“Are you all right?” Katherine could detect no hint of suspicion, only concern, in his voice.
She managed a slight smile. “I think that it is really only nerves, Papa. Lieutenant Perkins has asked me to marry him.”
Her father followed her red herring. “And what was your answer?”
“I haven’t given it yet. I told him I would tell him this afternoon. And I can’t decide what to say.”
“I approve of Perkins, Katherine. I hope you accept him.”
“I just don’t—I don’t love him,” she said in a small voice.
“Love is not the only thing in marriage, my dear. Respect, similarity, companionship—all those are important, too.”
She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. “Perhaps I’m not worthy of him.”
“Come now, Katherine, don’t be foolish. You’d make the lieutenant an excellent wife.”
“If you don’t mind, Papa, I think I shall go home now. I must have a little time to think before the lieutenant calls.”
“Of course, my dear.”
Katherine, her tumbled-down hair hidden by her bonnet and cloak, started for home, but partway there suddenly turned and headed for a poorer, though carefully kept, section of Boston. Coming to a small, clean red brick house, she knocked on the big brass knocker. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a tiny, white-haired woman with bright black eyes.
“Katherine!” she cried, holding out her hands.
“Oh, Betsy.” Katherine rushed into her old housekeeper’s arms. “Betsy, I have the most dreadful problem.”
“Why, my dear, you’ve been crying. Whatever is the matter?”
Betsy guided her into a neat little yellow and white kitchen and seated her at the table, with a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies before her, just as she had always done.
“Now tell me all about it,” she said, comfortably settling herself into a chair across the table.
Her tale of woe tumbled out—the lieutenant, his proposal, her feelings for him, the Rebel raider captain (the latter a carefully expurgated account, since she could not reveal, even to Betsy, that more had happened than that he had kissed her).
“Now, now,” Betsy soothed. “It doesn’t sound so terrible.”
“Oh, Betsy, you don’t understand!” Katherine wailed. “I hate him. He’s everything that I despise—cruel, hard, rude, insolent, no respect for me or any woman. And yet I enjoyed his kiss! What kind of person does that make me? I can’t marry Lieutenant Perkins and let him discover this wanton streak in me. Yet he is the perfect husband for me—only I don’t love him. But I don’t want to be an old maid, with nothing in my life but teas and charities and gossip. I want—oh, I don’t know what I want. I can’t think straight.” Her jumbled thoughts poured out.
Betsy patted Katherine’s hand consolingly. “Katherine, I have never seen you so confused and disorganized. I think it can indicate only one thing: you are in love.”
“Nonsense.”
“Not at all. You’re all confused and upset because for the first time your emotions are engaged. You aren’t used to having your feelings try to control you, and so it makes you upset, and you try to fight it—and wind up feeling worse than ever.”
“But surely I would know if I were in love.”
“Sometimes people just don’t realize it. Or they won’t admit it. But if you aren’t in love with Lieutenant Perkins, why should you feel all this turmoil? It seems to me that you would be able to make your usual clear, rational decision.”
Katherine stared at her, considering.
“You have always had a great deal of love in you, Katherine, but you have been forced to restrain it. Now, when I was a girl, things weren’t as strict as they are now, even in Boston. People didn’t go around pretending they didn’t enjoy kisses. Of course, one must not give in to one’s impulses and be sinful and allow a man liberties before one is married, but it’s a normal and fine part of marriage. My guess is that you really want to kiss your young lieutenant.” She paused.
“Well, I have wondered what it would be like,” Katherine admitted.
Betsy bobbed her white head in emphasis. “Perfectly natural. You must restrain yourself until marriage, of course. But this silly notion that a young girl shouldn’t even want to be kissed is sheer nonsense. You love the young man and want him to kiss you, only you won’t admit it.”
“But what about Captain Hampton?”
“Oh, him!” Betsy sniffed. “You see, Lieutenant Perkins is a fine young man who respects you and wants to marry you. He wouldn’t dream of compromising you. So though he no doubt wants you, he will wait until after you are married. Whereas that Hampton fellow is one of those wild Southerners who has no respect for anything. He wants to kiss you and so he does, with no thought to your reputation. And you enjoyed it—there’s nothing wrong in that. It would be sinful, of course, to give way to your passion, but it’s only natural to feel it. Particularly when you are desirous of being kissed—even though by a different man.”
Katherine traced a tiny crack in the table with her finger, mulling over what the old woman had said. It made sense in a strange way. If Betsy said it was all right, then it must be. Perhaps she did love the lieutenant; perhaps that was the reason for her turbulent feelings; perhaps she had enjoyed the captain’s advances because she wanted Perkins to do those things to her.
“But what should I do?” she said finally.
“Why, accept your lieutenant. You must channel these instincts of yours into their proper outlet. I think you love him, but even if you don’t, you still have the basis of a good marriage. I came to love my husband more and more every year of our marriage. And it will be the same for you, my dear. Marry Lieutenant Perkins. And steel yourself against Hampton. Don’t allow him to make any more advances to you. He has no love for you, no respect, and you no love for him. It would be wrong to let him have his way with you.”
Katherine drew a deep breath. “You’re right, of course, Betsy. I shall be quite chilly and remote with Captain Hampton, and should he try again, he will find there is quite a bit of fight in me. And I think that I shall accept Lieutenant Perkins.”
Betsy, seeing Katherine’s chin lift in her usual determined way, beamed. “I am sure you are doing the right thing.”
Her mind made up, Katherine cheerfully settled down to enjoy her chocolate, sugar cookies, and a good gossip. She left an hour later and returned home where Pegeen, somewhat puzzled at her mistress’s erratic behavior, was nevertheless pleased to hear that she had decided to accept Lieutenant Perkins’s proposal. The maid skillfully redid Katherine’s hair, and then Katherine retired to the library to read while she awaited Lieutenant Perkins. Pegeen could only shake her head in wonder at the other girl’s calm. If it had been she, Pegeen knew, she would have been all in a dither.
Lieutenant Perkins fortunately called during Aunt Amelia’s afternoon nap, and Pegeen, who opened the door to him, quickly ushered him into the library before any of the other servants could see him. Then she took up her post at the foot of the stairs, where she could distract Miss Fritham if she came down from her room.
When Pegeen quietly closed the library door behind him, Perkins paused uncertainly. Katherine arose from her large leather chair, greeting him with a smile and an outstretched hand.
“Why, Lieutenant,” she cried when he took her hand, “your hand is as cold as ice.”
He managed a weak grin. “Frankly, Miss Devereaux, I am scared to death.”
“Of what?”
“Your refusal.”
Katherine smiled. “Well, you needn’t be, Lieutenant, for I accept your proposal of marriage.”
He looked stunned. “Miss Devereaux—I mean, Katherine. Oh, Katherine.” Fervently he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I never thought you would. I was at the point of despair.”
He seated himself on the sofa and drew Katherine down beside him, still retaining her slender hand in his grasp. For
several minutes he simply gazed at her, seemingly incapable of speech. He felt dizzy at the closeness of her, at the sweetness of saying her Christian name, at the wonder of her acceptance. Achingly he yearned to trace the outlines of her face with his fingers and to kiss her invitingly wide mouth. Suddenly he realized how soon he would have to leave her and how desperately unsatisfying it would be to be only engaged to her.
Katherine waited, a little disappointed. His eyes certainly glowed in a loverlike manner, but she had hoped that he would take her in his arms and kiss her as Hampton had. A tiny sigh escaped her.
“Katherine, is something wrong?” he asked anxiously.
“No, it is only that last night, when you gave me all the reasons for wanting to marry me, you never said—does love enter into it at all?”
“Katherine, how can you doubt it?” he exclaimed in a shocked voice. “My God, yes, I love you. I worship you. You must know that.”
A little hesitantly he reached out to cup her face in his hands, then bent to kiss her lips. His lips were firm and warm; his kiss, close-mouthed and brief. Katherine felt a stir of disappointment. Was this a husband’s kiss? Was this what Betsy had meant when she spoke of her husband’s kisses replacing Hampton’s? But this wasn’t the sort of kiss she had meant at all!
“Do you think that we could marry before I leave?” he asked.
“But, Lieutenant—I mean, William, that’s only four days away. We couldn’t possibly—”
“I know; I know,” he sighed. “I was just hoping. Look, I brought your ring.” He pulled a gold ring from his pocket. “Your engagement ring, not your wedding ring, of course. It was my grandmother’s. I hope you like it If not, I can—”
“Nonsense. Of course I like it; it’s quite lovely.” Katherine slipped it onto her ring finger. It was a plain, narrow gold band with a square onyx stone set in it, very simple and yet beautiful against her slender fingers. Suddenly she felt like crying.
Chapter 5
Aunt Amelia was predictably appalled. She received the couple’s news with a fixed smile and, as soon as the intended groom left, collapsed on the drawing room couch in a fit of hysterics.
“Katherine, whatever am I to do?” she wailed.
Katherine, grimly pacing, said, “Oh, hush, Auntie, you’re giving me a headache. What do you mean, what are you to do? Just think, now this house will be yours to run.”
“Amanda will die! She’ll say I’ve never had any control over you—and I haven’t. She’ll say none of her daughters would ever do a thing like this.”
“Well, I am not one of her daughters. And if I were, I certainly wouldn’t let her browbeat me, like those ninnies do—and like you do.”
“Katherine, please. Fetch my smelling salts; I think I’m going to faint.”
“Oh, stuff and nonsense! I’m the one who’s just become engaged. If anyone has a right to the vapors, it’s me!”
“You never had an attack of the vapors in your life, and you know it.”
“I certainly haven’t.”
“Well, it just isn’t ladylike.”
“For Heaven’s sake, Auntie, sometimes you make me want to curse like Mr. MacPherson does at his crew!”
Her timid aunt burst into full-fledged tears. “Oh, Katherine. I never meant to anger you. It’s just that it’s so wrong—he isn’t of your class.”
Katherine stared out the window, absently twisting her ring. There was a cold, awful feeing in the pit of her stomach—what if she had done the wrong thing? She was committed to him now forever, and the vastness of it made her tremble. How much more familiar and pleasant to spend the rest of her days here, with her family and the things she knew and loved. Why, he was a stranger, really, and she had just pledged herself to spend the rest of her life with him.
“His family is a bunch of nobodies from Nantucket! And you could have had Mr. Stephens.”
“I didn’t want Mr. Stephens.”
“Why did you have to rush into this? Why couldn’t you have waited to become engaged until after he returns from this trip of his?”
“He wanted to know we were engaged before he left.”
“Well, we can at least wait until he returns to have the engagement party. It won’t be official until then, and you can still retract your acceptance.”
Her poor aunt, in her usual bumbling way, had said the wrong things. The light of battle sprang into her niece’s eyes. “Indeed?” she snapped. “Well, we shall have an engagement party before he leaves.”
Amelia began to fan herself with her handkerchief. “But, my dear, think. He leaves in four days. We couldn’t possibly get together a ball on four days’ notice!”
“Not a ball. Just a small dinner party, for family and friends. After all, he’s still in mourning.”
Her aunt seized upon this. “But you can’t possibly get engaged while he’s in mourning.”
“Oh, Aunt Amelia, there is a war going on. If everyone waited until mourning was over, there would be a total halt to all parties and balls and weddings. I intend to marry him as soon as he returns, so we must have the party now.”
“But, Katherine,” her aunt’s voice was deeply shocked, “you can’t mean you are not going to be engaged for a full year. It just isn’t done.”
“I am sick to death of hearing those words.” Katherine was rapidly working herself into a heat. “Open your eyes, Aunt Amelia. Men are dying by the thousands. No one stands on ceremony any longer. What does waiting the proper period of time mean when your fiancé may be dead by then! I plan to marry William when he returns, whether that is a year or six months or three weeks. And that is absolutely final! I refuse to even discuss it any longer.”
“Oh, Katherine,” her aunt moaned.
Katherine did not return to work that week. For one thing, her fiancé called on her every afternoon. For another, she had too much to do preparing for the engagement party. She had to write and send invitations, all without the help of her aunt, who had taken to her bed, prostrate with shock and grief. Her dressmaker was making a dress for the occasion—a special rushed order for which she must be constantly available for fittings. Pegeen kept trying new hairdos on her until she managed to come up with one pretty enough for a bride and subdued enough for Katherine. Most of all, there was the party itself to plan for. Katherine decided on a large, elegant dinner, with fifty of her family and friends attending. The ballroom had to be decorated, tables and chairs brought in, flowers ordered, the meal planned—all with wartime shortages and delays. And through it all, she had to withstand a constant barrage of disapproving visits from Amanda Miller.
Aunt Amelia had notified her sister immediately, of course, and Amanda had come over the day after the engagement, every aspect of her (even her clothes) bristling. She stormed to no avail and finally left, but she did not give up. Time and again she returned to try a new tactic or repeat an old one. Katherine either listened in white-lipped fury or stormed back at her. Her final visit on the afternoon of the dinner turned into a battle royal. Katherine was already nervous and exhausted from the rushed preparations, and it didn’t take long for her composure to crack.
“After all the things Amelia and I have done for you, to turn against your family like this!” Aunt Amanda wailed after delivering her usual lecture on the inadequacy of Perkins’s family and finances.
“I would hardly say I am turning against my family, Aunt Amanda. Father is in favor of the match.”
Amanda airily waved away her father as insignificant.
“As for what you and Aunt Amelia have done for me—I really fail to see what you have done. Saddled me with a fluttery, silly, crying woman who is worse than useless. Given me constant, unwanted advice and criticism. Tried to foist your son on me. Believe me, I would have been much happier without your aid!”
“Katherine, how dare you speak to your own mother’s sister like that! I have never been so offended in my life. You have always been a stubborn, heartless child, with absolutely no respect for your
elders. Not a bit of consideration for our feelings. How am I to ever hold my head up in society again, with you married to that common, penniless Perkins person?”
Enraged, Katherine picked up the closest thing at hand, a delicate crystal vase, and hurled it against the wall, where it crashed with a satisfying sound. Her aunt stared at her, dumbfounded.
“I’ll not have it!” Katherine roared. “Lieutenant Perkins is to be my husband, and I will not hear another word against him. I am used to the criticism you heap on me, but I refuse to listen to you revile Lieutenant Perkins. If you cannot refrain from it, then I must ask you not to come here.”
For once in her life, Amanda was speechless. Haughtily she stalked to the door. In the doorway she turned and said, “To think that I would ever live to see the day when my sister’s child would turn me out of her house. Poor Alicia.” Theatrically, she dabbed at one eye with a handkerchief. “I’m glad she is not alive to see this.”
The look in Katherine’s eyes at that remark made her leave hastily. Katherine sat down and indulged in a small fit of tears. There were times when she even felt amazed and appalled at what she had done.
She could receive no lover’s reassurances from William, since Aunt Amelia chaperoned them as closely as ever—she was not about to relax her vigilance just because they were engaged. So their talk was confined to speculations on when he would return, tentative wedding plans, what sort of house they would have, and general talk of the War. After the South’s defeat at Gettysburg, with the North’s blockade stranglehold, and with the Mississippi River in the Bluecoats’ hands since the fall of Vicksburg, surely the war could not last much longer. The spring offensive would certainly bring an end to it. So might not this be William’s last tour of duty? Happily they conjectured that within a few months he might return forever. Always, however, there lay between them the unspoken thought that he might not return at all, that he might be killed in the last gasp of the Southern rebellion.
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