High Hearts

by Rita Mae Brown

  “At least I’m not a faithless son of a bitch!”

  Stung, Mars pushed her to the ground.

  She jumped up, swinging wildly. Mars grunted and backed, away from her. He caught her under the elbow and spun her around. She slid onto the grass. He put his foot on her chest, pinning her down. She grabbed his leg but he had most of his weight on her chest.

  “You’re gonna wish you were somebody else,” he snarled.

  “At least I won’t be you.”

  “You make me so mad I can’t see straight.” He let her up. The fight was over. “You’re the only person on God’s green earth that gets me mad besides my wife.” Mars calmed down. He wished he hadn’t said that.

  “I hate you, Mars!” She rubbed her aching chest.

  “Colonel to you, shit ass.”

  “Colonel.” She folded her arms.

  “I’m lucky you didn’t bite me. Probably give me rabies.” He started to laugh. The tension evaporated.

  Geneva laughed, too. Finally he threw an arm around her. “I’m sorry. You get under my skin. You’re like a little chigger.”

  “I’m not saying what you’re like.!”

  Mars cleared his throat. “I would appreciate it if you did not discuss anything I may have said in anger about my wife.”

  “I won’t. Colonel,” she continued, “let me ask you something. You know Nash Hart was recently married. He says he loves her until death do him part.”

  “Everyone says that in the beginning.”

  “Do you think he would cheat on her?”

  “If the circumstances are right, any man will wander. Hell, Jimmy, what’s the big deal?”

  Geneva’s face drained. “I guess I want people to keep their promises.”

  Mars smiled ruefully. “It doesn’t seem to work out that way. Love is harder than war. You’ll find that out in your own good time.”

  “I hope not. I hope someone can love me for me.”

  “I hope so, too. It’s too late for me.”

  AUGUST 8, 1861

  Glittering in his finest dress uniform, Henley admired himself one more time in the full-length mirror. A knock on the door brought a quick reply. “Come in.”

  The door opened and there stood Sumner, equally resplendent in the dress uniform of a captain of artillery. His red collar and facings pulsated with gold trimmings. “Father.”

  Astonished, Henley hesitated a moment and then rushed to embrace his son. “Let me look at you.” He walked around Sumner. “Last time I saw you, you were wearing cavalry yellow and a private at that. What are you doing here? It’s good to see you!” Henley embraced him again.

  At his father’s beckoning, Sumner sat in the wooden library chair. “I came down with. Colonel Vickers.”

  “He’s here?”

  “Yes, he came to wrangle with the Commissary Department and to attend his wife’s social extravaganza. He preferred to stay in the camp, but Stuart insisted he attend.”

  Henley’s heart skipped a beat. “How did you come to know him?”

  “I met him at Stone Bridge on Warrenton Road.”

  Sumner answered his father’s questions and related events, the events he himself had seen at Manassas. Sumner requested an assignment with Vickers’s horse artillery. He’d relayed the news that Nash was bearing up although he didn’t like war. Henley showed Geneva’s letters to Sumner, who affected great interest. He would not break his word to his sister.

  They discussed Lutie, the murder of Alafin, and Lutie’s nursing work. The story of Jennifer Fitzgerald made them both queasy.

  Henley recognized that his son had endured a test and passed it, a test that he himself had not endured. He was proud of Sumner and envious. For the first time, Sumner spoke to him as a man, an equal. However gruesome the war might be, it gave Sumner the opportunity to carve out a place for himself, independent of Chatfield and his father.

  These new feelings prompted Henley to ask Sumner’s opinion about the corn crop and Reddy Neutral Taylor.

  “Pay him for the seed and the labor, then take the crop ourselves. I think we can only tarnish our name by a partnership with him, even such a tenuous one.”

  Henley observed his son as he spoke. The lesson for the day was Proverbs, chapter 4. Henley, like Lutie, knew his Bible. Chapter 4 exhorts the reader to get wisdom, to embrace understanding. “Hear, O my son, and receive my sayings; and the years of thy life shall be many. I have taught thee in the way of wisdom; I led thee in right paths. When thou goest, thy steps shall not be straitened; and when thou runnest, thou shalt not stumble.” Could it be that Sumner had absorbed Henley’s lessons over the years? For a fleeting moment, Henley thought he may have been too hard on the boy.

  He stared into Sumner’s eyes, clear, light eyes like Lutie’s. “That’s excellent advice, Sumner. I’m quite proud of you, son. Truly proud.”

  As they rode in an open coach to Kate Vickers’s party, Sumner confided that when the war was over, he wanted to build gardens and fountains for Lutie. Using the fountains in St. Petersburg, Russia, for inspiration. He made drawings appropriate to Chatfield’s topography and Virginian materials. Henley said he’d be happy to examine the plans, but Sumner had better keep cost uppermost in his mind.

  Every window and door of the Vickerses’ house was flung open to invite visitors. Expensive coaches and teams lined the broad boulevard. Music, conversation, and laughter floated out onto the street, beckoning people to enter.

  Henley passed through the huge front door and gave his hat to the butler, as did Sumner. Standing a few feet from the door, greeting her guests, was Kate Vickers. Mars, in dress uniform, stood beside her. Sumner sucked in his breath.

  “Colonel Chatfield, I am so glad you’re here. Whom have you brought to me?”

  Henley bowed and kissed her hand. “Mrs. Vickers, allow me to present to you Captain Sumner Chalfonte Chatfield, who fought of late at Manassas.”

  “Colonel, I can see the source of your son’s manner and manly bearing.” Her smile was blinding. “You have not met my husband. Colonel Chatfield, Colonel Mars Vickers.”

  “I’ve heard so much about you, Colonel Chatfield, and I’ve looked forward to meeting you at last. You are a great favorite of my wife.”

  “The honor is entirely mine, Colonel Vickers. Your exploits on the field of battle are known to the entire Confederacy.” Henley smiled, then moved into the crowd.

  “Father, why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful?” Sumner spoke rapidly.

  “Yes, she is, isn’t she?” Henley replied.

  “Mother!” Forgetting for a moment everyone, even Kate Vickers, Sumner spied Lutie.

  President Davis, hot in conversation with cabinet members also in attendance, also paused for a moment. A sad smile crossed his face as he thought perhaps of the mothers who would never see their sons again.

  Henley, surprised to see his wife, held out his hand to her. “Lutie, what are you doing here?”

  “Dr. Windsor told me Sumner was accompanying Colonel Vickers to Richmond to battle with your department, and I decided to surprise both of you.” To Sumner she said, “There’s someone else who wants to see you.”

  Kate took Sumner’s arm. “Come with me, Captain.” She led him to the kitchen. The door swung open, and Sumner beheld twenty servants in various states of preparation and panic. Coolly going about her business, a festive red turban for special occasions on her head, was Sin-Sin.

  “Auntie Sin-Sin!” Sumner ran over and hugged her.

  Sin-Sin held on to him, tears in her eyes. “My young mastah, my baby boy! God done answered my prayers. He brought you safe to Sin-Sin.”

  Kate rejoined her guests, and Sin-Sin introduced her hero to the other servants. She also complained bitterly that Lutie had entrusted the keys to Ernie June, but it was either that or Ernie June would accompany Lutie, and Sin-Sin wasn’t going to let that fat tick get her butt in Richmond. No, sir, no way, no how. Ernie June cooked up a mess of her specialties for this event
, and it took three men to load the hampers on the train. Sin-Sin said she thought they could feed the army.

  “Auntie, I’ve told the boys in my company about you. After the war is over, I’m going to bring them all home just to meet you and Momma. What a party we’ll have! And will you make a pot for each one?”

  “Course.” She put her smooth, warm palm to his cheek. “Now you go on out there and make those ladies fight over you. You gots more important things to do than chew the fat with an old slave woman.”

  Sumner hugged her again. “You’re worth the lot of them.” He kissed her on the cheek.

  Feigning embarrassment, she shooed him away. “Go on, now, you get out here, you tomcat.” Laughing, Sumner returned to the party.

  “I tell you, sir, we cannot rely on foreign purchase. We must produce ourselves. We can lean upon nobody.” General Josiah Gorgas and Judah P. Benjamin were arguing.

  “I am not opposed to your theory, General Gorgas, but I do think we need to employ every opportunity to further bind England and possibly even France to our cause. Trade is one of those methods.”

  “Then you’d better give me the money for a mess of fast ships, gentlemen.” Stephen Mallory, Secretary of the Navy, spoke. “Our Yankee brethren are going to set up a blockade.”

  “Since they can’t fight on the land, they’ll try the sea.” A menacing smile erupted from the lips of Cassius Rife. He insinuated himself into the conversation. Cassius, a munitions manufacturer from Runnymede, Maryland, Lutie’s childhood home, was courting these men. Cassius would have cut cards with the devil.

  A gasp went up from the crowd, as General P.G.T. Beauregard, the Napoleon of the Confederacy, strode into the receiving line. Kate curtseyed. “You honor my husband and myself by gracing us with your presence, General. The entire nation is grateful for your exploits.”

  “I did only what any soldier would do, madam. I went where the fire was the hottest. And with ladies such as yourself to protect, I would go to the very jaws of hell!”

  The crowd burst into spontaneous applause. The general accepted it and then walked over to Kate Vickers’s grandmother, the eldest lady in the room, to introduce himself as her dinner partner. Naturally, that was fitting since he would have to walk second into the dining room, the host, of course, preceding all with the most distinguished lady in the room and that happened to be Mrs. Jefferson Davis. The fact that Beauregard stopped first to speak to the old lady rather than the leaders of the Confederacy endeared him to every woman in the room.

  Sumner, at Lutie’s urging, was meeting people, including a somewhat ignored Robert E. Lee.

  Lutie, always popular in Richmond society, joined a group of ladies who were discussing Elizabeth Van Lew. “She belongs in Screamersville,” said one lady.

  Another matron, staggering under the weight of her green emeralds, warbled, “She expresses publicly her many opinions, whether people are willing to listen or not. I tell you, I half expected her to appear today. She may be crazy, but she’s well bred. We can’t keep her out.”

  Maud Windsor, Elizabeth Van Lew’s neighbor, said, “My husband feels that she is suffering from extreme overexhaustion or even a form of hysteria. He has discreetly recommended to her relatives that they might consider a rest home for her.”

  “I think she’s bats, plain and simple,” green emeralds bellowed.

  “She’s a spy.” This was said with some conviction by a thin, but pleasant looking lady of perhaps thirty.

  “Well, whatever she is, I take it she has the personality of a gargoyle,” Lutie tossed this off casually.

  The ladies laughed. A little bell tinkled, and the music stopped. Time for dinner.

  Mars, without a doubt the handsomest man in the room, bowed to Mrs. Davis and offered her his arm. The president jovially said, “She is the Confederacy’s most precious possession, sir. Handle with care.”

  Mars placed his hand over Mrs. Davis’s hand, which rested lightly on his forearm. “Mr. President, I shall cherish our national treasure.”

  The guests, encrusted with braid, rubies, pearls, stars, laurel clusters surrounding stars, gold bars, emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds, promenaded toward the long, heavy table, over which hung a chandelier of perfect proportions. As they stood behind their chairs, the last couple, Kate Vickers escorted by President Davis, entered the room. As each gentleman seated his dinner partner, the rustle of dresses sounded like a high wind in pines.

  President Davis could have insisted on political protocol and gone first, but he behaved as a gentleman in society and accepted the honor of attending his hostess. He sat on her right. Beauregard sat on Mars’s right. Keeping these two at opposite ends of the table, position intact, was both correct and wise on Kate’s part. The President won favor that evening by his modesty. Of course, he was only too delighted to converse with Kate. She cast her spell over everyone. Even women could not withstand her beauty. Behind her back, they carped, but in her presence, most simply trembled.

  The additional cold dishes from Ernie June provided the finishing touches to the feast. The food was lavishly complimented.

  After dinner, appropriate toasts were drunk, accolades sung, and the President spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Lord has blessed us with a great victory and heroic generals. Let us hope that we can conclude this unwanted but necessary war so that we might establish the old form of government and live according to the ways of our people.”

  Applause ricocheted off the walls.

  After the food, the guests wobbled to their feet. The orchestra began to play, and everyone danced until dawn when the last guests left on the wings of bourbon.

  For her services, Sin-Sin was presented with a beautiful French cloisonné vase, blood red with white fleurs-de-lys. A five dollar bill was folded in the neck. For Ernie June, Kate sent a bolt of English cotton, sun yellow, and a small portion of moire silk, robin’s egg blue. Ernie would find five dollars pinned inside the silk. While exceedingly generous, this was appropriate, for one never asked another person’s servant to assist without paying for the servant’s help.

  That night, flushed with triumph, Kate indicated she would favor Mars with her body. A nimbus of hope shadowed his brain, but the act itself banished it. Kate made love with an imperceptible conjugal revenge. She did not give herself to Mars; she let him do what he wanted. He fell asleep feeling more alone than ever, cognizant of the supreme irony of his position. Every man leaving the party tonight would kill to be resting where he was now. Sometimes Mars felt that he was dying inside. He was waiting for the war to finish the job.

  That same evening, Henley lay next to Lutie.

  “I know perfectly well you’re in love with her. I only ask, dear husband, that you behave with discretion. Don’t drag me through the mud.”

  Henley sat up. “Lutie! How can you talk like that?”

  “Oh, lie down. We’ve been married longer than Kate Vickers has been alive. We should have talked like this a long time ago.”

  “I declare you aren’t yourself since the nursing episode.”

  “I’m more myself than I’ve ever been. If you can seduce Kate Vickers, then I see no reason why I shouldn’t seduce Mars.” She giggled.

  Henley pounced. “That’s it! I should have known.”

  “Shut up, Henley. It’s too late for your vapid pride.”

  He flopped back next to her. “You amaze me. I never know what you’re thinking. I never know what you’re going to say and when you’re going to say it. I’d like to know how many men at that party have wives who would tell them to—

  “More than you might think,” she cut in, “if they have sense.” Lutie changed the subject to Kate and Mars. “They can’t stand one another.”

  “Oh?” Henley’s voice cracked like an adolescent boy’s. “What makes you think that?”

  “Women’s intuition.”

  “Oh.”

  “Would you like a cracker?”

  “No. Why on earth would I want a cracke
r?”

  “You keep saying ‘Oh.’ You sound like a parrot learning to talk.”

  “Oh—I mean, I don’t know what I mean.”

  “Years ago, Henley, you broke my heart. I vowed to put it out of my mind. Never to talk to you about it. And I haven’t, have I?”

  “No.” His hands felt clammy.

  “I was wrong. First, I can’t escape it. I am reminded every day. But more, it’s wrong when two people close the door on any subject. It’s a way to pretend the issue is settled. When something like that happens, it takes years to settle. Anyway, in my way, I was wrong, too.”

  “How could you be wrong? The fault was mine.”

  “The act was yours. Perhaps I didn’t love you enough.”

  Crushed with remorse, Henley whispered, “You loved me too much. I was young, and young men are very casual about such emotions.”

  Lutie opened up to him. “I did love you, but I was young, too. When I reflect I wonder did I truly love you as you are or did I want to control you, to turn you into someone else.”

  The gray light of morning flickered across Henley’s rugged features. “It’s hard to look back. Sometimes I feel that life is a road and I am shocked to glance over my shoulder only to find familiar landmarks receding. Sometimes, Lutie, I feel old.”

  “I do, too. Which is why I’m happy we had this talk. You see, I know Kate Vickers makes you feel young. When you look at me, you see a reflection of yourself.”

  “You’re beautiful, my dear.”

  “I’m getting old, Henley.”

  “Not to me.”

  “Yes, well, I’m delighted to hear it, but my point still stands. She makes you feel young, and I’ve learned enough not to deny you the pleasure she brings you.”

  “I haven’t—”

  “I don’t really care. In a marriage as long as ours, I think we have become as brother and sister in some fundamental way. Your body is yours to do with as you please. You always did anyway.”

  “Lutie,” Henley stammered, “in my heart, I loved only you. Always.”

  “You loved her. Back then.” She could see by the stricken look on Henley’s face that she touched him to the quick. “But I’ve been unfaithful, too.”