To Whisper Her Name

by Tamera Alexander

  Finally breathing again, Olivia glanced down the table and found Selene’s smile ever bright and hopeful, while Mary discreetly brushed something from her cheek.

  Following dessert, General Harding rose from his seat at the head of the table and conversation fell to a hush. “Before we depart the table this evening, I’d like to make a toast, ladies … if you could somehow bring yourselves to cease jabbering to each other for two minutes straight.”

  Elizabeth and the others laughed at the feigned sternness in his tone, but Olivia thought of Charles again and couldn’t.

  The general raised his water glass. “To Miss Lizzie Hoover, the fair daughter of my first cousin, who has most graciously agreed to coordinate this busy household and keep it operating as it should.” He looked at the opposite end of the table. “You will no doubt help to ease the weight that my dear wife has had resting on her delicate shoulders for far too long.”

  Elizabeth’s pleasant countenance faltered for an instant, shadowed by a frown. Then quickly smoothed.

  “I’m grateful to you, Lizzie,” the general continued, “for coming here not only to serve as our head housekeeper, but to be a part of our family as well. Cheers, everyone!”

  Crystal stemware tinked together amidst the harmony of laughter and whispered welcomes, and Olivia smiled until it almost hurt.

  “And now …” The general turned. “A second toast.”

  Her face grew warm.

  “To Olivia, the daughter of my wife’s dearest friend in the world —”

  And wife of a traitor to the Confederacy whose last name I cannot bring myself to utter, Olivia heard him say in her mind, half certain she read it in his eyes.

  “God rest her dear soul,” the general added softly. “Olivia, we welcome you to Belle Meade … and offer our condolences for your loss and for all you’ve been through in recent days.”

  Olivia’s grip tightened on her glass. Thank you, she mouthed.

  “And looking toward what I hope will be a brighter future, I trust you’ll find yourself settled in most quickly here and that you’ll soon come to enjoy the benefits of living in such a lovely — and lively — setting.” Smiling, he lifted his glass, though not nearly as heartily as he’d done the first time. “Cheers!”

  Crystal stemware tinked again, and they all sipped their water, the sound of servants in the next room drifting toward them.

  Elizabeth reached over and squeezed Olivia’s arm. “Livvy, we’re all so glad you’re here.” Elizabeth’s gaze swept the table, and the other females smiled and nodded. All except for Mary, who dipped her head, her gaze averted much like her father’s.

  Olivia tried not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. “Thank you, Aunt Elizabeth, and to you as well, General Harding” — she looked back at him — “for the kindness and generosity of your invitation to live here. It’s something I’ll never take for granted … I promise.”

  Following dinner, she could hardly wait to escape and get back to her room. Weary, disappointed, and feeling defeated in a way she couldn’t define, she thanked Elizabeth again for the meal, then excused herself.

  “Livvy?” Aunt Elizabeth motioned to Selene, Mary, and Cousin Lizzie, who had their heads together. “The girls are planning a foray into town next week. Perhaps you’d like to join them.”

  The last thing Olivia wanted to do was face anyone in town again, especially after what had happened earlier that day. She caught the none-too-subtle objection in Mary’s expression and read a hint of it in Selene’s, and their feelings about being seen with her in public became all too clear.

  She forced a smile. “Thank you for the invitation, but … I can’t think of anything I need from town at present.”

  Swift relief showed in Mary’s features. And Selene’s.

  “That’s understandable,” Selene offered gently, apologetic. “Since you only just arrived.”

  “Yes, exactly.” Olivia nodded, not blaming the girls for their feelings but still having to hold back the hurt.

  She’d barely reached the foyer when she heard General Harding say her name. She turned, pushing a smile back into place. “Yes, General?”

  “Could I have a word with you in my office, Olivia? I promise it won’t take long.”

  Chapter

  SEVEN

  My office is through here, Olivia.” General Harding led her through the study, and Olivia followed, scanning her surroundings.

  On one wall stood three handsome mahogany cases filled to overflowing with silver cups, pitchers, and trophies. She couldn’t begin to count them. A hundred, at least. And all for the general’s beloved racehorses.

  General Harding opened a door that led to an outside porch. “Mrs. Harding has been after me to have an internal entry to my office installed, so she doesn’t have to come outside to see me.” He opened yet another door and motioned to Olivia to enter. “But I believe it’s best this way. Helps to keep traffic down and my mind focused when I’m in here.”

  He gestured to a chair off to the side of the mahogany secretary, and Olivia took a seat, followed by a very deep breath. The head of a buffalo loomed on the wall beside her, staring down with angry, onyx eyes. Beside it was that of a deer, and Olivia wondered, as she had before, what made people want to hang such things on their walls as decor.

  “As I said a moment ago, Olivia” — General Harding closed the door behind him with a solid click — “I’ll keep this brief. I realize you’re tired and eager to get settled for the night.”

  “No,” she lied. “I’m fine.”

  “My original thought was to delay this conversation until tomorrow.” He settled into the large leather chair opposite hers. “Then I decided that tonight would be more opportune for us both. Best to get some things right out in the open from the beginning, don’t you agree?”

  Wanting to shake her head no, she nodded. “Of course, sir.”

  “First and foremost, I want you to know that —”

  A knock sounded on the door. With an annoyed look, the general excused himself, opened the door, and stepped outside. Olivia overheard the general’s voice as well as another man’s. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the tone of the exchange was terse. A moment later, the general returned.

  “My apologies.” He took his seat again. “That was one of my foremen. A man applied for work today. Vagrant would best describe him.” He sighed, shaking his head. “A stubborn sort with far too much confidence for his own good. I declined to hire him, and he left angry and disgruntled. My foreman wanted to assure me he escorted the man off the property.”

  Ridley Cooper. Olivia looked out the window. It had to be. But she couldn’t see anything or anyone. It was too dark. She turned back and, for absolutely no reason, found herself feeling sorry for the man — rough around the edges though he was — and half wishing the general would have given him a chance.

  “I can read a man’s character upon first meeting,” General Harding continued, “and while this one showed talent, he’s also no good.” His gaze met hers and held. “I knew the same thing about your husband the first time I met him. Talented … but no good.”

  Olivia tensed, the syllabub in her stomach doing a lopsided somersault. No surprise that he wanted to speak with her about Charles … Still, she dreaded hearing whatever it was he wanted to say.

  “We’ll speak of this but once, Olivia, and then I never care to hear the man’s name uttered in my presence — or house — again. While I firmly believe that a man who is a traitor deserves a traitor’s death, what happened to Charles Aberdeen is abominable. The manner in which those men carried out their mission against him, and then paraded his —”

  The general’s lips firmed behind his beard. He stared at her, his grey eyes unflinching, disgust clearly written in his features, and Olivia silently begged — pleaded — for him to move on.

  As if reluctantly granting her wish, he let out his breath. “What they did was beyond the pale. And it’s deeply unfortun
ate that you must bear the sting of embarrassment not only for him, but also for yourself, having been his wife. In my inviting you into this home, you must know that I’m also inviting a certain measure of this shame and reproach upon myself and my family. Upon the reputation of Belle Meade.”

  Olivia inwardly flinched, but held his gaze. None of this was anything she didn’t already know. But hearing him speak so plainly about it, about her life, cut deeply.

  “However, I’m most willing to do it, owing largely to my wife. She holds great affection for you, Olivia, as she did your mother. Elizabeth grieved Rebecca’s passing like that of a dearest sister.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Olivia whispered. “I hold like affection for your wife as well.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, then paused, apparently changing his mind. He laughed softly. “I noticed your … hesitance earlier this evening as Selene was sharing with us about General Jackson.”

  Olivia thought back and answered honestly. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  He smiled. “One of the most important decisions in a father’s life, Olivia, is who his daughter will marry. That decision cannot be taken lightly, nor made in haste. It must be acted upon with lengthy consideration and only after careful study of the man’s character. To do any less would show a lack of regard for the institution of marriage … and for the daughter. Would you not agree?”

  Thinking of Selene and their conversation at dinner, Olivia nodded. But when the general said nothing else, another possibility occurred to her, and Olivia bristled. “With all respect, General Harding, I believe that when my father made the match for me with Charles, he did so with great regard. Nor was his decision made in haste. He honestly believed that —”

  “Olivia.” The general held up a hand, concern lining his features. “I in no way meant any disrespect to your father or his memory. On the contrary, my dear. My intention, clumsy though I now realize it was, was to honor his daughter by assuring her that I’ll show the very same consideration in choosing her next marriage partner as I will show in choosing the partners of my own daughters.”

  Olivia could only stare as the full weight of his meaning slowly settled around her. “M-my next marriage partner?”

  “Yes.” He leaned forward, his smile patient, even fatherly. “As head of this household and … your benefactor, I pledge to find you a husband who is an honorable and upright man. One who will take care of you in the manner that your father would’ve wished. Understandably, we’re not speaking of an imminent betrothal. We need to let time pass, observe the customary mourning period. But I would wager that since the marriage between you and your late husband was not” — he paused — “one of the heart, let’s say, you might indeed find yourself open to another relationship sooner than you may think, if the opportunity presents itself.”

  “But I …” Thoughts were coming so fast, elbowing their way through surprise and confusion, and Olivia struggled to filter them. They weren’t thoughts General Harding would welcome either. As soon as she gave them voice, she knew she would regret it. Because he was — strictly speaking — what he said he was. Her benefactor. She simply hadn’t thought the situation through in that light.

  But the way he’d said if the opportunity presents itself made her wonder if he already had a man in mind. No, that wasn’t possible. Charles had only been gone a week. Still …

  The syllabub curdled in her stomach.

  “It’s not likely,” he continued, “that the gentleman will be anyone from Nashville. Understandably … your situation being as public as it is. But you’re a lovely woman, Olivia. Intelligent and not too old. You’re from a good family. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be able to make a good match for you. You’ll make some man an excellent wife.”

  “But General Harding, I …” How did she voice her resistance to this in a manner that wouldn’t offend him? Or even worse, turn him against her? It wasn’t as if she had other options available to her. “I-I feel that I need to say something to you, and this isn’t easy for me. I —”

  He held up a hand. “You don’t have to thank me, dear. It’s my duty and obligation in an instance such as this, as I told Elizabeth. But it’s also my pleasure. When the time and circumstances are right, I’m sure we’ll both know.”

  Sensing his sincerity and the genuineness of his intention and already having known remarriage was likely in her future, Olivia gauged the wisdom of her response and finally acquiesced. “I’m sure you’re right, General. In time … we’ll know.”

  She rose, eager to be out of this office and back in her room.

  “I’m sorry, Olivia, but there’s one more thing I need to discuss with you.”

  Biting back a sigh, she reclaimed her seat, silently plotting ways to make herself as unappealing as possible to each and every one of his unmarried colleagues. Which wouldn’t be difficult. Especially when placed next to Selene.

  The leather chair creaked as General Harding shifted his weight. “Elizabeth certainly has enjoyed exchanging letters with you through these many months. They’ve been a source of encouragement for her. At her core, my wife is happiest when she’s serving others.”

  “I’m the one who’s grateful to her, sir. Your wife is …” Olivia smiled, thinking of how much Elizabeth meant to her. “She is the kindest and most generous woman I know.”

  “Yes,” he said. “She does indeed possess those qualities in abundance.” He ran a hand along the desk’s edge, his expression pensive, and she realized he wasn’t eager to address whatever it was he wanted to say. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I promised the head housekeeping position to you, then gave it to Lizzie.”

  “The thought did cross my mind, yes, sir. Aunt Elizabeth assured me there will be plenty for me to do, but … I wish to have a purpose. To be helpful. If I’m going to live here, I must contribute in some way.”

  “She told me you said that, and that displays a very commendable trait.” Again that thoughtful consideration. “Are you aware, Olivia, that my wife has been under a physician’s care for quite some time now?”

  She felt a frown. “I knew Aunt Elizabeth struggled with fatigue on occasion, but … no, sir, I didn’t know that.”

  “The doctor’s diagnosis is a ‘greatly weakened constitution,’ likely brought on by the stress she bore throughout my incarceration during —”

  “The war,” she finished for him, remembering the anxious tone of Aunt Elizabeth’s letters during that time. “She carried such a burden during your absence, sir. Not only for Belle Meade, but for your welfare.” Recalling a portion of a letter, she smiled. “She was deeply concerned that you wouldn’t have the clothing you needed and that you would get chilled and suffer poor health.” What she didn’t say was that the clothing Elizabeth had questioned as being warm enough had been his long johns.

  His smile was brief. “She exercised a great amount of concern for me. More so than was necessary, as I assured her in my letters. Many times.”

  “But of course she was concerned, sir. You’re her husband. She loves you very much.”

  “Yes …” He looked away. “And I care for her as well.”

  His matter-of-fact response and lack of emotion took her by surprise. Then she reminded herself to whom she was speaking — General William Giles Harding, a military commander accustomed to war and leading men into battle. A man probably none too comfortable sharing his feelings. Much less his feelings for his wife. With a near stranger.

  “You’re a compassionate person, Olivia. Which is an admirable — and somewhat rare — quality to possess these days.”

  Surprised yet again, she could only whisper, “Thank you, sir.”

  “You took care of your own mother, did you not, while she was ill? Before she passed?”

  Olivia studied him, feeling something shift in the room. And inside her. She swallowed back the haunting sense of regret and remorse that always accompanied the memory of her mother’s passing. “Yes, sir, I d
id.”

  He nodded, then leaned forward. “Which leads me to the reason I’m most grateful you’ve come to live with us. Your presence is unmistakably providential, Olivia, and holds far greater import than managing the household’s activities. Because …” His voice wavered. Only for an instant. But it was enough for her to know she didn’t want to hear whatever it was he was about to say. “Because I need you to help my sweet Elizabeth to die.”

  Chapter

  EIGHT

  Ridley wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve, his back muscles screaming and hunger gnawing at his stomach. Not to mention the pounding in his head. It was dark out, the sun long having set, but still the air in the stable thrummed with heat.

  For the past few hours, at Green’s orders, he’d mucked stalls until he’d lost count of how many loads of manure and urine-soaked hay he’d hauled out, only to haul fresh hay back in. He’d narrowly missed being kicked by the wounded mare he’d seen earlier that day. A stable hand had brought her in about an hour ago and stuck her in the last stall, which had struck him as odd, seeing as this stable housed stallions. The gash on the horse’s leg was bad, and she was downright skittish. Wouldn’t let anyone come near her. Not that he blamed her.

  But he’d done everything Robert Green — or Uncle Bob, as he’d heard men refer to him — had asked him to do and more, sensing the man was testing to see if he was serious about learning. So Ridley wasn’t about to complain. He’d gotten what he’d come for. Or would, soon enough.

  Sighing, he hung the pitchfork and rubbed at a walnut-sized knot on the back of his head. Sore didn’t begin to describe it. It’s what he got for egging that man on earlier, but it had been worth it. He drank his fill from a fresh barrel of water, then eyed the barrel of feed next to it. There was a day when he would’ve eaten it without question and would’ve been grateful for it. It was remarkable, what a man would eat to stay alive.