by Linda Swift
"Maybe we can manage until we go to Rossville for the wedding," Clarissa said.
Mary Jane brightened. "I can't believe it's just three days from now."
"Would you like to go down early? I should think there might be last minute things you need to see to."
"Oh, no. Lydia's wedding gown will fit me perfectly and I'm sure she is taking care of every last detail of the ceremony and reception. I'd rather stay here with Nathan—and you—until then."
Clarissa smiled. "Fine, it's settled."
"Isn't it strange how it has all worked out, Clarissa? Talmage dying, and Angeline falling in love with Devon, and then Nathan asking me to marry him?"
And Malcolm dying and Philip marrying me, Clarissa added silently. "War changes things. We'll trust it is all for the best."
"My only regret is that we'll be leaving Whitehaven. Are you sure that we won't be needed here?"
"We'll manage fine. Harriet and Polly can take care of the household chores, and Luke will help me with Father Wakefield. And anyway, he's so much better now, except for his lack of understanding. But he does enjoy playing with Robert and Elliot."
"Just the same, I'd feel much better if you had a man here besides poor old Luke. With both sides skirmishing all around us again, there is no telling when Whitehaven might be invaded by Yankee raiders."
Clarissa laughed. "You're beginning to sound like Father Wakefield. Let me remind you that I keep a loaded rifle in my bedroom, and it will take more than a few renegade Bluecoats to ransack this place. Besides, if Sherman takes Savannah, he may just march the whole Federal Army right on into the sea."
"I wish he would," Mary Jane said with vehemence as she knitted faster. "I'd like to see the lot of them at the bottom of it!" She suddenly looked regretful. "But not Major Burke, of course. There is no finer man than he, I think, in spite of his allegiance to the Union."
Clarissa nodded, not wanting to betray her own feelings for Philip Burke, and changed the subject. "I imagine Mother Wakefield will be coming home soon. And perhaps Lydia and Beau will come with her."
"Not as long as the war goes on," Mary Jane said. "Things are so much better at Fleur-de-Lis, even with a great many of the slaves gone, now. And I don't believe Mrs. Wakefield will be in any hurry to join her husband. She just doesn't seem to be able to accept his—affliction."
"Perhaps you are judging her too—"
"Missa?" Polly climbed the stairs with a tea tray and set it on a table in front of Clarissa. "You done got a lettah from Miss Angeline." She motioned toward the envelope resting on the tray. "I pour the tea now while you read it."
Mary Jane returned her knitting to her bag and stood. "I think I'll take my tea in Mister Wakefield's room with Nathan, Polly."
"Yes'um." Polly left a cup of the bark-stained hot water they called tea and lifted the tray and followed Mary Jane into the bedroom.
Clarissa put her knitting aside and examined the envelope and saw that it was franked in Kentucky. With eager haste, she tore open the letter and began to read.
Clarksville, Kentucky
December 15, 1864
My dearest sister,
I have some wonderful news to tell you. I became the wife of Captain Devon O'Conner on Thanksgiving Day. The ceremony took place at the field hospital at Marietta, and Major Burke stood with us, but I had sworn him to secrecy until I could write this letter. Devon is fully recovered from his illness and credits me with saving his life a second time, but it is really Major Burke who deserves the praise.
I am sure you will be surprised to learn that Devon and I are now at Mimosa Manor. When he was able to travel, Major Burke arranged to get a mule and wagon, and we started our journey home. As you surely know, the railroads have been destroyed by both sides to prevent men and goods from being transported North or South. Oh, this horrible war.
We went by way of Alabama and West Tennessee in order to miss the fighting around Murfreesboro and Franklin and Nashville. By taking that route, we did not come through Chattanooga which seemed best under the circumstances. I long to see you and the children and Polly, but felt it better not to bring Devon to Whitehaven while Nathan is still there.
I was so pleased to hear that Major Burke was able to improve Nathan's disfigurement with surgery. And I am also pleased that he and Mary Jane will be married. I must be honest and say that this relieves my guilty conscience a great deal. Please convey my wishes for their happiness.
Mimosa Manor is in terrible condition, as you might imagine. But with Devon's small pension from the army, we hope to survive. Devon has considerable knowledge about farming, and come spring, he plans to put in crops of cotton, tobacco, and corn, with help from the few slaves left.
Matilda and Devon send their love to you and the boys. We wish you a Merry Christmas, and we hope the time will soon come when the war will be over and you will be able to come for a long visit.
Your loving sister,
Angeline O'Conner
Clarissa folded the letter and blinked back the tears that pooled in her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks as a wave of homesickness washed over her. Angeline was back at Mimosa Manor, and she wished with all her heart that she and her boys were there, too.
And Angeline had taken her husband with her. She yearned to be with her own beloved husband, but as long as the war went on, there was no hope of it. She couldn't even tell anyone that she had a husband, at least not until her mourning period was over. She laid a hand softly on her abdomen and smiled to herself. And only she knew that a new life stirred beneath the symbol she wore for death.
If Philip did not return by the time her pregnancy was evident, she would take Polly and the children and go to Mimosa Manor. They would be safe there from the accusations which Malcolm's family were sure to make against her.
She picked up her cup of cold tea, grimaced when she tasted it, and set it down. She would find Polly and share the news of Angeline's marriage and her return to Kentucky. Just knowing that her sister was happy dispelled a little of the gloom of this dark winter day.
• ♥ •
"Mama, will there be candy and presents and a tree at Beau’s house?" Robert asked hopefully as he sat on the floor of Clarissa’s bedroom stacking wooden blocks for his younger brother.
"Yes, darling, I’m sure there will be." Clarissa smiled at her son, then turned her attention back to her task of packing.
"But will there be presents for me?" he persisted.
"I believe so. For you and Elliot, too," she reassured him.
"Then, when can we go?" Robert put another block on top of the stack he had assembled, and Elliot knocked it off again and chortled.
With a sigh, Robert began anew. "And will I get to ride horses with Beau, Mama?"
"I think not." Clarissa added another pair of pantalets to the undergarments lying on her bed. "It’s much too cold to be outdoors for long." She glanced at the bare window facing the street. "In fact, it is beginning to snow."
"Snow?" Robert asked happily. He stood and pulled his brother to his feet also. "Come on, Bubbie, let’s watch it snowing."
The baby gave his big brother a toothless grin and allowed himself to be pulled to the low window where he tentatively ran his chubby fingers over the frosty glass, then tasted the moisture and grunted.
With her sons occupied for the moment, Clarissa crossed to the armoire and pulled out two dresses. They would expect her to be in mourning, of course, so she would pack only a brown brocade day dress in addition to her black silk. As she folded the black, she smiled, remembering the last time she wore it. How long it seemed since that day when she and Philip had stood before the Union chaplain and said their vows. She reached farther into the recesses of the armoire and touched the faded blue coat which her husband had discarded when he left. He had meant it to be thrown away, but she had saved it, hidden away with her own things, as a tangible reminder of his presence here with her. Just touching it evoked vivid images of the handsome, dark-h
aired man with his suave mustache and deep blue eyes, splendid in his blue coat. And sometimes, during the long nights when she missed him too much to sleep, she wrapped the coat around her and imagined that his arms held her close. With a wistful sigh, she turned and gave her attention to her task.
"Missa?" Polly stuck her head inside the door. "I done got Masta Robert and Masta Elliot things packed. Can I hep you now?"
"No, thank you, Polly. I’m finished here. See to your own packing. We should be leaving soon before the weather worsens."
Mary Jane and Nathan had gone on ahead in the landau, and Luke would drive Polly, the children, and her in the carriage. She had been a bit apprehensive about leaving Josiah Wakefield with only the two servants to watch over him, but it was just for one night. And although he was improving every day, the poor man was obviously not up to a bumpy carriage ride and the excitement of a wedding and a holiday celebration.
"Mama, look," Robert interrupted her thoughts. "Come see the snow. It’s making the ground all white."
Clarissa cast a worried glance out the window. The snow had covered the ground and the carriage was waiting by the portico. They must get their wraps and go downstairs at once. There was no time to waste. Snow was unusual this time of year, and she thought of the troops camped in snow-covered tents in freezing weather and whispered a prayer of thanks that Philip was warm and well.
• ♥ •
Rossville, December 1864
The contrast between Fleur-de-Lis and Whitehaven was obvious even before Clarissa and her small entourage went inside. A huge garland of pine boughs, festooned with red velvet ribbon, adorned the massive front door, and a uniformed servant came out to assist them with their portmanteaus.
Mary Jane greeted them inside the hallway which was redolent with the scent of pine and cinnamon and ginger.
"Thank goodness you all are here." She hugged Clarissa and each child in turn. "When the snow started falling, we began to worry."
"We made it fine," Clarissa assured her. "The ruts are frozen solid so there was no chance of getting mired down in mud."
"Well, just the same, it is slippery. And there is little level ground from the city to Rossville."
The butler took their coats and Mary Jane led them toward the stairs. "Let’s get you settled into the front guest room. I thought Polly and the boys could sleep in my room next door tonight," she blushed and added in a low voice, "since I won’t be needing it. Lydia has given Nathan and me the master suite."
"Will that leave room for all of the others? Nathan’s parents will be here, won’t they?"
"Oh, yes, but the Forsythes will have the other guest room, and Lydia is sharing her mother’s room."
"But that isn’t necessary." Clarissa protested. "Polly and the children can share mine."
"Lydia insisted," Mary Jane said. "And she would have been here to greet you except she is in the kitchen overseeing the final touches on the wedding cake. And Mrs. Wakefield and my mother are resting in their rooms." As she talked, they had reached the top of the stairs and Mary Jane led the way down the long hall.
"Where is Beau?" Robert asked Mary Jane as they reached the bedroom he and his brother had been assigned.
"He has gone with your Cousin Nathan to feed the horses."
"Oh, Mama, can I go, too?" Robert asked excitedly.
"May I, Robert," Clarissa gently reminded him.
"Sure, Mama. Cousin Nathan and Beau won’t mind."
Mary Jane met Clarissa’s eyes and they both smiled. "Why don’t I ask Canaan to take Robert out to the stables while you get unpacked?"
"Fine," Clarissa answered, and continued on to the next room. Inside, she looked around her in amazement. It was hard to believe the country was at war when she stood here surrounded by the elegant furnishings and well-kept rooms at Fleur-de-Lis. It was no wonder Florence Wakefield wasn’t anxious to come back to her own home and husband.
Removing her bonnet and smoothing her hair, Clarissa looked at herself in the gold-leaf pier glass that reflected her image. She was gaunt and pale and the black she wore did nothing to enhance her appearance. Well, she would try and enjoy this brief respite to the fullest. Her children deserved a festive holiday, and so did she. There would be time to worry about the uncertain future tomorrow.
• ♥ •
The drawing room at Fleur-de-Lis, decorated with holly and pine and red velvet bows, was a perfect setting for a Christmas wedding. Red candles cast a warm glow on the pristine white gown of the radiant bride and her attentive groom who leaned heavily on his crutches, solemn and resplendent in his Confederate gray.
Basil Forsythe stood with his son, and Lydia was beside her sister-in-law. The gathering was small, noticeable for those absent as much as the ones present. The three matrons sat on chairs at the front of the long room: Jane Forsythe, mother of the soldier groom who had returned a cripple; Mary Townsend, mother of the bride and a son who would never return at all; and Florence Wakefield, who had suffered the most with the loss of two sons in battle and a husband indirectly wounded by the war.
Clarissa and the children sat with Polly on the second row. Robert and Beau, in new breeches for the formal occasion, sat on either side of Polly who held the sleeping Elliot in her arms.
A few close neighbors and kin filled the third row of chairs, and behind them, the other servants clustered with smiling faces; all except Ruane, the sulky-faced quadroon whom Clarissa could see from the corner of her eye.
"Mama, when can we open the presents?" Robert whispered with an anxious glance toward the Christmas tree beside the fireplace with gaily wrapped packages piled high beneath its tinsel-draped limbs.
"Shhh," Clarissa cautioned. "Later."
The minister, brought from nearby Rossville for the occasion, was a portly old gentleman whose nasal speech was punctuated by pauses when he stopped, produced a large white handkerchief, and blew his nose. But finally, the ceremony ended with his pontifical pronouncement that joined Nathan Forsythe and Mary Jane Townsend in holy matrimony. As they lovingly embraced, he gave them his smiling blessing and removed himself from the scene, presumably to return to his own holiday celebration.
The family clustered around the newlyweds, kissing the bride and shaking the groom's hand. Clarissa lingered as the other guests went en masse to the dining room.
"You are a beautiful bride," she said as she kissed Mary Jane, then turned to embrace Nathan. "I hope you'll both be very happy. You deserve it."
"I don't deserve anyone so fine as Mary Jane, but I'll cherish her all the more," Nathan answered with an adoring look at his new wife.
"No, it is I who am the fortunate one," Mary Jane contradicted sweetly.
"I didn't mean to cause your first domestic disagreement." Clarissa laughed ruefully. "So I'll just leave you to kiss and make up and join us for supper."
When she reached the dining room, Robert was already seated beside Beau, and Polly was tending Elliot in the kitchen, so she slipped into the nearest vacant chair. A scrumptious feast had been prepared, and Clarissa's mouth watered at the sight of such abundance in contrast to the plain fare Harriet served at Whitehaven. She wasn't sure how Lydia had managed to maintain her style of living here at Fleur-de-Lis, but supposed the plantation produced most of it and so far they had managed to avoid the Union foraging parties.
Seated between Basil Forsythe and Mary Townsend, she listened to the table conversation without comment as she savored every morsel of the delicious repast.
"I don't know how this war can go on and on," Mary said a low voice. "And it isn't just the Yankees we have to fear. Even the slaves are rising up against their owners until it isn't safe anywhere. Did you hear about that Witherspoon woman in South Carolina who was murdered in her bed by her own house servants?"
"One can't be too cautious," Basil agreed, then turned to Clarissa. "I would advise you to keep a close watch at Whitehaven with no men there now except poor Josiah. The Yankees are known for their cowardly atta
cks on innocent women and children."
Clarissa resisted the urge to protest that both sides had done their share of plundering the innocent and nodded instead.
"What do you hear from your sister?" Mary asked, fixing Clarissa with her bird-like gaze.
"Angeline is back in Kentucky, at our family plantation." There was no need to elaborate on that.
"Well, I'm glad she finally came to her senses," Mary added pointedly looking at Basil.
"All's well that ends well," he said, and Clarissa wasn't sure whether he referred to Angeline's situation or that of his newlywed son.
At that moment, there was a small commotion in the front hallway and then a soldier entered the dining room at the opposite end of the table from where Clarissa sat. For a moment, time stood still, then everyone at the table reacted to the shock in individual fashion.
Lydia screamed. Florence Wakefield fainted. Nathan arose so quickly his crutches fell to the floor and he was unable to take a step toward his cousin who stood beaming at the group before him. But it was Robert's shrill voice that put it all in perspective.
"Papa? Is it really you?"
The soldier laughed and opened his arms and the child leaped out of his chair and ran to him.
Clarissa sat stone still, eyes glued to the man who looked like Malcolm, laughed like Malcolm but could not be Malcolm because Malcolm was dead. He had to be dead. The telegram had said he was dead.
"What's the matter, my dear wife?"
He took a step toward her and she stood quickly, knocking over her chair which fell with a loud thud on the polished floor. His eyes raked her black mourning dress.
"Oh, I see. The grieving widow is shocked to learn her husband has come back from the dead."
He took another step toward her and pulled her to him for a perfunctory kiss as Lydia and Jane Forsythe worked to revive Florence. Recovering from their mute state at last, the group around the table all began to speak at once, asking the questions that were in their minds.
"All right. All right." Malcolm's voice rose above the clamor. "I'll answer all of your questions in due time. But first let me say it was all a ruse to fool the Federals."