by Marian Wells
As they walked slowly down the stairs, Olivia was deeply conscious of Alex’s hand, the strength and warmth of it. She smiled at him, touched the brooch, and then went forward to meet his father, who was getting to his feet.
“I needn’t be told who you are,” she murmured as she smiled at the older counterpart of Alex. “Now I know how he will look when he has gray hair.”
“My dear Olivia!” He bent over her hand. “I hope only that you are not disappointed enough to run away!” He turned to Alex. “The selection of your wife is one thing in which you have earned my total approval. Welcome home, Son; I hope it is to stay.”
Without waiting for a reply, he strode toward the door. “The carriage is waiting for us, and we shall have a delightful dinner together. We are going to the Congress House.”
They were seated away from the stringed ensemble, shielded by an ancient screen of rosewood, breathing air perfumed by the cluster of roses adrift in a crystal bowl. The elder Duncan nodded at the white-clad man in the shadows and addressed Alex. “It was fortunate you thought to leave a message at the club.”
“Have you a role in the convention?” Alex asked.
“Only as an interested landowner, hanging on every word our men have to say. I suppose you’re aware of the decision.”
“Yes, we were greeted by church bells and people rushing toward the city park early this morning,” Alex said as the waiter brought out a platter of shrimp surrounding a bowl of spicy sauce. “Ah, I see you remembered I like the shrimp with piccalilli. But then the House is famous for it, and you like it too.”
Alex turned to Olivia. “Does Mississippi serve shrimp in this manner?”
She nodded. “We’ve had it at home and I like it. But I think Mother’s cook uses more pepper.”
After the chocolate mousse and rich French coffee had been served, Alex’s father pushed aside the roses and leaned forward. The sparkle of excitement in his eyes was unmistakable, and Olivia’s heart sank. She glanced at Alex. Noting the white line of his lips, she dipped her spoon in the mousse and prayed, Father, please help him! Neither of us want to offend this man who means so much to Alex.
With his spoon poised over his coffee, the elder Duncan asked, “Well, what you do think of all that has happened?”
Alex’s shoulders sagged. “It’s a disaster. The worst possible decision South Carolina could have made.”
Slowly the white-haired man stirred his coffee. “Why do you say that?”
“For starters, the convention didn’t put the secession ordinance to a vote by the people.”
“They were totally confident it was the will of the people,” Mr. Duncan said softly. “Son, you are too young to remember the significant events we’ve seen through over the years, but we’ve labored under this burden of suppression and the threat of ruin for many years.”
“Since the thirties there’s been talk,” Alex said. “I’ve heard about it all my life. In addition, we were exposed to a thorough discussion of the legal ramifications at Harvard.”
Shrugging off the implications of the statement, the elder Duncan said, “The North and the South are more foreign to each other than the worst Hottentots and the gentry of England. In addition to not understanding each others’ needs and rights, our values do not awaken the slightest response in the wooden breasts of the North.”
“Are you referring to the slavery issue?”
“Certainly. Son, you know as well as I that we can’t get along without slave power.”
“Not without making the fortunes you have been making. Father, I can’t agree with slavery,” Alex protested, “but that isn’t the factor involved. Lincoln has said from the beginning that while he doesn’t approve of slavery, he will not rule against it. He believes slavery will eventually phase itself out of existence.”
“There’s not a one of us who sees Lincoln as anything other than a warmonger, a black Republican. In the past we listened to him insist that abolition was not his intent, but now he is strangely quiet on the issue.”
“Father,” Alex protested, “when this last outcry came from the South, Lincoln’s supporters tried to get him once again to issue a statement declaring his intention to refrain from tampering with slavery. We were in Washington at the time. Although he wasn’t in the city, his reply was in the newspapers. He asked what he should say to the South, since it had all been said before. He seemed to think saying the same things again would be a mockery, a goad to those waiting for something they could interpret as a retreat from his original position. A symbol of weakness.”
Alex took a deep breath and continued, “The South’s fair-haired son, Stephen A. Douglas, was quoted as saying he felt so strongly against secession that he’d like to hang every man higher than Haman who would work to break up the Union by resisting its laws.”
Olivia watched a red tide move over Mr. Duncan’s face. He leaned forward, grasping the edge of the table with both hands. “Alex, I will not allow you to address this issue when you’ve removed yourself so completely from our troubles. What can you know about our problem except Northern lies? It’s black—” He stopped, put his hand to his throat, and struggled to rise.
“Father!” Alex jumped to his feet and caught him before he fell.
****
The hospital room was lighted only by the flickering flame of one small lamp. During the hours that passed, Olivia’s eyes focused first on the lamp and then Alex’s troubled face.
The clock began striking midnight as the white-coated doctor dropped the stethoscope, smiled, and straightened up. He beckoned them to follow as he left the room. “Your father will be fine by morning. Just a touch of apoplexy, no doubt brought on by excitement and rich food. I suggest you let him rest here in the hospital for a week, and then you can safely take him home. He’s asleep now; you can see him in the morning.”
When Alex and Olivia were back in their own room, Olivia put her hands on Alex’s shoulders.
“I can see in your face that you’ve taken the responsibility for all of this.”
“I made him angry.”
“I thought you were gentle. The words were hard, but isn’t it possible he was angry because you spoke the truth and he knew it?”
Alex yanked off his tie. “Perhaps, but I shouldn’t have pressed the issue.” He looked down at her and suddenly smiled. “Sorry, sweetheart. This has been an ongoing thing between Father and me. It seems I do nothing right around him.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “I’d forgotten how bad it was. Livie, this is going to be a difficult time for us, and I’m afraid our unpleasantness is going to spill out on you.”
“What about your mother? Hadn’t we ought to send a message?”
His grin twisted. “It isn’t a life or death situation. Knowing Father, I’ll save myself some problems if I consult him before sending a message. Since he mentioned meeting our train, I doubt she will expect him home this soon.”
****
Early the next morning, when Olivia and Alex arrived at the hospital, they found Mr. Duncan eating breakfast and growling over the restrictions placed on him. He shoved his breakfast toast at Alex and said, “I feel as well as I’ve ever felt. Talk some sense into that doctor; I want to be out of here by noon.”
Alex shook his head. “Father, the doctor is taking every precaution to make certain you’ll be around long enough to be a grandfather. I think you’d better cooperate. Now—”
Startled, Alex’s father beamed at Olivia. Hastily she corrected his assumption. “Not now. But we do so badly want your grandchild. Please rest. We’ve brought every newspaper we could find. And we’ll stay in Charleston until you are ready to go home.”
“We need to know whether you want us to send a message to Mother today,” Alex added.
“Absolutely not. I’ll not have you worrying her. She doesn’t expect me until the end of the week. Thank heavens you asked before contacting her,” he snorted, looking at Alex.
He turned to Oli
via and the frown on his face disappeared. A sheepish grin crossed his face. “Actually, you can do me a big favor. Bertha gave me a shopping list a yard long. Would you mind?”
Olivia sighed with relief. “Oh, Father Duncan, I love to shop! I’ll be happy to do it. Perhaps Alex can carry parcels.”
He leaned back against the pillows and picked up his toast. “That would be a fine idea, Alex; just bring me some more reading material. Oh, and stop by the club, will you? I’ve written some notes and left them there. Being in the hospital will save me a lot of running around.”
****
It was Christmas morning. For a moment, before Olivia remembered where she was, her thoughts were filled with sleigh bells and snow, the warm cinnamon smells of Sadie’s kitchen.
But a gentle, “Merry Christmas, my darling!” brought her to reality.
Olivia rolled over and looked up into Alex’s face. “Oh, Alex!” He handed her a tiny package topped with a silver bell. She jingled the bell softly. “And here we are, in Charleston, stuck in this hotel, while your mother celebrates Christmas by herself and your father—”
“Growls at the nurses. I had expected the doctor to relent and send Father home yesterday. He did look grave, and I certainly can’t fault him for his concern. However, Father isn’t an easy person to be around.”
Alex bent down and kissed her. “I don’t have any mistletoe, do you mind?”
“Not if you’ll forgive me for not cooking a Christmas goose.” She caught her breath as she opened the box and lifted out a pair of booties and silver spoon.
“I saw the look on your face after my silly remark to Father, and I want to apologize. I wasn’t thinking. But neither was I considering a baby something to joke about.”
She wiped the tears from her face and slipped her arms around his neck. “Alex, don’t say more. I understand, and you didn’t hurt me. I want your child desperately. But more than a baby, I want you. Please don’t ever think I’d put a child before you.”
He held her close and kissed her. “Olivia, I’ve seen your disappointment and talked to the Lord about it. I’ve asked for a baby, but it must be in His good time.”
She nodded and blotted the last tear with the sheet. “Besides visiting your father, how shall we spend this Christmas day?”
“I have another surprise for you. When I took Father’s last message into the club yesterday, I met a lovely lady—the most charming hostess in the city of Charleston, they tell me.
“Naturally, she was curious about the messages and the circumstances we are in. She wouldn’t let me out the door until I’d promised to bring you to dine at her home today. There will be quite a crowd, and she insisted another couple wouldn’t inconvenience her.”
****
That evening in the stately Charleston home, surrounded by roses, mistletoe, candles, and towering Christmas trees, Alex and Olivia met Major Robert Anderson as their host introduced him to the other guests.
“Major Anderson is the officer in command of Fort Moultrie.” Olivia looked from the United States Army uniform to the grave face.
He shook hands with Alex, and kissed Olivia’s hand as she said, “Sir, the commanding officer at Ft. Moultrie! It is indeed a pleasure to meet you.” For a moment his eyes flashed with interest and curiosity, but their host had his hand under Major Anderson’s arm, leading him on.
During the evening, Olivia watched Alex meet the major’s eyes on several occasions. Each time she saw the curious flash before his attention was claimed. The evening ended, and while they were at the door, Major Anderson also came and shook hands with Alex. “I’m deeply sorry we haven’t had opportunity to get acquainted,” Alex murmured. “May I say we’ll be praying for you?”
The drawn features lifted in a smile. “Alexander Duncan, I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know. Perhaps someday—” he paused and glanced down at the woman slipping her hand through his arm. With a brief nod, he left the house.
****
The day after Christmas, when they arrived at the hospital, they found Alex’s father out of bed. Impatiently he pushed aside the newspapers and said, “Dr. Myers has released me to return home tomorrow. Now, Olivia, here’s another list of items to be purchased. If you two will be here around noon with the carriage, I shall be ready to go.” He took a deep breath and grinned. “There’s nothing that makes a person appreciate good health more than being confined in such a place for nearly a week.”
After breakfast the following day, Alex said, “We have all morning to ourselves. What would you like to do?”
“Not any more shopping!” Olivia moaned. “I’ve had enough to last me for the next year. But it’s lovely outside. I would like to walk along the waterfront again before we leave.”
The early morning wind had cleared the last wisp of mist, and the sun was warm on their faces. Olivia looked across the bay and remarked, “Look how the water sparkles.”
“There seems to be a touch of excitement in the air today.” Alex nodded in the direction of the people hurrying along the street. They crossed the street and started along the avenue bordering the waterfront.
Olivia glanced up. “Alex, look at the people standing on the balcony of the tall building just ahead of us.”
“It appears they’re using glasses to look at the harbor,” Alex said. “I’d like to walk that way.”
“Is that Fort Moultrie?”
“Yes, you can see it right off shore. The fortification to the south is Fort Sumter.” He pointed out the line of shadows. “Too far away to see anything.”
“That looks like smoke,” Olivia murmured, but Alex had turned away to greet a young man hurrying past.
Tipping his hat the fellow said in a distinct British accent, “Jolly bit of excitement. Didn’t expect a holiday to serve this kind of interest.” He pointed toward the fort.
“The foxy Major Anderson has pulled out of Fort Moultrie during the night. If you look closely, you’ll see smoke coming up. Abandoned the fort. It appears he’s burned all he can’t move and has taken refuge in Fort Sumter. See the folks up there?” He pointed.
“It was with a great deal of outrage that the citizens of Charleston apprehended his move. Some are saying it violates the agreement made with the government—with the Union. Pardon. For a moment I’d forgotten that Washington is now a foreign power.”
“But just what has he done that’s wrong?”
Olivia exclaimed, “Oh, look, there’s a boat heading for the island!”
“Come, let’s go up to the place where the others have gathered,” the young man urged, lifting a leather case. “I’ve got my field glasses and shall be glad to share them with you.”
When they reached the balcony a heated discussion was taking place. They heard, “Three cheers for the Union; it was rotten to make all those passes at the poor fellow.”
“I say he has violated the agreement stipulated. This is an overt step toward starting war with us.”
“Not so. Everyone knows Buchanan told the fellow to occupy either Fort Moultrie or Fort Sumter. If the deal was in his hands, we can’t complain if he moved south for the winter.”
There was a hoot of laughter, and the gentlemen beside him said, “It’s the State of South Carolina who has made a bad move. If this leads to battle, she’ll be blamed.”
“Ridiculous! South Carolina’s totally peaceable.”
With a snort the man beside Olivia dropped his binoculars. “Peaceable! The city is crawling with troops, worse’n a flea-bit dog.” He pointed at the harbor. “Now look, there’s a ship moving toward Fort Sumter as fast as it can go.”
“That fort is right in the entrance of the port. They can block the harbor if they receive reinforcements from Washington.”
A sober face turned toward Alex. “Makes us look like a bunch of ninnies, sitting here with our hands folded. There’s not a thing we can do. We daren’t fire a shot, and they don’t need to. They’re sitting up there nice and cozy.”
Chapter 7
Beth Peamble turned from the window with a sigh. “I’ve lived all my life in the South. This snow and cold is nearly more than I can endure. What do you people do during the winters?”
“Winter?” Sadie said thoughtfully as she put down the newspaper. “Why, all the things we don’t have time for in the summer. The menfolk suffer most; we women stay inside. The river traffic comes to a stop.”
Sadie roused herself and added, “Makes me think of Mike. Do wish we could hear from him. ’Twas was good to have the letter from Olivia, telling us all about the trip on the train and about Alex’s family. His father sounds like a—” She pursed her mouth and wrinkled her brow, and eyeing Beth she weakly added, “strong-minded man. But his mother sounds like a very lovely person.”
“A father like my father,” Beth said with a touch of bitterness in her voice. Sadie folded her hands in her lap and waited. “A Southern father knows more about running a plantation than—”
Sadie waited again. The words burst out of Beth. “I don’t suppose you want to hear about my home.”
“Thou needn’t justify thyself,” she said. “We don’t judge the past. Thou art welcome until thee chooses to leave.”
For a moment Beth hesitated, and Sadie watched the changing shadows in her eyes. Abruptly she moved and said, “Since my mother died—”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Two years ago. Since then Father hasn’t been easy to get along with. Y’all—” She paused and suddenly grinned. “All this business with the Quakers. It drives me wild to hear the language in church.”
Sadie chuckled, “Thee dost not have Quakers in the South?”
“Not where I live.” She eyed Sadie. “I know how you’ve been helping the slaves escape, but people like me—why do you take us all in? I know you took in Olivia and Alex as well as Mike Clancy.”
Sadie studied the unhappy face of the girl and felt a squeeze of pity in her heart. She recognized the symptom as nearly a daily occurrence. “The Lord’s laid it on us to do so. He’s blessed us bountifully, and we feel the need to bless others.”