The Trouble With Misbehaving

by Victoria Hanlen

  C.C.’s expression turned peevish as Beau took her elbow. He led her through the decorative iron gate and up the brick walk. They climbed the steps over the English half basement to the wide porch filled with large Corinthian columns. Tall, heavily molded pocket windows reflected back at them. Beau removed his hat and gave the brass whale-shaped doorknocker several whacks.

  Blooming camellias spread their sweet scent about the porch.

  They waited in tense silence. C.C. leaned to examine a tall, maroon and white crepe myrtle. Spanish moss dangled from its dappled branches like long, frizzy gray hair.

  The door bolt finally rattled.

  An elderly black servant slowly pulled it open. His face lit up with a big smile. “Captain Beau! It is so good to see you again! Come in! Come in! Miss Priddy should be back any time. She went down to the train depot to help the Ladies’ Soldier’s Aid Society. You know how devoted she is to our soldiers—”

  C.C. interrupted, “We’re sorry to call without giving proper notification. Perhaps another time.” She turned to walk back down the steps.

  “No need, Miss—?”

  “Collins.” Beau grinned, as he grabbed her arm and ushered her back. “This is Miss Collins, Erastus.”

  “So good to meet you, Miss Collins. Please stay and be our guest. Miss Priddy will have an apoplexy if she finds you came to call and she wasn’t here to greet you.”

  C.C. gave Beau a gimlet eye.

  He pretended not to see it. “We’d be happy to wait. We don’t want to put you to any inconvenience, though.”

  “No inconvenience a’tall. May I take your hat, Captain?”

  Beau dug into his sack and handed Erastus a package instead. “This is for you and Sally.”

  “You didn’t need to bring us nothin’, Captain. Your company is all we’uz need.”

  “I seem to remember Sally saying how much you both enjoyed what’s in that box.”

  Erastus smiled sheepishly and opened the package. “Oh, now isn’t this thoughtful. Sally and I do like a good cup of tea. Thank you. Thank you, Captain.” Erastus grinned as he held out his trembling hand, took Beau’s hat and placed it on a hook by the door.

  “Right this way, now. Miss Priddy will want to see you in the parlor.” He slowly led them down the hall over a lovely runner covering wide pine planks. After pushing open twin heavy oak doors, he motioned for them to enter.

  ***

  A startled orange cat darted across the room from his spot at the floor-to-ceiling windows and dove under the sofa against the wall. His tail continued to twitch out from his hiding place.

  C.C. stepped across an exquisite carpet to sink into the couch opposite and gazed about the yellow room. The captain sat in one of the large matching side chairs. Lovely landscapes and wallpaper matched the brightly colored carpet and velvet drapes.

  A fine pianoforte filled one corner. Porcelain statuettes and a crystal-covered clock sat on an exquisitely carved marble mantel. Two ornate gas chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, while thick plaster crown moldings circled the room.

  A clean, flowery scent pervaded the air. The more C.C. observed about the room, the more uneasy she became. The woman obviously had taste and wealth…and she loved the captain.

  “Captain Tollier!” A melodious southern drawl broke through the quiet. “I can hardly believe my eyes. Is it really you?” A short, squat woman trundled into the parlor.

  The captain jumped to his feet.

  “Where have you been? I’ve worried my hair gray over you,” the woman exclaimed.

  C.C. gazed in wonder. Gelatinous gray eyes resembling freshly shucked oysters floated on either side of her wide, flat nose. Thin salt and pepper hair, starting right above owl-like eyebrows, stretched back to a tiny bun at her collar. A triple chin bulged over her lace neckline and twitched. “Captain Tollier, I am overjoyed to see you alive and well.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. You are most kind.” He bowed.

  C.C. had never seen the captain smile so sweetly or show such deference.

  “Miss Pricilla Priddy, may I please introduce Miss Calista Collins.”

  The woman jerked and didn’t so much turn, as rock her girth into place.

  C.C. stood and smiled. “I’m very pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  Miss Priddy clearly had not seen her when she entered the room. Her jaw and three chins dropped while her eyes remained unreadable. Perhaps she was looking at C.C. Perhaps she had gone into a trance. She was making C.C. more uncomfortable by the second.

  The captain volunteered, “Miss Collins is my brother’s wife’s cousin. She has returned from London to help her uncle and family who own Clarkston Plantation.”

  “Why were you in England?” Miss Priddy asked pointedly.

  Captain Tollier jumped in again. “She was sent there to live with her aunt, my brother’s mother-in-law, until the hostilities were settled on this side of the pond.”

  A small lie, but C.C. was glad for his quick response. It would save a lot of questions.

  Miss Priddy sighed. “I do so enjoy your cultured British accent, Captain.”

  He dipped his head and pulled a box from his paper sack. “I brought you something from London, ma’am.”

  “For me? Aren’t you a dear!” She tore open the package. Little jars lined a three-tiered case. “This is the nicest, most thoughtful present anyone has ever given me. Look at all these precious spices: cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, cardamom, star anise and pepper. I haven’t been able to buy some of these since the war began.”

  He smiled and cut a quick glance to C.C. before addressing their hostess. “I have a big favor to ask of you, ma’am.”

  “You know I would do anything for you, Captain.”

  “Since our arrival in Wilmington, we have discovered the difficulty in procuring safe accommodations for a lady. It is surprising how Wilmington has changed in such a short time.”

  “Most definitely. Many of our citizens fled to the state’s interior. She grasped his hand. “I’d be most happy for you and Miss Collins to stay. There’s plenty of room for you both.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, edging toward the door. “You are too generous. As we’ve just put into port, there is still much I must attend to in town. Miss Collins only needs to stay the night. Her train leaves for Goldsboro tomorrow.”

  “I know you are a busy man and am sure you’re exhausted, Captain. Allow me to see you out.”

  As Miss Priddy and the captain reached the parlor door, he turned back. “You’re in good hands, Miss Collins. I’ll pick you up for the train tomorrow at nine a.m.”

  While Miss Priddy saw the captain out, C.C. sat wearily in the silent, opulent parlor berating herself for not arranging appropriate accommodations before arriving in Wilmington. Her hostess, no doubt, only agreed for her to stay in hopes the captain might also. She obviously cared a great deal about him. But if Miss Priddy decided C.C. was a competitor, this night could prove highly awkward.

  Chapter 17

  C.C.’s head fell back against the top of the sofa, her mouth gaping. Exhaustion had finally won. The creak of the parlor door startled her awake. She sucked in a snort and bolted upright.

  Miss Priddy trudged into the room.

  Erastus followed close behind carrying a tray with two glasses and a pitcher.

  “Would you care for some refreshment?” Miss Priddy drawled.

  “Yes, thank you.” C.C. held her hand over her mouth to hide a yawn.

  Her hostess scooted onto one of the high-backed chairs. While she waited for Erastus to hand them each a glass, she asked, “Are you truly Captain Tollier’s relative?”

  C.C. almost groaned. She needed sleep, a bath and a hot meal, not probing questions. But news and conversation was the price one paid for being a guest. Her fatigue-clouded mind couldn’t contrive a better, more believable answer, so she said, “Yes, ma’am, I am a relative by marriage.”

  “Mmmrreeeror, Ffsss” the cat hissed from under the s
ofa.

  Miss Priddy jerked. “Fosco! You naughty cat! What are you doing in here? I’m sorry, Miss Collins. Erastus, will you get that ol’ tomcat out from under the sofa?”

  C.C. fought the yawn climbing up her throat and tried to brighten. “You named your cat Fosco? I gave my dog the same name. Did you read The Woman in White?”

  “Yes!” Her hostess’s voice had an eager note. “Wasn’t Count Fosco the most fiendish villain? It was the perfect name for that cat. He’s the best mouser I’ve ever had.”

  Erastus plodded over to the sofa and got down on his hands and knees. “Git yourself out of there you mangy ol’ cat.” He smacked the rug several times. A blur of orange fur shot from the side of the sofa and out the door.

  “Thank you, Erastus.” Miss Priddy’s face remained expressionless. “Since we have company, let’s have Sally open a jar of preserves and make her special berry biscuits for supper.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Erastus grinned ear to ear. “You are in for a treat, Miss Collins. Everyone loves Sally’s berry biscuits.” He turned and slowly tromped from the room.

  While they sipped their lemonade in silence, C.C. began to feel uneasy again. She searched for a topic of conversation.

  “Miss Collins,” Miss Priddy finally said. Her strange gray eyes neither blinked nor moved. “You are the only woman of my acquaintance who has run the blockade. Many men have died or gone to prison making the attempt. Tell me, is the captain as daring as they say?”

  C.C. decided it best to tread carefully. After all, the woman was allowing her to stay in her beautiful home, a stranger who’d been plopped on her doorstep, apparently because of her admiration for a certain handsome captain.

  “If I should be so bold, ma’am, I noticed a real change come over him when you entered the room. I have not seen him smile so warmly. I dare say, you bring out the best in him—a most admirable talent.”

  “I do?” Her hostess’ voice trilled with pleasure while her features remained unreadable. A large toad would have been less inscrutable.

  “Most agreeably so.” C.C. smiled. “As to your question about Captain Tollier, I must tell you I have never seen a cooler head or more calculating, determined mariner.”

  “Truly?” The fingers on one of Miss Priddy’s hands fluttered.

  “Most definitely. In my short acquaintance with the man, he can be as regimented and authoritarian as any captain, but his men appear to idolize him. When we were outnumbered and outflanked by Yankee gunboats, a very different man emerged. Instead of shouting orders he became very still and thoughtful. He whispered commands and his men jumped.”

  “He was fearless?”

  “Why, yes.” Now that she thought about it in those terms. “In a very controlled and unexcitable way, he barely paid all those enemy ships a never-you-mind.”

  “Oh, gracious me, were you chased?”

  “On and off for two days.”

  “Tell me the whole of it!” she commanded.

  C.C. marveled at the woman’s self-possession. Whether she intended to or not, Miss Priddy definitely had a flair for intimidation. She sat perfectly still, apparently not even breathing, holding her features immobile like an automaton whose inner spring had run down. Were it not for the movement of her lips and her melodic, ebullient voice, it would be difficult to know what the woman thought.

  Exhausted and rather light-headed, C.C. found herself chattering. “I’ve never encountered such excitement! When we approached Cape Fear, a dark mist coated everything. No one saw the three Yankee vessels until it was too late.

  “The captain slowed the ship. Then rockets exploded. Then two more gunboats appeared at New Inlet blocking the entrance to Cape Fear.”

  “Good Lord!” Miss Priddy blinked.

  “‘Heave to or we’ll blow you out of the water!’ a Yankee screamed over his voice trumpet from one of the gunboats. When two more vessels appeared astern it looked like we were hemmed in. But Captain Tollier didn’t stop. Instead, the Redemption shot forward toward the two gunboats at the entrance.

  “‘I said heave to!’ the Yankee screamed.

  “Suddenly the gunboats flashed blinding lights that lit up everything bright as day.

  “‘Blow them out of the water!’ they shouted.”

  Miss Priddy’s chubby little hand flew to her cheek. “My word!”

  “Shells exploded all around us, grapeshot rattled off of everything. But Captain Tollier didn’t stop. He drove the ship right down the middle between the two gunboats. Before I knew it, we were over New Inlet’s bar and into the Cape Fear River.

  “Then Fort Fisher started firing their heavy long-range guns.” C.C. shivered remembering the sound. “Have you ever been under those frightful weapons of destruction?”

  “No. I’ve heard them in the distance, but I’ve never been under them.”

  “Such an eerie whir and whine as if they were cutting open the sky. Do you know they can hit a target five miles away?”

  “Glory be!” Miss Priddy exclaimed.

  “We all cheered when one of the shells hit a Yankee vessel. That sent the rest of them racing back out to sea.” Memories of the intense excitement and Captain Tollier’s thrilling kiss afterward made her pause. When she realized her thoughts had strayed, she quickly collected herself and gazed innocently at her hostess.

  Miss Priddy’s mouth hung open. Her eyes remained dead and fixed on C.C. After several moments of silence, she stirred back to life. Her lips and chins began to tremble. “My dear, what a brave girl you are.”

  Until now, C.C. realized she’d never had such an exciting tale to tell. Relating it to Miss Priddy somehow made it all the more thrilling.

  “An old woman like me would have died of heart failure.”

  “Old? I think not.” She smiled. “You are clearly blessed with strength and health.”

  “I’ll be thirty-nine in January.”

  “I’m nearly thirty myself,” C.C. said.

  “I cannot believe it. Captain Tollier introduced you as Miss Collins. You did not marry?”

  “No. And you?”

  Miss Priddy fingered a diamond pendant hanging from a gold chain around her neck. “When I was young…I almost…but it was not for me,” she sighed. “My father’s plantations became my consort.”

  C.C. gave her a warm smile. “We are anomalies, are we not? Society assumes we’re ill-equipped in temperament and skills to be caretakers of fortunes. I, too, had an early close call before I inherited. It made me skeptical of all men’s intentions.”

  Miss Priddy waved her chubby hand weakly through the air. “This…great unpleasantness…has changed much of my thinking.” Her voice became somber. “I have witnessed in the span of only a few years the decimation of three generations of our beloved men.”

  She fiddled with a wisp of hair at her ear. “I now cherish attentions I previously distrusted. The senseless death and deprivation is appalling. Our dear men make such huge sacrifices. When the hospital train brings our soldiers to town, I do all I can. There is such nobility and courage in them, even as they suffer their last breath.”

  “Your dedication is admirable, ma’am. It must be heartbreaking.”

  “Oh, yes, it is. Some can no longer hold a pencil. I help them write their letters to wives, mothers, children…sweethearts. The love and devotion in their words often makes me misty-eyed. Sometimes I wish’t—” she paused, her face a phlegmatic mask “—sometimes I wish’t their letters were for me.”

  “Have you changed your mind about marriage, then?”

  Miss Priddy stroked her pudgy cheek. “Perhaps I was meant to be free. I have the energy and money to help our poor soldiers. We have lost so many of our precious men to this abominable Northern Aggression. Captain Tollier has been most generous to my Soldier’s Relief Fund. He has donated an abundance of thoughtful gifts: the little necessities that help a man feel human and civilized. I count him as a dear friend and a true Southern hero.”

  “The captai
n never mentioned his passion for the cause.”

  “I understand he was an officer in the Royal Navy,” Miss Priddy said warmly. “Such a noble, courageous man. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. If I were a younger woman, I’d find myself quite in luh—” She broke off, and her hand fluttered to her lace collar. “Do you have property in North Carolina, Miss Collins?”

  C.C. blinked at the abrupt change. The woman all but admitted she loved Captain Tollier. She certainly wasn’t going to try to dissuade her of her notions. Prolonging this interview might cause her to fall over in exhaustion at any moment. “No. My father was a successful New York merchant.”

  “How did you happen to have family here?”

  “My mother’s father owned plantations in North Carolina. My father shipped my grandfather’s cotton to England and northeastern mills. Eventually he married my mother and took her to New York.”

  “So your father was a Yankee?”

  “No.” C.C. paused. “Well, not what the word has come to mean, anyway. He and two of his brothers were born in England and immigrated to New York where they set up business. They have all since passed on.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Miss Priddy murmured.

  “Thank you. That is most kind.” C.C. took another sip of her lemonade. “After my father died, my mother returned to Clarkston to help her brother’s ailing wife and family. Louisa died some months back. Now my mother and uncle are ill. My mother needs my help as do my uncle and little cousins.”

  “Clarkston was so beautiful, so gracious. I went to John and Louisa’s wedding, years ago,” Miss Priddy, said wistfully, then rocked forward in her chair and gazed steadily at C.C. “But I must tell you, Miss Collins, our fair state has become a very dangerous place. Yankees, gangs of bandits and cutthroats roam the countryside. If you would permit a recommendation, your attire is exquisite, but I fear impractical for travel. The attention might bring you harm. Do you have anything less…fetching?”

  C.C. rubbed her temple. “Perhaps not. What do you suggest?”

  ***

  Beau and George had moved to the packed bar for a last drink before heading back to the hotel. The agent’s dinner had been the typical congratulatory affair. Beau thought the saloon did a fine job. But the greasy smell of roasted pork and onions would probably cling to his frock coat for days.