Anything But Civil
Page 9
I’m glad I paid attention in “dinner table etiquette” class, I thought.
An elaborate display of white gardenias and Christmas tulips in a three-tiered, two-foot vase made of spun sugar, surrounded at the base by red amaryllis flowers, was the centerpiece. I’d seen Mrs. Brendel’s inventory and wondered where Mrs. Reynard had obtained the tulips. They were fresh, beautiful, and would have been extremely difficult to find in any shop.
As we entered, Adella was setting down a place card, as if she had changed her seating arrangements. When her father helped Adella into her chair and then sat down next to her, I knew my hunch had been right. But who did she displace at her side? Lieutenant Triggs escorted me to the table and we discovered that we were sitting beside each other. I was especially grateful that Captain Starrett was at the far end of the table and that Rachel Baines sat on Lieutenant Triggs’s right. She could not speak to me without impolitely leaning over the table or speaking behind the lieutenant’s back. When General Starrett sat down to my left, I knew it was his place that had been swapped with that of his son. I was infinitely grateful to our hostess for sparing me the embarrassment of sitting next to the man who had called my judgment into question.
Despite the strain of earlier, everyone was quickly engaged in polite banter, and the first course was served.
“Your favorite, Father,” Adella cooed when the bluepoint oysters appeared.
“Issac loves them too, don’t you, dear,” Mrs. Holbrook said to her husband, who was rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Henry Starrett took several from the platter, then directed Ambrose to go against protocol and serve Lieutenant Colonel Holbrook next.
“Help yourself, Holbrook. Enjoy!” Henry Starrett said as he popped the first oyster in his mouth. Lieutenant Colonel Holbrook was more than happy to oblige.
Lieutenant Triggs was an attentive dining companion, cajoling me into trying the slimy creatures when they made their way to our plates, but was often distracted by Mrs. Baines, who, not satisfied with monopolizing our host, would ask the lieutenant’s opinion on this or that. At these times, I would either engage the general, if he wasn’t engaged with Mrs. Holbrook, or, most often, listen to the conversation of the others. The men were reminiscing about the war.
It was one of these times when I heard Captain Starrett say, “. . . the sausage had fur growing on it, but we were so desperate for meat, Private Blair shaved it off, and we ate it anyway!” He laughed and pounded his fist on the table.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate dinner talk, Father,” Adella said.
“That reminds me of an amusing story,” Lieutenant Colonel Holbrook said. “One time we got a ration wagon of salt horse and rice. Having eaten nothing but hardtack and weevils for two days, we were excited until we slit open the bags. The beef has gone rancid and the worms had eaten half of the meat before we could!”
“Issac!” his wife remonstrated. “We’re eating dinner!” The veterans all laughed.
“That’s the point, dear,” Lieutenant Colonel Holbrook said. “Henry’s furry sausage would’ve been wonderful. That night we dined on rice, hardtack, and worms.” Henry Starrett burst with laughter, spittle forming on his lips. He wrapped his arms around his middle as his whole body convulsed.
“Good one, Holbrook. Good one,” Henry said as he brought himself under control.
“But not very appetizing, I’m afraid,” Rachel Baines said, pushing her plate away.
“Oh, Father,” Adella said, desperate to change the dinner topic of conversation. “Tell us the Farris’ Camp story.” She turned to Mrs. Powers to her right. “Father told such wonderful stories when I was a little girl.”
“My heart was in my throat, but I kept on,” Captain Starrett said, launching into a tale of terrifying anticipation at approaching an enemy camp. It quickly became apparent to Sir Arthur and me, both of whom had read Grant’s autobiography, that the tale Captain Starrett told was an embellishment of one of Grant’s own recollections. Did any of the others know Henry Starrett was misrepresenting himself? Would they think less of him if they did?
“We approached the hilltop and looked down. The enemy’s camp was visible, but Farris and his men were gone. They’d been more afraid of me than I of them!” Captain Starrett said. “From that moment on, I never felt alarm at facing an enemy again.”
I knew without looking at him, Sir Arthur was livid. What Henry Starrett had done was kin to blasphemy to Sir Arthur. But he held his tongue and when Henry finished, Sir Arthur refrained from joining in the applause that followed. Mrs. Baines, who seemed slightly out of sorts, also kept her hands on her lap.
“Did you know that I served in the war too, Captain Starrett?” Rachel Baines said, stressing Henry Starrett’s rank. All eyes shifted to her and she beamed.
“Astonishing, Mrs. Baines,” Frederick Reynard said. “How extraordinary!”
“Yes, I was a nurse.” She batted her eyelashes and looked away, feigning false modesty. “I was not yet twenty when I served on my first hospital ship.” The questions for Mrs. Baines spilled across the table to the delight of the woman.
“Where did you serve?”
“Did you see any of the fighting?”
“Were you ever in danger?”
“Did you ever faint from seeing so much blood?”
“I thought Dorothea Dix only allowed old and plain nurses? How did such a beautiful, young lady get by Miss Dix?” Rachel Baines especially relished this last one.
“My father piloted a hospital ship for a while, didn’t you, Father?” Adella said. The comment made Rachel Baines frown. She looked at Henry Starrett, who was staring intensely at her.
“Mostly served as a transport out of St. Louis, but yes, I did pilot a hospital ship, for a short while,” he said. “Maybe our paths even crossed once, Mrs. Baines. I do remember a pretty little nurse in Cairo.” He smiled and winked at Mrs. Baines, whose face reddened, but a slight smile tugged at her lips.
“Oh, you’d remember, Captain Starrett,” John Baines said. “My wife is unforgettable, especially on a battlefield!” He smiled broadly at her and raised his glass slightly in a personal toast. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded to her husband’s compliment. She quickly engaged Frederick in conversation.
A few minutes elapsed and I was chatting with General Starrett about Sir Arthur’s book when I heard Mrs. Kaplan say, “Mr. Reynard, you never did tell me the story of that young girl.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her indicate me with a nod. I held my breath until Captain Starrett was distracted and regaling his daughter and Priscilla Triggs with a story about one of his steamboat adventures.
“Miss Davish saved our daughter, Gertrude,” Frederick Reynard said, “who had fallen through the ice on the river.”
“How did a slip of a girl like that,” Mrs. Kaplan said, pointing to me with a shaking hand, “save your daughter?”
“She crawled across the ice and used her cloak to pull Gertie to safety.”
“Remarkable,” the old woman said.
“Captain Starrett does have a point, though,” Mrs. Baines interjected. “It was foolish of her not to wait for the men.”
“Actually, the men wouldn’t have been able to do it,” Sir Arthur said, stabbing his fillet of beef with a fork. “Too heavy.”
“So it was the very fact that she’s made like a twig made her your daughter’s perfect rescuer!” Mrs. Holbrook declared.
“Yes,” Frederick said, “you could say that.”
I looked down at myself. I’m not that thin, I thought.
“Then she should’ve waited and let Mrs. Reynard do it,” Mrs. Baines said before she realized how inane she sounded.
“Certainly not,” Frederick said. “I wouldn’t have my wife endangering herself like that.”
“But it’s okay that Sir Arthur’s secretary did?” Mrs. Kaplan said. Sir Arthur glared at Frederick Reynard, anticipating his answer.
“Well, um.” I was too far down the table to deflect
the conversation away from me but was grateful for once that Mrs. Baines was determined to do so.
“It’s not important who saved Mr. Reynard’s sweet little girl, is it? But the fact that she’s safe now. I’m sure any one of us would’ve done all we could to see her well.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Frederick said, relieved to see Sir Arthur’s ire mollified by Mrs. Baines’s comment. “Though we’ll all feel better when—”
Crash! The sound of a tray dropping stopped all conversation. Ambrose, who had been serving at the table, appeared with a salver in his hand.
“Is everything all right, Ambrose?” Frederick asked.
“Yes, sir, nothing for you to worry about, sir. But a gentleman is here to see Captain Starrett.”
“Well, tell him I’m having dinner with guests, man,” the captain said, his face flush.
“Yes, sir, but he refuses to leave, at least until I deliver his card, sir.”
“Give it to me then.” Ambrose offered him the salver, and Henry snatched up the card. The captain’s face blanched.
“Is everything all right, Father?” Adella said, placing a hand on his arm. “Do you need to see this man?”
Henry Starrett stood up and tossed his napkin on his chair. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He staggered slightly. When he opened the door, I could see the reflection of Mott in a mirror that hung in the hall. He smiled when he saw Captain Starrett. Then the door closed behind them.
“That boy never did abide proper manners. Does everything his own way,” General Starrett said, shaking his head but chuckling. “But never a dull moment, I grant you.” He seemed to be the only one who found the interruption amusing.
“Papa, our guests,” Adella said under her breath. “I’m sure Father will be back momentarily. Ambrose, will you please bring in the next course?”
CHAPTER 12
But Captain Starrett didn’t return momentarily. In fact, he hadn’t returned by the time the first dessert course, Mrs. Monday’s chocolate truffle cookies, was served.
Where is he? I wondered. Why hadn’t he returned, even to excuse himself to his guests? And what role did Mr. Mott play in Captain Starrett’s absence? By the look on Adella’s face, I wasn’t the only one wondering where her father had gone. It’d been hours and the conversation had begun to lull. Several guests, who were animated and full of conversation at the beginning of the night, seemed to grow weary. I didn’t know if it was due to the late hour or the heaviness of the food or both, but I too was feeling the effects. In fact, the confection I’d looked forward to seemed to turn my stomach. I refused the fruit and cheese courses and longed only for my bed. But when Adella signaled that we would all retire to the parlor, I knew it would be considered rude if I didn’t stay at least a while longer. My feelings were reflected in the countenance of Priscilla Triggs, and Mrs. Kaplan snored quietly in the corner armchair, but to my surprise most of the gentleman too seemed to let somnolence overtake them. Sir Arthur, on the other hand, who was used to long dinner parties and rarely went to bed before two in the morning, was in high spirits and entertained some of the ladies with his story of meeting the Queen.
At one point I heard Adella Reynard exclaim, “I’d love to see England, Sir Arthur!”
“Why, with all your travel books, I’m surprised to hear you’ve never been there, Mrs. Reynard.”
“I’ve never been anywhere but Chicago,” Adella confessed, eliciting a round of laughter. I don’t think she was joking.
The general too seemed himself, but I wasn’t surprised when he announced he was retiring early.
“Good night, Papa,” Adella said, kissing the old man on his forehead. “Sleep well.”
After the old man’s departure, Adella left momentarily to check on her children. As soon as she’d left the room I heard John Baines say, “What do you suppose happened to Henry Starrett? He had a visitor and then never did come back. And what was all that talk of burning down the copperhead’s house?”
“I know,” Mrs. Baines said, putting her hand to her throat. “I’ve never been so insulted by a host in my life. He barely addressed me and then disappeared. His behavior was inexcusable.”
“He addressed you with compliments and flattery, my dear,” her husband said. “What more do you want, his undivided attention?” He laughed halfheartedly and his eye twitched again.
“Oh, John,” Mrs. Baines said, dismissing her husband’s comment with a flip of her head and a wave of her hand. John Baines furrowed his brow. His retort was stifled by Adella’s cheerful return.
I engaged Frederick Reynard in conversation on the topic of exotic plants. He became animated, his breath fast and shallow.
“Where is your greenhouse, Mr. Reynard?”
Although I hadn’t gone on the G.A.R. home tour, I had made a point of walking by the late Dr. Kittoe’s home before my hike this morning. I’d learned from Sir Arthur’s research that Dr. Kittoe had been an avid gardener and greenhouse plant grower, so I suffered a twinge of sadness and disappointment that Mrs. Kittoe, the Civil War surgeon’s widow, now left the structure empty. Remembering this emboldened me to ask Frederick Reynard about his obviously prospering greenhouse in hopes of getting a tour.
“It’s attached to the carriage house. Adella didn’t want me tracking dirt through the house.” He tilted his head slightly. “How did you know I had a greenhouse, Miss Davish?”
“I enjoy collecting plants myself and was admiring both the amaryllis on your lapel and the cut flowers in the centerpiece. I’ve been to the shops in town and only someone with a private greenhouse would have freshly cut tulips this time of the year.”
“You do have a sharp eye,” he said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. His face was growing flush. “Yes, growing plants is my passion, Miss Davish. Right now, I’m growing tulips, gardenia, citrus, amaryllis, narcissus, carnations, azalea, hibiscus, and of course several varieties of rose. My Christmas cacti are in full bloom. Are you interested in seeing my greenhouse, Miss Davish?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“It’s settled then. I’ll speak to Sir Arthur tomorrow. I’m sure he can spare you—”
“Help! Help!” The old general’s cries of distress came from down the hall. “For pity’s sake, will somebody help!”
We all leaped from our seats and ran to see what had befallen the general. But to my surprise this small exertion caused me distress. I felt light-headed when I rose from my chair and my head was pounding by the time I reached the library. I looked to Mrs. Triggs standing next to me. Her face was flush and damp. So was that of her husband.
If I hadn’t already felt ill, the disarray before me would’ve made me swoon. I grabbed the back of the nearest chair. The library where I’d spent many hours with Sir Arthur and the general had been completely ransacked. The desk drawers were open, books were overturned, and papers were strewn about the room. Fragments of red glass, sparkling in the gaslight, lay scattered across the floor. One of the lantern-shaped cigar lighters had been smashed to pieces. It would take hours to bring the room back to order. And then I saw it: the safe, a small, steel box with a brass plate that read: Fire and Thief Resist; the door was open and it was empty.
“Papa!” Adella cried, running to her grandfather as everyone else slowly filtered into the room. “Are you all right?”
“What happened?” Frederick Reynard asked.
“We’ve been robbed!” the general declared. “And whoever did it attacked Henry.” He pointed behind the settee. We hadn’t noticed Henry lying there before. Of the large man all I could see was a hint of his black dress jacket and his feet sticking out beyond the sofa.
Adella screamed and fainted into her husband’s arms. Under her unexpected weight Frederick lost his balance, and they both collapsed onto the settee.
“My God!” John Baines said, his eye twitching incessantly, as his wife bolted to the prone figure’s side.
“Is he dead?” Morgan Triggs asked.
“Call a doctor,” Sir Arthur said to Mrs. Becker, the housekeeper, hovering outside the library door. She lifted her skirts and ran.
“This is outrageous,” John Baines said, his words slightly slurred. “Who could’ve done this?”
“That copperhead Henry’s been antagonizing, Enoch Jamison, comes to mind,” Mrs. Holbrook said. Several heads nodded.
Sir Arthur walked over and inspected the safe. “What was in here, General?”
“Money, stock, bonds.” The general held an unlit cigar. His hand was shaking.
“Can you tell if anything else is missing?” Sir Arthur said.
“No, I’ll have to go through it all to know,” General Starrett said.
“When could this have happened?” Mrs. Powers said.
“It must’ve been while we were all at dinner,” Lieutenant Colonel Holbrook said, he too growing red in the face.
“Now we know why Captain Starrett didn’t return to the dining room,” Mrs. Baines said.
“Yes, while we dined and laughed, Henry was lying here fighting for his life,” Mrs. Kaplan said, seeming to approve of the gasps her comment elicited.
“I read in the Gazette about a string of burglaries of late,” Lieutenant Colonel Holbrook said, wiping a handkerchief across his brow.
“Yes, I have too,” Sir Arthur said. “But those were all businesses and no one had been hurt.”
“Maybe the culprit is branching out,” Mrs. Kaplan said, “and burglarizing people in their homes. Henry must’ve surprised the thief, who then attacked him.”