Читать книгу Counterfeit Courtship - Christina Miller - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Graham’s fists clenched at his sides as his memories of this man brought out every fight instinct he’d developed during four years at war. Of all the men he would have expected to die of sheer cowardice on the battlefield, Leonard Fitzwald would have topped the list.

“I trust you received my letter,” Fitzwald said, his wheezy voice sounding like an eighty-year-old man’s.

This weasel had dared to communicate with Ellie? The thought ignited a searing flame deep in Graham’s gut. Fitzwald had no right to correspond with any decent woman. “Why did you send Miss Anderson a letter?”

Fitzwald took a half step back and ran his finger over the edge of the eye patch. “Business. With the potential of a social visit afterward.”

“You’re mistaken, Fitzwald. You’re not visiting Miss Anderson, and you’re going to do your business now, in front of me.” He looked the man over. The Confederate uniform on his back did nothing to make him look like a soldier. “And no more letters.”

“Graham!”

He was aware of Ellie’s high-pitched voice, but all he could see in his mind was Leonard Fitzwald calling on Ellie in the months before Graham laid his heart at her feet. “I know things about this man that you don’t know, Ellie. You have to trust me.”

“Colonel, let it go.” The weasel turned to her. “I’ll call at your house Friday at eight, as planned.”

“Stay away from her, Fitzwald. I haven’t forgotten how to fight.”

Ellie wouldn’t know he wasn’t talking about the war. Her gaze snapped from Graham to Fitzwald and back again, her mouth open as if she didn’t know what to say or whom to say it to.

But Fitzwald remembered the incident Graham referred to. He could see it in the man’s weasel eye.

“Tell me your business now, Leonard,” Ellie said, her voice quivering a bit. “Graham is an old friend, and you can trust him with whatever you have to say.”

“Fine way to treat a veteran.”

He had to be joking. “You’re no veteran. You’re a coward—at home and at war. I know what you did at Antietam.” So did every Confederate from colonel on up. The story had spread fast—how Fitzwald had crumpled on the battlefield, whimpering like a baby crying for its mama. Even Betsy didn’t act that way. Only Fitzwald’s father’s money and political influence had gotten him a desk job instead of the firing squad.

“Let him speak his mind,” Ellie whispered, still the peacemaker.

Graham let out his breath with a low growl. He crossed his arms in front of himself and waited.

The weasel drew himself up to his full height. “I’ve inherited my father’s property and investments. Ellie, your uncle—”

“Call her Miss Anderson.”

Fitzwald glared at him as if he was a Yankee. “Ellie’s uncle owed my father thirty thousand dollars. The loan comes due two weeks from today.”

“Two weeks?” Ellie’s voice turned shrill. “That’s not true. Uncle Amos was careful to set the due date a month after harvest. And he owes fifteen thousand, not thirty.”

“That was before he took out a second loan and attached it to the first. If you doubt my word, I can arrange a meeting with my lawyer.”

Graham had had enough of this. “Fitzwald, it’s time for you to go home.”

“My attorney will come with me on Friday.”

As the weasel retreated into the darkness beyond the gas lamps, Graham sat down again and motioned for Ellie to join him. The bench that had seemed inviting and comfortable minutes ago now felt rigid under his still-tense body. He took a few deep breaths in hopes of calming his jangling nerves and slowing his heartbeat.

Ellie eased onto the bench beside him, keeping as much distance as her hoops allowed. “Why are men as hateful as Robert Fitzwald allowed to have children?”

“I’ve wondered that for years.” After Fitzwald’s shocking news, it probably would have been appropriate to comfort her in some way. But wouldn’t that add to the awkwardness already surrounding them every time they were together? He scooted a little closer to the end of the wrought iron bench and away from her, but that felt strange too, so he reached over and patted her hand. But that only made his discomfort worse. He’d better just talk and not touch. “Noreen told me about your uncle’s illness. I was sorry to hear about it, but now I’m even sorrier. You shouldn’t have to deal with Fitzwald’s buffoonery.”

“It’s part of doing business. But I’d be glad to hand this over to Uncle Amos if he was able.” She glanced to the right and the left, and then she leaned toward him. “He had a stroke of apoplexy when he heard Lee surrendered to Grant. He refuses to get out of his bed. I think he could, with help, but he’s so melancholy, all he wants to do is lie there.”

That news was the biggest surprise he’d had since coming home. Seeing her downcast eyes and the way she bit her lower lip, he thought it might be best to change the subject. Courtship was one thing, but he had no idea how to deal with a crying woman. “Do you think there’s any truth to Fitzwald’s story?”

“None at all.”

“Good. Then he’ll have no reason to continue bothering us.”

He had barely rested his hand back on his thigh when the sound of chattering females once again assaulted his ears. What now? He turned toward the offensive noise. The full moon revealed a bevy of hoopskirts and curls flouncing down the stone steps toward them. He wasn’t sure, but they may have added a girl or two to the original pack.

He stood as dark-haired Susanna led the girls to the bench, although he would rather have hidden behind the giant live oak to their left.

“Colonel Talbot, Miss Ophelia requests your presence in the ballroom.” Susanna eyed them in the moon’s shadowy light. “I won’t apologize for intruding, because it doesn’t look as if we interrupted much of anything.”

She was probably right. Ellie had kept a rigid distance from him and, other than the moment he’d made his friendship-only promise to her, he’d done the same. Anyone watching would have thought they were cousins or siblings, not a courting couple.

This charade wasn’t going to work—not with Susanna around.

Ellie rose with as much dignity as he’d once seen in Mary Custis Lee. “Please tell Miss Ophelia that we will be in momentarily.”

Susanna stood speechless for a moment, which was almost as much of a surprise as Ellie’s sudden poise. The silence didn’t last long, though. “You’d better do as she says.”

Graham rested his hand on the waist of his “intended.” “As Ellie said, we’ll be along. Please give us a moment alone.”

“If you’re brave enough to defy Miss Ophelia, that’s your business. And I still say this is the most peculiar courtship I’ve ever seen.” The leader of the gang glared at Ellie for a moment and then stalked away, her troops following her as always. Apparently, his colonel voice worked better on Susanna than it did on Ellie.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Graham leaned in close to whisper. “I’m sorry you have to endure this party after receiving such upsetting news from Fitzwald. Would you like me to take you home?”

“No, because I don’t think he’s telling the truth. I’m not going to give this any more serious thought until I’ve had time to find out. And I won’t run out on Miss Ophelia now that we’re here.” Ellie began to pace the path in front of the bench as if in deep thought. Finally she stopped and faced him. “But one thing we have to think about is our arrangement. Susanna could make a lot of trouble, so we have to be more careful. Even when we think nobody’s around, people could be watching us.”

“That’s another reason I didn’t want to fabricate a courtship.”

“We can do it. We have to. If we stop now, neither of us will be able to turn around without enduring a marriage proposal.”

He had to laugh. “You’re the only one who has to worry about that.”

“Don’t be too sure Susanna Martin won’t try to make you propose.”

The thought turned his insides cold. Ellie was right.

“Here’s what we’ll do...”

The chill in his gut now turned to fire. How did this woman manage to keep him in such turmoil? Was this what life was going to be from now on?

No, it was not. She’d helped him out of a jam, that much was true, but it didn’t mean she could control him. He’d been a colonel in the Confederate army, commanding thousands of men, and no woman was going to give him orders.

Especially this woman...

“Whatever your new idea is, you can forget it. I’ll think of something.”

She smiled that smile that used to keep him awake at night—sweet, effortless, with a hint of amusement, as if she was going to let him talk his own neck into a noose. “That’s fine, Graham. What do you want to do?”

“Easy. We’re going to stop this nonsense.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“We’ll go into that ballroom and...” And what? Announce that they weren’t courting after all? While that seemed like a good solution, common sense told him it would make a laughingstock of Ellie. He studied her eyes in the moonlight—clear, unselfish, innocent eyes. Eyes that had kept watch over him in childhood and still looked after him today. Eyes that saw right through him to the man he was inside. Could he do that to her, offend her this way? No Southern gentleman would treat a woman in such a fashion. He looked over her head, to the east, toward Ashland Place.

“What’s your plan?” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.

Ellie took his arm and snuggled against him in a most convincing manner. “To go into the ballroom like a couple in love and let Miss Ophelia draw her own conclusions. She probably wants to honor your service to the Glorious Confederacy, so let her do that. Then just act natural and she’ll spread the word that we’re courting. But you have to make it look more realistic than you are now, or nobody older than little Betsy will believe it.”

At once he realized they’d been ambling back up to the gallery. “Courting doesn’t come naturally to me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Nobody here knows that. Just do as I do.”

Now how in blue blazes did Ellie know how to act “in love”? She’d never treated him like that, and according to Noreen this afternoon, she’d not courted with anyone in all the years he’d been gone.

But as they climbed the steps to the gallery and the gaslight there shone on her face, he saw that she did, indeed, know how to look that way. Those big blue eyes of hers, gazing at him like liquid love—he cleared his throat and swallowed hard to get rid of the lump that somehow formed there.

“That’s it!” Her lowered voice brightened with enthusiasm as they stepped through the window. “Now you look the part.”

Somehow, that didn’t make Graham feel any better. Pretending to be in love with the girl who had once ripped out his heart and then stepped on it—he couldn’t go along with it. “Ellie, we have to talk about this. I can’t— I won’t—”

Ellie’s adoring look vanished for an instant as something like an ache etched itself between her eyes.

She must have thought he found something distasteful about her.

How far from the truth that was. What Southern gentleman went about hurting women that way? And why did this whole situation have to be so complicated?

Holding in the groan that wanted to escape from his gut, Graham clenched his jaw and stepped aside to allow her to enter his aunt’s home. If Ellie and Susanna were right, their friends had many more events planned for him in the near future, and he had to learn to deal with that. He’d give it some thought when he was alone.

If he ever made it out of this house and away from this party.

* * *

Graham wanted to talk about the courtship ruse? Ellie was thinking the exact same thing. It wasn’t going to work unless he agreed to it with his whole heart.

The poor man. Ellie released his slightly trembling arm and stepped through the jib window and into Miss Ophelia’s home. He hadn’t seemed this uncomfortable even at their first “grown-up” party at Susanna’s house years ago. What could frighten this war hero so much—the party itself or the thought of an imaginary courtship with her?

“Colonel Talbot!” Miss Ophelia called in her exaggerated, singsong voice. She sailed across the vaulted-ceilinged ballroom toward them, wearing more yellow ruffles and bows and longer ringlets of red hair than even the debutantes had. Of course, Ellie would never have expected Miss Ophelia to wear mourning clothes for more than six months. And, being Ophelia Prescott Talbot Adams, she got away with it in Natchez.

When she reached Graham’s side, she enveloped him in a hug only a woman who had been like another mother to him could give. “You look stunning in that uniform, Colonel.”

Miss Ophelia’s matronly embrace brought a look of relief to Graham’s eyes, clearly comforting him more than Ellie would have thought possible. When his aunt finally released him, he gave her a peck of a kiss on the cheek. “If you call me Colonel again, I’m going to march right out of here and take all these troops with me.”

“Only in public, Graham,” she said, blinking her long eyelashes as if trying to keep from shedding a tear. “I’m too proud of you to pass up any opportunity to boast about you.” Then she gestured for the orchestra to stop, and she pulled both Graham and Ellie to the front of the room.

“The whole town has been waiting for this day.” Miss Ophelia raised her voice and commanded the room’s attention. “My nephew, Colonel Graham Prescott Talbot, war hero and defender of the great Confederate States of America under the celebrated General Robert E. Lee, has returned to us at last.”

True to form, Miss Ophelia led the crowd in genteel applause. As she’d requested, Graham wore his freshened uniform and polished boots, and Ellie noticed at least a dozen other former soldiers in cadet gray as well. They all carried the hardships of war in their faces, as Graham did, no doubt having seen and endured things they’d never be able to forget. But what about their futures? Were these men’s days to come as uncertain as Graham’s, their prospects as dreary, their responsibilities as heavy? Were their burdens as great as his: no occupation, no potential for marriage and family in the near future, no means to support the stepmother and baby in his care—

And a counterfeit courtship with Ellie, who had once laughed at his proposal?

At once, she understood his discomfort with the courtship arrangement she’d suggested.

Miss Ophelia’s pointed stare snatched Ellie from her thoughts, and she realized the room had gone silent. She nudged Graham in the side. “They’re waiting for you to speak.”

He cleared his throat as if summoning his colonel attitude. “Thank you, Aunt Ophelia, for the kind words. It’s good to get home to Natchez, where the Spanish moss sways in the breeze, the catfish wait for us in the Mississippi River, the grits are always hot and the punch cold. I pray none of us will ever leave her again.”

The men murmured their agreement, and Graham paused a moment. “As I told my troops in my mustering-out speech only months ago, ‘May we all discharge the obligations of good and peaceful citizens at home as well as we have performed the duties of thorough soldiers in the field.’ Always take comfort in the knowledge that, although we lost the war, your courageous men in gray did perform their duties well.”

Miss Ophelia began another long round of applause, seemingly understanding his discomfort and distracting the crowd from the huskiness of his voice and the pain in his eyes. He turned aside for a moment, but his mouth quirked a bit as if he were trying for a more cheerful expression.

“That was a beautiful speech,” Ellie said, sensing his pain. “It must have been hard, saying goodbye to the men who served under you for four years.”

“I worry about them, how they’ll fare now, what will happen to them.” He swallowed hard as if pushing back his tears.

This man had been through enough, even without her courtship idea. “We could go home now, if you like.”

“No, Noreen was right. Aunt Ophelia spared no expense for this party, from the roast beef and smoked ham on biscuits to the pecan and sweet potato pies,” he whispered to Ellie. “If nothing else, I need to show her some appreciation. Even though all I want right now is to get home and have some quiet time to rest and think—”

“Colonel Talbot, I haven’t danced with you all evening.” Like a machete through a cotton stalk, Susanna’s shrill voice cut through the murmur of the crowd as she drew near Graham. “We have much to talk about after your long absence.”

Six other neighborhood girls gathered in a semicircle behind their leader as if waiting in line for their turn to snatch up the handsome soldier.

Miss Ophelia’s gray-green eyes, a mirror image of Graham’s, turned a shade darker as always when she disapproved of the way someone treated her only nephew. “Let’s all dance to ‘Aura Lea’ again, in honor of Colonel Talbot’s own maid with hair as golden as Aura Lea’s. Graham, Ellie, please start this dance.”

“Dance? In front of all these people?” Graham’s low voice sounded less like a colonel’s than Miss Ophelia’s had. “Aunt Ophelia, I’ve lived the military life for eight years, with no frivolity to speak of. Not tonight—”

“We’d love to.” Ellie could hear the hint of challenge in her own voice.

“Ellie, you’ve gone too far.”

The poor man. He’d commanded the entire room’s attention with his wonderful speech, looked like the beau of Natchez in his uniform and had the bearing of a warrior. Yet the prospect of a dance clearly frightened him more than a line of cannons.

And it was up to Ellie to put him at his ease.

She swayed toward him and lifted her hand, then let it rest on his shoulder as she gave a tiny nod to her right.

He looked in the direction she indicated. Susanna stood a mere three yards from them, a knowing smile on her face.

Ellie knew Graham hated this charade and, in a way, so did she, but letting Susanna destroy it seemed even worse. He took Ellie’s other hand and stepped out with one foot, sweat dripping down his brow as if the room was lit with blazing fires instead of mere crystal gasoliers.

Ellie moved with him. Seeing that he had forgotten even the most basic steps, she guided him with a gentle touch on his shoulder, pressing this way and that to help him remember which way to step. “Act as if you know what you’re doing, and nobody will know the difference.”

His grip on her relaxed a fraction. “At least other people are dancing now too.”

“Including Susanna. Miss Ophelia and I saved you from her, you know.”

“Not to mention the rest of her mob.” Graham executed a graceful turn, and Ellie smiled her approval. “How many more parties did you say I have to endure?”

“Plenty. And all those girls will be at every one of them.” Not to mention dozens of former soldiers. She lowered her voice. “That’s why we both need our arrangement.”

He wrinkled his nose as if Sugar had trotted right by him, soaking wet. “I’m still not convinced about that.”

Ellie was, and not only because Susanna and her friends seemed ready to pounce on Graham, waiting for the moment Ellie would leave his arms. And not because of all her would-be suitors, either. From Graham’s more natural steps and more relaxed hold on her, she knew she was helping him through more than a mere awkward moment. No, he needed her. And since she had caused many of the problems he now faced, she would help him all she could. That was what friends did.

For that reason alone, Ellie smiled her sweetest at him as she came into Susanna’s line of sight, her mind grasping for a new plan that would solidify this faux courtship.