Glimmers of Change (19 page)

“So just what am I doing at a dance for staunch Confederate women who resent my efforts to help the blacks?” she asked with amusement.

Jeremy laughed. “I apologize that my surprise was so obvious.” He indicated the spot next to her on the couch. “May I join you?”

“Certainly,” Marietta replied. She lowered her voice a little. “Mrs. Manson, our hostess for the night, is rather appalled at my being a teacher, but she and my mother were very close friends before my mother moved to the North and married an abolitionist.” She laughed with delight at the look on Jeremy’s face. “Mrs. Manson may be appalled at what I do, but southern hospitality demanded I be invited. In truth, she is a wonderful woman. We don’t agree on politics, and we don’t agree on what should be done with the freed slaves, but she has many redeeming qualities.”

“So you’re as open-minded as you are beautiful,” Jeremy murmured, flushing when he realized he had spoken the words out loud. Since he couldn’t take them back and he saw no offense in her eyes, he decided to press his luck. “Would you like to dance?”

“I would love to,” Marietta replied with a bright smile. “I thought I might sit here all night watching. Every other male in the room seems to know what I do. They have been unfailingly polite but very distant.”

Jeremy smiled. “I’m glad. I shouldn’t have to worry about competition.”

Marietta laughed and moved into the arms he held out to her just as another waltz began.

Jeremy breathed in her scent as they danced. The last five years had left him no time for relationships. Working, caring for his father, and starting the factory had taken up every spare moment. In truth, he had not met a single woman who attracted him or who could make him consider veering from his course of hard work. He suddenly knew he was holding that woman in his arms.

Matthew turned his back on the dancers as he talked to a fellow journalist from the
Richmond
Examiner
, a weekly newspaper that rankled him on a regular basis, but also never failed to offer amusement. He needed the distraction tonight. When Carrie had floated down the stairs tonight in her exquisite gown, all he could do to hide the expression in his eyes was busy himself adding wood to the fire. As much as he relished their easy friendship, at times it was nothing short of agony to hide his true feelings. There were times he cursed his love for her, but mostly he was just thankful she was still a part of his life. His friendship with Robert was too strong for there to be resentment.

“How is your book coming?” Paul Sawyers asked.

Matthew pulled his thoughts back. It was easier now that he couldn’t see Carrie smiling into Robert’s eyes as they danced. “It’s going well,” he replied. “I just returned today from Washington, DC. It’s still far from being finished, but writing it is a series of continual revelations as I explore life in the South now that the war is over.”

Paul nodded. “Do you know Edward Pollard?”

“One of the
Examiner
editors?” Matthew asked. “I don’t know him well, but we met a time or two during the war.”

“He’s just finished a book,” Paul revealed. “
The Lost Cause: A New Southern History of the War of the Confederates
.”

Matthew raised his eyebrows. “Really? I’ve not read it yet.”

“It will be released next month,” Paul revealed, watching Matthew carefully. “He sets the record straight on what really happened with the war.”

Matthew smiled. “Is that right?” He decided to play along since he was a guest in a staunchly southern home. “I look forward to reading it.” He almost laughed at Paul’s disappointed expression. Obviously, he expected much more of a reaction. The brief flash of amusement faded quickly, however. The memory of President Johnson’s speech just days before was sobering. There was nothing funny about what was happening in the country so soon after the end of four years of death and destruction. Having read Pollard’s editorials, he could well imagine what his book contained.

Paul looked at him sharply. “You won’t like it,” he said bluntly.

“Probably not,” Matthew agreed easily. He had found he agreed with little printed on the pages of the
Richmond
Examiner
. He watched over Paul’s shoulder as Jeremy carried lemonade to an attractive woman whom he had just led from the dance floor. He was much more curious about her identity than he was about what drivel Edward Pollard had published.

“He sets things straight on the real reason the war happened,” Paul asserted boldly.

Matthew turned his eyes back. “That right?”

Paul nodded. “He makes it clear that the cause of the war was secession, not slavery.”

Matthew felt a surge of anger. “Really?” he replied, his voice deliberately calm.

Paul seemed satisfied he had his attention. “Yes. He does a masterful job in communicating that squabbles over secession and the primacy of states’ rights were the real cause of the war. If it had not been for Northern abolitionists who overdramatized the slavery issue, it surely would have died on its own accord, as Pollard reveals the truth that the vast majority of slaves were happy on the plantations and had no desire to leave.”

Matthew stared at him. He reminded himself he was a guest in a southern home, but it was impossible to not respond. “Does Pollard mention that it was actually the dispute over slavery that caused secession?” he asked sharply. “Does he reveal that most of the southern politicians who led the way in secession believed slavery was the foundation and cornerstone of the Confederacy, and that the South couldn’t exist without it?”

Paul opened his mouth to protest, but Matthew wasn’t done. President Johnson’s veto of the Freedmen’s Bureau bill, and the growing strength of the Black Codes, wiped away any feelings of constraint. “Does he reveal how many slaves escaped long before the war? Does he talk about the vast number who used the Underground Railroad to flee their
happy lives
on the plantation?” he asked sarcastically. “Does Pollard’s entire book attempt to rewrite history to satisfy his belief of what
should
have happened?”

Matthew became aware other people were listening. Angry eyes glittered at him as he finished speaking. “Never mind,” he said shortly. “I’m all too familiar with journalists and writers who use words to create whatever reality they want to.” He held up his hand as Paul, his eyes glittering with angry satisfaction, attempted to say something. “I’m sorry to bring discord into tonight’s party, but I find I have had my fill of fiction disguised as journalism,” he said grimly. Matthew looked down as he felt a warm hand on his arm.

“And I find I have worn out my husband,” Abby said lightly. “Can I talk you into dancing with an old woman while he recovers?”

Matthew managed a smile, recognizing her offer to remove him from the conversation. He grasped it eagerly. “I would be delighted, Mrs. Cromwell.” He turned back to Paul. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said cordially, only his eyes still flashing anger.

He led Abby onto the floor. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Abby smiled up at him. “I have no idea what you were talking about, but since I know Paul Sawyers works for the
Richmond
Examiner
, I was quite sure the conversation would do nothing but make you angry. I read the
Examiner
occasionally just to see what nonsense they are publishing now. I would like to ignore it, but I find knowledge, no matter how distasteful it is, is better than ignorance.”

Matthew wanted to lose himself in the music, but the anger was still burning too hot. “You’ve heard of Edward Pollard’s new book?”

“
The Lost Cause: A New Southern History of the War of the Confederates
. Yes, I’ve heard about it,” Abby replied calmly, only her eyes showing her disgust. “It hasn’t come out yet, but I’ve heard conversations around it.”

“They’re attempting to rewrite history,” Matthew said grimly.

“Yes. Things didn’t end well for the South. They are attempting to save face.”

“With lies.”

“Yes, with lies,” Abby agreed. “But there is just enough truth to confuse people and make them believe what he has written.”

Matthew ground his teeth. “It’s wrong.” He stared down at Abby. “How can you remain so calm?”

“Who says I am?” Abby smiled gently. “Right now your emotions are strong enough for both of us. I can put a cap on mine to make sure we don’t get thrown out on the streets.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’m not done dancing.”

Matthew laughed and spun Abby in a tight circle before he dipped her almost to the floor. “Is this better?” he teased.

“Much!”

Abby’s bright laughter erased the remnants of Matthew’s anger. Tonight was a night for dancing.

When the song ended, Abby glanced over at the drink table. “Who is the lovely woman Jeremy is with?”

Matthew shook his head. “I was going to ask you. You usually know everything.” He frowned playfully. “You disappoint me, Mrs. Cromwell. Is marriage keeping you too occupied?”

Abby smiled demurely. “It
is
rather splendid,” she admitted, her eyes locked on Jeremy. “Let’s go find out,” she said suddenly, steering Matthew toward the corner.

Jeremy smiled when he saw Abby and Matthew headed their way. He had wondered how long it would take before curiosity got the best of his sister-in-law. Carrie was far too absorbed in dancing with Robert to notice anything else, or she would have already approached him.

“Hello, Abby. Matthew. I’d like you to meet Marietta Anderson.”

“A pleasure,” Abby said warmly. Matthew echoed her greeting. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around town, Miss Anderson.”

“Probably not,” Marietta agreed. “I keep rather busy teaching your employees when they’re not working.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “You’re a teacher from the Missionary Society!” she exclaimed. “That’s wonderful.”

“So says the only other Yankee woman in the room,” Marietta said with wry amusement.

Abby laughed with delight. “We are definitely the minority here tonight, which only makes us more special.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Marietta replied. Her expression grew more serious. “It is quite an honor to meet you, Mrs. Cromwell. I tried to meet you in Philadelphia but never had the opportunity.”

“You’re from Philadelphia?” Abby asked. “I’m so sorry we didn’t meet before.”

Jeremy listened closely, wanting to learn as much about Marietta as he could.

“I imagine you stayed quite busy running all your factories and coordinating activities for both abolitionism and women’s rights.” Marietta laughed at Abby’s expression. “I never met you, but you have been a mentor to me for several years.”

Abby grasped her hand warmly. “Then I’m so glad to finally have a chance to get to know you.” She smiled over at Jeremy. “I see you have met my brother-in-law.”

“Who is relieved to find Marietta is a fan of yours, Abby,” Jeremy replied. “I’ll take any help I can get.”

“Help?” Marietta asked.

“Well, yes,” Jeremy said easily, his blue eyes filled with warm humor under his thick thatch of blond hair. “Since I was just going to ask you if I could see you again, it’s good to know you approve of my family.”

Marietta laughed heartily. “Anyone who dances like you doesn’t need family approval,” she assured him.

“Then that is a yes?” Jeremy pressed.

Marietta smiled demurely, though her eyes flashed with amusement. “That’s a yes, Mr. Anthony.” She turned to Matthew when the music started again. “Jeremy mentioned wanting to dance with Mrs. Cromwell. Can I convince you to dance?”

“No convincing needed,” Matthew assured her. “How else will I get to press you for information?”

“Ah,” Marietta eyed him. “You must be the journalist Jeremy said was with him tonight.”

“Guilty as charged,” Matthew said as he swept her onto the dance floor.

Abby smiled up at Jeremy. “She’s lovely.”

Jeremy watched her dance away. “Very.”

Abby laughed. “You look quite smitten, my boy.”

Jeremy continued to watch Marietta for a long moment and then looked back at Abby, his smile rather puzzled. “I do believe I am,” he murmured.