Veronica calmly took her letter, not understanding what Everett could have written to her, a person whom he had known for the majority of three weeks. “Pardon,” she said, leaving the room to read the letter in privacy.
“June, ‘61
“DEAR RONNIE—I have extensively asked about your comrade, and for quite some time I was at a loss as to how I would be able to find him, for it seemed no one knew a man your age who moved from South Carolina to Richmond.”
“However, we did find someone named Jonathan, who moved from South Carolina to Richmond after a much exhausting search. Supposedly, he only lived here in Richmond for one year before moving north—his father is a merchant, so I am not surprised that he seems to move frequently.
“I am sorry to tell you this, for I know how much you looked forward to seeing him. Please accept my apologies that I could not discover more about him. I hate to leave you and Amy, for, as you took care of me in my time of need, I feel indebted.
“If I catch any word on a Jonathan in any prison camps (for I assume he would be a Yankee), I will send you word.
“Forever indebted,
“RHETT HARRIS.”
Veronica felt quite bitter. She had depended on Everett finding Jonathan so she wouldn’t have to return to Bentley. Turning to find Amy slide into the room, she waited for something to be said. The distressed look on Amy’s face was rather disconcerting as Veronica heard her whisper, “Ronnie, why did he go?”
Veronica stood to guide Amy to a chair, holding her close. “I’m sure Rhett felt he couldn’t sit and let his brethren go while he sat with a bunch of women.” Hearing Amy choke on a sob, Veronica glanced at her letter, desperate to distract. “Rhett found that Jonathan moved north, Amy. Jonathan is a Yankee now.”
“He’s an idiot,” Amy burst, grabbing for her handkerchief.
“Jonathan?”
“No, Rhett. He’s an absolute idiot. I bet you anythin’ he was at Manassas. He didn’t date the letters on purpose, I’ll wager.”
“You can’t be serious, Amy…Rhett wouldn’t be so rash!”
“Ha. He could be just that rash,” Amy whispered, burying her face in her already wet handkerchief. Life never seemed to go the way one wanted, she thought as Mrs. Beaumont burst into the room with a bright smile.
“I was just talkin’ with Madge, who I must say is a sweet little gal and I am glad you brought her back south with you. I wonder what it was like for her, to be born southern, be brought up Yankee, and then return to her homeland. She must be thrilled, I wager. Well, anyway, that is beside the point.”
“Yes, Mrs. B, what is the point?” Veronica exclaimed, feeling Mrs. Beaumont’s verbosity a bit too much to take after such hard news.
“I was gettin’ to that, dear. Anyway, we, Madge and I, were wonderin’ if you-all would like to have a party in honor of the rebels beatin’ the yanks at Manassas. We could even make it rather masquerade like. I know all these other houses are takin’ in soldiers from the battle, and I swear that I will do the same, but really. We must have some revelin’, don’t we? It will make the victory more fun, and less gory, I think. Do you think so? Oh, dear…is there somethin’ wrong with Amy?”
Veronica jumped to Amy’s rescue as she quickly asked, “Madge was wonderin’ about havin’ a party for us Seceches?” At Mrs. Beaumont’s insistent nod, Veronica met Amy’s gaze and tried to swallow her laughter. Madge certainly was trying to fit in.
Amy sniffled, regaining control of her emotions as she blearily smiled and said, “We would be right glad to have that party, Mrs. Beaumont. It would take our minds off the war.”
“Amy, did you hear? We’re going to have a party!” Madge hesitated upon noticing her cousin’s composure. “Oh! Have you been crying?”
Amy stared at her cousin, shocked that she dared mention her loss of composure. There was evidently a lot Madge had to learn before the party, where the southern aristocracy would scrutinize her. The task seemed so daunting, Amy could not hold back her tears as she snapped, “Do you think I do this to my face on purpose?” and rushed from the room.
“What is she crying over?” Madge asked in all amazement, all the more aggravated when Veronica waved her question aside. “You are just not content unless you are the center of attention are you?” she demanded, storming from the room to find her cousin.
Always willing to pretend an emotional outbreak had never happened, Mrs. Beaumont looped her arm through Veronica’s and led her to the dining room, where she chatted for half an hour without interruption about how she should decorate her house. “Have you any ideas, Ronnie?” she finally asked, handing Veronica a glass of lemonade.
Veronica was roused from her thoughts only long enough to muse, “We once had a masquerade party.” As Mrs. Beaumont continued her mindless chatter, Veronica wondered why Brad had been so amiable when she left Washington. If she wasn’t mistaken, it almost seemed as though he had warmed to her little idiosyncrasies. Perhaps Veronica had made him fall in love with her—wouldn’t Amy be pleased!
“Ronnie? What do you think about these decorations? Oh, dear, I completely forgot to as you…did you bring my basket back? I remember tellin’ you it was a thing of sentiment, as Mrs. Johnson gave it to me, and I simply wondered…”
“Leave your house as it is,” Veronica dazedly said, oblivious to Mrs. Beaumont’s bemused expression, “and the basket is in the kitchen.”
* * * * *
July, 1861
Veronica was yet again dismayed to see Amy awaken with bags under her eyes. But as Veronica knew she could do nothing without seeming intrusive, she left Amy alone. Lounging in the library, Veronica played chess against Madge: they had concluded that if they could not battle in their usual verbal fashion, they would thusly solve each argument. Amy sat on the floor, reading a much-despised French novel, for there was nothing else to do.
A knock at the front door interested the girls, but they were much too comfortable to move. They watched Maum Jo receive a letter left by the boy at the door, and smiled at each other as she hobbled forth to award Amy with the message.
“What is it?” Madge said, leaving her seat to read over her cousin’s shoulder. It was good timing, for she was in the process of losing the game to Veronica. Leaning forward in a bored curiosity, she said, “Amy, what is it? Surely, you cannot hide something from me. I am almost your sister, you know.” Madge didn’t recognize the handwriting…it was cramped and slanted. She managed to find Rhett’s name in the message before Amy jerked away, her eyes ablaze with anger. Madge was surprised: displeased she had been caught. “I cannot believe you would be so cruel as to hide something from me, Amy! Ungrateful wretch—sometimes I don’t know why we took you in.”
“Leave me be,” Amy snapped, surprising both Madge and Veronica with her unpleasant tone and dark countenance. She ignored how Veronica’s eyes widened as she returned to the letter. An involuntary cry escaped her as her hand flew to her mouth.
“Amy, what is it?” Madge demanded, reaching for the note as though she had some right.
Veronica was shocked by Madge’s horrible behavior, and decided to promptly say so: “Stop this immediately, Rachel!” She grabbed Madge’s arm and dragged her from the room, slamming the library doors behind them. Not commenting when Madge reclaimed her arm, Veronica watched the Yankee girl sulk as she said, “What is wrong with you, Rachel? I am heartily ashamed, that I had to sit there and watch you speak in such a way to a girl who has been most kind to you!”
“Amy is my cousin—my family. Family takes precedence over friendship.”
“You, who is jealous of anyone who comes near? Is that what family is? How kind of you, Rachel, for enlightenin’ me,” Veronica replied, knowingly smiling as Madge frowned. It always pleased her to play the fool, and then release her thoughts freely to further shock her audience. “In Amy’s time of need you berated and yelled at her. How would your brother feel, if he saw you actin’ thusly?”
Veronica opened the l
ibrary doors to back into the room, leaving Madge with a final thought: “Funny, isn’t it, that you should come all this way, free from your brother’s constraints—only to be inhibited by, of all people, me?”
The room was silent.
Amy, notwithstanding Madge’s and Veronica’s argument, sat motionless on the floor, her hands embracing her face and her shoulders stationary. Silent tears, Veronica felt, were always harder to bear than audible sobs. The letter lay on the floor, a forlorn piece of paper, she thought. Veronica picked it up slowly enough for Amy to halt the motion if she so felt.
“July 21, ‘61
“MY DEAR MISS WILLIAMS—I have the unfortunate pleasure…No, it is not pleasure with which I write to you. As lately I remember, you found my Rhett wandering the streets of Richmond, and here and now I must write that I am forever glad it was an old family friend who found him.”
Obviously, the writer had not been privy to the reason Amy had ‘found’ the prodigal son.
“I hear he became close with Miss Vernon. We hope you shall pass this sad news, and send our love and disappointment, for I am sure you know we hoped to gain another daughter.”
Veronica recoiled in surprise. Surely, the Harris family had given up that idea when it was evident her relationship with Everett was purely platonic. She glanced at Amy, who still sat with her hands covering her face. It was as though she waited for Veronica to finish.
“In any case, the purpose of this letter is not to dwell on what we wished to be. These past two months have been most eventful, for, as you know, you found our son after our worry and torment. Rhett wrote us a letter explaining himself, as well as his location and the bill to Mrs. Beaumont, a kind lady, to be sure. He spoke warmly of your attentions, as well as Miss Vernon’s, though he made it evident that our wishes were not to be, for she is, as he wrote, ‘unhappily engaged.’
“Soon after you left to visit your family, Rhett returned home with the outrageous plan to join the army. I am sure you know this, for he admitted leaving letters. With all my warnings, he still is a headstrong boy and would not heed me.
“As I predicted, with all those men in tight quarters, sickness spreads quickly. The purpose of this letter, dear Amelia, is to tell you of Everett’s death. He sustained a wound at Manassas, only to die from infection. One wonders at the qualifications of the doctors, to let such a strong boy like my Rhett to die of an absurd illness. In any case, I am sorry to burden you, but as you were such a good friend, we felt it only right you should know.
“Yours ever,
“CAROLINE HARRIS”
Veronica dropped the letter and threw her arms around Amy. “Amy, please speak.”
“Well. I am not surprised, then, that my letter should have come back.”
“When was one sent? You have been keepin’ secrets!”
“I sent one when in Washington, and it returned with this letter. Evidently, Rhett never received it, and it was sent home with his belongings,” Amy replied, striking Veronica by her calm manner. She blinked as Veronica loosened her hold to ask, “Amy, have you no need to grieve?”
“It shall be done at a better time and place. I knew such a day would come, and I find myself quite content in knowin’ that our last moments together were in mutual congeniality. I grieve not because of his departure, but because I knew I would have to grieve at his funeral, if in fact he were lucky enough to receive one.”
Amy sighed and looked about her in a dazed fashion. “Where is my cousin? The urchin should read the letter and understand her mistake.”
“Ah. So, you did not hear our little disagreement,” Veronica laughed, settling into her hoops as she continued, “I was afraid of it, but now I wish you had heard me. I am sure you would have laughed, seein’ her face, as Rachel is so convinced that I am of no condition to judiciously speak.”
“I do not understand why Madge is so foolish…she is twice what I originally thought of you, if you pardon my meanin’.”
Veronica laughed. “I am glad to see you so talkative. Perhaps your mode of mournin’ is one I should have tried with my father’s death.”
“May I question you about…your father?” A nod from Veronica urged Amy forward: “Why is it you have so few emotions concernin’ your father’s death? I was silent for weeks before my aunt and uncle could invoke me to speak. And even then, it was only to my cousin Brad that I spoke profusely.” She decided against mentioning this event happened a year after the incident of her father’s death, as that was a detail easily looked over.
Hesitation seemed to suit Veronica. “He was a dipsomaniac.”
“Your father was liberal with his alcohol?”
Veronica dryly laughed, as she replied, “Very. It is why I was not as alarmed as one would suppose, when Rhett first showed himself. True, true, I was hysterical at first. But I am quite used to—” She was interrupted as Madge threw open the doors and suspiciously gazed at them, declaring, “I will not allow this, Amy! I am your cousin—your blood relative. I deserve to know what was in that letter you so scornfully kept from my view! So, what is it? What was in that letter?”
Amy glared at her cousin, her anger making her tone low and dangerous. The sound sent shivers up Veronica’s spine as she said to Madge, “Sit down. No, not on the floor. Not with Ronnie and me, for I am sure you do not deserve the familiarity you have been so used to. Not with your jealous mannerisms. The entire reason why you came south was to learn patience from Veronica, and I shall be very disappointed when I write why you are come back from Richmond to my aunt.”
Veronica drew away from such claims with a blush, which grew brighter as Amy rushed to explain, “You are polite and kind, hopin’ Mr. Stratford will learn his lesson, but to no avail. Ronnie, you have kind, quiet manners, though when pleased you are quite…animated. I have no greater wish than that my cousin learn from your excellent example.”
“I daresay you have learned much from Brad, Miss Vernon. You preach just as he does,” Madge retorted, enraged that Amy, her favorite, would admit disappointment.
“Insolent girl! Be glad I only say this, instead of being more physical as I am sure Brad would be,” Amy warned. “You are a great girl yet, but he would not object to takin’ you over his knee as he often did when we were young.”
“He wouldn’t dare! I am sixteen, too old for such treatment.”
Veronica frowned, musing, “And yet, I do not see a sixteen year old manner about you. Why do I invoke such passionate feelings of distrust and disparagement? I have done nothin’ but try. And try as I might, I have not been able to climb that high wall of expectation you have built about you.”
“I do not need to hear this,” Madge began, about to leave.
“You are not jealous of me, then?” Veronica ventured.
“Of course not. What a ridiculous thing to ask.”
“Then you shall not be behavin’ in such childish way anymore, I assume,” Amy smiled at her cousin, determined to get her admission. Pleased when Madge resentfully nodded and left the room, Amy turned to Veronica and said, “Well, that was eventful. I feel much refreshed. I feel as though I should take a turn somewhere…perhaps we could plan the party? Or choose which dresses we are to wear?”
“Amy—”
“Perhaps we could walk the street and see if any of your posh friends will recognize you.”
“Amy, dear, the party is planned, and we have chosen our dresses. Or, at least you have chosen your dress. You are tired from your grief—I can see it in your eyes—and you should not ‘take a turn’ as you put it so jolly-like. Dear, sit still.”
“I am a blight, you know,” Amy said, moving to stare out the window.
“What?”
“I am a blight,” she further explained. “If I succeed to convince myself of this, I shall feel much better of the entire situation. Then, I may blame myself and walk through this quite cheerfully.” Knowing Veronica would be confused, Amy quickly changed the subject and soon after left to ponder alone in
their bedroom.
* * * * *
Veronica sighed. It was the night of the party, and she just wanted to forget her troubles and have fun, like at the parties back home. “Madge, seriously! I am sick of hearin’ about how disappointed you are that Brad could not come.”
Madge sat from her sprawled position, a slight smile highlighting the bored expression on her face. Matching Veronica’s steady gaze with her own, she replied, “How can I help it? I miss him dreadfully.”
“And yet you are not eager for his speeches, I am sure,” Veronica quipped, laughing as Madge hesitated. “Aha! I have caught you there, have I not?”
“What is the to-do in here?” Amy asked as she walked into the parlor, ready with a book. “I have not heard such hilarity for days, now. What have I missed?”
“Madge, after rantin’ about her beloved brother and his faultless traits, hesitates now that I ask why she does not treat his preachin’ with as much reverence.” Veronica smiled, glad to see her friend in benevolent spirits. “Are you not excited for the party, Amy?”
“Quite,” she said, settling into the chair in Rhett’s fashion. The sun was lowering, though there was still enough light left in the room to read a book by the window, and, knowing that the evening would not go well unless both Madge and Veronica were appeased, Amy said, “What shall we read tonight, girls? I am in a very pensive mood, and quite undecided in my choice of readin’.”
“I don’t feel like it tonight. Why don’t we talk? Readin’ will calm me, and I am in the mood to be jubilant,” Veronica grumbled, flailing her arm out as she lounged on the sofa. Pouting, she played with one of her blonde curls, and wished Nan had not done her hair quite so nicely so early before the party: it prevented more leisurely relaxation.
Catching the Rose Page 13