“Nevertheless, I will refrain from speaking my mind. But let me be clear, it is not my fault that she is so easily out-maneuvered and overwhelmed.”
“Women of her breeding are tutored in the arts,” Hunter said in Victoria’s defense. “They are not inclined to be experts on the battlefield of wits.”
“In other words, they cannot think for themselves.” Andrea frowned as if it were truly a detestable characteristic. “I dare say your explanation is quite evident in Victoria’s case. I’m afraid her brain has lapsed and wasted…apparently due to an extended period of disuse.”
“Stop trying to insult her.” Hunter’s voice grew loud again. “You must refrain from this abuse.”
“Insult her?” Andrea laughed. “Oh, please, Major.” She waved her hand in the air and spoke with provoking coolness. “Her character was stained long before I met her. And why should I be chastised for saying she is arrogant, which is apparent…and morally destitute, which is an understatement.”
Hunter’s mouth dropped open at her mad audacity. “She is my guest at Hawthorne, and she deserves better treatment.”
“She deserves a foot of bayonet between her ribs,” Andrea muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?” Hunter leaned forward as if he could not believe what he’d just heard.
“I said, she acts like she needs a bassinet and a bib.” Andrea replied with an innocent wave of her hand, though the smile on her lips was unmistakable.
“Take care, Miss Evans,” he said, clenching his fists again. “Once again you tread across the line of common civility.”
“Very well.” Andrea crossed her arms, took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she came to a decision. “As a token of gratitude to you—and a peace offering to her—I will offer you this. If she stays out of my way, no further transgressions will occur.”
Hunter squeezed his temples, as trying to figure out if that was a sign of contrition or not. “Does that mean you are even now? Has the appropriate justice been meted out? Are you done with your retribution?”
“Sir, why do you place the blame on me? Why do you not place the blame where it belongs—on her distemper and wickedness?”
“I do place the blame where it belongs—on your defiance and rebelliousness!”
“Oh, I see. So rebelliousness is an admirable trait when associated with the men of your Command, yet an offensive one when linked with my…free will.”
“Free will? Do you think that is a suitable term for your intolerable, insolent behavior?”
Andrea closed her eyes until there was barely a slice of green to be seen. “I cannot help but find it quite fascinating, sir, that you are determined to defend and support such a supremely selfish, notoriously insincere and disgracefully vain woman, who would sell her sense of honor, which I fear is not of much value, for influence and power.” Andrea raised her eyebrows to their highest elevation. “One can only speculate as to your motivation.”
Now it was Hunter’s turn to lose his temper. “You may speculate all you want, young lady,” he said, shaking his finger at her. “And I’ll determine it my justifiable duty to put you in your place.”
Andrea’s eyes narrowed. “She is the one who needs put in her place. Did you not notice that she attempted to insult me tonight?”
“You are too obstinate to be insulted,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Your behavior today is most certainly only going to fuel her fire of retaliation.”
“If I were you, I’d counsel her to the contrary.”
Hunter leaned forward with his hands on the table. “Is that a threat?”
“Take it as you may,” she responded coolly. “And pass it on.”
When Andrea saw the look on Hunter’s face, she knew she had gone too far. She took a step backward as he began making his way around the table toward her.
But just then Mattie came bustling through the doorway carrying a serving tray.
“Dessert for you Massa?”
Hunter stopped in mid-stride, removing his eyes from Andrea and turning his attention momentarily to Mattie. Andrea’s eyes rested on the servant too, trying to ascertain if she had been listening behind the door and timed her intervention perfectly.
“Miz Andrea made some peach pie.” Mattie shot Andrea a sideways glance, while Andrea shook her head and gestured with hand signals to stop her from expounding further.
“I beg your pardon?” Hunter’s gaze went back to Andrea, who instantly dropped her hands to her side and her eyes to the tabletop. “Did you just say Miss Evans made the pie?”
Andrea did not give Mattie a chance to answer. “I would love to remain parleying with you, sir, but if you’ll excuse me, I’m no longer hungry.” She turned to leave. “But I do thank you again for this deliriously delightful evening, as I knew it would be.”
“Sit.”
Andrea fell back into her chair at the sound of his voice as if she’d been shot.
Mattie handed him a slice of the pie and Andrea sat staring straight ahead.
“Has anyone tried a piece yet?” Hunter hesitated, staring at his plate.
“She made one for us too and it was the best pie I ever ate,” Mattie said proudly.
“Is that so.” Hunter looked directly at Andrea, saying it more like a statement than a question. “Then I suppose I will try a piece.”
Lifting his fork to his mouth, he took a small bite and then smiled pensively. “It seems our houseguest has more talents than she cares to confess.” He spoke to Mattie now as if Andrea was no longer in the room.
“Oh yessir.” Mattie couldn’t help but provide more details. “She wouldn’t let me help even though I din’t like the way she rolled the dough. Done it all herself.”
“Truly? It seems strange, don’t you think?” Hunter took another bite and stared musingly at Andrea with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Because I would think that seeing Miss Evans in the kitchen would be a bit like seeing a racehorse pulling a plow.”
Andrea felt her cheeks grow warm, but simply pursed her lips together and did not respond.
Hunter, meanwhile looked over at Mattie wearing a full-blown smile. “All this time has gone by and I have always believed Miss Evans would be more inclined to know how to fly to the moon than do anything as domestic as bake a pie.”
“Joke all you want, Major.” Andrea slammed the palms of both hands on the table as she rose before grabbing her cane. “Just because the women you care to entertain don’t know their way around a kitchen or a stable…or a poker game for that matter…is no reason to ridicule me!”
“Miss Evans, ridicule was not my intent, I assure you.” He took another bite of the pie and took his time before continuing. “It’s just that I wonder how many more feminine charms you might be hiding.” He studied her intently with slightly tilted head and half-closed eyes.
Andrea’s eyes grew wide. “None that you will ever have the privilege of seeing,” she replied. “I assure you.”
She wasn’t sure if their previous conversation was over or not, and was unsure if she would be permitted to quit the room. But much to her surprise—and satisfaction—the cause of the evening’s disturbance became the source for her escape. Victoria’s shrill voice pulsated through the room, causing Hunter to cast an eye to the room above them at the sound of his name.
His gaze fell again upon Andrea, and it was one that caused her insides to writhe. “This conversation has come to an end for the time being.” He stood and strode to the door, then turned and looked her dead in the eye. “But that does not mean I’m through with you yet.”
Chapter 34
That this shall be no grief unto thee, nor offence of heart unto the Lord…that thou has shed blood causeless.
– 1 Samuel 25:30, 31
Andrea awakened at dawn to the stillest air that ever was—as if the angel of death had crept in overnight. She found it difficult to breathe, felt a chill surge throug
h her veins at the same time, and knew to the depths of her bones that something terrible was about to happen…or already had.
Unable to sleep any longer she arose, but by the time the sun began casting its warm golden rays through the window, the ominous feeling of impending disaster faded.
That is until the sound of a courier riding in at breakneck speed caught her attention. The single rider was followed by three of Hunter’s men galloping up the lane on lathered horses. Andrea knew the visit was an unusual one, and watched as the men dismounted in unison and filed into the house. She heard their spurs echoing across the main hallway, and then the sound of a muted, but animated and angry conversation in Hunter’s library.
Within mere minutes of their arrival, they were gone again, and not long after, Andrea received a reminder that she was expected to meet with Hunter in his library at three o’clock sharp. Limping reluctantly down the mahogany staircase, she tried to predict the cause for this appointment. Surely he had forgotten the fiasco of the dinner by now?
When Andrea walked through the door, Hunter stood by the window staring out over the landscape with a distant, remote look on his face. Even after she cleared her throat to alert him of her presence, it seemed to take a few minutes for him to know she was there, and even longer for him to focus.
“Miss Evans,” he finally said with cold formality. “You may be seated.”
“I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind.” Andrea’s heart picked up its pace when she saw how brooding and pensive he appeared. He walked over to his desk, and stared at a piece of paper for a moment as if preoccupied. Then he cleared his throat, an apparent attempt to get his mind focused on the subject at hand—and off whatever it was that was causing his distraction.
“Miss Evans, I have gone to great lengths to make sure your stay here is as painless as possible.”
Andrea did not know how to respond, so she merely nodded and shrugged her shoulders.
“You are comfortable with your surroundings?”
“You have been most considerate,” she answered.
Hunter took a deep breath and walked over to the window. “As you are accustomed to speaking your mind freely, so shall I.” He glanced back at her with a look of frustration on his face. “This is not a discussion I wish to have—especially not today—but I believe we have some unfinished business concerning my other visitor.”
Andrea knew Hunter had more important duties than dealing with his dueling houseguests, but knew in an instant that Victoria was behind this meeting. No doubt she had demanded that Andrea be suitably punished for the transgression of resourcefully defending herself.
“You have heard but one side of the story,” was all Andrea said, as her fingers absently curled into fists by her side.
Hunter rubbed his forehead and temples. “No doubt, you believe there were extenuating circumstances.”
“Indeed…as well as many aggravating ones.”
Hunter took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking. “Would you at least provide an apology for the episode of which I speak? I thought there was a mutual understanding that you would refrain from this behavior. Have you forgotten this compact we had, or have you simply chosen to ignore it?”
Andrea took a disbelieving step forward. “You will take her side? You don’t know all that occurred, yet you allow her to cast her slime on me?”
“I am well enough acquainted with your behavior to guess at the scenario;” Hunter seemed to heed her words with little patience and even less interest. “And I know enough to comprehend you have failed in your commitment to keep the peace.”
He walked back to the window, and Andrea sensed that his mind was elsewhere again. Indeed, when she cleared her throat, he looked at her as if just remembering she was present. Distraction was evident in his every move.
Andrea shrugged and tried to calm herself. Hunter’s reticence and remoteness were not easily explained, and she tried to conjecture what was troubling him. She was sure of one thing. His mood was not the result of a mere fracas between his houseguests.
“I do not know how or why this battle began,” he said, “nor do I care to place blame on one or the other. But I am telling you here and now…” He turned more fully toward her. “It will stop.”
His tone of voice was ominous and threatening and would have stopped an advancing army, but it had little effect on Andrea.
“I will tell you how it started,” she responded. “Miss Hamilton and I reside on opposite sides of the moral spectrum, and I will not allow her to contaminate me with her venomous poison…”
“That will be enough Miss Evans,” Hunter interrupted, his voice belaying his agitation, though his face remained grave and inscrutable. “Does this not tire you?”
“Tire me?”
“I should think it would be exhausting, constantly demeaning and disparaging Virginians as you do.”
Andrea could feel her blood pulsing through her veins. But when she looked again into Hunter’s eyes, she suppressed the inclination to argue. He did not appear particularly mad, more like profoundly grave and extraordinarily distant. And he was staring at her with such a despondent and agonizing gaze that it stopped her in her tracks.
Something was wrong. Andrea was instantly disappointed and angry at herself for allowing Victoria to make her behave in such a deplorable way.
She raised her head a notch higher, and blinked violently a few times. “I will apologize to you for the disruption, but never to her for defending myself.” Her voice quivered slightly with agitation. “You will hear of no further incidents.”
Hunter stared at her intently as if trying to divine her sincerity—and her true meaning. Then he nodded a careless dismissal and returned to his work.
Chapter 35
But love is blind and love cannot see.
– Merchant of Venice, Shakespeare
It seemed to Andrea that almost weekly Hunter’s youngest recruit, Johnny—along with a few other men—would ride in with a string of new horses. Sometimes it was as few as ten or twenty, sometimes as many as eighty or more. Hunter would occasionally accompany them and spend the night. But he rarely stayed more than a day or two, just long enough to keep things in order at Hawthorne. Then he was gone again.
Andrea grew close to Johnny over the course of a few weeks, and found that he was also apparently a personal favorite of her host. Hunter had taken him under his wing, making him a personal aide, whose responsibilities with the horses kept him away from active fighting. Whether it was his age, only fourteen, or his endearing personality that had grabbed Hunter’s attention, was unclear. But it was clear that Hunter made every effort to keep the youngster out of harm’s way by putting him in charge of the captured horses.
“You like doing this?” Andrea asked Johnny one day as she helped him separate a string of ten horses.
“Yeah,” he answered. “But ah’d rather be fighting Yankees any day.”
“Why don’t you?”
Johnny was silent for a moment. “Majah won’t let me…says I’m too young.” He climbed to the top rail of the fence and sat down. “I did get a chance once though.”
Really?’
“Yep. Came across some Yanks when I was going to get some horses and yelled at them, ‘Who goes there? Friends?’”
“What’d they say?” Andrea asked.
“They yelled back, ‘We’re not your friends you dirty rebel!’”
Andrea laughed at how his face lit up as he told the story. “So what’d you do?”
“I fired a shot at them, of course.” He grew suddenly sullen. “But then Major Hunter came riding up and yelled at me.”
Andrea nodded consolingly. “For firing without orders I guess.”
“No. For not firing fast enough.” He smiled at her sheepishly. “They got away.”
Andrea laughed. “That’s a good story Johnny. You’ll make a soldier yet.”
“I reckin’ I w
ill someday.” He pushed his hat back from his forehead, the way Andrea had often seen Hunter do. “Ah’d better get back.” He jumped off the fence and turned to untie his mare.
Andrea helped him gather four horses that had been restored to good health, and watched him trot out the lane, leading two on each side.
She turned to the two horses that she needed to put in the barn. Without Hunter’s knowledge or approval, Andrea had begun separating the horses that were brought in based on their condition. The wounded were kept in the barn with the breeding stock so they could be easily cared for and the sickly were put in a separate barn on the other side of the pasture. Those that just needed some rest were turned out in a large pasture behind the house so that Hunter’s men could easily find a remount if the necessity arose.
Andrea oversaw the treatments of the injured and ill, and made sure all of the horses were turned out for fresh air and sunshine as often as the weather would allow.
After the two wounded horses were tucked away in the barn, Andrea headed to Justus’s stall to perform a chore that even Zach was hesitant to do. After putting a lead rope on Justus she tugged on it while he was still in the barn. “You behave. You hear me?”
But as soon as her horse went from the shadow of the barn into sunlight, he reacted in his customary way, standing on his two hind legs and neighing loudly as if to announce to the world that he was finally free.
Andrea allowed him to have his fun, then scolded him for the showoff he was, and took a tighter grip on his lead. Though he continued to prance and pull, she stayed close to his shoulder, leaning heavily on her cane for support and balance as he tugged on the lead as if to hurry her along.
“Slow down you brute,” she said, laughing. “I can’t walk as fast as I used to.”
Noticing a movement out of the corner of her eye, Andrea saw two horsemen sitting about ten yards away, their arms crossed over their saddles as they curiously watched her lead the misbehaving horse to the paddock. One of the men was Hunter. The other was Captain Carter, with a cigar hanging customarily out of his mouth.
Honor Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Volume II) Page 18
