“I cannot make too emphatic a statement that it is my desire and purpose to leave here as soon as possible,” Andrea said, as if reminding him of something he could easily forget.
“And I assure you I am doing, and will do, everything in my power for the accomplishment of that purpose.”
“Good then we agree on something.” Andrea crossed her arms.
“Yes, we agree. Now can I trust you to eat, Miss Evans?”
“If I can trust you to leave,” she said with a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “Like the Confederacy, I wish to be left alone.”
Chapter 27
“Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.”
– The Tempest, Shakespeare
A soft breeze carried the aroma of budding growth to Hunter as he made his way into the house. In the weeks following his latest encounter with Andrea, he had been in the saddle almost continuously. Now he was home at last for some much-needed rest. He paused at the stairs with one boot on the bottom step, then turned and proceeded toward the back veranda. He needed to soak up the peace and quiet of Hawthorne and clear the battle scenes from his mind before retiring.
“Mistis Andrea, you need a wrap?” he heard Izzie ask. “It getting chilly out heah.”
“That would be nice, Izzie, thank you,” came the reply.
When the coat settled on her shoulders, Andrea laughed. “Thank you, Izzie. That was fast.”
“You’re welcome,” Hunter said, taking a seat on the step beside her.
Andrea glanced around in surprise before focusing her attention back on the descending darkness. “I was not aware you were back.”
“Just got in. Came out to listen to the silence.”
Hunter pulled out his pipe and struck a match on the stone step. As he touched the flaming head to the tobacco, his mind wandered to their last meeting—though the same did not seem true of her. She appeared more intent on ignoring his presence than thinking about the last time she was in it.
“I see you’ve been making much progress,” he said to break the tension. “Hard to believe it’s been four weeks since the … procedure.”
Andrea cocked her head, apparently trying to decide if he was asking a question or merely delivering an assessment. She must have decided on the latter, because she did not respond.
“I think perhaps you are pushing yourself too hard,” Hunter prodded. “I believe Doc had hoped you would not put weight on your leg for six weeks.”
“Did you not say you came out to listen to the silence? If so, you may find that the quieter you become the more you will hear.”
Hunter shrugged and leaned back, placing his elbows on the step behind him. He had the feeling that his houseguest’s spirit of intolerance, if anything, had grown since last they had met.
But then she surprised him.
“Hawthorne is a perfect paradise,” she said staring out over the fields.
Hunter sat up and gazed at the serious look on her face. “And you are disappointed it is owned by a Rebel?”
“No.” She seemed to almost crack a smile. “I can’t allow that to detract from its splendor.”
“Well, I’m glad the fact that we’re in Virginia does not reduce its value in your eyes and estimation.”
“It’s quite magical, actually.” Andrea averted her gaze to her hands.
Hunter decided to push his advantage. “And yet you wonder why I fight for it?”
She looked back over at him, her brow furrowed, pondering his simple question.
“Fighting against Virginia would be like fighting against a piece of myself,” he said, leaning forward, eager to get her to understand. “I love this soil, perhaps more than I love my own soul.”
Andrea nodded, the fight and challenge in her eyes replaced by a heartfelt look of understanding. “I suppose it is natural to choose to fight for the soil from which you came.”
Her words and tone caused Hunter to pause. He followed her gaze from the giant shadows of horses in the fields to the wisps of white scudding across the sky.
“It looks like the clouds are racing the moon.” Andrea pointed heavenward. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Hunter glanced up just as a shooting star streaked across the velvety cloak of night. Andrea leaned into him and grabbed his leg excitedly. “Quick! Make a wish!”
She closed her eyes, while Hunter stared at her hand as if it were a branding iron searing his flesh. Indeed when she withdrew it, he flinched, imagining he felt a scorching handprint there. Clearing his throat, he returned his gaze to the sky. “So what did you wish for?”
“The first thing that came to my mind, of course. Peace.” Andrea looked up at him. “You could not have guessed?”
“No. I would have thought your first wish would be to leave here.”
She simply shrugged. “You are mistaken.”
Nothing disturbed the peaceful silence for a few more moments, until Andrea pulled the coat draped across her shoulders closer around her. Looking down, she shrieked, then stood in one swift movement. “How dare you!”
“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked, surprised by her sudden change in attitude.
“What’s wrong?” Andrea cried, her lightning temper apparently ignited. “You, sir, may pledge your allegiance to the Confederate States of America, but I do not!” She took the military coat off her shoulders and threw it at him. “Nor will I. Pray do not dress me in Confederate gray while I’m being held here against my will!”
The warm and innocent eyes suddenly blazed, the peaceful serenity of the evening shattered. “Miss Evans, I assure you, I meant nothing by it.”
“You call yourself a gentleman.” She flung the words over her shoulder in disgust, leaning heavily on the cane. “Circumstances may require that I live under the folds of your godforsaken flag, but I shall never owe my allegiance to it!”
“Miss Evans.” Hunter stood and followed her. “My only intention was to keep you from catching a chill, I swear to you. You may be sure of my pardon if you’ve taken offense.”
“You mock me,” she spat, turning back to shake her cane at him in an act of utter contempt. “If you think I will ever betray the Union, you are mistaken.
“I believe you’ve made that point before.” Hunter shook his head. How could he have known that draping his own coat across her shoulders would bring out this demon of rebelliousness? He listened to Andrea let out another string of curses that was neither polite nor especially easy on the ears. The words she used were of the type that should never have been heard by a lady, let alone cross the lips of one.
He stood dazed, shaking his head in amazement, while Andrea continued her tirade. She uttered maledictions all the way into the house, making it abundantly clear he had committed a sin that should not, and could not, be pardoned in this world or the next. Nothing he or his ancestors had ever done since their arrival in America was left untouched, nor did she fail to suggest where he and every human being in the Confederacy might go if the decision were up to her.
She was, without a doubt, the most perplexing, unpredictable, infuriating woman Hunter had ever met. Never had he seen a creature whose emotions went to such extremes, a wide-eyed, innocent child one moment, a willful, wild demon the next. There was no way of knowing which would appear or when, and he was tired of trying to figure it out.
If she is determined to remain enemies, I will have to respect her wishes. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a door slamming in the house. On second thought, I have no choice in the matter.
Chapter 28
“You prepare a table for me in the presence of mine enemies.”
– Psalm 23
Andrea paced back and forth on the front porch five days later, her cane clanking against the planks with each step. She paused when she noticed Hunter walking up from the barn, sweaty and dusty from helping the servants unload a wagon.
“Miss Evans,” he said, pushing his hat back from his forehead and resting his arms on the porch railing
. “Something wrong?”
“Yes, something is wrong! Andrea nodded toward the pasture. “I sent word down to you a half hour ago about removing that roan from the field. He’s been causing a commotion all morning.”
Hunter turned his head in the direction of a horse viciously nipping at another, and then rested his gaze back on Andrea. “Yes, I heard,” he said dryly, “but I had other duties to attend.”
Andrea snorted with indignation. “Then I’ll remove him myself!” She drew up her skirt up with one hand and started limping down the steps.
Hunter grabbed her by the arm. “Miss Evans, there’s no need to alarm yourself. Zach will be moving him to another pasture in a few minutes.”
“In a few minutes?” Andrea yelled. “That horse needs to be moved now!”
“Major Hunter?”
Hunter and Andrea whirled around simultaneously, neither understanding how they had missed the advance of the three horsemen in front of them, for the corpulent rider who addressed Hunter wore a lavish saber that clanged on the hardware of his saddle each time his horse moved.
“Yes, I am Major Hunter.”
Andrea eyed the man in the saddle with suppressed amusement. He was a veritable mountain of flesh, his vast proportions quivering with each movement of his mount. She saw no evidence that the flamboyantly dressed soldier had ever seen combat, for the simple reason that the target he made was unmissable.
Amid even more clanking and banging, the man dismounted hastily, and none too gracefully, and presented his papers to Hunter. “My letter of introduction from General Stuart, suh,” he said, bowing as if to a king.
Andrea stood just behind Hunter’s right elbow and, with a slight twist of her head, was able to read part of the contents. “ . . . Colonel Wellington, my wife’s cousin, is en route to Richmond on my behalf. As one of my cherished friends Major Hunter, I ask you to please do everything in your power to make him feel the importance he has not, nor will ever achieve, during his short respite with you.”
Andrea watched Hunter’s face and saw the muscles in his cheek twitch, though whether from mirth or anger she could not discern. Taking a deep breath as if stepping into a torture chamber, Hunter extended his hand. “Colonel Wellington, I presume?”
“Yes, suh.” Wellington saluted Hunter, then grasped his hand in a cordial, though loose, grip. Andrea saw in a glance that Hunter’s handshake was not nearly so lax, because Colonel Wellington grimaced, indicating his fingers were being mashed to a pulp.
When Hunter released his hold, the stranger turned his attention to Andrea, and all memory of the pain he had just endured seemed to vanish. He stood gawking in unmasked wonder, rudely eyeing her while licking his lips as if she were a leg of mutton hot from the oven.
“This is Miss Evans, my houseguest,” Hunter said, noticing the man’s gaze.
“A pleasure, madam.” Wellington removed his hat and bowed so low Andrea feared he might fall.
Andrea nodded but did not come out from behind Hunter. She had not failed to notice the way the man stared at her, and almost grabbed Hunter’s well-muscled arm for protection from his gaze.
One of the men behind Wellington cleared his throat, and other introductions were made. Corporal Bailey, a strapping, barrel-chested young man, grinned profusely at Andrea, while the other man, Private Tate, stared at the ground.
“Beautiful home you have here, Major,” Wellington said, walking a short distance, his saber jangling at his side. “Mind if we get a short rest before dinner?”
Andrea looked up at Hunter for his reaction, and smiled when he successfully suppressed the agitation she knew he felt. She understood now his friendship with General Stuart was a strong one, because it would take a great camaraderie to keep Hunter from throwing a man like this out on his ear.
“Indeed,” Hunter answered. “I will have a servant show you to your rooms.”
Hunter turned and headed into the house, expecting the entourage to follow, but Wellington held back. “We will, of course, have the pleasure of your company at dinner, Miss Evans,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm.
Andrea took an evasive step backward as if about to be kicked by a horse and successfully avoided contact. Hunter turned around and glared at her with a look that indicated he thought the situation entirely her fault. Then his gaze lowered to her bare toes clearly visible beneath the hem of her gown and his look turned to disgust.
Wellington cleared his throat and spoke in a loud voice. “I would not think of dining without your presence, Miss Evans.”
Andrea’s eyes fell at the look Hunter fired at her. “Of course,” Hunter answered, though his tone no longer conveyed warmth or welcome. “She’ll be there.”
* * *
Andrea assumed Hunter had shown his guests to their rooms and that all were napping before the dinner hour. She further assumed that Izzie and Mattie were busy in the kitchen preparing a feast for the visitors, because no one was anywhere to be found. Desperate for a drink of water, she decided to risk a quick trip down the stairs. Plopping herself on the polished rail, and using her cane for balance, she rode it to the bottom.
“Miss Evans!”
Hunter’s voice brought an instant reversal to the smiling position of her lips. It was the voice, Andrea surmised, he used on the field to order his troops to battle. “Sir?”
“That railing is for your hand, not your seat.”
“Yes, sir, but I—”
“I am trying to run a civilized household here. What have I told you about wearing shoes?”
Andrea was just about to ask him if he’d been born with his boots on, when he spoke again.
“Don’t come down here again without shoes on,” he ordered before turning away.
“Yes, suh!” Andrea held herself up to full attention and saluted him, mimicking his order with exaggerated gesticulations.
Hunter turned. “I saw that.”
Andrea looked at the mirror she had forgotten was there and limped up the stairs, forgetting her thirst in her hurry to escape. Sitting in her room, fuming over his discourteous behavior, Andrea heard a curt knock on the door, followed by his entrance.
“Dinner is at seven.”
“You seem to insinuate that I am the cause of this mess,” she said angrily, “but I find the aspects of dining at your table about as enjoyable as being kicked by a horse.”
“You’ve made yourself known to the Colonel, and he expects to see you. I only ask that you have regard for certain topics that must be . . . embargoed.”
Andrea stared out the window, waiting for him to finish.
“I know you may feel uncomfortable . . .”
Andrea looked back in surprise, thinking for a moment Hunter was going to express sympathy for forcing her to share a meal with a bunch of Rebels.
“… having to act like a civilized young lady for an evening.”
Andrea turned around. “You believe me incapable of the feat?”
Hunter remained quiet for a moment. “How shall you play a role for which you’ve had so little practice?”
Andrea’s cheeks blossomed. “I shall not essay to enlighten you on the subject now, but I assure you, Major Hunter, I can behave like a lady.”
He snorted. “Really? Sometimes, my dear, I believe you possess a disposition that is no less ferocious than that of a chained bulldog protecting a meaty bone.”
“That is not the impression I wish to convey,” Andrea said, forcing a smile. “I shall make every effort to change it.”
Hunter fell silent for a moment, apparently contemplating what she meant and what she might do. “Nevertheless, I find it necessary to advise you, for your own sake, to be civil this evening.”
“Civil?”
“Civ-il-ized,” he said, pronouncing each syllable.
“I am familiar with the word,” Andrea snapped with righteous indignation. “I do not know why you think you must school me in its meaning.”
Hunter took a step into the room and c
losed the door behind him. “Surely you understand the fine line I am treading with you in my home. Or must I explain the complexities of sheltering a Yankee spy?
“You underestimate me, Major,” Andrea said, regaining her composure. “I promise you that those men will believe me every bit as cultured as one of your Virginia damsels.”
“Does that mean you’ll suppress your usual temperament and try to gain some measure of control over your unguarded tongue?”
“That means I’ll advance no opinion unless I feel it is required or requested.”
Hunter sighed and placed his fingers on his temples, as he so often did in her presence. “If you’ve been dining on gunpowder again, Miss Evans, I sincerely hope you’ll keep the ammunition of your thoughts to yourself, and that you’ll refrain from discharging words of war at my table. Do I make myself clear?”
Andrea brushed a piece of lint from her skirt. “Are you saying you wish me to remain voiceless in the presence of my enemies?”
Hunter laughed. “Since when have you been voiceless under such conditions? Or under any conditions for that matter?” He held up his hand to stop her from answering. “I am here to tell you that your obstinate behavior will in no way be tolerated tonight.”
Andrea planted her cane in front of her and stood her ground. “And so you simply expect me to submit to your demands?”
Hunter put his hat back on, and spoke with the authority of one who is not to be ignored or refused. “I’ve said all I came to say. I’ll appreciate your forbearance on all issues relating to the war. Pray do not take it lightly.”
When he turned to leave, Andrea turned her back on him. But a moment after the door closed, she heard it reopen. “Miss Evans, this is somewhat of a formal affair. You will kindly wear shoes?”
Andrea whipped her head around and glared, but the door had already closed. She stuck her tongue out in his direction anyway before throwing herself face down onto the bed. As far as she was concerned, he had thrown down a challenge. She was not one to refuse it.
Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia Page 23