Annabelle shot a glance at Matthew again, and this time he rewarded her with a smile that made her chest constrict. Oh, but she loved that man. Why must he be so difficult?
“Miss Ross,” Mr. Ewing said, coming to stand in front of her and blocking her view of the confounding man who had stolen her heart. “Can you please tell me about your time spent in the Surratt house, and any persons whom you saw there?”
Heat began to rise up her neck. Had she not just been through this with the other? She glanced at the Union officers, and one of them, a man with stern features but kind eyes gave her a nod. She turned back to the solicitor.
“I resided at the house of Mrs. Surratt last March when my betrothed and I were on our way to my family’s home in New York. During that time, I saw John Booth and the matron’s son, John Surratt, along with Mr. O’Malley and his companion, Mr. Harry Thompson. I did not see any of these other men there,” she said, gesturing to the other prisoners.
The man nodded, and then without further questioning, allowed her to step down. She kept her eyes on the floor until she made it back to her seat, avoiding the gaze of two men she had to squeeze past.
The man who had first given the introductions at the beginning of the day positioned himself at the front of the room and spoke in a clear tone that carried over the gathering. “The commission will now take a one hour respite. Morning witnesses are free to go.”
Annabelle’s breath left with a rush. Free to go!
Oh, thank you, Lord.
She rose and turned to find Matthew, who thankfully headed in her direction. He stepped through the people hurrying to find their luncheon and offered her his arm. She slipped her fingers across the course material of his Union jacket and settled her hand into the crook of his arm, clinging to him as though he may slip away at any moment.
He led her through the crowd and out to the warmth of the day, where the clear spring air offered a welcomed breath of freshness. “Wait here,” Matthew said, slipping from her grasp, “and I will see if I can find you something to eat.”
Annabelle dug her fingers into his arm. “Matthew!”
He turned back to her, pain jarring in his eyes. “Yes?”
“We need to talk about what happened. You have been avoiding me for nigh on a week!”
Matthew shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat, looking everywhere but directly at her. “I have been kept busy with the detectives.”
Annabelle squeezed his arm. “Captain Daniels. I grow weary of this.”
He stiffened, as though her using his officer’s title had slapped him across the face. He leveled an anguished gaze on her. “You are right. My shame has sent me slinking away like a scalded dog and has only caused further dishonor.” His eyes flashed. “Another failure I must ask undeserved forgiveness for.” His Adam’s apple dove down to his collar, and he turned his face.
She reached up and caressed the slight stubble peppering his jaw, unconcerned they were standing in public. “Matthew, look at me.”
He reached up and grasped her hand, lowering it down to her side and then releasing it. Fear galloped through her. His conflicted gaze darted between her eyes, as though he sought something there that he desperately needed. “I must…sort through some things, Annabelle.” His jaw clenched, and he seemed to have to force out his next words. “I think it would be best if you return with your uncle to Rosswood.”
Her heart plummeted. “What…” She blinked back burning tears. “What are you saying?”
Matthew glanced back toward the building. “Mr. Fitch has just promised me that George will not need to testify, and that once you gave your account today you would be free to go. There is no reason for you to stay on. Not when we need to be certain Rosswood is safe.”
Relief briefly swept across her but found no hold. “What about you?”
He shifted his stance. “I must remain.”
“For how long?”
He reached up as though to trap a stray lock of her hair that danced across her cheek but then lowered his hand and glanced away. “I do not know.”
“Matthew, I….” Her voice hitched.
He grasped her hands, his eyes boring into hers. “Annabelle, I do love you. Do not doubt it. But I am not…worthy. I must think through some things.”
She stared at him, unable to force any words past the constriction in her throat.
He dropped her hands and rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “Will you wait for me?”
She tried to hide the fear from her features and forced a smile. “Of course I will. But you must speak to my uncle. He is most upset and is currently not open to our betrothal.”
The muscles in Matthew’s jaw tightened. “He cannot be blamed. I acted the fool.”
“Why did you?” she asked softly. She hadn’t wanted to ask, but needed to know.
Matthew glanced away. “I misjudged the amount of drink I could handle.”
Confusion puckered her brow. She had spent months with this man, and had never known him to take ale. What had happened to cause him to find the bottom of too many cups? “If I am to be your wife, you must be able to tell me things, Matthew.”
“I…needed something to numb the dreams, Annabelle.” He tugged on his collar. “Just until they go away again.”
The pleading in his tone pricked at her. She lifted herself onto her toes, trying to catch the gaze he kept downturned. “What dreams, Matthew?”
He lifted his chin and stared at something over her head. “I see things again in my dreams that seeing once was more than enough to endure. Now those mangled forms with their anguished screams haunt my resting hours and torture me with my failures. Twisted, bloody faces, lost limbs and the roar of the cannons….” He shook himself and looked down at her.
Annabelle placed her hand to her heart, but Matthew seemed to mistake her concern for contempt.
Resignation flashed in his eyes. “You deserve a man who is not broken.”
“Oh, Matthew. It is not your fault.” She stepped closer to him, breathing in the scent that was earth and cedar and uniquely him. “I’ve learned that to find peace, we must give our worries to God. Let him heal us.”
Matthew snorted, his eyes lighting. “I can assure you, the Almighty does not wish to concern Himself with a man whose only prayers were for the enemy to fall at his feet.”
The bitterness in his words clawed at her heart. “Matthew, you must turn to Him for peace or you will never find it.”
He took a step back. “You should go now, Annabelle. I will be to Rosswood as soon as this is finished. Do not dally and risk them bringing you back. I don’t trust these Yanks to keep their word.”
Pain flickered in his eyes, then only cold resolve remained in their depths. Annabelle shivered and opened her mouth to reply, but before she had the chance, he spun away and left her staring at his back with confused tears gathering in her eyes.
“The Yanks are going to mock justice by pretending to try those whom they captured. They cannot revenge themselves on Booth—he is out of their power.”
John Surratt
George studied his reflection in the mirror to see if his nervousness manifested on his features. He had taken Lilly to evening meal each day since she had returned to Washington, and things had been going quite well. He’d been pleased to spend time with her and little Frankie, and had felt himself come alive these past days. In their company he could nearly forget the bloody war and the stench of prison. Where once he feared he may be slipping into madness, hope now swelled like a rising tide.
To think, soon he would start life anew! Gone were the days of sullen tents and restless soldiers. He could put it all behind him and focus on rebuilding his life at the plantation, Lilly at his side as they returned Westerly to all she had been before the war. Once matters were settled here, he would be spending each day with Lilly and Frankie. They would take long rides over the lands of Westerly before taking their leisure by the hearth in the study while the boy p
layed on the rugs. And then, after the wedding, he would be blessed to spend each night in Lilly’s arms.
The thought shot spikes of desire through him he had to fight to dampen. He’d been years without the affections of a woman, and the thought of rediscovering those affections with Lilly made his blood feel as though it had been put to the fire. He combed back his freshly cut locks and looked at the gentleman he’d known before the war staring back at him from the looking glass. His eyes brimmed with hope that the former years could be washed away, and that he could return to the life he’d known before all of these horrors had commenced.
George reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim gold band, studying it and hoping it would fit her delicate finger. He’d wanted to give her a ring with an emerald or diamond, but the Confederate notes he had were worthless, and he’d need the remaining silver to get the lands of Westerly working again. Surely, Lilly would not mind. George smiled. No, a working class woman would not turn her nose up to simplicity as the spoiled belles would do. Yes, she was the perfect choice for the new lady of Westerly. Mother would be so thrilled to have both her sons wed that she would not begrudge him marrying below their station.
George tucked the ring back into his pocket and straightened his cravat. All that remained was the nagging feeling of worry he could not shake. Would Lilly accept him? He clenched his teeth and tried to brush the thought aside. Of course she would. Though she’d seemed hesitant at first, the lady had begun to soften toward him these past few days and her demure glances had given him hope.
Besides, doubt was foolish. Had not he heard a word from the Almighty? Even though his proposal would come quickly, she would not reject him. Their engagement could last as long as she needed it to, but he could not leave for Rosswood without the security of knowing he would not lose her to another suitor until he returned. Though she must surely know of his intentions, the ring would give an outward sign to other men that the lady was spoken for.
Feeling more confident in his decision, George checked the clock on the mantel and turned to leave the room he and his brother shared. With Annabelle’s required testimony past, they would be ready to leave out in the morning. Though George thought that Mr. Ross would be capable of handling their family concerns over the land, Matthew had been quite insistent that George go south with them. The concern in his brother’s voice had been clear, and George could not deny him. Besides, he owed Annabelle a debt and would provide her with any assistance he could.
He closed the door to his room and strode down the plush carpets of the hall, excitement sprouting as he neared the other end of the hotel. He came to the door of the room Mrs. Smith and Lilly shared and tapped on the door.
The elder woman swung open the door and smiled up at him. “Good eve, Mr. Daniels.”
George bent slightly at the waist. “Good eve, ma’am.”
The widow stepped out of the door with a rustle of black silk, pulling it closed behind her. George took a step back, his curious gaze swinging to the closed room.
“Oh, don’t fret now. She’ll be ready in a few moments,” Mrs. Smith said, waving away George’s concern.
George looked back to the mischievous glint in the eyes of the woman before him and smiled. “I’m not fretting, ma’am. That is a woman’s emotion.”
“Ha!” She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Call it what you will, sir. Regardless, I’d like to speak with you about your intentions.”
George grew serious. “My intentions have not changed since you gave me permission to ask Miss Rose to return to Washington.”
The woman watched him with interest, and her next words came out carefully. “You keep calling her that. You know she has no family name. She is not a lady of means.”
“Yes, I know. But I do not know what else to call her.”
Mrs. Smith fingered the broach at the base of her throat. “It is a lovely name, don’t you think? As fresh as flowers…for a new beginning.”
George began to nod absentmindedly, but then something in her tone gave him pause. A memory tugged at the back of his mind, but would not take root. He opened his mouth to reply, but she held up a hand.
“I’ll let you discuss these things with her. All I can say is that I pray you are the gentleman I hope you are and will not be blinded like the rest of your kind.”
His kind? What in heaven’s name did she mean by that? He didn’t get a chance to ask, however, as the door swung open and his lady appeared, a vision in emerald silk and delicate bits of lace. Looking at her, he could almost forget there had been a war, and he could erase the last years of his life. He felt like an anxious youth courting again—a lovesick fool who still possessed a head full of plans and a heart full of wild dreams.
Lilly lowered her eyes, letting fringes of dark lashes feather over her smooth complexion. She never played the coquette, but when she looked up at him from under those lashes, his pulse quickened.
Mrs. Smith mumbled something and patted Lilly’s arm before slipping back into the hotel room and closing the door. Lilly looked at George’s boots, as though she could feel his nervousness and shared in it. He shifted his weight. “How fares Frankie after our ride this morning?”
She looked up at him, and the smile he’d hoped for curved her pillow lips. He offered his arm, and she placed her small hand on his forearm. “He was so worn out from all the excitement, I didn’t have to rock him half a minute before he was fast asleep!”
The laughter in her voice warmed George, and he returned her smile. “I thank you for trusting me with him.”
Her hand tightened on his arm. “Frankie is quite taken with you.” She laughed again. “What was I to do?”
George patted her fingers. “I am taken with him as well. I truly enjoy his company.”
Lilly grew thoughtful as they made their way down the stairs, and did not say another word as they crossed through the hotel lobby and into the dining room on the main floor. George allowed her time for her thoughts, knowing that trusting him with her son and the fact that the boy was growing fond of him meant a great deal for the development of his relationship with her. The lady might not yet have affections for him, but George believed that in time he could coax them from her.
After he had pulled her chair and sat in his own, George offered her a contented smile and continued the conversation. “I hope that someday, perhaps I can teach Frankie how to ride on his own.”
A flicker of worry passed over Lilly’s features, and George shifted in his seat. Had he said something wrong?
Lilly opened her mouth, closed it, and then pressed her lips into a thin line.
George frowned. “What distresses you, Miss Rose?”
Lilly slowly shook her head. “I keep telling you not to call me that.”
Hope bolstered his confidence. “May I call you Lilly, then?”
She looked at him as though he were daft. “We’ve had this same talk before. Don’t you remember? I already told you that everyone calls me just plain Lilly.” She cocked her head. “Or sometimes Lilly Rose. But Rose ain’t my family name. Just part of my first, and only, name.”
George chuckled. “Yes, I do remember. However, I was taught to call a lady by her surname until she granted the familiarity of the use of her given name. I want to court you properly, you see. Therefore, when I do call you by your given name, I want it to be because you have given me permission to speak your name with a more… intimate familiarity.”
Realization sprang up in her eyes, and her mouth made a fetching little O shape. He smothered his amusement, lest she think he made light of her. Instead, he tried to let earnestness show on his face and said, “I hope you understand that I have affections for you, and that my intentions toward you are directed at a permanent relationship.”
Her eyes widened farther at his blunt admission, but the words had to be said. He watched her, waiting for her reaction. Surprise melted into a flicker of delight, and his heart warmed. But then the flicker suddenly died, replaced
with a smooth formality that chilled him.
Lilly lifted her chin, resignation tightening the lines of her mouth. “I thought long and hard about allowing you your misconceptions, and simply letting myself enjoy what you are offering me.”
George frowned. What was she talking about, misconceptions?
The serving man appeared, keeping George from asking her what she meant. The server told them about the evening’s selection of meats and other various dishes. The words fell like muted rain on George’s ears. He tugged on his collar and then ordered them the chicken, knowing Lilly preferred foul to beef, and sent the man scurrying away with an impatient look.
As soon as the man retreated, the lady leaned over the table, allowing the candlelight to dance across her bare shoulders and the dip in the neckline of her bodice that exposed the hollow of her throat. George had to pull his gaze back up to the deep brown eyes that studied him.
“I cannot figure you out, Mr. Daniels. I don’t know if you understand the truth of the situation and choose to pretend it doesn’t exist, or if you are oblivious to something that you should be able to see without me having to say it.”
George sat back in his chair, perplexed at the intensity in the gaze of the woman before him. “I am well aware you are a woman of working stature while I am a man of family means. However, you seem far more interested in the divide than I am. The war has a way of bringing poverty to us all.” She simply stared at him, so George forged on. “To be rather blunt, I am pleased you are a woman I feel I can rely on to help me bring my plantation back to what it once was.”
She stiffened and leaned back away from the table, making George wonder what he’d done to upset her this time. Women were such fickle creatures. How could a man understand their moods, when their emotions so often flitted from one thing to another?
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 77
