To Whisper Her Name

by Tamera Alexander

  Seeing Elizabeth struggling with her necklace, Olivia helped her with it, fitting the tiny clasp inside the hook. Then she noticed …

  “Aunt.” She gently took Elizabeth’s hands in hers. “You’re trembling.”

  “It’s nothing, dear. I’ve been having these little tremors, the doctor calls them, for years. They come and go. But recently, they come. It’s not painful.” She smiled. “Only frustrating.”

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway and General Harding entered the bedroom. Then stopped almost as quickly. “My goodness,” he whispered. “Don’t you two ladies look lovely. May I escort you both downstairs? The guests should be arriving any time.”

  Olivia accepted the general’s left arm. Typically, she’d have been surprised by his compliment. But the closer the auction came, the more chipper he’d become. And it wasn’t hard to understand why. The auction — but far more, her marriage — would help Belle Meade recover from the war years and become solvent again.

  She walked beside him and Aunt Elizabeth until the spiral staircase turned and narrowed. Then she slipped her arm free and nodded for them to continue on. She had paused for a moment, waiting for the train of Elizabeth’s dress to clear the stairs below when she looked down into the entrance hall and saw Ridley coming through the front door.

  Dashing in his suit and tie, he glanced up, saw her, and the look on his face — one of undeniable pleasure and approval — made her heart race. She gripped the banister to her right but had scarcely negotiated the next stair when he was by her side.

  He wove her arm through his. “I was hoping you would wear that.” His gaze moved over her with deliberate, and welcomed, leisure. “Intoxicating yet again, Mrs. Aberdeen.”

  “Precisely what I was thinking,” she whispered, catching a whiff of bayberry and spice as they descended and loving how his eyes narrowed the slightest bit.

  He was clean shaven. His hair, reaching just past his collar, had grown longer than he usually wore it. But it looked good on him and was reminiscent of when she’d first seen him — all wild and untamed — that day on the road. He would fit in well in the Colorado Territory. And yet … viewing herself through his eyes, she was the furthest thing from a woman fit for such a place.

  This was her world. Empty and foreign though it felt at the moment.

  When they reached the landing, he turned. “Olivia, after the auction tomorrow night, do you think we could —”

  “Yes.”

  Playful warning lit his gaze. “Careful. You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

  His comment elicited a smile. “You were going to ask me to take a walk, were you not?”

  He studied her for a moment. “More or less.”

  “Then, more or less, my answer is still yes.”

  The clomp of horses’ hooves and the squeak of wheels announced the arrival of their guests, and she caught the general’s glance aimed in her direction. So, apparently, did Ridley.

  “Duty calls?” he asked softly.

  “I’m to stand with the Harding family and greet the guests. It’s part of the official end of my mourning.”

  He merely nodded, his features revealing nothing. He started to go, then paused. “Thank you again, Olivia, for everything you’ve done to make this auction come together. Same thing for inventorying the stables. I couldn’t have accomplished what I have here without you.”

  His gratitude felt painfully like the beginning of good-bye. And using a skill rusty from disuse but which polished up surprisingly quick, Olivia stuffed her emotions down deep.

  “You’re so welcome, Ridley. It was my pleasure.” She forced a laugh, daring to voice an ever-thinning hope. “And as I’ve said before, if the auction goes well — as we all know it will — the general might offer you a job you simply won’t be able to refuse.”

  He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, not a trace of a smile touching his. “Until tomorrow night.”

  Over the next half hour, standing at the end of the receiving line with Mary, Olivia greeted the Hardings’ guests and swiftly realized the road to reentering society in Nashville would be a bumpy one. If it could be navigated at all.

  “Welcome to Belle Meade,” she said softly as a couple passed her in the receiving line.

  The gentleman barely glanced her way before turning. The woman angled her head slightly as though about to nod, then delivered a discreet but scathing glance that caused Olivia’s face to burn. Olivia tried again with the next couple in line, and the next, but with similar results. After a while, she simply smiled, then quickly averted her gaze so as to avoid their contempt.

  Then she saw him. General Percival Meeks. Coming up the walkway. At least … she thought it was him.

  “General Meeks.” General Harding greeted him with a handshake. “What an honor to have you in our home again, sir.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, General Harding. I assure you.”

  Though no one would describe him as svelte, the man was a shadow of his former self. Since she’d last seen him, he’d reduced his girth by close to half. And he didn’t appear sickly either. Quite the contrary. The hairy laurel he’d sported was gone too. And she had to say, bald was a vast improvement.

  As he visited with General Harding and Aunt Elizabeth, the man’s focus drifted down the line and connected with Olivia’s. He smiled and nodded kindly, then returned his attention to the conversation.

  “Is that the man you’re going to marry?” Mary whispered beside her.

  Olivia looked at her, wishing she could answer with a resounding no, but deciding it best to respond vaguely. “We’ll see,” she whispered, then looked back to see General Meeks working his way down the line.

  When he reached her, he clasped her hands in a fatherly like fashion. “My charming correspondent. How wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Aberdeen.”

  Olivia offered a curtsey. “General Meeks, nice to see you again, sir.” Only then did she notice a woman following behind him. Short, a little roundish about the middle, with kind eyes.

  “May I introduce Mrs. Fairbanks,” he said. “My nurse. Mrs. Fairbanks … Mrs. Olivia Aberdeen.”

  Olivia nodded, not quite believing he’d brought his nurse with him. Unless he wasn’t as well as he appeared. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fairbanks. Welcome to Belle Meade.”

  Mrs. Fairbanks smiled and dipped her head. “Mrs. Aberdeen, a pleasure. General Meeks speaks so very highly of you, ma’am.” Then she lowered her eyes.

  General Meeks stepped closer. “I’ll explain more privately, Mrs. Aberdeen. But suffice it to say the doctor gave me an ultimatum last fall, and I chose to make some changes in my daily regimen. He assigned Mrs. Fairbanks here to assist me with those.”

  Olivia nodded. “Well, sir, if I might say, the regimen seems to agree with you.”

  He beamed. “Thank you. And whatever you’ve been doing most definitely agrees with you.”

  Once the last of the guests arrived and were greeted, a bell sounded from the main dining room. Everyone began moving in that direction, and as Olivia did likewise, making her way beside General Meeks, she saw women glancing behind her. Again and again. Finally, curious to see what drew their attention, she turned. And couldn’t blame them one bit for their ongoing stares. Ridley Cooper was well worth a second look. And a third.

  “He’s so handsome,” Mary whispered.

  At that moment, Ridley glanced their way. His gaze connected with Olivia’s, and he smiled. Mary gave her a discreet nudge, and Olivia saw the glint of mischief in the girl’s eyes.

  Mindful that whatever opinions Mary formed would no doubt be passed along posthaste to Aunt Elizabeth, Olivia affected a serious tone. “Mr. Cooper and I are friends,” she whispered, hoping no one else was thinking what Mary was.

  Mary quirked a doubtful brow.

  Olivia quickly nodded. Then, thinking better of it — and thinking, too, about all that Ridley truly did mean to her — she added, “We’re very good friends. And Mr. C
ooper leaves for the Colorado Territory in one week.”

  Mary’s teasing smile dimmed a little, and she nodded. But still looked far from convinced.

  Following plates of fresh fruit, the main course was served and dinner conversation flourished. With General Meeks on her right and Mary on her left, Olivia did more listening than talking, which suited her fine. Ridley was seated opposite the table from her, one seat over, and she caught him sneaking looks at her, almost as often as she sneaked looks at him.

  With the exception of Ridley, each of the men at the table had served with the general in the war, and each had stories of valor and bravery they shared. Some stories drew tears, others applause, while more lighthearted stories drew laughter. Occasionally Olivia caught snippets of other exchanges that proved more than a little interesting.

  The woman who had earlier delivered the most scathing stare at Olivia was seated directly across the table from her — just to Ridley’s right — and was in deep conversation with one of the many Confederate generals in attendance. But apparently the woman had never perfected her whisper.

  “Well, you do know that General Harding contributed five hundred thousand dollars to the Confederate cause. And, of course, my husband and I did nearly that much as well.” The woman huffed. “Those dirty, filthy Yankees. Look at what they did to us, General. To our lives! And they dare call us traitors to the Union.” The woman slid a brief but well-aimed glare across the table at Olivia. “My husband says that if any of them have the gall to show up here tomorrow, he will outbid them all!”

  Olivia confined her gaze to her plate. Two years since the war had ended and still such bitterness. In the thrum of conversation around her, a quiet realization came, and she searched her heart to make sure it was true. And to her amazement, it was. When had she put away the sharp bitterness and loathing she’d had for Charles? She still thought of him, on occasion, but although the memories were far from pleasant, neither were they drenched in animosity. She felt a stirring within, and her gaze was drawn across the table.

  Maybe that’s why God had brought Ridley into her life. To help her forgive, to heal, and to let go. In one sense, it felt a little cruel. To dangle something so beautiful in front of her. A relationship she could never have. And yet she wouldn’t want to go back to being the woman in that carriage. The woman she’d been before she met him.

  “Susanna!”

  Olivia blinked at the name, then dabbed her eyes with her napkin.

  Susanna refilled a gentleman’s water glass down the table. “Yes, sir, General Walker. You need somethin’, sir?”

  The older man winked at the woman beside him. “I need you to confirm to my wife here that you did indeed hide the Harding family silver during the war. At the general’s request. And that General Harding wasn’t the least concerned that he didn’t know where you’d hidden it.”

  Susanna stood a bit straighter. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what happened, all right. Them Yankees were camped out in the deer park, been takin’ everythin’. So the general, he asked me and Uncle Bob to hide it for him. So we did.”

  The wife nodded as though still not quite believing. “And he didn’t ask you to tell him where it was?”

  Susanna shook her head. “No, ma’am, Missus Walker. General Harding, he trusts me and Uncle Bob.” Susanna glanced down the table, and General Harding gave her a kind smile.

  “Would you tell me where you hid it, Susanna?” Another man asked, humor in his tone.

  “Why, no, sir. I will not.” Susanna winked. “There might come another war, and we need to be keepin’ that silver safe.”

  Laughter filled the room, followed by the telling tink of silver on china, and one of the general’s friends stood and raised his glass. “To our gracious host, General William Giles Harding, owner of the finest plantation and thoroughbred farm in the country, and one of the best men the South has ever known.”

  His remarks were met by affirming nods.

  “A true son of the Confederacy, he set an example and made us proud by choosing prison rather than signing the Oath of Allegiance to a Union he didn’t support and a cause he did not believe in. To General William Giles Harding …” He lifted his glass. “A man among men.”

  “To General William Giles Harding,” everyone repeated. “A man among men!”

  “Hear, hear!” rose up throughout the room, and everyone drank a toast.

  “Now if we could only get him to cut that scraggly old beard!” another man said, but the comment drew only the shallowest of laughter.

  And the room grew quiet.

  General Harding merely smiled. “The war may officially be over, gentlemen … and ladies,” he added with a nod. “But my allegiance to my true country, to my South, will never end or be diminished in my heart.” His smile faded, his attention focusing on the man who’d made the comment. “And I swear to you, my good friend, that I will wear this beard proudly until the day the South has won, or — if the Almighty wills it — until the day I die.”

  Seconds passed in awkward silence.

  Olivia looked down the table at Aunt Elizabeth, whose carefully arranged smile couldn’t mask the concern — and love — she felt for her husband. She also glimpsed the weight of worry and stress that her aunt’s letters during the war had so painfully reflected.

  General Harding rose from his seat, and all eyes turned. “Before we continue with dinner and with what I’m certain will be one of Susanna’s delicious desserts, I want to offer my gratitude to all of you for coming here tonight. And for helping us to celebrate Belle Meade’s first annual yearling auction.”

  Applause followed, sprinkled with congratulatory remarks.

  “I’ve asked one of my foremen, Mr. Ridley Cooper, to join us this evening with the purpose of giving you an overview of the auction tomorrow. As you’re able to visit with him tonight following dinner, or tomorrow during the auction, know that he has my full confidence and therefore full authority to deal with you on any account. I’ve also instructed him to teach you how to bid high and bid often, which is something I highly encourage.”

  The guests laughed, and any momentary awkwardness from earlier faded.

  “And now, without further ado, ladies and gentleman … Mr. Ridley Cooper.”

  Olivia’s eyes burned with quiet pride as Ridley rose to his feet.

  “Thank you, General Harding, for that introduction. I’m honored not only to be here with you tonight, but to be here at Belle Meade. As the general said, if you have any questions, seek me out. But something you must do while you’re here tomorrow is visit the stables of Belle Meade. When you do, you’re going to meet a gentleman by the name of Bob Green. But within five minutes, you’ll be calling him Uncle Bob, as we all do. Uncle Bob is the head hostler here at Belle Meade and is the finest horse trainer in the country. Maybe the world, but I haven’t traveled that far yet.”

  More laughter drifted up from the table, and as Ridley continued speaking, Olivia watched the people in the room respond to him. He was a natural-born leader. People followed him, because Ridley Cooper knew where he was going.

  After he sat down, Susanna, Betsy, and Chloe cleared the dinner dishes and served warm carrot cake, a Belle Meade specialty, as Susanna called it. Conversation ensued but most of it, Olivia noted while listening to General Meeks beside her, was directed toward Ridley.

  “Where are you from, Mr. Cooper?” One of the generals asked.

  “From South Carolina, sir. Near Hilton Head.”

  The man nodded. “Beautiful area. Nothing like the ocean, is there?”

  Ridley shook his head. “No, sir, there’s not.”

  “I bet you miss it,” a woman added.

  “I do.” Ridley shot Olivia a look. “But I keep a seashell with me, as a reminder.”

  Olivia warmed at the silent, personal exchange and was glad when General Meeks turned to Mrs. Fairbanks on his right.

  A gentleman three seats down from Ridley leaned forward. “I served with a few o
f the regiments from South Carolina, Mr. Cooper. Which regiment were you in?”

  Olivia tensed at the question, knowing Ridley didn’t like talking about the war.

  Lifting his water glass, Ridley took a long drink, then cleared his throat. “I served with the 167th, sir.”

  The man frowned. “I don’t recall that regiment. But you were stationed here in Nashville?”

  Ridley nodded. “For the majority of the time, yes, sir.”

  “What was your rank, Mr. Cooper?”

  “I was a first lieutenant, sir.”

  “My gracious, dear,” the gentleman’s wife interrupted. “Would you stop badgering poor Mr. Cooper and give him a chance to eat his carrot cake while it’s still warm?”

  Smiling at the woman, Ridley took a huge bite.

  “We’re not badgering him, ma’am,” another man offered. “We’ve just heard all of our stories, so we want to hear his.”

  People laughed, even the woman who had done the gentle scolding. But Olivia didn’t.

  “A first lieutenant, you say, Mr. Cooper?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s right.”

  “I bet you saw a lot more hand-to-hand fighting than the rest of the old men sitting around this table, myself included.”

  Ridley looked down at his plate. “Yes, sir. I … guess I probably did.”

  Olivia sensed the desire from the men in the room for Ridley to share his stories. But while she had long wanted to know more about his experiences in the war and to understand why he wanted to leave here so badly, she wished they would stop peppering him with questions. If only they knew how hard it was for him.

  “So were you with us at the Battle of Franklin, Mr. Cooper? Horrible night that it was,” the man said softly.

  Ridley laid his fork aside. “No, sir, I wasn’t at that battle.”

  “The Battle of Nashville then?” an older general asked from down the table, his voice somber. “I lost 237 men from my company that day. But we made a valiant last stand.”

  “No, sir.” Ridley bowed his head. “I wasn’t there either.”