Phil Sheridan took the floor. "Charles Redmond has served this country with distinction for many years." Sheridan walked over to stand beside Charlie. He indicated one of the medals on his officer’s chest. "Indeed. He won this for his heroic action at the Battle of Buena Vista during the Mexican conflict." Sheridan faced Charlie. "You were only sixteen at the time, I believe, and a new recruit when you stepped up after your sergeant and lieutenant were both killed and led your men to safety." He turned back to the rest of the guests. "You may not be aware of this, but Charlie served under Captain Lee at Buena Vista. As a matter of fact, he attended West Point on Lee’s recommendation." Glancing back to Charlie, he asked, "I believe you also served with Lee at Fort Pulaski, in Georgia, did you not?"
"Yes. He was Colonel Lee at the time, and I must say, I learned a great deal from him. I believe he has long been one of my greatest role models. When I had to choose between nation and state, I went to him for advice. He told me to follow my conscience and my faith, as he himself would do."
"Well, Charlie, I wish that Robert had chosen the same way you did, but I honor him for his choice." He turned back to the assembled guests. "I believe General Redmond has long since earned his stars. So tonight, let us celebrate our host and his generosity and courage, as is appropriate in this season of remembering God’s most precious gifts."
Charlie was appropriately humble, blushing at Sheridan’s praise. Reg peeked in through the parlor door, offering Charlie respite from being the center of attention. "Thank you, General. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I believe supper is ready. Mrs. Williams, may I escort you in?"
The woman nodded politely and took Charlie's proffered arm. Rebecca smiled and took the arm offered her by General Sheridan. The General said quietly, "Charlie is a very lucky man. I hope you both will be very happy."
"Thank you, General. I think we will."
Polk claimed Elizabeth’s hand, and Whitman very gently escorted Constance in to dinner.
The room was lit with a multitude of small white tapers and decorated with fresh evergreens, holly, and ivy. Charlie seated Mrs. Williams to his right, taking the head of the table, while Rebecca took her position at the foot of the table with General Sheridan to her right. The others found their places at the table, each marked with a beautifully lettered card in a small porcelain holder. Beulah and Reg served the opening course of potted trout, followed by a delicate soup of clarified chicken broth with winter greens. The main course followed, a fine rack of venison. At first, conversation was traditionally formal, with the weather, the crops grown in the area and other comfortably neutral subjects being discussed. But as the guests grew more comfortable with one another, conversation turned to the condition of the economy and land around Culpeper.
As Reg cleared away the plates from the main course, Mayor Frazier leaned forward. "General Sheridan, as I said the other day, when the war started, Culpeper was thriving. The county was rich with productive farms and several of the best stud stables in Virginia. Since then, the armies of both sides have rolled through this county over and over, churning the crops to mud, tearing down the fences, stealing the horses so we have no breeding stock left, no seed, no nothing. There are less than one hundred fifty people left in Culpeper who were here when the war started. The rest have died in battle, been killed by marauders, died of disease brought on by lack of good food, warm clothes or medical care, or left because there is no way to make a living here."
Sheridan responded thoughtfully. "This part of Virginia has paid a terrible price for this conflict. As you know, General Redmond is under direct orders to do everything he can to help you rebuild."
Mrs. Williams could not hold back her anger. She interrupted abruptly. "All of this pain and suffering is your fault, General Sheridan –– yours and all the Yankees like you who have torn our rights from us and tried to take our glorious heritage and way of life from us."
The guests held their breaths. Such vitriol was an unheard of breach of etiquette. And while all of the guests present might not agree with the politics the Union officers represented, they had accepted the invitation from Rebecca Gaines knowing full well that General Sheridan was the guest of honor.
Mr. Williams finally stepped in. "Mrs. Williams, remember yourself. I am now, and always have been, a man of peace. I expect you to respect my position and to respect our hostess and her guests." He turned to Rebecca. "Mrs. Gaines, please accept my sincere apologies for this outburst." He then scanned the rest of the assembled guests. "I, for one, welcome intelligent discussion of how to return my community to the health and prosperity it once knew. For that, I am grateful to you for your honest concern. Now, I fear I must excuse my wife and myself. She clearly is not herself this evening."
Charlie stood. "Certainly, we all understand, Reverend Williams. I will see to it that Mr. and Mrs. Cooper return home safely. I am sure we all hope that Mrs. Williams is feeling more herself tomorrow."
The rest of the evening was subdued, with dessert, a lovely presentation of poached apples, served quickly. Shortly after, Polk volunteered to see the Coopers home.
Elizabeth and Whitman helped Constance upstairs. The stress of the confrontation had drained the young woman. Finally, Charlie and Rebecca stood together beside the Christmas tree, the guests all retired to their respective quarters or homes.
"Well, my dear, that went reasonably well, do you not think so?" Charlie stood behind Rebecca and wrapped his arms around her waist.
Rebecca reached back and caressed Charlie's cheek. "I think so, General. You were a charming host. However, I am afraid that Reverend Williams is going straight to Hell for telling such lies."
Charlie threw his head back and laughed. "Are you suggesting, my dear, that Mrs. Williams was very much herself this evening?"
"Very much. Good Lord, Charlie," Rebecca turned to face him. "I am surprised she lasted as long as she did. I noticed she managed to hold her tongue until after dinner."
"Well, dear, she may be a shrew, but she is not a fool. And she does enjoy a good meal. So consider it a compliment to Sarah’s skills."
"I suppose so." She yawned then sighed. "I am tired, Charlie, and I have had enough contemplation of the despicable Mrs. Williams for this evening. Take me to bed."
"Willingly, my beloved." Charlie swept Rebecca up in his arms and proceeded to march up stairs. "Shall we go and enjoy the first of many Christmas Eves together, my love?"
"We shall dear." She held close to him as they went up the steps. "You know, I have never slept with a General before."
"Well, darling, you will tonight. But I fear we will not be able to sleep in late tomorrow, for I heard little Em telling Lizbet she wanted to get up early to see what ‘‘pwesents’ Father Christmas had brought her."
Chapter 21
D
ecember 25, 1864
T
he first silver light of false dawn had just begun to lighten the shades when Charlie woke. He was curled around Rebecca’s body, keeping her warm through the chilliest part of the night. He had an uncomfortable feeling of being watched.
Very carefully, he untangled himself from Rebecca, moving quietly so as not to awaken her. Slowly he rolled over and opened his eyes.
A pair of very serious blue eyes topped with tousled black hair looked back at him. "Mewwy Chwistmas, Papa." Tess had admonished the little girl that asking what Father Christmas brought her was not polite. Good little girls said ‘‘Merry Christmas.’ Today, Em wanted her presents as quickly as possible, so being good was very important.
Two little hands appeared at the edge of the bed. The bed was too high for her to climb into without help. "Up, Papa," she demanded. "Em cold."
Charlie reached one arm out. Two very cold little hands wrapped themselves around his wrist and he pulled the child up onto the bed and under the covers with him. Considerable squirming resulted as the child happily settled in and managed quickly to maneuver herself to the warmest spot in the bed - between Charlie and Rebecca. Rebecca’s first conscious awareness of the morning was a pair of very cold little feet tucked against her side.
Without rolling over Rebecca murmured. "We have a guest."
Em cuddled against Rebecca’s back. "Mewwy Chwistmas, Mamma ‘‘Becca."
Rebecca rolled over and wrapped the little girl in her arms, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Merry Christmas, Em. Do you know how early it is? Could you let Papa and me sleep just a little more?"
Em knew she was not allowed to go down the big stairs by herself, but Papa had told her last night that someone called Father Christmas was going to come and put a surprise under the big tree just for her. She did not quiet understand why he was going to do this, but that did not matter. What mattered was that she was getting a big surprise and she could not wait to get down there and see what it was. Excited blue eyes looked back at Rebecca. "No, now."
Charlie, who normally rose at this hour anyway, was thoroughly enjoying watching Em wrap Rebecca around her little finger. Usually, he was the object of the child’s demands; this time, Rebecca was definitely in the child’s sights.
Rebecca looked to Charlie who was watching the exchange with a huge smile on his face. "Oh, you hush up, Charles Redmond!" she scolded with a smile of her own.
"Does that mean I should get up and stoke the fire, dear? I could put your kettle on the hob as well, if you wish." Charlie was all sweetness and solicitation, but there was a wicked little gleam in his eye.
"Yes, I think that is exactly what that means, you evil man. Em and I will just stay nice and warm all tucked away in the down. You may fetch us when the room warms up." She paused and smiled at him, "considerably."
Charlie rose and shrugged into his robe. A little searching was necessary, as the carpet slippers that normally resided right beside the bed where he could step into them had somehow gone wandering. Finally, he knelt down and rummaged under the bed, dredging the slippers back from where two small, bare feet had kicked them as their small visitor had climbed up his arm. As he stoked the fire, coaxing flames from the banked coals and carefully feeding more wood to heat the room, he heard giggles and some very high pitched squeals coming from beneath the covers.
He filled the kettle from the pitcher, set it on the hob and walked back over to the bed. There were no heads showing, but under the down comforter there was quite a bit of suspicious movement. "Are you two having a command conference in there?"
"Yes, we are, Papa," came the muffled reply that Charlie knew had to be Rebecca. "We are discussing what Father Christmas may have brought you this morning."
"Oh, dear. I hope I have not been too bad this year, or he may have brought me sticks and coals."
The covers came whipping down and Em squealed and giggled. "Papa good."
"And what about you, Em. Have you been good, or did Father Christmas bring you sticks and coals?"
"Em very good," she giggled then suddenly got a very serious look on her face, glancing back and forth between them. "Yes?"
Charlie smiled at the child. "Em is very, very good." He reached down and caressed the top of her head. "Papa thinks you have been very good indeed."
"But Papa may just get coal for teasing you, Em. What do you think of that? Does Papa get coal?"
"No, Mamma ‘‘Becca. Papa good. Papa get kisses." The child held her face up to Charlie, all puckered to deliver one immediately.
Rebecca laughed as Charlie was graced with what could only be called a wet, sloppy baby kiss.
But that was not sufficient for the child. Papa deserved kisses from everybody, as far as she was concerned. "Mamma ‘‘Becca. Kiss Papa."
"Have you been a good boy, Charlie? Do you deserve a kiss from Mamma ‘‘Becca?" She gave him her best coy smile.
Charlie looked deep into Rebecca’s eyes. In an instant, the moment had shifted from lighthearted play to deep intimacy. "I think that is for you to say, my love."
Without a word, she leaned over and graced him with a kiss. Em was quite pleased to see Mamma ‘‘Becca and Papa sharing a kiss until she had been stuffed between them just a little too long for her comfort. She pushed on Charlie. "Papa kiss Em."
Charlie drew back from Rebecca’s lips and promptly kissed the little girl soundly on the forehead. His eyes never left Rebecca’s. As the kiss ended, he murmured "Merry Christmas, my beloved."
The kettle on the hob began to whistle. With a lingering smile and a soft caress that started with Rebecca’s cheek and passed over Em’s head, he turned and poured the water into the teapot.
Rebecca rose, carrying the child with her, and went to sit before the fire. She poured tea for the three of them, liberally dosing the child’s with honey and cream. Charlie splashed some of the water from the kettle into his washbowl and began lathering his shaving brush. Em watched, fascinated as Charlie spread the thick lather over his cheeks and chin.
Em squirmed out of Rebecca's lap and made her way across the room. Once next to Charlie she tugged on his robe. "Papa?"
"Yes, little one?" Charlie spoke a little absent-mindedly, as he stropped his razor.
This was not nearly good enough for the little girl and she only tugged harder on Charlie's robe. "Papa!"
Charlie stopped in mid-strop. "What do you want, Em?"
"Down, Papa."
Charlie crouched down until the two of them were face to face. "Yes?"
Em immediately put her hands in the thick foam covering his face. She then squealed with delight and clapped her hands together covering them both in the foamy white froth. Then she took what was left on her own hands and smeared it on her face. From her spot near the fire Rebecca roared with laughter.