The Long Way Home (33 page)
‘‘Most certainly. And I am honored to hear you call me nephew.’’
Sitting back down, Jesselynn felt as if she were so light she could hover above the block of wood on which she sat. It seemed that if Wolf didn’t hold on to her, she might float away and go dancing with the breeze.
Mr. Lyons stood beside Agatha. ‘‘And now I get to speak.’’ He took Agatha’s left hand in his. ‘‘I have asked Miss Agatha to be my wife, and she has said yes. We thought perhaps we could be married at the fort when we go for supplies.’’
Jesselynn flashed an I-told-you-so kind of grin at her husband and rose to be the first to wish the couple well. Everyone crowded around, shaking hands, hugging, and laughing at one another’s teasing.
‘‘Where’s Ophelia?’’
Jesselynn looked around. When had Ophelia left their gathering?
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
- T
WO
Richmond, Virginia
‘‘Has Zachary said anything to you about our trip north?’’
Carrie Mae shook her head. ‘‘Not to me. I just know he is real unhappy.’’
Unhappy doesn’t begin to describe our brother
. But Louisa just nodded. No sense making Carrie Mae worry. It was unlikely they could do anything about Zachary, anyway, other than pray for him, of course. Why did that lately feel like such an exercise in futility?
Louisa cocked her head. ‘‘Think I hear the baby crying.’’ She rose before Carrie Mae could move. ‘‘I’ll get her.’’
Louisa admired the silk damask wall coverings and the walnut wainscoting as she made her way down the hall to the nursery. After the one cry Miriam had chosen to play with her fingers instead of setting up her ‘‘I’m hungry’’ howl.
‘‘You sweet thing.’’ Louisa lifted the baby from her crib and kissed the side of her smile. ‘‘Miriam, what will we do with you? You get prettier every day.’’ Laying her down on the padded dresser, she changed the baby’s diapers, dusting the little bottom with cornstarch and blowing on her rounded belly.
Miriam cooed and waved her fists, legs pumping like she was ready to run.
I wonder what my baby would look like if I—
She stopped the thought in shock.
Why, Louisa Highwood, you were going to add the major’s name. Whatever has come over you?
She could feel the heat rising up her neck.
‘‘You won’t tell anyone, will you, sugar?’’ She patted the baby’s hands together and tickled her toes. ‘‘Ah, baby dear, I hope and pray you never have to go though a war like we’ve been having. Lord, please, please bring peace. I want a baby like this, a husband, a home. I want to go home to Twin Oaks.’’
‘‘So do I.’’ Carrie Mae stood in the doorway. ‘‘Not fair sharin’ secrets with her. She can’t pass them on.’’
How long has she been standing there?
A moment of concern about what Carrie Mae might have heard flickered through Louisa’s mind, but she brushed it away. Cuddling Miriam to her cheek, she turned to her sister. ‘‘Who better to share with?’’
‘‘Me.’’ Carrie Mae leaned against the doorjamb. ‘‘I feel like I live all alone in this big old house.’’
‘‘You have a brand-new house, servants, and a husband, and—’’
‘‘A husband who is never home, a brother likewise, and a baby who, sweet as she is, doesn’t carry on much of a conversation yet.’’
Louisa studied her younger sister. Frown lines aged her forehead. While she’d regained her figure, her bounce had yet to return.
‘‘You know what, Carrie Mae?’’
Oh, Lord, here I go again. Give me the right words, please.
‘‘No, but I have a feeling I’m about to learn.’’ She crossed the room and pulled at the cord in the corner. ‘‘I’ll order tea so we have the sustenance to continue.’’
‘‘I’m not joking.’’
‘‘Neither am I. You take the baby. She’s going to want to eat any minute now.’’ Carrie Mae gave the maid who appeared at the door her instructions and motioned her sister down the hall. ‘‘You know, sometimes you sound so much like Jesselynn that I have to stop and remind myself you aren’t.’’
‘‘I think I’ll take that as a compliment.’’
‘‘And then I remember that she is clear off in the wilderness somewhere, and I prob’ly won’t see her again in this lifetime, and I get sorry for all the mean things I said to her.’’
‘‘She was just trying her best, like all the rest of us.’’
If only our best were good enough
.
When they were settled back in the parlor, with tea poured and Miriam making her little pig noises at her mother’s breast, Louisa stirred sugar into her tea with a silver spoon, wondering where such things came from anymore. She laid the spoon on the china saucer and, propping her elbows on her knees in a decidedly unladylike manner, sipped from her cup and studied her sister.
Might as well say what she was thinking.
‘‘Carrie Mae, I reckon your trouble is this. You have entirely too much time on your hands.’’
‘‘Why, Louisa Marie Highwood, however can you say that? You have no idea how much time this baby takes. I’m just an old milk cow far as she’s concerned, and running a house like this—you know how hard Mama worked at Twin Oaks.’’
Louisa sighed. ‘‘I know Mama worked hard. She ran an entire plantation along with the big house and made sure close to fifty people had food in their bellies and clothes on their backs.’’
‘‘Well, I have to entertain too, you know. Jefferson is always bringing home friends for supper, sometimes without even having the grace to let me know beforehand.’’
‘‘And how often have you cooked supper for these guests or cleaned up afterward?’’
‘‘My word, why would I do that? We have servants—and let me remind you they are not slaves—to do those things. Jefferson says we are doing our part giving these people a place to work, and’’—her voice rose—‘‘I think you are just horrid to talk to me like this.’’
‘‘You could knit, sew uniforms, and roll bandages like the rest of us.’’ Louisa cringed inside at the tone of her own voice.
Whatever happened to ‘‘A soft answer turneth away wrath’’?
‘‘Is that all? Why, you silly, I sent an entire box of rolled bandages over to the hospital just yesterday.’’
And who did the rolling?
But Louisa had a notion that those who worked in the Steadly home did the rolling in order to make their mistress look good and thus keep their positions.
She’d not taken time to count the number of personal maids Carrie Mae had employed in the time since she and Jefferson had been married.
Louisa sighed. ‘‘I’m sorry, dear sister. You just look unhappy, and I hoped to help that sad look go away.’’
Carrie Mae put the baby to her shoulder and patted her back. A big burp made both women smile.
‘‘There now, sweet thing. That’s what we think of your mean old auntie’s ideas. We work real hard for the cause, don’t we?’’ In spite of the sugar-sweet words, the glare Carrie Mae sent around her daughter’s head could have ignited coal.
‘‘I’m sorry, Carrie Mae, I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.’’ But Louisa knew that was an untruth. She did know what had gotten into her. She was sick of the war, sick of Zachary acting like he was, sick of being so far from home. When would it ever end?
‘‘You needn’t look so sad yourself.’’ Carrie Mae handed Louisa the baby. ‘‘Look at that smile and tell me anything in this whole wide world is more precious than that.’’
Louisa cupped the baby with her hands and lower arms, elbows propped on her knees. Miriam smiled, her full, rounded mouth open, her eyes intent on her auntie’s. Rosy lips thinned as she struggled to make a sound, not a scream, but an answer to Louisa’s gentle baby murmurings.
‘‘That’s right now. You can talk with me, of course you can.’’ She nodded slowly, smiling and cooing back.
‘‘You two certainly can carry on some kind of conversation. Why, I’d think you knew exactly what she was sayin’.’’
‘‘She’s saying ‘I love you, Auntie Louisa.’ Can there be any doubt of that?’’
Carrie Mae sat down on the horsehair sofa beside her sister and, leaning her chin on Louisa’s shoulder, watched her baby’s efforts. ‘‘Isn’t she the smartest, most beautiful baby you ever did see? Why, Mama would bust her buttons over this baby, and can you think what Lucinda would say?’’
‘‘I reckon Daddy would have been carrying her out to the barn already to make sure she loves the horses from the beginning.’’
‘‘Carrying, my right foot! He’d have had her up in the saddle with him.’’ Carrie Mae traced the outline of her daughter’s cheek with a gentle fingertip. ‘‘Sometimes I want to go home and see Mama and Daddy again so bad that I near to run out that door and call for the carriage.’’
‘‘I know.’’ Louisa sniffed back the tears. No matter that their parents had gone ahead to heaven, when she thought of home, they were still there. The big house and all the barns, the slaves’ quarters, the trees, the rose garden, all were still there.
‘‘Miss Carrie Mae, message from Mr. Jefferson.’’ The maid paused in the doorway, waiting to be acknowledged.
‘‘Thank you.’’ Carrie Mae took the envelope, and with a slight shrug to her sister, slit it open.
‘‘Oh, bother.’’ She heaved a sigh. ‘‘Is he waitin’ for an answer?’’
‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’
‘‘Tell him I’ll be ready.’’ Carrie Mae turned to Louisa. ‘‘Jefferson says I have to accompany him to a soirée tonight. President Davis and General Lee will be the guests of honor.’’ She tapped the envelope on the edge of her finger. ‘‘How would you like to come with us?’’
Louisa shook her head. ‘‘No, I wasn’t invited. And besides, I have nothing to wear to something like that. I’ll just go on home and—’’
‘‘And you’ll do nothing of the kind.’’ Carrie Mae studied her sister. ‘‘You’ve lost so much weight we might have to take in one of my dresses. I’ll have Lettie do your hair. She is the best with a hot iron and pins. Come on, we haven’t played dress-up in years.’’
Louisa looked down at the baby now blinking her eyes to stay awake.
‘‘I’d much rather stay here and take care of Miriam. She and I can have a fine time.’’
‘‘No, we’ll put her down to sleep, and you and I are going to get ready.’’
‘‘But Aunt Sylvania is expecting me.’’ Louisa now had a pretty good idea what a drowning victim felt like. Getting enough air in the face of Carrie Mae’s whirlwind tactics took extra doing.
‘‘I’ll send her a note.’’ Carrie Mae picked up the baby. ‘‘Besides, maybe you’ll meet the man of your dreams there.’’
I think maybe I’ve already met the man of my dreams, but no one will ever know that
.
‘‘Is that really me?’’ Louisa stared at the figure in the fulllength mirror.
‘‘It most surely is. I knew there was a beauty hiding under that mouse look of yours. I know you do good works, but you don’t always have to look so . . . so . . .’’ Carrie Mae made a face.
‘‘Should I take that as a compliment?’’ Louisa touched one of the springy curls that lay over her shoulder. Lettie had gathered the curls up in back with diamanté clips and waved the hair on top of her head. The clips caught the light every time Louisa moved her head. She touched the strands of gold and sapphires around her slender neck and smoothed down the sides of the blue silk overskirt that flared from her narrow waist and was gathered into scallops by small nosegays of single roses. The pleated underskirt of cream lace was threaded by matching narrow ribbon.
‘‘Here.’’ Carrie Mae handed her a silk fan. She stepped back and studied her sister. ‘‘You look lovely.’’
‘‘So do you.’’ Louisa turned from her image. ‘‘Wouldn’t Daddy be proud of his girls?’’
‘‘The cab is here, ma’am.’’
‘‘Do you need a shawl?’’ Carrie Mae held out a diaphanous drape.
‘‘Maybe I should.’’ Louisa looked again at the amount of flesh showing above the low cut of the bodice.
Carrie Mae draped the shawl around her sister’s shoulders, stood for Lettie to do the same for her, and the two of them sailed out the door.
Louisa swallowed the butterflies that threatened to take wing. What on earth was she doing all dressed up like this when she should be home taking care of her boys? What if something happened to Aunt Sylvania? What if— ‘
‘Now you just quit your worryin’ and have a good time. You deserve a good time for a change. You’ve been workin’ like a servant ever since we left home. And before then.’’
But Louisa knew better—it was Jesselynn who had worked so hard to keep Twin Oaks going. While she and Carrie Mae could be excused because they were young, she knew they could have been more help. Should have been more help.
The driver halted the cab under the portico of the Ambergine Mansion, and a doorman stepped forward to assist the two women. Louisa shook out her skirt, reminded herself to quit chewing on her lower lip and, head held high, followed her sister through the doors.
Oh, Lord, here we go. Are you sure this is where I belong?
Light danced among the crystals on the chandeliers as they waited in the receiving line. Within moments Jefferson Steadly joined them, kissing his wife on the cheek and smiling at Louisa.
‘‘What a pleasure to have two such beautiful women to introduce around this evening. I’m glad you could join us, sister Louisa.’’ He bowed over her hand and led the two sisters forward.
‘‘Is that who I think it is?’’ Louisa tried to hang back.
‘‘Of course.’’ Jefferson stepped forward again. ‘‘President Davis, may I introduce you to my sister-in-law, Miss Louisa Highwood?’’
‘‘Why, most certainly. I am delighted.’’ Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederate States of America, took Louisa’s hand and bowed, his neatly trimmed beard brushing the back of her hand.
‘‘I-I’m honored, Mr. President.’’ Louisa tried swallowing, but her words still sounded breathless.
‘‘No, I am the one honored. I have heard tales of a lovely young woman who, with her brother, dons various disguises and ventures north to bring back medical supplies for our suffering men. Someone even told me of a nefarious raccoon. . . .’’
Louisa couldn’t contain the smile. ‘‘The poor creature who gave its life to assist us was a possum, sir.’’
