Scarlet Leaves

by Sonya Birmingham

  Silky thought of Delcie's advice to say anything that came to her mind, but a great lump rose in her throat. "II like it just fine," she finally managed, feeling a blush rise to her hairline. The gentleman regarded her as if he expected her to elaborate on the comment, but it seemed she'd swallowed her tongue and couldn't think of a single thing to add.

  Taggart placed her hand on his forearm and, in a protective gesture, covered it with his own. "My cousin is enjoying Richmond immensely, sir," he smoothly added, intervening and drawing the officer's attention to himself. "I'll vow she's visited most of the shops in the city, and we've scarcely been here a fortnight yet."

  The captain smiled and moved on to another couple.

  Silky held Taggart's gaze as if it were a lifeline. "Oh, I'll never be able to make it through the evening!" she whispered desperately.

  He caressed her back. "Come on, Fancy Pants, you can do it," he urged, mimicking her mountain drawl. His eyes

  danced with merriment. "Remember, a shy dog don't get no biscuits."

  The remark, made in an exaggerated accent, forced her to chuckle. From then on, she did feel a bit more relaxed, but much too soon it was time for dinner, and alarm rippled through her anew. Everyone started filing into the dining room, where Mrs. Cooke, a plump lady gowned in soft blue, greeted each guest with a smile.

  Silky walked into the huge chamber, Taggart at her side. He lowered his head and softly prompted, "If you'll relax, before the evening is over you'll be a success." That smile she loved so well hovered on his lips, boosting her courage.

  A twelve-candle chandelier sparkled over two of the longest tables Silky had ever seen. They were set with creamy china and gleaming silver, and above the tall arched windows, red silk drapes spilled to a glistening parquet floor. Servants dressed in frayed liveries were everyplace, already pulling out chairs and pouring water from silver pitchers. The scent of perfume and burning candles enveloped Silky as the guests closed in to find their place cards and take their seats. To her dismay she found she wasn't sitting beside Taggart, but across the table from him. Feeling that she might faint with excitement, she took her chair, then watched him sit down and nod encouragingly.

  As she studied the ladies at both tables, she could see everything was not as it had first appeared. Many of their gowns showed signs of wear, and her sharp eyes saw where flowers and brooches had been pinned over soiled or damaged material. Why, I'm the only woman in the room with a new gown! she suddenly realized, astonished at the revelation. Underneath their veneer of casual elegance the great ladies of Richmond were barely holding on, no doubt all wearing garments that had been made before 1861. And beneath their smiles, she sensed a desperation they bravely tried to deny.

  A tiny salad followed a clear soup, and with a sigh she looked about, hoping to start a conversation, but saw most of the guests were more interested in their pork-and-rice entree than in her. As she ate she glanced at an elderly physician on her right, who'd just experienced a coughing spell.

  At first she said nothing; then as she became concerned for his welfare, she unconsciously relaxed. Forgetting her prior failures and determined to enjoy at least one conversation that evening, she patted him on the back, searching his reddened face. ''If you'd treat that cough with goldenseal, it would be better before you knew it."

  The man stared at her in astonishment, then blinked his eyes, his medical curiosity seemingly provoked. "Goldenseal? Why, that's some kind of herb, isn't it?"

  Silky smiled, thinking she'd found someone she could converse with at last. "Yes, it is. Up in the Blue Ridge we can't get many bought medicines, so we use herbs like our great-grandfathers did. Granny Woodall uses goldenseal and she'll be ninety-eight this month." She chuckled knowingly. "I suspicion she's really older, but she shaved some years off her age when old man Ferris started courting her last year. They set up housekeeping about six months ago. That herb is a real invigorator. Granny has a rustle in her skin, and old man Ferris still plays a frisky fiddleif you know what I mean."

  Several of the ladies tittered, and soon all those about them put down their knives and forks and listened attentively. An older woman across the table smiled at Silky and, blinking with sheer curiosity, asked, "What would you prescribe for arthritis, my dear?"

  Silky tapped a finger over her lips. "Licorice root, motherwort, and mullein leaf," she answered thoughtfully. "That's what most folks in the Blue Ridge use. Some grind up a little grape root in that recipe, but those of us who've been doctoring a spell look askance at that." She sat back in her chair, seeing all eyes were upon her. "Ginseng is wonderful, too. The mountain folks call it 'sang, and it'll strengthen the body, calm the mind, and lift the spirits. If you take it regular it'll keep your hair dark, too."

  At first dead silence hung in the room; then Dr. Cooke, who sat at the head of her table, rumbled with low laughter, making her wonder if she'd said something completely out of place. Placing his water glass aside, he laughed until he turned pink, and gradually everyone else joined in. "I knew the little mountain flower would stir up our blood with her forthright ways," he commented, leaning back in his highbacked chair. "Most entertaining girl to come to this old city in years. She's working at the hospital twice a week now, you know. She'll be a tonic for us all."

  Surprise darted through Silky as everyone at the table shook their heads and smiled at her approvingly. Why, Taggart's advice about relaxing had made her a success, she thought with utter amazement. A warm glow rushing over her, she stole a look at his amused face. With a sigh of profound relief, she decided that the evening that had started out so badly might be fun after all.

  A half hour later Taggart finished his dessert, very aware the Southern officers were eyeing him with keen interest. He had to silently admit he was ill at ease socializing with Dr. Cooke's guests. The Confederates in Bear Wallow had made him feel uncomfortable, but he sensed he could outwit them. These men would not be deceived so easily. What were they thinking? he wondered, watching their assessing eyes moving over him, sizing him up. Did they suspect he was a Yankee this very minute?

  After dinner he took Silky's arm and escorted her back to the drawing room. "What did I tell you?" he murmured, scanning her pleased face. "You have them eating out of your hand now."

  She blushed and he watched her blossom into the belle of the evening. It seemed that Richmond society had accepted her colorful personality and found it delightful. No doubt after tonight her social acceptance would be assured, and tomorrow morning they'd be deluged with invitations. With a spark of amusement, he wondered what the highbrows would think if they could have seen her spraying bullets at him in old man Johnson's pond.

  She was besieged with bachelor officers who crowded about her, laughing at everything she said. Knowing his company wasn't at a premium at the moment, he wandered away from the group and mingled with some of the older officers. He shook hands with a captain who, to his surprise, was not a member of the medical service but assigned to Lee's Army of Northern Virginia. "Yankees are a damn treacherous lot, something like rattlesnakes, if you ask me," the officer hotly declared, his eyes deepening with hostility.

  Taggart, who was forced into listening to the man, could only guess how shocked he would be if he knew where his own allegiance lay. And how strange he felt wearing a Confederate uniformthe same type of uniform that Ned's murderers had worn.

  "All Yankees are a hardheaded lot," the captain continued passionately, his voice dripping with contempt. "They're plumb distracted on the idea the Union should not be divided." His lips thinned. "If they'd act like gentlemen, they'd realize we're only asking to withdraw with honor. Now that's something every real gentleman should understand, don't you agree?"

  A fire kindled within Taggart and he'd never wanted to speak his mind so badly, but he wisely reined in his emotions. From the corner of his eye he saw Dr. Cooke approaching with Silky on his arm, and, only too glad to leave the belligerent captain, he said his farewell and walked toward them.<
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  "Let me introduce you to some of our late arrivals, Lieutenant," the doctor offered with a congenial smile. "I think you'll find them very interesting."

  Escorting the pair across the room, he beamed at a lovely lady in powder blue, who sat by herself on a window seat, a pensive look in her large brown eyes. Taggart had noticed her during dinner, for she had a cool quality that set her off from everyone else at the table, but she'd been seated too far away for conversation.

  "This," announced Dr. Cooke, taking the lady's smooth white hand and pressing it to his lips, "is Miss Caroline Willmott, our hospital's lady bountiful. She heads the Chimborazo Benevolent Committee. I'll vow she has donated more funds to purchase medicine than anyone else in Richmond."

  Taggart's heart beat a little faster as he studied the woman, finding she did indeed fit the description he'd been given by the Information Bureaua wealthy Southern heiress, out of her girlhood years, but still very desirable. To find her here of all places seemed an ironic, almost unbelievable stroke of good luck.

  Dr. Cooke coughed discreetly. "You three get to know each other. Being Southerners, I'm sure you'll have something in common," he admonished before backing away to speak with some other guests standing by themselves.

  Silky, feeling very out of place, watched Taggart take Caroline's hand and brush his lips over her satiny fingers. "So glad to meet you," he murmured, excitement dancing in his eyes.

  A twinge of jealousy coursed through Silky. Who was this Caroline Willmott and why was Taggart so taken with her? Oh, she was beautiful, all right, beautiful in a way Silky could never hope to be, she thought dismally. A wonderful sight to behold, the lady's skin was as white as magnolia blossoms and her cheekbones high and finely sculpted. Her waist was small and dainty and her hands long and slender. Her exotic eyes glistened like jewels, her wide smile was enchanting, and every word she said sparkled with refinement. Why, she was perfect, absolutely perfect, and she smelled so wonderful, Silky thought, trying to identify the scent she wore.

  "So nice to meet you," Caroline offered, gazing at Silky with large, sparkling eyes. "I hope you find Richmond to your liking. I can see you've already captured a host of hearts."

  Silky's newly won confidence receded like an outgoing tide as she compared herself to the gorgeous creature on the window seat and found herself sorely lacking. This lady's tongue would never cleave to the roof of her mouth in a social situation the way hers was doing right now. "T-Thank you," she finally managed, almost overcome by the woman's powerful presence.

  Her heart dipped as the breathtaking lady swung her gaze back to Taggart. Oh, he was smittenanyone could tell that. His face virtually glowed as he scanned the lady's beautiful form. Why, he looked as if he'd found someone he'd been looking for all his life, she decided, feeling crushed and very insignificant.

  With a little start, she felt Dr. Cooke's hand on her shoulder. Half-numb with dread, she heard him say that he wanted to introduce her to someone else. She surveyed Taggart and the lovely lady, hearing the interest in their voices, and catching the excitement in their glinting eyes. How she wanted to stay, but she knew she must gogo with the good doctor, while this magnificent creature cast her magic spell on the man she loved with all her heart and soul. Her twinge of jealousy growing to something resembling a sharp pang, she held Taggart's eyes in a hesitant farewell.

  Taggart regarded Silky as Dr. Cooke led her away on his arm, noticing how pale and shaken she looked. He wondered what had happened to her budding self-confidence as he studied her thoughtfully for a moment; then, deciding he would speak with her later, he returned his attention to Caroline's expectant face. "May I sit with you a while?" he asked, anticipation bubbling through his veins like a heady wine.

  "Yes, of course," she murmured softly.

  She smoothed back her skirt to make a place for him on the window seat, and he sat down beside her, at once enveloped in her gardenia scent.

  "Where do you call home?" she asked, gazing at him with patient eyes.

  "Norfolk, miss, although I attended West Point and was stationed out West before the war," he answered, letting his voice be as natural as possible.

  Her gaze clung to his. "Yes, you've lost most of your Virginia accent, I fear." She studied him long and hard. "If I were guessing, I'd say you'd been born somewhere in the Midwest."

  Taggart knew he must let her know his true colors, but as he eyed the roomful of Confederates, he experienced a flash of concern. He noticed Silky stealing glances at him as she and Dr. Cooke talked to an older couple. How troubled she looked, he thought, making a mental note to come up with a believable excuse for his long talk with Caroline.

  Then, pulling in a long, ragged breath, he looked back at the lady's finely sculpted face, deciding he must make a commitment and take his chances. "That's because I was really born in Ohio," he answered softly, his heart thudding against his ribs as he took her hand.

  He held her startled gaze, noting a deep blush stealing over her creamy complexion. For several moments she only stared at him, her large eyes going liquid with speculation. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly in his, and a pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.

  "I've been in the city several weeks," he plunged on, "and every day I've wondered when I was going to have the good fortune to meet you."

  Her eyes glinted as his meaning flooded her mind.

  Gently he turned over her long, slender hand and, in the open palm, traced the letters U.S.

  Excitement flickered in her dark eyes, and she tightened her fingers about his in a sign of understanding. "They told me you were coming," she breathed in a soft, tremulous voice, her simple statement shot with deep feeling. "I've been waiting for you."

  The next day Taggart leaned forward on Caroline Willmott's settee to accept a cup of deliciously scented coffee from her own white hands. Dressed in a rose-colored satin gown, she sat upon an ornate Victorian lady's chair, her glistening skirts spreading out about her. An expensive cameo edged in gold glittered at her neckline, and her hair was pulled back softly and caught at the nape of her neck in a finely knitted snood. Aided by afternoon light flooding into the room, he noticed a few strands of gray shining at her temples, but somehow they only enhanced her mature beauty.

  After sipping the pungent coffee, he met her eyes and smiled. "This is a real treat, Miss Willmott. I haven't had a good cup of coffee for some time now."

  From an impressive silver service, she poured a cup of the dark brew for herself. "Yes, indeed," she replied with an answering smile. "I'm saving some to serve to General Grant when he enters the city."

  Taggart placed his delicate cup and saucer on the tea table that stood between them. "And when will that be?"

  Caroline's eyes shone with happiness. "Sooner than you think, Major Taggart. The general has taken over a sleepy little town at the mouth of the James, just east of Petersburg, called City Point. He has Union barracks there, warehouses, tent hospitals, and a rail line to bring fresh troops right up to the trenches"

  To hear someone address him as Major once more sounded strange to Taggart's ears. But he trusted this lovely lady, trusted her so much that he'd revealed his real rank in the Union army as well as the details of his present mission. Although Caroline had no idea how emotionally involved he was with Silky, she did know something of the twisted path that had brought them to Richmond.

  There were footsteps at the door, and, glancing that way, he saw a maid carrying a tray with plates and a small cake to the tea table. While the girl served them, he surveyed the opulent parlor, noticing red velvet drapes, an Oriental carpet, and an assortment of fine dark furniture, including a grandfather clock that towered in a corner, sounding deep Winchester chimes at fifteen-minute intervals.

  When the maid left the room, Taggart turned back to Caroline, wondering how a lovely lady like herself could have escaped marriage. And more important, how could such a sheltered person become an intelligence agent, of all things? "If I may ask you a pers
onal question?" he gently began, knowing no other way to broach the subject.

  She sipped her coffee. "Yes, of course, Major," she replied with a twinkle in her eyes. "But you need not ask it. I can guess what you're thinking, for I've been asked the question before. I'm sure you're wondering why I'm helping General Grant."

  Taggart nodded and, forgetting his cake, watched her face take on a thoughtful expression. "It's all my father's fault," she answered, a warm smile blooming on her satiny lips. "He had more money than he could spend and made the mistake of sending me to a Boston ladies' academy."

  Taggart chuckled. "I wasn't aware that a New England school could change a Virginia girl so much."

  A soft look flooded her eyes. "In my case it did. I had a professor who changed my mind about many things. He was an abolitionist, and after a few weeks in his history class, "I saw my whole upbringing in a new light." A blush stained her cheeks. "After I returned home, I simply didn't fit in," she continued, her voice roughening a bit with the memory. "My views were so different from those of the young men I met at the cotillions that I knew marriage with one of them was out of the question. And I must admit," she added with a wry smile, "I wasn't timid in expressing my views. Crazy Caroline, they called me. Crazy Caroline, who went north and became a bluestocking." She eased her cup into its saucer. ''They still shun me, but it doesn't bother me anymore. My professor taught me the importance of expressing my opinions."

  With a spurt of compassion, Taggart wondered if she'd fallen in love with the man, who, like most professors, would have been older than herself and probably married. How she must have struggled to maintain her integrity when she returned to a society that tried to force her into the mold of the traditional Southern belle.

  He leaned forward to place his hand over hers, marveling at her courage. "Now I see why your loyalties remained with the Union, but for such a person as yourself to become an intelligence agent is remarkable."