The Lady and the Officer

by Mary Ellis

  Elliott tried not to show his disappointment. “What can I do for you, Mrs. O’Toole? Would you like to have a seat?” He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.

  “It’s Miss, and I’d best not sit.” The woman slid her palms down her skirt, drawing attention to two dark stains on the fabric. “Seeing that the Duncans don’t know I’m here.” She giggled as though amused by her comment.

  Elliott found nothing funny as he sat down. “Perhaps you should explain the reason for your visit. I have a pressing engagement later this evening.”

  Miss O’Toole’s grin faded. “I’m the maid. I knows all ’bout the suppers before singing Christmas songs. The three of us got a devil of a time figuring out who owns those bowls they leave behind to wash.”

  Elliott merely stared silently at her. Any comments from him would only delay whatever business this woman felt she had.

  “But I seen a couple things since you started calling on a regular basis. You and that nice Major Penrod. He seems quite smitten by Miss Eugenia, don’t he?” Miss O’Toole arched her spine, pleased with her observation.

  Elliott’s jaw dropped open. This maid dares to comment about Miss Duncan and a respected member of Jefferson Davis’s elite staff? “I have accepted Mr. Duncan’s gracious invitations to dine, but I fail to understand what concern that is of yours, Miss O’Toole.”

  Paling to the color of watered milk, the scrawny maid shifted her weight to the other hip. “I’m not stupid, Colonel. I got eyes in me head, the same as anybody. I see you might be a wee bit smitten with that Yankee, Miz Howard. Thought you better have a look-see at this letter I found.” She withdrew a wrinkled envelope from under her frayed shawl and held it out to him.

  “What have you done?” For several moments, Elliott sat stunned by the woman’s boldness. No servant of the Haywoods—neither slave nor free—would ever overstep common decency in such a way.

  When he made no move to accept her offering, she laid it on top of his scattered papers. “Somethin’ I thought I needed to.”

  Helpless to stop himself, Elliott peered at the water-stained handwriting. The letter was addressed to Mrs. Madeline Howard in care of the Duncan residence with a return address of only two lines: Major General James Downing, Army of the Potomac—Fourth Corps. A major general, while I’m only a brevetted colonel? “Where did you get this?” he asked, finally rousing from his stupor.

  “From Miz Howard’s room.” The maid’s lower lip began to tremble, evidence her bravado was slipping. “You should read it, sir. That there’s a love letter. I might not be long off the boat, but I’m a Southerner. She’s not playing you right. That man says he loves her and countin’ the days till the war’s over. What she doin’ here in Richmond if she got some Yankee general sweet on her?”

  The colonel didn’t know what to say, where to begin. His life thus far hadn’t prepared him for this. Because she was an employee of John Duncan’s, throttling her would be inappropriate. Slapping the presumptuous, ill-bred woman across the mouth was also out of the question. His sweet mother would turn over in her grave. Yet on the other hand, this sort of behavior could not be tolerated or Miss O’Toole would take encouragement from his inaction.

  Pushing himself up from the desk, Elliott stood and straightened to his full height of six feet in an attempt to intimidate her. “You have made a grievous error if you assumed I would welcome an act of thievery by a maid. If I make your actions known to Mr. Duncan, you would be immediately turned out into the streets. I would imagine plenty of freed slaves seek domestic positions in the city.”

  His comment released the wind from the woman’s sails. Her eyes turned moist and glassy.

  “I will assume you were motivated by loyalty and patriotism to the Confederacy, and so I will overlook this travesty this one time. But any further intrusion into Mrs. Howard’s private life will not be tolerated. I will insist the Duncans fire you on the spot.”

  Kathleen’s hands bunched into fists, but she kept her voice controlled. “I understand, sir.”

  “Even though it’s none of your concern, Miss O’Toole, Mrs. Howard has already told me of her affection for someone else. As friends, she and I are respectful of each other’s political opinions and well aware that they differ. Furthermore, Mrs. Howard is Mrs. Duncan’s niece—blood kin. I suggest you return her personal property posthaste and don’t ever overstep your bounds like this again.” Narrowing his eyes into a glare, he pushed the envelope to the edge of the desk.

  Miss O’Toole hesitated only for a moment. “All right, I’ll put it back where I found it.” She grabbed the letter, jammed it into a pocket, and ran out the door.

  It took a while before Elliott’s heart stopped pounding and murderous thoughts no longer filled his mind. How he’d yearned to read the contents, to determine whether Madeline’s paramour was truly a man of flesh and blood. Until now, he’d deluded himself that her mystery beau was nothing but a coquettish ploy. But in the end, he behaved as a gentleman because she had behaved honorably. She hadn’t deceived him. She’d said from the beginning that her heart belonged to another man.

  Although not personally acquainted with General Downing, Elliott had heard about the commander of the Union Army’s Fourth Corps. His valor on the battlefield, including a penchant for leading instead of ordering troops to the front, was legendary. Of course, a general becomes an easy target for artillery or a sharpshooter’s bullet while sitting on his horse. Elliott immediately shook off the cruel, un-Christian notion. He wouldn’t wish another man dead merely because he desired a woman.

  A second, more helpful thought came to mind. This Kathleen O’Toole might be the reason that pompous newspaperman had cast aspersions on Mrs. Howard. Yet for now, Elliott would do nothing about the audacious maid. The last thing he wanted was to seriously upset John Duncan or Mrs. Howard with Christmas less than a week away.

  Madeline searched through her bureau for the third time. In exasperation, she overturned the drawer onto her bed and dug through her camisoles, bloomers, and chemises, but still couldn’t find it.

  She’d tucked the letter from General Downing under her underpinnings after rereading it a half dozen times. How could it disappear into thin air? She planned to dash off a reply and then head down to the neighborhood supper before caroling. With the Duncans out for the evening, perhaps Micah would have a chance to check the docks for the Bonnie Bess. With the recent spate of rain, perhaps Captain George hadn’t made his usual run up the Chesapeake Bay and back.

  Hope sprang eternal for women in love.

  Madeline sprawled across the bed amid the assortment of clothing and tried to think. Her aunt and uncle had never ventured into her room since she’d taken up residence. As far as she knew, Esther had entered only once. But the cook would have no reason to remove the letter because she had been the one to deliver it. That left Eugenia or Kathleen. And one of the two suspects just strolled into her bedroom.

  “Goodness, what on earth are you doing? You’re already dressed for the evening. Why are you looking for more… underpinnings?” Eugenia giggled behind her hand.

  Madeline rolled her eyes. “I’m searching for something that was hidden underneath them. By any chance have you seen a letter addressed to me?”

  “A letter from a secret admirer?” Eugenia fluttered her lashes. “Who from?”

  “If I told you, it would no longer be a secret. And a lady never tells.” Madeline pressed an index finger to her lips.

  “Oh, what great fun. No, I didn’t rummage through your bureau, but I will help you look.” Eugenia unceremoniously picked up fistfuls of dainties, shook them, and tossed them back into the drawer.

  Madeline stopped her with a gentle hand. “I didn’t think you would do something like that, but I had to ask. I’m certain where I put the letter and now it’s gone.”

  Eugenia needed less time to guess than it took to put the drawer back in place. “I imagine it was that loathsome Kathleen. I’ve caught her pulling faces b
ehind Mama’s back. And she’s always creeping silently around the house as though trying to catch me… or you… in some naughty act. What does she think we do when no one’s watching?”

  “Kathleen was my choice too.” Madeline perched on the blanket chest. “But I dare not accuse her with not a shred of proof. She wouldn’t find another service position without Aunt Clarisa’s recommendation.”

  “You can’t ask Kathleen now because nobody knows where she is. Mama is fit to be tied. Neighbors and ladies from her guild will arrive within the hour, along with several members of the home guard, and our maid isn’t here to help Esther and Micah.”

  Madeline felt a frisson of anxiety for no reason. “Where do you suppose she went?”

  “She told Mama she had a personal errand that couldn’t wait until her day off, but she would be back shortly.” Eugenia leaned close to whisper. “Perhaps ‘shortly’ has a different meaning in Dublin than it does in America.”

  “Don’t be unkind.” Madeline scolded with little enthusiasm. “She still struggles with the English language.”

  “Let’s worry about Kathleen later. Come help me pick out my jewelry for tonight. Major Penrod has already seen this piece twice.” She fingered the broach on her bodice.

  “You look beautiful, Genie. If your mother is worried about tonight, why don’t we go downstairs and lend a hand?”

  Eugenia slipped an arm around her waist. “You’re so considerate, Maddy. That’s why Mama hopes you’ll stay in Richmond after the war is over.”

  Madeline returned her hug. “Thank you, but my home is in Pennsylvania. I plan to return there someday.”

  “What about Colonel Haywood? He hovers by your side each Friday evening.”

  “I value his friendship, but he will not change the future.”

  “But surely the missing letter was from Colonel Haywood.” Eugenia’s brows knit together above the bridge of her nose.

  Madeline weighed several responses within the span of a few seconds. James risked his life on a daily basis to lead his troops and serve his country. Although she wouldn’t purposely mislead the colonel to gain information, she shouldn’t burn her bridges too soon. “As I said, we won’t discuss the letter, and let’s not put the cart before the horse regarding Colonel Haywood.” Flashing a grin, she hurried out her bedroom door.

  Downstairs, Esther and Micah were buzzing between kitchen and dining room like bees before the first frost, while Aunt Clarisa wrung her hands and paced the long center hall. Madeline entered the kitchen just as the elusive maid slipped through the back door, less than ten minutes before the first guests were to arrive. Kathleen’s hands and face were wet from washing up at the pump, and her long red braid hung limply down her back.

  Madeline stepped into the maid’s path. “I would like to speak with you for a moment.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me, Miz Howard, but I need a fresh cap and apron, and then I need to get to the front door. Miz Duncan will skin me alive if I’m not there to greet folks bringing in bowls of food,” Kathleen said as she tried to step around her.

  “Then you should have better planned your outing. This is important, and it will only take a minute of your time.” Madeline crossed her arms.

  Kathleen’s eyes flashed with an evil glint, but she quickly composed her bland face. “What do you want to ask me?”

  “I had a letter in my drawer. It’s no longer there. Have you seen it? Perhaps you misplaced it while you were cleaning?”

  “I didn’t take your letter. You probably dropped it in the garden. You’re always walking outside all hours of the day or night.” She sniffed as though personally affronted by Madeline’s behavior. “Or maybe you left it in the pocket of your day dress when it went to the laundry. It’s probably dissolved in the bottom of the washtub.” She tried again to circumvent her tormentor, but Madeline grabbed the girl’s wrist.

  “I didn’t take it from my room or leave it in any pocket. It was hidden, and now it’s gone.”

  Kathleen tugged her arm back. “Maybe a widow-woman shouldn’t be getting love letters from Yankee generals. Maybe she should keep her mind on sewing and packing up food for the poor.”

  “How would you know the letter came from a Yankee if you never saw it?”

  Her voice faltered as she realized her mistake. “I-I saw the envelope when puttin’ away your clothes, but I didn’t take it. Don’t be accusing me falsely, Miz Howard. I’ll help you look once I’m done in the dining room, but let me pass now.” Her plea sounded desperate.

  “All right, we’ll search together when I return from caroling.” Pivoting on her heel, Madeline preceded the maid from the kitchen. She felt mildly sick to her stomach, but with her aunt and cousin waiting in the parlor, she plastered a pleasant expression on her face. When she reached her cousin’s side, she gasped. In Madeline’s estimation, the neckline of Eugenia’s gown grazed the bounds of decency.

  Is this a ball or a troupe of Christmas carolers spreading good cheer through the streets?

  Aunt Clarisa noticed her reaction. “Kathleen, fetch a shawl for Miss Eugenia. I feel a chill in the house, and I don’t want her to catch cold.”

  Oblivious to her mother, Eugenia peeked between the curtains at the sound of the first carriage. “Oh, my. It’s Major Penrod and Colonel Haywood. Joseph said he would bring the carriage so we could ride to the first church.” Her young face glowed with anticipation.

  “I thought the whole point was to sing down the streets and lift people’s spirits during this holy season,” Madeline said, looking over the girl’s shoulder toward the hitching post.

  “That’s true, but Major Penrod’s parents will be at the first stop.” Aunt Clarisa tucked a stray lock of hair into her bun. “A lady shouldn’t become perspired or be spattered with mud if she wishes to make a good impression.”

  Madeline nodded with agreement as she hurried into the foyer to greet their guests. As usual, Colonel Haywood was first across the threshold.

  “Mrs. Howard, may I say you’re looking lovely this evening.” He swept off his plumed hat and bowed low.

  “I suppose you may, Colonel, since you have already uttered the words.” Stifling her laughter, Madeline offered a small curtsey. The colonel gazed at her as though stymied, while those within earshot chuckled. If she stayed in Richmond another ten years, she would never understand these Southerners.

  THIRTEEN

  SUNDAY

  Clarisa waited until she climbed into the coach and they were headed home after Mass. Then she broached the delicate topic she’d been stewing about with her husband. Eugenia had attended the Methodist Church with Major Penrod, and Madeline had accompanied Colonel Haywood to the Episcopal cathedral. With Micah topside driving the conveyance, John and Clarisa had a rare moment alone.

  “I’m troubled,” she stated abruptly, having no time to dance around her dilemma.

  “What about, my dear?” Her husband placed a gloved hand atop hers. “Christmas is mere days away. I’m sure Saint Nicholas hasn’t forgotten sweet little Clarisa.”

  “Oh, John, really.” She squeezed his fingers. “How like you to cheer me up, but I have no need of possessions I don’t already own. I’m worried about the girls, both Eugenia and Madeline.”

  “What about? They both seemed to be enjoying the season. We haven’t had as many festive parties as in years gone by, but I thought the Jacob suppers have worked out splendidly. So much good cheer without families emptying their larders of the last crust of bread. Our ensemble has gained additional carolers each week.” Without warning, the carriage hit a pothole so deep they both slid toward the floor. “Great Scott! Is there no man left in town to patch these craters? We’ll break an axle before spring if this keeps up!”

  “Calm yourself, husband. We just came from Father Michael’s inspiring words at Mass.” Clarisa patted his arm with affection. “And I agree the Advent events have been a blessing for Eugenia. Without the caroling and the New Year’s Eve ball to look forward
to, she would simply ‘expire from boredom.’ Those were her exact words.” Clarisa drew back the carriage curtain to peer at the shuttered homes they passed. Many plantation owners who also owned houses in town apparently would be spending the holidays in the country.

  “What do you mean by ‘ball’? I agreed to a dance, nothing more. Despite my daughter’s fondness for excess, anything extravagant would be deemed tasteless by our friends.”

  “Only by those who have become too poor to throw a ball themselves,” she muttered. Clarisa smoothed the creases from her best Sunday dress, noticing for the first time how frayed the cuffs were.

  “Clarisa Endicott Duncan, I’ve never heard such words come from your lips.” John feigned an expression of indignation.

  “I don’t wish to be unkind, merely honest. Suddenly, everything that was fashionable before the war no longer is because of the infernal blockade. Eugenia isn’t the only one who has grown weary of the somber mood this Christmas.”

  “Parents have lost sons, dear heart. Perhaps having one daughter was a blessing in disguise.” John’s mouth pulled into a frown as he slipped an arm around her. “Richmond isn’t the only place feeling the pinch from the Yankee navy. Gunboats are blocking ports all along the seacoast.”

  “President Davis instructed those at home to be strong and carry on while our boys fight valiantly. He and Varina will still throw their January ball. I do hope you’ll allow us to attend.”

  “You’re that certain of an invitation?” He laughed with amusement.

  “Yes, I am. Varina remarked about the good work the auxiliary at Saint Patrick’s has been doing for the Cause.”

  “This is what you wished to discuss with me—the social season of our once vibrant city?”

  Grinning, she leaned back against the supple leather cushions. “Goodness, I sidetracked myself. No, I wished to discuss something to keep Eugenia and Madeline busy during the winter months. They have endured sewing for weeks with the ladies, but they both abhor it and frankly neither is very good. They only come to be of service.”