A Matter of Honor (Dusty Fog Civil War Book 6)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Hey there, Wigg!’ growled the guest of honor, before any more could be said. His voice was also that of a New Englander, albeit one of lower social origins than the feminist and the colonel in spite of his present military rank. Showing he was clearly sharing the misgivings of their host and the other guests, including the three young civilians she had brought with her, over the loud and incautious speech she was making, he continued as all eyes turned his way, ‘How well can you trust your servants?’

  Around six foot in height, with longish black hair going bald on top and a bulky body running to fat, Brigadier General Moses J. Buller was in his late forties. Despite having attained so high a rank, he was not a professional soldier. He was, as he frequently mentioned, a self-made businessman whose wealth and influence had enabled him to rise swiftly in the force of volunteers formed by his home State to help maintain the Union intact. His true nature was reflected in the reddened, blue-jawed and almost porcine features which gave a clear indication of his brutal and licentious spirit. While excellently tailored, his double-breasted dark blue uniform frock coat was filled until a strain was placed upon the two rows—of eight buttons each—running down its front. Heavy with bullion, his epaulettes were embellished with a single gold star as notification of his exalted status, and were tarnished. As was the case with the coat, there were food and wine stains spattering his off white trousers. Heavy and blunt toed, his black boots were more suited to walking than riding a horse. Although he had a red silk sash about his bulging middle, he was not wearing a weapon belt.

  ‘Absolutely!’ the tallish, skinny and rat-faced host of the dinner party stiffly replied, being resentful of anything which might serve to cast doubts upon him in the present company. His somber attire was eminently suitable for the successful undertaker he could claim to be, but was less suitable for the present circumstances. The garments emitted a noticeable smell of the formaldehyde-based solutions he employed in his work and was hardly conducive to a good appetite. Ignoring the fact that—like many of his kind—he kept his employees no better paid or accommodated than the “downtrodden masses” to whom he paid the same lip service as did all his guests in the interests of obtaining political support, he elaborated, ‘They are completely loyal to me!’

  ‘Be that as it may,’ Trumpeter grumbled, showing no sign of being convinced by the declaration and scowling his disapproval at the young woman. ‘I still feel it is in our own best interests that some discretion is shown in what is said!’

  ‘Discretion!’ Mary snorted, without offering to lower her voice, the word popping from her mouth as if it was causing a bad taste. Injecting the usual amount of unnecessary profanities, she went on belligerently, ‘If what we’ve come here for is too rich for your blood, you may always get up and walk out!’

  ‘By god!’ the colonel snarled, shoving back his chair. However, he refrained from rising or pointing out the ostensible reason for the dinner party. ‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you were a man!’

  ‘Like hell I wouldn’t!’ the brunette replied just as heatedly. ‘ And don’t jet my being a woman stop you trying to keep me quiet. I’ll meet you with swords or pistols, standing or mounted, any time you want to call me out!’

  ‘That’s easy enough for you to say!’ Trumpeter asserted. ‘Even if dueling wasn’t illegal, you know I couldn’t fight a woman!’

  ‘You’ve never got around to fighting anybody, if your career so far in the Army is anything to go by,’ Mary countered disdainfully and with some justification. ‘But, any time you’re so minded, illegal or not, just say the god-damned word and I’ll prove I can stand against you any way you’ve a mind to call it!’

  Anger darkened Trumpeter’s face at the words. Despite having attained rapid promotion, mainly due to possessing sufficient influential friends who were able to secure the removal to other posts of those senior to him, since enrolling as an officer he had taken great care to ensure he was never sent anywhere near the fighting lines. ix However, while he always appeared in public with a revolver in his holster, and a sword on the slings of his weapon belt, which (prompting a thirty-year veteran sergeant major with a very sound assessment of human character to spread the rumour he even wore them in bed), he had never taken the trouble to acquire skill in the use of either.

  On the other hand, in addition to the conventional education supplied by the college for women she had attended, Mary had formed a sorority among students with similar outlooks on political and social issues. They had taken clandestine, yet thorough instruction in subjects less usual than those offered by the official curriculum. Not only had they learned to ride astride, as well as on the socially acceptable side-saddle, but they had taken lessons in fencing, shooting, boxing and wrestling. Nor, having attained a standard of proficiency in such martial arts which was not equalled by her formal studies, had she forgotten what she was taught after graduation. Regarding it as a symbol of her equality with men, she had continued to keep herself in excellent physical condition and contrived to remain in practice at the acquired skills. x

  Looking from the arrogantly scowling young woman to the glowering colonel and back, Wigg had grown increasingly alarmed as the acrimonious exchange continued. Each had adherents present, attracted to Trumpeter for the patronage he could offer, and to Mary by virtue of her the sexual benefits she was willing to bestow upon those who gave her support. Already the two factions were glaring across the table at one another with thinly veiled hostility. If there should be a clash which in bloodshed, it would be almost impossible to keep the affair secret. Although breaches of the law against dueling were sometimes overlooked, the undertaker knew there were those in Washington who would be only too willing to use such an incident to discredit everybody even indirectly connected with it. What was more, being aware of the nature of his guests, he did not doubt the surviving losers would do all they could to encompass the downfall of the winners. While he cared nothing for whatever might happen to any of them, provided he was left in the clear, he was equally certain that he would suffer in the event of trouble with the authorities.

  However, his misgivings notwithstanding, Wigg was uncertain how he might intervene and restore order without the risk of offending one or the other group. No matter how much he might try to delude himself that he was a man of power and commanding presence, he knew he lacked the kind of forceful personality required to cope with such a potentially dangerous situation. Nor was he in such a position of authority that he could use it as a threat of personal retribution, if only by implication, to prevent the situation worsening.

  The undertaker was saved from the necessity of trying to intervene!

  ‘Hey now, easy on there!’ Buller boomed out with an authoritative joviality, coming to his feet. ‘There’s no call for any of us going off half cocked!’

  Although he would not have been averse to watching how an acceptance of the challenge to physical combat turned out, the General shared his host’s appreciation of the advisability of preventing it from happening. Furthermore, he was quick to see how the situation might be turned to his own advantage. Despite his belief that the assassination of President Lincoln was worthy of being given serious attention and put into effect, providing a suitably safe scheme could be thought out, he had been disinclined to make a declaration upon such a dangerous issue with so many other people being party to it. Concluding the altercation was offering him an opportunity to avoid being compelled to take a definite stand on the matter, without his reticence and lack of trust becoming obvious to the others, he was wise enough to make it apparent as he intervened that he was not favoring either party.

  ‘Come on now, everybody, let’s drink to the downfall of our enemies!’ Buller suggested, picking up his glass, after a few seconds had elapsed without the woman and the colonel offering to continue their angry exchange. With the toast drunk and the hostile pair seated once more, he continued, ‘I’ve got to attend a meeting with some of the General Staff later this evening and will
have to be leaving for it soon. So what’s this entertainment you’ve got arranged for us, Wigg, old man?’

  ‘Something I’m sure you will find most diverting, General,’ replied the undertaker, struggling to conceal the irritation he was experiencing over being addressed in such an excessively familiar fashion by his uncouth guest of honor. ‘I’ve heard you take an interest in such things.’

  ‘Then how’s about letting us see it now?’ Buller demanded rather than requested, wondering which of his interests was to be catered for and doubting whether it would be one of the less salubrious kind. ‘Like I said, I’ve got this important meeting !’

  ‘Very well, we’ll have it now,’ Wigg interrupted, accepting that he was unlikely to bring about any further discussion upon the real reason for the gathering unless he offered a diversion which would give tempers a chance to cool. Picking up the bell from the table, he rang it and told the butler who came in answer to his summons, ‘Fetch in that woman and her girls, Barnes!’

  ‘Very good, sir,’ replied the tall, graying haired and distinguished looking man, and withdrew.

  Two – I Could Lick the Pair of Them

  Returning from carrying out his instructions, the butler was accompanied by more than just ‘that woman and her girls’. They entered on his heels, walking in a loose arrowhead formation. Following them were half a dozen of the male servants employed, much against his wishes on account of the cost, by the wife of George Wigg who was at present on vacation in New York City. Spread along its fourteen-foot length, the men were staggering under the weight of a bulky roll of thick carpet.

  Recognizing the woman in the lead, surprised exclamations burst from some of the male guests. The response was caused by them finding it difficult to believe their sour-faced and parsimonious host would even know such a person, much less invite her into his mansion while giving a dinner party even though his wife was absent. Mary Wilkinson, although exhibiting better control over her emotions, also showed puzzlement rather than the kind of objections which might have been expected from a respectable—at least, by family background and upbringing—female member of good class society at finding herself in such unsavory company as was now entering the dining room.

  However, it was obvious that Brigadier General Moses J. Buller for one guessed what was forthcoming and was looking forward to it with considerable eagerness. He was devoting all his attention alternatively between the second and third woman after giving a brief nod of greeting to the foremost of them. Although he had never mentioned his taste for such a form of entertainment to the undertaker, and wondered how it had been discovered, he was pleased to think it was to be provided.

  Peering with what appeared to be shortsighted benevolence through gold-rimmed spectacles, as she walked demurely behind the butler, Mrs. Amy Cutler was dressed soberly and respectfully in a tastefully expensive fashion. Small, white-haired and fat, albeit in a ‘pleasingly plump’ rather than obese manner, she had pleasant features which seemed intended for kindly merriment. Certainly there was nothing in her demeanor to suggest the reason for her presence. She might have been a devoted grandmother paying a visit, or a kindly aunt who would not hesitate before offering to care for the children while their parents were on vacation.

  Nobody who was unaware of her true status would believe that Mrs. Cutler could put tongue to a range of profanity capable of turning a thirty-year Army sergeant, or an equally long serving chief bos’n’s mate in the Navy, green with envy. Or that the benevolent looking elderly woman was madam of the most exclusive and highly priced brothel in Washington, District of Columbia. Yet both were true. Furthermore, in addition to having established a well justified reputation for the cleanliness, health, honesty, discretion and excellent behavior of her ‘young ladies’, she would supply certain special services to cater to the less usual whims of those clients with sufficient money to meet her far from niggardly charges.

  Turning their respective gaze to the two much younger women following the madam, all the guests except Buller wondered what kind of specific service they had been brought to supply. The men considered it unlikely to be for sexual participation on their part and Mary shared their point of view. Even with his desire to win their support, neither she nor the men could envisage Wigg allowing such conduct on his premises. Feelings of delicacy and propriety would not have prevented him from doing so, if he believed such would serve his ends, but he would be afraid word of it might get out and have an adverse effect upon what a later generation would call his ‘public image’ although the term had still to come into usage.

  As was the case with their employer, nothing in the appearances of the two younger women offered a clue as to why they were being brought into the dining room. Both were wrapped from neck to foot in black cloaks. While they were attractive looking, the garments prevented anything more than a general impression of their figures being formed. Looking to be in her early twenties, the girl at the right was a blonde. Although hanging loose, her hair was long and showed signs of generally being plaited into braids on either side of the head. About five foot five in height, she offered a suggestion of being stocky in build and her pretty features had a distinctly Germanic cast. About the same age, unless appearances lied, the second of them was an inch or so taller and much more beautiful. Her skin pigmentation was a rich olive brown indicative of Latin, or at least Gallic, origins. However, her shortish and straight hair was of such a fiery red she might have dyed it that hue with a henna solution. Clearly more slender than the blonde, even though almost completely concealed by the cloak, her carriage was lithe and possessed the grace of a dancer.

  Of the guests, only Buller suspected what was going to happen. The moving of certain furniture and the unrolling of the mat, which was square in shape and a good three inches deep, gave strength to the supposition he had formed. After it was set in the corner they had cleared, so that the walls ran along two sides, the servants positioned chairs a short distance from it. With this done, they were ordered from the dining room by the butler and, following, he closed the door behind them.

  ‘Gentlem—!’ Mrs. Cutler began, after the guests had transferred from the table to the chairs at their host’s request. Then, peering in her apparently shortsighted fashion—which was only a pose, her eyesight being exceptionally keen—at Mary, she gave a sniff and made an amendment with obvious disapproval. ‘Lady and gentlemen, may I present two of my young ladies who have a quarrel they wish to settle?’

  ‘By god!’ Buller breathed, piggy eyes glinting as he resumed the study of each of the “young ladies” with interest. He had heard that such “settling of quarrels” was one of the special services offered by the madame. Having a penchant for watching spectacles of that kind, xi he went on at the conclusion of his inspection, ‘I was right!’

  ‘This is Lotte, of Germantown, Philadelphia,’ Mrs. Cutler claimed, ignoring the scowl of hatred being directed at her by Mary and, then her left hand indicated the redhead in the same fashion, ‘And Francoise, from Sault-Sainte-Marie, Ontario, Canada.’

  In response to the introductions, having walked until standing facing one another diagonally on the sides of the mat, the girls slowly spread open and dropped the cloaks to the floor behind them. Appreciative murmurs arose from the male guests at what was revealed by their action. All each ‘young lady’ now wore was a sleeveless white cotton bodice with an extreme décolleté, black tights and ballet slippers from which the hard padding of the toes had been removed. Nor did the precautions to minimize the inflicting of excessive or permanent damage while ‘settling their quarrel’ end there. Neither wore any jewelry and their fingernails were cut short.

  Each of the girls was attractive in a different kind of way. Whereas Lotte filled her skimpy costume almost to overflowing with her buxom yet curvaceously firm body, Francoise lacked her bulk. However, while much slimmer, the redhead could not be classed as skinny and flat-chested. Her bosom might fall short of the imposing bulk of the blonde’s, but it was
well developed for one of her build. What was more, although her bare arms and black-encased legs were far less obviously muscled, they did not look in any way fragile. Rather the opposite, in fact. They conveyed the impression of possessing a wiry strength which would lend itself to considerable graceful agility.

  ‘May the young ladies start, Mr. Wigg?’ the madam inquired, having allowed a few seconds to elapse while the male members of the audience feasted their eyes upon their companions.

  ‘W—What?’ the undertaker almost yelped, the word popping out as if he was startled at having been addressed. Running the tip of his tongue across his thin lips and keeping his gaze on the far from concealed feminine attributes of the buxom blonde, he went on hurriedly, ‘Yes, get them started!’

  ‘Lotte, Francoise!’ Mrs. Cutler commanded, although she sounded more as if she were suggesting the children should go and play in the garden rather than ordering the commencement of a fight. ‘You may settle your quarrel!’

  Converging in the center of the mat, which had clearly been manufactured for such a purpose, Lotte and Francoise began to circle, exhibiting more caution than aggression. Making ineffectual grabs with their hands, each time one made contact, she would release the hold and jerk away as soon as it seemed the other would lay hands upon her in return. Furthermore, on coming to grips in response to a signal redolent of annoyance from their employer—who had been watching the reactions of the audience—their behavior became closer to that of a couple of tomboy schoolgirls tussling to amuse their friends than grown women belonging to a profession which did not call for the possession of meek and mild spirits when seeking to settle a quarrel by means of physical combat.

  After turning around a few times on their feet and mauling ineffectually at each other, the girls tripped. However, they contrived to fall to the mat with far greater care than would have been the case had they been fighting seriously and with a mutual determination to emerge victorious. Nor was there any more noticeable anger or efforts at inflicting pain as they began to roll over and over, being careful to reverse direction when it seemed they would pass beyond the well padded surface. Although they grabbed one another by the hair, neither pulled hard enough to cause suffering. They clutched at other parts of the body too, but with just as little vigor.