A Thousand Shall Fall

by Andrea Boeshaar

  CHAPTER 23

  October 1, 1864

  Peyton drank his morning coffee and listened to Carrie read selections from the various newspapers he’d scrounged up for her. Aunt Ruth and Tabitha were upstairs cleaning, Vern had gone to fetch Meredith at the train depot in Martinsburg, and the rest of Peyton’s staff were on duty. This was a rare moment alone with Carrie and Peyton relished it.

  She glanced at him. “Did you get as far as Woodstock?”

  “Yes, but we weren’t able to stop in town. My regiment went up the Luray, hoping to find Early. We did, in fact, capture several of his scattered troops. Then some of my men and I searched a cavern. I have a hunch Mosby is hiding out in one of them.” Peyton took another swallow of coffee. “But, of course, those caves are treacherous and we didn’t have adequate lighting, so we ended up calling it a night and making camp.”

  Sadness entered Carrie’s eyes. “Won’t General Sheridan stop the burning? The Union won the Opequon battle.”

  “He’s following Grant’s orders. The idea is to make sure the Confederate army can’t return and to let the people in the Shenandoah Valley know they can no longer support the enemy.”

  “I know, but … I overhead one soldier say that there’s so much burning going on in the Valley, with barns, factories, and mills going up in flames, that it looks like hellfire.”

  “It does, and General Grant won’t stop until he gets his—”

  “Unconditional surrender,” Carrie finished for him. “U. S. Grant … Unconditional Surrender Grant.”

  Peyton sat back and folded his arms. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Your side.”

  The blue of her eyes deepened, making Peyton long for their private ceremony tonight at which their vows were to be taken. With each passing day, he fell more deeply in love with her—and that made having separate sleeping quarters difficult if not awkward. It had just been fortunate that none of his staff had the need to awaken him in the middle of the night, or they would have discovered that he and his bride slept apart.

  But that would change after tonight.

  “While you were away, I wrote Margaret a different letter, so I’m glad you weren’t able to deliver the one I wrote in camp.”

  “Letter?”

  “Don’t you remember? I gave it to you after you first offered me employment.”

  “Ah, yes …” Arching a brow, he considered his bride-to-be and noted the twinkle in her eyes.

  “And to think I’ve earned my way to the position of your wife in such a short time.”

  He grinned at her teasing. “I’ll make you work for it, don’t worry.”

  “Oh, I’m not.”

  Sassy little thing. “So, tell me …” Peyton sat back in his chair. “Did you tell your family of your promotion?”

  “Of course.” She feigned indignation, glaring at him then lifting her chin and looking away.

  Peyton folded his arms. “Keep this up, Mrs. Collier, and I may have to kiss you.”

  “Not until this evening, although I suppose it doesn’t really matter.” Her voice fell into a whisper. “It’s not like it’ll be our first kiss. Even so, I still say it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before they speak their vows.”

  “Only in arranged marriages,” Peyton whispered back, “in which the groom is likely to renege if he sees his bride and decides she’s hopelessly ugly.”

  “Or vice versa.” Carrie’s voice returned to normal amplification.

  Peyton inclined his head in deference. “Either way, that hardly describes our circumstances. I’m aware of your feelings for me, and you have my word that I won’t renege. I adore you and I am your humble servant.”

  She giggled at his theatrical attempt.

  “You laugh, madam? I’m crushed.”

  She pressed her lips together and he watched amusedly as she tamped down her amusement. But she wasn’t successful and they both ended up laughing.

  He caught her hand. “All humor aside, I love you, Carrie.” He sent her a bold wink and basked in the blush flooding her cheeks.

  “The feeling is mutual, Colonel.”

  The clock in the parlor chimed loud enough for Peyton to catch the time. The day was getting away from him.

  He expelled a sigh. “Carrie, as much as I regret it, I need to be on my way.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m meeting with Colonel Edwards within the hour. We’re discussing the best way to restore law and order to Winchester. As you’re aware, it’s been something of a challenge, what with those Rebel renegades, likely Mosby’s men, raiding loyalists’ homes and Union wagon trains.”

  “I understand.” She pushed to her feet. “Aunt Ruth and Tabitha have asked for my help with putting the final touches on our wing of the house, and I’ve probably kept them waiting long enough.”

  “It’s hardly a wing, Carrie.” Her description of the upper hallway with its two bedrooms, one large enough to have a sitting area, amused him. His grandfather had built on the addition after marrying his grandmother. Later, it was inhabited by Peyton and his parents whenever they visited Piccadilly Place. After his parents died, Aunt Ruth moved his bedroom to the one in which Tommy now resided. However, during the last few years, officers, including Eli, along with a host of guests, had made use of it. “After this war is over, I’ll take you to England where we’ll tour castles and estates so you can see my interpretation of a wing.”

  “Really? To England?” Her blue eyes sparkled with obvious delight. “I’ve always dreamed of a journey to England.”

  “Then we must go.” Peyton pulled her close. Her head tipped back slightly as she gazed up at him. Her pink lips parted. “On second thought, I think I will kiss you after all.”

  Aunt Ruth and Tabitha both fussed over Carrie as she dressed for the private ceremony and celebration to follow. Somehow the conversation shifted from the gorgeous ivory silk gown to the cracks in the plaster of the eggshell-colored walls.

  “I’m sure you’ll want to have this entire addition repaired and redecorated to suit your tastes,” Aunt Ruth said. “When the time comes, I’ll help you select paint colors and we’ll hire one of the Quakers to do the work. They’re about the only men left in town.” She strode to an armchair. “You’ll want to have all the furniture reupholstered also.”

  “Whatever you think is best, Aunt Ruth.”

  Carrie was quickly learning her place in this family. She would go along with whatever the older woman wanted. Her marriage to Peyton depended on it. After all, he adored his aunt and she adored him right back. Far be it for Carrie to come between them. Yet, Carrie believed Aunt Ruth was genuinely fond of her. They got along well, and that pleased Peyton. However, Carrie learned when this war began that people’s affections changed quickly. Those who were long-standing friends became instant enemies over politics. Peyton loved her now, but God forbid Carrie ever compromised it by disagreeing with Aunt Ruth.

  How she longed to rest in Peyton’s devotion and Aunt Ruth’s kindness, but there was a niggling deep within her. Would Peyton soon come to his senses and see her for what she really was—a farmer-turned-journalist’s daughter who became a serving girl at the Wayfarers Inn? Peyton might begin to care the minute she stepped into a room filled with well-bred women. What if she embarrassed him somehow? What if he grew bored with her and regretted marrying her? And Aunt Ruth—she was happy and relieved that Carrie and Peyton’s union ensured the release of his trust, but once the money was in the Colliers’ possession, they might discover they had no need for Carrie anymore. And if her worst fears were realized, it might be to her advantage to be on Aunt Ruth’s good side.

  “Now hold yourself still,” Tabitha scolded while brushing Carrie’s thick hair. “You are the wiggliest young lady I ever did know!”

  “It’s impossible for me to be still. I’m nervous.”

  “That’s perfectly natural,” Aunt Ruth assured her. “Of course, I don’t know that from experience, but every one of my friends
admitted to me that they contracted a horrible case of nerves before reciting their vows.”

  Carrie released a pent-up sigh. If she didn’t love Peyton so much, she’d be tempted to run for the foothills of Massanutten and hide out for the rest of the war. Maybe the chance at happiness wasn’t worth the possible heartache.

  “Ouch!” Carrie put her hand to the back of her head. She was sure Tabitha had just pulled out half her hair.

  “I wouldn’t have pulled if you woulda been sittin’ still.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Tabitha. I can’t help it.”

  “Now, Carrie Ann, stop frowning so hard.” Aunt Ruth gathered Carrie’s left hand in both of her warm palms. “You’ll give yourself premature winkles. Why, Tabitha is living proof of that.”

  “Hmph!”

  Carrie did her best to suppress a smile.

  “That’s better, my dear girl. This is a happy day.”

  “It surely is,” Tabitha said.

  “Yes,” Carrie repeated, “it’s a happy day.”

  She mentally recited those words over and over. In fact, they saw her out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the parlor where the Johnstons and Reverend Bidwell waited. One glance at Peyton, who looked dashing in his dark blue Union frock coat with its red sash encircling his waist, and Carrie knew she’d never love or want to marry any other man. She felt the tension inside of her melt away. Peyton was worth any amount of emotional risk, should her fears come to fruition.

  Oh, God, please don’t allow that to happen.

  “I think we’re ready to begin,” Reverend Bidwell said in his aged and raspy voice. Standing near the hearth, he made last-moment adjustments to his billowing black robe. “Please take your places, everyone.”

  Aunt Ruth approached Carrie with rosy cheeks from all the excitement. She wrapped Carrie in a quick but snug embrace. “You’ll make Peyton a fine wife, my dear girl.” She spoke softly, close to Carrie’s ear. “And, my, my, but you look so beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” Truth be known, for the first time in her life, Carrie felt beautiful. After Aunt Ruth released her, she nervously smoothed her hands over her gown. The dress was on loan from another loyalist woman whose husband was a state senator. A good friend of Aunt Ruth, the woman insisted Carrie wear it for good luck.

  Aunt Ruth fussed with last-minute decorations. Her excitement was obvious, if not a tad contagious. Under her direction yesterday, and with Major Johnston’s help, Peyton carried up rugs and furniture along with various artifacts from the secret cellar. Now Piccadilly Place looked tastefully festive. Aunt Ruth’s friends would talk about this affair for weeks. Maybe even months. Even so, Carrie knew the display of her fondest possessions was no small sacrifice on Aunt Ruth’s part. As had occurred in the past, the Union army could, at any time, be pushed out of Winchester and the Rebel army could move in. Aunt Ruth could lose all her prized possessions if her home was invaded by the enemy and inhabited by an officer who wasn’t as considerate as Eli Kent. Worse was the threat of a guerrilla raid. But Aunt Ruth casually disregarded Carrie’s concerns, insisting this wedding celebration was worth the gamble.

  Everyone took their places. Vern Johnston planted himself beside Peyton, and his wife, Meredith, stood next to Carrie. Despite her long, arduous journey from Germantown, Meredith’s green eyes were bright and her smile, wide and genuine. Her soft brown hair seemed haloed by the golden glow of the candlelit room.

  “Thank you for acting as my witness,” Carrie whispered.

  “I’m honored.”

  Tabitha closed the parlor doors, and Peyton offered his arm to Carrie. Mesmerized by his amorous expression, she threaded her hand around his elbow. Could this really be happening? Was she actually marrying the man she loved with all her heart?

  Within minutes they’d recited their vows and the reverend challenged them from the Scriptures to be the kind of husband and wife that God expected.

  Then Peyton presented Carrie with a delicate rose-gold ring adorned with tiny sapphires and diamonds. “It belonged to my mother,” he murmured as he slipped it onto her finger.

  Tears sprang into her eyes. Such a precious gift! “I will treasure it always, Peyton.” A tad too large for her finger, but over the many years to come she’d most likely grow into it.

  Reverend Bidwell cleared his throat. “I now pronounce you man and wife. Colonel Collier, you may kiss your wife.”

  Giving Carrie a gentle smile, Peyton lowered his lips to hers in a beautifully tender kiss, yet polite enough so as not to embarrass the small assembly. As applause erupted, Peyton’s amber gaze reflected the flames in the hearth and promised all the love and passion for which Carrie yearned. She thought her chest would explode from the joy swelling inside of her.

  By the time she accepted hugs from Aunt Ruth, Meredith, and Tabitha and congratulations from the gentlemen who then shook Peyton’s hand enthusiastically, the small ensemble in the music room had begun to play a lively melody. They signed the marriage certificate, although Peyton had signed other legal documents over a month ago.

  They traversed into the foyer where three men in black jackets and stiff white collars carried trays of food to the dining room.

  And all this for her—for them—in celebration of their marriage. Carrie wished her family could be here. But, then again, they wouldn’t care for all the blue-clad soldiers milling about.

  More guests arrived.

  “Carrie, my sweet, you look more shell-shocked than happy,” Peyton whispered. “How about putting a smile on that lovely face of yours?”

  She obliged him. “I’m in awe of all the goings-on. I’ve never attended such a lavish party. And to think it’s in our honor makes me dizzy.”

  “Good. I hoped and prayed this evening would be memorable.”

  “I’ll never forget it.” She smiled, this one filled with all the joy she felt. “Thank you.”

  Peyton shook his head. “It is I who should be thanking you.”

  Their conversation halted then as guests greeted them. Some of the women Carrie had already met, but some she’d never seen before. Aunt Ruth stood nearby, making introductions when need be and then whisking her friends into the music room.

  And then Miss Monteague arrived, looking more stunning than ever in her emerald-green gown. Every man’s gaze lingered on the beautiful Lavinia. Carrie watched Peyton closely. Did his?

  “So glad you could make it, Miss Monteague,” he said politely, taking her hand for only a second or two.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it.” She turned to her bearded escort. “Allow me to introduce Sergeant Enoch Strothers.”

  The handsome, dark-haired soldier gave a bow. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  Peyton shook Strothers’s hand. “I believe, Sergeant, that you and I have met, although it’s nice to see you off the battlefield.”

  “Yes, sir. I agree.” The man smiled, causing his high cheekbones to become more pronounced. He appeared every bit as charming as Lavinia was lovely. Carrie wondered if the man was equally simpleminded.

  The queue inched forward. The sergeant politely stepped out of line, but Miss Monteague remained and brazenly clutched Peyton’s hand.

  “I’ll be sure to save a dance for you, Peyton,” she whispered loud enough for Carrie to overhear. “It’ll be like old times.”

  Before Carrie could hear Peyton’s response, an older, distinguished-looking gentleman with bushy gray whiskers claimed her attention. She forced a smile and politely gave him her hand, but all the while her insides churned. Would Lavinia make trouble tonight?

  She closed her eyes ever so briefly. Oh, Lord, please don’t allow that woman to ruin my wedding celebration.

  When the line of incoming guests ended, Peyton put his arm around Carrie’s waist. She looked enchanting tonight with her reddish-brown tresses pulled back off her face save for the ringlets that brushed against her bare shoulders. Her skin glowed with softness, and Peyton longed to kiss his way down her neck and across he
r collarbone.

  But he’d wait until he had Carrie all to himself.

  “Miss Monteague’s presence seems to have troubled you,” he said close to her ear. “While we were once engaged to be married, she never owned my heart. It’s you I love and adore, Carrie.”

  “I know.” She turned her head and her blue eyes held him captive.

  “I will never love anyone else.”

  Happiness shimmered in her eyes. “I love only you, too, Peyton.”

  He believed every word.

  Yes, he adored this woman, and he couldn’t help but kiss her right here in the foyer. She didn’t push him away or scold him for crushing her crinoline. When their lips parted, her cheeks turned a pretty pink and her gaze brightened.

  And then, success! She smiled.

  “All right, you two!”

  Peyton knew that voice. It caused his earlobes to throb with memories of his younger days. Releasing Carrie, he turned to face Tabitha’s frowning countenance. It was almost startling to see her in something other than her dark work dress and stained white apron. The gold satin dress she wore complemented her rich skin tone.

  “Get on in the music room and be sociable. I didn’t polish that floor for no reason.”

  “How can I refuse such a request when it comes from someone so lovely?” Peyton gave her a bow. “We shall make our way to the music room straightaway.”

  “And don’t you try to charm me.” She lifted her chin. “Hmph! I knowed you since you were knee high to a bear cub.”

  Tabitha stomped off with a rustling of her skirts. Peyton chuckled in her wake.

  “I believe you did manage to charm her.” Carrie leaned against his arm as she spoke.

  “I always could.”

  With his hand at the small of her back, Peyton guided his bride into the music room. Within that very minute, Vern whisked her off for a waltz while Peyton danced with Meredith. He changed partners every couple of minutes—

  And then Lavinia was in his arms. Her imported perfume caused a dull throb in Peyton’s temples. He’d never found her Paris cologne appealing. Nor did her shiny dark hair, now gleaming beneath the lamplight, allure him in the least.