Summer Rose

by Caroline Hartman

  He stood with his boots in hand and his shirttail hanging loose. “I do have happy news, though. Hal and Fanny are here. I told you about Fanny. Well, they’re married; they eloped. Hal came over to General Stoneman’s house about ten, and I walked back with him. She’s pregnant. Amelia is furious, and his father doesn’t know, so pretend I’ve said nothing.”

  He took his boots to the door and set them in the hall, then hung his coat in the closet. He returned, dressed only in a loose robe of embroidered black silk. He fixed himself a drink from the bottle of bourbon Amelia had left on the sofa table, then came and sat beside Summer. He put his feet on the ottoman, and she wriggled close to him, resting her head against his shoulder when his arm came around her back. He gave her a sip from his glass and smiled when she made a face.

  “It’s an acquired taste.” He squeezed her hand. “Can’t be as bad as that tea you forced down my throat.”

  She rubbed her cheek like a kitten against his shoulder, and they sat for a long time in silence while the flames danced and cavorted, telling stories in their brilliant ashes.

  He finished his drink. “Hal seems happy, but he can’t be as happy as I am. Come to bed, Rosie. I’m exhausted. One thing about this house I especially like is that the sheets are crisp and stiff and smell wonderful.”

  He flung the black silk robe over the foot of the bed, and climbed in behind her. He sank his nose into the side of her neck and inhaled. “You smell delicious. What is that?”

  “Becca doused me with rose-scented water.”

  “Ask her to do that again.” He turned down the lamp until only the light from the fireplace lit the room. He didn’t speak for a moment, and she intuitively took his hand. “The sadness is so very hard. To see the general fading is difficult,” he said, then sighed deeply and pulled her close and rubbed a possessive hand over her hip. “Snuggle your bottom against me. I love having you next to me at night. I wake up and know you’re right beside me.” He lips found her temple, and he kissed her there. “I love, too that you’re the easiest person to talk to I have ever met. We need to sleep. We’re meeting your brother for lunch tomorrow at Willard’s. Smell the sheets. So fresh and crisp. If you keep wiggling like that you’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

  She wiggled again. “Daniel, that threat is no longer effective. I told you before, I like your kind of trouble.” She turned and kissed the side of his mouth. Her young, besotted husband was already sound asleep. She nestled up like a spoon inside his arms and whispered into the pillow. “Da, William, and Colin, please take care of him. I love him. He is my heart. Take good care of his general, too. He may come to you soon.”

  PART TWO

  MURDER BAY

  CHAPTER 22

  A DIAMOND AND RUBY

  BRACELET

  Daniel swore under his breath when he recognized his error. The bar at Willard’s was packed. Good Lord, they’re three deep. I should have brought her in the Pennsylvania Avenue entrance. A woman smelling of whiskey brushed against him; the bar vibrated with chatter. The men and women openly leered at Summer Rose. Although he understood she looked lovely, he didn’t want her exposed to this element. Daniel nodded, oozed diplomacy, and used his strong body to shield her as he moved toward the lobby. He spotted Henry Willard, one of the hotel’s owners, and steered her in his direction.

  Henry led them through the kitchen to the lobby. “Yes, yes, I know. He’s over here near the palm tree.” Henry bowed, kissed her hand. “Oh, Daniel, your father has a reservation at one o’clock.”

  Daniel nodded as her brother, much like a box turtle, popped his head out from behind the palm tree. He felt her shoulders jerk and watched her eyes brim with tears, as Jack McAllister, her brother, hugged her.

  “Congratulations, Summer. Daniel tells me you’re married.” He held her at arm’s length and turned her around, then kissed her cheek. “You’re all grown up and beautiful. Where did the little girl go?” He took Daniel’s hand. “Excellent work, Daniel.” He chuckled, looking again at his little sister, taking in her tailored dress of black wool with the exquisite lace jabot, and oval cameo. “She’s cleaned up nicely.”

  They all but crept, for Jack grimaced with each step, into the noisy, but elegant dining room. He seemed happy to see her and pleased that she was married to Daniel.

  Daniel ordered champagne, and they all decided on snapper soup, chicken salad, and fried oysters. Jack seemed uncomfortable. His neck kept twisting as if he wanted to see behind him.

  Finally, Daniel asked, “Do you want to change seats?”

  He did. Jack seemed to relax when he could see the room’s entrance.

  Summer told Jack how Daniel had taught her to shoot a Spencer rifle and about their wedding. “We’re just waiting now for General Buford’s health to improve.”

  Jack’s face contorted, and he coughed, his body twisting. When he settled, he nodded toward Daniel’s new shoulder straps, “Congratulations, I heard you were promoted.”

  Daniel shook his head. “It’s embarrassing. Both Hal and I now are colonels. Not because of merit. I think we’re filling up space on someone’s chart.” He shrugged. “I have brand new eagles on my shoulders and nowhere to go.” His fingers softly drummed against the white linen tablecloth. “Do you know where I’m going?”

  Jack’s shoulder jerked and he squirmed in his seat then straightened up. “I can’t tell you exactly where you’re headed, but I can tell you a little. Not much will happen until a commander is chosen to lead the Army of the Potomac. Enjoy the reprieve.”

  He took a sip of coffee and Summer was vaguely surprised to see he held the cup steady.

  “I also can tell you the generals won’t decide this time. President Lincoln’s hand is at the helm now. We’ve had great success out west. Grant, Sherman, and Sheridan are the rising stars at the moment.”

  After lunch they walked toward the lobby, and Jack told them both, “I’m very relieved to no longer have the responsibility of either the property or you, little sister.” He faced Daniel and his left eye gave a small tic. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”

  As they neared the door, Louis Woodward Charteris barged up to them. He was almost as tall as his son, with abundant dark hair and tanned skin. He took Summer Rose’s hand, kissed it, and bowed with old world charm. Except for the odd pale green of their eyes and a similar intensity, father and son shared little resemblance. He straightened, but continued to hold her hand. The Willard’s lobby buzzed with almost as much activity as the bar.

  “You do not need to introduce your wife, Daniel. She’s the picture of her mother, whom I had the honor to know quite well.

  “Welcome to our family, my dear.”

  Summer bowed slightly. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Charteris.” She turned and included Jack in their circle. “May I present my half-brother, Major Jack McAllister.”

  As Louie took Jack’s hand, he kept hold of Summer Rose’s. He told them he’d first met Lillian Fitzmartin at the Christmas Ball, the year of her debut. “I was an old married man by then, but for a few moments I fell madly in love with her. So beautiful, truly she was the belle of the ball.” He turned to Jack and continued. “However, your father, Major McAllister, quite literally, swept her off her feet. No one else ever had a chance.

  “Micah McAllister was a Renaissance man. He arrived in our city with his good name, a thick brogue, and thicker shoulders, and could charm any girl he wanted. He chose Lillian Fitzmartin. They were a popular couple. He was handsome, intelligent, and well-spoken. A magnificent dancer.” He glanced at his new daughter-in-law and said, “Your mother was gracious and eloquent. Then his small sons died so tragically, and they left.” He shook his head sadly. “One day they were here, the next they were gone. I heard they were living in the wilds. The two of you certainly don’t seem the worse for it. Daniel tells me you lost your parents and your two older brothers. I’m sincerely saddened for you both.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Charteris,”
said Jack. “We had a good life in ‘the wilds’, as you call it. I wouldn’t have traded those years for the world.” He bowed slightly. “I must get back. Thank you for lunch, Daniel. Good to meet you Mr. Charteris.” He bent and kissed his sister’s cheek. “Stay in touch.”

  Louis led his son and Summer Rose to a small grouping of chairs in a corner of the lobby and hailed a waiter. “Champagne, please. It’s not every day my son is married and promoted to colonel.” While they waited for their beverages, they spoke of Daniel’s mother and sister, Hal’s marriage, the deaths and wounding of several friends.

  “Father, when you go back to Philadelphia I’d appreciate you looking into something for Summer. Her grandparents, Ralph and Martha Fitzmartin, live near Chestnut Hill. They’re in a bad way. Both are ill. It’s heartbreaking. They have a competent housekeeper watching over them, who Summer writes to constantly.” He glanced at his wife. “We both would feel better if you’d send someone from your office to look out for them. I can’t take the time to go there, and I don’t want Summer traveling by herself. She’s their only relative. Would you contact Girard Bank and just check them out?” He turned to his wife. “What was the name on the letter?”

  “George Crenshaw.”

  Approaching lightening flashed in the windows as huge raindrops splattered against the glass.

  “I’ll check myself. I knew Ralph Fitzmartin years ago. What a shame. This war …” As the waiter poured the champagne, Louis looked at his son. “Did you walk?”

  Daniel nodded.

  Daniel’s father directed the waiter. “See that my carriage is brought round.” He raised his glass.

  “A quick toast, I’m afraid. I’m meeting Governor Curtin in a few minutes, and it’s pouring. Please make use of my carriage.” He stood glass in hand. “Best wishes and congratulations. Stay safe, Son.” He took a sip of champagne then bent and kissed Summer Rose’s cheek. “You are lovely, my dear.”

  Although his carriage waited under a portico, a doorman held an umbrella for them. As they settled into the plush interior, Summer spotted something sparkly tucked in the seat cushion. Her small fingers plucked out a diamond and ruby bracelet. She held it out to Daniel. “Your mother’s?”

  Daniel arched an eyebrow. “Not likely. I’ll run this inside.”

  CHAPTER 23

  BREAKFAST AND PLASTER DUST

  During the following fortnight, the weather turned truly wintry. Now snow pelted the windows and an inviting coal fire burned in their sitting alcove fireplace as Daniel and Summer dressed for another funeral, again at the Presbyterian Church on Thirteenth and “H” Streets. General Buford’s heartbreaking funeral was held there two days ago. The losses just didn’t stop.

  Summer looked longingly at the sofa, “I’d like to curl up here with a book all day.”

  Daniel, with bits of lather still on his face and his suspenders hanging loose, glanced at the freshly made bed and grinned. “I’d like nothing better than to curl up with you—not to read, mind you. However, duty calls.”

  Making a grand effort to ignore him, she stood in front of the mirror to put the final touches on another new outfit, a dark green, almost black suit. Black seemed to be the color of choice these days and even this forest green suit seemed bright. Amelia had assured her the green was the perfect thing for this funeral. For warmth, she had donned all her crinolines, all were white but one was trimmed with a delicate lavender ribbon. She swished the skirt to check that not too much color showed. Daniel came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

  He kissed the back of her neck. “You, my darling girl, look wonderful. No one will notice that touch of lavender, and I’ll enjoy knowing what’s beneath the somber green.”

  She sighed and gave up resisting his allure. She found something exciting about being embraced by her half-naked husband while she was dressed up. “Oh Daniel, I have to be the luckiest girl in the world.” She turned in his arms, spread her hands, and raked through the blond hair on his chest, brushing the soft curls about her fingers; her eyes, all serious and big, looked up at him. The pheasant feather on her hat bobbed near his eye, and her tongue flicked over her lips. Her words squeezed out between breaths. “Kiss me … please.”

  His wide mouth curled at the corners. “I’d be honored, my lady, but first …” he said as he removed her hat and set it on the little table by the door. “That feather’s a weapon.” He bent and kissed her deeply and tenderly then abruptly turned her around and gave her bottom a gentle swat. His other hand rested on the doorknob. “Get yourself out of here before I throw up your skirts and pin you to the wall.” He yanked open the door only to discover Grace and a maid standing there, each with an ear pressed to where the door had been.

  Grace let out a little gasp then smiled as she bent over searching for something. “Oh, Danny, be a dear, check for my garnet earring. Did it per chance roll under your door?”

  Unable to speak and with his mouth ajar, Daniel glanced about the floor and shook his head then closed the door and clicked the lock. He turned around, his look of shock replaced by a grin. He whispered. “They’re still out there. I can hear them giggling. Should we give them something worthy of eavesdropping?”

  She smiled with all her imp laughing in her eyes, then spoke in a voice both sultry and loud. “I like it better, darling, when you pin me to the mattress.”

  She turned and heaved herself onto the middle of the freshly made bed, her green velvet skirt and crinolines ruffled around her like the petals of a pansy. The big brass bed as well as the floor boards squeaked and complained.

  He landed next to her, making the bed thump against the wall and the springs squeal even louder. His hands, at the same time, dug into the mounds of lace. He had no intention of missing this opportunity. “A yelp or two from you,” he whispered, “will give them plenty to talk about.” He rocked the bed, which produced suggestive noises. His hands, at the same time, moved with the intent of creating similar rhythmic squeals from his wife.

  She let out a fake yelp as his hands burrowed amid the mountain of velvet and lace; she giggled and pulled him close. “If you keep that up, I won’t have to pretend.”

  At breakfast Summer couldn’t miss Grace Stone’s smirk at their late appearance. The serving maids giggled, too, and Summer suspected the entire household knew all the details of their private lives as she suddenly realized their bedroom sat directly above the dining room. She swallowed hard and somehow kept from blushing. She hoped plaster dust hadn’t sprinkled down on Becca’s lovely breakfast. As she smiled a good morning around the table, she watched her husband pull his earlobe. His pale green eyes latched onto Grace’s garnet earrings. “In whose keyhole did you find it?”

  She turned away to hide her grin as a crimson tide inched from Grace’s chin to the roots of hair. How she wished she had Daniel’s ability to turn a phrase.

  Harvey St. Clair, Amelia’s husband, stood and pulled out her chair. Harvey had arrived in Washington the previous evening. He planned to escort his wife to this weekend’s Christmas Ball. Now, Summer appreciated his courtly manners. If he noticed the tension between Grace and Daniel, he ignored it, and if he’d heard the thumping and squeaking of the big brass bed, no one would ever know it.

  As he pushed her chair in, he said, “I understand, young lady, you are a crack shot with a Spencer carbine. The President and Congress recently approved the purchase of 13,000 Spencer rifles and carbines for our soldiers. That’s quite a story,” he said as he took his seat and snapped open his napkin. “I happened to be there that day. Young Christopher Spencer, the inventor—he’s only 30—sauntered into the Executive Mansion, past the bodyguards, carrying the rifle and ammunition—thank heavens, he wasn’t a rebel—then he convinced Lincoln, Secretary Stanton, and me to come shooting with him out by Washington’s monument.”

  Harvey nodded with appreciation. “That did the trick. President Lincoln is a very good marksman. He approved purchase on the spot. Now a lot of our boys will
have repeating rifles. Louie and I already knew how good Christopher’s guns were. That’s why we purchased them for our boys last spring.”

  Again Summer swallowed hard, just now understanding what Daniel had done when he’d given her his rifle. “I’m learning, Sir. I’m not quite as good as your son, but—” Her eyes danced. “I’m a touch better than Daniel. I handle a knife best of all, Mr. St. Clair. My father made sure I could take care of myself.”

  Hal bounded downstairs, disheveled and yawning, and asked Becca to help him fix a tray. He sighed, his smile tight. “Fanny was up most of the night. She asked for some tea and toast, and I may as well take up a plate for myself.”

  He walked around the table and kissed his mother, then Grace. When he came to Summer Rose, he grinned. “Not black? You look lovely, Kip. The green becomes you.” To the table, he added. “I wish you could have seen her coming out of the pines, dressed as a boy with three pheasants all ready to cook on a thick stick. Danny and I were about ready to gnaw on our arms. We’d eaten nothing but jerky and wormy hardtack for days. We had no idea Kip was a girl.” His eyes narrowed. “How did we miss that?” He shook his head. “I’m not sure we would have cared. Once we saw those hens, we noticed nothing else. And this Kip wanted to trade them for mere coffee!” He chuckled and winked at Daniel. “If we’d been out of coffee, we might have shot you for those hens.”

  Daniel wiped his mouth with measured slowness and placed his napkin beside his plate. “I beg to differ, Hal,” he said, laying his hand over hers. He didn’t like Hal’s attitude, and Hal had regurgitated this story at least six times since they came to Washington. “I knew that night she was a girl. I also knew better than to tell you.” He smiled around the table. “Notice, I’m the lucky man she married.”