The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Mrs. Smith offered a genuine smile. “That would please me greatly.”

  They turned away with Annabelle, Mrs. Smith clicking her tongue over the state of the house.

  Matthew leaned close to George’s ear. “I will see the others and the little one on an introduction around Rosswood. Perhaps you and Lilly might find a moment alone on the porch?”

  He and Matthew had spoken at length about a great many things these past days, Lilly chiefly among them. Bolstering more courage than he’d needed for battle, he gave Matthew a knowing look and stepped toward the lady, who stood awkwardly by the front door, seeming to be in deep thought about what to do with a stack of crates Mrs. Smith had made them leave in the hall.

  “Lilly?”

  She looked up at him, a spark of pain in her eyes. She shook her head and tried to step around him, but George grabbed her arm.

  She looked down at his hand. “Please release me, Mr. Daniels. I did not wish to come here, and it would be easier to endure if you would not presume to touch me.”

  George slid his fingers off the smooth fabric of her dress and hung his head. She would want nothing to do with him. “Please, I must beg your forgiveness. Shock rendered me a fool. I know you may always look at me with distain, but I need you to know the depth of my regrets and to tell you that the man before you is not the same one who was too much of a coward to stop you from leaving that night.”

  She drew a shuddering breath and he nodded toward the door. “Could you give me only a few moments? And then if you wish it, I shall never impose on you again.”

  The cool, impassive expression that had ruled her features when they had first met slid onto her face once more, but her eyes spoke of turmoil. Finally, after a tiny dip of her chin he might not have noticed had he not been watching her closely, he took her elbow and guided her through the door and onto the front porch.

  “Would you like to sit?” George asked, gesturing toward the crude furniture.

  Her delicate eyebrows dipped. “Not the furnishings I would expect at a plantation.”

  George rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not much by way of a carpenter. I’m afraid these makeshift seats are the best I could manage.”

  She looked at him and tilted her head. “You made these?”

  “Yes, though I am not sure if I should claim credit or blame for them.”

  Lilly pressed her lips into a line and stared at him a moment. “A plantation master, roughing up his hands on pitiful log seating.”

  Her words held bite he knew he deserved. He looked at his hands. “These hands have not been the ones of a privileged plantation son for some time. They have seen war and the long days of labor in prison, constructing coffins to lay my friends inside.”

  When he looked up again, her face had softened. She seemed as though she might reach a hand to him, but thought better of it. “I am sorry for the hardships you faced.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back. “They are nothing compared to the life you must have endured. I can understand fully why you would distrust men such as me.”

  She began to shake her head but then stopped. “Yes, indeed.”

  George swallowed. “Lilly, I want so much to tell you that things have changed, that this world is different now, but it hasn’t changed in so many ways that matter.”

  “This I know.” Her words were soft, laced with regret and pain that George desperately wanted to erase.

  He stepped closer, causing her to have to tilt her chin to look up at him. Her lashes fluttered, but she did not look away. “I’m glad of your heritage, Lilly.”

  Her mouth fell open. “But…but…you…”

  He took her shoulders in his hands. “I was wrong. I was brought up in a world where we were taught that some people were lesser than others simply because of the tone of their skin.” A smile tugged upon his lips. “The Almighty had a way of showing me just how very wrong I was about that.”

  Her lips parted and he looked down on them, longing to know what their softness would feel like beneath his. He forced his eyes back up to hers. “I wanted to come to you, but gave my word to my brother I would stay with Annabelle until he arrived at Rosswood. Once he did, he promised me that Mrs. Smith would bring you down with her.”

  She turned her face away, but not before he caught the shine of tears in her eyes. George reached up and cupped her chin, gently turning her to face him once more.

  “Had you not come, I would have come to you. Had you refused to see me, I would have waited outside your door until you did. You are beautiful, Lilly. And not only because of the tones of your skin, a golden glow I have admired since first I laid eyes upon you. But you are beautiful because you are strong and kind. I love you, Lilly, both inside and out.”

  She lifted her lashes and turned her deep brown eyes on him, the breath coming from her quick upon his hand.

  “I would give most anything to have reacted differently. I lie awake every night wishing I had gone after you. Though I would have understood if you refused to see me again, I knew I must beg you for forgiveness for my foolishness or I would live forever in regret.”

  “I…” her voice wavered. “I forgive you.”

  Peace swelled through him. “Thank you, my love.”

  Her breath caught, and he offered a sad smile. “My battered heart has never loved any but you, Lilly. Nor shall it ever.”

  “But…”

  He placed a finger on her lips. “I know you cannot return my affections, not after what I did to you. I ask only that you allow me to let you know how I feel.”

  She reached up and brushed away his hand. “Might I speak now, George?”

  The use of his name upon her lips constricted his chest so that all he could do was nod.

  She drew a long breath and let it out slowly. “I have tried relentlessly to forget you. To hate you, even. But ever as I prayed my love for you would go away, it seemed those prayers only made the feelings grow. And Frankie…” She gave a small shrug. “Oh, but that boy. He once even asked me if you were his Papa.”

  George stared at her, unable to believe her words were not a product of his own longing. “I would love nothing more to be his Papa, Lilly. To be a husband to you, and a father to him.”

  Tears welled and slid down her cheeks. “Even knowing that we are both of mixed descent?”

  “Indeed. I am thankful for the people who brought you into this world, and for the man who gave you Frankie. Without them, neither of you would be who you are.”

  The tears surged again, and George wrapped his arms around her. Lilly allowed him to pull her close and stroke her back as her shoulders shook. Regretting all the pain he had caused, he buried his face into her soft scent and spoke against the tickle of her hair. “Ah, love, I do not wish to see you cry.”

  She sniffled against him and then pulled back. “I, too, must ask your forgiveness.”

  He stroked her cheek, unable to believe she had done anything that required forgiveness. “Whatever for?”

  She looked away. “I should have told you the truth from the start. I allowed myself to watch your affections grow, though I had not been honest with you.”

  He gazed down at her. “It is nothing to forgive. I know why you did it.”

  She pressed her cheek into his hand. “I did not tell you, because I thought if you didn’t know, if no one ever knew, then I might have a chance with you.”

  His chest constricted. “It matters not who knows.”

  She shook her head. “We both know that isn’t true.”

  George let emotions he had tried to bury burn within his eyes. “No, it is true. I never thought I’d be able to ask again, but, Lilly, if you would have me, if you would give me a lifetime to show you that I can be a good man for you and Frankie, I would like to ask you to be my wife, no matter what any might have to say against it.”

  She sucked in a breath, more tears welling in her eyes. “It is not possible.”

  He had expected it, thoug
h still the words pierced. He stiffened, and began to step away.

  “I would, George. For I love you still, but we will never be accepted.”

  George pulled farther away and clenched his hands. “I do not care what others think of us, and heaven help any man who dares to try to stand between me and my family.”

  “But…but….”

  George knew she sorted through the same reasons against their union that had threatened to bury him. He took her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “I will fight for us, Lilly. Let them say what they will.”

  She parted her lips, and he lowered his forehead to hers. “I vow to protect you, honor you, and love you until the last breath leaves my body. I will love your son as my son, and I will make him the heir to Westerly. Forget every reason that is against us and look only to the love that matters. Be my wife, Lilly, and make my life whole.”

  She closed her eyes, her feather-like lashes splaying against her cheeks, and then in one startling, breathtaking moment, she lifted her chin and pressed her lips to his.

  “In the end, it is not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”

  Abraham Lincoln

  Rosswood Plantation

  August 9, 1865

  Annabelle wrapped her arms around Molly’s neck. “Oh, how I have missed you!”

  Her friend patted her shoulder and pulled back. “I have missed you as well.” She frowned. “Though I had always thought I would have been able to make you the most stunning gown in the South for your wedding day.”

  Annabelle looked down at the golden dress with navy trim and a deep blue paisley print that covered every inch the fabric from the hem to the pagoda sleeves. “Yes, but this one does match Matthew’s navy blue cravat.”

  “Ha! But it is not a wedding gown.”

  “I much agree, young lady, but as it would seem my granddaughter would simply not wait to have one made, it shall have to do.” Grandmother tugged at the black silk around her neck. “How you will survive this heat in it, I shall never know.”

  “Worst of the heat done passed, Mrs. Smith,” Peggy said. “Evening be comin’ soon.”

  Annabelle twisted the ring on her finger. An evening wedding, a feast with the abundance of supplies Grandmother had brought to Rosswood with those she loved, and then she and Matthew would retire back to this room, the room her father had shared with her mother.

  Grandmother laughed and guided Annabelle to sit at the dressing chair. “Breathe, girl. You look as white as winter snow.”

  Annabelle looked at her reflection in the polished mirror and once again marveled at the furnishings Grandmother had bought and delivered to Rosswood. The house was still sparse, but the dining room set had been replaced and stocked with wares. The master’s chamber boasted a blue rug, a finely crafted armoire and bureau, a dressing table and screen, and a massive canopy bed to replace the one that had been stolen. Annabelle eyed the thick covering across it and wondered if she would need a stool to climb up onto it to test the softness.

  She’d thus far stayed in her own chamber, not being allowed inside this one until Grandmother had declared it presentable—which had been just yesterday. She’d said that the new couple would need both a personal sanctuary and a place to host, and so her wedding gift to them would be the bedroom and dining furnishings.

  Matthew, knowing her as he did, had given her seeds. A wagon stacked with sacks of them by which to begin restoring her fields.

  The door opened and Lilly came in, her nervous fingers playing with the ruffles on her bright yellow gown. Annabelle jumped to her feet, ignoring Peggy’s yelp. Apparently, she had been about to start fussing with Annabelle’s hair just as Lilly entered.

  “Lilly! You look stunning.” Annabelle took the woman’s hands and guided her deeper into the room. “I think Peggy was about to do my hair, but then she will work on yours.”

  Lilly shifted. “Are you sure about this?”

  Annabelle offered a reassuring smile. “Lilly, how many times must I answer that question before you will stop asking it?”

  Lilly glanced at Grandmother. “But, this is your wedding day.”

  Annabelle squeezed her hand. “And nothing would please Matthew and me more than to have you and George speak vows next to us.”

  Worry tightened Lilly’s mouth, and Annabelle wondered if it had something to do with the letter that arrived by courier from Westerly. Matthew and George’s mother had not approved of George’s choice to marry Lilly—since he had been honest about her heritage—or Matthew’s support of it, and had, thus, declared she would not attend the wedding. She’d also said that if George defied her and returned to Westerly with Lilly, she would go live with her sister in Tupelo. Annabelle did not know what reply George sent back with Grandmother’s messenger, but she knew it had not deterred his course.

  “Besides,” Grandmother quipped, “we are all already here. And I doubt we’ll be able to pry Annabelle and Matthew from Rosswood anytime soon. Best go on and get married while everyone’s gathered and the preacher’s on hand.”

  Lilly gaped at her, then snapped her mouth closed. She offered no further argument, and waited quietly for her turn under Peggy’s care.

  In another hour, they were ready—Annabelle having honored Matthew’s request to only pin up half of her hair, leaving the remaining length to fall down her back in a cascade of curls. With levity in their gait, the group of excited women emerged from the house. Out front, the slightly cooler breeze of evening swept across the garden, carrying with it the scent of roses.

  Uncle Michael took Annabelle’s arm, and together they walked down the front steps. Behind them, Grandmother followed with Lilly, trailed by Molly, then Peggy with Frankie on her hip.

  Near the iron gate, the preacher stood with Matthew on his right and George on his left. Annabelle took in the sight of the man that would soon be her husband. Dressed in a fine broadcloth suit—a gift from Grandmother that fit him splendidly—with a navy blue cravat, he stood with his feet set apart and his hands behind his back like a man who had forgotten he was no longer a soldier.

  His face free from stubble, his broad mouth turned up at the sight of her, sending her heart to fluttering. His long hair had been pulled back and secured, with one lock that escaped to hang along his strong cheekbones.

  Annabelle flashed him a brilliant smile and relished the look of appreciation in his eyes.

  The witnesses took their seats on mismatched chairs and benches by Momma’s roses. As they came to a stop, Annabelle gave Uncle’s arm a squeeze. “I thank you, dearest Uncle Michael, for all you have done for me.”

  He patted her hand, and when he spoke it was with thick emotion that surprised her. “I am glad you will be happy. Do not forget about your old bachelor uncle, eh?”

  “We would never. I do hope you will stay with us often.”

  He patted her fingers again and then took his seat. Annabelle stepped to Matthew’s side and watched Grandmother embrace Lilly, whispering something in her ear. Lilly’s lips turned up and she gave a nod. She turned to George and took his hand, coming to stand by his side.

  Matthew reached out and took both of Annabelle’s hands, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles. Her heart swelled as she stared into eyes that spoke promises that made her knees quiver.

  Mr. Jenkins smiled at them and addressed the gathering. “We come here today to bear witness to the joining souls before our Holy God. Whereas a man shall leave his father and mother and be cleaved to his wife.” He shifted his feet to face Annabelle and Matthew.

  “Mr. Matthew Daniels, do you take Miss Annabelle Ross to be your own, to be ever satisfied with the wife of your youth, the only woman to whom you will give yourself for as long as she shall live? Do you promise to protect her, provide for her, and love her as Christ loved the church, giving Himself up for her?”

  Matthew squeezed her hands. “Yes, I do.”

  Mr. Jenkins turned to Annabelle, “And Mi
ss Ross, do you pledge to take this man as your husband—to respect him, follow him as he leads you in love, and to be his and his alone for all the days of his life? Do you promise to keep his home and tend his children, should God bless you with them?”

  Annabelle squeezed Matthew’s hands and spoke from the love overflowing from her heart. “Yes, this I vow.”

  Mr. Jenkins smiled at them and then turned to George and Lilly, repeating the same words and garnering the same promises from them. George’s voice was thick with emotion, and Lilly paid no heed to the tears that flowed down her cheeks and into her radiant smile.

  Annabelle pressed close into Matthew’s side, saying a prayer of thanks for the love that filled Rosswood on this day.

  When George and Lilly completed their vows, Mr. Jenkins lifted his hands. “Then with the covenant of the vows you have spoken and by the authority granted to me by the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” he said, gesturing to Annabelle and Matthew, “I declare you Mr. and Mrs. Daniels.” He swung his gaze to George and Lilly. “And Mr. and Mrs. Daniels. Gentlemen, you may kiss your brides!”

  Before the final word had even escaped the preacher’s lips, Matthew had wrapped his arms around Annabelle’s waist. He tipped her back, and she gasped as his face hovered over hers. “Our first kiss, Mrs. Daniels,” he said with a husky voice, the warmth of his breath upon her lips.

  “One of many, Captain.”

  His eyes glimmered and his lips met hers, spreading heat through her chest and all the way to her toes. When he set her right again, she knew her cheeks were flushed. She looked to Peggy, who had both hands clasped at her chin, her tears of joy mingling with her smile.

  The loved ones gathered clapped their hands, sending sounds of celebration into the gathering dusk.

  “One more thing, preacher, if I may,” George called out, causing everyone to turn. When they quieted, he gestured at Peggy.

  “Oh!” She lurched to her feet. “Hang on.”

  Annabelle tilted her head and looked to Lilly for explanation, but the other woman seemed just as confused as she.