Summer Rose

by Caroline Hartman

  He gave Daniel a wry grin. “I knew you were too tough to kill. Heard about the head.”

  He indicated the captured Confederate prisoners filing by. “Well done. Gentlemen, come over to headquarters later, bring their battle flags. I’ll add them to my collection.”

  “Before you go, I have a personal question to ask you, Sir,” Daniel asked. “Did you know Colonel Micah McAllister?”

  General Buford looked slightly surprised, but nodded. “Knew him well. Fine officer. Knew his sons, too. Why do you ask?”

  Daniel shrugged, but Hal grinned from ear to ear. “Our Danny has fallen like a stone for his daughter, Sir. Can you believe it?”

  John Buford nodded. “Actually, I can. I knew her mother. She was a kind friend to my Pattie. If she’s anything like Lillian, you should marry the girl right away, Danny.”

  After dark, a corporal came for them, sent to escort them to Buford’s command tent. As they walked along the river, they could see Lee’s fires and hear the rebels singing. The corporal followed behind them, leading Chester and Dulcey in case they might need their mounts. Just outside the tent, Buford saluted them, then smiled. They nudged past General Kilpatrick and Captain Keogh, who stood just under the tent fly, deep in conversation. Keogh acknowledged their presence with a nod. Kilpatrick did not.

  General Buford cleared his throat and laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “Your shoulder straps appear a little worse for wear. How about swapping them for these?” He nodded to Captain Keogh.

  “Your service on the first day at Gettysburg merits a medal,” Keogh said. “You helped hold the ground until General Reynolds came up. Unfortunately, the best I can do is a promotion. Thank you both for your valiant actions.”

  Their shoulder straps were exchanged for those bearing gold oak leaves, thus ending the non-ceremony. Unlike the others, Kilpatrick did not congratulate the two soldiers. “Don’t go letting your heads swell,” he said. “We lost three majors this morning. Stick your fist in a bucket of water. See the hole it makes? That’s how important you are. Remember. You are replaceable.”

  Daniel wrote to Summer Rose that night. He told her about General Buford knowing her mother and what he’d said.

  He told me I should marry you right away. I replied that was my intention, if she will have me. Will you?

  In mid August, he received the first of her letters. He read it at least a hundred times.

  I can’t quit thinking of you, Daniel, or your kisses. They awakened a new part of me.

  He carried the note in his breast pocket next to his heart. When Hal noticed, he teased him at every opportunity. “Your eyes are starting to droop just like General Meade’s. Must be all that reading and writing and mooning over your girl.”

  In October, just north of the Rappahannock, Hal took a sniper’s minié ball in his upper left arm. He lost a great deal of blood. Daniel found him in the hospital, talked the surgeon out of amputating, and led Hal’s stretcher bearers to his own headquarters.

  “I’ll see to your men,” he told Hal. “And I’ll telegraph your parents. Just rest.” He turned to Sergeant Abrams. “Make him some of that tea I brought back with me. And send someone over for his sergeant and Lieutenant Fisher.” He dashed off orders and a telegram, then handed both to Sergeant Abrams.

  He nursed Hal all night, forcing him to drink the foul-smelling tea. He found the bottle of Micah’s medicine, which Summer Rose had sent with them, and poured some under Hal’s bandages. When Hal slept, Daniel sat at his field desk and wrote to her, telling all about how he’d used her father’s medicine and forced the foul-tasting tea down Hal’s throat.

  Two days later Daniel found Hal and his sergeant a berth on the train at Harper’s Ferry. The arduous journey through Baltimore to Philly was full of delays. It took two days.

  Hal spent the latter part of October 1863 and the first week of November at his home, west of Philadelphia. At Hal’s insistence, a clerk in his father’s office did the legwork involved in purchasing the thousand acres in Adams and Franklin Counties, and Hal assisted his father in preparing the paperwork. Harvey St. Clair was a meticulous lawyer and very good teacher.

  Hal possessed a marvelous mind. While he recuperated, he put it to work. His father brought home crates of law books and piled them in the library at Thornwood, and Hal set about reading the law. In the evenings, he and his father discussed cases.

  CHAPTER 11

  FANNY

  After a month of skirmishes along the Rappahannock and because of Virginia’s mud—mud which a year before had scraped the hair off the legs of General Burnside’s horses and mired both armies in mud to their axles—General Lee, in mid-November, took his army to his old winter headquarters between Richmond and Staunton. Much to President Lincoln’s annoyance, Meade scattered his men north of the Rappahannock. Both armies seemed content to rest and sit out the bad weather, guarding their respective capitals, keeping a wary eye on their opponent.

  Daniel, with an agenda in mind, took a few days leave and traveled home to Philadelphia via train. After spending the morning with his father he rode the few miles to the St. Clair farm, which sprawled along the Schuylkill River west of the city.

  A groom who remembered Chester’s name materialized from the shadows of the stable and took the horse. Daniel headed toward the house, where Mr. Stone, who had been the butler for the St. Clairs for as long as Daniel could remember, opened the door. He was tall, with thick gray hair, a stiff British accent, and an even stiffer moustache. Tears of happiness filled the old man’s eyes as he embraced Daniel.

  Daniel asked about his son, Ray. Six years older than Hal or Daniel, Ray had been a hero to both boys growing up. Harvey and Amelia, Hal’s parents, had recognized the genius in Stone’s son. They had sent him to the University of Pennsylvania, where he’d obtained a medical degree.

  Mr. Stone sniffed, still unable to speak.

  “Ray is with Grant at Vicksburg, right? Have you heard from him?”

  Mr. Stone’s voice came out hoarse. “Even better, Daniel. He’s home on leave. He is now a surgeon with General Phil Sheridan. We’re very proud of him. And he was married last week.”

  Daniel touched Mr. Stone’s shoulder. “That’s terrific. Give him my congratulations, and pass along my best wishes to his bride. I hope I meet up with him while I’m here in Philadelphia.” He chuckled. “Not on the battlefield. Would I know the bride?”

  “I doubt it. She’s from St. Louis. Miss Grace Bradford, a wonderful girl.”

  Mr. Stone led him toward the library on the east side of the house. Hal’s mother, Mrs. Amelia St. Clair, spotted him from the upstairs hall.

  “Daniel!” Amelia St. Clair, dressed in brown velvet and blonde lace, floated down the stairs and hugged him, twirling him around then hugging him again. She was almost as tall as Daniel, and she pressed her cheek against his, wetting his face with her tears.

  Amelia St. Clair was the oldest child of Sidney Waterman, an itinerant artist who’d earned his living painting portraits of prosperous rural farmers and merchants. She’d spent her childhood summers traveling in a wagon, mothering her three sisters and three brothers while her father painted third rate oils along the length of Lancaster Pike, going as far north as Lewistown and Lock Haven. Her mother had run off with a drummer. Amelia’s family’s rung on the ladder of Philadelphia society rested only a touch above the gypsies.

  However, Harvey St. Clair, son of Philadelphia lawyers who dated back to the time of the first William Penn, fell in love first with her paintings, then with her. Amelia Waterman painted enchanting little watercolors of Philadelphia street corners, portraying street vendors pushing carts of colorful flowers, depicting rows of chestnut trees or a charming wrought iron fence. Her brush produced magic with light and rain and her artwork became quite popular in the city. Harvey first saw the paintings in a little gallery near his office. Then he met Amelia, and, to the astonishment of the people who counted in Philadelphia society, he married her. At f
irst, Amelia was ostracized by the grand families. That came to a stop when Daniel Charteris’ grandmother discovered Amelia was delightful. Mrs. Charlotte Charteris welcomed her into their home and heart.

  Now Amelia held Daniel’s shoulders and hugged him again, kissing both his cheeks. She’d always treated him as her third child, and loved him like one, too. Daniel’s mother, Flora Charteris, had little natural inclination toward mothering, and had left Charlotte largely responsible for her grandson’s upbringing. Charlotte, known as Nan to her grandchildren, had encouraged his and Hal’s friendship since before they could walk. It was his grandmother’s kindness that made Daniel special. White-blond, with devilish ways, sharp cheekbones and cookie-sized, polar green eyes, he was already an accomplished flirt by the age of four.

  “Good grief,” she exclaimed, her voice like silver bells. “You are more handsome than ever. I think you’ve grown.” She shook her head, looking amazed. “I find it difficult to believe you’re old enough to grow a moustache, let alone be a major. Isn’t it a sad state of affairs? Our soldiers are still growing.” Her amber eyes filled with tears and she took his arm and turned away, leading him toward the library. “I’m so glad you’re safe and whole. You know, they blinded Martin West, and Cal Shuman lost both legs. No one expects him to live very long. My God. Both legs, can you imagine?”

  He nodded, looking somber. “Jimmy Rhodes and Bob Winter are missing and presumed dead. I find it difficult to talk about the losses.”

  He stopped at the window and nodded toward a young girl standing outside at an easel. Her French blue cloak snapped like wash on a line, and dry leaves flew in a dervish about her. The whirling leaves brought him back to another hillside, where he’d held a young boy whose guts slowly bled out of him.

  “Is she a friend of Emily’s?” Emily was Hal’s younger sister, and best friend to Daniel’s sister, Abbey.

  Amelia squeezed his arm. “Daniel, Daniel! Does a pretty girl ever escape your notice?”

  He smiled. “I hope not!” He nodded toward the girl on the hillside, thinking she was pretty, but no Summer Rose. “It’s just that I don’t know her.”

  Amelia raised an eyebrow. “She is Fanny Leboutyn. Her mother was my cousin. Fanny is staying here for the winter, perhaps longer.” She smoothed her skirt and gazed fondly out at Fanny. “She has become a student of mine. Remarkable girl. She is American, but she’s spent most of her life in France with her grandparents. Her father is a famous engineer who has built canals, dams, bridges, and buildings all over Europe. Fanny lived an unusual life in Paris. She’s very talented, very attractive, and very French.” Amelia beamed at him. “Hal finds her fascinating. Can you imagine? She has a seventeen inch waist! He’s helping her Americanize her English.”

  Daniel lifted his eyebrows but didn’t bother responding. He knew Hal.

  Amelia, her attention now diverted to Mr. Stone and the noisy drinks cart, took Daniel’s arm and followed Mr. Stone into the library. She whispered, “Hal told me of Summer Rose. Is it true you asked for her hand?”

  “Not exactly, but I will ask her.” He lowered his voice. “… and, Amelia, I will marry her. You must help me. My mother will never forgive me for not marrying Mary. I know she’s Abbey’s best friend, and her father is a great friend of Father’s. But Amelia, if I wed Mary, I’ll be miserable all my life.”

  “Does this girl really disguise herself as a boy? Hal said she hunts and traps and lives alone.” Amelia wrinkled her nose as if she could smell the curing hides. “I don’t know if you should marry her, Danny. In Philadelphia, women can be very cruel. I know firsthand.”

  “Her manners are fine. Wait until you meet her. Just wait. Rough edges? She has none. Even if she did, I have no intention of living in Philadelphia.” His eyes glittered. “Amelia, just wait. You’ll see. She’s absolutely the most wonderful girl in the world.”

  Hal stood as they entered the library and moved to embrace his friend. “I told you, Mother. He’s been bitten.”

  The girls brought trays of coffee and hors d’oeuvres. Mr. Stone scooted them out to the hall then fixed drinks for the men and coffee for Amelia. Daniel and Amelia sat by the fire, welcomed by waves of warmth.

  Amelia petted Daniel’s knee. “So you’re set on this country girl?”

  “Tell her, Hal.”

  Hal picked up his whiskey glass and stood before the fire. “She’s special, Mother. Unspoiled, beautiful, intelligent, possessing a natural grace.” A corner of Hal’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Actually, she reminds me of you. She has no conceit and needs none.” A blast of November wind rattled the window and he closed his eyes. “The land is magnificent. If Daniel hadn’t claimed her first, I’d court her for the land alone.” He sipped his whiskey and his blue eyes sparkled. “I believe you might know her mother, Lillian Fitzmartin.”

  Amelia’s chin jerked up. “Lillian Fitzmartin? Why is she living out in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Lillian Fitzmartin died a year ago. It’s a long, convoluted story.”

  Amelia took a quick breath. “I didn’t know her, but I knew of her. I held her in awe. She came into my father’s gallery and admired my little paintings. She bought one, and because she was popular, I sold a number to her friends.” Amelia leaned forward and added a large dollop of brandy to her coffee. “And you know how that ended up. I married your father.”

  She shifted her attention to Daniel. “How are you going to break off with poor Mary?”

  Daniel took a drink of his bourbon. “A letter …” He drained his glass then shrugged. “How do I tell her she’s nice, but not enough? And my mother—”

  A spear of lightning crashed not fifty yards away, and the windows rattled. Fanny, the girl-woman-child, ran into the library and burrowed her face in Hal’s coat. “I hate storms.” Her small shoulders heaved.

  Daniel and Amelia exchanged a bemused glance as Hal took her cape and led her to a large wing chair in the corner. He knelt in front of her and pulled a crisp linen handkerchief from his sling, using it to wipe her tears. Daniel couldn’t hear what Hal said, but he watched as she nodded then patted her disheveled hair. Hal lent her his comb and tucked a loose golden strand in her chignon. When the storm moved on, he led her back to the fireplace.

  “Daniel, may I present Eleanor Frances Leboutyn, better known as Fanny. She is from France and is wicked at chess. She’s also a promising artist.” He squeezed the girl’s hand. “Fanny, I want you to meet my best friend, Major Daniel Wallace Charteris, better known as Danny. He is by far the most dangerous man in the Army of the Potomac—dangerous to women, that is. He’s useless in battle. Never stay alone in a room with him. Your reputation will be destroyed.”

  Daniel bowed and took her hand, kissing it as gallantly as any Frenchman. “Don’t believe a word Hal says. He lies. His reputation is far worse than mine, and he’s the one who is useless on a battlefield.” He winked. “He has been known to hide under his horse.”

  Amelia stepped in. “Pay no attention to these two. Come, sit down, Fanny. Perhaps you could help us with a little problem.”

  Fanny sat on the sofa as Amelia explained Daniel’s desire to break off with a girl to whom he was almost engaged. The girl graced them all with a bright smile.

  “Ah. I am very good at this. I have—what is the word?—dissolved two engagements.”

  “Two?” Hal exclaimed, sitting beside her.

  Amelia sat on the other side of her, looking surprised. “You don’t look old enough to have been engaged once, let alone twice.”

  Daniel watched, amazed by the realization that he didn’t want to flirt with Fanny. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a desirable girl, especially one Hal obviously wanted, and had felt nothing. But since Summer, not a single girl had turned his head.

  Her deep dimples flirted. “Oh, gentlemen, I just appear young. Promise not to tell anyone. I am seventeen, almost eighteen.” The fire crackled and reflected across her face, catching her hair so
that it flared orange-red. “The first betrothal was one of those childhood things. The boy next door and I promised each other when we were nine.” Her eyes dipped and her red-gold lashes fluttered. “At the time, we both were heartsick. The second wasn’t silly at all. Why do you think I am here in America? Jean-Paul and I tried to elope. We made it all the way to Calais.” She rolled her big blue eyes and made a chopping motion with her hand. “My father put a stop to that nonsense.” She brushed a curl behind her ear. “It’s Mary McGill, isn’t it?”

  Daniel nodded, feeling like a heel. He was well aware Mary deserved an explanation.

  Suddenly the tiny girl jumped to her feet, placed her hands on Daniel’s cheeks, and kissed him squarely on the lips, not once, but four times. And they were long, sensuous kisses. Her lips were locked on his. Over her shoulder, Daniel could see Hal and his mother, faces frozen, mouths ajar.

  She pulled away and settled again between Hal and Amelia. Grinning from ear to ear, she said, “Now I won’t be fibbing when I tell Emily I kissed the infamous Major Charteris, and more than once.” Her bright eyes danced. “You have a reputation, Sir. And Emily will tell your sister, who will be furious with you. And Abbey then will run and tell Mary. By tomorrow, you will receive a note from Mary.”

  She dismissed Mary with a wave of her hand. “She’s been making eyes at Captain Hathaway. I overheard her tell Emily she was tired of waiting around for you, so Danny—” She laughed again. “You don’t mind if I exaggerate a little about the kissing, do you?” She turned her head. “You don’t mind, do you, Hal?”