by Mary Ellis
“It is you who owes me an explanation.” She pulled from his grasp and stepped around the chair, as though to place a barrier between them. “I couldn’t sleep after our eventful garden stroll. I paced the verandah and watched you ride off in the night. Perhaps to visit someone else?”
“I didn’t leave to go to another woman if that is what you are implying.” He refilled his glass at the sideboard. “I had pressing business at first light that was a good distance away. You take me for a man of leisure, but Hunt Farms needs income to survive.” Alexander held out a glass to her.
Emily shook her head. “Absolutely not. Spirits are the reason I ended up with you in the garden. What if someone had seen us kissing so indiscreetly that night? I would have been dismissed.”
“No, you would not have been. My family knows of my affection for you, Emily.” He walked over to her, leaned over the chair back, and kissed her forehead.
“Then they are aware of something I am not.” She held up her hand to stave off interruption. “And of something I don’t wish to encourage. My behavior was a mistake, a lapse of judgment that won’t be repeated. I don’t dally in romance as a casual pastime the way you and your compatriots do.”
“My compatriots? What an odd choice of words.”
“You Southerners turn love into a sporting event. Why, I would bet you and your friends wager on romantic conquests.”
“You are the one making a wager on love, Emily.”
A blush rose up her neck. “That was an unfortunate choice of words, nothing more.”
“For a woman who has spent little time in the South, you certainly have strong opinions about how we live our lives.” Alexander’s agitation grew by the moment.
“I believe I’ve seen enough to form an opinion. One doesn’t have to wallow in the barnyard. A person usually gets the general idea from a whiff and a glance.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “That is how you view our life at Hunt Farms…of my parents and me…as pigs wallowing in mud?”
Emily drew in a strangled breath and lowered her eyes. “I beg your pardon. I have no wish to insult your parents, sir. They showed me nothing but kindness during my visit.”
“Then your only desire was to insult me?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Again, I chose my words poorly. What I’m trying to say is that our divergent backgrounds make the possibility of a liaison impossible.”
“Whew, that was a mouthful! You truly are a schoolmarm from head to toe.” Alexander downed the rest of his lemonade. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you mean you find me unappealing?”
“No, Mr. Hunt. I—”
“That you thought our dinner on the terrace was a crushing bore?”
“No, but—”
“Perhaps you find my family to be porcine curmudgeons that repel you upon every acquaintance, totally inappropriate for a woman of your tender sensibilities?”
“Mr. Hunt, please allow me to speak for myself!” she hissed. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “I find your family endearing, dinner with you more pleasurable than I could have imagined, and you to be…reasonably attractive.”
“Then what seems to be the problem?”
“Only that when I’m in your presence, I can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. That would not make for a satisfactory relationship!” Emily’s voice was close to a roar.
Suddenly, they heard someone clear their throat in the doorway. Mrs. Bennington leaned against the doorjamb for support. With her hand over her mouth, she appeared to be stifling giggles.
“Forgive me, ma’am,” murmured Emily. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice in your home.”
“Think nothing of it. Alexander often affects people that way. I’ve noticed it on several occasions before.” Straightening from the doorjamb, Mrs. Bennington leaned heavily on her cane.
Emily hurried forward to take her arm. “Please let me help you.”
“I only wished to let you know Porter has returned and dinner is about to be served.” She pulled away from Emily’s support. “Thank you, my dear, but I feel strong today.” She stepped into the hallway and then paused to look back. “Alexander, please escort Miss Harrison to the table if you can promise to be on your best behavior. Stop tormenting her. You really can be a thorn in one’s foot.”
He smiled. “I will put forth an extraordinary effort to be polite, despite my natural predisposition.” He held out his forearm to a much paler Emily. “Under those terms, may I have the honor of escorting you to the dining room?”
Emily waited until assured her employer was out of earshot before speaking. “How can you make light of this? She overheard us arguing. I am mortified—no other word describes it. Now she knows of our flirtation. I could simply die of shame right here on the spot.” Indeed, her face had taken on a deathly pallor.
“ ’Tis a natural thing for two people to fall in love. It happens all the time. My aunt is aware of human inclinations. She’s borne two fine daughters if you recall.”
“Stop changing the subject.” Emily stomped her foot. “I don’t wish to lose my position over your folly. This sort of thing doesn’t happen all the time to me.”
“That could be what’s causing your discomfort. Taking moonlit strolls arm in arm, kissing in hidden alcoves, and sneaking away to be alone is much like riding a horse. If you get thrown, the best course of action is to climb back up and give it another try.” He took her hand, placed it on his forearm, and clamped his hand securely over it. “Shall we hurry along? My stomach growls for sustenance.”
“It doesn’t happen to me because I do not allow it.” Emily enunciated as though speaking to a small child. “And I most assuredly won’t get back on this particular horse.”
“We’ll just see about that.” When they were a few paces from the dining room, he stopped and lifted her chin with one finger. “Soon it will be unsafe for my aunt and uncle to remain in Martinsburg. If you stay in their employ, and I certainly hope you do, you will be moving to Hunt Farms. Perhaps then you will gain a better understanding of our lives and will see things more objectively.”
As she tried to pull away he tightened his grip and his eyes grew serious. “And if you come, Miss Harrison, I expect you to return my parents’ hospitality with like behavior, and do nothing that could cause their ruin.” He released her face and they entered the dining room for what proved to be an interminable meal—the Benningtons’ last in Martinsburg.
Alexander had much to mull over during his long ride back to Front Royal. Riding off in the middle of the night to meet someone else? She thought he’d ridden off to another woman. What kind of depraved soul did she think him? He could never do such a thing, not since meeting her. He hated all the lies and deception, first to his parents and now to Emily. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t tell her the truth. No matter how sweet her face or how tender her lips, she was a Yankee, born and bred. And this Yankee was up to something. The memory of her emerging from that barn in Berryville was embedded in his mind. Yet he still hadn’t demanded an explanation for her behavior. A part of him, deep and hidden, didn’t want to know.
Emily had never been to a harvest ball, at least nothing remotely like this. Because many guests had come from afar, the event would be an all-day affair and would carry into the next day as well. An afternoon picnic was planned on the lawn with games set up for both ladies and gentlemen. Small boats, kites, and ponies would entertain the young guests under the watchful eyes of their nannies. Silent, uniformed servants set up long trestle tables in the shade and would place delicious delicacies on them throughout the day. Guests could partake of food and beverages whenever they chose. Ladies usually napped in the late afternoon, while gentlemen could find coffee and brandy in the cool interior of Mr. Hunt’s study. A light supper would be set out on the back portico for anyone hungry, and then the ball would begin at nine o’clock. A formal dinner would be served in the dining salon at midnight. Thereafter, revelers could dance until dawn, retire to
guest rooms if they wished, or begin their journey home. A meal would be served at noon in the dining room for guests who had stayed overnight.
With amazement Emily watched families arrive in handsome broughams throughout the morning, while young men rode in on fine steeds. Wagons followed behind carrying grooms, valets, and maids, along with the trunks of formal attire for the partygoers and pastries and wine for their hosts. Neighbors who had come to Emily’s home had worn one outfit the entire day, and their gift to her parents was usually a bowl of snap beans. As buggies stopped at the front steps, Emily greeted the new arrivals and then carried food down to the cool, subterranean kitchen. Maids arranged pastries and canapés on silver trays, which had been accented with fresh flowers or sprays of ferns. Trays would be brought up to the appropriate luncheon, supper, after-ball dinner, or breakfast.
“How do these women manage to keep such slim figures, considering the number of meals served during social events?” she whispered to Lila as they carried down another rum cake.
Lila rolled her eyes. “These ladies don’t eat much, Emily. They pick a little at this or taste a little of that.” Lila demonstrated using two fingers and an imaginary food. “They never eat until they’re full.”
“What happens if they sample something they really like?” Emily slipped a strawberry tart from a tray. She broke it in two, popped half into her mouth, and then held out the other half.
Lila glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then popped it in her mouth. “Doesn’t make any difference if they think it tastes like heaven itself. They would never eat much and risk being thought of as common folk.” Lila pressed the backs of her fingers to her mouth. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
“None taken. That sounds wasteful and silly to me, putting out an array of food for people to just push around their plates with a fork. That’s not what the Lord intended.” Emily slipped a layered petit four off the tray. This time she wasn’t so lucky.
“And the Good Lord didn’t intend for you two to be gobbling up sweets down here.” Beatrice’s booming voice nearly lifted them from their shoes. “Shoo, Miss Harrison. The picnic is out on the lawn. Lila, your mama needs help at the tables.” The cook shook her long white apron at them with a scowl.
“Doesn’t it bother you that you must work today while I’m permitted to behave as a guest?” asked Emily on their way up the steps. “We are both paid employees.”
Lila pulled the petit four from her friend’s fingers and devoured it in two bites. “Not in the least.” She skipped off toward the buffet.
But it bothered Emily. Even if this had been Lila’s day off, she wouldn’t have been allowed to mingle among the guests and enjoy the festivities.
After a short search, Emily found Mrs. Bennington walking the grounds with a woman wearing an outrageous hat. It was broad-brimmed in a bright shade of blue and had several ostrich feathers sticking from the ribbon. Lifting two glasses of lemonade off of a waiter’s tray, Emily carried them to the ladies. “Good afternoon,” she murmured in a musical tone. “Are you thirsty?”
“Ah, Emily, there you are. Let’s sit somewhere in the shade.” Mrs. Bennington pointed toward the rose garden.
Emily waited until both ladies were seated on a bench before handing them their drinks. Because the bench was only large enough for two, she plopped down on the grass at their feet…and noticed their shocked expressions too late. The back of Emily’s stiff hoop caught beneath her, causing the front to tip up and display her lacy petticoats and the bottom of her pantaloons. Mrs. Bennington merely chuckled, but the lady with the monstrosity of a hat almost fainted. Because the dress was so snug, Emily was trapped on the ground, unable to get the hoop out from beneath her.
Then, without warning, two strong hands hooked under her arms to hoist her upright, free from the clothing. “There you go, Miss Harrison. Did you lose your balance and take a tumble? Nasty things—hoops. You really can’t sit down in them, can you?” Alexander steadied her with one hand and brushed grass off her backside with the other, adding to the shock of Mrs. Ostrich Feathers.
“Thank you, Mr. Hunt, for assisting me.” Emily slapped his hand away from her dress. “Yes, I lost my balance, but I’m fine now.” She desperately tried to recover her dignity. He was so close she could smell his shaving soap.
Alexander rested his hand on the small of Emily’s back. “Wasn’t it a Yankee who invented the hoop, Aunt Augusta?”
“No, I believe the gentleman was a Parisian. Please take Miss Harrison to get something cool to drink. She looks a bit peaked. And remember what I told you about tormenting people.” His aunt smiled fondly at him.
“It would be my pleasure.” He winked at her and then bowed to the other woman.
“Excuse me, please, ma’am.” Seething, Emily bobbed her head and retreated to the house with Alexander on her heels.
“Emily, hold up there before you take another tumble. You had better spend the remainder of the picnic in my company. That way I can be certain you won’t throw yourself prostrate into the clover and not be able to get up. That fetching new dress came all the way from Paris, didn’t it?” He sounded quite amused with himself.
She stopped and gazed down at her attire, still dotted with bits of grass. “Your mother ordered this gown from France? I’m shocked by such an expensive gift. I had no idea.”
“Yes. She respects your wish not to wear anything made by slave hands, even if most of our household help are now free workers.”
“Why would she do such a thing and pay such a dear price for a gift to her sister’s governess?”
“Maybe because she suspects you are more to me than her sister’s governess.” Alexander leaned over and kissed her lightly on the mouth.
His kiss was more like a caress than a kiss, but the bottom fell from her stomach just the same. “Please…someone could see us.” Emily glanced around. Sure enough, several young women strolling between the house and pond had witnessed the kiss. A middle-aged couple stopped in their tracks and stared openly.
“And what if someone does? I am their host. My behavior is above reproach.”
“I forgot you’ve had more experience with these types of theatrical performances.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m no thespian. That kiss was an honest expression of my affection for you.”
“But you’ve shocked the guests with your forward behavior. Kisses on the lawn without benefit of a parasol for privacy must be curtailed.” Emily tried to infuse merriment into her words.
Alexander glanced toward the pond and then the house. He spotted the women watching them and whispering behind their fans. “I see what you mean, Emily. You have captured the competition’s attention. Soon we’ll have ladies throwing themselves down on the lawn in great numbers in hopes of being rescued by their host.” He laughed with amusement.
“Then they would be mistaken, because I’m nothing more to you than your aunt’s governess. And I assure you, Mr. Hunt, that is all I ever will be.” Her cheeks flushed as she remembered her behavior a few minutes ago.
She then walked away with a swiftness that belied the constriction of her attire. She lost herself in a sea of guests milling down the portico steps onto the lawn. For some inexplicable reason, she would have given anything not to look silly in front of his refined friends. How she appeared to these vapid aristocrats had never mattered to her before. But it mattered dearly to her now. Her knees felt weak and tears prickled her eyes, but she held them back.
The last thing she needed was to start crying.
“And I assure you, Emily Harrison, you will become much more than that, and maybe as soon as tonight.” Alexander muttered under his breath.
Why he kept chasing after a woman who continued to spurn him remained one of life’s mysteries. He had wealth, success in business, and the respect of men from the highest level in the Confederacy. Almost any belle present would welcome his attentions and be happy to allow him to court her. But it was this pridefu
l Yankee’s esteem he coveted and couldn’t seem to earn. She remained an elusive mystery beyond his reach…one that could very well lead to his undoing.
Admittedly, Emily adored the new gift from Mrs. Hunt. Back in the refuge of her room, she took off the dress to pick off the remaining blades of grass and dab at a small stain with a damp cloth. The beautiful garment was a confection of white organdy dotted with blue flowers, with a wide white collar at the neckline and a matching sash at the tightly fitted waist. It was the dastardly hoop that had caused trouble. Emily hung the dress back in her meager wardrobe and stretched out on the chaise by the open window. It felt strange to be back at Hunt Farms. They had packed their belongings and Dr. Bennington’s medical equipment into two wagons and the carriage and left Martinsburg within two days of Alexander’s visit.
He had left immediately after the agonizing dinner, according to the report by the self-appointed spy, Lila. Alexander had noticed Lila peeking from the curtains and waved farewell. He had tipped his hat and called, “I’m sure William will join us in welcoming your return to Hunt Farms.”
For once, she had been speechless, and Emily had a good laugh at her expense. At first they both had been so happy to be back with the Hunts, but now Emily wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t strong like her mother. She could easily fall prey to Alexander’s attentions. Though she knew she could never mean anything to him, she was drawn to him like a bee to nectar. Here in his Front Royal plantation, she felt like a guest, not an employee. And Mrs. Bennington, for some odd reason, seemed to encourage that. She rarely let Emily read to her anymore or help with dressing or lend a hand with personal correspondence. With so little for her to do, she begged Dr. Bennington to allow his daughters to return from Europe. Their recent correspondence indicated they missed their parents sorely. And the endearing letters they sent to her attention made her heart swell with joy. She needed something to occupy her time when not helping refugee slaves along their path to freedom. Too much time on her hands allowed only one thing: daydreaming about Alexander, a man who could never be her husband, no matter how tender his kiss or how soothing his touch.
