The Lady and the Officer (23 page)

Eugenia slipped an arm around her waist. “You're so considerate, Maddy. That's why Mama hopes you'll stay in Richmond after the war is over.”

Madeline returned her hug. “Thank you, but my home is in Pennsylvania. I plan to return there someday.”

“What about Colonel Haywood? He hovers by your side each Friday evening.”

“I value his friendship, but he will not change the future.”

“But surely the missing letter was from Colonel Haywood.” Eugenia's brows knit together above the bridge of her nose.

Madeline weighed several responses within the span of a few seconds. James risked his life on a daily basis to lead his troops and serve his country. Although she wouldn't purposely mislead the colonel to gain information, she shouldn't burn her bridges too soon. “As I said, we won't discuss the letter, and let's not put the cart before the horse regarding Colonel Haywood.” Flashing a grin, she hurried out her bedroom door.

Downstairs, Esther and Micah were buzzing between kitchen and dining room like bees before the first frost, while Aunt Clarisa wrung her hands and paced the long center hall. Madeline entered the kitchen just as the elusive maid slipped through the back door, less than ten minutes before the first guests were to arrive. Kathleen's hands and face were wet from washing up at the pump, and her long red braid hung limply down her back.

Madeline stepped into the maid's path. “I would like to speak with you for a moment.”

“You'll have to excuse me, Miz Howard, but I need a fresh cap and apron, and then I need to get to the front door. Miz Duncan will skin me alive if I'm not there to greet folks bringing in bowls of food,” Kathleen said as she tried to step around her.

“Then you should have better planned your outing. This is important, and it will only take a minute of your time.” Madeline crossed her arms.

Kathleen's eyes flashed with an evil glint, but she quickly composed her bland face. “What do you want to ask me?”

“I had a letter in my drawer. It's no longer there. Have you seen it? Perhaps you misplaced it while you were cleaning?”

“I didn't take your letter. You probably dropped it in the garden. You're always walking outside all hours of the day or night.” She sniffed as though personally affronted by Madeline's behavior. “Or maybe you left it in the pocket of your day dress when it went to the laundry. It's probably dissolved in the bottom of the washtub.” She tried again to circumvent her tormentor, but Madeline grabbed the girl's wrist.

“I didn't take it from my room or leave it in any pocket. It was hidden, and now it's gone.”

Kathleen tugged her arm back. “Maybe a widow-woman shouldn't be getting love letters from Yankee generals. Maybe she should keep her mind on sewing and packing up food for the poor.”

“How would you know the letter came from a Yankee if you never saw it?”

Her voice faltered as she realized her mistake. “I-I saw the envelope when puttin' away your clothes, but I didn't take it. Don't be accusing me falsely, Miz Howard. I'll help you look once I'm done in the dining room, but let me pass now.” Her plea sounded desperate.

“All right, we'll search together when I return from caroling.” Pivoting on her heel, Madeline preceded the maid from the kitchen. She felt mildly sick to her stomach, but with her aunt and cousin waiting in the parlor, she plastered a pleasant expression on her face. When she reached her cousin's side, she gasped. In Madeline's estimation, the neckline of Eugenia's gown grazed the bounds of decency.

Is this a ball or a troupe of Christmas carolers spreading good cheer through the streets?

Aunt Clarisa noticed her reaction. “Kathleen, fetch a shawl for Miss Eugenia. I feel a chill in the house, and I don't want her to catch cold.”

Oblivious to her mother, Eugenia peeked between the curtains at the sound of the first carriage. “Oh, my. It's Major Penrod and Colonel Haywood. Joseph said he would bring the carriage so we could ride to the first church.” Her young face glowed with anticipation.

“I thought the whole point was to sing down the streets and lift people's spirits during this holy season,” Madeline said, looking over the girl's shoulder toward the hitching post.

“That's true, but Major Penrod's parents will be at the first stop.” Aunt Clarisa tucked a stray lock of hair into her bun. “A lady shouldn't become perspired or be spattered with mud if she wishes to make a good impression.”

Madeline nodded with agreement as she hurried into the foyer to greet their guests. As usual, Colonel Haywood was first across the threshold.

“Mrs. Howard, may I say you're looking lovely this evening.” He swept off his plumed hat and bowed low.

“I suppose you may, Colonel, since you have already uttered the words.” Stifling her laughter, Madeline offered a small curtsey. The colonel gazed at her as though stymied, while those within earshot chuckled. If she stayed in Richmond another ten years, she would never understand these Southerners.

T
HIRTEEN

 

S
UNDAY

C
larisa waited until she climbed into the coach and they were headed home after Mass. Then she broached the delicate topic she'd been stewing about with her husband. Eugenia had attended the Methodist Church with Major Penrod, and Madeline had accompanied Colonel Haywood to the Episcopal cathedral. With Micah topside driving the conveyance, John and Clarisa had a rare moment alone.

“I'm troubled,” she stated abruptly, having no time to dance around her dilemma.

“What about, my dear?” Her husband placed a gloved hand atop hers. “Christmas is mere days away. I'm sure Saint Nicholas hasn't forgotten sweet little Clarisa.”

“Oh, John, really.” She squeezed his fingers. “How like you to cheer me up, but I have no need of possessions I don't already own. I'm worried about the girls, both Eugenia and Madeline.”

“What about? They both seemed to be enjoying the season. We haven't had as many festive parties as in years gone by, but I thought the Jacob suppers have worked out splendidly. So much good cheer without families emptying their larders of the last crust of bread. Our ensemble has gained additional carolers each week.” Without warning, the carriage hit a pothole so deep they both slid toward the floor. “Great Scott! Is there no man left in town to patch these craters? We'll break an axle before spring if this keeps up!”

“Calm yourself, husband. We just came from Father Michael's inspiring words at Mass.” Clarisa patted his arm with affection. “And I agree the Advent events have been a blessing for Eugenia. Without the caroling and the New Year's Eve ball to look forward to, she would simply ‘expire from boredom.' Those were her exact words.” Clarisa drew back the carriage curtain to peer at the shuttered homes they passed. Many plantation owners who also owned houses in town apparently would be spending the holidays in the country.

“What do you mean by ‘ball'? I agreed to a dance, nothing more. Despite my daughter's fondness for excess, anything extravagant would be deemed tasteless by our friends.”

“Only by those who have become too poor to throw a ball themselves,” she muttered. Clarisa smoothed the creases from her best Sunday dress, noticing for the first time how frayed the cuffs were.

“Clarisa Endicott Duncan, I've never heard such words come from your lips.” John feigned an expression of indignation.

“I don't wish to be unkind, merely honest. Suddenly, everything that was fashionable before the war no longer is because of the infernal blockade. Eugenia isn't the only one who has grown weary of the somber mood this Christmas.”

“Parents have lost sons, dear heart. Perhaps having one daughter was a blessing in disguise.” John's mouth pulled into a frown as he slipped an arm around her. “Richmond isn't the only place feeling the pinch from the Yankee navy. Gunboats are blocking ports all along the seacoast.”

“President Davis instructed those at home to be strong and carry on while our boys fight valiantly. He and Varina will still throw their January ball. I do hope you'll allow us to attend.”

“You're that certain of an invitation?” He laughed with amusement.

“Yes, I am. Varina remarked about the good work the auxiliary at Saint Patrick's has been doing for the Cause.”

“This is what you wished to discuss with me—the social season of our once vibrant city?”

Grinning, she leaned back against the supple leather cushions. “Goodness, I sidetracked myself. No, I wished to discuss something to keep Eugenia and Madeline busy during the winter months. They have endured sewing for weeks with the ladies, but they both abhor it and frankly neither is very good. They only come to be of service.”

“I would say that's true of Madeline, but our daughter is worried someone will think poorly of her character if she were to stay away.”

“True enough, but Madeline would like to call on Chimborazo Hospital. She believes she can be useful there, and I think Eugenia should go with her. The experience will help our girl mature into a woman.”

“Have you lost your mind, dear wife?” John pivoted on the seat until he faced her.

“Not that I'm aware of.” She cocked her head to one side to look at her husband.

“Then perhaps you haven't read the newspaper accounts or listened to the conversations of the home guards before dinner. Those wards are teeming with disease. Soldiers are dying from typhus, pneumonia, and influenza more often than from their wounds. Chimborazo isn't a safe place for anyone, let alone two gently raised young ladies.”

“Madeline saved the life of Colonel Haywood up North.”

“I am well aware of that. He has mentioned it several times.” Loosening his collar with a finger, John growled, “This weather won't make up its mind what it wants to do. A person soon becomes uncomfortable no matter what they choose to wear.”

“So Madeline has been in military hospitals before.”

John released a weary sigh. “She spent one day in a temporary field hospital immediately after a battle, not days on end in a huge hospital filled with men languishing from a variety of dreadful ailments. I heard that the beds have lice, and vermin scuttle down the corridors at night.”

“Oh, John, please.” Clarisa pressed a handkerchief to her nose, mildly nauseated.

“Forgive me, my dear, but I don't know how else to impress upon you the unsuitability of Chimborazo for either Eugenia or Madeline.”

“Of course I respect your decision regarding our daughter,” Clarisa said as she gathered her cape in preparation to step out. “But I insist you be the one to tell Madeline. She has her heart set on this idea.” She quickly stepped onto the carriage block the moment Micah opened the door to prevent further discussion. Clarisa knew her husband, and she knew her niece. Better to let those two discuss the matter while she and Eugenia stood back out of harm's way.

Within the hour three members of the household sat down to Sunday dinner of creamed corn, stewed chicken, and some kind of mysterious wilted greens that tasted suspiciously like dandelions.

“Is Eugenia dining with the Penrods?” asked Madeline, opening her napkin.

“I imagine so, or she would have been home by now with tales of woe to share.” Clarisa rang the silver bell next to her place setting. “Let's say grace so we can begin. Would you honor us, my dear?”

Madeline uttered a simple, childlike prayer of thanksgiving and then reached for her water goblet. “The chicken smells delicious—a hint of rosemary, I believe.”

“Esther works magic with old hens well past their laying days. She adds a pinch of this and a spoonful of that until they taste divine.” Clarisa leaned back in her chair, confident fireworks were about to begin.

Madeline selected a chicken breast from the bowl Micah was offering her. “I will remember that when I have my own kitchen again. Have you had a chance to speak to Uncle John yet, ma'am?”

“Yes, I broached the subject on our way home from Mass.” Clarisa turned her focus on her husband with great animation.

Glancing from one to the other, Madeline scooped up a hearty portion of corn. “May I borrow the carriage to drive to the hospital while you're at Confederate headquarters, sir?”

John cleared his throat. “No, you may not. I'm sorry, but Richmond is filled with rabble off the plantations and deserters from both armies. The streets aren't safe.”

“Then perhaps Micah can accompany me, providing he's back in plenty of time to pick you up.” She leaned forward in her chair to gaze seriously at her uncle.

John flashed Clarisa a brief but pointed frown before turning back to Madeline. “I'm sorry, but having a chauffeur along won't help once you're inside Chimborazo. I have been there myself, and I can assure you that it's no place for a lady.” He ate a forkful of wilted greens, usually not one of his favorite side dishes. “Ah, Micah, give my compliments to Esther. Only she can make weeds taste this delicious.”