The Lady and the Officer (25 page)

Elliott spent Christmas Day at home with his father, brother, and a few elderly slaves too old to leave when Lincoln issued his proclamation. Elliott's home more closely resembled a backwoods farm than the impressive plantation it once had been. But he cared naught about the broken fences, fallow fields, dying apple trees, and empty tobacco curing barns. Huge hogsheads once lined the wharf, awaiting shipment overseas or to other parts of the country. Flavored with sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, or honey, Haywood tobacco plugs were the best in the county. A soldier could cut a slice from his plug, rub it to loosen the delicate leaves, and fill his pipe. Considering the quality of army rations, the evening smoke became a man's sole pleasure.

The Haywood holiday dinner consisted of several rabbits Robert snared along the river, with stringy sweet potatoes, and unpalatable baked apples. But Elliott cared little about food during his three days at home. He dutifully listened to his father's reminiscences about the past and mediated squabbles between his father and brother. When Elliott returned to Richmond, he felt ambivalent about the family left behind.

Tonight, New Year's Eve, he would dine and dance at the Duncan mansion, and he would see Mrs. Howard—something that made him happy indeed.

Elliott climbed into the Penrod carriage for the ride to the Duncans' in a far better mood than he'd been in for days. During the short drive to Forsythia Lane, Joseph entertained him with amusing stories. Apparently, Miss Duncan had made quite an impression on the elder Penrods, and not all of it was beneficial. Yet Joseph was utterly enchanted with the woman. Elliott knew all about attraction exceeding the bounds of practicality or common sense.

The Duncans' butler, dressed in full livery, met them at the front door. “Good evening, sirs. The family awaits you in the parlor.” Micah bowed and then accepted their overcoats.

“Thank you, my good man.” Major Penrod placed his top hat atop the pile on Micah's arm and strode through the open double doors.

Elliott paused a moment to take in the scene and was rewarded for his patience. Mrs. Howard stood at the top landing wearing a long gown that accentuated curves only alluded to until now. “By my word,” he said.

“Oh, dear, I told Aunt Clarisa this dress was too much, but she insisted I wear it.” Mrs. Howard came down the stairs resembling a doe ready to bolt at the first sound of gunfire.

Elliott stared with blatant admiration. “You are unquestionably the most beautiful woman in the world.”

She burst out laughing, an unanticipated reaction. “Goodness, Colonel Haywood. If you mean that sincerely, you
must
broaden your scope of acquaintances.” She accepted his outstretched gloved hand for the final two steps.

“I stand by my opinion, and I'll have you know I've traveled on three continents.” He kissed the back of her gloved fingers.

“But what of Miss Duncan?” Mrs. Howard turned to watch Eugenia descend the staircase. “I think she's never looked lovelier.”

“Well, Colonel Haywood, what say you?” Eugenia paused dramatically on the steps to giggle behind her fan.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Duncan. You look equally stunning. Will you favor me with a waltz tonight?”

“A waltz you shall have, as long as Major Penrod can bear my absence for so long a time.” Eugenia dropped into a curtsey as Penrod materialized next to Elliott.

“Perhaps a reel, but not a waltz. Haywood might turn scoundrel and try to win your heart.” Placing Eugenia's hand on his arm, Penrod led her into the drawing room, where the orchestra's first strains could be heard.

Elliott faced Mrs. Howard. “Whew, that was close. I feared Penrod might challenge me to a duel.”

“You recovered nicely, Colonel, but would you have accepted his challenge?”

“Certainly not. Dueling has been outlawed. The Confederacy can't afford to lose a single man. Shall we, Mrs. Howard?”

When she took his arm, Elliott led her into the unrecognizable parlor. Most of the furniture had been removed, the rugs rolled up, and the floors polished to a high gloss. Dozens of tapers burned from window sills and two crystal chandeliers, lending the effect of dancing light and shadow. Cut pine boughs and garlands of holly berries added a festive feel.

“Lovely, isn't it? Aunt Clarisa borrowed every maid in the neighborhood to help decorate and serve. People were more than willing to share members of their household staff in exchange for an invitation.” Mrs. Howard leaned close to his ear. “I hope we don't run out of food. Let's wander through the crowd and check the buffet on the far side.”

Her whisper in his ear buoyed his confidence like a tonic. Elliott smelled the lemon verbena on her skin and thought he might swoon. “As you wish,” he said.

They worked their way around the edge of the dance floor, where officers and ladies flirted in small clusters. Couples shared secrets at tables along the wall as though they were alone in the room. Elderly ladies gossiped behind upraised fans, while white-gloved maids carried trays with flutes of champagne and glasses of punch. Elliott lifted two of the latter as a tray passed by. “Punch, Mrs. Howard?”

“Thank you,” she said, accepting a cup. “The buffet looks ample even if everyone brought hearty appetites.” Before them was a spread of sliced ham, cold roast beef, and bowls of cold salads. “Uncle John refused a formal dinner beforehand because of the number of guests. I suppose people can find places to carry their plates throughout the house and garden. At least the evening is mild for the end of December.”

“Everything looks perfect. You may stop fretting now,” he said with a laugh.

“Fussing over details is the only way I can earn my keep, sir.” Mrs. Howard hid her blush behind her fan.

Elliott turned her face up to his with a finger. “You are not hired help, Mrs. Howard. You are a guest. And I'm sure Mrs. Duncan wants you to enjoy yourself.”

“Then why don't we dance, Colonel,” she said as the fiddler plucked
the first notes of a reel. “After all, isn't that the point of the evening?” Without waiting for an answer, she set down her cup and then walked to the end of the line.

They danced not one, but two reels and two waltzes in a row. The entire room moved in harmony to the lively music, insulated from the world outside. People smiled and chatted as though Richmond were a carefree place once again. This one night everyone seemed to possess all they needed for happiness.

When he was finally breathless, Elliott pulled Mrs. Howard from the crowd to an open window. “You dance well,” he said, handing her a fresh cup of punch. “I wouldn't think your small town held many balls.”

“It did not, but my mother insisted I learn the social graces. I was taught to dance by a neighbor's wife who'd been educated in Boston. I must admit this is my first fancy ball.”

“The woman's tutelage has paid off handsomely.”

Mrs. Howard's lips pulled into a grin, as though at a secret jest. She softly waved her fan in front of her heated face.

“You found what I said funny, Mrs. Howard?”

“Yes. I find most of what you say amusing.” She studied him over the edge of her fan.

Elliott wasn't sure how to respond. “If I can do no more than amuse you, then I will content myself with that. Excuse me while I refill our cups.” He strode across the dance floor toward the refreshment table, hoping to find something stronger than punch. With each encounter, he grew more infatuated with the woman, and she found him merely amusing?
Like a playful kitten or a toddler fresh from his nap?
But with Methodists and Presbyterians in attendance, there were no hard spirits on the table. Elliott selected a long flute of champagne and tried to rein in his disappointment as the bubbles tickled their way down his throat.

“How does a Pennsylvania woman become belle of the ball?” Mr. Duncan asked over his shoulder.

Elliott turned his attention to his host. “Your niece would take exception to your assessment, sir.”

“Probably so, but I couldn't help but notice Madeline receiving more than her fair share of appreciative glances from the bachelors. If my
daughter wasn't already smitten with Major Penrod, I would fear hair-pulling before the dance concluded.”

Elliott cleared his throat. “Mrs. Howard is an attractive woman indeed, but I believe her magnetism lies in the singular ability to perplex and confound.”

Mr. Duncan released a bark of a laugh. Elliott sighed. Apparently, he was amusing everyone he came in contact with tonight. But before he could request an explanation, they were interrupted by General Rhodes.

“May I have a word with you, Colonel? And would you join us, Mr. Duncan?”

Elliott pivoted on his boot heel to face his superior. “Of course, sir.” Mr. Duncan nodded with a pinched expression on his face. The mood of cheerful conviviality was gone. “Shall I collect Major Penrod and the other staff members?”

“No, that won't be necessary.” The heavy-set general leaned precariously on his walking stick.

Elliott set his empty flute on a tray and followed his elders down the hall. Inside the library, the air smelled stale and musty, but the room was blissfully quiet without the ceaseless chatter of young belles.

“Would you care for a brandy, gentlemen?” asked their host.

“Very good, sir. If I drink another mouthful of punch, I'll float away.” General Rhodes accepted the first snifter of amber liquid.

“No, thank you, sir.” Elliott's desire for spirits vanished with his growing sense of doom. “How can I be of service?”

The general's bulbous nose reddened. “I want you to find out who has been leaking sensitive information to the Yankees.”

Elliott's spine stiffened. “Are you implying I have a traitor among those of the home guard? With all due respect, sir, upon what do you base such an allegation?”

“That bloody travesty at Bristow Station. That was no lucky guess on the part of the Union Army.” Rhodes downed his brandy and then held out his glass to be refilled.

“Our sentries are constantly picking off their scouts all the time. A Yankee scout could have spotted our movement.”

“I'm not talking about just the October skirmish. The November
debacle was more of the same. We can't seem to tie our shoes without that devil Meade anticipating every move. There are too many coincidences for it to be anything other than a spy in our midst.”

Mr. Duncan rubbed his hand across his jaw. “It's not just military maneuvers they're finding out about. Last Wednesday a dozen Southern sympathizers were detained in the Yankee capital. Two were arrested, while the others were ordered out of Washington with barely the clothes on their backs. They were given no warning and little time to pack. They were told they would be shot if they returned to the city. Who knows what will remain of their homes by the time the war is over?” He shook his head in dismay.

General Rhodes just as swiftly downed the second snifter. “Someone familiar with Richmond's wealthiest families supplied that list of names to the Yankee war department. Someone connected to President Davis's staff might be a Judas. I entrust the responsibility of finding out their identity to you two.”

Elliott saluted. “We are at your service, sir. I've heard rumors about this Mrs. Van Lew and others. I intend to investigate.”

The general scowled over his empty glass. “See that you look into
all
unsubstantiated rumors, Colonel. We need to nip this flow of information in the bud.”

Elliott returned to the dance floor feeling chastised for no apparent reason. He had never discussed military matters with civilians. And adding insult to injury, the fascinating Mrs. Howard was nowhere to be found.

J
ANUARY
1864

Madeline slipped into her usual chair at breakfast, grateful that her cousin still chattered endlessly about the ball nearly two weeks ago. Sweet Joseph did this, and then he said that… it was apparent to anyone within a five-block radius that Eugenia was in love.

Fortuitously, Colonel Haywood had found a permanent staff position for the major so he would not be returning to the battlefront. Not that the
men of the home guard didn't encounter their own brand of danger. They were expected to sacrifice their lives to protect Jefferson Davis, his family, and the war department of the Confederacy.