“I think…you already…know him…better,” her father said when he’d recovered.
“Better?”
“Than…you ever did…Billy.”
Maria looked away from her father’s quiet gaze, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness at how little he understood of the situation. She didn’t know Max Woodard at all.
“Hurry…away now…before the groom…comes and…sees you. We don’t want…any bad luck…this day.”
“Father—”
“Go,” he said, shooing her feebly with his hand.
She caught it and pressed it to her cheek for a moment and then placed it gently on the bed.
Bruno opened the door, and Kate came in immediately to help maneuver the train. Maria gave her father one last look as she went out, but his eyes were closed.
“Are you all right?” Kate asked as they walked back to the sanctuary of Maria’s room.
“Yes—no.”
“All will be well.”
Maria looked at her, trying hard not to give in to the urge to cry.
“It will,” Kate insisted.
Maria nodded, but the truth was that she didn’t know Kate Woodard—any more than she knew her brother—and she couldn’t find any comfort at all in her well-meaning words.
When Kate had Maria situated on her perch again, she handed her a handkerchief and quietly left the room.
Maria gave a wavering sigh, but she didn’t weep. And for once she was glad that the grandfather clock was gone. At least, she didn’t have to hear it chime every fifteen minutes of the wait. Whether Max came to marry her or didn’t, the anxiety was the same.
Whose duty would it be to call the wedding off if Max didn’t show? she suddenly wondered.
The minister, she decided. He announced it; he could unannounce it.
The door opened just a crack, and Mrs. Woodard peered in.
“Maria?” she said tentatively. “I think we should talk.”
And Maria’s heart fell. The wedding was off—and Mrs. Woodard had come to tell her the bad—good?—news.
“Maria,” Mrs. Woodard began again.
“Please,” Maria said. “It will be better to just say it, I think.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Woodard agreed. She took a deep breath. “About the wedding…night. You have no mother to ask and I thought—if you have questions—questions that I can perhaps answer for you—about what happens…”
Maria could feel herself blush.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Woodard concluded.
“Perhaps I’ve been indelicate.”
“No,” Maria hastened to say. “Ceily has already…made the offer to…advise me.”
“Ah. Well. That’s all right, then. I’ll just go and leave you to your thoughts. And, dear Maria, may I say you look lovely?”
“Yes,” Maria answered, smiling slightly. “As often as you like.”
“Darling girl,” Mrs. Woodard said, giving her a careful hug before she left Maria alone again. “You have made my son care about his life again—and for that I shall always be grateful.”
After Max’s mother had gone, Maria alternated trying to decide what the woman had meant and trying to listen to whatever was going on outside. The room grew hot and stuffy. She felt sticky and half smothered. After a time, she reached the point where she just wanted it all to be over—one way or the other.
There was a rapid, staccato knock on the door suddenly, and she jumped. The door opened before she could say anything.
“He’s here, he’s here, he’s here!” Ceily whispered frantically as she lunged into the room. “The minister’s waiting. Mrs. Woodard is waiting. The Kinnards and Mrs. Justice are waiting. James and his kind are waiting—so let’s go. Are you ready? Where’s Kate?”
“I don’t know,” Maria said, flooded with relief and ready to bolt all at the same time.
“Where’s the bouquet?”
“Over there,” Maria said pointing.
He’s here, she thought, dazed. He’s really here.
She tried to stand up. Her legs wouldn’t quite cooperate.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ceily insisted. “Let me fix the veil, then we’ll get the bouquet. Do you know what Colonel Woodard asked me? He asked me if he had time to shave. I said, ‘For heaven’s sake, no, you don’t have time to shave!’ The very idea! Of course, James had a fit—he says you can’t say things like that to a colonel—they do as they please. I told him he can’t say things like that. I’m not on the troop roster. Anyway, the colonel’s very handsome if un-barbered self is waiting right outside—and he is most presentable in a dress uniform, even if it is the wrong army—wait till you see. Are you ready now? Can you stand up?”
“Yes—and yes,” Maria said, managing to get to her feet.
“You look so beautiful, Maria. He’s going to be so surprised!”
Maria couldn’t help but laugh at the left-handed compliment.
“No—I meant…well, you know what I meant!” Ceily said, dissolving into laughter with her.
“Now, we can’t stand here giggling,” Ceily said. “It’s just not done. Come on. If Kate’s not here, I’ll get the train. No, I’ll get the door—then I’ll get the train.”
Somehow Maria made it out into the hallway intact. Max stood near the head of the stairs, and his startled look made her see the truth in Ceily’s observation. She couldn’t say with any great certainty that she was beautiful—but she could definitely say that he was surprised.
But no more surprised than she. In need of a shave or not, he was indeed splendid in his dress uniform. And he was tired. Whatever he’d been doing in the two days he’d been gone, it hadn’t involved rest or sleep.
Someone started playing the piano downstairs, and Max came forward to meet her. “Miss Markham,” he said with great formality, offering her his arm. She took it, holding on for dear life, while Ceily fussed with the train.
When Ceily—and a harried Kate—had taken their places, Maria dared to look at him. He was smiling—almost.
“It’s a very good thing I made it in time,” he said.
“Is it?”
“Do you see my staff over there?”
She glanced in the direction he indicated with a slight movement of his head. A significant number of Yankee officers stood along the row of potted ferns, all of them looking in her direction.
“They were going to duel each other for the right to step into my shoes if I didn’t get back here.”
He was deliberately teasing her, and she knew it—perhaps to negate any distress he might have caused her by his late arrival, perhaps because he liked to unsettle her and had since the day they met. Even so, she smiled.
“There’s something you should know,” she said quietly as the minister motioned for them to come forward.
“What?”
“The ‘obey’ part of this ceremony? I’m probably not going to mean it.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined in Matrimony, you do now confess it…”
An unborn baby with an unnamed father, Maria thought.
Was that an impediment?
No emotional attachment.
Was that just cause?
She pushed both questions aside and forced herself to concentrate on the minister, answering when she was suppose to answer, receiving the heavy gold ring Max had provided, until finally it was done.
“I pronounce that ye be man and wife together…”
Man and wife together.
Aside from wanting to give as good as she got, she had meant what she said about not “obeying.” But at the same time, it surprised her how much she did mean the rest of it. She intended—if not to love, then to respect and honor—in sickness and in health. Max had stated plainly that he did not want a marriage in name only—and she would oblige him in that, a
s well. It came as a great surprise to her how much she wanted the marriage to succeed, and she would do her part to make that happen.
“God bless, preserve and keep you, Maxwell and Maria,” the minister said. “Maxwell, you may kiss your bride.”
The kiss Max gave her was brief and chaste, a gentle brushing of his lips against hers. Yet, it was a reminder of what had happened earlier and a promise of what was to come—and they both knew it.
Max immediately led Maria to speak to her father.
“Just…right,” her father whispered to her. “A ceremony…long enough…to take, but not to…torture. I rejoice…that I have…lived to witness…this day. See that…Bruno…gets something…good to eat from the…bridal table…will you, daughter?”
“Yes, Father,” she said, kissing his cheek.
“And me…too…while you’re…at it.”
“It’s already taken care of. All the things you shouldn’t have will be on the way shortly—except cigars.”
Her father laughed softly and feebly patted her cheek.
“Take her…to your…guests…Maxwell. So…I can get…fed.”
“I’ll do that, Sir,” Max said.
He led Maria away to his mother and Kate—both of whom cried, as did Mrs. Justice. Acacia Kinnard, on the other hand, was quite in control. And, with much effort on her part, so was Valentina. Mrs. Russell had been invited to witness the ceremony, but she was conspicuously absent.
The faces of the Yankee officers passed by in a blur, all of their well wishes to the colonel and his lady seeming surprisingly heartfelt.
Maria glanced at Max from time to time, but she couldn’t read his expression. If he was happy—or even content—about the situation or if he had regrets, she couldn’t begin to tell.
Perkins appeared at the head of the stairs and disappeared again as soon as he’d caught Max’s eye. Kate immediately stepped forward to help Maria find the wrist loop on the train so she could walk with at least some ease now that they were no longer concerned about crushed roses.
The downstairs was jammed with people. Clearly, the invitation committee had outdone itself.
As she and Max came into view, a round of applause began among the guests in the foyer and spread through the house. Still holding on to Max’s arm, Maria spoke to the people she’d known all her life, one by one: the mayor and city council, friends of her father and her mother—some of whom she hadn’t encountered in ages—schoolteachers, people from church, the doctor and his wife. She accepted all their well-wishes as graciously as she could, trying not to blush at the heavy-handed references to a hopefully quick arrival of little Woodard-Markham babies and marveling that her new husband seemed to take the remarks all in stride. She marveled, too, that, as with the Yankee officers, the well-wishes seemed genuine.
“One more tier,” Max said in an allusion to Mrs. Justice’s ingenious plan. He led the way through the dining room and out the side door into the yard.
Maria had known that Ceily’s husband had kept a number of soldiers busy decorating, but she had no idea to what degree. As she and Max led the guests outside, she hardly recognized the grounds. The soldiers had built a low wooden platform and placed long tables with starched, white-linen tablecloths and numerous chairs all around the edge of it. Maria could see a number of cut-crystal candelabras like the ones she had once thought, in her young girl’s naiveté, she would require to celebrate her first appearance with her new husband.
Billy. It was supposed to have been Billy.
The candle flames flickered in the early twilight, but stayed lit. There were more white ribbons and greenery placed all around—and there was a huge wedding cake and piles and piles of food: thinly sliced bread and butter, cracker bonbons, sweets of all kinds, tarts, meat pies, nuts, pickles and punch. Lanterns hung from the trees to light the celebration, and nearly as many soldiers as it must have taken to put all this together, now diligently waved fans and branches to keep any insects away.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” James Carscaddon announced loudly. “I give you Colonel and Mrs. Woodard.”
Once again there was a round of applause. People stepped forward to offer their congratulations—many of whom Maria knew. Perkins approached and snapped to attention.
“Now, Sir?”
“Now, Perkins,” Max said.
The sergeant major immediately trotted to the side of the platform and picked up a fiddle. And, incredibly, he began to play—a poignant, three-quarter time waltz. The beautifully haunting music swirled around them, and Max held out his hand.
“Will you dance with me, Mrs. Woodard?” he said.
Maria hesitated, then took it, letting him lead her out onto the middle of the platform. It had been a very long time since she had waltzed—she wasn’t even certain she remembered how. But Max Woodard was a gifted partner, and he danced her easily around the floor. The music rose, and everything became a blur—the faces of the people looking on, the candlelight and decorations—everything but him. She felt as if she were in a dream, with no sense of how she had gotten to this point or where she was going from here. Max’s sad eyes looked into hers, but he said nothing. There might have been no one in the world but the two of them—and Perkins.
Someone had told him, she suddenly realized. About the crystal candelabras. About the waltz.
The song ended, and the regimental band promptly took over with another more lively tune. Max gave her a bow and handed her over to Lieutenant Carscaddon, the first in a series of young officers determined to dance with the bride and tread mercilessly upon her toes. Max turned away to partner his mother, and then Kate.
When he finally rescued Maria from his staff, they made the rounds again, speaking with every guest, encouraging them all to partake of the food and celebration. Outsider or not, arbitrarily reviled or not, Max Woodard was completely at ease in the situation. But then he had always seemed in command, Maria thought—except for the night of the thunderstorm.
At one point she looked up at her father’s window, surprised to find him sitting there, propped up by pillows and Bruno—and Joe and Jake. The boys waved vigorously, and, with Bruno’s help, her father held up a plate to show her he was well-supplied with every forbidden food available. Maria blew him a kiss, and Max gave him a solemn bow.
“Thank you,” Maria said as they began to dance again.
“For what?” he asked.
“For all this—and for getting it done in time for my father to see it.”
“It…meets your expectations?”
“It is beyond my expectations. I thank you, too, for my wedding gift.”
“And what gift would that be?”
“Warrie Hansen. She says she thinks that she is my wedding present.”
“Well, I didn’t have time for much else,” he said, and another of his officers respectfully cut in and whisked her away.
The mayor made his obligatory speech and toast, giving Maria a brief respite from soldiers with two left feet. She and Max cut the cake—with a cavalry sword—and then there was more dancing.
Once, when Maria was waltzing with the regimental surgeon, she thought she saw Nell standing among the trees on the other side of the street. Nell and a man—Phelan? She couldn’t tell for certain in the twilight.
She tried to get a better look but there were too many people in the way.
It couldn’t be Phelan, she decided. He was long gone, and even if he were here, he would never hang back and hide in the underbrush, particularly on the occasion of her marriage to a Yankee colonel. He’d be right here, happy for an opportunity to save Southern womanhood from yet another Yankee soldier’s clutches.
And just how different was she from Nell? Maria thought suddenly. She was no less mercenary in her dealings with Max Woodard than Nell was with her soldier clientele—only Maria’s reward was a tenuous respectability and legitimacy for her child rather than hard cash.
Poor Phelan would never understand that neither she nor Nell needed
saving.
Maria glanced up at her father’s window again. He and the boys were no longer in view. She supposed that between Warrie and Bruno, all three of them had been put to bed for the evening.
The regimental surgeon said something she didn’t hear over the music.
“I beg your pardon?” she said.
“I said my name is Strauss. Major Edwin Strauss. It occurred to me that I have been here to see Mr. Markham many times, and while you have always thanked me kindly after every visit, we have never been introduced.”
“How do you do, Major?” Maria said politely, and he laughed. He also abruptly stopped dancing. “I believe the colonel has some concern about the celebration,” he said, taking her firmly by the arm.
Maria looked around her until she spotted Max, deep in conversation with Perkins and looking toward the woods where Nell had been.
“Colonel Woodard has us all on the alert for any trouble,” Major Strauss said. “I believe I will let you sit out the rest of this dance, Mrs. Woodard—inside the house.”
“But I—”
“Inside,” he said again. “The colonel has said your safety is the prime concern.”
He escorted her firmly toward the house whether she wanted to go or not. She thought he would leave her inside the door, but he didn’t. He took her all the way upstairs to her bedchamber.
“I would like to check on my father,” she said when he opened the door.
“I will do that. If he’s awake, I’ll come and tell you. For now, wait here, Mrs. Woodard. I mean it.”
And to show her that he did, he summoned another soldier to keep vigil outside the door.
“Am I allowed to know nothing?” Maria asked. “Please,” she said when he was about to dismiss her concern.
“There is a vigilante group about. They have taken up the business of keeping your people in line. I believe your husband has made an enemy of them. That’s all I can tell you. Now stay inside. For both our sakes. I can assure you, if any harm comes to you, your husband will have my hide. If you must light the lamp—stay away from the window.”
He waited until she had stepped back, then firmly closed the door.
The Bride Fair Page 21
