The Lady and the Officer (13 page)

“I'm here most Wednesdays should you be needin' a friendly face to talk to, seeing we're both Yankees and all.” He grinned before hastily adding, “Meaning no disrespect, ma'am.”

“I have a houseful of kinfolk should I wish to chat,” Madeline said
coolly, miffed at his boldness. She marched away but didn't get far before an idea occurred. Hurrying back, she leaned precariously over the squid. In a much warmer tone, she said, “Actually, could you could get a letter into the hands of someone in the Union army? I would like to write to my… brother.” She regretted lying, yet she dared not trust this swarthy sea captain.

Captain's George's grin revealed a gold tooth. “That I can, ma'am. I'm here most Wednesdays. Don't take your business to nobody but me.” He resettled his cap on his head and turned toward crates stacked on the ground.

Madeline practically ran through the crowd to the Duncan carriage. She was eager to lock herself in her room, write one more letter, and then bind them all together with string. But when she and her cousin had entered the foyer, Aunt Clarisa asked them to come to the parlor before Madeline could escape upstairs.

“I'm glad you're finally home, Eugenia. Colonel Haywood had business with your father and has graciously agreed to stay for dinner.” She waved her hand toward the tall, distinguished officer who had risen to greet them. “Colonel Haywood, you've met my daughter, Eugenia. And this is my niece, Mrs. Madeline Howard.”

“Good afternoon, Colonel.” Eugenia curtsied charmingly and extended her hand.

“Miss Eugenia, how lovely you look in pink.” He gripped her fingers briefly before turning his attention on Madeline. He stared at her briefly, and then his smile doubled in size. “Mrs. Howard, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The colonel bowed deeply from the waist.

Madeline didn't know how to respond. She wasn't wearing gloves, had just been in a public market, and feared she would fall if she attempted to curtsy. “The pleasure is mine, Colonel, but you must excuse me. I seem to have misplaced my gloves during our outing.” She clasped her hands behind her back, regretting her second lie of the day.

Yet if this Confederate colonel would be staying for dinner, she suspected it wouldn't be her last.

S
EVEN

 

A
t thirty-eight years of age, Colonel Elliott Haywood had known more than his fair share of lovely belles. In the past, some had vied for his attention because of his father's money and social position as a Virginia planter. However, in recent years their slaves had run off and the crops were picked clean by a hungry army. His family would be fortunate to raise enough for the next tax bill. Some women were attracted to the pressed and polished uniform of a Confederate officer, yet with only one functioning arm, his reassignment to Richmond's home guard no longer carried the same prestige as a member of J.E.B. Stuart's cavalry. Frankly, Elliott had grown weary of vapid young women who clung to an old way of life. He was neither sentimental nor particularly attached to the trappings of polite society.

He had fought bravely in battle for the South. Shot from the saddle, he had lain for a full day in mud and blood, fully expecting to die on Northern soil. When Yankee soldiers carried him to the crowded yard of a field hospital, he fully expected to die from neglect under a blistering sun. So many wounded men lay in rows like forks in a drawer with so few doctors to attend to them. But when a sweet-faced angel appeared above him, he thought he'd woken in the Promised Land. Elliott was stripped of his jacket and hat and carried into the surgeon's tent. Each morning thereafter he'd fully expected to be hauled off to a Union prison. But he neither died nor was marched away under guard. Then one day, after he recovered sufficient strength, he walked out of that gruesome hospital and chaotic little town and came home… home to Richmond.

Elliott rather liked his new assignment. Certainly, ensuring the safety of Jefferson Davis and members of his staff shouldn't prove too taxing. His shoulder still ached where the bullet had been dislodged. And although he still possessed two arms, one hung limply like wet laundry on a clothesline. Tonight he had been invited to dinner at the home of John Duncan—one of the president's most trusted staff members. Unlike his own
family, the Duncans apparently still possessed the wherewithal to entertain. John Duncan's daughter had always seemed immature for her age, even though she'd officially come out. Elliott didn't need another reminder he was almost forty and still unwed. What he hadn't expected was to recognize the face of his saving angel when introduced to Mrs. Duncan's niece… and a very pretty face, at that.

An hour had passed since he had been introduced to her. With murmured excuses, the young women had left them to freshen up after their morning out. Eventually, Elliott followed his host and hostess into the dining room, and while Elliott tried to keep his attention on his conversation with the Duncans, he couldn't help internally anticipating the return of their niece.

“What news do you hear of the navy's plans to destroy the blockade, Colonel Haywood? We simply must get regular shipments from England and the continent—” Mrs. Duncan's question to him hung in midair as she suddenly turned toward the doorway. “Ah, there you two are. Please join us. Dinner is about to be served.”

Elliott and Mr. Duncan had risen to their feet with the appearance of Eugenia and Mrs. Howard.

“Please forgive my tardiness, ma'am,” Mrs. Howard murmured deferentially, while Eugenia flounced to her chair.

“Not at all, my dear. We were enjoying an aperitif, knowing you two had a tiresome day.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Howard.” Elliott lifted his glass in salute. “I'm delighted to see you again after all this time.”

She looked puzzled as she lowered herself to her chair. “I beg your pardon, sir. We were introduced but an hour ago.” Mrs. Howard angled her head toward the parlor as the Duncans stared in confusion.

Elliott held up his glass for the butler to refill. “I'm not surprised you don't make the connection. My appearance was less than presentable at the time. But I will never forget you, no matter how long I live.”

Mrs. Howard waved away the offer of a glass of wine. “Again, sir, you have me at a disadvantage.” She placed a goblet of water to her rosy lips.

He nodded with the deference she showed Mrs. Duncan. “You graciously intervened on my behalf in Gettysburg. Had you not spoken to
the surgeon in the field hospital, I certainly would have bled to death far from home. I am and will forevermore remain in your debt.” Gazing around the table, he lifted his glass in toast. Hastily Mr. and Mrs. Duncan raised their wine stems.

“You knew Cousin Maddy in Pennsylvania?” asked Eugenia, wide eyed.

“Indeed, Miss Eugenia.” Elliott didn't take his eyes off the flummoxed Mrs. Howard. “She was working as a nurse and stopped at my bedside. Actually, I was lying on the hard ground, but I won't insult the ladies with unnecessary details. After Mrs. Howard convinced the good doctor my wound wasn't mortal as originally assumed, I was moved to the surgery. I had been left outdoors with the other… hopeless cases.”

“My word, what a fortuitous coincidence,” Mr. Duncan said before taking a hearty swallow of his drink.

“It was the hand of God.” Mrs. Duncan took a small sip, eyeing her niece.

“Mrs. Howard offered me a ladle of water, which tasted sweeter than wine or brandy, and noticed that my wound had stopped hemorrhaging. Upon her intervention on my behalf, the doctor extracted a bullet and sewed me up without fanfare, perhaps still expecting me to die.”

Madeline drained her water glass. “Now I remember you, sir,” she said with a warm smile. “It is a joy to see that you recovered.”

The Duncans gaped from one to the other, bewildered, until Mr. Duncan finally spoke. “You fooled them all, Haywood, and here you are—a grand turn of events! Micah, I believe we are ready to eat.”

Mrs. Howard leaned back in her chair as platters were presented at table. “Lest you give my aunt and uncle a false impression of my heroism, sir, I should admit that you were the only soldier I… saved. For me, the things I experienced at that field hospital were unbearable, and I never returned. I volunteered only that one day.”

“Be that as it may, I was the fortunate recipient of your foray into nursing. Your face will remain etched in my memory always.”

“Please don't be so dramatic regarding my involvement, sir. God decreed your time wasn't done.” Mrs. Howard took a hearty scoop of mashed potatoes. “Have you recovered full health and vitality?”

He watched her mannerisms and gestures, intrigued by her every movement. “Healthy with all four limbs accounted for, even though one does not function.” He touched the sleeve of his useless arm.

Mrs. Howard blanched and averted her gaze. “I hadn't noticed, sir. Excuse my boldness. Your return to the Confederacy is extraordinary in itself, Colonel Haywood. You might have ended up in a federal prison.”

“That's a long story better saved for another day. I shall share it on a different occasion.” Elliott pivoted toward his hostess, suddenly aware Mrs. Duncan was studying him curiously. “This ham tastes delicious, madam. The honey glaze reminds me of home.” He thumped his chest with a clenched fist.

Mrs. Duncan smiled and nodded to the butler. Micah made a second trip around the table with the ham platter. “Our butcher is the best in town, Colonel.”

“I'm surprised to find you in Richmond, Colonel,” asked Mrs. Howard. “Has your arm prevented your return to the army?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I'm in command of the Richmond home guard. My responsibility is to keep the city secure at all costs. It's my honor to protect men such as your uncle, who offer immeasurable service to the Cause.” Elliott nodded at his host.

“Our invalid soldiers have stepped into valuable roles in the war department,” Mr. Duncan said, taking another slice of ham from the platter.

“How about you, Mrs. Howard?” asked Elliott. “What made you abandon your hometown and take up residence in our fair city?”

She set down her fork. “I never would have left, sir, but my town was almost destroyed by the battle—our church, the school, my home. With my brood mares stolen, I had no choice but to throw myself on the mercy of my aunt and uncle. They have graciously taken me in.” She lifted her chin with sorrowful dignity.

Elliott almost choked on his food. “Forgive me, madam. I had no knowledge of your loss.”

“No harm done, Colonel, but might I trouble you for a slice of ham? I prefer not to make poor Micah walk around the table a third time.” Mrs. Howard held out her plate to him.

His discomfort vanished with one flash of her magnificent smile. “It would be my pleasure.” He speared the juiciest slice on the platter for her.

S
EPTEMBER
1863

Madeline awoke from her afternoon nap to a face looming above her, barely a foot away. “Goodness, Genie! You startled me.” She straightened to an upright position in the chaise.

“Is my face that frightening?” Her cousin feigned a childlike pout.

“Your face is fine, but why are you watching me sleep?”

Eugenia hurried toward the bed where three gowns had been laid out. “Mama said I shouldn't wake you, but I feared you would sleep until tomorrow morning.”

Madeline scrubbed her face with both hands. “This Virginia humidity makes me drowsy in the afternoon. Back home, summer would be waning by now.”

“No more tedious talk of the weather, cousin. Although I daresay, it's your favorite topic. Help me select my gown for the festivities tonight.” One by one, Eugenia held up a soft blue, pale peach, and sunny yellow dress beneath her chin.

“All are lovely, but the peach makes your eyes sparkle and complements your blond hair.” Madeline poured a glass of cool water to regain her senses. “Why are you deciding between ball gowns?” she asked after her first hearty swallow. “I thought tonight was to be a simple dinner for Uncle John's friends.”

Eugenia rolled her eyes. “There's nothing
simple
about dinner for thirty at seven o'clock. This might be the closest we come to a social occasion for the entire month. I begged Mama to let me wear something special, and she finally agreed.” The girl waltzed around Madeline's room with the peach dress for a partner. “I'm surprised these gowns haven't deteriorated from neglect.”