“Mr. Williams, are you quite…” Veronica was cut off as he turned to open the first bedroom door. “What are you doin’? That’s my father’s room—no one goes into my father’s room!” Astonished, she watched him guiltily shut the door. It was odd enough that Brad seemed to instinctively know the layout of her house so that as her stride sped up to catch her rage, he dutifully followed. But to brazenly open a bedroom door as though he was a resident! “What has gotten into you, Mr. Williams? This is my house, please allow me to be the guide.”
Nodding, Brad fretfully combed his fingers through his hair. “Of course. I was merely trying to protect you, as is my duty.” He watched her turn a shade brighter. Good. Veronica deserved to feel ill at ease every once in a while, especially since this entire trip had made him feel quite uncomfortable.
Clearing her throat, Veronica turned to the door across the hall from her father’s. “This is my momma’s room,” she cautiously opened the door, hoping not to catch her mother unawares, and praying to find her mother present. She threw open the door and exclaimed in surprise. Brad immediately jumped forward, his arm out to shield her.
“Mr. Williams, stop it!” Veronica laughed, pushing his arm down so she could see. “You make me laugh with your inane sense of duty. I was merely commentin’ on the fact that I cannot find my mother in my own house!” Brad guessed at her worry through her trembling tone.
“I wouldn’t either, if I lived here,” Madge muttered behind her glove to Amy.
“Our house is much cozier,” Amy observed in reply, as she and Madge followed Veronica and Brad to the next door down.
“These are guest rooms. There’s nothin’ there,” Veronica murmured, pointing to the rooms adjoining her parents’ and the two rooms after that. “The last room on the right is my bedroom, and the one on the left was my tutor’s. Must be a guestroom, now.”
“I wondered how you became so educated, living in the thick of the countryside,” Madge exclaimed. She threw her hand to her mouth, much too late to stop her thoughts from escaping. To her surprise, Veronica laughed.
“Yes, well, I suppose that’s what Daddy thought, too. He thought if I had a tutor, he’d keep me out of the way. I would learn everythin’ a girl needs to learn, and I’d be a prize catch as a wife. He never thought I’d learn to think.” Veronica turned to her bedroom, surprised when the door swayed open. “How odd—no one is permitted in hear unless I authorize it,” she peeked around the door’s edge, practically falling into the room.
Brad pushed open the door, reaching for her arm for it seemed certain she would faint. “What is it?” he turned to see what she gaped at, and blinked in surprise. “Mrs. Vernon?”
Amy and Madge crowded the door, eager to see the woman who had eluded them thus far. They peeked around Veronica’s stiff frame, but could see nothing. “Ronnie, what is it?” Madge finally demanded, pinching Veronica’s arm.
Veronica brushed Madge off like a fly, and looked at Brad, who seemed as confused as she. How was it that he unconsciously mirrored everything she felt?
Brad frowned. This was not Veronica’s father, who supported her mother’s unresponsive body. Glancing at Veronica he smiled, hoping she could pull strength from it. “Miss Vernon,” Brad murmured, touching her arm, “Miss Vernon, you must take control of the situation.” He glanced at the man who watched him too closely for comfort.
Veronica’s eyes narrowed. It was odd enough to find her uncle in her bedroom, but odder still to watch him attempt to awaken her fainted mother. “Uncle, what have you done?” she demanded, striding to her bureau to whip out a handkerchief and smelling salts. Gently waving them before her mother, wishing the rage and heat behind her eyes would burn through her uncle’s head.
“I haven’t done anythin’, and I do not appreciate that tone you seem so comfortable takin’ with me. As your father, I will not permit…”
Veronica dropped the salts to the floor, backing away. “You are mistaken, Uncle…” Turning to find Amy and Madge had entered to witness her shock, Veronica grabbed Brad’s arm and shoved the three Yankees from the room.
“Veronica—Veronica come back here!” her uncle shouted as she slammed the door.
Dazedly, Veronica realized she still wore her bonnet. With shaking fingers, she attempted to untie it and found herself waging war against a knot. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing to attempt calmness. Feeling her bonnet strings move, she blinked to reveal Brad gently working the knot away. Forgetting everything about her uncle and mother, Veronica blushed.
“Thank you, Mr. Williams,” she said, pulling out her hatpin and dragging the bonnet from her head, ignoring Amy and Madge’s smiles, though it irritated her more than she let on.
“Miss Vernon, what has happened? Should we leave?”
“Leave! I will never forgive you if you should decide to leave. This is inexcusable.”
Madge stepped forward with a handkerchief, which Veronica gladly received. “I don’t understand, Ronnie. It is a common occurrence, for a widow to marry her husband’s brother if he be single; why is this so upsetting?” she flinched as Veronica whipped around, certain she would be struck.
“Because he is evil.” Setting her teeth, Veronica opened the door to find her uncle guiding her semi-conscious mother from the room. “I was just about to ask you to leave, Uncle. This is my room, and as I am sure you know, you are not permitted to enter.” As he left, Veronica ushered the Yankees into her sitting room, emphatically slamming the door. “I’m sorry. I had not expected my homecomin’ to be anythin’ like this.”
“It’s all right, Ronnie, we do not blame you on any occasion,” Amy assured, sitting on the sofa with Madge. She glanced about the room, finding it happily decorated.
The room was an average-sized square, painted a soft green to cover the whitewash. Everything was in tones of brown, auburn and gold. The sofa was beneath the window, which Veronica more than likely used for inspiration, and behind a cedar hope chest which presently served as a coffee table. To the left sat the bureau—probably housing gloves and whatnot.
The other far corner housed the fireplace, which seemed to heat both rooms, since it shared Veronica’s bedroom wall. There were two chairs before the inglenook, close enough to provide warmth but far enough away so as not to burn the occupants. Amy smiled as she watched Veronica motion to Brad that he take one of the seats.
“What am I to do, Mr. Williams?” Veronica concealed a smile as she watched Brad jump, surprised that he be consulted for advice.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, leaning forward to catch her low tone.
“I’d like to kill him, but since Momma must have married him of her own accord as a way to escape the responsibilities of ownin’ a plantation, I suppose I can’t.”
“No, I don’t think killing your uncle would be the correct solution,” Brad solemnly agreed, though his eyes sparked with amusement. “Do you think perhaps if you sat down to talk with him, you might strike some sort of an agreement?”
“No. I will not sit down with him only to listen to an earful of preachin’. I get enough from you.”
“Miss Vernon, I have not preached to you once this entire trip. And I am insulted that you seem to think I find you so imperfect that I must continually preach. You have your own opinions, and you have cause to have them—you are grown and I have no right to preach to you,” Brad hissed in return, keeping his tone low and deceptively calm.
Veronica leaned back, surprised by his reply. This was certainly a change from the Brad she knew previously. “I have known you in your most real moments, Mr. Williams. You will insult me if you are not real now.”
“And when have I shown you my true self?” Surely, she was not referring to the carriage tête-à-tête—it had been in jest. Or, at least it had begun in jest. Frowning, Brad decided he would have to refrain from acting so…congenially. It had been a definite mistake, stepping forward to untie her bonnet strings. Amy or Madge could have easily done
the same, and yet he had waved them aside so he could aide Veronica in her moment of distress. Entirely uncalled for, on his part.
“Are you seriously askin’ me whether or not I don’t see you watchin’ me when you think I couldn’t possibly know? Or that even hearin’ my voice makes you smile? You reveal too much to a woman who has been scorned by you, Mr. Williams.”
“I never thought of it that way, Nettle.”
Veronica laughed. “You only call me that when you’re mad at me.”
“What is goin’ on over there, Ronnie?” Amy burst. “I am done with bein’ kept unawares.”
“You seem to find it a quarter as unpleasant as I found it—it is not fun, bein’ kept in the cold, is it, Miss Williams? Perhaps you understand, to some extent, my dismay in Richmond?” Veronica commented, placidly removing her gloves and throwing them to her lap. She looked up to find both Brad and Amy looking miserably guilty, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Amy, you have been callin’ me Ronnie for a long time, now—do not think I will never forgive you.”
Watching Brad’s face fall perhaps another inch, she murmured, “Don’t forget, Mr. Williams, you masqueraded as a very dear friend; forgiveness must be earned to regain what trust I had with you. For all I know, Amy merely hid your presence so I would not be angered at seein’ you in a place I considered a haven from all the tumult you cause me.”
A calm knocking on the door made them jump. “You may enter,” Veronica said.
“Is that…? Ronnie!” Bella sped into the room, practically knocking aside Madge in the process. Brad and Amy struggled to contain their mirth as Madge’s face took on a look of disbelief and anger at being slighted. “Ronnie, dear, why did you not write a letter announcin’ your arrival?” she asked between extended periods of squeezing the breath from her daughter.
“Momma, I did write a letter. How do you think I got here in the first place?” Veronica laughed, slipping easily into her native accent. She hugged her mother just as tightly, though her gaze was sharp as she watched Brad and Amy exchange uneasy looks.
“Who picked you up? Not Elijah…oh, dear. I begged Matthew not to send Elijah for you whenever you came home, but he must have forgotten. It has been so awfully long since you’ve been home, but my dear, how well you have grown! To think it has been two years since I’ve seen you—I’m quite proud, you know. I’m impressed with how long you’ve sedated Bentley’s constant proposin’.” Bella paused, as though this sudden rush of affection upset her countenance.
“Momma, what happened just moments ago? We came in here to find you fainted in the arms of mine Uncle! And this—this is most shockin’, Momma, you will have to speak with him severely. Uncle claims that he is my father! My father, of all people. I know how much you dislike him, Momma, this cannot be true. Don’t look at me that way…”
“Obviously, your upbringin’ with my friends was not enough to teach you what is proper to speak of before guests,” Bella exclaimed, glancing at Veronica’s friends.
Blushing, Veronica stiffly curtseyed to her mother and quickly replied, “Momma, these are my companions: Miss Amelia Williams, my roommate at Mrs. Beaumont’s; Miss Rachel Williams, and Mr. Bradley Williams, cousins of Amy. They are my confidantes and most trusted. Anythin’ that I say in all events will and should be heard by at least one of them. Pardon my tone.”
“Very well. They are your guests, I am sure they are used to your impetuousness.”
“Thank you Momma,” Veronica smiled, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Now, about this marriage to Uncle Matt-rat?”
“With you gone one yeah and the only person to console me bein’ your uncle, it only made sense that we marry. I am not in the business of runnin’ a plantation, and it is quite comfortin’ knowin’ that I have someone else to depend on for all that.”
“Momma, why didn’t you just send me a letter?” Veronica murmured, ushering her mother to the sofa, fearful she might faint again.
“You must have burned it, for I never got a reply.”
“Mrs. Vernon, pardon my interruptin’, but, what made you faint earlier? I am well-nigh faintin’ with curiosity,” Amy said, stepping forward as she pulled off her gloves and bonnet.
“I was lookin’ through her things. I often do that, you know, since she hasn’t been home for such a long time, and Matthew—her uncle—surprised me with news that she had suddenly decided to come home. He excited me to point of losin’ consciousness, I suppose. It is not somethin’ I recommend nor wish to boast about.”
“No, I would think not,” Amy said, nervously smiling and returning to Brad’s side.
“Ronnie, how is it you came to meet Miss Williams’ cousins? Were they in the city—no, that cannot be, for why would she rent a room at Mrs. Beaumont’s if she had relatives nearby?”
The room went still as everyone waited for Veronica’s reply.
“Momma, I know I have not been home. And I am sorry if I caused pain. I had not thought it would cause much, as you never paid much attention to me as a child. But this is a secret which reveals how I wish to make amends—my friends are Yankees.”
“Yankees?”
“You will not reveal us, Mrs. Vernon, I hope,” Madge rushed, glaring at Veronica.
“Of course not, my dear, some of my best friends were yanks. I remember there was this one couple—oh, would that I could remember their names. Well, he was a Yankee and she was a charming little woman…we had such great times up until they moved away. North, I assume.” Bella stood, watching Brad with great curiosity. “I suppose you-all are tired from your long journey. Do you two girls mind sharin’ a room? Well, then. You two will share the room across from Ronnie’s. Mr. Williams, you don’t mind havin’ the room beside theirs, do you? —No? Excellent. I suggest we all retire until dinner, and then we will have to decide what we will do with ourselves now that we have such excellent company. Ronnie, dear, I am so glad you’re come home,” Bella said, hugging her daughter and leaving.
As her companions left the room following her mother’s flight, Veronica couldn’t help but wonder at Bella’s interest in Brad. Her mother was not one to stare.
* * * * *
November, 1861
With great irritation, Veronica turned in bed. The knocking would not stop a sign that the last person she wanted to see was perhaps at the door. With even greater irritation, she slid from her bed, throwing her green dressing gown over her few petticoats and corset to answer the quiet, insistent knocking on the sitting room door. “Yes,” she managed, throwing open the door. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Veronica struggled to swallow a yawn. “Mr. Williams, what is it? What has happened?”
Brad stood at the door, having changed into a simple shirtwaist and brown slacks in the three hours they had been at Schönheitstal. His shoes were slightly muddied: he had explored the plantation lands, then. Had he toured the slave quarters? Veronica fought a wry smile.
“May I come in, Miss Vernon?”
Fighting inner demons, Veronica moved from the door to allow him passage. “Is somethin’ the matter, Mr. Williams?” Biting her tongue to prevent a shout when he did not immediately reply, Veronica only half shut the door, to retain her reputation. She sat on the sofa and expectantly waited.
He sat beside her and leaned forward, supporting his elbows with his knees. “Did you sleep well, Miss Vernon?”
“Please…what is it you really came for?”
“Miss Vernon, you have yet to tell me what I am to you, in the eyes of your mother and suspicious uncle.” Brad paused, a smile flitting across his face. “What was it you called him? Uncle Matt-rat?”
“I used to call him that when I was young because he resembled a rat to me. Such beady eyes. And his nose is much too sharp for true beauty, and his attitude is quite rat-like. It fits him well,” Veronica paused as Brad held his amusement down to a few choked chuckles. “Well, in the eyes of a child it’s perfectly reasonable…”
“Miss Vernon, my original question…”
“You are a friend. You were kind enough to accompany me south in these tumultuous times. You were merely doin’ your duty as a man, and felt you could not allow your sister and cousin access south without some feasible protection. Is that satisfactory?” Veronica snapped, standing to open the door. “If that is all, I should like to return to sleep.”
Brad reached the door slowly, biding his time as though he meant to say something else. He towered over Veronica with a slight smile, a shock of hair falling from his haphazardly combed waves. He watched Veronica stare at it, as though she wished she could brush it back. “I hope you will forgive me presently, Miss Vernon, for I shall be one of your four defenders against Mr. Stratford and Uncle Matt-rat.”
“Stop callin’ him that. It’s absurd to hear you speak so.”
Ignoring her comment, Brad quickly continued, “You see, I deducted that Uncle Matt-rat wishes you to marry Bentley just as much as the devil does. There is much wit stored within me, Miss Vernon, as you once believed.”
Without thinking, she laughed, “Whoever said I don’t still? Oh! —you rogue!” She shoved him from her room and slammed the door. Leaning against it, Veronica found she was unable to repress her smile while pushing the hair from her face.
Immediately, she clapped her hand over her mouth. She had granted the entire interview with her hair loose. What must Brad think of her now? This was at least the second time he had seen her hair naturally, and he must think her incredibly improper and racy. “My God,” Veronica grumbled, staring into her bureau mirror, “I will never be rid of him now.”
An hour later, Veronica emerged from her room completely refreshed as she gracefully walked down the carpeted hall wearing her cinnamon pink gown and black house slippers. Humming, she hopped down the stairs as she often did when younger, and twirled as she reached the foot.
Catching the Rose Page 22
