No, Delia. Don’t go, Phin. Don’t go.
The water enfolded him, warm as a dream, and silenced the thunder of traitors.
“Not in there, Cordelia. Not today.”
Cordelia came to a halt on the sidewalk, unable to tear her gaze away from the shop specializing in books, old and new. “But, Mama—”
“Please, daughter.” Mama lifted a hand to her forehead and adjusted the angle of her parasol as their servant boy waited behind them. “Do I not indulge your unfashionable whims often enough? Do you not spend a shameful number of hours each day closeted up with your inks and papers and novels? You needn’t drag me in these places with you when we are supposed to be seeing what silks the runners have managed to bring us.”
Guilt pricked her as she noted the flush on her mother’s cheeks and the genuine distress on her face. Yet she needed the written word, needed it like Mama did her smelling salts. Especially on a day like today, when a second dream, identical to the first, wouldn’t leave her mind. Was a few hours’ escape such a terrible thing to ask? “But, Mama, I’ve read all the ones at home, and Daddy said I may buy a new one.”
“Not today.” Mama’s eyes snapped and crackled like blue flames. “I do declare, Ginny never asked me to take her such places, and Lacy wouldn’t either, if you didn’t drag her along wherever you go. Don’t you realize people are talking, Cordelia? Why, according to Ellen Young, the Dunns hope Phin does, in fact, not propose to you, as you’re so eccentric. She claimed Willametta Dunn said as much last week.”
Eccentric? People really thought her eccentric just because she enjoyed reading and telling stories? Cordelia’s throat went tight. Not everyone, surely. People always seemed so entertained by her tales, and she didn’t lack for friends—friends who often asked her to regale them with a yarn. And there, right across the street, was a band of officers staring at her. She wouldn’t lack for beaux either, if she encouraged any of them.
But then, the Dunns’ opinions meant more than those of any random passersby. If Mrs. Dunn had really said that, if it weren’t just the sour musings of a dour-faced Mrs. Young, then Mama was right to be concerned. She’d never considered that her reputation may be in danger because of her love of literature.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Her voice came in a hush, no doubt as low and pained to her mother’s ears as to her own. “I didn’t realize.”
Mama sighed and reached over to brush a gloved hand along Cordelia’s cheek. “What the Dunns think is not all that important—there are better men out there for you than Phin—but you must take care. In proper measure your oddities can be endearing, but you must remember to temper it with the grace and breeding we have worked so hard to establish in you, and not ruin it by too-frequent trips to bookstores.”
Better men than Phin? Never! Yet if anyone’s advice on what would keep a man’s attention could be trusted, it was Mama’s. Emeline Owens was still regarded as an outstanding beauty and had grown only more elegant with age, according to the portraits in their home. Daddy had been the catch of the generation, she knew—and Mama had captured his heart with enviable skill. Even foul-tempered Great-Grandmama Penelope had liked her, which was such a feat that stories were still told of it at family gatherings.
“I shall endeavor to do better, Mama.”
“That’s my girl.” Mama fastened on a smile and nodded them onward with a huff. “Oh, this wretched heat. It’s livable only to the slaves. How I wish this dreadful war hadn’t ruined our summer plans.”
“I’m sure Daddy would be happy to send us elsewhere.” She said it largely because she knew exactly what reaction she would get.
Mama didn’t disappoint her. She rolled back her narrow shoulders and lifted her sculpted chin, looking as though she could face down the enemy army singlehandedly. “Fiddle-faddle. It’s one thing to summer elsewhere when all is well and we are free to enjoy ourselves, but let it never be said that Emeline Owens flees from trial the moment it presents itself. No Yankee fleet will force me from my home, and if I must remain in it to be certain it remains mine, then so be it.”
Cordelia smiled, though her eyes went unfocused. Mama could make a perfect heroine with a bit of editing. She could see her now, standing on a . . . a windswept moor. Or perhaps a bluff overlooking the sea, an ancient castle behind her. Yes, that was it—a crumbling castle that had stood long and proud on the promontory, held for centuries by some noble family, of which she was the sole survivor. An enemy king had his ships just outside, and an army surrounded her on land too. But she would go out to face them down, her golden hair tossed by the wind, eyes glinting with a brave determination that would, obviously, capture the warrior-king’s heart.
“Cordelia!”
She snapped back to the present and saw that they had arrived at her mother’s favorite shop, and that Mama stood impatiently in the doorway while their boy held the door open. A flush heating her cheeks, Cordelia rushed past young Micah and decided to be grateful that another lecture wouldn’t be forthcoming inside the store.
When had she last come in here? Definitely not long ago, but she nearly gaped at how bare the shelves were. They’d felt no lack in matters of food, produce arriving from the plantations without hindrance, but the blockade was obviously interfering with the textiles and lace Mama so loved.
Mama muttered a choice phrase about the Yankees that included a word Cordelia had been forbidden to use under normal circumstances. Somehow she suspected she’d be forgiven its use in the same context.
Of course, she would have to deliver it correctly. Could she muster such total disdain in two little words? Convey such antipathy in the syllables of Yankee, and condemn them to the devil with such calm assurance? She would have to practice to get it right.
Except she wouldn’t dare. Perhaps she could compromise with Blasted Yankees. Though even that was a stronger word than she was wont to use.
Mama motioned her over and held up a bolt of pale pink silk under Cordelia’s chin. Then shook her head and replaced it. “Blue or green would suit you better, but they haven’t any. What are you planning to use as costuming for your tableaux vivants?”
“Lacy and I were going to have Salina help us remake some of Grandmother’s old gowns. Assuming it goes ahead, which it may not if Annaleigh won’t take part.”
“Oh, never mind her.” Mama waved a dismissive hand and sorted through the sparse selection of lace. “She’ll never allow herself to be excluded, so will fall in line. And your father promised he would see about having it at the Pulaski House.”
The thought of her tale being performed in the city’s most famous hotel was enough to send her into palpitations. “That would be . . . if we could, I . . . words fail me.”
Mama laughed, bright as a chime. “Now that, my dear, is a landmark event. Come.” She headed toward the front of the shop again. “There’s nothing here worthwhile. Let’s head over to Pulaski House now to remind ourselves of its layout, and we can have a lemonade while we’re there. I do hope the Morgans will have delivered Lacy home by the time we return.”
The sun beat down with frightful intensity when she stepped outside, so blinding that she flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard Micah opening her parasol for her, but it was movement from the other direction that brought her eyes open again, just as a collision sent her skirt swaying.
“Oh, pardon me!” The voice was deep and genteel, though when Cordelia looked up, she could scarcely make out anything about the man except that he wore a Confederate uniform. The sun cast all else in deep shadow. “My deepest apologies, miss. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He had a nice voice, even if it lacked that perfection that was Phin’s. Cordelia called up a smile and was grateful when Micah held out the parasol. “No harm done, sir. I shouldn’t have stopped as I did.”
The man angled a bit to take in Mama, and in so doing revealed a nicely chiseled face. He bowed to them both, then frowned as he regarded her mother. “Pardon me, ma’am,
for being so forward, but could it be that you are Emeline Owens?”
Mama arched her brows and allowed the barest of smiles, though Cordelia saw the sparkle in her eyes, the one that enjoyed being recognized by complete strangers. “I am, sir. May I ask how you know me?”
When he smiled, the officer revealed a row of perfect white teeth. “You bear a remarkable resemblance to my mother. I am your cousin—distantly, I grant you. Georgette’s son, Julius James. When we realized I would be posted in Savannah, she gave me your name and address, though I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to call formally. I only just arrived on Wednesday.”
Mama’s eyes lit so brightly that Cordelia got a tingle of warning up her spine. That particular glint only surfaced in her matron’s gaze with the emergence of matchmaking possibilities.
Oh, Lord above, let it be Lacy she thinks him perfect for.
“Julius, of course! How wonderful to see you again—why, it’s been so long I’m embarrassed to name the number of years. My darling Delia here was only a babe.”
His gaze meandered her way again, those white teeth still gleaming. Really, who had teeth that white? And a jaw so square? And she had no use for shoulders quite so broad.
Though he would make a fine model for the warrior-king in her mother’s castle story. She would have to make the heroine resemble Lacy more than Mama, now that she thought of it. But with their mother’s strength and wit.
And piercing glare.
Had she missed something? Cordelia cleared her throat and snapped open her fan. “I’m afraid I don’t recall any visits with your cousin Georgette, Mama. Though I do enjoy hearing her letters.”
Apparently she hadn’t missed anything vital, as Mama smiled and relaxed, then motioned toward the street. “Would you walk with us a ways, Julius? We were just going to treat ourselves to a lemonade at Pulaski House before heading home. You could join us, if you have the time.”
Surely he wouldn’t. An officer newly arrived in the city—he must have scores of tasks to attend to. Men to order around. Weapons to polish or clean or whatever it was one did with them so they might shoot at the Yankees. The blasted Yankees. The d—no, she couldn’t even think the word.
“I would be delighted.” His words were aimed at Mama, but his gaze was on Cordelia.
Drat. And her mother looked far too pleased. But never mind. She would remind Mama later that she had promised to wait for Phin and nudge the more eligible daughter forward. Lacy would fawn over Julius’s fine features and bat her lashes at him just so when he visited their house, which would in turn win his devotion.
Yes, a perfect plan after all.
He offered them each an elbow. Mama preened while she tucked her hand into the crook, but Cordelia managed only a polite smile.
“How fortunate that I came across you this way. I did dread the thought of showing up on your doorstep without invitation.”
Mama laughed. “Oh, family needs no invitation! Georgette’s son is always welcome in our home and at our table. You must dine with us the first evening you have free. Mr. Owens will be very glad to make the acquaintance of another fine officer who can feed him gossip on the war, and of course my daughters will be pleased to get to know another cousin. Isn’t that right, Cordelia?”
“Of course, Mama.” All the more so if that glint in her eyes would just go away.
Julius angled a smile Cordelia’s way that was nearly as warm as the July sun. “I’m certainly looking forward to making the acquaintance of my lovely cousins as well. You have three daughters, Mrs. Owens, do you not?”
“Indeed I do, Julius dear. Our Ginny just wed in May—a hurried event, as you can well imagine, before her Charlie signed up. She fled Savannah with her husband’s family last month. But Cordelia, Lacy, and I are determined to stay as long as Mr. Owens does.”
“Admirable, ma’am. Thus far my family feels secure on our plantation outside Atlanta, but I know my mother would be hard-pressed to leave her home as well.” His gaze wandered Cordelia’s way again. “Do you still find enough by way of amusement in the city, Cousin, now that most of your friends would have left?”
Amusement? A war was on, and he thought she cared only for her own amusement? Cordelia lifted her chin. “That is hardly my primary concern these days. Even so, those dearest to me have remained.” Both Lacy and Sassy would be taken with him, she knew. No doubt he would be taken with one of them as well, once he met them.
And wouldn’t that be a most delightful twist to the story? The warrior-king could have first met some other young lady nearby, perhaps a lady-in-waiting. He would be intrigued by her for a moment, but only until he met the lady of the castle, and then he would realize the other’s beauty held no candle to the noblewoman’s. Or perhaps it was the inner workings of the lady’s character that would win him. That strength, that spine of steel.
No doubt Julius would admire Lacy’s sweet disposition as much as her magnolia-fair skin. Unless, perhaps, he was the type to be more drawn to Sassy’s wit and clever tongue, which would be equally acceptable in Cordelia’s eyes, though Mama might protest. She tended to be possessive of possible matches for her daughters, and if Cordelia recalled correctly from cousin Georgette’s letters, that branch of Mama’s family owned the estate next to Belle Acres, the indigo plantation Mama had brought to the family as her dowry. Daddy would no doubt find that an alluring prospect. He went ever on about the need for more Southern families to build up empires that the North couldn’t crush.
“We shall look for you tomorrow, then.” The pleased finality in Mama’s tone pulled Cordelia back again. “You can ride with us to Mr. Dunn’s birthday ball. I’m afraid you’ll find that social gatherings are not what they once were, but we are all determined that the Yankees shan’t steal from us all of life’s pleasures.”
What? Mama had invited this stranger-cousin to Phin’s house? Granted, he wouldn’t be there, but still. It seemed wrong somehow.
Julius turned them toward Pulaski House when Mama indicated it. “It sounds delightful, ma’am. Are you sure it won’t be an imposition for me to come to this ball?”
“Oh, the Dunns are good friends who would welcome another member of our family. I’ll just send Willametta a note this afternoon.”
They entered through the grand doors of the hotel and headed toward the dining room, where a servant soon showed them to a table by the window and promised the lemonades would be out directly.
Cordelia waited while Julius pulled out a chair for Mama, then lifted her own hoops just enough to sit without making them spring up.
Julius sat last, dwarfing his chair. “I must say, ma’am, it has been a true pleasure to familiarize myself with your fine city these past two days. It’s a beautiful place.”
“Why, thank you, Julius dear,” Mama said as if she herself had designed each graceful brick building. “We are quite proud of it.”
Certainly Savannah was lovely—but it was home. Cordelia would enjoy seeing a more interesting place one of these days. Like London or Paris. The Scottish Highlands, with that castle on a bluff, perhaps. Italy, where the Renaissance masters had thrived. Oh, maybe Istanbul or Arabia.
Or, if she must remain closer to home, the islands in the Caribbean would be enough of a change, or out on the Western frontier. Daddy read them the most amazing stories from out there.
New Orleans. New York.
No, not New York. Even in her daydreams she wasn’t stupid. She’d find no happy welcome in the North.
At the warning cough from Mama, Cordelia refocused her gaze and pasted attentiveness on her face. Now, how could she give the impression that she was the boring and homely sister? She put a bit of a hunch into her shoulders—hopefully not so much that her mother would notice it, just enough to contribute to an overall picture—and lowered her chin.
Probably too subtle. Ah! She had just the thing, borrowed from a secondary character in her last story. Which was, in turn, borrowed from a friend who had fled the city a month
ago. Barely controlling a telltale smirk, she snapped open her fan, then snapped it shut again. Open, shut. Open, shut.
Mama blinked, long and meaningful. “Of course, Julius dear, both Cordelia and Lacy would be happy to save you a dance.”
Open. “Of course.” She put on Ginny’s smile, the one that was all demure sweetness, which didn’t suit Cordelia at all. “I’d be delighted.” Shut.
Julius’s smile had a nice charm to it, she had to admit. He and Lacy—or Sassy—would make a fetching couple. “I don’t know how I shall properly thank you for your hospitality, ma’am.”
Open, shut.
Mama smiled, though when Julius looked back to Cordelia, her smile was overshadowed by a glare so pointed she may as well have had a bayonet in hand.
Open—she lost her nerve and just fanned herself.
Small talk dominated the conversation as their lemonades were brought out, Mama and Julius updating each other on pertinent family news. Cordelia tried her best to keep from drawing the officer’s attention with any sudden movements, since it seemed to take him far too long to look away again once his attention was on her. It was a relief when they all stood and he bowed his farewell.
“May I claim a waltz with you, Cousin?”
She made her smile tight and, she hoped, ugly. “I’m afraid I’ve promised them all already.”
“Then I shall have to make do with a country dance.” With another bow on his part, they parted ways.
Tomorrow night she’d be sure to wear that pink gown that didn’t well complement her complexion and let Lacy borrow her pale green silk that she had been begging for.
“Oh my.” Mama put extra gusto into the swish of her fan as they started for home. “I hadn’t realized what a handsome man Julius had grown into. Isn’t he delightful? And Georgette married into one of the best families in Atlanta. Their cotton plantation does quite well, and they own at least a hundred slaves. Julius is quite the catch—I can’t imagine how the Atlanta ladies let him get away without one of them marrying him.”
Dreams of Savannah Page 6