The Lady and the Officer

by Mary Ellis

  “Is the Duncan butler a slave?”

  “Not no more. He’s a free man.”

  Weems shook his head. “I would need more than the word of a black man and a maid who hasn’t been in this country for long. Especially if I’m to pay greenbacks or gold coin.”

  Kathleen was ready to stomp inside the house. She’d had enough of his insults and looking down his crooked nose at her. But the mention of money kept her tongue in her head. “How much? A gal gotta take care of herself. This country ain’t no different than my old one in that regard.”

  “I’ll pay you fifty dollars, but you must catch Mrs. Howard in the act of snooping through Mr. Duncan’s important papers with someone else to corroborate… back up your story. A witness who’s not a slave or a former slave. Another maid at the very least. Or get your hands on her letters to Yankee officers. I would wager my eyeteeth she’s saying plenty more than sweet words of love.”

  “Fifty dollars gold? I’m not risking a job for Confederate script. Some shops don’t want to take it anymore, and it don’t buy very much.”

  “Yes, gold, but come to my office at the newspaper with your information. I don’t like walking these streets late at night. Too much riffraff lurk in the alleys. They would cut a man’s throat for the coins in his pocket.”

  “I’ll get you proof Miz Howard ain’t the sweet little gal these folks think she be. You make sure you got my money. I gotta hankering to move down to Georgia. I hear Savannah treats Irish folk better than these Redcoats.”

  “Redcoats? What on earth are you talking about? The citizens of Richmond are loyal to the Confederate States of America.”

  “Everybody who comes to the house has kinfolk in England. That means they were once Redcoats.”

  Weems rolled his eyes. “Just get me what I need, Miss O’Toole. Then you can head to Savannah or even back to Dublin for all I care.”

  Kathleen hurried toward the house as the newspaperman disappeared into the shadows. She could almost feel the gold jingling in her pockets.

  SEVENTEEN

  Elliott stopped in front of the Duncan house forty minutes prior to the start of the Sunday morning service. In this weather, driving an open carriage didn’t make for an enjoyable experience, but without a chauffeur at his disposal, he couldn’t very well borrow a friend’s box coach. At least Micah kept the walkway clear of ice and snow. After his second knock, the tall, imposing butler swept open the door.

  Micah bowed and stepped to one side. “Good morning, Colonel. Are Mr. and Mrs. Duncan expecting you?”

  “No, they are not. I’m here to take Mrs. Duncan’s niece to church.” Elliott strode through the door and removed his hat.

  “Is Mrs. Howard expecting you, sir?”

  Elliott frowned pointedly. “No, she is not, but you can inform Mrs. Howard that I’m not leaving until she speaks to me. I shall wait for her in the parlor.”

  With a respectful inclination of his head, Micah turned and vanished down the hall.

  It was a breach of manners for him to enter the Duncan parlor uninvited and without his host’s knowledge, but Elliott had waited long enough for the elusive Mrs. Howard to emerge from her shell. He paced the floor for ten minutes before his Northern friend and one-time savior entered the room.

  She wore a scratchy-looking gray dress more suited to a New England schoolmarm than Richmond’s latest seductress of innocent soldiers. The garment hung in a straight line to the floor without benefit of hoop or stiff crinolines. Her blond hair had been braided and coiled at the back of her head without a wisp or tendril to soften the effect.

  “My word, dear woman, two days away from our civilized culture and your appearance has altered dramatically.” Elliott bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

  “You have me at a disadvantage, Colonel Haywood. I didn’t send word that I would attend church today. How did you even know I had returned to town?” She walked past him to the windows, which overlooked the street.

  “Come now. Everyone in this part of Richmond knows of your ill-fated trip to Culpeper, thanks to Kathleen. Your uncle should fire that viper and send her back to the wharves.”

  With her back to him, she stood motionless as a statue. “Then you must also have heard that I was rebuffed. Have you come to gloat over my misfortune?”

  Elliott clucked his tongue. “Goodness, your opinion of me has fallen significantly in so short a time. What have I done to deserve your contempt?” He approached the windows and paused when he stood a foot away from her.

  “Nothing. Forgive me, Colonel.” She turned to face him, her expression registering surprise at his proximity. “I shouldn’t take my bad temper or my shame out on you. I have no one to blame except myself.”

  “Maybe no one is to blame. You were following your heart to see where it would lead. When people are old and gray, rocking on their front porches, then they can behave with predictability.”

  “So you encourage women to make fools of themselves in such a way? And in the process lose the respect of family and friends alike?”

  “You haven’t lost my respect. I’m overjoyed you won’t pine over this unworthy General Downing for the rest of the war. His loss is… the Duncans’ gain.”

  “If not to gloat, then why have you come, Colonel? I don’t wish to discuss this personal matter with you or anyone else.”

  “I thought my motives would be obvious.” Elliott let a moment pass as she watched him curiously. “I’m here to take you to church, which begins in less than thirty minutes.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’re not serious. I can’t walk into St. Paul’s.”

  “Why not? Surely you’re not mad at God because you had a lapse of judgment. Look at the mercy He showed Eve after she disobeyed a direct order.”

  “Of course not, but I’m no longer received by the good people of Richmond. I was dismissed at the doors of two different homes, leaving Eugenia humiliated. What a poor way to return my family’s kindness,” she added, more to herself than him. “The highest echelons of Richmond society attend the Episcopal church. Perhaps by spring I could slip in the back of my aunt’s Catholic church and sit in the balcony with the free blacks and slaves.”

  “I’m pleased you haven’t lost your keen wit.” Chuckling, Elliott placed his hand on her shoulder. “But church is the one place you can’t be turned away. Even the unwashed beggars, the fallen dissipates, and the most loathsome criminals are welcome in the house of the Lord.”

  “Thank you for your accurate analogy, Colonel.” A tiny dimple appeared in her cheek. “I will send word to you next Sunday should my courage rise to the necessary level.”

  “Nonsense. I thought you were a horsewoman back in Pennsylvania. Didn’t you climb back on the beast after each time you were thrown? The longer we wait, the more terrifying the prospect grows in our minds. To stop the gossip, you must appear on my uniformed arm. That should quiet most of the wagging tongues.”

  “Or their gossip will include you in nasty speculations.” She arched an eyebrow.

  Elliott stiffened. “Do you think I care what those pretentious dowagers say about me?” He pulled out his pocket watch. “Go get your wrap and bonnet. Unfortunately, there’s no time to change out of that morbid dress. I suppose one can say it’s your sackcloth and ashes. Go, Mrs. Howard. If you want to remain in Richmond, you must hold your head up high and act as though you’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Other than ride the westbound train to see my Yankee general at the army’s winter camp?”

  “We can discuss your ill-fated journey another time or not at all, however you prefer.” Elliott snapped his watch case shut. “How brave are you now?”

  She bit her lip and then suddenly seemed to make up her mind. She turned, went swiftly up the steps, and then reappeared a few minutes later with her cloak and an atrocious bonnet.

  “A perfect choice of millinery with that particular dress. The younger ladies will never believe you’re a siren among Confede
rate officers.”

  She tied the ribbons into a ridiculous bow. “And the elderly matrons?”

  “They’ll be pleased as punch you now dress like them.”

  Despite her burst of bravery, his companion said little on the way to St. Paul’s. Devout parishioners were flowing into the cathedral from both directions. “Could we wait until they ring the bells and then find seats in the back?” She sounded like a little girl asking favors from a stern grandmother.

  “Absolutely not. We’re walking up the center aisle to the Haywood family pew. If we don’t claim our rightful place, some ruffians will sneak in as squatters.”

  When several heads on the street swiveled in their direction, Madeline kneaded her hands like bread dough. “You’re making a horrible mistake, Colonel, if you insist on remaining my friend.”

  “Step out of the carriage, Mrs. Howard, or I’ll drag you by your arm. You saved my life once, and I must return the gesture. At least I’ll save your social life during this dreary season.”

  She scowled but climbed down to the sidewalk. When he offered an elbow, she locked her fingers around his arm as though she were in danger of drowning in a swift river. He heard a deep intake of breath, which she appeared to hold all the way to the front of the church. As she expected, quite a few fans opened to hide a lady’s snide remarks, while more than one elderly gentleman frowned. The younger men smiled with interest, as well as the unmarried girls. When they were seated, a widower in the adjacent pew turned to speak.

  “See here, sir. What is the meaning of you bringing this Yankee-lover to the service? Don’t you have a scrap of common sense?” His question could be heard by several others in the vicinity.

  Elliott bent toward the man with a warm smile. “Worry not, Mr. Chester. It’s all been sorted out with Mrs. Howard. She had the courage to confront her former beau and tell him in person they had no future together. Clearing the way, I might add, for worthier candidates to vie for her attention.”

  Mr. Chester’s face flushed hotly. “Just that simple, eh? You think she’s suddenly changed sides in this conflict as well?”

  “Goodness, no. She’s still a Yankee. But like proper ladies everywhere, she doesn’t hold political affiliation over a divine authority.” With the preacher staring at him, Elliott cast a meaningful gaze toward the pulpit and altar.

  Mr. Chester considered and nodded, mollified for the moment.

  Elliott faced front and pulled the hymnal from the bracket. Flipping to the indicated page, he held the book where Mrs. Howard could also view it. “I hope you brought your vocal cords,” he whispered. “This is one of my favorites. I expect you to sing.”

  She joined in meekly, but by the third stanza her volume had increased substantially. After the two-hour service, they walked out side by side, making eye contact with no one other than the priest on the front steps.

  “Blessings on you, Mrs. Howard,” greeted Father Daniel.

  “And you also,” she said.

  Elliott champed her hand onto his arm for the stroll to the street. Other parishioners continued to stare, but the first step had been taken. “Well done. You survived the initial skirmish with barely a scratch from that dodgy Mr. Chester.”

  “Not all wounds are visible, sir,” she said with a sigh as she climbed into the carriage.

  “True enough.” Elliott shook the reins over the horse’s back. “Where to? Shall we take a ride out to Hollywood Cemetery?”

  “Have you lost your mind? It’s too cold for an open buggy in the first place, let alone for a leisurely Sunday excursion.” Her wry grin contained a bit of the old spark.

  “That’s the friend I remember. Unafraid to accuse me of lunacy. Care to share your travel saga on the way home? I refuse to listen to gossip.”

  “It’s hard to believe news on my fall from grace even reached you. You live blocks from the Duncans.”

  “I heard about it only because I share an office with other members of the home guard. They are aware of my high regard for John Duncan’s niece.”

  She turned to face the passing houses. “There isn’t much to tell. I took the train to see an old beau in hopes of reconciliation. It was a foolish mistake. Soon after my arrival, we discovered we had little in common and no passion for each other. I’m not sure what I had hoped for. I had become tired of months of ignorance and needed to see him face-to-face.”

  Elliott said nothing for several moments. Then he said, “A clean slate?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you have wiped your romantic slate clean?”

  “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

  “Very well. Because you intend to remain in Richmond, I suggest you appear often in my company, even if you barely tolerate my bad humor and foul breath. Only a Southern gentleman of my standing will keep the angry mob from roasting you like a Salem witch.”

  Mrs. Howard hesitated before replying. “Your sense of humor is your best attribute, Colonel. And your breath—foul or sweet as honey—won’t be an issue as long as we remain at a respectable distance.”

  “A bargain has been struck. Splendid!” He pulled the horse to a stop at the carriage block in front of the Duncans’ home. “Here you are, safe and sound.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. I’m grateful for your thoughtful gesture today. You are a rare man of courage and integrity. A kind man.” She stepped out and started up the walkway. “Please call for me next Sunday,” she said over her shoulder.

  Elliott watched until she disappeared inside the house. “If you would allow me, Madeline, I yearn to be much more than a kind man.” He’d spoken the words aloud with only the sharp February wind for an audience.

  MARCH 1864

  “My dear, may I speak with you?”

  Madeline, startled from her woolgathering, poked her finger with her needle. “Yes, please come in, Aunt.” She rose stiffly to her feet.

  Aunt Clarisa bustled into the her niece’s room and threw back every curtain and drapery. “I don’t know why you insist on sewing and reading up here alone. The light and heat are so much better in the parlor.” She poked ineffectively at the charred coals in the fireplace grate.

  “Eugenia needs time to discuss things with her mother without outsiders constantly interfering.”

  Aunt Clarisa dropped the poker into the bucket. “You’re not an outsider, my dear. Genie loves you and misses your company. At meals you barely utter a word.”

  “I love her too, which is why I don’t want to impede her social season.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Justine Emerson was horrified to see you leaving that day. She insists it was a horrible misunderstanding by their butler.”

  “We both know that’s not the case.”

  “That may be true, but most of the horrible gossip has died down, partly due to Colonel Haywood’s threat to cut out the tongue of any man who repeats slander against you.”

  “He has become my protector and avenger, yet I have no need of such services. I’m quite content to remain here on my window seat, sewing for soldiers and reading from Uncle John’s library of books.”

  “Cloistered like a nun? You’re not Roman Catholic, dear niece. This is totally inappropriate for an Episcopalian.” Aunt Clarisa winked over her shoulder as she opened the doors to the armoire.

  “Solitude provides opportunity for contemplation of one’s errors.”

  “My, you have been reading your uncle’s tomes instead of your cousin’s yellow-back novels. But I would say your self-flagellation has been sufficient. John received an invitation to a dance that General and Mrs. Rhodes are throwing, and you are included. So it’s time to venture out beyond church on Sundays.”

  “He didn’t,” said Madeline in disbelief.

  “He did. Your name—Mrs. M. Howard—is printed on the outer envelope beneath ours.” Clarisa pulled out a dark green gown from the wardrobe, along with matching dancing slippers.

  “Did Uncle John approach General Rhodes about my inclusion
? He has barely spoken a dozen sentences to me since my disastrous trip. Why would he do this?”

  Clarisa laid the garments across the bed. “He was rather piqued with you—I won’t lie. Running to the arms of some Yankee when the utterly perfect Colonel Haywood would camp in our back garden if we allowed it? But your uncle decided your penance has been sufficient. Coercing an invite was his idea.”

  “Poor Mrs. Rhodes, betwixt and between two mighty forces—the ladies of society and her husband.” Madeline laughed despite herself.

  “I was told to not take no for an answer. You’ve been holed up more than a month. You must be ready to talk to people other than your family.” She pointed at the silk gown on the bed. “Wear the green so you won’t look so pale. You’ve never worn it once.”

  Madeline forced a smile for her aunt. “I am facing a worthier opponent than Mrs. Rhodes.”

  “Yes, you are. Don’t tarry in your bath because I don’t wish to be late to the final ball of the season.” Her aunt waltzed from the room as though the dancing had already begun.

  The palatial home of General and Mrs. Rhodes stood at the edge of town. Surrounded by tall boxwood hedges and manicured gardens, the residence commanded an impressive view of the James River. Despite her beautiful gown and cascade of golden curls fixed by Eugenia, Madeline moved through the convivial guests like a specter on All Hallows Eve. Heads turned, but not in her direction. Madeline refused to cling to her aunt or cousin because both women had spent as monastic a winter as she. At least Eugenia had the devoted Major Penrod. The two of them were determined to dance every number together.

  Madeline stood at the windows overlooking steep cliffs and a rocky riverbed. Lush green pastures in the distance promised an early spring. As she passed each small cluster of guests, conversation intensified. Female listeners became fascinated with their partner to avoid eye contact with the local pariah. Madeline was ignored more effectively than the liveried servants collecting discarded punch cups.