloon girl. “It’s a long story. You see, I was wearing a deserter’s uniform when Colonel Collier arrested me.”

  “Arrested you?” Aunt Ruth’s hazel eyes widened. “Good heavens!”

  “It was before he knew I was a female.”

  “Oh, my!”

  Carrie clamped her mouth shut. She’d rather remember Peyton’s gallantry over her folly. “Again, Aunt Ruth, it’s a long, involved tale. But I promise to tell you the specifics when I’m not so tired.”

  “Very well, I look forward to hearing them, my dear.” A spark of mischief entered her gaze. “All of them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” If any sophisticated matron could handle all of them without judging Carrie too harshly, Aunt Ruth probably could.

  “I’ll leave you to undress. Tabitha is filling a tub of hot water for you, and she’ll be in shortly to assist you with your bath.”

  Carrie waved away the offer. “Thank you, but I don’t require assistance.”

  “Perhaps not, but my pampered niece or companion does.”

  She didn’t dare argue. “Thank you.”

  With a smile Aunt Ruth walked to the bedroom door, her petticoats rustling with each step. “After your bath, Tabitha will help you into a nightgown in which you can comfortably nap. She’ll awaken you before teatime. Eli may be in attendance. I believe he has set his sights on you.”

  Carrie laughed. Certainly Aunt Ruth made her remark in jest.

  “I fail to see what’s amusing, my dear.” Aunt Ruth paused near the doorway. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but merely laden with curiosity. “Enlighten me.”

  “You mean to say you weren’t joking just now?”

  “I should say not. Eli asked me if you were promised to another. Clearly he’s interested in pursuing you.”

  Carrie’s jaw slacked. “Oh …” She stared at the blue draperies gracing the two long windows. How should she respond?

  “You’re surprised.”

  “Very. Men usually aren’t interested in me unless they’re waiting for me to serve their supper.”

  “Surely Peyton didn’t make you wait on him.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. But he’s different.”

  Aunt Ruth closed the bedroom door softly. “How so, if you don’t mind my asking. I mean … well, I guess I need to know if you’d like me to discourage Eli.”

  “Yes, please do discourage him.” Carrie’s heart was at least as stubborn as she was, and the only man she’d ever love was Peyton.

  But, of course, he was far above her station in life. He’d all but come right out and said so.

  “You’re promised to another, then?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Carrie lowered her chin. “Although I don’t expect anything will ever come of it.”

  “Peyton?”

  Carrie’s gazed snapped up a little too quickly. She met Aunt Ruth’s inquiring expression. A little, knowing smile worked its way across the older woman’s thin lips.

  “A schoolgirl infatuation, Aunt Ruth.” Carrie chose to make light of her feelings. “Your nephew is too charming for his own good.”

  “How well I know that! Peyton has Tabitha and me wrapped around his little finger—and it’s been that way since he was a toddler.”

  Carrie smiled. Humor felt better than the embarrassment causing her temperature to rise on this already too-warm August day.

  “You’re sure it’s just infatuation?”

  “Positive.”

  “You’re hardly a schoolgirl, Carrie Ann.”

  “All I meant was that I’m not very … experienced with matters of the heart. But you must know that Peyton—I mean, the colonel—never said or made me think there was ever anything more between us than a passing friendship. The colonel was always a gentleman to me.”

  “Except when he arrested you?” Aunt Ruth wore that same mischievous grin that Carrie glimpsed earlier.

  “Except then, but only because I was being stubborn.”

  “I see.” Aunt Ruth’s grin remained. “Well, perhaps I can shed a bit of light on your situation by confessing that never in my nephew’s life has he sent a young lady to our home and asked that I care for her—and she for me. That is, Peyton may have promised you a paying job so you’d come here, Carrie Ann, and he’ll pay you whatever wages he’s promised, have no doubt. But both Tabitha and I sensed Peyton had an ulterior motive for your visit, and our guess is that he has feelings for you too.”

  “Alas, I wish it were true, but I must respectfully disagree. I’m here for all the reasons I stated previously.” Carrie leaned against one of the bedposts. “Besides, Peyton concluded that working at the field hospital with the wounded and dying men was taking its toll on me, and maybe it was. You see, when I arrived, Peyton put me to work in the field hospital under Dr. LaFont’s supervision.”

  “Paul-Henri?” Aunt Ruth smiled. “He’s a dear friend.”

  “He saved Peyton’s life, as I understand.” Carrie realized her mistake. “I meant to say, he saved Colonel Collier’s life.”

  “You’ve slipped more than once, my dear. So … you and my nephew are on a first-name basis?”

  “Friends, nothing more.”

  “Carrie Ann, why would a colonel in the United States Army bother with you or any other young lady whom he apprehended, mistakenly or not, if he didn’t have feelings for you? Goodness, but Peyton could have passed you to one of his corporals and instructed him to deposit you at a nearby farm or church and be done with you.”

  The thought had crossed Carrie’s mind. And Aunt Ruth was right. Peyton’s debt to her would have been paid had he safely delivered her somewhere else after rescuing her from that tree.

  “As for Eli, I will strongly suggest that one of the other unattached ladies in Winchester is a better choice for him.” Aunt Ruth sighed dramatically. “My neighbor’s daughter, Lavinia, has her eye on him. Perhaps I’ll point out her finer attributes. I’m sure she has them.”

  “Lavinia?” Carrie knew that name. “Is she Peyton’s former fiancée?”

  Aunt Ruth arched a brow. “He shared that much with you, did he?”

  Carrie blushed.

  “Yes, she’s the very one.”

  “Is he still in love with her? He’s a changed man. Maybe he wishes he had a second chance …”

  Before Carrie could finish her sentence, Aunt Ruth was shaking her head. “No, my dear, Peyton never loved Lavinia. She trapped him into proposing marriage and then Peyton felt obligated to go through with it. What a blessed relief when she didn’t show up for the wedding.”

  “I’m not sure I would have either, considering Peyton’s actions.”

  Again, Aunt Ruth arched
a stately eyebrow.

  Carrie wasn’t winning her argument over Peyton’s intentions, and yet she refused to foster hopes that he regarded her as anything more than a trusted friend and employee.

  “Regardless, Carrie Ann, you make a good point. I’m not excusing my nephew’s actions years ago, but Lavinia is not without her flaws. Let’s just say that I’m ecstatic she is not my niece by marriage and leave it there.”

  “Is it cruel to encourage Colonel Kent to pursue her?”

  “Hmm … well, he is the enemy.” Aunt Ruth gave a deliciously wicked little laugh. “Seriously, though—Eli’s a grown man, and I’m confident that he can handle himself around the likes of Lavinia.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And to think that now I’ll have an ally in you when the Monteague women come to tea. You see, as a Negro, Tabitha isn’t acceptable company to my neighbors. I’m grateful Eli doesn’t regard her as a slave. Nevertheless, you can understand why I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I think you are awfully blessed to have a good friendship with Tabitha.” While she was rough around the edges, Carrie liked the older black woman who had served her lunch. “Papa had a good friend who was a free black man and a sharecropping farmer. Sometimes I’d pass away hours listening to him and my father talk. They’d drink cider and smoke their pipes. And I loved tagging along with Papa when he visited different communities in the Valley to get newsworthy stories for his paper. Papa and I spoke with all manner of people, and in general, I enjoyed keeping company with them all.” Carrie caught herself. “But I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

  “No. And how precious you are.” Wearing another warm smile, Aunt Ruth crossed the room and placed her palms on Carrie’s upper arms. “I do so look forward to getting to know you. But my suggestion for now, dear, is that you take your bath and have some rest.” Her smile vanished and frown lines appeared on her aged and powdered forehead. “Suffice it to say you’ll need your wits about you later when the Monteague ladies arrive.”

  “What are you cryin’ about, girl?”

  Carrie wasn’t crying. She tried to tell that to Tabitha, but no words came out. How could she possibly communicate her feelings as she stared into the oak-framed mirror? The reflection looking back was no one she’d ever seen before. It was someone who looked lovely, someone who, perhaps, Carrie had seen only in her wildest imaginings.

  “Hmph!” Tabitha placed her hands on her narrow hips. “You don’t like the dress? Then put on a different one.”

  “The dress is beautiful.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s passable.”

  “I’ve never had anything so fine in my life!” And here Carrie had thought the brown dress Miss Phoebe had acquired for her last night was the finest garment she’d ever worn. It paled in comparison to this beige and green calico. “So, you see … these are happy tears.”

  “Bah! They’ll put red blotches on your face just the same as sad ’uns, and then you’ll show up downstairs for tea looking like your best friend just got hanged.”

  Joshua. Carrie grimaced inwardly at the thought of him swinging from a rope. He may no longer qualify as her best friend, but she’d never betray him.

  Nor would she hurt or embarrass Peyton or Aunt Ruth.

  Carrie swallowed her tears along with her sentiments. She had to look her best at teatime.

  “Now, let’s see if I can do something with this bird’s nest you call hair.” Tabitha ran her hands over Carrie’s hair. The woman had taken out the braids before Carrie’s bath so, in the hours since, Carrie’s thick tresses hung in a mass of tangled auburn waves. “C’mon over here and sit down at the dressing table.”

  Carrie did as Tabitha bid her and sat on the cushioned stool, facing the mirror. A hint of lavender reached her nose as Tabitha smoothed lotion through her curls. Then she expertly pinned them up in a knotted chignon, leaving several tendrils coiling prettily around her face. Carrie marveled at her transformation and wondered if her family would recognize her if they could see her now.

  “Run along downstairs, Miss Carrie Ann.” Tabitha shooed her toward the door. “Ruth is waiting on you in the parlor.”

  “Thank you, Tabitha. You’re a miracle worker.” After giving the woman a quick smile, she left the bedroom and bounded down the steps. As she reached the parlor, Aunt Ruth met her at the doorway.

  “My dear girl, one never descends a stairwell so hastily unless one is shouting, ‘Fire!’ at the same time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She’d have to recall more ladylike manners, although she’d not had to use them in some time. “I apologize. I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

  “You, dear girl,” Aunt Ruth said, her gaze falling over her, “look lovely. And I do appreciate your promptness, since our guests will be here soon.” Looking pleased, she motioned Carrie into the room and closed the door behind them. “I can see why my nephew is taken with you.”

  “No, Aunt Ruth …” Before Carrie closed her eyes and slept this afternoon, she thought long and hard about the presumption. “The colonel,” she said, deliberately, “made it clear that he did not want to encourage me in the ‘wrong way.’”

  “Well, of course he didn’t. Peyton is a gentleman. But I’m sure he means to encourage you in the right way.”

  Her shoulders sagged ever so slightly. She wouldn’t win this argument.

  “However, for the sake of Eli and our neighbors, you are Peyton’s half sister.”

  Carrie’s eyes widened.

  “I’ve said you’re my niece and I only have one older brother.” Sadness crept across the older woman’s age-lined face and settled in her eyes. She sat on the settee. “Such a tragedy when Philip and his wife, Eleanor, were killed after their carriage tumbled over a steep embankment. They were vacationing in France and Philip was driving an unfamiliar road.”

  “Yes, the colonel told me.” Carrie took a seat in one of the three armchairs. “A terrible shame.”

  “Yes. I adored my brother, which is why I have always adored Peyton. He was just a boy of twelve years old when his parents were killed—and a hellion to boot. Why, he was nearly the death of poor Tabitha and me.”

  Carrie could well imagine.

  “Finally, I had no other choice but to put him in boarding school. The boy was fairly terrorizing Winchester. A family friend was a senator at the time and wrote the necessary letter of recommendation which earned Peyton entry into West Point Academy. He went on to college there also.”

  “He mentioned that. You must be very proud of him.”

  “Indeed I am. And now he’s a Christian man.” Aunt Ruth sighed. “His salvation was my sincerest hope and prayer, and God answered it.”

  Carrie enjoyed hearing the story, particularly as she was interested in its topic. Nonetheless, she’d spent the better part of her childhood listening to her elders tell their tales, when she’d accompanied Papa as he collected newsworthy items for the Bell Tower.

  “But as for our little fib—”

  “Yes, about that. What if someone recognizes me? I am, after all, from Woodstock.”

  “We’ll have to deal with that obstacle when it presents itself. For the time being, you’re the niece I never knew I had until recently. I will introduce you as such to our neighbors who are coming for tea, Frances and Lavinia Monteague.” Aunt Ruth tipped her head. “Will you play along?”

  Did she have a choice?

  Carrie thought it over, wondering what Papa would say. Of course, journalists frequently disguised themselves in order to get compelling stories. Perhaps she’d write about this experience as well as about nursing wounded men in a Union camp.

  Meeting Aunt Ruth’s questioning gaze, she smiled. “Yes, I’ll play along.”

  “Oh, thank you, my dear.” Aunt Ruth clasped her hands together and pressed them over her heart. “What fun this will be.”

  “So … did I know my father? Your brother? Just in case the subject comes up.”

  “No, you never
knew him. Your mother made a deathbed confession, and you contacted me after you learned Philip was your biological father.”

  Plausible. “All right.”

  “You were an innocent victim of circumstance.”

  Carrie couldn’t help but grin. Aunt Ruth should be a writer—a fiction writer.

  “I did, however, tell Eli that your stepfather was a journalist in Woodstock.”

  “Oh … well, I suppose that’s fine as there were many journalists there before the war writing for the larger newspaper. Papa’s Bell Tower, a small publication by comparison, covered human interest stories as well as local politics.”

  “Then the explanation will work?”

  “I’d say so.” Carrie laughed softly before turning serious once more. “But I’m sure I needn’t remind you of what Sir Walter Scott wrote. ‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave—’”

  “‘When first we practice to deceive.’ Yes, I know the quotation well.”

  “I supposed as much.”

  “But here in Winchester, we women—loyalists and secessionists alike—have had to tell many fibs to ensure our very existence. Now, let me tell you about the Monteagues.”

  As Aunt Ruth filled her in on the neighbors, Carrie wondered about her new friend. She had never met any woman like Ruth Collier—independent, intelligent, even a tad mischievous. She couldn’t help but like her. But could she trust her?

  That remained to be seen.

  CHAPTER 17

  A more excruciating tea Carrie had never attended, and primarily painful because she had to gaze at the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Peyton’s former fiancée. Carrie could well understand why he, or any man, would be attracted to her. Having a perfectly heart-shaped face—the kind Carrie had only read about in fiction—and almond-brown eyes, Miss Lavinia Monteague seemed to embody the whole of femininity as Carrie knew it. What’s more, a woman like her would possess far too much dignity to reside, even temporarily, with Union soldiers, no matter what the circumstances.

  Lavinia sat in the chair next to her mother and smoothed down the skirt of her sapphire-blue gown. The color accentuated Miss Monteague’s lily-white skin and curvy figure, causing Carrie to feel decidedly insignificant.