Annabelle paused with the comb partway down her hair. “What do you mean ‘make a lady out of me today’?”
Peggy rolled her eyes. “Don’t you go gettin’ your hackles up. That uncle of yours wants everyone looking proper before the officers come.”
“What officers?”
Peggy spread the dresses out on the bed. “Which one you want?”
Annabelle grimaced. “Whichever is coolest.”
Peggy dug around for a sheer muslin and an underskirt. “Them Federal officers is coming down today to listen to your cause.”
Annabelle perked up. “Uncle Michael say that?” The men had been tight-lipped about the entire thing since George had come back from Lorman on a borrowed horse. Andrew, having awakened to find himself bound, had been bellowing for nigh on two days. She’d be glad to see this thing settled and him off her land for good.
“Yes, says they’s coming today to look at all the papers your uncle got, and hear what you have to say.”
Annabelle stepped into the crinoline cage and tied the stays around her waist. “They’ll side with us, won’t they, Peggy?”
Peggy wrapped Annabelle’s corset around her waist and tugged on the ties. “Well, now, I can’t speak for what no men is thinkin’, but I’d say they have no cause to give the land to Andrew when your uncle has your daddy’s will and them pages from Washington.”
Annabelle smiled. “I’ll be glad to see him go. I just hope he doesn’t put up too much of a fuss.”
Peggy grunted. “He anything like your grandfather, he’ll throw a hissy for not gettin’ his way.”
Annabelle slid the underskirt over her head and smoothed it over the cage. “I still feel guilty we left him here alone, Peggy. I should have said better goodbyes. I knew he wasn’t in good health.”
Peggy patted her arm. “No, don’t go doing that. That man gave you little choice. I’m sorry he left this life still being as mean as he was, but that ain’t no reflection on you. You did better by him than he deserved.”
The words soothed some, though she still felt saddened at how she’d left things with him. He’d been a scoundrel, yes, but he had also been here when she might have been left to the unrestrained actions of too many soldiers.
After Peggy finished buttoning the clasps down the back of her bodice, Annabelle turned to her. “Thank you.”
“’course, child. It’s what I’s here for.”
“Peggy?”
Peggy tucked a loose end of her head wrap back into place and turned back to her. “Yes?”
“Now that the war is over and I am safely home, what will you do?”
Her eyebrows gathered. “What you mean?”
“Will you stay here?”
Peggy put her hands on her hips. “Where else is I going to go? You sendin’ me away?”
Annabelle twisted her hair in her fingers. “Of course not. I only wanted to ask you. To be sure that I don’t treat you like someone without a voice.”
Peggy smiled. “Miss Belle, I’d like nothing more than to stay right here, cook fine meals for you and that big fellow, and play with little ’uns when they come around.”
Annabelle swept Peggy into a hug. “I’d like nothing better myself.” She released Peggy and wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I’m a terrible cook.”
“Then it’s about time you learn.” Peggy swatted at her playfully. “Now let me see that hair. You’s making a mess out of it.”
Annabelle surrendered her head to the capable fingers that had braided and pinned her hair all her life, and when Peggy finished, they descended the steps together. Annabelle glanced at Peggy’s lavender dress, trimmed with strips of lace, and smiled. The dress was at odds with that ragged scarf Peggy still insisted on wrapping around her head, but Annabelle had given up trying to dissuade her from it.
Annabelle gave a nod to George, who stood watch over the door to the dining room where they kept Andrew, and continued out onto the front porch, where she and Peggy found Uncle Michael sitting in a chair he had mended with scraps of wood from the stable. He glanced up from the paper George had brought back from town.
“Ah, there you are, dear. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, Uncle, thank you.” She had, actually. Sleeping on pallets on the floor had become somewhat familiar to her these last months.
He snapped the paper closed. “As soon as we get this settled, I’ll have to head to Natchez and bring some furniture back here. At least the town home stayed intact, though that’s a downright miracle.”
Annabelle nodded her agreement. “Thank you. A few of the more necessary things would be very nice to tide us over. The rest Matthew and I can accumulate as we get Rosswood running again.”
Uncle Michael frowned and waved Peggy away.
She gave a small grunt. “You needs me, Miss Belle, I be trying to put my kitchen back in order.”
Annabelle offered her a warm smile as she took her time walking away, not in any hurry to jump to Uncle’s commands. If he noticed Peggy’s bit of defiance, he didn’t comment on it. When Annabelle turned back to look at him, he’d risen from his chair. He offered his arm.
“A walk, perhaps? I have things I wish to discuss with you.”
Trying to quell the worry gathering in her stomach, Annabelle slipped her fingers onto his shirtsleeve and he guided her off the porch.
They slowly walked through Momma’s rose garden, and Annabelle noted that they would need to repair the brick walk in several places. When Uncle opened the iron gate at the end of the garden and led her down to the shade of the towering oak just beyond the garden wall, she was glad she’d asked Peggy for the light dress. She reached up and patted her uncovered hair. “I hope you don’t mind, Uncle, but I didn’t fetch my bonnet.”
He looked at her as if truly noticing her for the first time. “Oh. No, no. It’s no matter. We’ll stay here in the shade so you won’t freckle. We won’t be long.” He glanced back toward the house.
Annabelle followed his gaze and wondered if he’d brought her here specifically to be out of earshot. “You wished to speak to me?”
He planted his feet and regarded her evenly, and she was suddenly washed in a memory of her father. He’d had much the same mannerism whenever he readied himself to deliver news unto her she did not wish to hear. “I have decided you shall go to the Natchez home.”
Her throat caught, and it took her two tries to force out her words. “What? Why?”
His features softened. “Now, Anna, I know you love this place.” He swept a hand back toward the house. “But look at it. It is in disrepair and nearly empty.”
Annabelle bit her lip. “Well, yes, but…”
Uncle shook his head. “It’s no place for a lady. We will go to Natchez to The Roses and stay there until something can be done with Rosswood.”
Annabelle fiddled with the folds of her skirt. “And then what will happen if we leave again? If not Andrew, then another will try to take it.”
“I’ve thought of that, and have already begun making inquiries into hiring an overseer. Give it some time, Anna, and I’ll have men enough out here to get it up and going again.”
He smiled down at her, and she knew he only meant her well. Father’s town home wasn’t as grand as Rosswood had once been, but it was cozy, comfortable, and if Uncle was correct, at least had mattresses on the beds. Resigned, she gave a nod. “Your words are logical, Uncle. I cannot deny that. Though I wish to return to Rosswood as soon as Matthew arrives and we can be wed. He and I can oversee everything then.”
Uncle stiffened. “Anna, I have made it clear that I do not approve of that man. He is a drunkard and an unfit gentleman. I’ve heard tales of him before the war and…” He cleared his throat. “Besides that, no respectable gentleman would have dragged you across the states in the middle of a war.” He puffed his cheeks out in frustration. “I simply cannot allow it.”
Annabelle pressed her fingers into her palms. If only Matthew would hurry! “Uncle, I know you m
ean well for me, but I have chosen Matthew, the man I love. Please do not judge him too harshly on one mistake. He only indulged too much because he was trying to force away the dreams.”
Uncle’s eye twitched. “What dreams?”
“Horrible memories of battle. They are most intense.”
Uncle Michael appeared thoughtful. “He’s told you of this?”
Feeling a sprout of hope, Annabelle nodded. “Yes. And he has apologized for making a fool of himself and sworn it shall never happen again.”
Uncle stroked his chin. “Perhaps it is something I will consider.”
She offered him a bright smile and he frowned. “No promises. We will revisit the issue at a later time.”
Sensing that was all Uncle would give at the moment, her smile softened into one of tentative hope, and she slipped her arm back into his. “Thank you. I am most grateful for your consideration of my feelings on the matter.”
He merely grunted and began guiding her back to the house.
“Other presidents have died, though none have been assassinated before President Lincoln—yet none were ever so mourned.”
Fredrick Douglass
When I get my hands on you,” Andrew bellowed, his words bouncing down the hall and skipping over Annabelle as she followed Peggy in with a tray. “I’m going to skin you from your—”
Peggy screeched, nearly dropping her basket of biscuits in her attempt to conceal Andrew’s words from Annabelle’s ears. She heard them anyway and blushed. Peggy’s cry, however, must have alerted the men to their presence, because one of them growled out a series of words she couldn’t decipher and Andrew fell silent.
“Lawd, I hope them men hurry up and come down here and put an end to this mess! What’s taking them so long?”
Annabelle had to agree. It had been days since George had gone to Lorman and asked for aid. They’d been promised the day before yesterday, but had not appeared. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think they were delaying on purpose.
She straightened her spine and sauntered into the dining room with more cheer in her step than she had in her heart. “Look what I’ve brought, boys. Peggy’s fried us up some sweet potatoes. Oh, my, but she does make a good hash.”
George smiled. “I do fancy fried potatoes.”
“Yes, suh, and I got biscuits, too,” Peggy said, sweeping into the room without a speck of flower on her fine dress. How she’d managed it when Annabelle had still needed to clean her own skirt even though she’d worn an apron, Annabelle couldn’t fathom. It seemed she still had much to learn in the kitchen, and not all of it had to do with making the most of scant ingredients.
Uncle Michael perked up from where he’d been resting against the wall near the hearth. “Splendid. Peggy, you are gifted in the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ross.” Peggy dipped her chin, looking pleased with the attention.
George finished tying a knot around Andrew’s ankles and turned to face them. “How about we take it out to the balcony?”
“What about me?” Andrew grumbled.
Uncle looked at him and smirked. “As soon as you learn to behave like a gentleman, you might be allowed to dine with the civil folks. Until then,”—he plucked two of Peggy’s biscuits from the pile in the basket—“you’ll just have to stay here and think about how dimwitted it was to try to attack us when we gave you a measure of freedom.” He dropped the biscuits unceremoniously into Andrew’s lap. “Seems like you’ve chosen the ropes for the duration of your stay.”
Annabelle frowned down at Andrew. He had the decency to glance away from her, mumbling something that might have been an apology. Cur though he might be, Annabelle still grew uncomfortable with keeping him restrained for so long. What would they do if the Federals tarried much longer?
“Come on, child. Let’s be gettin’ outside,” Peggy said when the others had gone and she still lingered, staring at the man who would have tried to make himself her husband.
Annabelle lifted her chin and followed Peggy up the stairs and onto the upper hall, where the doors at both ends had been opened to allow the breeze to pass through. Out on the balcony, George had fashioned a bench for her and Peggy out of two stumps and a length of board and had carried it up here.
The men leaned against the rail as Peggy passed out plates heaped with fried potatoes and biscuits and Annabelle offered mismatched mugs of warm water. Then the women took their seat and the four began to eat in companionable silence.
Annabelle looked out over the front lands of Rosswood and wondered why she’d never taken a meal up here before. It was rather pleasant. She’d have to see about getting a small table and set of chairs added up here. Perhaps it would be a good place for Matthew and her to dine once he returned.
Uncle Michael straightened. “What’s that?”
Annabelle looked to where he pointed, down the lane and almost to the road. She squinted, trying to see between the leaves of the oaks in the way. “I don’t see anything.”
George leaned over the rail. “Someone’s coming.”
Uncle nodded. “We best head down, then.”
Annabelle placed her barely touched plate down on the bench next to Peggy’s as they moved to take the plates from the men. George shoveled two more mouthfuls in before handing his plate over to Peggy with a wink.
When they had gone down the stairs, Peggy looked at Annabelle and cocked her head. “What was that about?”
Annabelle shrugged. “I guess he’s just glad the Feds have finally arrived so we can get this mess resolved.”
“Ha. Still don’t explain him winkin’ at me like we’s some kind of friends.”
“You’re not?”
Peggy made a face. “I reckon he don’t plan on being nothing with no colored folks other than they master.”
“Peggy!”
“What? You know it’s true.”
Annabelle bit her tongue, Lilly’s face springing to mind. “I know you told me not to, but I have to talk to him about Lilly.”
Peggy regarded her for a moment. “Well, I’ve been thinkin’ on that, and I reckon it can’t hurt. Man’s been in a bad way since we left Washington. It’s slung all over him like mud on the mule behind the wagon.” She clicked her tongue. “Fool can’t be both love sick and prejudice over the same girl at the same time.”
Annabelle smiled. “No, I don’t suppose he can.” She turned her attention back to the group of men who had made it nearly to the garden wall, where Uncle Michael and George waited. Something about the one in the front looked familiar….
Annabelle gasped.
“What?” Peggy chirped, her gaze swinging below.
“I think I know that man!” Annabelle lifted her skirts and hurried down the stairs as quickly as dignity would allow, leaving Peggy sputtering behind her.
“They have killed him, the Forgiver. The Avenger takes his place.”
Herman Melville
Annabelle paused at the front door with her hand resting on the frame. Her stomach felt as though it contained too many fireflies trapped in a jar. It was him. Oh, heavens! Would he be angry at her when he found out she’d lied to him? What would that mean for Rosswood?
Peggy sidled up to her side. “You all right? You look paler than milk.”
“I know him.”
Peggy slipped past Annabelle and took a step onto the porch. “Who?”
“That man. He’s the Union Private I told you about.”
“Which ’un?”
At the drive, George and Uncle Michael spoke to four men in blue uniforms, one of whom was no other than Private Grierson. As though feeling her gaze upon him, his eyes turned up toward the house and landed on her. Surprise lit his face.
Annabelle sucked in a breath. “That one.”
“That’s that boy that helped you back to town and sent the doctor?”
Private Grierson stepped around Uncle Michael, who was still speaking to him, and started through the garden gate.
“Yes. T
hat’s the one,” Annabelle said low, then pulled a smile onto her lips and came to stand at the end of the porch.
Private Grierson came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and removed his cap. “Why, Miss Smith! It seems I’ve found you at last!”
Annabelle glanced over his head at Uncle Michael, whose red face had creased with an array of lines. She dropped her gaze back to the young Federal. “Um, yes, about that, Private Grierson….”
He puffed out his chest a bit. “It’s lieutenant now.”
“Oh.” She offered a faltering smile. “I’ve something to tell you, Lieutenant.”
“Remember, I asked you to call me Joshua.”
Annabelle puffed out her cheeks. “Yes, yes…” she waved her hand. “Joshua, I need to tell you—”
“What is the meaning of this?” Uncle stalked up to them, his eyes flashing between Grierson and Annabelle. “Do you know these Yanks?”
Grierson stiffened and Annabelle had to suppress a groan. “Oh, yes, Uncle,” Annabelle said in her best ladies’ drawl. “I was once thrown from my horse on the way to town, and this gentleman was kind enough to take me into Lorman and fetch a doctor.”
Uncle eyed Grierson, but said nothing.
“Why, if it weren’t for his aid, who knows what troubles I might have found out there alone.” The shiver that ran over her didn’t have to be fabricated.
Uncle grunted. “Why were you out without escort in the first place?”
She shifted in her stance.
“You know right well what kind o’ man was runnin’ this here house,” Peggy said quietly.
That seemed to startle Uncle, and he tugged on his lapels. “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Very well.” He looked back at Grierson, who was still unashamedly staring at Annabelle. “What’s this about a Miss Smith?”
Annabelle felt her cheeks heat as humor danced in Grierson’s eyes. “What? Oh. I’m sorry. Must have gotten the name confused. My apologies, Miss….”
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 83
