Undaunted Love (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Christmas, 1861

Byrd’s Creek

L
IVVIE SAT WITH MADELINE IN front of the fire, the baby sleeping in her mother’s arms. Livvie had been visiting her sister when the baby was born on December 4, tiny and squalling and hungry. From what she could tell, the baby hadn’t stopped eating since. She smiled and ran her finger along the soft plump arm, thinking of Rafe.

“Livvie! Darling! Please come, you really
must
play me a game of checkers.” Wyman Phelps stood beside her sister and held out a hand. Dressed in his best velvet long coat and cravat, he looked handsome at first glance. But his blue eyes always had a mocking and, in Livvie’s estimation, cruel glint to them, and she shivered at the thought of holding his hand. Her father had returned home only days before, and insisted that Wyman join them for the Christmas celebration. Had it been up to Clara, he would most certainly be elsewhere.

Shaking her head, she gave what she hoped was a sad smile. “Thank you, Wyman, but really, I’m gonna sit here with Madeline. I’ve been helpin’ her with Sarah, and you know that newborn babies will just tucker you right out. I’m sure Daddy’ll be happy to beat you at checkers.”

Her father guffawed from across the room. “I always win, young man, but if you set the board, I shall be happy to give you a chance to turn the tables.” Wyman’s face reddened slightly, but he had little choice. And Livvie knew that her father would win any game he played with Wyman, one way or another.

Madeline turned to her when the men were sitting at the small table under the window. “He’s handsome enough, but he’s really not… nice, is he?” she whispered.

Livvie shook her head. “Mama was able to keep him away while Daddy was gone, but now he’s back, I’m afraid he’s going to be here all the time once again. Daddy is determined I’m to marry him…”

“You can’t!” Madeline exclaimed.

“No, I can’t,” her sister said, smiling. “I really can’t. And I won’t.”

“Mama can talk to Daddy, tell him he’s not a nice man,” Madeline said.

“Mama can talk a dog off a meat wagon, but Daddy won’t listen to her. He’s never listened to her yet, I don’t see him startin’ now.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t see, or else he doesn’t care. At least Gardner was a gentleman, and he loves you. Wyman… Yes, he comes from a good family and all, but there’s just somethin’
wrong
somewhere, down deep where you can’t fully see it. He seems all nice and polite, and he’s handsome and well dressed and, well, clean. His family has that big plantation down near Savannah, and Emmy said they have near to three hundred slaves. So Daddy, he’s not really lookin’ at much else.”

The baby stirred and started to fuss. “She needs to eat,” Madeline said, standing.

“She always needs to eat!” laughed Livvie.

“Just wait til you have one of your own, you’ll see,” her sister said. “I’ll be back.”

As she left the room, Emmy entered with a tray of hot coffee and hot cross buns. Livvie had made the hot cross buns herself, that morning, and she smiled to herself, thinking how proud Rafe would be.

“Livvie, bring us coffee,” her father called to her.

“Yes, Daddy,” she answered, standing and going to the sideboard where Emmy had set the tray. She poured two cups, mixed in sugar and cream, and carried them over to the men.

“Sit, watch the game,” her father said after she’d set them down.

“That’s all right, Daddy, I’d just as soon get to my needlework and wait for Madeline. She’s lonely without Gardner here.”

“Nonsense!” Hugh Byrd said. “Gardner’s doing his duty at his own family’s house, and will join her in the morning. How could she be lonely in a house full of people?” He snorted derisively. “Sit. Wyman might need your help soon.” Studying the board, he missed the glower this elicited in his young employee, but Liv didn’t. However, the tone in her father’s voice was one which brooked no disobedience, so she sat.

“Many men are volunteering now,” Hugh said, apparently continuing a conversation they’d been having before she sat down. “There is great enthusiasm, and we believe that one decisive battle will push back Lincoln and force him to concede that the Southern states have acted within our rights.”

“If all the men go to fight, no one will be left to carry on at home. I am content to stay and do whatever’s needful here,” Wyman said. “I can’t see myself prancing around in grey wool, a flop hat on my head, walking to and fro on a parade field somewhere. I am better suited for civilian life, I’m afraid.”

“But the men fight bravely,” Livvie began.

“When they have had to fight!” he sneered. “Which is precious little. There are plenty of men sitting around in Virginia or North Carolina or even in Charleston, doing nothing. If it does indeed take one battle, most will never do anything else but what they’ve done til now. For someone like myself, it’s a waste of time and talent.”

“And if it takes more than one battle, they will defend you, all of us. And will you still keep your time and talent from their ranks?” Livvie asked, indignant.

“Wyman is helping me at present, and I am helping Governor Pickens. At such time as he is needed, or our prospects change, I’m sure he will reconsider and heed President Davis’ call for volunteers.” Hugh kinged another piece, having jumped three of Wyman’s markers in one move.

“I shan’t,” Wyman mumbled, and moved one of his remaining three pieces, only to be wiped off the board by Hugh, who laughed richly.

“As I said, I always win. Another?”

Wyman shook his head, picking up his coffee cup and sipping gently at the hot liquid. His eyes were on Livvie, and, she noticed, not confined to her face, as a gentleman’s should be. She was thankful she had on a day dress with a high neck and white collar, rather than an evening dress with a lower bodice. Still, she felt uncomfortable, as if he was undressing her in his mind. She stood and turned away, saying “I think I’ll pour myself some coffee.”

Livvie had longed to tell Madeline her secret. It would be much easier to spend time at the farm helping Nackie, and truth be told, feeling close to Rafe, if Madeline would allow her say she was visiting to help with the children and the new house. Madeline still had a soft spot for their father, despite his many tyrannical moments, and Liv was afraid. But with Hugh home and Wyman back in the house, she felt she had no choice but to seek an ally.

Her sister had laid the baby in her bassinet in Madeline’s former bedroom, and was sitting on the bed taking the braids out of her hair. Livvie sat behind her and pushed her hands away, taking down the intricate coiffure as she’d done many times, before her sister had married and gone to Wadmalaw.

“Mad, I have something to tell you… But you mustn’t tell anyone except Gardner. And
he
mustn’t tell. Mama and Daddy can’t find out, not yet. You must promise.”

Used to her sister’s dramatic bent, Madeline smiled and said, “As long as you haven’t broken any laws or become a Union sympathizer, I promise.”

Taking a deep breath, Livvie whispered, “I married Rafe Colton in April.” Madeline didn’t say anything, and Livvie couldn’t see her face. After a full minute, she said, “Mad? Did you hear me?”

Madeline turned and grinned at her. “I did, and I was trying not to scream!” She grabbed Livvie and hugged her tightly. “That’s wonderful, Liv, truly. And I won’t tell, and Gardner won’t either. We both liked Rafe when he helped us after the hurricane, and it explains a lot about you here lately, too.” She released her.

“Me? Like what?” Livvie asked.

“Like cooking, for one thing. You never wanted to learn to boil water until these last months. When you came to help me, you were cooking entire meals with Chloe. And you’ve gotten up at night with the baby, and played with Thomas, and been diligent about your sewing. All things you were never interested in before. And now I know why! So tell me all about it!”

Livvie did, including their wedding day, and Rafe’s furlough, and the pregnancy scare. She told her how she had been helping Nackie, and visiting Mariah Colton, and taking them food and what other supplies she could rustle up.

“Just be careful Daddy doesn’t find out about you givin’ them food and supplies, spendin’ his money. He’s the most tightfisted man in South Carolina. And he wants that house to go with the land he took from Mrs. Colton. He wouldn’t take kindly to you helpin’ keep them in it.” Madeline put her hand on her sister’s cheek gently. “But you go on bein’ a good wife, and you do what you need to do for Mrs. Colton and your Rafe. Just make sure Emmy and Nackie don’t tell every slave within ten miles of Byrd’s Creek, or it’s bound to get back to Mama and Daddy.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

April 23, 1862

Byrd’s Creek, SC

T
HE MORNING DAWNED BRIGHT AND beautiful, but Livvie felt nothing but sadness as she lay abed, looking out her window and thinking of her husband. Today was their first anniversary, but they’d only spent four days together as man and wife. She knew God had a plan, and she trusted Him… But she couldn’t help feeling lonely. Sighing, she closed her eyes and pulled the covers up over her face, blocking out the sun. A light knock on the door startled her. It was barely seven o’clock, surely too early for anyone in her household to need her.

Rising, she pulled on her dressing gown and hurried to the door just as another round of furtive knocking was beginning. She pulled it open and found herself face to face with Emmy. The old slave woman was grinning ear to ear.

“Here you are, child, from your Mistuh Rafe.” She handed Livvie a letter and continued whispering, “You need to get on up and go out to the Colton place. Nackie’s got some kind a’surprise from your husband out there, awaiting on you.”

Grinning, Liv gave her a quick but heartfelt hug, held the letter to her chest, and wheeled back into her bedroom. She ripped open the inexpensive paper, letting the envelope fall to the floor.

Happy anniversary, my love!

I know this is not the way we’d planned to be living one year ago, and I expect I’ll be waking as one sad and lonely man today. I’ll close my eyes and see you in your pink gown, your hair shining in the candlelight, and remember your scent.

It is still my hope to be home soon, but the conscription law passed this month would seem to make it impossible for me to leave the regiment and be there with you again. There is a rumor that those of us with the original 1
st
South Carolina Volunteers are going to get a furlough, but until I am handed papers, it’s only rumor. I dream of it each day, nonetheless, and nothing would make me happier than to be home in Byrd’s Creek with you at my side.

Nackie has something for you. It ain’t much, I’m afraid, not what you deserve, but I hope it eases your loneliness on this day. I love you more ever, Liv. Truly I do.

Yours faithfully,

Rafe

Post script – I do have some small good news – I have been promoted again, to sergeant. Along with the stripes, it’s another $4 a month, which will help Nackie and Mama a good deal, now that prices are beginning to go up and things are dear. Master Sergeant Lawrence says I’m a natural soldier. Given we’ve seen only one battle, and that small, I don’t know what all he means, but I am pleased!

Emmy had breakfast waiting, a fried egg sandwich wrapped up in linen. “Go on now, Nackie’s waiting on you with the buggy out to the edge of town. I’ll tell your mama you’ve gone to the Blanchard house if’n she asks. Go on, now, git!” She shooed Livvie out the door, laughing.

More excited than hungry, Liv nibbled on the sandwich as she walked through town. She barely noticed the gracious wooden houses, their wide porches so inviting on hot afternoons. Most had white picket fences, although a few were edged with black iron rails, and daffodils bloomed profusely in clumps large and small. Few people were about so early, although Livvie knew that on her sister’s farm Gardner and his slaves had been busy for almost two hours. She waved at the few people she saw, trying to walk casually but dying to break into a run. Finally she came to the edge of town, leaving the less affluent areas that hung on at the fringes behind, and walking down the south road.

She met Nackie behind a broken down barn on the edge of the Blanchard’s land, their usual meeting spot. Livvie could walk to the Colton house, and had in the past, but it took nearly an hour and a half, and she was always grateful for a ride. The old negro helped her up into the cart, grinning at her.

“You and Emmy are two peas in a pod, Nackie. You’re both grinning enough to split your faces in two!” But she hugged him all the same, and sat happily next to him as they turned off the main road and onto the lane leading to the house.
All the land on the left had been Colton land, before Daddy took it
, Livvie reflected. It made her sad, and faintly ashamed, even though she knew it wasn’t her fault.

Nackie pulled the cart around to the barn and helped her down. Livvie waited patiently, or as patiently as she could manage, only allowing her excitement to show by shifting from foot to foot while he unhitched the horse and gave her some oats. She followed him out of the barn and around the back of the house, entering through the kitchen door. A tray was waiting on the table for Mariah, with a small bunch of daffodils in a small vase.

“Shall I take Mrs. Colton her breakfast when it’s ready?” she asked.

“Miz Mariah’d like that right well, Miz Liv. I’ll get her breakfast cooked up shortly, but first I got sumptin for you from that husband a’yours. You just wait right here.” He left, and she paced. She was glad she had sent Rafe a package with new boots, socks and hard spice cookies that Emmy had helped her make, along with a letter. She’d rather have him here, but was giddy that he hadn’t forgotten their day.

When the former slave returned, he was holding a small package wrapped in a scrap of colorful cloth. A pink ribbon tied it up. He handed it to her, and kissed her cheek, still grinning for all he was worth. Livvie held it gently and walked to the table. Sitting down, she carefully untied the ribbon. The fabric fell away to reveal a simple cardboard box. Opening the box, Livvie stared, lifting her hand to cover her mouth, tears forming in her eyes.

The ring inside wasn’t elaborate, nor was it made of gold. A narrow silver band, chased with vines and leaves, it looked well worn. Livvie lifted it out with shaking hands, and slid it onto her left ring finger. A perfect fit. She smiled while tears ran down her face. Holding it out for Nackie to see, she was already concocting a tale for her mama that would allow her to wear her wedding ring all the time.

Later that day Nackie drove her back to the edge of town, and she left him with a smile and a promise of another visit. Slowly but surely the Colton house was becoming her second home. She had a few clothes in the wardrobe, things she didn’t think her mother would miss seeing. She’d left one of her silver backed brushes as well, and a few books. A basket sat next to her favorite chair holding the beginnings of a quilt that she was making for their bed. She smiled as she walked, admiring her ring now and then and humming to herself.

She went straight to the kitchen, knowing she’d find Emmy there preparing supper. When the old woman turned towards her, she held up her hand and grinned. Emmy came forward and gave her a crushing hug, whispering in her ear. “Yo mama’s in the parlor with that Mistuh Phelps. They been waitin’ for you. And he’s stayin’ for supper.” She made a face as she released Livvie.

For her part, Liv was dismayed. She’d had a wonderful day at Rafe’s house, being his wife, wearing his ring, visiting his mama, napping in their bed. She wanted nothing more than to come home, eat a quiet meal with her own mother, and write a long letter to her husband. She most certainly did not want to entertain Mr. Wyman Phelps.

“I’m gonna have to get a headache, Emmy. I’ll make my excuses and retire to my room, if you’ll bring me a tray when supper’s ready? I want to go write a letter to Rafe,
not
play games with Daddy’s idea of a husband.” She swept out of the room and entered the parlor across the wide hallway.

“Livvie!” her mother cried happily, rising. Clara Colton had already had enough of Wyman, her daughter could tell. Well, this time, she wasn’t going to be an obedient daughter.

“Mama.” She kissed her cheek. Turning to the young man, she said, “Wyman, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were coming. Unfortunately I’ve had a terrible headache today, and I’m simply played out. I’ve already asked Emmy to bring supper to my room.” Without waiting for an answer from either one, she left the room and ran upstairs, smiling happily.