Emily's Song

by Christine Marciniak

  Luckily, the rooms were right upstairs. She’d change into the dress she’d worn for the rehearsal dinner last night and then rejoin the wedding party. Maybe take a quick shower to get the fish pond gunk out of her hair. The moon once again illuminated the yard. The music from the party had changed tone. It was quieter, more classical, less rock. A little something to make the grandparents happy.

  She didn’t want to run into anyone in her bedraggled and sopping state, so she headed to a back entrance. Her room was right near the top of the stairs. The upstairs hall was dim. Perhaps they turned down the lights at night to give the place more ambiance. The candle sconces on the wall did give a charming cozy glow to everything. She found her room and went in.

  She reached for the light switch but couldn’t find it. Enough light came through the window that she could see the canopy bed in the center of the room, but she couldn’t see much else. She shut the door and turned to the bathroom door. But that wasn’t where she thought it should be either. Was this the right room? She stepped back into the hallway and checked. First door by the stairs, definitely her room.

  Maybe that dip in the pond hadn’t sobered her up as much as she thought it had. Nothing seemed to be right. What she needed was to lie down and rest for a few minutes, then when her head cleared she’d figure out where everything was. She stripped out of her wet things and climbed, naked, between the sheets on the bed.

  A few minutes to clear her head. That’s all she needed.

  Chapter Two

  Sam—1861

  The quartet played a waltz.

  Sam Marshall looked across the room to where Dinah gazed at him expectantly. He had promised her this dance, and it would not do to disappoint her.

  Next to him, sipping from the silver flask he always carried, his friend George Phelps didn’t seem to notice the music had started again.

  “Maryland has to stay neutral. It’s her only chance.” George wiped his hand across his mouth.

  “No one is going to be able to stay neutral.” Sam didn’t want to think of war tonight. “No state and no person. Everyone is going to have to pick a side.” He took a step toward where Dinah stood, too much the lady to come collect him, but the expression on her face told him her patience was not unlimited.

  “I see you’ve picked yours.” George nodded toward Dinah.

  “Sometimes people make decisions, and sometimes decisions simply happen.”

  George grinned. “She’s a good girl. She’ll make you a fine wife.”

  “So everyone tells me.”

  With a nod to his friend, Sam made his way to Dinah, past the couples who already filled the dance floor, dodging hoop skirts as he went.

  “I was afraid I would be left without a partner.” She tapped his arm with her folded fan. “That would never do.”

  “It would not. I completely agree.” He made a courteous bow, took her gloved hand, and led her to the dance floor where they joined in the waltz.

  She was very pleasing to look at, with her blonde curls, her creamy skin, and mesmerizing blue eyes. She looked lovely in whatever she wore. Right now, she had on a blue ball gown with wide hoops, that made her waist appear impossibly thin. Her dress was low cut, showing the white curve of her breasts. He could write a poem about those breasts.

  She was also a good conversationalist. She was not one of those girls who only spoke of hair ribbons and dresses. No, she was very nice to talk to.

  She could dance as well.

  Sam had also been assured she could manage a house quite capably.

  She would give him handsome children.

  It was a good match.

  Certainly it was.

  Except he didn’t love her.

  His mother assured him love would come in time. He supposed that was true. And it would have been enough had he not known what true love was. He had loved Anna. He’d known her since they were children and loved her from the time they were sixteen, until she died of fever the summer before they were to wed.

  It had been five years now, and his mother, father, sister, friends, and pretty much everyone he knew were insisting he had to move on, to get married, to settle down. So, he would.

  Dinah wasn’t Anna, but she was delightful on many levels. She’d make a suitable wife.

  “You’re not thinking about war again, are you?” Dinah asked as they circled the dance floor.

  “Of course not,” he answered. “I’m thinking about what a beautiful bride you will make.” A little lie at times like these was completely acceptable.

  Her whole face lit up as she smiled. “Does that mean we officially announce our engagement today?”

  Sam couldn’t think of a person in the room who did not know an arrangement had been reached between the two of them, but yes, that was the purpose of the party, to announce their engagement.

  “We do.” He squeezed her hand gently in his. Yes, she would make a fine wife.

  The song ended, and Dinah’s dance card indicated she was to dance with her brother next. He had promised the next dance to his younger sister. He found Elizabeth surrounded, as usual, by preening men.

  “I believe this is my dance.” He held his hand out to her.

  She moved to the dance floor with him, and the band began playing a polka. “I’m sure Joseph is going to propose to me,” Elizabeth said, bubbling with enthusiasm. “Perhaps even tonight. We can have a double wedding.”

  Joseph had not been one of the half dozen men fawning over her. He may be her favorite, but Sam hadn’t seen any reason to believe the feelings were returned.

  “You made the right choice in Dinah,” Elizabeth said, paying no mind to his silence. “I’m so glad she’s going to be my sister.” The girls had been best of friends since they were tiny.

  “I aim to please.” He was pleasing everyone but himself.

  For each dance of each set, he found himself a sought-after partner. Dinah, of course, would have liked him to herself, but since his family was hosting the ball, he needed to make sure all the ladies present had a dance partner if they desired one, and sometimes that would be him.

  Honestly, Dinah didn’t suffer much, she had a partner for every dance.

  At the end of one set, the musicians once again played a grand march. Sam sought out his intended, and they followed the line of people heading into the supper room. The servants carried around platters of cold meats and breads and cheeses. He procured a glass of punch for Dinah and a glass of wine for himself.

  His father, as host of the party and owner of the house, though he had given over all responsibilities of running the plantation to Sam, clanked a knife on the edge of a glass to attract everyone’s attention. The room fell silent, and he beckoned to his son. Sam tucked Dinah’s hand into the crook of his arm and led her to where his father stood. Already sixty, Mr. Marshall was still a powerfully built man with a full head of hair, that had turned mostly gray. His bright green vest lent a dash of color to his otherwise dark suit.

  The past couple of weeks, when he’d been sitting with the assembly in Frederick trying to figure out what the state of Maryland should do in this unprecedented struggle, had been hard on him. Now he looked happy though. Happy and relaxed. And maybe a little bit drunk.

  “Family and friends and all gathered here. It gives me great pleasure to announce that my son, Samuel Marshall has promised to take Miss Dinah Johnson as his bride!”

  The assembled group clapped politely, and friends soon surrounded Sam and Dinah offering hearty congratulations. He let himself be led, by George and the others, out to the veranda where it was cooler and one could breathe easier, without the overwhelming scent of perfume and sweat that permeated the ballroom.

  “Caleb Howe volunteered for the Union army today.” George took a swig from his ever present flask.

  “Daniel Hanson volunteered for the Confederacy.” James Miller lit a cigar, not giving away his thoughts on that turn of events.

  “What are you going to do?” George
clapped Sam’s shoulder.

  “Me?” Why did he have to do anything? He wasn’t interested in war. He didn’t particularly care if Maryland was part of the United States or part of the Confederate states. That was something for the assembly, his father included, to decide. But he wasn’t a naïve boy either. He would have to pick a side.

  There was no winning in this situation.

  “I’m going to get married.” He still held his wine glass, and he raised it as if in a toast and took a sip.

  The other men laughed. “You think that gets you out of anything?”

  “I know it doesn’t.” He drained the wine in his glass.

  “You own slaves.” George waved James’ cigar smoke away from his face. “We all do. We side with the Union we lose everything.”

  Slavery was not illegal in Maryland like it was in the states to the north. Bonne Terra, like every other big plantation in the area, used slaves to work the fields and to serve in the home. People from up north where there were mainly small, family farms didn’t understand the economics of the situation. It wasn’t as simple as saying ‘make all the slaves free.’ Maybe if Maryland joined with the Union there would be a way to see that the slaves were free and their farms didn’t collapse into ruin around them.

  It was not an easy decision.

  But one he would be expected to make soon. Not now though. This was a party, a party to celebrate his upcoming wedding. Why ruin it with talk of politics?

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He grabbed George’s flask and took a swig before returning it to him. “Tonight, I’m going to do nothing except enjoy the ball.”

  James slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “That’s the way of it, Sam. You enjoy that pretty girl you got in there. You’re a lucky man.”

  For a moment he envisioned Anna with her dark hair and shining eyes. He didn’t feel particularly lucky.

  The quartet started warming up for the next set.

  “You better retrieve Miss Johnson from the supper room.” George tucked his flask into an inside pocket of his dinner jacket. “You wouldn’t want her to think you abandoned her the moment your engagement was announced.”

  “Right, that can wait until you enlist with one of the armies.” James took a deep puff of his cigar and exhaled slowly.

  That was not a prospect he looked forward to, but it did sit, rather ominously, on the horizon.

  He allowed himself to simply have a good time for the rest of the night.

  After the next set of dances, Dinah complained of being hot, so he escorted her out to the veranda.

  “What a lovely full moon.” She gazed up at it, an enchanting smile lighting up her heart-shaped face.

  “Yes.” He wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulder. “But its loveliness does not compare to you.”

  She giggled. “Sam, you darling. Such a poet! I’m so glad you finally agreed we should be married. I promise to make you very happy.”

  His heart softened to her even more. She wasn’t Anna, she never could be Anna, but then no one could. She wanted to make him happy, and he would promise her the same. In time he might even love her.

  The final dance set of the night began. He and Dinah had both promised all but the last dance to others. By the time he led her to the dance floor, many of the invited guests had left, since it was well after midnight.

  “I feel positively decadent, staying out this late,” Dinah said as they circled the floor to the farewell waltz.

  “Your mother and father look like they wish to have already left.” He nodded his head toward the older couple, top hat and shawl already in place, waiting by the door.

  Dinah laughed. Her laugh reminded him, pleasantly, of the waterfall on the plantation. “Mother and father are too happy to have me settled. They won’t care about a late night.”

  His own parents would feel much the same way when they were able to announce Elizabeth’s betrothal.

  The dance ended. The musicians, all negroes who most often worked as footmen, put away their instruments. Sam found Dinah’s cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  Goodbyes were said, and the last of their guests climbed in their carriages and rode away.

  “Up to bed with you, Elizabeth. It is way past your bedtime.” Their mother pulled a shawl tighter around her own shoulders, her eyes dark with exhaustion.

  “I’m nineteen, Mother, much too old to have a bedtime.” She yawned, ruining the effectiveness of her protest.

  “I’ll escort the ladies upstairs,” his father said, already taking his wife’s arm in his own. “Meet me in the study, and we’ll have a drink before retiring.”

  Despite the fact that he’d be more than happy to head to bed himself, he went into the study. He lit the candles in the sconces on the wall and the lamp on the desk. His desk now. He had a hard time getting used to all of this being his. It was especially difficult when his parents were here, instead of at their house in Frederick.

  He went to the decanter on the sideboard and poured a splash of whiskey for himself and one for his father. Then he gazed out the window at the full moon until he heard his father’s footfall behind him.

  “There’s something about a full moon that is almost mystical,” his father said.

  “Makes you believe in all those old fairy tales.” He walked to the sideboard and handed his father one of the glasses of whiskey. They settled into the wingback chairs. “How are things in Frederick?”

  His father waved the question away. “Plenty of arguing, no real solutions. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  He knew what was coming. “I suppose you want to tell me again how glad you are that I am finally settling down and getting married.”

  His father took a sip of whiskey and smiled. “While all that is true, no, that wasn’t my main concern right now either.”

  Sam rubbed his stubble-sprouted chin. “So, you think there will be war, then?” It was the only topic left.

  “War has been declared by both sides.” His father leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “No one is going to back down. Yes, there will be war.”

  “Maryland will stay Union?” He wasn’t sure how much this was a question or simply wanting confirmation of what he already suspected.

  “That is the way things are going.”

  “And you want to know what I am going to do?” He wished he had an answer for him.

  “I do.”

  Sam took another sip of his whiskey. He’d like to drain the whole glass. He looked around the study, the hub of the plantation, his legacy. He could go to war and support the south, against his own state, in the hopes of everything returning to normal when he was done. He could go to war and support the Union, and if that side won, what would be left of the plantation when he was done? How would he run it? For certainly he wouldn’t be using slaves. And then there was the aspect that he’d rather not own people. The more he thought about it, the more repulsed he was by the idea, but he hadn’t figured out any viable alternative. There was one more thing to consider. If he went off to war, there was no guarantee he’d be coming back, and he now had to be concerned with Dinah and her future as well.

  “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I really don’t.”

  “If things progress as I expect they will. Eventually you’ll be expected to join up.”

  He didn’t doubt it.

  “You might be able to send someone in your place. Tobias, for instance.”

  His shoulders tensed. He wasn’t a coward, but he didn’t relish the idea of going to war. He wouldn’t mind finding a way to avoid going, but to send someone in his place, a slave who had no choice, no, that he couldn’t do. He had another sip of the whiskey. It burned going down, but it was a good burn.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You could,” his father said. “It would be perfectly legal and perfectly acceptable.”

  “Not to me,” he answered, a
little harsher than he’d intended.

  His father drained his glass.

  “You don’t have to worry about running this place. I’ll manage it while you are gone, if it comes to that.”

  “And Dinah?”

  His father grinned. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to manage her.” He got serious. “We’ll look after her as well. That is, if you decide to get married before you join up. You may want to wait.”

  “Do you think things will happen that quickly?”

  “Things are already happening quickly, son.”

  “This isn’t the future I pictured myself preparing for.” Sam stared out the window at the mystical full moon. “By now Anna and I should have had a couple of children. I should be worrying about ways to improve Bonne Terra, not going to war to defend it.”

  “Life often doesn’t turn out the way we expect, but things have a way of working out.”

  “What should I do?” He was a grown man. He shouldn’t have to ask his father for advice, but his thoughts were a swirl of contradictions. He was lucky enough to still have his father around. There was no harm in taking advantage of whatever wisdom the old man had to offer.

  “You can’t remain neutral.” His father ran his finger around the rim of his now empty glass.

  “I know that.” His voice came out like more of a growl than he’d intended.

  “Maryland is going to side with the Union,” his father continued. “If you side with the confederacy, and the Union wins, you lose everything. There is little hope you’d be pardoned; you’d be considered a traitor. You would lose Bonne Terra.”

  That did not even bear thinking about.

  “If you side with the Union and the Confederacy manages to break away, you will not be a traitor, you will still be in your own home state, having fought on her side. I don’t see how you could do otherwise.”

  All his thoughts, swirling as they may have been, had led him to that same conclusion.