“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Get out of here.”
Edward darted off, leaving Joshua to regain composure. This was going to difficult as he had suspected. General Gresham wasn’t even on the premises today, leaving Joshua to implement his hair-brained scheme. Joshua had to determine which girl went to which officer, then at the end of the day, he would have to make sure each girl received her promised rations. He had a stack of gunny sacks stacked in the study ready to fill.
He went to the door of the parlor and, leaning against the door jamb, observed Sophia Martinique. She was young – no more than twenty or so, yet old enough to know what she was doing. Of course, three year ago, when the war began, she would have been much younger. She was likely confused. He shook his head. His tendency to analyze everyone was tiresome. He would just have to find out.
She wore a faded blue dress, ripped at the hem, as he’d noticed earlier. Her deep brown hair cascaded down her back in loose curls. Her features were delicate, her skin porcelain. She was thin, but not to the point of being emaciated. She wore a pearl ring on her finger. Married perhaps. She sat on the edge of the chair, her back straight, her eyes straight ahead. Her chin was held high, her expression blank.
“Good morning, Miss Sophia,” Joshua said, pushing away from the door.
She startled. A shadow of fear crossed her features before she regained her composure.
“Good morning,” she answered softly.
He crossed to the cabinet, took out a bottle of sherry and a shot glass. Poured a splash into the glass.
“Would you like some?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
“No, thank you,” she answered, only a tinge of judgment in her voice.
He smiled. If she had accepted, he would have been shocked.
He pulled a straight chair a few inches in front of her and sat, swirling the sherry in his glass. “Why are you here?” he asked, more to himself than to her.
Her eyes met his – full of questions.
“I don’t understand,” she responded.
“Nor do I.” He sipped the sherry. Felt the burn in his throat.
“I wanted to help people.”
He nearly strangled on the sherry. “Help people?”
“Of course.”
“Yankees?”
“Is that so bad?” she answered. “The men are lonely and they need someone with them – to help them.”
Joshua reconsidered. Perhaps Miss Sophia had limitations of the mind. Her green eyes were intense, knowledgeable. She didn’t look feeble-minded.
“Have you ever ah… helped Yankees before?”
“No,” she said, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Is experience needed?”
Joshua smiled, against his will. “No. Experience is not a requirement.”
“I assumed that you would teach me what I needed to know.”
“Of course,” he said. Oh my.
“Why then, have I been singled out? I know that Mary, also, has no experience.”
“How do you know this?”
“She and I have been friends since birth.”
Joshua swallowed the remainder of his sherry in one gulp. “You’ll stay here today – with me.” This woman needed to be protected from herself as much as from his men.
“Very well,” she said, uncertainly. “There’s no one for me to tend?”
“I admire your forthrightness,” he said.
She flushed. “I merely wish to clarify my role.”
“Today, you have no task.”
“Oh,” she said, her disappointment evident. “Will I still be paid?”
She had come here, after all, with the promise of food. Perhaps her motivation was simply that. Hunger.
“Of course. Are you hungry then?”
As though on cue, her stomach growled. She shook her head.
“I’ll bring you something,” he said.
Joshua stepped out of the parlor and loosened his tie. Sophia was an enigma. Her eyes spoke of knowledge. Her face of innocence. Yet her words bespoke of knowledge and nonchalance. Nonchalance that seemed unlikely. Yet she claimed to lack experience. He would have to discover the motivation behind her presence here to understand her.
In the dining room, he put half a dozen biscuits and a small jar of strawberry jam on a plate. He poured a glass of water and took both back to the parlor where Sophia waited.
He placed both on the table next to Sophia. “For you,” he said.
She smiled.
Again, his mind went blank and he was dazzled.
“You’re kind. Will anyone be joining us?” Her voice was soft, delicate, like her features. Educated. Yes, she was different.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“You brought enough biscuits to feed an army.”
He chuckled. “You can take the rest with you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be just across the hall,” he gestured, “if you need anything.”
She nodded.
Joshua closed the door behind him. And took a deep breath. He’d heard about Southern women who put men under their spell. Perhaps she had cast some spell upon him.
He went across to the desk to tackle the mounds of paperwork General Gresham had left for him in his absence.
An hour later, he still had the mound of paperwork in spite of his men only interrupting him once and then only for fifteen minutes.
As he read a requisition, he found his mind wandering to Sophia Martinique. What was she doing there across the hall? Again, he wondered if she was safe. And caught himself before going to check on her. Again, he tried to think of a plausible excuse to walk across the hall. And again, came up empty-handed. Or in this case, he thought wryly, empty-minded.
He began reading again. With a groan, he got up. It was time for fresh air.
He lit his cigar and walked out back to observe the men. When General Gresham returned, he would no longer be chained indoors.
“Sir,” one of the soldiers approached him, his hat in one hand, a letter in the other.
“What is it?”
“I received a letter from back home. My dear mother is ill. On her deathbed. Might I have leave to see her Sir? To see her one last time?” The man’s chin trembled. He lowered his face.
“Gather your things,” Joshua said. “I’ll complete the necessary paperwork.”
“Thank you, Sir! Thank you!” The soldier brightened for a moment before returning to his grief.
Joshua took one more puff on his cigar. Cursed under his breath.
And went inside for even more paperwork.
Thirty minutes later, he walked across to the parlor door and quietly opened it. He didn’t see her at first. The chair she had sat in earlier stood empty. One of the biscuits had been eaten.
She was curled up on the settee sound asleep. Her hair fell across her cheek, her lips slightly parted.
She reminded him of a fairy princess.
Someone called his name – interrupting his study of Sophia.
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Once in a Blue Moon Page 18
