On the arm of her brother, Hester was the first bride to enter. She wore a soft pink dress with embroidered lace at the neck and sleeves, and her smile was radiant. Steven escorted her to the front, kissed her hand, and then took a seat next to Adam.
Maralee wore white with her golden hair in ringlets. One hand around her father’s arm, she held a large bouquet of flowers and she too smiled. But as Maralee neared the altar, Adam fearfully watched the side of his wife’s face. Rose had her jaw set. Her teeth were meshed and her eyes never left the floor. Pretending to change positions, he inched a little farther away.
The parson waited until both couples faced him before he stood up. Then he took his place behind the podium, opened his Bible, nodded for Mrs. Claiborne to stop the music and cleared his throat. “Friends...”
“Wait!” Maralee shouted. Suddenly, she spun around with a glare on her face as hot as her sister’s. Furiously, she searched the faces of the crowd.
“So, there you are, Nora Barclay!” Maralee shouted, finding the startled woman sitting on the isle of the third row. “I believe these are yours.” Using all her might, Maralee hurled her bouquet of flowers at the startled woman.
Just in time, Caleb ducked in the first row and Rachel ducked in the second. Flower petals flew through the air and the bouquet squarely hit Nora Barclay’s defensively raised arms before it fell in her lap. “You wanted him last night,” Maralee shouted, “you can have him today!”
“Maralee!” Dulane sputtered, his eyes bulging.
“Quiet!” Maralee snapped, turning her viciousness on him. “Rose saw the two of you last night in the schoolhouse.”
“But all men do it,” Dulane whimpered.
“Not if they are wise,” Maralee shouted, abruptly heading back down the aisle.
“But you cannot mean you will not marry me,” he persisted.
“Oh, yes she can!” Rose said, suddenly lunging out of her seat. Adam quickly grabbed her around the waist while Dulane scurried behind the parson for protection.
Maralee marched back up the isle and took hold of Rose’s arm. “Come along, sister, there’s an unpleasant stench in here.”
“Indeed there is,” Rose agreed. She straightened her bonnet, lifted her chin and turned to go. “Besides, we have a happy wedding to attend at Mahala. You’re all invited, naturally—all but Dulane.”
Stunned, the crowd watched until the door slammed behind them. Then in unison, they turned back to stare at Dulane.
Still standing at the altar, John turned to the crowd. “I say the man is honor bound to marry Nora.”
Nora instantly stood up. “Me? Marry an ordinary man like Dulane Ashfield? Never!”
“Ordinary?” Dulane wrinkled his brow and peeked around the parson.
“In fact, I find him detestable!” Nora went on, throwing the flowers to the floor, turning, and walking out.
“Detestable?” Dulane hotly asked, giving up his hiding place. “Now see here.” But no one listened. One by one, the guests followed Nora out.
Watching from the front row, Steven whispered to Adam, “Maralee was magnificent.”
“Indeed she was. I don’t imagine I will ever have the courage to take a mistress,” Adam muttered back.
“With a wife like Maralee, what man would want one?”
“That is precisely what Rose says.”
“Come along, Parson,” Caleb said, helping Elizabeth to her feet. Lovingly, he pecked her cheek and guided her toward the back of the church.
“But...but the furs?” Dulane shouted after them.
“Pity about the furs,” said John, He took Hester’s hand and fell in behind the parson.
The church was almost empty when Rachel and Suzanne stood up. “Odd, is it not?” Rachel asked. “I thought they meant to hang him.”
“So did I.” Suzanne took a deep breath, and then let out a long sigh. “And I’ve seen mules more handsome than Dulane.” Then they too were gone
Finally, the church was completely empty, except for the dejected groom standing by the pulpit and Uriah facing him from the back row.
“But, Mister Carson, all men do it.”
“Do they? I never did.” Slowly, Uriah put on his hat and stood up. “What a pity. Your entitlement to all my brother’s wealth – gone in a moment of lust.”
“Mister Carson, I...” Dulane started.
But the door abruptly slammed shut, and the little log church at the foot of the hill fell silent.
CHAPTER 5
John and Hester were married in the cool of the evening. The guests sat in Mahala’s assembly room under decorations from the night before, and Mrs. Claiborne played the harpsichord in the music room. This time, the Carson family beamed with happiness, and none seemed to notice John’s lack of exuberance. Maralee bravely watched the vows, and then slipped out to take a long walk. Soon, Hester’s brother followed, and neither had returned by the time John helped his new wife into the carriage, climbed in beside her, and began the planned three-day wedding trip.
But early the next morning, John and Hester were back. His face was gaunt, his eyes wild, and John looked near death when three men carried him up the stairs and put him to bed. Uriah instantly began shouting orders to bring water, blankets, firewood, and spirits to ease the pain. John’s swamp fever had returned with a vengeance.
“AND THE MAN AT THE inn assured John of complete privacy,” Hester said, removing her hat, then settling into a chair in Mahala’s small sitting room. “But can you guess what?”
“What?” Rose and Maralee asked at the same time, seated next to each other on the davenport.
“Oh my, twins do think alike, don’t they? I do hope we will have twins, hundreds of them. Steven and I were quite lonely as children. Which reminds me, why is Steven still here? He intended to leave at early light this morning.”
“Papa wished to make further arrangements with him,” Maralee answered.
Rose giggled. “He stays to see Maralee.”
Maralee got up and strolled to the window. She looked out for a long time before she said, “A day ago, I was set to marry an abominable man. Steven is different. He is kind, thoughtful, extraordinarily wise, and I cannot believe I did not notice. Do you really think he cares for me?”
“I believe he has since the first time he came to Mahala,” Rose answered.
“So do I,” Hester agreed. “Rose, has anyone told John’s father about our secret?”
“Papa says to wait. He’s not at all certain how Uncle will take the news. Nevertheless, you should tell John. He is your husband now.”
“I will, as soon as I’ve thought of the very best way. Now, I believe I was telling of our wedding night.”
“Indeed you were,” Maralee said, hurrying back to her seat. “Do go on.”
“Well, we were not far from Grover’s Inn when it began to rain. It rained so hard, we could hardly see out the windows, and merely leaving the coach drenched my clothing. John roared with laughter at the sight of me, until a passing coach hit a rather large puddle and soaked my husband to the bone. Did it rain here?”
“Indeed it did,” Maralee answered, “but do go on.”
“Well, John said he was hungry. I did not believe him, not after all the food we ate before we left. I think he was somewhat anxious, my having already had a husband. Anyway, we took a room at the inn. I on one side of the partition, naturally, and John on the other, we changed out of our wet clothing and went off to dine. The dining hall was quite festive and we had roast beef, potatoes...”
“Hester, do not suspend us so,” Rose groaned.
“Oh, very well. We returned to our room, where, he on one side and I on the other, changed into our night clothing. We had only just blown out the candle, climbed into bed and John was about to kiss me, when we heard an odd creek in the ceiling. Before we had our wits about us, rain water poured down on our heads.”
“How dreadful,” Maralee said.
“Naturally, we dressed again. I thoug
ht to have my frock ironed. But John seemed annoyed, so I did not inquire.”
“A wise choice,” Rose muttered.
“That is what I thought. John hoped to secure another bedchamber, but there were none. So we spent the night in the coach...with the driver.”
“Oh,” Maralee said.
“It was then I became aware of John’s fever. By daylight, his skin had turned quite yellow and his eyes were hollow. Will he be all right, do you think?”
Rose gently touched Hester’s hand, “You did right to bring him home. His father is accustomed to caring for him.”
“Oh, Rose, if I lost him now, I cannot think what I’d do. I love him so very dearly, far more than I ever loved my first husband.”
IN THE DARKENED ROOM, Uriah pulled his chair closer to John’s bed. He dipped a wet cloth in water, wrung it out and then laid it across John’s forehead. He knew the routine well and it was the same each time. For the first day and a half, John suffered the unbearable headache, a raging fever, uncontrollable sweating, and he thrashed in his bed. Then his mind revisited the war, causing him to shout warnings to men long since dead. Occasionally, he tried to hide beneath his covers, his hands trembling with fear. On the third day, chills sent his teeth into endlessly chattering.
Hester often poked her head through the door, but Uriah sent her away. On the fourth day, John finally quieted, and his garbled speech became little more than whispers. Instead of the ravages of war, he seemed to aimlessly watch pleasant images – dancing on the far wall. And on this fourth day, which was also the fourth day of his marriage to Hester, John blurted out the words his father feared most – “Sing for me, Polly, I do love you so.”
Uriah slowly closed his weary eyes and hung his head.
On the fifth day, John slept, and on the sixth, he was hungry.
IN WINTER, THE CARSON family took up indoor delights such as chess and cards. Occasionally, guests came for dinner. Mostly, the family spent the long evenings reading books, and soon, one day seemed to just melt into the next. Then came an express announcing Steven’s arrival for Christmas. Suddenly, Mahala was aflutter. The house was readied, the marketing tended, and the doors were thrown wide open to welcome him. On the second of January, Steven and Maralee were married.
The following day, they left for Savanna and everyone was exhausted.
IN THE BOOK ROOM ON a cold February evening, Rose and Uriah sat opposite each other near the hearth; his nose in his Bible, and hers in Pilgrim’s Progress. Distracted by a crackle in the hearth, Rose lowered her book and watched her uncle mouth the words as he read.
“Uncle.”
“Uh huh,” Uriah halfheartedly answered, his eyes still glued to his book.
“Uncle?”
“What?” he asked, peering over the top of his reading glasses.
“Must you always take John with you when you go to buy horses?”
“I do not take him, he goes of his own accord. We cannot rebuild our herd without them, you know.”
“I know, but...”
“But what?”
“Well, it’s only that John and Hester spend so little time together. When he’s not with you, he’s enticing my husband to go to Yorktown, just to see if MacGreagor has returned. Uncle, he neglects his wife. Tell him to take Hester on a holiday.”
“No!” Uriah answered too sharply. He took in a long, deep breath, and slowly let it out. “I did not mean no, precisely, I meant it is unwise. Suppose the fever comes?”
“Suppose it does? Hester can manage, she’s not as incompetent as you think.”
“Rose, you have not mentioned a holiday to Hester, have you?”
“Of course not, it is John’s place to suggest it.”
“Does Hester say she is unhappy?”
“No, but Hester does not know he is not himself. When he is with her, he is guarded in his affections. Uncle, who is Polly?”
Uriah removed his reading glasses, slowly folded them, and carefully laid them on the table. “Tell me, where have you heard that name?”
“From John. On the day he wed, he thought he heard Polly singing.”
“I see. He was ill, as you may recall, and when the fever comes, he says all manner of odd things.”
Rose set aside her book, got up and crossed the room. She sat down beside him and slipped her hand around his arm. “Wasn’t it you who taught me not to lie? You said one lie begets another, then another, until even the truth becomes a lie.”
“Aye, it was me,” he answered, avoiding her eyes, “and the Good Book agrees. Unfortunately, I have yet to find the passage that allows a man not to speak when the truth is best left unsaid.”
“What truth?”
“Rose, I’ll give you five pounds to question me no further.”
“All of five pounds? A tempting offer indeed. Does he love her?”
Uriah’s heart melted. “Oh, Rose, if only you could have seen the way he adores her and delights in her every word. She sings, Rose, like...like none I have ever heard, and he loves her the way I loved his mother.”
Rose laid her head on his shoulder. “Oh no, what have I done?”
“You?”
“Yes, me. I helped Hester trap him, I sent for Steven, I ordered her dress in John’s favorite color, I perfumed her hair, and I...”
“You did nothing wrong. John intended to marry Hester even before the ball. But Rose, he must not take Hester on holiday. In his fever, it is Polly he cries out for.”
Rose closed her eyes and bit her lip. “How dreadful.”
“Dreadful indeed.”
“Nevertheless, he married Hester and something must be done before he breaks her heart for lack of affection.”
“I agree, have you a suggestion?”
“Yes, I do. You will forbid him to hurt Hester.”
“Rose, if he listened to me, he wouldn’t have married her.”
“Then I’ll tell him.”
“Good, only don’t tell him I told you about Polly.”
“Don’t fret, I’ll get John to tell me. Now, I have another question.”
“I doubt I can survive more questions,” said Uriah.
“Was it you who paid Nora Barclay to seduce Dulane?”
“Someone paid her?”
“Handsomely. Was it you?”
Just then, John opened the door. “Someone paid Nora Barclay? Papa, you did not.” He walked to one of six tall bookcases and began reading the book titles.
“Of course not,” Uriah shot back, groaning as he struggled to get to his feet. “I’m going to bed. Winter tires a man, you know.”
“As do confessions,” John added, turning his attention back to the books.
“Good night, Uncle,” said Rose.
“Good night,” Uriah said. He gave Rose a knowing glance, and then quietly closed the door behind him.
Rose watched John for a moment, and then stood up. She put her book away, blew out the candle on the table next to her chair, and then crossed to the door. “John,” she started, keeping her back to him, “the least you can do is pretend to love your wife.” Then she opened the door and walked out. John closed his eyes and let his head softly fall forward until his forehead rested on the binding of a book.
BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning was uneventful. In the expensively furnished dining room, a grand candelabrum hung over the table and cabinets of the best quality lined the walls with silver candle holders and brass bowls set on top for decoration. Busy African servers offered hot cakes and slabs of ham on china plates, and filled crystal glasses with fresh milk, while the Carsons’ chatter turned to horses, then sewing, and back to horses.
Clifton quietly entered the room, waited for a lull in the conversation and then tapped John on the shoulder. “The carriage be ready, Massah.”
“What carriage?” Caleb asked.
“My wife and I are off to Richmond,” John answered.
The youngest twins clapped their hands excitedly. “Might we go?”
“
No,” John answered, taking his beaming wife’s hand. “We go alone.”
“Alone, but...” Uriah started.
“I am fine, Papa. Besides, it is only Richmond and Hester will see we come home if the fever hits.”
Begrudgingly, Uriah relented, “Very well, off you go then.”
“Good,” John said, helping Hester up. “Perhaps we’ll take a room at the inn.”
“Splendid,” Uriah muttered a little too sarcastically.
But Rose was happy. “Splendid indeed.”
KENTUCKY
Spring brought new livestock, a host of birds, blooming flowers, and plenty of outdoor play for children with too much energy. Normally, the oldest children helped in the fields, but this day, Polly sat on her favorite tree stump near the edge of the forest keeping an eye on the youngsters while her mother bathed behind the trees in the creek.
“When can I have her?” four-year-old Melba asked, leaning hard against her older sister’s leg.
“Soon,” Polly answered, pretending not to notice the toe of a man’s familiar shoe beneath a blooming Rhododendron nearby. Using the tip of a hunting knife, she carefully began to cut an eye in a corncob doll, “Sister, thou must have patience.”
“What’s patience?” Melba asked.
“At times, I cannot be sure,” Polly answered, cutting the last eye. She adjusted the knife, and then carved a nose and a mouth. “But most often, it means thee must wait for what thee wants.”
“Polly, is thee going to marry Mister Washburn?”
“No,” Polly answered, glancing at the shoe again, “not Mister Washburn nor Mister Shaw. And certainly not Mister Parks, even though he is a Quaker. The man needs a good scrubbing.”
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