Swan's Way

by Weyrich, Becky Lee

  “Darlin’? What about afterward?” Channing’s tone had changed from one of jubilation to concern. “I won’t exactly be your father’s favorite, once he finds out what we’ve done.”

  She clung to him happily, still smiling, all her cares vanished. “You’ll be real family by then, Chan. And family ties mean more than anything to my father. He won’t cause trouble. Mother won’t allow it”

  They held each other close, as Styx set a true course for Winchester. At last, they spied the lights in the windows of the parsonage up ahead.

  “We’ve made it,” Virginia said, with a sigh of relief.

  Minutes later, they were standing in the front parlor of Reverend and Mrs. Bulwer’s cozy stone cottage with its huge fireplace. The parson at first hesitated to perform such a hasty marriage, until Channing produced Melora Swan’s note. Festus Bulwer knew the lady well and knew better than to question her wishes, even if this whole situation did strike him as rather odd. Mrs. Swan had engaged him months ago to preside over the double ceremony at Swan’s Quarter. The date was set for, only a few days from now. Still, he had had an inordinate number of unannounced calls for nuptials these past weeks, due to the sudden war frenzy.

  Mrs. Bulwer, a tiny slip of a lady in her sixties, went up on tiptoe to whisper to Virginia, “Dear, if you would like to freshen up, you may use my room.”

  Channing answered for his fiancée. “Thank you, ma’am, but there’s no time. We need to get on with the vows. The short version, and hurry, please.”

  Hearing that, the reverend cleared his throat, opened his Bible, and began the proceedings.

  Virginia’s heart soared. At last, she could finally believe this was happening. She clung to Channing’s arm, her hands cold and trembling. She stared up at him with adoring, dewy eyes. His look for her was loving enough to make her weak with longing.

  When Reverend Bulwer reached the passage about anyone standing who knew just cause why Channing and Virginia should not be wed, he cleared his throat and, glancing about the otherwise unpopulated room, said, “I suppose we can dispense with that part and get right to the point.”

  At that very instant, they all turned, shocked to hear the furious pounding of horses’ hooves outside. Without so much as a knock, the door flew open.

  Virginia cried out and clung tightly to Channing when she saw her father’s huge frame filling the doorway.

  “Thank God, I’m in time!” he bellowed. Turning a steely glare on the cringing parson, the colonel said, “You can thank your lucky stars for that, Bulwer!”

  “Father, no!” Virginia wailed. “We’re already married.”

  “Maybe so, but not bedded.” He strode into the room and pulled Virginia out of Channing’s arms. “Jed, you and the twins take your sister home. Rodney and I have some business with Lieutenant McNeal.”

  Virginia’s brothers all glared at Channing as they came in, forming a solid, blond wall of husky man-flesh.

  Jed and the twins took hold of Virginia’s arms. She struggled against them—screaming, clawing, and kicking. It was no use. They simply out-numbered and out-muscled her.

  Channing tried his best to rescue her, but Colonel Swan and Rodney grabbed him, wrestling him to the floor.

  “I won’t go! I’m getting married!” Virginia shrieked. “I love him, Father!”

  Staring at his daughter, his face filled with pain, Jedediah said, in a raspy voice, “If that’s so, then your love will last beyond the war. But I’ll not be meeting my own son-in-law on the field of battle. Now go quietly with your brothers, Virginia.”

  Her gaze locked with Channing’s for a moment, before the boys led her away. With that one look he promised her love forevermore. His expression held all the pain of the ages, all the longing in his soul.

  Her spirits badly battered, her heart broken, Virginia turned to the door and left, as her father ordered. That moment seemed the blackest hour of her life.

  Chapter Ten

  Virginia’s mother was waiting on the dark veranda when her daughter arrived home with her brothers. Melora Swan’s face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed from the scene between her and her husband that had taken place before he rode off to stop the elopement. Someone—some spy—had told the colonel that Channing was back and, even worse, that he intended to remain in the Army of the United States. Jedediah was a hot-tempered man, given to flying off the handle at the slightest provocation. Melora was used to his outbursts, but she had never before seen him in such a fit as he had flung when he realized his daughter was gone from Swan’s Quarter. Even thinking about it now made Melora shudder, as she watched Virginia slide off young Jed’s horse.

  Virginia stumbled up the front steps and fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing. “He wrecked everything. My life’s over.”

  “Hush that, dear. Of course it’s not. You and Channing will be married. Someday.” Melora tried to soothe Virginia, though her heart was broken.

  Pulling away, Virginia accused, “You! You must have told Father. Mother, how could you betray me?”

  “It wasn’t I, dear,” Melora whispered, her voice quivering with sympathy for her heartbroken daughter. “Your father and the boys knew that Channing was back before they ever got here. He came charging into the house, demanding to talk to you about Channing’s decision to remain loyal to the North—or, as your father put it, ‘to turn his back on the South and all that we Virginians stand for.’ When you weren’t here, he surmised what had happened. He stormed out of the here like a hound on the scent. He and your brothers rode out again at a full gallop. Polly confessed to me that one of her grandsons has been doing some spying for your father. I saw the boy whispering to the colonel the minute he dismounted. Ludlow must have told him then that Channing planned to stay with the Union Army. I have no idea how Ludlow found out, but I don’t think he will ever do anything like this again, after his granny gets through with him.”

  Still trying to comfort her weeping daughter, Melora watched her three youngest sons ride in silence around toward the barn. “Where are your father and Rodney, Virginia? Why didn’t they come home with you?”

  The question reduced the girl to pure hysteria. “They’re with Channing. Dear God, Mother, what will they do to him? This wasn’t even his idea. I’m the one they should blame.”

  “And I,” Melora admitted, grimly. “They’ll do nothing to him. You have my word on that.” Then silently, she added, Not if Jedediah Swan ever hopes to share my bed again.

  Back in Reverend Bulwer’s parlor, an inquisition was in progress. Mrs. Bulwer had taken to her bedroom and bolted the door, moments after the angry men arrived. Her husband would have accompanied her panicked flight, had he not feared for his parlor furniture and for Channing McNeal’s life. Murder gleamed in the eyes of the Swan men. Quaking with fear, Bulwer placed his thin body strategically, spreading himself as best he could to protect his wife’s beloved rosewood piano from harm, should the men started throwing things—or each other.

  “Here, now!” he shouted, in a voice as insubstantial as his frame. “I’ll not have fisticuffs under my roof. Might I remind you, Colonel Swan, that God is watching you. He sees your every move.”

  “Then He will no doubt bless this act, since it is aimed at a traitor.” With that, he took a swing at Channing, hitting a hard but glancing blow off his right cheekbone.

  Channing staggered under the force of the punch. If any other man had attacked him, he would have beaten him to a bloody pulp. But he refused even to defend himself against Virginia’s father.

  “Let me at him, Pa!” Rodney clenched his fists, bouncing about on the balls of his feet, as he and Channing had been taught in boxing class at West Point. “I should have given the bastard what for when he refused to come home with me. I might have guessed then that he meant to go against us. And now he’s disgraced my sister, besides.” He glared at his old friend. “I want a piece of you, you sonuvabitch!”

  Reverend Bulwer clea
red his throat loudly, screwing up his courage at the same time. “You will pardon me for interrupting, gentlemen, but Mr. McNeal was marrying Miss Virginia when you barged in. I see nothing in the least disgraceful in a Christian wedding.”

  Rodney turned a snarl on the cringing preacher. “It damn sure is, if she’s marrying a turncoat blue-belly!”

  When Rodney moved in to take a punch at Channing, Jedediah Swan waved his son off. “Wait for me outside, Rod. You clear out, too, Bulwer. I have a few words to say to McNeal that aren’t fit to be heard by one and all.”

  “But, Pa …” Rodney’s argument was short-lived.

  “You heard me, boy. Outside!”

  “You’ll not be breaking up the place?” Bulwer said, in as stern a voice as he could muster.

  “Likely McNeal’s neck, but nothing more. Out!” he yelled.

  Rodney exited reluctantly by the front door. Bulwer went to the back of the house to be with his frightened wife.

  For several moments, the two remaining men stood almost toe to toe, sizing each other up, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

  Finally, it was Channing who spoke first. “I refuse to fight you, Colonel Swan. You’re Virginia’s father. I won’t dishonor her.”

  “But you’re willing to shoot me quick enough on the field of battle or force me to kill you. I see that as a great dishonor to my daughter. To my whole family. To the South! But we’d best not get into that now.” He brushed a hand across his eyes, as if he were too weary to argue. “I sent Rodney and the reverend out, because it’s talk I want, not a fight.”

  Channing relaxed a bit when he heard this. He had braced his whole body for the next blow, sure that Swan meant to beat him senseless.

  “What’s got into you, boy? Why are you doing this? You know I’ve always thought as highly of you as if you were one of my own sons. It’s been my dream for you and Virginia to marry someday. You know that well.”

  Channing nodded. “Aye, sir, so I do.” He went on to explain to Colonel Swan, as best he could, the reasons for his decision. He used much the same words he had used with his own father. But Swan remained unconvinced.

  “This is madness, Channing.”

  “War is madness, sir! Neither side will come out the victor. The whole nation will suffer.”

  “It’s Lincoln’s fault, not ours. All we want is to form our own nation and live in peace.”

  “At the expense of our existing nation, sir. The president can’t allow that to happen. We stand together, or we stand against each other. I stand with our President Lincoln and our country. For me, there can be no other choice.”

  Swan uttered a long, weary sigh. “If that’s your last word on the subject, go now, Channing. Ride to Belle Grove and kiss your mother and sisters goodbye, then ride to Washington City and join your troops. I pray to God we never meet face to face in battle.”

  “As do I, Colonel Swan. But I still mean to marry your daughter.”

  Swan nodded, but his face was grim. “You still have my permission, but only after this war is over. I’ll hold no grudge against you. But I refuse to run the risk of meeting my own son-in-law in battle. Be off at once, and God go with you. I’ll tell Virginia that you’ve left.”

  “And will you tell her, too, that I still love her and will return to marry her, after the fighting is over?”

  Swan sighed deeply again. “If any of us return,” he added, in a grim tone.

  Feeling cold through and through, Second Lieutenant Channing McNeal, of the United States Army, stood at attention and snapped a sharp salute to Colonel Jedediah Swan, Army of the Confederacy. Swan, looking far older than his years, returned the military courtesy.

  After that, the two men left the parsonage together, to go their separate ways.

  Saturday, the first day of June, dawned hazy and hot, with storm clouds gathering in the west. Virginia woke with a dull ache buzzing inside her head. It took a few moments for her to come wide awake enough to realize the import of this day.

  “My wedding day,” she murmured. “The day Channing and I were to have been married.” She turned her face into her pillow and shed the scant tears she had left.

  The only man she would ever love had been gone for over a week. She had last seen him on that horrible night when her father and brothers had burst in and disrupted their marriage. Good to his word, her father had delivered Channing’s final message to her. At least he had left her with some thin thread of hope. If this terrible war ended someday, and if Channing lived to see that end, they would be married. The uncertainty of their future together left a constant, sharp ache in her heart.

  The sounds of bustling activity down below reminded Virginia again that she was expected to do her duty to her family and be on hand for the festivities today. How she would get through Rodney’s wedding to Agnes, she had no idea. Her mother, ever sympathetic, had told her that she might remain in her room until the guests had come and gone and the ceremony was over. But she couldn’t do that. It simply wasn’t the way of the Swan family. Virginia knew that she must dress and go down to be a part of this special occasion, even though she would no longer play a major role.

  The whole county knew what had happened. Even if the plantation families hadn’t been prone to gossip, there would have been no silencing the slave grapevine. They all knew of her thwarted marriage to Channing and his abrupt leave-taking to join his unit in Washington. She wondered if Channing had taken part in the recent clash of troops at Alexandria. To date, she had received no messages from him. She worried constantly that Channing might be wounded, unable to write.

  Virginia climbed out of bed and folded her newly finished Sunday House quilt. This very day she would put it away in her cedar hope chest. As beautiful as it was, the sight of the quilt brought hurtful memories. Neither Channing’s mother nor his sisters had come to the quilting bee Melora Swan had hosted. How could they, under the circumstances? Nor would they be among the wedding guests today. They had sent their regrets, citing their preparations for the trip to Paris as their sole reason for not coming. But everyone knew that the cancellation of half of the double wedding was the true cause.

  “Virginia?” A hesitant voice accompanied the soft knock at her door. “It’s Agnes. May I come in?”

  The bride! The only bride at Swan’s Quarter this first day of June. The last person Virginia wanted to see at the moment.

  She pulled on her robe. “Yes, do come in, Agnes.”

  To Virginia’s amazement, the bride-to-be looked weary and worried, not at all like a woman about to marry the man she loved.

  “Agnes? Whatever’s wrong?” Virginia had half-expected the young woman to lord it over her this morning, since she was to have the wedding all to herself. But her demeanor told a very different tale. The girl looked truly terrified.

  “Oh, Virginia, I don’t know if I can go through with this.” Tears streamed down Agnes’s pale cheeks.

  “Why on earth not? You and Rodney have been counting on this day for years, making plans for months.”

  “But that’s just it. We had planned it all so differently. I wanted us all to be married today. Will you think me a traitor if I go ahead with it?”

  Virginia felt a sudden rush of warmth and affection for the weeping girl. She had misjudged her. She went to Agnes and gave her a hug.

  “Of course I won’t. I’m so happy for you and Rodney. Besides, he needs a wife to tame him and teach him some manners. And you’re the very one who can do that, Agnes. You must keep a tight rein on my big brother. Don’t let him bully you. He’ll try, you know.”

  Virginia had hoped to tease Agnes out of her weepy state, but her words brought a new rush of tears.

  “Do you know what Rodney means to do to me?”

  Virginia blushed, knowing exactly what her brother—what any groom—intended for his bride after the ceremony.

  She was relieved from having to answer when Agnes blurted out,
“He is leaving, tomorrow morning! Colonel Swan plans to ride out before daybreak. Rodney told me only last night about this. It seems Federal forces are building up around Manassas. There’s to be a big battle and they don’t want to miss it.”

  Virginia’s pulses raced at this news. No doubt that was where Channing was at this very moment. She was half-tempted to take a horse and ride straight to Manassas, straight to her lover.

  “We’ll have only tonight and then he’ll be gone,” Agnes wailed. “I don’t think I can bear it, Virginia.”

  “We can all bear what we must, Agnes. At least you will have one night as Rodney’s wife.” Her tone was level, but barely controlled. “That’s one night more than I had with Channing.”

  “Virginia, I’m so sorry,” Agnes said. “And you’re right. I can bear it, because I must. In wartime we must all make many sacrifices. But, oh, how I had hoped that he could leave me with child!”

  “Agnes!” Virginia wasn’t as shocked as she sounded. It was simply surprising to hear such a thing come out of the mouth of prim and proper Agnes Willingham.

  “Well, it’s true, so why shouldn’t I admit it? Rodney might never come home again. I want a part of him to be with me always. I want to have his baby.”

  “Don’t even think about his not coming back!” Virginia snapped. “You’ll bring bad luck down on all of us. He will come home. And so will Channing, someday, to marry me.”

  “I wish I had your faith and strength,” Agnes replied, weakly.

  “You had better have. We must all muster every ounce we can. We’re going to need that, and more.”

  Hearing her daughter’s raised voice, Melora peeked into the room. “Oh, there you are, Agnes. I’ve been looking for you. Your mother is in the library, waiting to talk to you.”

  The young women exchanged glances. They both guessed the subject of Mrs. Willingham’s mother-daughter talk. It would run the course of instructions on submitting to one’s husband willingly, without showing the least interest or joy in the unpleasant business taking place in the marriage bed. No doubt, Mrs. Willingham would add that the Bible said we were meant to procreate, and therefore it was a necessary evil, in order to produce children and so insure the continuation of the line.