His boots had no sooner landed in the dust than Grandmother appeared, lifting her hand for George to take. He did so obediently and helped her into the carriage. Then, to Annabelle’s surprise, Peggy lifted her own fingers and George assisted her as well.
Grandmother settled in her seat and began giving instructions before George could close the door. “Tell the driver to continue down this street,” she said. “And then take a left at the next intersection. Follow that road until it ends. My friend’s home will be the one to the right, set up on the hill.”
George nodded and closed the carriage door. A moment later the horses stepped into the road and the carriage began to sway once more. They rode in silence as the carriage made it through the town and then pulled down a winding drive, passing by large trees and bushes that were beginning to bud.
The carriage came to a stop, and after a moment Annabelle could hear men talking outside. Grandmother waited, so Annabelle and Peggy took the cue from her and remained seated. Presently, the voices outside quieted and the carriage door opened. However, instead of George, an older gentleman with dark skin, a gray beard, and twinkling eyes stood outside.
He looked at Grandmother and beamed. “Mrs. Smith! We is so glad to see you again!”
Grandmother smiled broadly and moved out of her seat, taking the man’s hand as she stepped down. “Oh, Sam! I am very glad to see you are doing well.”
“I is, ma’am. Been right good here, it has.”
Grandmother patted his arm. “I’m glad to hear it.” She turned and motioned toward the carriage. “I’ve brought my granddaughter, Annabelle, and her companion, Peggy.”
The two women moved to exit the carriage, taking the man’s assistance as they stepped out into the pleasantly warm day, bright with cheerful sunshine. Annabelle lifted her hand to shield her eyes, wishing she hadn’t left the bonnet in her trunk. She nodded to the man. “Hello.”
He bowed to Annabelle and then looked at Peggy, his eyes lighting. He held out a hand. “My, Mrs. Smith, you sure did bring a lovely lady on this here visit.”
Grandmother laughed, but Peggy’s eyes widened in horror. She put a hand to her throat, ignoring the hand Sam still had stuck out.
“Come on now, Sam, leave the poor woman be,” Grandmother said.
Sam’s eyes twinkled, but he finally turned away from Peggy. As soon as he did, she relaxed a bit, but still eyed the man warily. Annabelle giggled, and received the press of Peggy’s elbow in her ribs for it. She put her fingers over her mouth as Peggy glared at her.
Grandmother pretended not to notice the exchange, and as George finished talking to the driver and came around to stand with them, Peggy finally regained her composure. She stood stiffly at Annabelle’s side, discomfort radiating off her like heat from the flame.
“Let me take y’all on to the house,” Sam said as the carriage rumbled away, taking with it any hope of them leaving earlier than mid-morning, when Grandmother had instructed George to have the coachman return.
Sam gestured toward the house, pulling Annabelle’s attention away from the carriage. “She’s been expecting you,” he said, the tails of his fine jacket flapping behind him as he turned.
The four of them followed along behind him silently. Just off the carriage path, a set of stairs had been set into a steep hill, leading to the stately house perched on the top. Annabelle lifted her traveling skirts to climb the narrow incline, wondering how difficult such an entry would be to traverse in the rain. Already she feared slipping, and the weather had been calm for days.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Annabelle lifted her eyes from judging her every step to studying the house. Only a single story, the place was nonetheless impressive. Nothing compared to the grandeur of Grandmother’s home, but bright and inviting. Where Grandmother’s looked as though it were a stern sentry rigid in his duty, this home called to mind a squat lady, her arms brimming with flowers.
Annabelle smiled to herself as they stepped up onto a wide porch. In nearly every available space, pots sprouting with plants and lively blooms gave a warm invitation. Already they were beautiful, and Annabelle surmised that the entire front of the house would be bursting with color once spring came in force.
And, oh, how she welcomed it. She felt as though she had never endured a winter so long, with spring waiting all the way to nearly the end of March to break the chill hanging over the North. Even when the days had warmed, the nights seemed reluctant to let go of their hold on the winter months. How George had endured those nights spoke to a strength she would always admire.
Sam pulled open a wide front door, and called inside. “Miss Wesson! She’s here!”
Annabelle looked at Peggy and lifted her brows. Peggy gave a small shake of her head, also confused. They’d never seen a doorman shout for the lady before, but perhaps things were done differently in Maryland than they were in Mississippi.
Sam ushered the guests inside. “Come on in, come on in.”
Peggy kept her eyes on her wide skirts, pointedly ignoring the way Sam watched her as she passed. Annabelle suppressed a giggle at the way the older man tried to get Peggy’s attention like a smitten young boy.
“Oh! You made it!”
Annabelle turned to see a woman scurrying out of the room off to Annabelle’s left. She hurried to Grandmother and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Eudora Smith, it’s been too long!”
Grandmother patted her friend’s back and the joy on her face made Annabelle regret her previous frustration. A few hours for Grandmother to enjoy a visit wouldn’t make that much difference. At least, she hoped not.
The new woman gave Grandmother a final squeeze, and pulled away, turning honey-colored eyes on her guests. “And who all have you brought?”
Grandmother gestured to Annabelle. “This is my granddaughter.” The pride in Grandmother’s voice warmed a place in Annabelle’s heart she hadn’t realized had been cold.
She lifted the side of her dress and lowered into a small curtsey. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
The other woman put her fingers to her lips and looked back at Grandmother. “Annabelle, isn’t it?”
Grandmother nodded.
The woman tilted her head and regarded Annabelle with a warm smile. “Oh, but isn’t she the very image of Katherine?”
“Quite,” Grandmother agreed.
She stared at Annabelle a moment, then seemed to remember herself when Annabelle began to fidget. “Oh! Forgive me, dear. I am Bulla Wesson. Your grandparents and I have been friends for what?” She looked back at Grandmother. “Thirty years?”
Grandmother laughed. “Don’t you go showing our age!”
Miss Wesson smirked. “Nonsense. Age is naught but a prize for a life lived.”
Grandmother simply shook her head and gestured to the others, trying to keep the proper manners in place. “May I introduce Mr. George Daniels of Westerly, and Annabelle’s companion, Peggy of Rosswood.”
Peggy showed no surprise at the title bestowed upon her and lifted her heavy silk skirts, dipping into a perfected curtsey. “Ma’am.”
George bowed and extended his hand. When Miss Wesson placed her fingers in his, he leaned over and gave the slightest brush of his lips across the back of her hand before straightening. “A pleasure, ma’am. We are thankful for your hospitality.”
She giggled and then pulled her hand away, a blush coming to her cheeks. “Come, let’s go out to the garden, shall we?” Miss Wesson hurried away without waiting for their reply. Grandmother gestured for them to follow, and they trailed along behind Miss Wesson’s swaying pink silk.
Through a rear door they passed out into a lavish garden, meticulously tended and artfully arranged. Miss Wesson plopped down into a cushioned chair and waved her hand at the other chairs placed in a horseshoe shape. They took their seats, hedged in by a flowering bush Annabelle did not recognize. She admired the bright pink blossoms that dangled like bells.
Miss Wesson must have noticed.
“These are fetterbushes. Aren’t they lovely?” she twittered, looking much younger than the silver streaks in her hair indicated.
Grandmother laughed. “Oh, heavens, don’t get her started. Bulla loves those plants too much and will talk you to exhaustion about every bloom out here.” Her eyes twinkled as she said it, and her friend wrinkled her nose.
“Oh, I’m not that bad,” she said, reaching out to caress the soft petals of the nearest bloom.
Grandmother opened her mouth to retort, but Miss Wesson waved her away and caught the doorman’s attention. “Sam, would you ask Iris Primrose to make us some tea?”
“Yes, mistress,” Sam said, turning away.
She clapped her hands. “Oh, and some of those little cakes she makes, too, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“’Course it ain’t, Miss Wesson. I’ll be right back with them treats.” After a few steps, he disappeared from sight behind the towering plants around them.
“Iris Primrose?” George asked, stroking his beard. “Interesting name.”
“Sometimes the girls who come to me want new names,” Miss Wesson said with a shrug. “Something to mark their new life, I suppose. So, I give them the names of the most beautiful things I know.”
George’s brows gathered, and he looked thoughtful.
“Sam seems to be getting on very well,” Grandmother said to Miss Wesson, tugging her attention away from George.
Miss Wesson became more subdued. “Indeed. It took some time, but he has finally begun to bloom.”
Annabelle looked at Peggy, curious, but the other woman kept her eyes cast down. George, too, seemed lost in his own thoughts. Annabelle drew a deep breath of the sweet-scented air, and settled back in her chair as the two friends talked about people she didn’t know.
After a few moments, there was a slight lull in their words and George broke into the conversation. “Excuse me, Miss Wesson. I’m rather curious. Have you had your slaves a long time?”
Miss Wesson laughed. “Silly boy. You’ll find no slaves at my home.” She plucked a flower near her chair and ran it along her cheek. “Something so ugly doesn’t belong here.”
George tugged at his whiskers. “Forgive my assumption. I just thought that since Maryland is still a slave state….” He let his words trail off.
Annabelle watched Miss Wesson. She’d thought all the northern states were free states. George must be mistaken.
Miss Wesson sighed, tucking the little bloom in her hair. “Unfortunately, that is so. Didn’t keep us from being razed by Confederates last year, though.” She wrinkled her nose. “Had to replace nearly everything in the house. Not to mention what they did to my poor flowers.” She looked sadly over her gardens, though Annabelle could not fathom that anything here had ever seen the damages of war.
Miss Wesson brightened again. “But I have it looking almost right again, don’t I, Eudora?”
Grandmother patted her friend’s hand and laughed. “You tend flowers like they were children. It’s no wonder you never wed. Poor man would never have had any of your attentions.”
Miss Wesson laughed, a sound not unlike the twittering birds overhead. “No man was ever able to capture my heart the way my flowers did.”
Grandmother chuckled. “Indeed.”
Miss Wesson’s brows pulled together. “Or, was it that no man could accept me for the way I am?” Uncomfortable silence settled on them for a moment, but then Miss Wesson plucked herself from the contemplation and waved her hand. “No matter. Thanks to my father’s mill work, I never needed a man anyway.” She giggled like a girl, and Annabelle felt an unexpected pang of jealousy.
Her own father’s wealth should have rendered her the same freedom. Instead, it had all vanished like a puff of smoke, leaving her with little more than a pile of charred embers to remind her of what should have been. Annabelle picked at her fingernails as the elder women twittered on, the rest of the forgotten guests left to their private contemplations.
“News has reached here that Richmond has fallen. That must be one of Lincoln’s lying dispatches! The confederate Capitol will not be surrendered.”
John Surratt
Washington
April 4, 1865
The carriage came to a stop and George helped Grandmother, Annabelle, and Peggy down. Annabelle looked up at the large building as men moved to begin unloading the trunks.
“Ah, it has been many years since I’ve stayed at the National Hotel,” Grandmother mused, looking at the building as well.
Annabelle smoothed the front of her dress, relieved they had finally made it to Washington. Grandmother had mentioned staying outside of the city with friends, but Annabelle had nearly lost her composure over the suggestion. Reluctantly, Grandmother relented, and had sent word to have rooms prepared for them at the hotel instead.
George offered his arms, and she and Grandmother accepted his assistance. Peggy took her usual place behind Annabelle, following silently as an elderly gentleman held open the hotel doors for them.
Grandmother gave her name to a man in a sharp suit at the main receiving desk, and soon young men came in bearing their trunks. Not for the first time, Annabelle felt as though they had brought an entire household with them. After Grandmother passed some money across the desk, she was given three keys and instructions she waved off.
Grandmother seemed to know exactly where she was going, and the others followed her away from the man at the desk. Annabelle shot him an apologetic glance, but Grandmother’s briskness did not seem to bother him in the least. They crossed the marble floors and climbed a massive staircase, the likes of which made even the one at the Smith house seem diminutive.
When they reached the correctly marked rooms, George paused as Grandmother turned the key to her door, rubbing his own key between his fingers. “When shall we meet to discuss our plans?” he asked.
Grandmother pushed open the door to her room, casting him an annoyed glance. The men carrying her trunks arrived a second later, and she ushered them through the door. “See to your room, Mr. Daniels.” He frowned at that, and she puckered her brow. “Once your things are delivered, you may return to my room in about an hour or two. I hardly think taking the time to get settled after our journey will change matters.”
George looked unhappy, but moved to do as he was told. Grandmother pressed a key into Annabelle’s fingers, then closed her door behind her. Perplexed, Annabelle stood there a moment staring at the door.
“Miss?”
Annabelle turned to see two young men holding each side of her trunk. “Your room is just next door,” one of them said, gesturing just a few steps down the carpeted hall.
“Oh,” Annabelle shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Of course.” She moved to the door next to Grandmother’s, unlocking it so that the young men could deposit the trunk. They had no sooner placed hers at the foot of the bed than two more entered, carrying another filled with the dresses Grandmother had given Peggy.
“Right good news, isn’t it now?” one of the young men said as he placed Peggy’s trunk on the floor. He cast Peggy a curious look, but said nothing.
Peggy held his gaze, her hands clasped at her waist. She did look the contradiction, what with her lady’s silk dress and her maid’s headscarf. She’d fished it out of her things this morning, ignoring Grandmother’s protests.
“What news?” Annabelle asked, pulling the man’s attention back to herself.
He chuckled. “I suppose you haven’t yet heard, since you just pulled in, but news is flooding in that Richmond has fallen!”
Annabelle clutched her traveling skirt. “When?”
“Seems it happened yesterday. Rumors were about last night, but we didn’t start getting conformation until today. Sure enough, the South’s capitol is under the shadow of Union forces now.”
Annabelle swallowed hard. “Thank you, sir.”
He smiled. “Certainly, miss. Have a pleasant afternoon.” He left the room, pulling the door closed behind h
im.
Annabelle turned her focus onto Peggy, who seemed more interested in studying the room than on the news the young man had delivered. Annabelle cast a glance over the carved furniture and costly rugs, but found she had very little interest in the finery. “Did you hear what he said?”
Peggy looked at her. “’Course I did. These ears ain’t that old…not yet, anyways.”
Annabelle’s eyes rounded. “Richmond has fallen!”
Peggy nodded, coming over to pat Annabelle’s arm. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what the fellow done said.” Annabelle blinked at her and Peggy laughed. “What you want me to say, child? I don’t know what to do with that news no more than you do.” She shrugged. “But best I can tell, it sounds like a good thing. Mean’s war’s finally ’bout over.”
Annabelle considered the claim. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Well, let’s go over to Grandmother and see what we need to do to start trying to locate Matthew.”
Peggy caught her arm. “You goin’ to tell him?”
She drew her lip through her teeth, knowing exactly what Peggy meant. “Yes.”
Peggy’s eyes lit up, and Annabelle had to raise her hand to stay Peggy’s coming response. “But not until we see this thing finished,” Annabelle clarified. “Once we know the president is safe, and the end of the war is final, then I will tell him before we leave for home.”
Peggy pursed her lips, but Annabelle gave her a look that said there was no point in arguing.
Finally, Peggy conceded. “All right.”
David O’Malley threw his cravat across the room, wishing the flimsy thing were something that would crash through the walls and give sound to his rage. Richmond fallen!
Lies. They must be lies!
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 50