The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels

by Stephenia H. McGee

  Peggy bustled over to the house and plucked something from the porch. She held it in front of her and started scurrying back toward the couples. Annabelle frowned. What on earth did Peggy need with a broom? This was hardly the time to be cleaning.

  Peggy hurried forward and extended the offering to George, who accepted it with a slight bow. “Thank you, Peggy.”

  She beamed at him, flashed a smile at Annabelle, and then returned to her place next to Grandmother, who seemed to already be apprised as to whatever was going on.

  George looked at his bride. “In order to honor all the traditions and customs of our families, I have asked Peggy to provide us with a broom.”

  Lilly placed a hand to her throat. “Oh, George…”

  He tossed it down in front of them, took her hand, and together they jumped over it. Peggy and Grandmother clapped, and Frankie—who could be contained no longer—ran forward to latch onto his mother’s legs.

  He turned his cherub cheeks up to Lilly. “Mama, do I have a papa now?”

  Lilly’s eyes shimmered. “Yes, baby. Yes, you do.”

  The three of them embraced, and Annabelle turned to look at the happiness on the face of the man she loved. Sensing her gaze, Matthew turned his eyes back to Annabelle, the joy there deepening into something much more.

  He leaned close to her ear. “I have waited what feels like years. I am most eager to finish our marital rights.”

  Heat flooded Annabelle’s face. “I’m afraid you must wait until after we’ve eaten what Peggy has prepared, else we might never hear the last of it.”

  Matthew groaned, and she slowly slid her hand up his sleeve, offering a smile that hinted she looked forward to the time as well.

  Matthew took her arm and led the way back inside to the dining room, where the rose-scented breeze drifting through the dining room windows mingled with the smells of the food that nearly overflowed their table.

  Annabelle took her place next to her husband at one end of the finely polished table, while George sat at the other end and the rest of the group filled in around the sides. She ran her hand across the inlaid wood. A different pattern from what Father’s had been, but every bit as beautiful. At least, as much as she could see of it underneath the platters of food clustered in the center.

  Annabelle had insisted that Peggy not serve them, but rather they all passed around the platters so that they could serve themselves. Though it all smelled heavenly, Annabelle found her stomach danced about too much for her to enjoy much. Even Matthew picked at his plate, his usual robust appetite absent.

  When the meal came to an end and they had passed around Peggy’s chocolate pie, Matthew rose and extended his hand to Annabelle. She placed her hand in his, noticing how warm it felt beneath her fingers.

  He inclined his head to their guests. “I thank you all for this time of fellowship, laughter, and good food, but it is time I carry my bride to our chamber.”

  Annabelle looked to Lilly, who gave her a knowing smile and then rose as well, gesturing for George to follow. The look on his face might have been comical, if not for the fact that Annabelle now had an idea about the meaning of the look that passed between George and his bride. Having both been wed before, they knew the secrets of what went on between husband and wife.

  She looked back to Matthew. Secrets she was soon to discover. Matthew took her hand, gently tugged her away from the table and scooped her into his arms. She giggled as her feet were swept off the floor, accompanied by the laughs of those in attendance. Matthew nodded to the others, and then his long strides whisked her from the room. In a matter of heartbeats, he sat her down in their new chamber.

  Flustered, Annabelle sought a match to light the lantern—something for her nervous hands to do. Behind her, Matthew made a low noise in his throat, and then his arms were around her waist. She tilted her head to the side, the match falling from her fingers.

  He trailed soft kisses up her neck and to the soft spot behind her ear, and she trembled. Then he took her hand and led her toward the bed.

  The next morning Annabelle awoke in a tangle of sheets, her head resting on the hard muscles of Matthew’s chest. He breathed evenly, the golden hair she’d asked him not to cut splayed out across the pillow. She let her gaze flow down the length of him, his body not obscured by a single thread of cloth.

  “You watch me, wife.”

  Annabelle startled, tearing her gaze back to his face.

  Amused, he lifted his hand to tangle his fingers in her loose hair. “Like what you see?”

  Annabelle bit her lip, remembering all that had bound them on the night past. “Quite, husband.”

  He turned his gaze down upon her figure that was no more covered than his. “I am pleased as well, my lady.” His voice grew husky.

  An hour later they emerged onto a day that already grew hot. They opened the door at the end of the upper hall and stepped out onto the balcony to catch the breeze. Matthew wrapped his arm around Annabelle’s shoulders and drew her close, gesturing to the land below. “Soon, we will see these fields green once more, sprouting with new crops.”

  She pressed closer to him and looked out over the lands she loved, dreaming of seeing them restored. Heavy footsteps in the hall made them turn to see Peggy puffing out her cheeks, her hands already on her hips.

  She stepped through the door and pointed a finger at them. “You two know what time it is?”

  Annabelle glanced at Matthew. “No… I don’t believe we do.”

  “It be past nine in the morning, that’s what.”

  Annabelle stared at Peggy, confused as to why the exact time mattered.

  Peggy huffed. “Ya’ll know you gonna make me serve you cold breakfast! Now get on down them stairs before my biscuits go to waste!”

  Matthew laughed. “Forgive us, Peggy. We shall be down in only a moment.”

  They watched Peggy turn to go, mumbling something about them having no regard for good food.

  When Peggy started down the stairs again, Matthew slipped his hand around Annabelle’s waist. “Much as I would like to skip breakfast and return you to our room, I think we best not risk her ire.”

  Annabelle laughed as they stepped inside the house. “No, best not do that.” She looked up at him with a sly smile. “But perhaps after….”

  Matthew pulled her close against him, his love for her gleaming in his eyes. “Aye, Mrs. Daniels, after.”

  Christmas, 1867

  Annabelle admired the decorations upon the hearth as she placed a tray of candied yams on the table.

  “Looks right nice, don’t it?” Peggy asked, stepping up beside her to deposit a basket of steaming rolls and a platter of smoked venison.

  Annabelle placed a finger to her nose, hoping the mingling smells of such an array of food wouldn’t turn her stomach.

  Peggy lifted her eyebrows and gave Annabelle a look that made her wonder if she guessed Annabelle’s secret. The corners of Peggy’s mouth turned up. “I think some more of your guests has arrived. Why don’t you go on out to the hall to greet them?”

  Grateful, Annabelle slipped from the room just as there was a knock upon the front door. Matthew emerged from the parlor and in two strides had his hand upon the knob. After a hearty laugh and manly shoulder slapping, Matthew stepped back from the entryway and ushered in a distinguished looking man with dark hair. The beautiful woman on his arm smiled brightly, her rose colored gown the perfect complement to her peachy lips and mahogany hair.

  Matthew gestured to his waiting wife. “Annabelle! Come meet my favorite cousin Charles Harper and his wife Lydia!”

  Annabelle stepped closer and welcomed the couple she had heard a great deal about. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you both!”

  A small figure suddenly burst through the door, ducking between the adults’ legs and rushing headlong down the hall without pause.

  “Robert!” Lydia scolded, lifting her skirts and hurrying to chase after the boy who turned and darted into the parlo
r.

  “Hands full there, Charles?” Matthew asked.

  His cousin chuckled. “More than you know.” He grinned. “And I’ve just learned our family will grow once more.”

  Matthew slapped his cousin on the shoulder again, conveying his congratulations. By the time Lydia emerged from the parlor with the pouting boy in tow, another commotion came at the door, which had been left open during the greeting and now allowed the entrance of air that was still much too temperate for December. To think, Christmas Eve and for the last week they had only needed to stoke the hearths at night.

  A large man filled the doorway, his height and width nearly as imposing as Matthew’s. He twisted a hat in his large hands, standing there awkwardly as a willowy woman several shades lighter than the man’s ebony tones pushed past him.

  “Don’t just stand there gawkin’, Noah,” the woman scolded. “Help me get Lucas to come inside the house. He won’t stop playin’ with the carriage horses.”

  The big man nodded at her and scrambled back outside, looking relieved. Lydia, having deposited her energetic boy into Peggy’s care in the dining room, took the woman’s hand and pulled her closer, gesturing to Annabelle. “Ruth, this is Annabelle, the bride of Charles’s cousin Matthew.”

  The woman offered her a pretty smile. “Thank you for welcoming me and Noah into your home, ma’am.”

  Annabelle smiled. “I am most pleased. George and Lilly should be here soon with their boy Frankie and baby Anna. I’m sure the children will love to play together.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Perhaps that will help tempt your boy indoors?”

  Ruth gave Lydia an appreciative look before speaking to Annabelle. “I reckon it would. Thank you, Mrs. Daniels.”

  “Please, Annabelle is fine.” She nodded toward the stairs. “Come, let me show you to your rooms so your husbands will know where to bring your things.”

  Later that evening, once all their guests had arrived and settled, they gathered in the dining room and around the table Grandmother had gifted them on their wedding day. Matthew took his place at the head of the table, and Annabelle sat to his right.

  “We thank you all for joining us to celebrate the birth of the Savior. It is a great honor to have you all in our home,” Matthew said, smiling at the guests.

  Annabelle let her gaze drift over the faces seated at their table—George and Lilly, who smiled down at the sweet baby girl in her arms, Grandmother and her new girl Violet, Peggy, Uncle Michael and the charming Miss Nettles—who Annabelle suspected he might soon ask to be his bride—Charles and Lydia, their friends and plantation managers Noah and Ruth, and then finally to the little boys, Frankie, Robert, and Lucas, who seemed keen on finding mischief.

  The meal was shared in a warmth of laughter and love, and Annabelle’s heart swelled with the sounds of the family around her. The times of reconstruction had been hard upon them all, and Rosswood had experienced quite a few hardships. But in spite of all that war had wrought, here in the love and warmth of family, Annabelle knew that they would continue to rebuild and that the future held even more joy. Underneath the table, she slid her fingers across the velvet at her waist. The time had come to present Matthew with her gift.

  As her husband called for an end to the meal, she placed a hand upon his arm. “First, husband, I would give you a present.”

  The table quieted, and Matthew cocked his head. “I thought we would exchange gifts in the morning.”

  She gave a sly smile. “This one I would give now.”

  In response to his curious expression, she patted his arm and rose to retrieve the small bundle she had hidden in a drawer of the china cabinet. She’d wrapped it in a plain cotton cloth and secured it with a ribbon. She smiled at those gathered at the table, noting the way the women smiled knowingly and the men looked on in confusion.

  Annabelle placed the bundle in Matthew’s waiting hands, and then stood by his side as he tugged the ribbon free. He pulled the cloth aside, and then slowly, his fingers grasped what was folded inside. Beneath her hand, she felt his shoulders lift with a sudden intake of breath.

  Did she detect a shake to his fingers as he unfolded the tiny gown, raising it high for all to see?

  “Oh!” Grandmother exclaimed.

  As the others began to cheer, Matthew turned wide eyes on her. “A babe, Annabelle?”

  Annabelle smiled, her heart swelling to the point she feared it would burst free of her. After two years, it seemed the Lord had finally blessed them with new life. She nodded, her throat too tight for words.

  “How long have you known?” he asked, looking at the tiny garment in his hands.

  “A few weeks, now. I wanted to wait to tell you until we were surrounded by family. I thought Christmas a good timing to reveal it.”

  Matthew stared at her, then gave a mighty shout and pulled her down into his lap. She fell into giggles as he pressed his face against her hair. “It is the best of gifts, my love.”

  Before she could melt from embarrassment he set her right on her feet, and soon they were surrounded with the well wishes and congratulations of the others, wrapping them in a cocoon of happiness.

  Matthew held tight to her hand, and she placed her fingers on the life within. A new little one to grow up within the walls of Rosswood.

  Here they would build a new future for their child, free from the pains of war. And Annabelle prayed that in the generations that came after, ever would there be love and joy echoing within the halls of Rosswood.

  The End

  Dear reader,

  I hope you enjoyed The Liberator Series, and this journey with me back to times long gone. If you would kindly leave a few words of review online and tell your friends about it, I would be most grateful! Word of mouth is the utmost recommendation an author can receive, and it helps me keep putting books in your hands!

  Thank you!

  Stephenia H. McGee

  Historical Note

  After the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, hundreds of people were taken in by the Washington City Police and held for questioning in the Old Capitol Prison—which citizens did attempt to burn. While the descriptions of the prison itself were by my own design, the events that happened within it are recorded in history.

  The events that unfolded at the Surratt house, including the odd dress and all words spoken by Lewis Payne, are recorded in the testimony given by the detectives during the trial. All of Payne’s interactions with Mrs. Surratt as well as Mrs. Surratt’s words with the detectives, are as they are recorded in the trial records.

  The trial records also provided a valuable insight into the manhunt and capture of John Wilkes Booth. All of the manhunt events I used in this book are recorded there, including the interview with Jett and the scene of finding Booth in the barn. All the words by Conger and Baker, except some direct words to Matthew, are quotes taken from their testimony at the trial. Words from the soldiers, the Garrett family, and Booth and Harold in this scene are as they are recorded in the trial records, as given on multiple accounts from those present. I found it fascinating that at one point Booth calls out to a Captain, declaring he knew him to be “an honorable man”. Though I don’t know the actual person he addressed, it seemed Matthew would be a perfect fit in this scene. The trial records are available through the National Archives.

  The details given about the White House and Lincoln’s funeral, including those in attendance, the tickets needed to enter, and all the words spoken by the officiators are as described in various newspapers from the time.

  Though the term “post-traumatic stress disorder” had not yet been realized, soldiers from the Civil War nonetheless suffered from its effects. The use of alcohol and the nightmares and panic attacks George and Matthew face are things soldiers dealt with, and so I included them within the story.

  As with the other books, the quotes at the top of each chapter are direct quotes taken from various historical accounts.

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed this trip back in time w
ith me, and that my characters’ involvement in this tumultuous time in history brought it to life for you.

  Acknowledgements

  Primarily, I’d like to thank my husband. The year spent writing this series was fraught with various trials for our family. He was always there to support me, often by way of dishes I’d forgot to wash and laundry I never managed to fold. He’s supported me in every way imaginable, and I don’t think this series would have come out without him.

  Thanks again to Doc for the meticulous edits and for the speed at which you delivered them. I never would have been able to put this series in my readers’ hands in under 10 months if it wasn’t for you. You always help me make my work shine. Any remaining typos and errors are entirely my fault.

  One final shout out to all the awesome people involved in the photo shoots and design of the cover. Melissa Harper for costume work and photography and Katie Beth and Mark for a long day in stifling period dress. All of you were a pleasure to work with. Ravven, once again you put up with me until we found the balance between what I envisioned and what you know works. You are a talented artist and a joy to work with.

  I’d also like to thank Rich Stevens for his help with the military aspects of this novel. He helped me have a deeper understanding of the post-traumatic stress disorder that plagued soldiers as well as the technicalities of weapons and mannerisms of soldiers during that time. Any inaccuracies or errors are on me.

  This year, Rosswood and the world lost a wonderful man. Colonel Walt went to his home with his Savior, and will be missed not only by his family and loved ones, but by all who visit Rosswood. Mr. Hylander, I would like to thank you for your enthusiasm about this project and for introducing Rosswood’s guests to Annabelle and Matthew’s story.

  If you are ever in Lorman, Mississippi, stop by and see Ray and his mother Miss Jean. As of this writing, Rosswood functions as a bed and breakfast and it is an exceptional place to enjoy fine company and a dose of history. And in the morning, you’ll even be treated to an outstanding breakfast, made by Rosswood’s very own Miss Peggy.