Catching the Rose
Page 26
“All memories were locked away. There was nothing I could do, so I forgot everything.”
“Cruel creature. My face didn’t spark remembrance?”
“You were older, and altered. Your name sounded familiar, but your attitude and coquettish flirting did not. You didn’t recognize me, so why do you accuse me so harshly?”
“I assure you, I had been led to believe you still lived in Richmond, rather, that Jack still lived in Richmond. It never occurred to me until the party, where I met you as ‘Lieutenant Jonathan’ and your mannerisms were so similar that I couldn’t help but compare.”
“You certainly seemed preoccupied that night.”
“You flirted abominably, could not make polite conversation, christened me ‘Jinx,’ recited from my favorite play, chose my favorite foods, reminded me of Brad and Jack, and bested Bentley at his own game. You were accomplished those four hours,” she said, counting the items on her fingers and ending the statement by hitting his crown in admonishment.
“Touché,” he said, rising to escort her back to the house. “We should go before we are long missed, Mrs. Stratford.” Brad noticed with extreme and well-hidden pleasure that Veronica absolutely flinched at the mentioning of her name. Perhaps not all was lost, he thought, drawing her hand through his arm.
* * * * *
March, 1862
Veronica found with much displeasure that life without Brad flickering about, was boring. To add upon the boredom and resentment, she was increasingly kept within her house. Her husband only approved visitations with a definite curfew, even when visiting home—for home was the least safe place for his wife in Bentley’s eyes.
With Brad’s devoted attentions to Bella, Bentley found his wife’s visits home more frequent. Watching Veronica through the parlor window, he entered the foyer with his hands clasped behind his back. Tonight, he would get answers. “Ronnie, why is it that every time you visit your mother, the visits last longer?”
Veronica awkwardly laughed, removing her bonnet with a shake of her head. “Don’t be silly, Husband. Sometimes I wonder whether you trust me.” She picked at her bonnet, knowing he would shout for ruining another expensive article. “Or perhaps it is not me you don’t trust. Are you still spoutin’ that folderol that Brad is in love with me? Do you understand how ridiculous that sounds?”
“It’s not as ridiculous as you sayin’ you only go to visit your mother. You haven’t spoken three words together in these past two years, and suddenly you come back, bubbly and chit-chatty, always wantin’ to talk to your momma.” He caught her blush, and allowed it to fuel his anger. “And you visit her even more so now that Williams is over there. He’s just tryin’ to get in good with you, Ronnie. I don’t like you goin’ over there to talk to him.”
“Well, of course not! Would any husband enjoy thinkin’ his wife thought the company of another man more attractive than his own? I swear, you’re as jealous as a honey bee. I’m not your queen, Bentley, so stop pretendin’ I’m perfect. Let’s just let this be. I’m tired and I haven’t been sleepin’ well.” Veronica ripped the gloves from her fingers, slapping them into her bonnet.
Nan, who waited beside her with careful boredom, accepted the articles. Though she longed to fight as Veronica did, she knew better than to interfere. Her bruises proved as much.
Head now pounding, Veronica moved to pass Bentley.
“I’m not done talkin’ to you!” He grabbed her arm, shoving her against the wall. She struggled from his grasp, and he again pushed her, making sure her head slammed into the wall with a resonating crack. “You are not to go over to Schönheitstal unless accompanied by me. I will not have the gossips talk about me as though my life is their fodder.”
“Is that what this is about? You know half of those women wanted to marry you, and the other half despise you. What would they have to gossip about?—You are no longer as rich as you used to be, you aren’t half so handsome as…other men, and your temper is atrocious!” she vainly pushed against him. “Let me go!”
Bentley paused, his gaze caressing her hair. It never shone half so well when Veronica knew she would meet him. “You know, Ronnie, this is the second time I’ve had to hold you still in order to talk to you.”
“The problem is you’re not talkin’ to me. You’re harrassin’ me.”
He vaguely felt a jolt of pleasure run through his arm as his hand contacted her soft cheek. Satisfied as he heard her whimper and recoil against the hallway table, Bentley bent down to grab her chin and force her gaze. He saw the defiance in her eyes—her father had often warned against that look. “I wouldn’t know whether you’ve been sleepin’ well or not. I have yet to share a bedroom with you.”
Veronica’s blush was deep as she jerked from his grasp. “Nan is here…you should be more prudent…”
“I want to know why my wife will not bed with me!”
“We have our entire lives before us, Bentley, surely you would not rush such…an event,” she nervously replied, her blush painfully bright.
“I will hang before I believe such an idiotic excuse.”
“And I will hang before beddin’ you, Mr. Stratford!”
“My name is Leigh!” he roared, pulling his hand back for another slap.
Veronica, seeing him pause when tears gathered in her eyes, picked up her skirts. She pushed her husband aside with a strength formerly censored and bolted to her bedroom. Glancing behind her, Veronica watched Nan unobtrusively step forward to pick something up, effectively tripping her new master.
Bentley threw her against the wall.
Veronica’s mouth dropped as Nan fell without aim or grace. She blinked away the tears quickly enough to see Nan’s eyes roll into her head as her mouth went slack. “My God—if he killed her…” Veronica spun behind the bedroom door and locked it shut, tears pressing against her eyelids. Screaming as Bentley slammed against it, she fell behind her bed. She struggled to breathe as her stays pressed against her ribs. Veronica rocked back and forth. She couldn’t help but listen to her heart overthrow the sound of Bentley’s pounding.
When she awoke the next morning, Veronica was relieved to find Bentley had given up. Embarrassed by her sprawled position behind her bed, she stood and worked out her kinks. She was surprised she had managed to sleep in her corset. Smoothing her skirt, Veronica stared at the door as it was politely knocked. “Yes?” she whispered, leaning against the door to hear the reply.
“Missy Ronnie, it’s me.”
“Nan!” Veronica threw open the door, jerking Nan inside and promptly locking it. “Nan, are you ok? I was so afraid…your poor cheek.” She was astonished when she realized her slave had come forth to help her dress for breakfast.
“Mr. Stratford’s orders,” she said, removing Veronica’s wrinkled dress and brushing her hair. “He say if you don’t come down to the table, I’ll be in trouble.”
Veronica spun to hug Nan, and then was silent as she was dressed for the table. She walked to the breakfast room with as much dignity as she could muster, and sat at the table with a civil nod. As was customary, she pulled out her needlepoint and refused to eat with her husband at the table.
Aggravated by her conduct, Bentley broke the silence by demanding, “Why do you not call me Leigh? We have been married three months and you still do not act familiar.”
“Husband, I have never been familiar with you. The familiarity of first name basis occurred only because we’ve known each other since childhood.”
“Why do you dislike me so?”
Veronica paused, staring at her needlepoint with a fervency that amazed him. “Sometimes there is no reason. I dislike you only because I do not like you. Sometimes, one does not need a reason, but a feelin’, Husband.”
“And I render this feelin’? Never mind. Your silence answers for you.” Bentley stood from the table, haughtily watching his wife refuse to eat. “I expect you to be ready for church. Don’t keep me waitin’, or else you’ll get what I gave Nan.”
Nan blankly watched her mistress slip into the hoopskirt and corset, effectively tightening them to an agreeable size. She helped Veronica into her Sunday best of gray cashmere. “Missy Ronnie, I know you are hurtin’. You hate Mister Bentley bad, and miss Mister Brad worse.” She involuntarily flinched, as Veronica frowned and jerked away.
Shocked, Veronica stared at her through the vanity mirror. “He slaps you when I’m not around, doesn’t he?” She sighed when Nan doggedly buttoned her dress. “If I knew a way out of this, Nan, I would take you with me. We’d go north and forget all about this.”
“Mister Bentley would only follow you,” Nan said, her gaze low.
Veronica was silent as her hair was drawn up. “What do you mean, I miss Brad worse?”
“You mope around here like you did in Richmond, when you thought he was that there Lieutenant, Ronnie,” Nan replied, blushing as Veronica smiled at her familiarity. “And when you come back from Schönheitstal, your face can’t hide your smiles. It’s dangerous, the way you go there and come here. Mister Bentley’s gonna give it to you good if you don’t back away from Mister Brad. He’ll kill you.”
“My husband can’t kill me. I’m not doin’ anythin’ wrong and I only go to visit my Momma and Amy and Madge. The only time I’m with Brad is when he walks me to the carriage, and that ain’t long enough to do anythin’.”
“Long enough time to get Mister Bentley jealous,” Nan quipped, handing Veronica her handbag and sending her out to meet her husband.
Silent on the way to the church, Veronica was strictly reminded of her duty to portray a happy wife before the congregation. She stepped from the carriage with Bentley’s aid, smiling into his face as though he was all she ever wanted to see. Smiling and waving to those she knew, Veronica felt someone staring. Afraid to turn, and yet compelled to, she spun to find Amy and Madge about to throw their arms about her.
“We have wondered at your absence,” Amy cried, holding Veronica close as she discreetly glared at Bentley. She grasped Veronica’s hand with a smile, as Madge leaned forward to fervently hug her as though they were the best of friends.
“Amy—Madge. I am surprised to see you here,” Veronica said, shocked by the attention and fearful Bentley would rip her from this suddenly amiable church service. Turning her back on her husband, she murmured, “What are you doin’? Are you tryin’ to get me in trouble? Madge, I am sure you are not so glad to see me.”
Madge smiled, rocking on her heels. Shrugging, she whispered behind her hand, “It really is not so bad as you might think, Nettle. My brother has explained all to me, and I must beg your forgiveness. Had I known you married Bentley to save us, I would not have been so harsh. Nor would I have dismissed your company because you refused my brother.”
“Your intentions were good, Ronnie, though the outcome unwelcome,” Amy murmured, clutching Veronica’s arm as Bentley reached for his wife. “Mr. Stratford! I am so glad you decided to come to services today—your pew has been empty for quite some time now and we were all afraid you had forgotten about the Lord’s house.”
Veronica’s shoulders slumped, as she dimly felt Madge take her other arm. The heat was unbearable, and if she did not find a seat soon, she was sure to faint. Tightly grasping their hands, Veronica was grateful for Amy and Madge’s contributed strength.
“Miss Williams, Miss Rachel,” Bentley curtly replied, bowing as though he hardly understood why he addressed such people. “Ronnie, will you keep the congregation waitin’?”
Blushing, she accepted her husband’s arm, mouthing her apologies as he pulled her into the church. She suddenly caught Brad’s gaze. He had been the one staring, not his female counterparts. Oh, how she hated him. He couldn’t leave well enough alone and stay home, could he? Veronica fixed her gaze, sitting in the Stratford pew beside her mother-in-law.
The services began with a resounding song dedicated to the southern cause, and continued with the priest discussing the evil of women and Negroes in charge of their own lives. Furious with his sermon, Veronica’s cheeks burned with unspoken questions. Turning to find Brad seated three pews behind and to the left, she closed her eyes and clasped her hands, determined not to catch his gaze again, nor listen to the sermon.
“Very good, Ronnie,” Bentley murmured, as they stood to sing. “I almost believe you were touched by his sermon today.” He opened the songbook and shared it with her, managing to quip, “Of course, I know the truth,” before the song commenced.
Ignoring his mumbling, Veronica balked beneath Brad’s stare, sure others had noticed. After the service, she was quite unwillingly drawn to him, as Bentley discussed the war with his other civilian friends. Standing in the shade, she felt his presence before she heard it. “You must leave, Brad. Have I not warned you enough before, that my husband will kill you if he sees us?”
Brad shrugged, handing her a rose from her garden. “I’ve kept it up for you, though your uncle swears he will destroy it before long.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, accepting it with a frown. “Now, will you leave?”
Taking her hand in his, Brad stepped closer. “What will you do without me here as an escape from your husband?”
Veronica shook off his grasp and stepped from him. “You will cause trouble. I beg of you to leave me alone!” though she meant to keep her tone below a murmur, her voice rose and Bentley caught it above the din of the exiting congregation. Gasping, Veronica grabbed Brad’s arm, pushing him away. “You must go, he is comin’.”
“I will not run like a child,” he firmly replied, turning to face her husband.
“Is there some sort of trouble, Ronnie?” Bentley demanded, focusing on how her hand clenched Brad’s arm like a lifeline.
“No trouble,” she said. “Mr. Williams was about to leave, weren’t you, Mr. Williams?”
“I was not about to leave, Miss Vernon, and I resent your tone of voice.”
“She is Mrs. Stratford,” Bentley growled, grabbing Veronica’s arm and jerking her to him.
“Not to me, she isn’t.”
“You have soiled my honor. What have you to say to a duel?”
“I have nothing to say, for I do not duel.” Brad sensed Veronica’s sigh more than heard it, and allowed a small smile in her direction. “I would not cause Mrs. Stratford harm.”
“So you are willin’ to admit she seems happy with me?”
“I am willing to admit she would resent you if you hurt me.”
Veronica shook her head, grabbing Bentley’s arm before he hit Brad. “He knows not what he says, Husband! I am sure it is the heat…the heat affects him abominably so…”
“How would you know such intimate information?” Bentley demanded, jerking from her grasp. “I challenge you to a duel, Williams, as I am sure killin’ you will be the only way to be rid of you. How is it, livin’ in the former house of my wife, knowin’ she visits only to ridicule you behind your back to me?” He waved away Veronica’s exclamation of outrage. “You are makin’ a fool of yourself, Williams, by comin’ forth to accost my wife in plain view of the congregation. And you bring your sister and cousin as if they would be able to confirm your supposed want of worship. I am sick of your presence, sir, and I challenge you to a duel!”
Turning to see Amy and Madge impatiently waiting by the Vernon carriage, Brad paled. “I cannot permit you to insult my family, Stratford. I accept your challenge, and say we should meet in the back lot of the Vernon plantation one week from now.” Bowing to Veronica, he snapped, “Your mother sends an invitation for dinner tomorrow nigh
t, Mrs. Stratford. She assumes your husband is busy with the war effort and so considerately decided not to invite him. If you would be so kind as to answer?”
“I—should be glad to see my mother. There are issues we must discuss.” Curtseying, she left for her carriage. Bentley was sure to give her an earful once inside.
* * * * *
“His pride has been hurt, Momma, and that is the matter of it. He will not listen to reason,” Veronica shot across the library, aiming for the sulking figure in the corner. “He has decided to duel against Bentley, though he knows my husband is the best shot in the county.”
“Brad, you cannot go!” Amy cried, jumping from her seat in alarm. So, this had been the reason Veronica accepted her mother’s invitation, though she knew she would receive Bentley’s wrath. A full day later the truth about Brad’s odd behavior emerged, and Amy could do nothing.
“I can and I must,” he muttered. The one time he wished Uncle Matt-rat be around to prevent the women from speaking their mind, the man wasn’t present to be called forward.
“Brad, have you no thought for anyone but yourself?” Madge asked.
Seeing Brad stare at his sister, looking quite haunted, Veronica felt overwhelmingly guilty. She had meant to talk to her mother privately about it. And to have Amy and Madge walk in while she argued with Brad had been rather inopportune. Though Brad effectively turned a deaf ear to his sister and cousin’s demands, Veronica could not sit there listening to them plead.
“He has already agreed to the duel, Madge, dear, and I am afraid he was thinkin’ of someone other than himself when he accepted. I wish he had not…you have no idea how I wish he had not been so foolish. But unless you-all leave tonight, there is no way he can run from…”
“I am not running from anything, Miss Vernon, and I am insulted to hear you speak such words. I am not a coward…I know my capacities. Do you think I could so eagerly agree to a duel without weighing the consequences?”