When the Splendor Falls (31 page)

“Believe so, although I feel I should warn the gentlemen to watch their step, but being a gentleman, I’ll hold my tongue. Are you interested?”

“I’ve known Blythe her whole life,” Adam said, looking at his cousin as if he’d become a lout before his eyes. But he spoke nonchalantly enough. “As you said, courtesy demands I should ask her to dance.”

“Well, since I happen to be on her card for another two dances, I’ll allow you to have the honor in my stead,” Justin offered, an amorous glint in his light blue eyes as he looked down at the golden head of the young woman now standing at his elbow.

“Your generosity has become my good fortune,” Adam murmured, hiding his pleased grin.

“And mine,” Justin returned, asking the lovely young woman beside him to partner him in the next waltz that had been promised to Blythe.

With a loud laugh that jarred Adam’s nerves, the fair-haired miss walked away with a flirtatious swing of her colorful skirts, Justin’s name now on her dance card. Adam eyed his cousin up and down and grinned. “I believe it must be the uniform. I don’t believe she even saw me standing here. Or else she thought I was a potted palm. But then the ladies do like men in uniform.”

“Now I know why you invested in that ship of yours, so you can strut along the quay in a blue coat.”

“I’m only the owner, not the captain, and I never strut,” Adam disclaimed. “And you’ll not catch me in uniform. I haven’t a heroic bone in my body. Hate the sound of gunfire. Lord help me if there’s a war, I’ll be branded a coward. But despite the advantage you have over me, I’d say I was by far the more fortunate, since I do possess a natural charm, so I never had to resort to wearing a uniform like you lads. A beautifully tailored blue frock coat and a Panama hat was all I needed to attend university. Scarcely managed to graduate even at that. Never would have had I been in uniform, what with all the ladies flirting with me. I would have been far too handsome and charming for my own good. And I would have been worried sick. Damned embarrassing, and uncomfortable, don’t you think, if you should sit on your sword by mistake?” Adam commented.

“Ah, there speaks the civilian. You see, the very first training a cadet receives has to do with his sword,” Justin declared, his expression very serious. “Lesson One in the manual, ‘How to sit down without emasculating oneself.’ Every cadet learns that one by heart,” he proclaimed, placing his hand over his heart as if swearing to the truth.

Adam laughed. “A little lower, lad,” he advised.

“I’ve never yet heard of any officer to make his promotions who had a high voice,” Palmer contributed, overhearing the jesting comments as he came to stand by his classmate.

“Then he’s been fortunate never to have met our Julia,” Adam added, much to the laughter of the group that had formed around them, for many had been in church that Sunday for services when the Reverend Culpepper had delivered his sermon in a high-pitched, squeaky voice, his step that day rather mincing, as if he still suffered some tenderness from the scalding.

“I’ve come on a mission of the gravest urgency,” Palmer said, glancing back toward the door, where a slender figure in pale green silk stood waiting nervously. “I believe you have a waltz to dance,” he said conspiratorially, placing a hand around Justin’s elbow to guide him forward.

“Actually,” Adam intervened, stepping forward quickly, “I have the great pleasure of the next waltz with Blythe.”

“Oh?” Palmer questioned, glancing between the two cousins expectantly.

“Yes, I discovered, much to my dismay, that Blythe’s card was filled, and I’d not yet had the pleasure of her company. So, since Justin had already danced with her, he very generously offered me the opportunity to dance with the loveliest young woman in this room,” Adam said, bowing slightly to them. “And as long as it is a Braedon your sister is dancing with, what difference does it make? We’re all cut from the same cloth,” he chided as he walked off, stopping momentarily by a vase to pluck a flower from the bouquet.

Palmer stared after him suspiciously, for he knew Adam Braedon too well to take what he said very seriously, and he wasn’t going to have Blythe’s birthday ruined by one of his jests. But as he watched, Blythe’s momentary look of disappointment fled and was replaced by a shy smile as she looked up into Adam’s handsome face, then accepted the single rose he offered, then, with her gloved hand held firmly beneath his on his arm, he led her into the group positioning themselves as they waited for the first steps of the waltz to begin. Hurrying into a place next to them were Justin and the golden-haired woman he’d been eyeing, her giggles almost drowning out the first notes as the musicians began to play. And next to them, Julia, dressed in her yards and yards of blond lace, her shining golden hair a mass of curls à la Grecian and stuck with a long feather that kept flicking her partner’s nose every time she moved her head. And on the other side of Julia, who was smiling from ear to ear as she nodded at her dearest friend, were Leigh and Matthew, their figures gliding away in time to the music as if they’d danced together their whole lives.

“If I may say so, this county has the most beautiful women in Virginia,” commented one of Palmer’s classmates as he watched the assemblage of colorful skirts, and the flowerlike faces with their petal-smooth complexions.

“If I may correct you, sir, all of Virginia has the most beautiful women, and in all of the country. I’m from Rappahannock County.”

“My apologies. A toast, then! To the lovely ladies of Virginia!”

“I’ll drink to that, since I married the prettiest little gal in Appomattox County.”

“Another toast, if I may? To all Virginians.”

“Here, here!”

“I’ve never enjoyed such hospitality,” offered a young cadet from Alabama, who had been invited by Palmer, along with several of his classmates, to stay at Travers Hill. “To the Travers family, and their home, Travers Hill,” he said, holding up his glass to Palmer.

“To the Old Dominion. Seat of liberty, heart of the Republic.”

“Despite the fact that a Bostonian, or perhaps a Philadelphian, might dispute that, I’ll drink to our honored heritage.”

“You’ve obviously never been to Texas,” another gentleman drawled.

“Figure Texas hospitality is kissin’ kin to fightin’. I was there just long enough to get snakebit, catch a Comanche arrow in my leg, and learn to hate the sight of mesquite,” an older gentleman remarked, rubbing his thigh for emphasis. “Was down there at the border, defendin’ the Rio Grande in ’46.”

“You saw action, then, sir?” asked an eager-eyed young cadet, the gold buttons on his uniform bright and shiny, and untarnished by time or battle.

“Rode down there with Brigadier General Zachary Taylor himself. Old Rough and Ready. Now, there was a feller who knew how to fight Injuns, but then he was a Virginian, and come out of the cradle fightin’ on the frontier in Kentucky. I was part of Sam Ringgold’s flying artillery. Was just like bein’ back at the Point, being trained by him. Saw half of my ol’ classmates. Kirby Smith, Sam Grant, William Henry. Lost a good man when the major fell, yes, sir. But my luck was holdin’ strong, ’cause I dodged that Mexican cannon fire to cross the border without a scratch. Got all the way down to Mexico City and those pretty
señoritas
in time to see the Stars and Stripes raised high. Landed with Major General Winfield Scott right there beneath their noses on the Gulf Coast, then went climbing into the mountains with nothing more than I could carry on my back, didn’t know when I’d eat my next meal. Fought in the battle at Cerro Gordo, then rode with another good Virginian and West Point man, Robert E. Lee, when he and Kearny attacked Chapultepec, an old castle outside the gates of Mexico City, and then we broke through to take the enemy. Reckon that settled the score for what they did to us at the Alamo.”

“Sir, did you know a Thomas Jackson? I understand he was in that engagement. He also graduated from West Point. He is a professor now at VMI.”

“In that engagement? Son, if it hadn’t been for Major Jackson, I wouldn’t be alive today to be tellin’ you this tale. He and his men laid down a barrage of fire that gave cover to our cavalry. Received a commendation and a promotion for that.”

One of the young men in uniform hooted incredulously. “Ol’ Fool Tom!”

The older gentleman drew in his breath with an indignant puffing up of his chest. “I don’t believe I heard you correctly?”

“My apologies, sir. A slip of the tongue,” the young man apologized quickly, for he didn’t want his indiscretion getting back to that particular professor.

“No offense meant, sir, but we all feel that we’ve been in battle when in Professor Jackson’s class. Never seen such a stiff-necked, straight-backed, sour-faced man. Don’t know how many times I’ve been skinned by him.”

“Heard tell his sour disposition is caused by dyspepsia.”

“More likely from sucking lemons.”

“And buttermilk. Never seen a man with such a likin’ for it.”

“Was told it’d settle his stomach.”

“Follows the regulations as if he’d written them himself. Preaching them to us like he was quoting from the Bible. Always vowing that we’re going to bring down the wrath of God on our irreverent heads.”

“Professor Jackson isn’t one to forget and forgive, either. Placed one student on report because he was talking in class. Ended up in a court-martial, sir, and Old Jack had him expelled just months before his graduation.”

“Reckon, boys, that you’ve had life too easy. Reckon if you intend on soldiering for the rest of your lives, unless you want them to be real short ones, then you’d better learn about discipline and proper military conduct,” the older gentleman, who apparently practiced what he preached, and had lived to reach his age of great wisdom, advised them unsympathetically. “Hard work and dedication, and following orders, that’s what makes a man strong, and keeps him alive in battle. I’ll tell you this much about ‘Fool Tom’ as you call him. I never saw a man work harder, show more dedication than he did. Just an orphan boy from the hill country when he came to West Point. He was at the bottom of his class. Didn’t know hardly a thing. When he graduated, he was almost at the top. Some of you might remember that. If lucky, you’ll get to serve under him one day.”

“I’d almost wish that, sir, just to get in a good fight. Wish we were still at war with Mexico. Sometimes I wonder why I’m going to VMI, except that my brothers and uncles did. Waste of time. Don’t know how much good this kind of learning will do when it comes to fighting Indians.”

“Reckon you might be right glad of that training in the next fight, ’cause I figure it won’t be quite so easy to separate the two sides. Easy enough to take aim on an Indian with a head feather, or on one of Santa Anna’s troops, one of them
caballeros
in fancy uniform, but reckon it’d be a damned sight harder to tell a store clerk from New York and a farmer from Georgia apart, seein’ how they’d probably be on different sides, but both wearin’ blue wool. Reckon we’d have to be changin’ our colors if it comes to a fight. Don’t know about that? Blue’s a mighty fine color, but you got to be able to tell one side from the other, especially when you got a lot of civilians fighting.”

“You can’t actually believe there truly will be a war between the states, sir?” a serious young cadet demanded.

“More ’n think it, boy. Too much talk now to stop it.”

“I would have said there hasn’t been enough talk.”

“Now when has a slow-talkin’, hotheaded Southerner ever listened to a fast-talkin’, coldhearted Northerner? Don’t talk the same language. I want to talk about tobacco and horses over a lil’ corn liquor, and all he talks about are factories and railroads, and tells me he’s joined a temperance league and helpin’ runaway slaves. No, sir, I say let’s have our own republic.”

“I doubt we will be able to form one peacefully. You can expect opposition from those who have plans for the South. They won’t hold to havin’ us mindin’ our own business down here. It’ll stick in their craw.”

“Could be. But no state has seceded yet,” young John Drayton said.

“Give ’em time. They will. We’re not afraid of a little shooting.”

“Virginia won’t,” John Drayton said, thinking of his sister in Maryland.

“Want to bet on that?”

“I’m a Virginian, and I believe in the Union. I don’t want to see it torn apart. I got kinfolks just across the mountains in Pennsylvania and Ohio. If Virginia seceded, and there’s war, then they’d be the enemy. I was talking to my father last month when I was home, and he can’t believe Virginia will leave the Union. At least the people up around Romney don’t want to secede, despite what John Brown did at Harper’s Ferry.”

“Well, that’s surprising, considering that’s all we ever hear from you folks the other side of the Shenandoah. Always talking about separating from Virginia and setting up your own state government. Might just be getting your chance sooner than you thought. But as a state in the Union, or…”

“I figure we’ll do just fine on our own if we secede. Better even. Tired of them interfering Northerners,” John’s brother, Talbot, declared.

“Exactly. Can’t tell a man how to go about his business. And that’s what it comes down to. Stickin’ your nose in another man’s business. Best way to start up a fight. Reckon I’m not too old to lend a hand to you young bucks should it come to it,” the older man chuckled.

“Don’t figure it’ll last very long, sir. Probably promote you to general, sir, they’ll need experienced officers.”

“Won’t your leg trouble you?”

“Nope. Can still ride, and I ain’t plannin’ on doin’ any walkin’, son. I’m cavalry.”

“How’d you get that wound, sir? A Comanche arrow, you say?”

“Yup, but should’ve been my scalp,” he claimed, running a loving hand through his fine, gray-streaked hair.

“How did you escape, sir?”

“The fact that I wasn’t Texan. Come face-to-face with this Comanche brave. Figured he was going to murder and scalp me right then and there, mean-eyed critter that he was.”

“What happened to stop him? Did you shoot him?”

“Nope, didn’t have time. As soon as that Comanche caught sight of the man standing beside me, he shoots me in the leg and leaves me to hobble around, that arrow sticking out of both sides of my leg, and believin’ I couldn’t reach my gun.”