Shadow of Dawn

by Diaz, Debra

  Catherine stared indignantly at a trio of girls about her own age who stood by flirting with him, bracelets tinkling as they jiggled their wrists, earbobs dancing as they tossed their heads, necklaces glittering on overexposed bosoms. The unmarried girls were not permitted to nurse the wounded men but ran errands for convalescing soldiers. Catherine did not know these young women but had seen them at the hospital. She wanted to slap them.

  She saw Clayton make an almost imperceptible gesture with his head toward a uniformed man nearby. The man turned and looked at Catherine, and after a moment he began making his way toward her, stopping once in a while to speak to someone else.

  “Mrs. Kelly, how nice to see you,” he said when he reached her. “Hello, sir. You probably don’t remember me, Mrs. Kelly, but you got me through quite a bout with pneumonia.”

  Catherine was certain she had never seen him before. “Of course,” she said. “Though I’m not good at remembering names.”

  “Major Benjamin Knight, at your service,” he said with a bow. “Major Pierce and I were just speaking about you the other day. Neither one of us will ever forget your kindness.”

  “I…I’m not sure I remember Major Pierce.”

  “He had two gunshot wounds. I know he would like to thank you personally. If you’ll excuse me I’ll get him.” He bowed again and left them.

  “A regular angel of mercy, weren’t you?” Andrew said, deferentially.

  Catherine hardly heard him. Clayton had disentangled himself from his horde of admirers and was beginning to walk toward her. Her heart hammered forcefully in her chest.

  “Mrs. Kelly,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “My name is Clayton Pierce. Major Knight said he’d spoken to you and I wanted to be sure to give you my regards, and to thank you for your excellent care of me during my stay in the hospital.”

  She swallowed. “Thank you, Major Pierce.”

  He released her hand and waited.

  “This is my husband, Captain Andrew Kelly.”

  Clayton looked surprised, then puzzled, as they shook hands.

  “Is something wrong, sir?” Andrew asked.

  Clayton shrugged and laughed a little. “A strange coincidence. I heard of a Captain Andrew Kelly who died last September.”

  Andrew looked bemused. “Obviously a mistake. Or someone with the same name.”

  “He was in Early’s division,” Clayton said casually. “May I ask, who is your commanding officer?”

  Catherine saw Andrew’s jaw go rigid. “As I said, Major Pierce, it was obviously a mistake, for I am very much alive.”

  “Indeed,” Clayton said, apparently deciding to drop the matter.

  “Perhaps you would allow me the honor of a dance with Mrs. Kelly later in the evening, Captain.”

  “My wife has been ill, Major. I fear I must decline.”

  Catherine saw Clayton’s quick look of concern and said smoothly, “Why, Andrew, why else would I come here? I’ve had a cold, Major Pierce, but I’m much better now.”

  Clayton bowed slightly, glancing at each of them in turn. “If you are certain, ma’am. Pleased to have met you, Captain Kelly.” He walked away and his attention was immediately claimed by a middle-aged woman and her young, curvaceous daughter.

  Andrew brought Catherine some pecans and a small piece of cake from the refreshment table. The musicians had set themselves up in a corner of the dining room, and after a trial run-through of “Old Susannah,” they burst immediately into “Dixie.” Afterward Andrew led her out onto the floor for a waltz. She could not tell if he moved in just the same way her first husband had; she could barely remember those hurried days two years ago.

  Major Knight asked her for a dance; fortunately it didn’t last long for she was already tired. Some time later Clayton approached them, looked at them inquiringly, and held out his hand.

  “May I claim that dance now, Mrs. Kelly?”

  Catherine smiled reassuringly at Andrew and stepped with Clayton into the adjoining room. Moving some distance away from the other dancers, Clayton said, “Don’t worry. Ben will keep Andrew busy talking about something or other.”

  As he swept her into the waltz, she made a conscious effort not to appear to be in a state of perfect bliss. And, to be sure, it was not altogether perfect, for Clayton did not hold her as closely as she would have liked.

  “You are pale, madam,” he said gravely, though his expression was deliberately calm and pleasant. “I see faint circles beneath your eyes. What exactly has been the nature of your illness?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I caught a cold after getting wet the other night. I’m quite well.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, Major.”

  His candid glance went around the room. “We must be quick. I’ll not dance with you more than once. Have you talked to Miranda about him?”

  “Yes, just briefly. She says there aren’t any birthmarks or anything remarkable on either twin. They were exactly alike.”

  “Perhaps you should question him about his family, as though you’re making idle conversation. And if he’s really Andrew he should know the circumstances of your wedding night.”

  “Yes, I never thought of that. But Clayton, I’m certain he’s not Andrew.”

  “You thought he was until you found out about John. There must be no doubt, Catherine. I wish I had more time. We may not be able to discover the truth about the Kellys until this war is over. And I doubt this Mr. Kelly…whoever he is…will be able to resist your considerable charms for another year or two.”

  “Why do you think he’s waited this long?”

  “Oh, there could be any number of reasons. I’m inclined to believe that he is John Kelly, and he thinks that in a truly intimate moment you might realize it.”

  “But he can’t expect us to go on like this for the rest of our lives!”

  Clayton thought for a moment. “If he is hiding from something, he may not expect to stay with you for very long.”

  “You mean he might just disappear one day and never return? Another desertion! People will certainly start to wonder about me.”

  “That’s why we have to find the truth, and as soon as possible. I’ll do everything I can…I’ve already put Mrs. Shirley on the trail of John Kelly, providing there is a trail.”

  Catherine’s tiredness was turning into a deep fatigue and dizziness, but she fought not to show it. “What are we going to do about Bart? Sallie is going out of her mind. I feel terrible about it.”

  “I know. A couple of men have been watching the house in the woods. We thought the killer might come back and try to bury the body, but that hasn’t happened. I would expect his body to be discovered in the next day or two by a ‘hunter’ passing by.”

  “I told Ephraim about Bart. I told him just about everything.”

  He nodded. “That’s fine. He’s a good man. He’ll watch over you.”

  “That’s just what he said about you. Clayton, how did you arrange all this?”

  “Actually, Mrs. Shirley did most of the arranging. I think the president is ill, but Mrs. Davis will be down shortly. You’ll like—” He broke off. “What is it?”

  Another wave of dizziness washed over her. She faltered in a step and at once Clayton stopped and drew her aside. She found herself sitting in a chair next to the small, unlit fireplace, and then he was pressing a glass into her hand.

  “Drink this,” he said, his voice hard and tight as if he were angry. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

  She sipped the punch and gradually felt strength returning to her limbs.

  Clayton spoke swiftly and very low. “There’s nobody around us, Catherine, so I’ll say this…I hate this situation as much as you do and somehow I’m going to fix it. I hate the thought of that man calling himself your husband going home with you. If he harms a hair on your head, I’ll kill him.”

  Catherine kept her eyes on the glass she held in both hands, not daring

  to look at him.
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  “And most of all I hate this war that keeps us apart. I’d almost risk everything for a moment alone with you.” He continued with quiet intensity, “Catherine, remember how much I love you, and hold onto that no matter what. Someday, I promise you, we’ll be together. And now I have to bring him to you…he’ll think it strange if I don’t.”

  He turned abruptly and walked away. Catherine felt hot and flushed; she pulled out her handkerchief and fanned herself with it.

  In a moment Clayton returned with Andrew, who looked worried. “I believe your wife is not as well as she thought. Are you feeling better, Mrs. Kelly?”

  She nodded, her head bent. Andrew knelt down to look into her face, and touched her cheek. “My poor dear, we’ll go home at once, of course. Thank you for seeing to her, Major Pierce. Come, Catherine…can you walk?”

  “Yes.”

  Andrew stood and helped her to her feet. Catherine made herself look at Clayton, who remained stiff and unsmiling.

  “Thank you for your kindness, Major. I’m sorry we couldn’t finish our waltz. Perhaps some other time.”

  Clayton bent over the hand she offered him and looked directly into her eyes. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. “Good night, ma’am. Captain.”

  They wished him good night, and Andrew ushered her out of the room. She waited for her cloak while Andrew asked for the carriage and sought out one of the hosts to express their regret at having to leave early.

  “President and Mrs. Davis will be sorry they didn’t get a chance to meet you,” the officer said graciously. “They do so admire the dedication of our nurses.”

  The carriage was brought around, with Tad in the driver’s seat. They climbed in and rode for a while in silence. Catherine huddled under her cloak and gazed out the window at the stars.

  “How do you know that man?”

  Catherine started. Her eyes flew to Andrew’s face but it was too dim in the carriage to see his expression, even with the small lamp that swung gently back and forth.

  “What do you mean? Who?”

  “Major Pierce.”

  “Andrew, I can’t understand what you mean.”

  “You know him. Or you took a very quick liking to him.”

  “I hardly took a liking to him. I was only being polite. He was telling me about the president. But I did remember seeing him before he was wounded, and I told him so. He was…he’s a friend of Bart’s.”

  “Bart!” Andrew seemed surprised.

  “Yes. He said they went to the University of Virginia together.”

  “Has he been to the Henderson’s’ house?”

  “You know, Andrew, I never pay much attention to Bart or his friends. Why, you act as though you’re jealous.”

  “Maybe I am,” he said quietly. “There was something about the way you looked at him.”

  “I’m sure you are mistaken.” She turned to look out the window again. Her mind raced along with her heartbeat. Was this the time to question Andrew, or was it too soon? Would he conclude that she and Clayton had been discussing him?

  She was tired of waiting. Weeks could go by and she might never find another opportunity to question him alone. As certain as she was that he was not Andrew, she and Clayton both knew that they could not live together as husband and wife as long as this man stood between them.

  “Andrew,” she began in a casual tone, “you’ve never told me much about your family. That is, I know your parents died. But don’t you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Not living,” he replied. “I really have no family, except for Miranda and some distant cousins. That’s why I had hoped you and I would have several children.”

  Catherine felt as though she would strangle over the words but managed to get them out. “I hoped that I would have a baby after you went away to war.”

  He laughed softly. “Now, Catherine, surely you were not as naïve as that!”

  She felt her heart literally skip a beat.

  “Are you testing my recollection of our wedding night? I remember being worried about your illness and, I must admit, being greatly disappointed.”

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice. “You’re right, Andrew. I wanted to see if you remembered. Nothing has turned out the way I expected it to.”

  “A situation I hope to remedy…very soon.”

  She coughed and pretended to fall back a little against the seat as though exhausted. She was exhausted, utterly. Her conviction that this man was not Andrew but was in fact his twin brother, John, shattered and fell in shards around her feet.

  But there were other ways he could have found out! Anyone in the family could have told him how she spent her wedding night. Though it was rather unlikely as a topic of conversation…

  Andrew said quietly, “Why don’t you just come right out and ask me what you want to know?”

  Again, her heart did a strange little flutter. “What?”

  “Someone has told you of my twin. You think I’m John, don’t you…masquerading as my brother Andrew?”

  Catherine sat up straight and stared at him.

  He leaned forward a little, so that the light from the lantern shone full upon his face. It was a serious and strangely sad face.

  “I assure you, I am Andrew. John was killed before the war. I found out but never told the family. He was a renegade…we never spoke of him. He was on a riverboat on the Mississippi. They caught him cheating at cards. In the night someone threw him overboard. They found blood on the deck, so most likely he was stabbed or beaten first.”

  “I’m sorry, Andrew,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “I don’t know who this Captain Kelly is that Major Pierce speaks of. They’re always making mistakes in the records. Either he’s honestly mistaken or, for some reason, is deliberately trying to deceive you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Why should he do that?”

  “Perhaps,” Andrew said clearly, “because he wants you.”

  Catherine forced a scoffing little laugh. “I daresay Major Pierce could have any woman in Richmond…why should he be interested in me?”

  “He strikes me as somewhat discerning. You are a woman of high ideals, an attribute especially attractive to a soldier. A soldier must believe in what he’s fighting for. It is easy to see in you all that epitomizes the South…generosity, devotion to traditions, devotion to God and, above all, charm.”

  “I’m not at all charming,” she said. “I’m quiet, usually. Father used to say I was far too bookish.”

  “That has an appeal all its own,” Andrew replied. “It takes a rare kind of man to appreciate it.”

  “Well, at any rate, I’m not interested in hearing any more about Mr. Pierce.”

  “Oh, but I am. In fact, I would like to find out everything there is to know about him.” He paused and added, rather absently, “Because I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of the major.”

  They arrived home, and after seeing her into her room, Andrew went down to the kitchen and returned with a cup of steaming hot tea. He waited while she drank it, already in her nightgown and sitting up in bed.