Authors: Susan Macatee
“It’s great to finally have a solid roof over my head.” Erin dropped her gaze stamping her foot against the wool carpet. “And floor.”
Jenny laughed. “I’m so glad you came home with Will. It’ll be like having a sister.”
While Jenny summoned the servants to prepare the tub, Erin’s anticipation of her first real bath in months eased her anxiety about meeting Will’s parents.
Later, as she soaked in the hot, lavender scented water, her thoughts drifted to where this relationship with Will would lead and how she could change history to prevent his premature death.
****
Will greeted his mother with an obligatory kiss on the cheek.
“Where’s Father?” he asked.
“He’s been at the bank all day in meetings.” She waved her small, thin hand as if dismissing his father’s activities as trivial. “He should be arriving shortly.”
She snapped her fan open and fluttered it before her thin, drawn face. She still dressed in black from head to toe. Will had hoped in all the months he’d been gone that she would’ve abandoned the mourning clothes she’d donned after his brother, Sam’s, death in the first month of the war.
Her dark hair streaked with gray was pulled back into a tight bun. “And my—” She took a step back to admire Will. “—you surely do make a handsome soldier.”
“Thank you, Mother, but I know how you feel about the army.”
His mother gestured with the fan. “War is nasty business. I don’t see why civilized men have to fight.” She laughed. “But then, I forget, the Yankees aren’t civilized.”
Will smiled. “Jenny tells me there’s to be a welcome home dinner. May I ask who’s attending?”
She cleared her throat, fanning herself. “Only Miss Courtland. She’s such a lovely young lady.”
And she’s from a respectable, wealthy family.
He kept the smile frozen on his lips. “I do hope you’re not playing matchmaker again, Mother.”
She gasped. “It’s been two years since poor Anne left us. Your daughter needs a mother. And your father wouldn’t mind having a grandson.”
“Jenny isn’t yet married.”
His mother pursed her thin lips. “He wants a grandson who will bear the Montgomery name.”
The clip clop of a horse’s hooves and the clatter of wagon wheels outside interrupted the conversation.
“It’s your father.” She peered out the window. “We’d best go greet him.”
Will hesitated. His father was the last person he wanted to see. His mother waved her fan toward the door and frowned her disapproval when he didn’t move.
Knowing he had little choice, he gestured at the entry. “After you, Mother.”
He escorted his mother to the short granite walkway beside the garden, swinging the wrought iron gate open as Zachary Montgomery alighted from the carriage. As always, his father was impeccably dressed in a brown wool suit and black stove-pipe hat.
Approaching his wife and son, he nodded with obvious approval at Will’s full dress uniform. He didn’t smile but wore his usual stern expression.
“Hello, Father,” Will said.
“Heard you were wounded at Gettysburg,” he drawled. “I’m happy to see you’re not too bad off. How long will you be with us?”
“I have a medical furlough for the winter to allow me to fully recover.”
His father nodded. Reaching inside his coat, he patted his vest pocket and extracted a cigar. “Would you care for one?”
“No, thank you, sir.”
He nodded again and looked at his wife. “What time will we be dining, my dear?”
“Tillie will have it ready by seven.”
“Very well.” He motioned to Will. “Come with me to the study, I’d like you to regale me with stories of your heroics at Gettysburg.” Without waiting for an answer, he entered the house.
Will glanced at his mother but said nothing. After escorting her inside, he followed his father into the study.
His father’s large, mahogany desk, where he conducted business when away from the bank, was the centerpiece of the room. Two upholstered chairs, where guests could sit and enjoy Zachary’s stash of fine cigars, flanked the desk. A large portrait of the first Zachary Montgomery hung on the wall behind his father’s chair. His grandfather gazed at him with the same stern expression his son now wore. Will paced across the plush oriental carpet.
Zachary, puffing on his cigar, took his seat behind the desk. He motioned for Will to sit across from him, then eyed him speculatively. “Word is, the war’s taken a downturn since Gettysburg.”
“It seems that way.”
“No matter.” He blew out a stream of aromatic smoke. “Our side will prevail.”
Will knew better than to argue with his father. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m glad to see you’ve not been wounded gravely.”
“Thank you.” He waited, wondering where the conversation headed.
“Mother and I have been speculating as to when you’ll take a new wife.”
Will said nothing.
“You’ve been a widower for two years now. It’s time you resume courting.”
He stared at his father but didn’t reply.
Zachary leaned back in his chair. “There are a number of eligible young women in town.”
“Like Miss Courtland?” Will said.
Zachary sighed. “Your mother told you...or was it Jenny?” He waved his cigar. “It doesn’t matter. She’s a lovely young lady from a very fine family.”
“Sir,” Will said, “After my furlough, I’ll be going back to war. I could be killed. Nearly was at Gettysburg. I can’t think about getting married now.”
“That’s all the more reason,” Zachary replied. “Amanda needs a mother.”
“She has you and Mother.”
“We’re too old to be parents to a young girl.”
“Jenny, then—”
“Jenny will be marrying and starting a family of her own. You can’t expect her to take on the burden of her brother’s child.”
“You can’t expect me to marry just any woman so Amanda can have a mother.”
“Miss Courtland is not just any woman.”
Will sighed. “I can’t make any promises. I’m a captain in the Confederate Army, and I have an obligation to that post.” He stood. “A post
you
pushed me into taking.”
“I understand, son. But you also have to take personal responsibility for your family before you go off to battle.”
“I’ll think on what you said, sir.” Wanting to escape this interview, he stood and walked out before his father could utter another word.
Will paused at the base of the stairs. A feminine giggle from above drew his attention. His gaze rose to two figures at the top of the staircase.
Jenny, in a rose-colored gown, held the arm of Erin O’Connell. Will stared at her. He couldn’t believe this was the same woman he’d brought from camp. The deep blue of the gown she wore brought out the sapphire color of her eyes. The wide skirt hung like a bell emphasizing her small waist. A white lace triangle covering the front of her bodice adorned her rounded bosom.
As the two women slowly descended the stairs, Mrs. O’Connell locked eyes with him. The desire he’d had for her back in camp, intensified. He was unable to look away.
Chapter Fourteen
Erin swallowed, unable to look away. Will looked dashing in his gray captain’s uniform, and she detected admiration in his eyes. So focused on him was she that when she reached the base of the stairs, she nearly stumbled over her crinoline. Only his firm grip on her arm kept her from tripping. A pleasant warmth spread over her when he escorted her into the foyer.
“Well.” He turned to Jenny, “My dear sister, you surely do work wonders.”
She flashed him an “I-told-you-so” smile. “I had excellent material to work with.” She smiled at Erin.
Heat crept up Erin’s face. She
had
to be blushing.
“I would have to agree with you,” Will said. He took Erin’s hand and lifted it to his lips.
A delightful shiver ran down her spine. They locked eyes again, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Was it the kiss, the intensity in his eyes or...the damn corset? Jenny had insisted on lacing it tightly. How the hell was she supposed to eat anything or even breathe with this on? “I need to sit down.”
Will escorted her to a velvet, straight back chair at the base of the stairs. “I’ll get you some brandy.”
“No, water will be fine.”
Will and Jenny exchanged glances.
“If it’s too much trouble—”
“Oh, no,” Jenny said. “Tillie should have drawn some water for tonight’s meal. I’ll go to the kitchen and get some.” She ran down the hall.
“I didn’t mean to be so much of a bother,” Erin apologized.
“It’s quite all right,” Will said. “After all, you are our guest.”
Oh, my
. No wonder Southern belles needed those hand fans.
“That gown looks lovely on you.”
“Thank you, but I have to give your sister the credit for that.” She glanced around the room to avoid looking into those eyes. Maybe then she could regain her breath. “Your home is beautiful.”
He shrugged. “This is my parents’ home. Unfortunately, my station as the son of a well-off banker carries with it responsibilities I don’t wish to contemplate.”
Erin digested his statement, wondering what he was trying to tell her. “You’re not happy to be home?”
He sighed. “I must say, I’ll be happy to leave this house for the duration of the war.”
She didn’t know what to say. Why was he suddenly confiding in her? He’d never discussed his family when they were in camp.
An uncomfortable silence followed. She wished Jenny would hurry with the water. Will cleared his throat but said nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief when Jenny appeared holding a ceramic mug.
“I must apologize for taking so long.” She handed the mug to Erin. Aside to Will, she said, “You know how talkative Tillie can be.”
“I do indeed.”
After Erin felt a bit better, Jenny left her in Will’s care.
“Allow me to show you the rose garden.” Will lifted his arm.
Erin reached for his elbow, nestling her fingers in the warmth of his coat sleeve.
He escorted her to the front door, then along the side of the house toward the back. As they strolled the cobbled path along the flowerbeds, Will said, “My mother takes great pride in her roses.”
Erin surveyed the large roses in full bloom, varying in colors of red, pink and white.
“Seems to me Tillie should be the one to take pride.” She glared at Will. “She does all the work.”
Will smirked. “While you are likely right, don’t allow my mother to hear you say that.”
“To avoid being thrown bodily from your house, I’ll be sure to keep my opinions to myself.”