Emma Barry (3 page)

She swallowed and added more quietly, “We fought about everything. John Brown in particular.”

She paused to laugh. Not with mirth but anxiety. The country had become an angry, distrustful, and immoderate place in the two years since her break with Theo. Following the radical abolitionist John Brown’s hanging and President Lincoln’s election, many of the southern states had departed the Union in a terrible drumbeat, one after another. Shots had been fired on Fort Sumter in April, and forces were now gathering in Washington City, for what she knew not. Tides of uncertainty and fear soaked the land. The violence she had abhorred at Harper’s Ferry seemed poised to drown them all.

Finally, she turned back to the girl and finished her tale. “He felt I nagged him. That together we would know no peace. And so we parted.”

The words, and everything they represented, hung in the air for a moment. Rebecca asked, “That’s why you’ve stayed so long at the seminary? Was there never anyone else?”

Margaret’s hands swept up to press against her forehead. “I never expected there to be anyone at all. I was a poor orphan educated by the kindness of distant relatives. I became a teacher because I had to. When I met Mr. Ward, I thought my chance at love had passed. I was more than a decade on the shelf. When that ended, I had no interest in finding anyone else. Once was rare and strange enough.”

“But you told me — ”

Rising to her feet, Margaret said, “The situations are not the same: you are nineteen and I am thirty-seven. Romantic love is a young woman’s dream, Rebecca. I no longer find it appealing.”

The girl smiled. “I, however, saw the way he looked at you.” From inside the assembly room, the bright tones of the band tuning up floated to them. “Come now, let’s return.”

At the door, they encountered Theo. Rebecca curtseyed slightly and said, “Mr. Ward, I deliver your partner.”

Theo looked Margaret straight in the eye and replied, “I thank you,” offering her his hand. When she took it, she shuddered, despite the two layers of cloth between them. If he felt it, nothing in his expression betrayed anything but calmness and confidence.

He led her to the floor as if it hadn’t been two years since they had last danced. Those months, and what had caused them, were impossible to forget, however.

When his arm encircled her waist, she looked past his shoulder, training her eyes on the bunting that iced the room. His smell, like spice and linen, hadn’t changed. She felt weak and hot all over.

The band struck up a lilting waltz, and they joined the other couples in spinning through the space. Her body followed his cues in an intimate, disconcerting manner. He was a powerful and graceful dancer, as he had ever been. Margaret felt bereft by her body’s answer to his call even years later.

Finally, in the deep, rumbly baritone that she remembered so well, he spoke, “There’s a good assembly present this evening.”

“Indeed.”

“Are those some of your students?”

“Yes.”

A pause followed her reply. This was going to be a long dance.

When Theo made no motion to fill the silence, Margaret asked at last, “How does your mother fare?”

“Well. She’s been in good health of late and has become involved with the Ladies’ Aid Society. It turns out that she too enjoys ’causes.’” That was a jab at his mother, who had always mocked and belittled his interests in reform.

“And how are things with your practice?”

“As they ever were.”

“I’m always surprised when the slates of candidates are announced to never see your name on a ticket, Mr. Ward.” She could feel his shoulder tense beneath his jacket. She shifted her gaze and looked into his dark blue eyes. They were harsh and probing.

“Perhaps someday,” he replied at last.

“I remember how strongly you felt about — well, every social and political question.”

“Yes?”

“So how do you judge our current enterprise?”

Theo sighed. “Might I not enjoy a pleasant conversation without stating my opinion on the war?”

“By all means, Mr. Ward. I wouldn’t want to ruin your evening with anything so weighty as conversation.” For a moment they glared at one another. Then Margaret returned her attention to the wall. As they spun once more, Theo pulled her closer into his arms.

“Margaret,” he whispered with such fervency that she inclined her head to look at him in surprise.

“Mr. Ward, please don’t — ”

“How have you been?”

“Good, fair, ill. In the last twenty months, I’ve been through all the moods in turn.” Margaret was annoyed and felt certain her words betrayed it, but the expression in Theo’s eyes left her dazzled and numb. She forgot to put a respectable distance between them again. He pulled her closer still.

“Mr. Ward, I really must object,” she hissed.

“Don’t object. See me again. This coming week.”

“I cannot. Commencement is on Thursday. I have so many obligations.”

“Are you traveling this summer?”

“No.”

“Because you usually go to see your sister in Virginia, but can’t because of the uncertainty?” Margaret nodded. “Next Saturday then. Meet me at Ferree’s. After luncheon.”

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t.”

“But you will?”

Every thread of her being was at attention, flush with concern. They were entering a space dangerous to them both. But her heart’s curiosity won out. She said, “I will … if you answer one question.”

A warm smile settled over Theo’s features and he replied, “Most assuredly.”

That smile! She could feel it like a caress running down her body from crown to toe. But she would not let him distract her thus. She asked, “Why did you ask me to dance?”

“Because I saw you and couldn’t put you from my mind,” he said, as if it were the most natural and uncontroversial thing in the world.

“But why now?”

“That’s two questions.”

It was as if he had cast a spell over her. She could not look away. Margaret knew they were much too close. With the heat of the crowd and the intensity of Theo’s eyes, long-dead memories came thronging back to her. She remember when he first pulled her into his arms, in a dark hallway off the Smith’s parlor, and pressed his lips to hers. It was a brief kiss. Artless, compared to some they would later share. Oh, but she had thought she might expire from happiness. Theo Ward wanted her. Loved
her
.

She felt a blush creep into her cheeks at the thought, mirroring the flush on his face. Was he remembering the same moment? This was madness.

Somehow her feet produced the right steps. Somehow they avoided colliding with other couples. Somehow she restrained herself from committing any more serious breach of decorum. When the dance was finished, they clapped politely and Theo offered her his arm to lead her from the floor. When they reached the edge, he took her hand and stared down at it for a long moment. He raised it to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

Theo murmured, “Why now? Because it’s time.” He pressed her hand to his mouth firmly a second time before releasing it and then whispering, “Until next Saturday, Miss Hampton.”

After Thursday’s dreary commencement ceremony, which had been overshadowed by fears about the war, Margaret said farewell to her students. She had given her life to the raising of other people’s children, taking young girls in hand and teaching them they could be so much more than they believed. At first, they needed her for companionship, for advice, for instruction, and for censure. Over time, she would teach them to trust their inner voice. Then they would fly off and leave her.

Her friendships with her students were intense and powerful and then were over. After graduation, her services were no longer necessary. The initial flood of letters would slow to a trickle and then stop entirely. Now, as she gathered with Rebecca, Phoebe, and Matilda in the parlor of the seminary for a private moment, she wanted this trio to defy her experience and remain in her life, if only as a change of pace.

The girls were talking over their summer plans. Matilda was returning to Washington City to keep house for her father. Rebecca was going to her family farm outside of Hagerstown, Maryland. And Phoebe would return to her family in New York.

The latter was full of anticipation to see the summer fashions and the grand ladies strolling in the Central Park. She was particularly concerned as to whether the rational silhouettes, as she termed them, would ever give way to more daring designs.

“I shall write you all with my notes,” Phoebe was saying, “for I know you want to stay
au courant
no matter where we all are come fall.”

“Do you think we won’t be together, Phe?” Rebecca asked gravely.

“If we can whip the Rebs by fall, I’ll be back with Miss Hampton, but you and Matilda won’t be returning on any account. If the fighting continues, my father wants me at home until it’s over. It’s so silly. The war will never reach Middletown.”

Margaret looked out over the gardens beyond the window. She hoped rather than believed the girl was correct. The unspoken wish charged the air between the four of them. Even Phoebe’s tone seemed forced, as if she were trying to make it so through sheer force of humor.

“Since we didn’t hear from you at commencement, will you give us a benediction now?” Matilda asked.

Margaret smiled. “I will tell you what I wish for each of you. For Rebecca, I desire to see you put away the sadness that has entered your heart. I miss the jolly that tempered your seriousness. Set Emery aside once and forever. Be our Rebecca again.” The girl looked at her, eyes gleaming, and nodded.

“For Phoebe, I hope you will learn humility. It’s not that you don’t recognize it, my dear, but that you do not act on it. I wish you would live the virtues you know to be true and right.” Phoebe grimaced, unconvinced and accepting at once. It was not her accustomed expression, but then she grinned playfully and balance was restored.

“For Matilda, I wish rebellion.” All three Girls’ eyes snapped up at that now-charged word. “Playfulness is a better term, maybe,” Margaret offered. Turning back to Matilda, she said, “You’re perfectly biddable, submissive, and reverent. But I would see you know what
you
want and pursue it.” The girl contemplated her fingertips, finally inclining her head slightly to acknowledge the words.

Margaret concluded, “To the class of eighteen sixty-one, and one member of the class of eighteen sixty-two, then, I wish happiness, modesty, self-knowledge, and discovery. May God bless you all the days of your lives.”

They exited the building then, into a world of carriages, bustle, and noise. Rebecca embraced her and whispered in her ear, “Miss Hampton, my wish for you is for greater faith in yourself and a revival of your belief in love.”

Over the next two days, Margaret pondered those words for hours at a time. Was this wisdom or naiveté?

When she could not decide, she contemplated skipping her assignation with Theo. What good could result from it? At best it would be pleasant but painful. At worst … well, Margaret was not sure which outcome was the worst. The rekindling of shallowly buried feelings? Rejection? Heartbreak?

She wanted fervently to believe in what had been written in Theo’s eyes when they had danced. Perhaps he was finally prepared to change. He always seemed to acknowledge that he needed to. He had said to her more than once that his mother held too much sway over his actions and that his comportment and values were not in accord. He could never seem, however, to do anything about it.

On Saturday afternoon, even as she walked along Main Street toward Ferree’s, Margaret wasn’t sure whether she would go in. Perhaps he would be wise for both of them and fail to appear. But when she looked in the large, plate glass window, there he was.

He fidgeted with his waistcoat, his body tense and ill at ease. He finally managed to settle his hands, but then his foot started to tap out a rhythm on the floor. His insecurity and vulnerability sent an aching chill through her body, inculcating hope where there had previously been none. The dull nervousness that had been cocooning her squeezed her shoulders. The stakes were so high. Perhaps she should leave before he noticed her.

At that moment, Theo turned and saw her, his mouth breaking into a wide smile. She entered and decided the best course of action — that which left them open to the least scrutiny — was to feign that she had unexpectedly encountered an old friend. But even as she began the act, Margaret knew this was the worst of all possible outcomes for them both. He was smitten and joyful. She was wary yet hopeful. How would they hurt one another this time?

“Miss Hampton,” he said a bit too loudly. “I say! Would you like to sit and join me for an ice cream?” Margaret stifled a giggle and assented.

After she settled herself he said, “How have you been?” leaning too close and putting too much warmth in his voice.

“Well. And you?”

He paused and smiled at her. “Ah, the first decision of the conversation. Do I answer honestly or congenially?”

“We are long past congeniality, don’t you think?”

“So far past that I thought perhaps we had come to a new frontier of it. Perhaps propriety has been reestablished?”

“Oh, no. Once it has been left behind, one can’t return to it.”

“Where are we then? Intimacy?”

“Surely you won’t press a lady for an answer to so … encumbered a question?”

He shook his head, but his eyes disagreed. “I won’t force you to label it intimacy, but that is what it is. At least here and now, call me Theo.”

Margaret arched a brow at him and asked again, “How have you been, honestly,
Theo
?”

“I’m frustrated,
Margaret
. I feel like my life has been a series of compromises and now, when at last I might be able to achieve something and to act on my principles, I can only do so by hurting someone I love.”

That was provocative. He did see the heart of the problem in his life. But recognizing it and knowing how to change were not the same. Did he know how to rectify the flaw?

She asked, “In what way?”

“If it were up to me, I would’ve enlisted months ago, but Mother … ”