And One Wore Gray (46 page)

Once again, she felt his touch, his fingers at her back. One by one, he did up the tiny hooks, then shook the skirt out over the taffeta petticoat. He stood back to study her.

“Would you please put something on?” she hissed.

That drew a smile. “You’ve seen me often enough. Now that we’re about to make this legal, you’re going to find offense?”

She was determined to ignore him. She snatched the skirt from the adjusting touch of his fingers and strode to the long swivel mirror near the door. Her breath caught at the sight of the gown. It had been made for her. It was exquisite. The bodice hugged her breasts. It was not at all decadently low, but it left bare her collarbone and the first hint of the rise of her breasts. The puff sleeves also bared her shoulders. It was cool and sweeping, a perfect dress for the heat of summer. Her hair was nearly copper against the white, damp as it still was.

Her eyes were very wide and her cheeks were flushed. She actually felt beautiful, dressed in the gown.

There was a sharp rap on the door. She jumped as Daniel strode across the room to open it. He had wrapped her discarded bath sheet around his hips. Ben was there with an outfit for Daniel. There were charcoal-gray pinstripe trousers, a red vest, a gray suit coat
with elongated tails. There was a frilled white shirt, a cravat, and even a pair of shining black shoes.

“These should be all right, Colonel Cameron,” Ben told him. “They come from Miz Letty’s oldest boy, Andrew, and he grew to be right near as tall a man as you, Colonel.”

“Thank you, Ben. I’ll see that they’re returned in as good a condition as you’ve given them to me.”

“Colonel Cameron, sir, that won’t matter none. He was killed back at Sharpsburg. His folks would be right proud to hear his clothes were of use to you.”

“Thank you, then,” Daniel said softly.

“Oh!” Ben said, a grin splitting his face once again. “Why, Father Flannery is downstairs. I showed him into the den, and he’s having himself a brandy now. His niece is with him, to witness the ceremony.”

“We’ll be along immediately,” Daniel promised.

He closed the door.

Callie realized that she was really going to get married. She looked at her fingers. They were shaking.

Daniel was already halfway dressed. He needed no help. In seconds he had his cravat tied, his vest buttoned, every piece of his outfit perfectly adjusted. He winced as he slipped on the shoes. “A little small,” he murmured. “But then …”

He stared at Callie. She had been watching him in the mirror.

“Callie,” he nearly growled, “we need to get down there.”

She glanced at her own reflection in the mirror again. Her hair was still damp against her head. She couldn’t possibly dry it in time, but she could at least brush it.

She turned quickly to find her shoes, but when she did so, she paused, biting her lip. They had been good shoes, serviceable shoes. But now they appeared as rough and worn as burned lumber. They seemed a
travesty against the beauty of her dress and the white silk stockings.

“Shoes!” Daniel moaned. “I forgot all about shoes.” He shrugged. “Forget them for now. No one will see your feet.” He strode quickly across the room, plucking a brush from a dressing table. Before Callie could move he was behind her again, pulling the brush through her hair.

“I can do it myself!” she protested, and he gave her the brush. She could still see him in the mirror. Maybe she couldn’t do it herself. Her fingers were still trembling. He was dashing in the civilian dress clothing, so lean, so dark, so fluid still in his movement. The gray, black, and red enhanced his dark good looks. The outfit might have been tailored specifically for him.

“Give it to me!” he commanded, taking the brush back from her fingers, and making quick work with the length of her hair.

“You’re awfully good with hair too,” Callie commented.

“Experience,” he said briefly.

She inhaled swiftly, nervously longing to slap him. His eyes were sharp when they met hers in the mirror. He tossed the brush back to the dresser and took her elbow. “Let’s go. We can’t keep Flannery waiting.”

He was walking so swiftly it seemed that he dragged her along. “Slow down!” she commanded.

“Move faster,” he replied.

She stubbed her shoeless toe on the first step. She wasn’t accustomed to the huge hoop, and she had difficulty just managing to stay on the stairway with him.

But Father Flannery, white haired and very grave, was awaiting them now at the foot of the stairs, a young, brown-haired girl at his side. Callie refrained from making any comments to Daniel.

“Father, thank you for coming,” Daniel told him.

“Weil, Colonel, I must tell you, I disapprove of this
haste. I understand, however, sir, that you have been delayed by battle after battle, and so here I am. Sir, you are, I fear, at least better late than never.”

“Right,” Daniel said briefly. “Shall we get started.” He looked at Callie. “My love?”

“Of course. If both parties are of age and entering into this sacrament willingly?”

Callie suddenly couldn’t speak. Daniel squeezed her fingers so hard she nearly yelped. “Yes. My love,” she squeezed out. Father Flannery turned to give them all room at the foot of the stairs. Callie stared at Daniel. “Bastard!” she hissed.

He smiled serenely. His grip was still upon her and he pulled her close, whispering. “The bastard you are about to promise to love, honor, and obey.”

“I don’t love you.”

“I’m merely shooting for two out of three, and the last two will do nicely.”

“Is there a problem?” Father Flannery demanded, turning back to them.

“Not at all,” Daniel said. “Would you like to begin?”

Flannery gazed at them both sternly, then sighed. “All right, then. Your name, young woman.”

“Calliope McCauley Michaelson.”

Daniel swung around and stared at her. Flannery began flipping the pages in his book.

“Calliope?” Daniel whispered.

She shrugged. “My father was very fond of the circus.”

He was smirking. She was about to get married, and the groom was smirking.

Flannery settled on a page in his prayer book and began to read from it. She heard the words—they seemed to drone on and on. It was a good thing that Father Flannery had never desired to make his life’s vocation drama, she determined, for she had never
imagined anyone could make a wedding service more dull or dry.

Perhaps it was her. Her fingers were ice cold. She felt numb from head to toe.

She wasn’t sure that they could really be doing this. It was a wedding. When it was over, she would really be Daniel’s wife.

Even so, she would know how he felt. Property. A wife was property. He would do whatever he chose. And she would, indeed, be trapped in a southern prison.

“Callie!”

They were all staring at her, waiting. She was supposed to speak. To give her vow. She couldn’t do it. She loved him.

He nearly broke the bones in her fingers once again. She must have shrieked out something that sounded like “I do!,” because Flannery was droning on and on again.

Then Daniel was slipping his pinkie signet ring over her middle finger, and Flannery was pronouncing them man and wife.

It was done. There was a flicker of fire in his eyes, and she realized that the bars had, indeed, just closed upon her own private hell.

His lips touched hers. Briefly. He turned from her and thanked Flannery and promised that he would send support to the church as soon as he reached home. Ben managed to produce champagne, and Flannery seemed willing enough to share a glass with them. He allowed his young niece a glass, too, and then announced that the papers had to be signed. Callie found herself writing out her name, and then realized that it was different again.

She was a Cameron.

And theirs was, indeed, a house divided.

She managed to write out her name. Just as she finished
doing so, she heard a wailing and swung around, feeling a tingling in her breasts. Jared! Ben was bringing the baby forward. He’d been bathed and dressed in a fine bleached white cotton shirt.

For the first time in his short little life, she had forgotten her son.

Forgotten him for the wedding that was taking place because of him.

“Thank you, Father Flannery,” she said hastily. Ignoring her husband of a matter of seconds, she took Jared gratefully from Ben, and ran up the stairs with him to the bedroom that had been given them.

She closed the door and sat at the foot of the bed with the baby, struggling with the tight gown to free her breast. Once the baby was situated, she began to tremble again, thinking about what she had done.

She had married Daniel. She was committed to him now. No, she had been committed to him since she had decided to follow him home. No, that had been a commitment to Jared.

He had made her no promises. What would their marriage be? She had asked to be left alone. He would never leave her alone. She was property; he had said so.

She shivered and realized she shivered because she did not know what she wanted from him. Yes, she wanted him to demand everything from her.

But she wanted something too. His love, unconditional. The kind that would allow him to trust her.

There was a tapping on the door. She jumped, staring at it. Daniel? Would he knock? Or would he merely burst in?

“Callie, we’ll leave here in ten minutes for supper with Varina. Be ready, please.”

It was Daniel. He had spoken politely. It had also been with an implacable authority.

It was the way he had always spoken, she told herself.

No, something was very different. He had married her. And he expected two out of three. Honor and obey.

Jared suddenly sputtered and coughed. Callie swept him up on her shoulder and stood, walking nervously with him as she patted his back. He let out a startling burp for such a tiny being, and she laughed and sat again, stretching him out on her lap. “Just what can he really expect, my love, eh? He married a Yankee. And really, I haven’t Obeyed’ anyone since Pa …” Her voice trailed away.

She leapt up. Her ten minutes had to be just about up.

She paused, feeling the hard wood beneath her stockinged feet. She still had no shoes.

Well, it was summer; her feet wouldn’t freeze. But there was so much mud and dust in the road.

“Callie!”

He called her from downstairs. Her old shoes were too worn and filthy to possibly be on her feet while she wore this dress. She bit into her lip once, then went flying out of the room.

He was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. His eyes swept over her and he let out a grunt, as if voicing a grudging approval.

“Let’s go. Ben will be taking us in the Lunt’s carriage.” He hesitated. “You could leave Jared with Cissy.”

She shook her head vehemently. “He might—need me,” she said. Actually, that night, she needed Jared. And she hadn’t come from his kind of money. She wasn’t accustomed to leaving her baby behind.

It was a brief ride back to the White House of the Confederacy. Night had come, and the house was lit against it and seemed very beautiful as they approached.
There were other carriages arriving, and guests coming on foot. Once again, they came in by the pleasant foyer. Varina, gracious and beautiful, greeted them. This time they moved through that central door into a very gracious parlor.

The women there seemed to dazzle, Callie thought. They all sat so beautifully, or stood with such grace, their hair swept up, their fans moving like hummingbird’s wings against the heat of the night.

They all seemed to know one another. And Daniel.

They flocked around him, talking about the war, demanding to know about this battle or that, then whispering that, of course, they didn’t really want to hear.

They were ladies, after all.

They spoke softly, with lovely, cultured drawls, ignoring Callie at first, then trying very hard to appear well bred and not stare too pointedly once Varina had managed to introduce her as Daniel’s wife.

Callie felt as if her teeth had been permanently glued into a mask, but to Daniel’s credit, he seemed totally unaware of the adulation that had come his way. They were quickly parted, but each time she looked across the room, she found his eyes upon her, cool and speculative.

“Why are you staring so?” she whispered when she had a chance.

“I’m just hoping that no one spills any of the big secrets of the Confederacy while you’re here,” he whispered back.

“How very amusing.”

“It’s not amusing at all. At the moment, it seems that we’re doing a very good job of losing the war without your help.”

He moved on. A blonde caught his arm. She felt a strident pang of jealousy. A dashing young man with a sweeping mustache, dressed in uniform that had surely never seen any duty, struck up a conversation with Callie,
assuming that she knew all about Daniel’s Tidewater home. She smiled and murmured now and then, and that seemed enough.

One buxom brunet cooed over the baby, but a moment later Callie heard a whisper behind her back that such an infant should have been left with its nanny. Callie didn’t care as long as Varina seemed so delighted with Jared.

Daniel introduced her to two men in uniform, a Major Tomlinson and a Lieutenant Prosky. When she turned, she heard the major speak to his wife.

“My Lord, but he did find a stunning bride!”

“Find? But that’s just it dear, where did he find her?” his wife replied. “I know nothing of her, or her family. Does anyone know anything about her?”

Callie felt as if her ears were burning. Daniel had been swept away by the lieutenant. She had never felt so very alone, surrounded by so many people.

And all of them Rebs.

The creme de la creme of Rebs, at that!

A soft hand fell on her arm, and she was looking into the warm and beautiful eyes of Varina Davis. “Come, Mrs. Cameron, let me show you the house. The dining room is there, of course, to the left of the foyer. Now, these rooms here you see, the one we’re in and the one to the right, can be separated by those doors. Pocket doors. They’re so very clever, don’t you think? We can break the house up when we’re alone, and open it up like this for such an occasion as tonight. It’s a wonderful house. We were so grateful that the city should give it to us. I’ve enjoyed Richmond and the Virginians tremendously. Jeff was inaugurated in Alabama, of course, but I’ve very much loved this place.”