The Quaker and the Rebel (38 page)

Thanks to her, the Union government knew the Gray Wraith’s identity. The Southern newspapers had portrayed him as a hero, pointing out that his social position hadn’t prevented him from serving the Cause. Some of the rangers who escaped the Middleburg trap joined the regular cavalry, praising their former commander to anyone who would listen. The rest disbanded and scattered to the four winds. Their handpicked band could no longer slip across enemy lines to raid horse stockades or commandeer a trainload of supplies, disappearing into the woods like mist. The plunder Nathan had reaped from sutlers’ wagons while the colonel had been occupied was especially missed by his family. Their plantation hadn’t turned a profit since long before the war. With his side venture gone, Nathan felt the financial pinch. Confederate pay envelopes were too small and too infrequent to support those
with healthy appetites. The commission he’d been offered in the regular cavalry held little appeal. Officers’ pay was little more than a foot soldier’s. And a captain’s rank placed a man in a perfect location to be shot during battle. Not an appealing proposition. His glory stemmed from being a ranger, not dying for the Glorious Cause.

All this because of a woman.

Losing the colonel’s respect and friendship had been the hardest to bear. Emily Harrison had destroyed everything for Nathan. He would enjoy watching her swing from a rope outside Castle Thunder—the price for treason. When she confessed her crimes to spare her neck at the gallows, Alexander would thank him for his diligence. With men of the home guard soon on their way to Franklin Street, that Yankee governess wouldn’t be sitting so high and mighty much longer.

“It was rather hard at first, Miss Harrison, to make ourselves understood.” Margaret Bennington explained in her cultured voice. “The nuns and other students had never heard French spoken with a Southern accent before. When we would ask someone at table to please pass the bread, they would stare and ponder the question. Then they would pass the jam,” she added with tinkling laughter.

“When I requested a new sliver of soap, I received an extra towel,” said Annie. Perched on the arm of her sister’s chair, she was eager to fill in the details about their stay in Paris.

Emily looked from one of her newly returned charges to the other with joy. She had missed Margaret’s gentle spirit, along with Annie’s dauntless enthusiasm. She wasn’t good at sipping tea or taking leisurely walks in the garden once they ran out of materials to repair the mansion. While abroad, Margaret had matured into a charming young lady and no longer required a governess. That would soon be the case with the younger Bennington daughter as well. Shaking off her sorrows, Emily leaned forward in her straight-backed chair. “Tell me more. Don’t leave out a single thing.”

Margaret smoothed a tiny wrinkle from her skirt. “Once, when I told classmates I would meet them on the Champs Elysees at half past three, they went there promptly at noon to wait. I apparently lacked something in my pronunciation.” Margaret reached for Emily’s hand. “How I wish you could see the Rue de Rivoli—so many lovely shops. And the Cathedral of Notre Dame took my breath away.”

“Perhaps someday I will. For now, I’m so happy you’re home…and that you found us in Richmond at your great-aunt’s.”

Annie picked up the narrative. “Papa wrote to say it was time we returned to Virginia. He said we would be safe in the capital of the Confederacy, so he sent money to the school and documents with official stamps in the sealing wax. Sister Maddy took us by train to the port and put us on a ship bound for Baltimore. We could get through the blockade there. We were only delayed twice during the train ride south.” She beamed with pride over her father’s cleverness.

“Mama is glad to have us home,” said Margaret. “She and Aunt Rebecca plan to restore Aunt Harriett’s house to its former beauty. I’ve never seen her with so much energy.” Glancing over her shoulder, she dropped her voice to whisper. “Do you think we’re safe in Richmond, Miss Harrison? We saw some loathsome sights coming from the train station.”

“According to the papers, the Army of Northern Virginia is nearby. Robert E. Lee promises he’ll never let Richmond fall into enemy hands.” Emily cringed at her wording. How could she refer to President Lincoln and the Union Army as the enemy? “We shall trust our future to the Lord and worry not. Now, tell me your plans, Margaret. Will you still make your debut this winter despite the war?”

The young woman’s smile faltered. “Why bother? What kind of social season will there be with the men gone to war?”

“Or dead.” Annie stated the obvious fact everyone had been thinking.

“Hush, now. Don’t speak of such things.” Emily admonished, resuming her role as governess.

“She’s right, Miss Harrison. Who is left to one day ask Papa for
my hand? I will die a spinster, perhaps living in one of the attic rooms above.” Margaret gestured toward the ceiling.

For a brief moment, Emily couldn’t help but pity the girl. Despite poverty and hardship everywhere, Margaret had once looked forward to her first social season with no concerns other than finding suitable gowns for each ball. Or maybe where her future husband would take her to live—city townhouse or country estate?

Margaret’s voice broke into Emily’s woolgathering, “…here I am going on and on when we brought you gifts from Paris.”

Annie scampered into the hall and soon returned with two boxes covered with pastel tissue.

“You shouldn’t have done such a thing. Money is scarce these days and shouldn’t be wasted.” When Margaret’s smile faded again, Emily quickly amended her response. “But since you already have, I can’t wait to see what has sailed across the ocean.”

“Open mine first.” Annie handed her the smaller of the boxes.

Emily tore off the wrappings and extracted a crystal flagon. “A bottle of perfume!” She unscrewed the silver cap and sniffed the stopper. “Oh, my. It’s heavenly.” Emily dabbed her pulse points as Miss Turner had taught her.

“Open my gift,” Margaret said, her face lighting up in anticipation of her governess’s happiness.

Emily undid the ribbons and pulled up layers of tissue. “Books,” she said as her throat clogged with emotion. “The latest works by Alexandre Dumas. I will treasure these.” She lifted one to inspect and then clutched it to her chest. There were six leather embossed volumes, printed on the finest quality velum. “I thank both of you. I’ve never received lovelier gifts.”

Margaret squeezed her hand. “Perhaps you could read aloud to us in the afternoons, the way you did on Bennington Island.”

“I will, whenever I’m not needed elsewhere.” Emily blinked back her tears. “Tell me more about the French because I probably never will go to Europe.”

Margaret happily obliged. “They were very nice but peculiar in
some ways. They ignore most vegetables but eat sweets in vast quantities. They drink red wine with every meal except breakfast, and sip strong coffee from tiny cups.” Her fingers indicated the diminutive size.

Annie shook her head, sending her long curls flying. “One day I asked Madame why she didn’t buy a real cup—one that would hold more. She said that simply wasn’t done.”

“Perhaps you can send her one of ours as a token of your appreciation.” Emily’s suggestion sent the youngest Bennington scurrying from the room.

After watching her go, Margaret turned toward Emily with a somber expression. “I’m so glad you came to Richmond with my parents. I would miss you sorely if you had returned to Ohio.”

Emily drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves. “And I would miss both of you, but someday I must go back. Ohio is my home. It’s where I belong.” The words echoed falsely in her ears. What was left for her there? She had no friends, no family, not even her self-righteous ideals to pack in the valise with her calicos when she floated across the river. She had changed, and now she fit in nowhere and belonged to no one. She could never be a Southerner, yet thanks to Alexander’s influence, she no longer felt like a Yankee.

Margaret graciously changed the subject. “Would you like to see the fabrics we brought from France? We can each have a new dress even if we must sew them ourselves.”

“Of course I would.” Emily forced self-pity from her mind and immersed herself in the girls she’d missed so much. At least it allowed less time to think about Alexander. Nothing in the world could help that particular situation.

“Tea, ladies?” Lila carried in a tray with a pot and cups, and then she stayed for the remainder of the afternoon. The four laughed and shared stories to fill in the gaps in their lives. Emily told about dancing under the stars at the outdoor harvest festival. When Lila provided an amusing pantomime of Emily’s dancing, the Bennington girls laughed until tears streamed down their cheeks. Emily didn’t mind Lila’s reminder of
her awkwardness. But in return, she provided a worthy tableau of Lila swooning after the indomitable William.

“Cousin Alexander’s valet?” Margaret squealed with delight. “Oh, do tell. I love to hear tales of romance. Such talk was strictly forbidden in the convent school.” Margaret leaned toward the group conspiratorially. “One day the headmistress found mention of a single kiss in a poem, and she threw the volume into the fire.”

Annie provided a smacking sound with her lips.

Although she relayed no further details of first kisses or poignant glances across the room, Emily knew where Lila’s heart lay. In Alexander’s absence, William worked as valet to both Mr. Hunt and Dr. Bennington.

No lessons, recitations, or musical skits were held that afternoon in the parlor. Four hearts took simple joy in recalling the past and reconnecting in the present. The future, as uncertain as it was for all of them, could wait.

The young women, still engrossed in their reminiscences, didn’t notice Alexander at first when he stepped into the room. Then Lila spotted him and gasped, followed by Annie, who threw down her sewing and ran toward the doorway. “Alexander! Is it really you? I’ve missed you so!” she cried, wrapping both arms around his waist.

Alexander lifted his younger cousin off her feet, swinging her around in a wide arc. She squealed with delight. “And I’ve missed you.”

Margaret approached when her sister’s feet were no longer a danger. “Welcome home, cousin. One year gone and only a few letters to assure Aunt Rebecca you remained among the living? She will take a switch to you, despite your size and reputation.” She arched up on tiptoes to peck his cheek demurely.

“I’m afraid it couldn’t be helped. My men needed to blend back into their lives quietly. I couldn’t come home until all had done so.”

Even Lila dropped her needlework to pump his hand enthusiastically. “I’m so glad you’re safe, Mr. Hunt.”

Emily had paled to the color of milk but remained in her chair. She sat as motionless as a statue. Once greetings were complete, everyone’s eyes turned toward her.

“Miss Harrison, aren’t you going to welcome Cousin Alexander to Richmond?” asked Margaret.

“Don’t you wish to come get a hug?” Annie asked impishly.

“Have you turned to stone?” Lila inquired.

With her eyes focused on the floor, Emily struggled to find something to say.

“Why don’t we see about a fresh pot of tea while you two get reacquainted?” Margaret moved smoothly toward the door as Lila followed with the tray. But Annie remained in her chair, determined to see what might happen between her cousin and governess.

“Annie, Lila needs both of us to help.” Trilling like a songbird, Margaret dragged her sister from the room by her arm.

“I’m surprised to see you, Miss Harrison.” Alexander waited to speak until they were alone.