The Lady and the Officer (30 page)

Paling, Eugenia folded her hands in her lap. “Very well, Mama. I prefer we not involve Papa in this matter.” She turned toward Madeline. “But that doesn't mean my cousin can't bring us up to date with her news.”

Even Esther stopped washing the dishes to listen.

Madeline concentrated on her soup until she'd swabbed the sides of her bowl with her bread crust. “There's not much to tell really. He has no wife, but I made too much of a brief encounter in Pennsylvania. I blew things out of proportion in my mind. A Union general helped me during the difficult days following the July battle. Then he saved my life when
my house was burning down around me and provided shelter when I had nowhere else to go.” She paused in her tale to reach for another slice of bread. “Like a character in Genie's novels, I saw love where none existed, misinterpreting simple kindness for commitment and devotion.”

Amazing how the lies rolled off her tongue once she started the ball rolling.

“Oh, you poor dear.” Eugenia hugged her again. “At least there was no other woman to rub salt into your wounds.”

Esther hovered behind her chair. “Eat more soup, ma'am. Food will make you feel better.”

“Women often fall victim to their own imaginations. You're not the first, dear niece, and you won't be the last.” Aunt Clarisa's sympathetic words soothed her like a warm quilt.

“Was it terribly humiliating for you?” Eugenia scooted her chair closer. “Was there a great scene in a restaurant or a hotel lobby?”

“That's enough, young lady,” said Aunt Clarisa sternly. “Go to bed. And I forbid you from deviling Madeline with your impertinent nonsense.”

“Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, Maddy. I truly feel awful about your mortification. That Yankee was just another snake in the grass—” The girl stopped talking and swiftly left the room as her mother's expression went from stern to furious.

“I feel foolish, but not mortified. Better to find out now that my affections weren't returned than to pine for the rest of the war. I'm grateful you're not angry with me.” Madeline ate a few more spoonfuls and then dug the remaining greenbacks from her purse. “I still have most of your traveling money. The general insisted on paying for my one night's lodging. The second night I dozed fitfully in the train depot.”

Aunt Clarisa let the bills remain where Madeline laid them. “I'm not angry with you, my dear. Although it has been a while, I do remember being young and impetuous once.” A smile removed years from her aunt's face. “But I fear that your reentry into Richmond may not be easy.” She and Esther exchanged a glance as the cook stashed the bills in a canister labeled “Oats.”

“Better have another slice of bread, Miz Howard.” The cook pushed the plate closer.

“I was only gone two days. I doubt my absence in church yesterday would have caused much of a stir. No one knew where I was headed.”

Aunt Clarisa shook her head at that and then sighed. Slowly she said, “I'm afraid that isn't exactly true. On Saturday Eugenia prattled on to Kathleen a sensational story of romance with the enemy and stealing away to a secret rendezvous. I didn't know about it in time to stop her.”

Madeline swallowed. “I doubt the opinion of one maid will make much difference in my future.” Though her words were brave, she spoke them without an ounce of real conviction.

“Our maid gossiped to the neighbor's maid, who then repeated the story until every household on the street knew your business. Unfortunately, each subsequent retelling added another bit of spice until you were practically courting the entire Army of the Potomac.”

“That Kathleen is a thorn in this family's foot. I said it before and I'll say it again,” Esther muttered angrily as she hung two iron pots on their ceiling hooks with a clang.

The mistress of the house ignored her opinion. “I'm hoping the ladies of your acquaintance will dismiss the gossip as baseless.”

Madeline pushed herself up from the table and swayed a little. “Thank you for the meal, Aunt, but if you'll excuse me, I-I need to bathe and retire. I can barely hold open my eyes.”

“Off with you then. Kathleen should have drawn your tub by now. Sleep late in the morning. I'll send your breakfast up on a tray.” Her aunt started for the door and hesitated. “Allow me to break the news of your return to your uncle. Then you can see him at dinner. Tomorrow afternoon, plan to accompany Eugenia and me on our round of calls. You may as well nip the story in the bud before the rumor mill spreads it any further.” With that she left the kitchen, heading for the main staircase.

Madeline climbed the back steps to her room. Indeed, a tub of water awaited her in the bathing chamber, along with two fresh towels. Yet heating the water first hadn't occurred to the troublesome maid. Lowering herself into the tub, Madeline scrubbed her skin and washed her hair quickly before she turned into an icicle. At least under the heavy quilt, she fell asleep within minutes. But phantoms with flashing angry eyes and rabid, jeering crowds tormented her dreams.

With the light of day, her anxieties seemed foolish. Madeline enjoyed a lunch of ham croquettes with the Duncan women, relishing the normal, everyday routine. When Aunt Clarisa complained of a headache, Madeline and Eugenia set off down the street to pay their first of three anticipated visits. The Emersons, three doors to the east on Forsythia, curtailed Madeline's hopes for a smooth reentry into Richmond life. The butler greeted them at the door and ushered them into the foyer. He smiled graciously at Eugenia. “Mrs. and Miss Emerson will receive you in the morning room, Miss Duncan, but I'm afraid Mrs. Howard may only leave her calling card.” He formally held out a silver tray toward Madeline.

“There must be some mistake, Amos. Mrs. Howard is my cousin and Miss Justine is my dearest friend. Kindly show us both to the ladies at once.” Eugenia utilized her most imperious tone of voice.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Duncan, but Madame Emerson was quite specific this morning. Mrs. Madeline Howard is no longer to be received in this house. I'm very sorry.” He bowed deeply from the waist.

Eugenia's healthy glow faded. “In that case I shan't stay for tea either. You may present both cards with our sincere regrets.” She dug in her bag and dropped her elegantly engraved card on the salver. “Good day to you, Amos.”

“Good day to you, Miss Duncan. Mrs. Howard.”

Madeline followed her young cousin out the door, feeling diminished physically as well as socially. The unfortunate performance was repeated at the second house as well. The dialogue was so eerily similar, Madeline suspected the ladies had discussed and rehearsed their reactions after church on Sunday.

What a poor use of time on the Sabbath.

However, when she reflected upon her schemes to continue deceiving the Duncans, Madeline immediately stopped judging the neighborhood ladies for
their
shortcomings. This treatment was what she rightly deserved.

Kathleen nervously glanced over her shoulder for the third time. She had told Esther she was headed to the privy. No one would miss her for at least ten minutes. Still, Mr. Duncan wouldn't look kindly on her meeting a strange man, especially a newspaper man in the back alley at night.

At last she heard a rustle of dead leaves and a snap of a twig, and then a short, rotund man stepped out of the shadows. “Miss O'Toole?”

“Yeah, I'm Kathleen O'Toole. You Jonas Weems?”

He curled his upper lip. “I am Mr. Weems of the
Richmond Times Dispatch
. You sent word that you wished to speak with me in private?” He moved closer, allowing her to smell the cigar smoke that clung to his heavy wool coat.

“The maid at Dr. Emerson's house said you pay good money for information. How much you pay? I don't take no Confederate script. I want gold or greenbacks so it be good anywhere.” Kathleen glanced at the looming mansion behind her. The last candle in an upstairs window flickered out.

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves, miss. I pay money for
useful
information. If all you have is the usual servant gossip, I'll thank you not to waste my time.” Weems took a step back.

“I got me a letter sent to Miz Howard. She's that Yankee who got Miz Duncan wrapped round her finger.” Kathleen began withdrawing the envelope from her sleeve, but then she hesitated. “You willing to give gold for this?”

“If it proves worthy of the time it took to come to you in the middle of the night, then yes. Show me what you have or be gone with you. I have no time for—”

Kathleen cut him off by thrusting it toward his chest. “This here's a love letter from a Yankee general name Downing to that troublesome Miz Howard. If you wanna keep it, you gotta pay me. I need to look out for myself. If the Duncans keep trying to impress their friends, their help ain't gonna get enough to eat. I ain't stickin' around with a half-empty belly.”

Frowning, Weems carried the letter deep into the alley and struck a match. He had to light three in succession before he could finish reading. Then he stuffed the wrinkled piece of paper in the envelope and handed
it back to her. “All this proves is that Madeline Howard has a Yankee lover, and everyone already knows that. Or they will soon, thanks to the rumor mill in this town. I'll pay nothing for old news.” Weems pulled on his waxed goatee. “But I am interested in Mrs. Howard. I believe her to be a jezebel, a courtesan of the worst kind. Unfortunately, she still has powerful friends who wear Confederate uniforms as well as Yankee blue.”

“You're talkin' 'bout Colonel Haywood,” hissed Kathleen. “That woman's playing him for a fool.”

“I agree, but I suggest you not voice that opinion within Haywood's earshot. He'll make your life more miserable than it already is,” Weems said curtly, staring down his hooked nose at her clothing.

Why is this pompous man speaking to me like this?
“I'm tryin' to help you, Mr. Weems, and help the Cause at the same time. I saw Miz Howard sneak outta the house to meet another soldier in the garden right under the Duncans' nose.”

“A Union soldier, here in Richmond?”

“No, he was one of us. His last name was Lewis. Came to one of them fancy parties the Duncans love to throw.”

Even in the thin light, Kathleen saw his face contort with rage. “Major Lewis, formerly of Colonel Haywood's staff?”

“Yeah, that was him. He was a friend of Major Penrod—Miss Eugenia's beau.”

“That turncoat disappeared on his way to the battlefront, taking several documents about artillery and ordnance shipments from New Orleans with him. The home guard plans to hang that scoundrel if he ever sets foot in Virginia again.”

“What do you suppose Miz Howard wanted with him?” Kathleen rocked back on her heels.

“What, indeed, but I have only your word they met in the garden. Mrs. Howard could say he was one of her many paramours.”

“Her
what
?”

“Never mind, Miss O'Toole. Did anyone else in the family witness her with this known traitor to the Confederacy?”

“Not that I know of. I saw the butler waiting for her by the steps. I 'spose he knew who that jezebel was meetin'.” Speaking such a word aloud sent a thrill of excitement up Kathleen's spine.

“Is the Duncan butler a slave?”

“Not no more. He's a free man.”

Weems shook his head. “I would need more than the word of a black man and a maid who hasn't been in this country for long. Especially if I'm to pay greenbacks or gold coin.”

Kathleen was ready to stomp inside the house. She'd had enough of his insults and looking down his crooked nose at her. But the mention of money kept her tongue in her head. “How much? A gal gotta take care of herself. This country ain't no different than my old one in that regard.”

“I'll pay you fifty dollars, but you must catch Mrs. Howard in the act of snooping through Mr. Duncan's important papers with someone else to corroborate… back up your story. A witness who's not a slave or a former slave. Another maid at the very least. Or get your hands on her letters to Yankee officers. I would wager my eyeteeth she's saying plenty more than sweet words of love.”