And One Wore Gray (44 page)

Daniel didn’t reply. The butler was now taking a closer look at both of them, staring at Callie’s worn shoes and getting a full view of a dusty, travel-stained skirt. He swallowed. “Yessir, you and your lady come on in.”

Daniel thanked him and they came into a handsome foyer with statuettes in niches on either side of the main entry into the house. The fine hardwood floor was covered with a thick paper matting in an attractive pattern, set there to protect the floor from the hundreds of feet that must surely pass over it every day. The walls were covered with a beautiful papering that made them appear to be marble.

The butler disappeared ahead of them. A doorway to the right, slightly ajar, led to an immense dining room. The doorway to Callie’s left was closed, but the main doorway before her suddenly burst open, and a beautiful woman with haunting dark eyes came through.

“Daniel!”

Her voice was soft, gracious, melodious. She was not a young girl, but a mature woman, probably in her middle to late thirties, Callie thought. She had seldom seen a woman more beautiful.

Or clean, she added, in comparison to herself.

Her skirts rustled with her every movement. Her day dress was demure, cut nearly to the throat. It was a dove gray and shimmering silver, enhanced by rows of fine black embroidered lace. Her hair was neatly confined to a net at the back of her head, and despite the heat of the day, she appeared remarkably cool and poised.

She hugged Daniel. He caught her hands and kissed both of her cheeks.

“Daniel, you’ve come back from Gettysburg!” she whispered. “Was it as horrible as they say? Oh, dear Lord, what am I asking you? Of course it was horrible, wretched, terrible. But my poor old Banny, so many don’t see it, but he dies just a little bit with every soldier out there! Now Vicksburg has fallen too.”

Her voice trailed away as she looked past Daniel and saw Callie. If she thought anything at all of Callie’s
pathetic appearance, she was too well bred to give any sign. “I am so very, very sorry!” She broke away from Daniel and stretched out her hands to Callie. “I am Varina Davis, child, and you appear exhausted. And you’ve a baby! Please, may I take him?”

The beautiful woman in her crisp elegant clothing swept the baby into her arms, not seeming to notice that his bundling was as dirty as everything else about Callie and Daniel.

Varina Davis took one look at the baby and then not even her immense poise could hide her surprise. “Daniel! Oh, but the war does strange things to people. You’ve married and had this precious child!” Jared started to whimper and Callie had to fight the impulse to snatch him back. She didn’t need to. Varina Davis laughed and set him over her shoulder, patting his back, and he quieted. “Daniel, you must be trying to get your baby and bride home.”

Callie waited, holding her breath, wondering if Daniel would blithely mentioned that he hadn’t bothered to marry his child’s mother.

She thought about mentioning it herself. She opened her mouth to do so, thinking that Daniel deserved whatever she chose to say.

But her mouth closed, for she discovered that no matter what her anger for Daniel, she was entranced with Varina Davis. The lady was truly the heart of the Confederacy, Callie thought. And if the Rebs were her enemies, no one could be more so than this woman, wife of the Confederate president. But she was charming, and she was caring. In her voice was all her passion for the men who had died—and all of her concern and empathy for her Banny. Just a few short years ago—before the war, before secession—Jefferson Davis had been the secretary of war for the United States, and he had been a fairly well-known man. His reputation was that of a cold, hard, unyielding man, one with little
charm. And yet, if this woman loved him so deeply, there had to be something good, something warm, about him.

“You all look exhausted and famished!” Varina said. “I’ve some ladies from the hospital league in the drawing room; come in, please, and join us. They’ll all be so delighted to see Daniel, and soon I can be alone—”

“No!” Callie gasped. She realized quickly how rude she had sounded, and she apologized quickly. “I’m so sorry, it’s just that we really can’t come in.” She moistened her lips. That her simple homespun cotton could never compare with the elegance of Varina’s dress didn’t bother her. Before the war, her family hadn’t been rich, but they hadn’t been poor, and Pa had always told them that the measure of a man or a woman wasn’t in the gold in his pocket, but in the way he felt inside. She had never been intimidated by silk, satin, or wealth.

She was somewhat intimidated here, though. Not by Varina’s elegance, but by her poise and her heart. She had never felt more shabby in her life.

“Mrs. Davis, truly, I couldn’t possibly come farther into your home than I am now.”

“I’m desperate for a room, Varina,” Daniel told her. “Richmond has gone insane, it seems. I cannot get a room anywhere.”

“Of course!” Varina murmured. “Stay here, I shall be right back.”

She smiled, surrendered Jared back to Callie, and disappeared into the parlor for a minute.

“How could you bring us here!” Callie hissed to Daniel.

“You said that you—”

“But to bring us here!”

“Sad place for a Yank, eh?” he murmured. He bent closer. “Jeff receives his official visitors upstairs. If
there is anything you wish to plan against the Union, that’s the place where you should be.”

“It would serve you right if I were a full-fledged spy!” she retorted.

“I must admit, I have given the idea some thought,” he said with a slight bow.

She would have replied, except that Varina was returning, stepping back through the doorway into the foyer. She smiled radiantly at Daniel. “Well, Daniel, we’re all set. Lucretia Marby is in the parlor and just as I thought, her sister’s house is empty, what with Letty and her husband striving so diligently for our cause in England. You know the place, Daniel, it’s the brick Gunner Estate. And you know the people, of course. Gerald and Letty Lunt. You’ve been there for parties, I’m quite certain. Ben, Letty’s house servant, is there, and will see to your needs.” She passed Daniel a note. “Just hand him this note. He does read, so you’ll have no difficulties.”

“Thank you, Varina,” Daniel told her. “Very much.”

He kissed her cheek. She smiled again. “I’ll expect to see you before you leave. And that beautiful baby of yours.” She took Callie’s hand. Her grip was warm and firm. “It’s been a pleasure, dear. If you grow weary at that old plantation of Daniel’s, come back to Richmond.” She sighed softly. “We’ll put you to work!”

“Thank you,” Callie told her. Varina withdrew, and she turned as Daniel took her elbow and led her back out of the foyer. People were hurrying down the walk to reach the house even as they left it; women who nodded cordially, men who tipped their hats.

They reached the wagon and Daniel lifted her into it. “You were very well behaved,” he told her pleasantly.

“Spies need to be,” she told him sweetly. He arched a brow, but didn’t take the bait. When he was seated again, and flipped the reins, she studied him. “Do all
Confederate colonels know the president and his wife so well?”

He glanced her way. “My mother was from Mississippi. From near Varina’s home. Their families were friends. But the door to the house is nearly always open. They entertain frequently. Jefferson is not nearly so rigid as he is often made out to be; he is an excellent husband, an adoring father. And Varina …” He paused for a moment. “I think that she is the greatest lady I have ever met.”

Callie listened to the gentleness in his voice, to the note of reverence in it. He would never, never speak so kindly of her, she was certain, and for some reason, she was hurt.

The wagon turned a corner. “Here we are,” Daniel commented.

They had come to a large, Federal-style brick house with a broad porch. Daniel reined in the wagon and lifted Callie down with the baby, and urged her up the walk and steps. He knocked quickly at the door, and it was answered by a very tall black man in gold-and-black livery. A bright white smile quickly lit across his features. “Why, Colonel Cameron.”

“Hello, Ben,” Daniel said, passing him the note. “We’ve come for the night. I hope we’re not too great an inconvenience to the household.”

Ben looked from their weary faces to the note, quickly scanning it. “You didn’t need no note, Colonel. You know you’re always welcome in this house,” he chastised. “Colonel, Mrs. Cameron, please come right in. You just tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

They entered an elegant, marble-floored foyer with ceilings that seemed to touch the sky.

Callie stared about, awed despite her best intentions. This was a room for the night?

“What would you like, Callie? A nap?” Daniel suggested.

She looked at Ben. “A bath. With steaming water. Please.”

“Just as you say, ma’am. It will steam like a kettle, I swear it! Cissy!” Ben called out. He smiled at Callie. “Cissy sure does love little ones. She’ll bathe him and fix him up right as rain, with your permission, ma’am.”

Cissy entered the room. She was round and plump, with a broad smile. Callie wished that she could curl into the woman’s arms right along with the baby.

“I don’t need long—” Callie began.

“Oh, he’s a precious one!” Cissy crooned. “You go right on, ma’am.” Cissy turned to walk away with the baby. Ben clapped his hands and a few boys appeared, tall, wiry youths. He quickly ordered that Miz Letty’s big tin tub be filled upstairs in the guest room, then he told Callie that he would show her to the room. Daniel excused himself, saying that he was going to the den, and would help himself to brandy.

After the days on the road, the house was like a buffer of soft cotton. Following Ben up the stairway, Callie was afraid to touch the bannisters. She hated to walk on the crimson carpeting.

When she reached the guest room, her eyes went first to the huge bed with its beautiful quilt. She would sleep on that tonight, she thought, and the very idea of it seemed to be a promise of heaven.

The tub arrived in the room, and then bucket after bucket of steaming water. A young black girl arrived with soap and a cloth and a heavy bath sheet. At long last, she was left alone. She touched the water, and it was steaming, so warm it almost scorched the flesh. It was just what she wanted.

She peeled away her clothing with haste, heedless of where it fell, and crawled into the tub. She almost cried out, but the warmth evened out, and it was delicious. She waited a moment, then sank low into the water, soaking her hair.

She breathed in the soap, then scrubbed it furiously over her body, working the lather into her hair. She rinsed, soaped herself and her hair again, and then sank back, resting her head on the rim of the tub, and simply luxuriating in the feel of being clean.

She could have lain there forever.

Downstairs, Daniel poured himself a large brandy from Gerald’s desk-side bar. He swallowed the first one quickly, then poured himself another. This he sipped, slowly savoring the taste. He rolled the glass in his hands. Despite the blockade, the Lunts seemed to be faring well enough. He had heard that Lunt had financed a blockade runner, and that while the ship was bringing in its share of medicines and the more necessary implements of a war-torn society, the ship was also bringing in fashions and colognes and soaps from France from which a tremendous profit was being made. Wars could break men. They could also make them rich.

He set the brandy glass down, noticing that his fingers weren’t quite steady. At the moment, he was grateful that Gerald Lunt was doing well. He was desperately hungry, and someone was in the kitchen fixing him a dinner of fried chicken, potatoes, turnip greens, and black-eyed peas. Callie had wanted a bath first. He’d wanted to eat. He’d been so careful never to let her see how hungry he had been while they traveled.

He sat back in a leather armchair. He still wanted to throttle her. Now more so than ever. But he hadn’t been able to stand watching her in any physical distress. It had hurt to see her hungry; it had hurt worse to watch her shiver in the night. Especially once he had discovered that he dared not go near her.

Dear Lord, he wanted her still! Nothing had been quenched by touching her.

Was she as innocent as she claimed? Maybe his anger had seized hold of his mind. He still couldn’t trust
her completely, but doubts as to his own righteousness had set in.

Why was he so damned torn, thinking one moment that he cradled a viper to his breast, and finding the very next second that he could still think of nothing but her. Maybe she was innocent—and he was a fool. He dreamed now night and day of touching her again, dreamed of the way she had looked rising from the water, droplets gliding along the curves of her body, that sheer garment of hers hugging everything that he longed to touch. He hadn’t thought that morning, not for a single minute. He had just walked out to take what he wanted.

She was the greatest glory he had ever known.

He raised his brandy glass again. “Angel!” he whispered.

The door opened. Ben brought in a plate of food. The aromas were mouth watering. The tray, with its steaming coffee and well-seasoned food, was set before him on Gerald Lunt’s cherry-wood desk.

“How’s that, Colonel?”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Ben, I don’t think that I’ve seen anything quite so wonderful-looking in my whole life.”

Ben laughed. “Get on with you, sir! Why, that little boy of yours has to be the most wonderful thing you’ve ever seen. He’s your spittin’ image, sir, that’s what he is.”

Daniel looked up sharply. “He is, isn’t he?”

“A boy to be proud of, sir!”

Yes, he was. Jared was wonderful. Daniel drummed his fingers over the desk, watching Ben. “How is—my wife?”

“Sir, she seems just as pleased as if she’s gone to heaven with all the angels! She’s a right fine lady you’ve found yourself, Colonel.”

Daniel grunted.

“And she sure done give you one beautiful boy, sir!”

Yes, she had done that. It seemed that she hadn’t even intended to tell him about Jared, but that didn’t really matter. Not now. He had his son.