The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels

by Stephenia H. McGee

  When she finished, Lilly turned back to the doorway. “Someone will be in to build the hearth, and your coffee will be ready soon.”

  “Thank you.”

  She inclined her head and hurried from the room, leaving him alone. He stepped over to the fireplace on the other wall, so large that Matthew would have to spread his arms like wings to touch both sides. The carved marble surround was intricately done, and Matthew wondered what family business had afforded such luxury.

  There was a noise behind him and he turned to see a boy of about fourteen years entering the study with an armload of wood. He gave Matthew a grin. “Morning, mister.”

  “Good morning,” Matthew replied as the boy scurried to the hearth and began to build the fire. Matthew watched him a moment.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  The youth didn’t look up from his work. “Pete.”

  “Are you a member of the Smith family?”

  “What? Me?” He looked up at Matthew, grinning. “No, sir. My family’s been working here since before I was born, though.”

  He had a slight accent to his words that Matthew couldn’t place, though he wasn’t overly familiar with the way Yanks talked. He’d usually been left out of most of his father’s business in the North. He knew enough, though, to guess that this boy’s family had likely come through the seaport in New York City instead of being native to these lands.

  “So you live nearby?” Matthew asked.

  “Yes, sir. So does most of the folks that works for the fine families.”

  Matthew thought on that. “How many work here?”

  Pete shrugged slim shoulders. “Used to be more of us before the Mister died,” he said, his fingers making quick work of the wood pile and coaxing a flame to life. Soon he had it finished and rubbed his hands across the sturdy material of his pants. “Those your horses in the barn?”

  Drat! He’d been too preoccupied with the situation with George and Annabelle and had forgotten all about his plans to tend the horses upon rising. He should have already been out to the stable. He’d done nothing other than place them in stalls last evening, and they needed to be brushed down and checked for lameness. “Yes, I should get to them,” Matthew answered, beginning to step away.

  “Thought so,” Pete said. “My Papa’s done got them fed. I’ll get them brushed down for you real nice.”

  Matthew paused and looked back to the boy. “Thank you, Pete.”

  “No thanks needed, mister. If the Misses knew I didn’t take good care of any horse in her stable, she’d make me work extra to get my dime.”

  “Best be off to it then,” Matthew said, grinning. “I don’t want to cost a man his pay.”

  The boy nodded, puffing out his chest at the remark before he hurried to the door. “Nice day to you, mister,” he said before ducking out.

  “To you as well,” Matthew replied, but the boy was already gone. Matthew turned to the bookshelf and scanned the leather-bound spines. Before he could select one, the slight tinkling of china indicated that his coffee had arrived. Another woman he had not seen before bustled in and sat the tray down on a low table near a leather chair by the far window. When she finished, she turned and offered Matthew a warm smile.

  “Here we are, sir. Brought the cream and sugar, too, since we didn’t know how you take it.” She spoke with the same accent as the boy, only hers was much stronger.

  “Just sugar, please.” He crossed over to the young woman and took a seat in the leather arm chair.

  “Nice to see a man sit here,” the young woman said as she poured his coffee. “We haven’t had no man here since we lost Herr Smith.” She flashed green eyes at him. “You being the first guests Frau Smith’s let in the house and all.”

  Matthew shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “Herr? Frau?”

  She giggled. “Apologies, sir. Sometimes I still use the German terms. Means mister and missus, as you would say.”

  “Oh. I see.” Matthew said, smiling.

  “My name’s Anka,” she said, showing a line of perfectly straight teeth from under rose colored lips as she smiled.

  “Matthew Daniels.”

  She leaned over the table as she took her time stirring his sugar, the silver spoon clinking against the side of the cup. “Here we go,” she finally said, holding the cup out to him. He took it with a nod as she straightened. “I’ll just leave the tray, in case your other companions come down before the breakfast is done.”

  “Thank you, Anka.”

  She gave a curtsey and turned to go, flashing him another smile over her shoulder as she did. Before she made it out, Annabelle appeared in the door way. She glanced between Matthew and the other woman, who was taller than Annabelle by a couple of inches, seeming unsure. Matthew rose and went to greet her.

  “Miss Ross, Anka has brought coffee. Would you care to have some?”

  Annabelle looked back at the woman and offered a polite smile. “Yes, thank you.”

  Anka dipped her chin to Annabelle before stepping around her. “If you need anything, Fraulein, just send for me.”

  “Thank you,” Annabelle said, though her cool blue eyes were on Matthew.

  Anka slipped from the room and the tightness in his gut he’d tried to ignore all morning clenched all the harder. He tried to coax out a friendly smile, but it felt tight. “She’s German,” he blurted. “That name she called you wasn’t anything disrespectful.” He scratched his head. “I don’t think.”

  Annabelle only gave a curt nod, her tension remaining intact. Apparently, the servant woman’s foreign words were not what caused her to regard him coolly. He tried again as he motioned her toward the coffee. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, picking up the tray and moving it over to a table by a couch so they could sit together.

  Annabelle took a seat at one end of the upholstered couch and arranged her skirts before answering. “Well enough, I suppose. I haven’t slept in a bed that soft in some time.”

  Matthew suddenly felt guilty. “I’m sorry for what I have put you through, Annabelle, I truly am.”

  She looked up at him sharply, opening her mouth to reply, but Matthew held up a staying hand. “I have dragged you through battle-torn lands, made you sleep out of doors—and in the winter, no less—and have countless times put you in danger. Now that George is found, it is time I hold to my end of our arrangement and see to it that you are properly cared for.”

  “I am fine, Matthew,” she said softly.

  “No thanks to me. I let my blind determination and my pride put you at risk, jeopardizing everything from your reputation to your life. I only hope one day, when you are living well in a safe home with children about your skirts, that you’ll be able to forgive me.”

  Annabelle sucked in a sharp breath. “Matthew! It was I who went to your unit and found trouble, and I who chose to continue to tangle myself into a mess. If it were not for you, I would have no hope of saving Rosswood, and, besides that, would have been tried by the Confederate Army as a spy!”

  He looked at her, admiring the color rising in her face and giving her cheeks a pleasing glow. His chest tightened. She deserved the life she should have had, before war had stolen everything from her. He would not let his own passions steal that from her now. He tamped down his feelings and plastered on a wide smile. “Regardless of what has befallen us up to this point, I have good news for the future.”

  She cocked her head.

  “I’ve spoken to my brother, and George is pleased with the arrangement. We will leave as soon as he has regained some of his health, and I will see the two of you safely to Westerly.”

  Annabelle paled slightly, and Matthew dared not hope it was because she no longer wished to keep the arrangement. He had determined to let her make her own choices, and he would not let any of his feelings muddy that choice for her. But as he watched her closely, he couldn’t help hoping that she would say she did not want the arrangement with George. Perhaps, somehow, she would forgive him for not imm
ediately declaring he wanted the arrangement for himself, and she would see through his guise. She would see that he had only offered George because he thought his brother would be able to give her the home she deserved, even if she lost Rosswood. But, perhaps even more than that, Matthew hoped she would somehow want to choose him instead, not for what he could offer, but simply for who he was.

  He waited, his heart pounding rapidly, but when her pink lips finally parted, they did not speak the words he longed for. “We agreed that I would consider courtship, not me moving to Westerly.”

  Matthew frowned. “Westerly is safest.”

  “And who will save Rosswood? Andrew has probably already claimed it by now!”

  Matthew’s shoulders tensed. Another of his failures. If he had not spent weeks hauling her across the states, then she might not have lost control of her family lands to begin with. But how would he have saved George if he’d stayed at Rosswood to defeat the other man? Frustration with the mess he’d woven boiled within him, and his words came out clipped. “He has no claim to it. George will see that it is regained once you are married.”

  Annabelle paled further, her beautiful blue eyes wide and marred with hurt. “That’s it, then?”

  Matthew watched her closely. “Is what it?”

  The color returned to her face, and the pain in her eyes was replaced by flashing anger. “You’ve found your brother and successfully handed me off, so you are free to go.”

  “Annabelle,” he groaned, but she was already on her feet.

  “Spare me your apologies, Captain Daniels. I was never more than a responsibility you were eager to shed.”

  She turned her face from him, but not before he caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He rose and tried to grasp her arm, but she had already stepped out of his reach and was heading for the door. It swung open before she could leave, and there stood George in an ill-fitting black suit with a look of frustration on his face.

  His brother looked at Annabelle and gave a tight smile, but Matthew could not tell if he noticed the glimmer of tears Matthew had caused. “Ah. Here you are, Miss Ross. I wanted to ask if you would join me after breakfast. It seems there are things we need to discuss.”

  Annabelle cast a cold glance over her shoulder at Matthew, not knowing that she cut deeply at his resolve not to cross the room, haul her into his arms, and kiss her until she knew that she would always be the one who held his heart.

  But, instead, his feet remained rooted to the floor and the moment was lost. She straightened herself, turning away and addressing his brother. “Yes, of course, Mr. Daniels.”

  Matthew swallowed the words that longed to escape his lips and pressed them into a hard line. Annabelle cast him one final glance before she ducked out of the room and left George staring after her, confused. He shrugged and crossed the room to where Matthew stood, polished shoes clicking on the floor.

  “I am most grateful for something decent to wear, mind you, but I had to use a strip of leather to tie these trousers about my waist, because not even one of Mr. Smith’s belts would do. Even then, without these braces,” he said, reaching up to give the suspenders a pop, “I bet they would still end up around my ankles.”

  Matthew just stared at him.

  “Not even a chuckle, huh?” George asked. “Is everything all right?”

  Matthew simply nodded, not trusting his feelings not to escape his mouth. George looked at him doubtfully, but kept his peace. He looked past Matthew to the coffee. “Uh-huh. Well, mind if I get some of that coffee?”

  Matthew shrugged and cast another look at the door before sitting down on the couch once more. George filled a floral-print cup with steaming coffee, cream, and a heaping spoon of sugar, then sat back to stir it. Leaving the spoon still in the cup, he tasted a sip and closed his eyes, smiling. “Oh, how I have missed good coffee.”

  Despite his mood, Matthew let a small smile turn up one corner of his mouth.

  “Thank you, brother,” George said, taking another sip.

  “I didn’t make the coffee, George,” Matthew chuckled.

  “No. Thank you for coming for me.”

  Matthew nodded, the emotion in George’s tone saying even more than his words. “Always,” he replied.

  They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Lilly appeared at the door. “Breakfast is ready, gentlemen.” Without waiting for their response, she was gone from sight again.

  “Interesting one, that lady,” George said thoughtfully, still looking at the place where Lilly had briefly stood.

  “How’s that?”

  “Not entirely sure…yet,” George said cryptically. “And a beauty like none I’ve ever seen,” he added under his breath, but Matthew still heard him.

  Matthew grunted. “And what are your thoughts on Miss Ross?”

  George looked back at his brother. “Yes. About that. Are you sure this is the best course of action?”

  “Are you changing your mind?” Matthew asked, his feelings an infuriating mix of hope and worry.

  “When did I say I agreed?”

  Matthew balked. “Just last night, when we first discussed it.”

  George appeared genuinely thoughtful. “Did I? Forgive me, but I was so tired and hungry, I don’t remember all the details of your wild tale.”

  “This is no tale, brother. Miss Ross has gone to great lengths to meet you. Her family’s lands depend on her finding a husband to help her retrieve her home.”

  “And why should I be the one? You are the one who had the arrangement, not me,” George said, as if Matthew needed reminding.

  “That is only because you were already planning a wedding of your own. Besides, you are Master of Westerly now, and you will need someone to help you run it. You will find no woman finer than Annabelle.”

  George looked at him, so intensely that Matthew had to resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. “We best be getting on to breakfast. The others are likely waiting on us,” George said at last.

  Relieved, Matthew rose and started toward a meal he knew his stomach was in too many knots to receive.

  George’s stomach growled loudly, and he chuckled. “And it appears I am rather hungry, as well.” Matthew stepped toward the door, but George caught his arm. “This discussion is not finished, you know. I think there is much more here that needs to be said.”

  “Speak on it with Miss Ross first, and then you and I will talk,” Matthew consented.

  Seeming satisfied with this, George clapped him on the shoulder. “Then let’s go eat!”

  “They are all ready to cooperate at the proper moment, so that the plan cannot fail this time.”

  John Surratt

  After breakfast Annabelle found herself alone in the parlor with George Daniels. Her grandmother had simply waved off George’s request, saying that her granddaughter had no need of a chaperone. Annabelle had tried not to be bothered at the comment, and sincerely hoped that her grandmother didn’t think that she had let anyone take liberties with her while on the road.

  She arranged her skirts and watched George as he sat in a chair across from her. Courting couples usually shared a couch. She tried to dismiss the oddity, telling herself it didn’t mean anything. Besides, why should it bother her?

  He seemed as uncomfortable as she felt, and he tugged at the collar of his shirt. He had trimmed his beard short, so that it lay nicely along his chin instead of sticking out everywhere. He had smoothed his hair back away from his face, but a few strands were already beginning to fall across his forehead. Two meals removed from prison and already he looked improved. Still deathly gaunt, yes, but his eyes were bright and alert. He cleared his throat, startling Annabelle out of her scrutiny. She dropped her gaze.

  “I would like to know more about you, Miss Ross, if you do not mind.”

  “There is little to tell,” Annabelle said, fiddling with her skirt. “I grew up on my father’s plantation, in the same manner as any other young lady. When the war came, my father join
ed the cause, leaving me to the care of his second wife’s father. Our house served as a hospital for both North and South, and, thus, survived most of the destruction. When this war is finished, I hope to see it someday returned to what it once was.”

  George considered this and nodded. “If they are letting Southern men go on loyalty papers, then I would guess the end is quite near, indeed.”

  Annabelle sighed. “Forgive me for saying so, for I know war has cost you much, but I hope the South will surrender and let it be finished. I do not see how they still hope to win, when supplies are scarce and the armies are wearing thin. We have suffered enough for a cause that cannot be accomplished, and we should now turn our energies to rebuilding our lives.”

  George stroked the hair on his face. “Most women do not have opinions on such things.”

  Annabelle picked at a frayed place on her dress. “Perhaps they might not have, once. But, much has changed in these last years. There might be more women now with a mind for things outside of child-rearing than you might think.” Even as she said it, she knew the words nipped too hard. Her father would have been appalled, and her mother would have told her a lady shouldn’t flaunt her opinions until after she was wed.

  To her surprise, George chuckled. “Indeed. And, I must say I have to agree with you. The South cannot win. That is why I signed the papers. There is no hope for us now. The best we can do is try to pick up the pieces and begin anew.”

  Annabelle blew out a breath. “Yes.”

  “My brother tells me your lands are in jeopardy,” George said, turning the subject to the matter at hand.

  Annabelle sat back against the cushion behind her and leveled her gaze on the man that was intended to be her husband. Fear clawed at her, but what was she to do? If neither of the Daniels men wanted her, would she be able to keep Rosswood?

  “Yes,” she said at last. “My father had intended for Rosswood to go to me and my husband when I wed. He planned to take up residence in his Natchez town home and allow my chosen husband to take control of the lands. But, he died in the war, and my grandfather by marriage was determined to see me wed to his own son, so that they might control the plantation.”