Honor Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Volume II) Page 11

  “Are you going to get down?” Hunter sounded impatient as he stood beside the wagon waiting to help her, but the pleased smile he wore showed his satisfaction with her reaction.

  Andrea smiled and stood, but continued to cast her gaze across the teeming hills in utter amazement. Sighing, Hunter reached up and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her out of the conveyance.

  “This is part of Hawthorne?” she asked, clasping his arm for support, as she walked over to a large rock and sat down.

  He nodded. “One of my favorite places.”

  Andrea stared around in wonderment, touching and smelling the flowers that surrounded her while Hunter washed his face and splashed water over his head. When he finished, he flung himself lazily upon the bank. “The water’s cold and clean if you want some.”

  Andrea stood, lifted her skirt, and hopped the short distance to the side of the stream, causing Hunter to look up at her piercingly. “I see you’ve taken my advice to wear shoes.”

  Andrea ignored his sarcasm as she raised the hemline even higher, and allowed the mud on the edge of the water to rise between her toes. “Ah, this is truly heaven.”

  Hunter shook his head and, with seemingly great effort, removed his gaze from her ankles to look her in the eyes. “Actually it is the next best thing—it’s Virginia.”

  Andrea grinned at his intended jibe and lowered herself onto the crevice of a nearby fallen tree. Leaning back, she stared at the sky, watching a hawk circle above them.

  “Daniel and I used to come here to fish, and always ended up doing just what you’re doing.”

  Andrea lowered her gaze and studied Hunter, trying to form the image of a daydreaming youth staring at the sky. She discarded the attempt almost immediately, but wondered how there could be a man with such dual and different natures—leading his men against inconceivable odds one day, discussing his childhood or quoting Shakespeare the next. What kind of person, she asked herself, could be occupied in the deliberate destruction of one’s country, while lounging before her and acting like a courteous and considerate gentleman?

  “You ready to go?” Hunter stood abruptly and spit out the blade of grass he’d been chewing. “There’s one more stop I want to make before we head back. It’s getting late.”

  Andrea found herself talking quite freely once the wagon began rolling, as she tried to identify the different varieties of birds and butterflies that flitted across their path. But when they crested another hill, she grew instantly silent.

  Directly in front of them hung the sun in an outrageous flaming sky of violent red and orange. This was apparently what Hunter had been in a hurry to show her—and his timing was perfect.

  “It appears close enough to touch,” Andrea whispered.

  When the horses stopped, she departed the wagon, and limped to the very crown of the hill. Leaning on her cane, she stared mesmerized at the fiery eye in the sky that seemed to hang in suspension right in front of them.

  “We better get a move on,” Hunter said after a few minutes of awed silence. “It’ll be dark soon.”

  Andrea discovered that Hunter was right about the darkness. Within minutes the view changed from sun and sky to moon and stars. Fireflies danced in the meadows on each side, adding to nature’s light display.

  “Are we close to home?” she asked when the shades of night closed down upon them.

  She saw Hunter’s grip tighten on the reins as if surprised to hear the word on her lips, but he didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t really need to. As if on cue the horses picked up their pace quite drastically and she had her answer.

  Andrea held onto the seat with immense delight as the horses fairly flew through the darkness. Hunter steered the careening wagon to the back of the house, and pulled the horses to a sudden and abrupt halt, causing Andrea to grab his arm this time to keep from being thrown.

  She looked up, bubbling over with amusement that he’d allowed the horses to dash at such a pace. But her smile froze when she met the look in the steel-gray eyes staring down at her. She’d never seen that look before. She couldn’t even name it. But it made her heart feel like a great ball of wax. Warm. Soft. Melting.

  “Truce?” Hunter’s voice was barely audible, though his face was only inches from hers.

  A long, breathless moment with no words ensued.

  “Massa?”

  They both jumped.

  “Sorry, Massa,” Zach said, “but Miz Victoria is waitin’ for you in de house.”

  Hunter cursed under his breath and hopped out of the wagon like it was on fire. “How long has she been here?” His voice was full of impatience as he took three steps at a time up the veranda without a backward glance toward Andrea.

  * * *

  It was not that Hunter was in a hurry to see Victoria, but he knew better than to keep her waiting. He followed the heavy scent of perfume to the parlor in the front of the house, where he found her powdering her face.

  “Oh, Alex!” She rushed over to him. “You’re here at last. Your insolent servants wouldn’t tell me where you were or when you’d return.” Victoria sniffled and laid her head on his chest. “You just wouldn’t believe what this awful war is doing to Richmond. I thought perhaps Cassie and I could stay with you for a while, until things settle down there.” She looked up with a flutter of eyelashes.

  Hunter glanced over at the young maid servant standing apprehensively in the corner. “Of course, Victoria,” he heard himself saying, though every nerve in his body told him it was a mistake. “I’ll have the guest room made up for you.”

  When he glanced out through the open parlor door, he saw Andrea in the hall making slow, painful progress toward the stairs. Her hair ran riot from the swift pace they’d taken, but when he cleared his throat to make introductions, she turned with the mien and beauty of a queen.

  “Miss Hamilton, I would like you to meet my. . .other houseguest, Andrea Evans. She’s staying here while she, ah, recuperates from an injury. Miss Evans, Miss Hamilton.”

  Silence hung in the elegant home, interrupted only by a palpable sensation of instant dislike on both sides of the parties being introduced. Victoria boldly examined Andrea from head to toe with a slow, unbelieving swoop of the eyes. “How very lovely to meet you,” she said, making it clear by her tone that it was not. Then she grabbed Hunter’s arm. “I’m sure Alex has told you all about us.” She looked at him with a knowing and intimate smile, then shifted her gaze to Andrea.

  Andrea looked blankly at Hunter. “I’m afraid he hasn’t had the time. But if you’ll pardon me, I’ll retire and allow you to get…reacquainted.” Nodding toward each but looking at neither, she turned and continued up the stairs as if relieved to be released from the conversation.

  Victoria fell back into Alex’s arms again. “Oh, it’s so-o-o good to see you’re all right. I was afraid you’d be out fighting. We have so much catching up to do.”

  “Actually, Victoria, I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time. I’ll be leaving at first light.”

  “Oh, no, Alex. You simply can’t leave me here alone with that…that stranger,” she whined. “Please stay.”

  Victoria cried and held onto him as if he intended to depart for many years and to a distant land, but Alex eased her away. “I’m sorry the war doesn’t run according to your schedule, Victoria.”

  “But is this an important mission? Can’t it be put off for one day or perhaps a week?”

  Hunter looked at her coldly. “They’re all important, Victoria. And no, it cannot.”

  “Oh, have you no other thought but serving your country?” she moaned with her face in her hands. Looking out between two fingers and apparently seeing her pouting had no effect on him, Victoria raised her head and smiled.

  “Well, we have tonight. We can do some catching up tonight.” She wore an open invitation on her face as she took one of his hands in both of hers and pressed it against her cheek.

  Chapter 23
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  When woman once to evil turns, all hell within her bosom burns.

  – English poet

  One week later

  A bright sun spurted its rays through a thin shaft of clouds as Hunter cantered across the bridge to Hawthorne. The warmth of the beams felt good on his back, like tender hands after a hard day’s work. Considering the violent storms he’d ridden through over the past week, the sun felt even more welcoming.

  But Hunter’s thoughts were not on the sunbeams. They were on the morning he’d left Hawthorne and the two houseguests he’d left behind.

  “Welcome home, Massa.” Zach grabbed Hunter’s bridle rein and waited for him to dismount.

  “Thanks, Zach,” he said wearily, dismounting and untying a saddlebag. “It’s good to be back.”

  Hunter didn’t hear the front door open, but he couldn’t miss the unearthly squeal that followed. “Oh, Alex, you’re ho-o-me!” He barely had time to brace himself for the assault that followed. Victoria ran down the steps, none too ladylike, and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, I missed you so!”

  “A man could get used to such a greeting, I suppose,” Hunter said, his tone sounding more annoyed than pleased.

  “Oh, darling,” Victoria whimpered, “it has been perfectly dreadful here without you. Why don’t you go change into some fresh clothes and then we can dine together, and then—”

  Hunter pried her arms away from his neck. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Victoria.” He turned his attention back to Zach. “See that she’s rubbed down and fed well. She covered a lot of ground this week.”

  Yes, suh. But, uh Massa…I has something to tell you.”

  Hunter held up his hand. “Not now, Zach. I’ll come down to the barn later. I’m sure it can wait.”

  “Yes, suh,” the slave answered dejectedly, leading the horse away. But he continued looking over his shoulder, a clear indication that perhaps it could not.

  “Victoria,” Hunter said, springing lightly up the steps. “Will you kindly find Mattie and tell her to draw a bath?”

  “Well, I can try, I suppose.” Victoria’s tone indicated she was perturbed. “Likely she is still waiting on your other houseguest hand and foot. Why, that girl stays abed all day. One would think she invented sleep by the way she loves to practice it.”

  Hunter half-laughed at the absurdity of the statement, but then stopped just outside the door and looked at her closely. “Miss Evans? In bed at this hour? Surely you jest.”

  “Laugh all you like,” Victoria snapped. “She closets herself away like a queen. And your servants seem to feel it necessary to treat her as such.”

  Hunter just shook his head as he made his way toward his library, leaving Victoria to search through the house for Mattie. He would have to commend Andrea for having interpreted Victoria’s dislike of her, and attempting to stay out of her way. Then again, that scenario did not add up. Miss Evans was not the type to go out of her way to avoid a fight.

  “You condescendin’ to take a bath, Massa?” Mattie asked from behind him.

  “Yes,” he said wearily, putting his saddlebag on his desk. “Right away.”

  He looked to the open door when he heard Victoria’s squealing voice upstairs. “Mattie! Mattie! Show yourself this instant!”

  “Why she yelling that?” Mattie asked irritably. “She gonna wake up—” She stopped herself and looked at Hunter. “The dead.”

  Hunter sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands when Mattie departed. Hawthorne was once a place where he retired to escape the turmoil of war. Now he was not sure which was more chaotic—his home or the battlefield. To help answer the query, the door flew open and a flurry of skirts bustled in. “I found your insolent servant and she’s heating your water,” Victoria reported.

  * * *

  After a bath and a few hours uninterrupted sleep—his first of both in days—Hunter crept back down the stairs toward his library, hoping to avoid Victoria. He therefore spoke in hushed tones to Mattie when he encountered her on the staircase carrying an armful of wood. “You’re building a fire on a beautiful evening like this?”

  “Miz Andrea has a chill,” Mattie said hesitantly, “from dat lazy ole wind the storm brought.”

  “Lazy wind?” Hunter stopped and looked at her.

  “Yezzah,” she said, continuing up the stairs as if she did not have time to stop. “Miz Andrea say it too lazy to go around, so it go drekly through.”

  Hunter watched the woman disappear and shook his head. His own household was becoming more remote and mysterious to him by the minute. Where was Miss Evans anyway?

  The remorse at having left so suddenly had weighed constantly on his mind during his absence. He hoped he could have a word with her in private before he departed again. Did she regret his leaving so suddenly, like he did? Or did anger and resentment keep her locked in her room? He sighed heavily. He did not have the time or the inclination to ponder the inner workings of a woman’s mind—especially one as erratic and unpredictable as Andrea Evans’.

  Hunter continued to his library to clear away some mounting paperwork. He was astonished when he heard the clock in the hall strike midnight some fleeting hours later—and even more surprised when the chimes were followed by a hesitant knock on the door. “Yes, enter,” he said somewhat sternly due to the lateness of the hour.

  “Massa?”

  Hunter glanced up to see who it was, and then looked back at his work. “Yes, Izzie, what is it?” He could tell she was nervous. Yet she always appeared like that to him.

  “Massa, I, umm…prominist I wouldn’t tell.” Izzie’s voice faded as she played with the folds of her dress.

  Hunter looked up again and his heart unexpectedly quickened. “Tell me what?”

  She cleared her throat. “U-m-m …Well you see…it be that…Miz Andrea—”

  “What about Miz Andrea?” Hunter stood and came around the desk to stand in front of her, apparently intimidating the girl even more.

  Izzie cleared her throat again. “I can’t prezactly say…since I prominist I’s wouldn’t tell.”

  No longer waiting for her to answer, Hunter ran up the stairs and pushed open Andrea’s chamber door, startling Mattie who leaned over the bed, and Zach, who stood at the footboard with his hat in his hand.

  As for the form on the bed, she gave no response to his sudden entrance. Beads of perspiration on her forehead showed she had a fever, and the raspy sound of her breathing indicated she had been ill for quite some time.

  “What have you done?” Hunter placed the back of his hand against her clammy, hot cheek. Her damp hair lay plastered to her skull.

  Izzie stood at the door wringing her hands. “She tol’ us not to tell.”

  “How long has she been like this?” Hunter looked up at the servants who all stared at the floor. “Did everybody in this household know of this but me?”

  “She tol’ us not to tell,” Izzie said again under her breath.

  Hunter turned his attention back to the bed. “Miss Evans, can you hear me?”

  Andrea’s eyes were open, but they were glassy and staring. Her face showed deep lines of exhaustion as she gazed fixedly up at him. “The foal,” she said weakly, trying to sit up. “Is…all right?”

  “The foal?” Hunter looked up with questioning eyes.

  “I try to tell you,” Zach said. “Dat mare Lightning went into labor during that storm the other night. You know how she hate storms. And the baby be breach. And Miz Andrea, she come down to help, and it was pawhing down rain. I din’t mean for it to happen, Massa.”

  Hunter let out his breath in helpless exasperation. Lightning was one of his best mares. He knew if Andrea had set her mind on saving the foal, no one alive could have stopped her.

  “I understand, Zach. Go fetch Doc at the Talberts.” Hunter looked at Andrea and then back at the servant worriedly. “And tell him to hurry.”

  Leaning over the bed again, Hunte
r put his hand on her burning forehead while she mumbled in her sleep. A racking cough, sounding like it might split her open, interrupted her meanderings. She faded into semi-consciousness then, though her lips still moved as if in conversation.

  Hunter turned and left the room. He didn’t like the way his hands felt shaky, or the force with which his heart banged in his chest…or his thoughts.

  She’d already survived one brush with death—but this time she knew what she was coming back to. And it did not take a prophet to predict that she may not think it worth the effort.

  Chapter 24

  Hold fast to dreams. For if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.

  – Langston Huges

  Hunter paced in his library, once again awaiting the doctor’s report. “Pneumonia?” he asked when the door opened.

  “In the name of all that is sacred, how could you allow her to go out in the middle of a storm?” Hobbs sat down and dabbed his brow with a handkerchief. “For heaven’s sake, Major, in her weakened condition.”

  “I wasn’t here. She was trying to save a foal of mine. Actually, she did save a foal of—” Hunter followed the doctor to the door. “But what do you think about her chances?”

  “I’m not sure.” Hobbs shook his head, not looking overly optimistic. “She surprised us all before. But I’m afraid she needs something I can’t give her this time.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The will to live.”

  Hunter closed his eyes. So Hobbs sensed it too, that vague, indescribable feeling that she no longer had the wish to fight. After showing Hobbs to the door, Hunter returned once again to her chamber.