The Lady and the Officer (45 page)

“Oh, I have lots of space. Few folks are traveling these days. At least none with money to spend. I expect you and Mrs. Howard would like dinner tonight.”

“Yes, ma'am. Now, if you would be kind enough—”

“How about a nice pot roast with boiled peas served by the fire?”

“Fine. I honestly don't care if it's horsemeat with pickled turnips! May I
please
see Mrs. Howard?”

Mrs. Lang lifted her chin indignantly. “No call to get all prickly, sir.
I'll fetch her to the parlor.” Stomping up the steps, she left him standing in the open doorway.

James walked into the parlor, where dust motes floated in the slanted light from the west windows. He had thought about their February dinner so many times that he had memorized every detail of the room. After a few minutes he heard a clatter of feet on the steps. Then the love of his life burst through the doorway. A thin ribbon held back her long blond curls, while being away from the city had turned her complexion into a mass of freckles. The sunny glow of her flushed face intensified her blue irises. Her beauty caused his mouth to go dry and his blood to quicken in his veins.

“Is it really you?” she gasped, breathless. “I can't believe you're here! We heard rumors in town, but no one could verify if they're true.”

When Madeline crossed the room to throw herself in his arms, James forgot his rehearsed speech, his promises of unending devotion. They held each other closely, silently, until he drew her to arm's length. “It's true. The war is over. General Lee surrendered his army in Appomattox Courthouse yesterday. I have tonight and tomorrow morning here in Culpeper.”

Madeline stepped back from his embrace. “If the war is over, why on earth must you go back?”

“I must properly muster-out my corps or they won't receive the back pay they are due. And we need to prepare parole papers for the surrendering Confederates. If they promise to never again bear arms against the Union, they won't be imprisoned. I will face the wrath of General Grant if I'm not on the train tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then why have you come?” Madeline crossed her arms with more indignation than the innkeeper. “You simply craved a pleasant jaunt through the countryside?”

His confidence slipped a notch. “I have important business here tomorrow morning—an urgent errand that won't wait. And I would like to have dinner with you tonight.”

She perched her hands on her hips. “And what about right now, General Downing? Do you have something in mind for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Well… yes. Because we have no horses for a springtime ride, I thought
a walk along the streets of Culpeper would be nice. Unless, of course, you have other plans.”

She laughed despite her irritation. “Most assuredly, I do not. I'll just get my shawl.”

A few minutes later she appeared on the porch wrapped in lace. “Do you have some place special in mind, or shall we walk aimlessly until our legs give out?” Linking her arm through his, she turned her face up to him.

“Anywhere, as long as the innkeeper isn't lurking behind the door. She was listening to our entire conversation in the parlor.”

Madeline laughed again. “Unfortunately, I'm no stranger to eavesdropping. Ever since you sent that pouch of gold, Mrs. Lang has been fascinated by you. Nobody in Culpeper has seen that kind of money in ages.”

“I'm eager to be frivolous. For four long years, I had few places to spend my army pay.”

“Thank you for my accommodations and the lovely clothes, although the new shoes do pinch my toes a bit.” She lifted one high-laced boot from beneath her skirt. “Didn't you wish to see me in the same two worn-out dresses? Mrs. Lang probably assumes the worst about my reputation.”

“I care little about what you wear, Madeline, and even less about what Mrs. Lang thinks. Soon we'll never see that annoying woman again.”

She stopped short on the sidewalk. “Why are you limping? Did you hurt your leg as well as your shoulder? You didn't have a limp a week ago.”

“Nothing to worry about… a minor leg wound that has healed up nicely.” His snaked his good arm around her waist.

She turned her gaze skyward, where tree branches were filled with fragrant apple blossoms. “You were shot twice? I must say, my secret gift didn't live up to its reputation.”

“Are you referring to this?” James withdrew the chain from beneath his shirt collar. The silver medallion discovered in the wooded glade months ago dangled from the end.

“Yes, the Saint Christopher medal. You found where I'd hidden it in your pocket?”

“I did. But you should examine it closely before pronouncing it unworthy.”

Turning the medallion over between her fingers, Madeline found a smooth, dime-sized indention in the silver. “What on earth… ”

“That medal stopped a bullet on its way to my heart. Although it was supposed to protect you, I'm grateful for your gift.”

“You were shot
three
times?” Her jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Indeed, I should be set for life.” On impulse, he lifted her chin and kissed her.

“That would be my fondest hope too,” she said, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Shall we walk? I want to hear about Major Henry's deathbed confession. And I have much to tell you about my dear cousin. Only Eugenia can plan a wedding in the midst of chaos.”

For several hours they simply sauntered up one lane and down the next, never running out of things to say. They had two years' worth—or perhaps a lifetime—of tales to share. When Madeline's limp from her new shoes became as pronounced as his, they walked back to the inn.

“Ah, General Downing, I was wonderin' when you would be back.” Mrs. Lang swept open the door before they reached the front steps. “I just set the kettle of stew on the parlor table. Didn't want it scorchin' on the stove too long. Cold is better than burnt any day.”

James and Madeline sidled through the doorway, where the woman practically blocked their passage. “Thank you, Mrs. Lang. I'm sure the food will be delicious,” he said graciously.

“I also put a pan of cornbread on the table, along with fresh butter. Don't have no fancy wine for your reunion, just well water. Nobody in town has spirits, except Mr. Mosley, and you don't want to drink his plum wine.” She offered them an unpleasant expression.

“Water will be perfect. Thank you again, ma'am.” James led Madeline to the parlor hearth, where a warm fire blazed. A jelly jar of violets sat on a table covered with starched white linen, a charming effect despite the mismatched china.

Unfortunately, their innkeeper followed them into the room. “I wanted to go over details for tomorrow, sir. Should I—”

James cut her off with a low voice. “Nothing has changed since I sent my written instructions. If you would follow them exactly and not
interrupt us again tonight, I will double the fee for your services.” He struggled to keep his temper.

“Fine, sir. If you wanted privacy with your lady friend, why didn't you just say so?” Mrs. Lang stalked from the room, sliding the pocket doors closed behind her.

Once they were blissfully alone, Madeline burst out laughing. “All you had to do was say so, James. I'm not sure why you can't express yourself.” She fluffed her napkin over her lap and pulled off the lid to the kettle. The rich aroma of beef, onion, celery, and carrots filled the air and whetted their appetites.

“I have better luck getting soldiers to do my bidding. I have little familiarity with all of this.” The tightness in his stomach had nothing to do with hunger.

Her face sobered. “Do you mean no familiarity with courting or with a world not at war?”

“Either. Both, if the truth be told.” James sat clumsily on a chair too small for his size.

“Try not to fret, General. Let's eat Mrs. Lang's stew and not worry about the rest of our lives.”

And so they ate two helpings each and then swabbed up the gravy with the last piece of cornbread. Although the inn's cuisine was far from gourmet, James couldn't remember a more enjoyable meal. They talked and laughed until the fire turned to cold ashes on the hearth. Yet neither wanted the evening to end.

When the mantle clock chimed eleven, Madeline pushed back her chair. “I should let you get some sleep, James,” she said. “It sounds as though you have an important errand tomorrow.”

“Yes, very important indeed, my dear.” He studied her profile in the candlelight as though he hadn't been looking at her all evening.

“You're not going to tell me, are you?” She slanted a peevish gaze at him.

He refused to be baited. “It's a personal matter of the utmost urgency.”

She rose regally to her feet and dropped her napkin on the table. “In that case, as punishment for secrecy you will get no good night kiss. Put
that in your pipe and smoke it.” She strode from the room with only a hint of a dimple betraying her amusement.

“Mrs. Howard… ”

The innkeeper's voice finally penetrated her dream. Madeline bolted upright. The woman stood at the foot of her bed, holding a pale green dress she'd never seen before.

“What is it, Mrs. Lang? Is the house on fire?” She clutched the quilt beneath her chin.

“No, no. General Downing said he would like you to accompany him on a very important errand.” Mrs. Lang draped the beautiful dress across a chair and then boldly pulled undergarments from her guest's bureau drawer.

“Has he indeed? And where exactly would that be?” Madeline asked, not budging from the warm, comfortable bed.

Mrs. Lang, however, wasn't one to stand on proper decorum. With a single yank she pulled the covers from the bed, leaving Madeline shivering in her thin chemise. “You'll have to ask him yourself. He's downstairs with a carriage waiting on the street. I filled you a tub in the bath down the hall. I suggest you hurry, and wear that dress there. The general ordered it special.”

“I already told you I have no need of fancy gowns. I'll soon return to my farm and—” Her explanation hung unfinished in the air because the exasperating woman had already headed downstairs. Madeline had little choice but do as she was told.

She should be annoyed by James's bossy presumptuousness. She should stand her ground and assert independence before finding herself in a compromising situation. Yet something suggested patience. A small voice whispered that all would be well because she loved him and he loved her.

So Madeline bathed, brushed out her hair, and dressed in the beautiful gown that fit surprisingly well. Then she descended the steps to find her landlady gone and the general lounging on the porch.

“Ah, you're ready at last. Shall we be off?” James offered an arm.

“Very well, but I'm curious regarding your mysterious plans.” She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

“The sun is shining and birds are singing. I thought we could take a ride on this lovely April day.”

Swallowing back her retort, Madeline took several deep breaths. Inside the carriage she began to relax when they reached the edge of town. The air smelled clean and fresh, and the spring sun was warm on her skin. Just for a moment, she imagined she was home in Pennsylvania. When she opened her eyes, they had stopped in front of a small white church. Without stained glass windows and a soaring bell tower, it was no great cathedral like St. Paul's, yet it possessed its own beauty. “Is
this
one of your errands? Are you acquainted with this church?”

“No, I've never been here before, but why don't we go inside?” He jumped down and extended his hand.

Madeline's heart quickened, while a frisson of anxiety snaked up her spine. “What are you up to, James? Why have we come here?”

“To get married, of course. I can't take you back to headquarters and then on to Washington for the Grand Review unless we are properly wed. How would it look?” He lifted a massive bouquet of bluebells, trilliums, and purple hyacinths from behind the seat.

“Get married? In
Virginia
?” It sounded as though she were comparing the state to the deserts of Arabia. “I can't possibly marry you today.”