Mistress of Greenbrier: The Greenbrier Trilogy, Book Two

Chapter Six-1

Chapter Six

Max strolled down the street, having left the ladies at the millinery shop in search of the perfect bonnet for traveling to Paris in. With the letters posted and the women engaged as they were, he was certain to have several hours of free time to himself. The sidewalk outside of The Palace Bar was more crowded than usual. A loud yell of celebration rose up from the masses.

“We’re out! We’ve joined the Confederacy!” were the first discernible words he could gather from the crowd. The shouts quickened his steps, “Long live Jeff Davis!” By the time he reached the opposite side of the street, Max had pulled from his pocket two pennies for the newspaper. He soon looked at his own copy, stunned. The doctor had warned him. A rider raced by, shooting his pistol high into the air. “We’re gonna kill us some Yankees, boys!”

There was no way he could hide this from Vivianne or Lucy. They, along with many others who had been inside the various shops up and down the street, now made their way out, looking up and down the thoroughfare to see what was going on. He was helpless to stop her when Vivianne reached out and grabbed the coat sleeve of the first man who passed her by. Her green eyes grew larger at the news. Lucy looked up and down the street until she saw Max sending him into a sprint towards her.

The terror in Lucy’s eyes was unmistakable, as if she could read his thoughts. “Fetch the doctor, Max,” she ordered.

“I should take you home first.”

She spun around, a flurry of pink fabric and black lace, “No. The wedding will be today. Go and fetch him and meet Miss Daniels and me at the church.”

“Lucy, you can’t be serious?!” Vivianne quickened her pace to keep up with Lucretia who was making a beeline towards Christ Church.

“I am quite serious,” the urgency in her voice startled them both. “Go and get him, Max. I order you.”

Bewildered, Max’s mouth gapped open. “Go and get him, Max,” Vivianne repeated. “We will let Beauregard sort this out.” she scurried after the receding figure of Lucy and left Max to his own devices.

Max had not gone three miles before meeting the very man he sought on the road heading into town. “What is it?” Beau drew his horse to a stop.

Max handed him the paper, “Miss Lucy, Sir. She’s insisting you are married today. She and Vivianne are waiting for you at the church.”

“Damn. I did not expect it so soon.” Beau ribbed the horse hard, “Meet me there.”

Finding the chapel empty, Beau went around to the back and knocked on the door. It was opened by an elderly woman who he recognized as Reverend Reed’s wife, “They’re in the registry office, doctor.” she led the way down a short hall.

Vivianne rushed to him as soon as he entered the room. “Talk some sense into her, darling. Please. She won’t listen to a word I say.”

Beau turned to the reverend’s wife. “Another gentleman will be arriving very soon. Please show him back here as well. His name is Max.” Lucy stood very stiff beside a desk, her head held high and her lips drawn so tight as to barely be visible. Beside her, the cleric looked frazzled and at a loss and before him, Vivianne demanded some sort of reasonable reply. “Is this what you want?” he directed to Lucy, not moving from the doorway. “To be wed in this flurry instead of the garden as we planned?”

“Tell her, Beauregard. Tell her how foolish this is.”

Beauregard brushed by Vivianne. He looked at Lucy long and hard, “I asked you a question. Is this the way you want it?”

Red blotches rose on her pale cheeks, “I want to be your wife.”

“There is time to do this as we planned,” he took her sternly by the arm.

“Is there?” Her eyes never wavered from his, “Is there, Beau?”

Drawing her further from the group, Beau’s face grew ever sterner. “Yes, there is. Stop this nonsense immediately.”

“I will stop my nonsense when you stop yours and tell me what is going on.”

He drew a step back from her, “Surely you don’t think I knew about what was in the paper before anyone else!”

Suddenly her face grew red and she burst into tears. Before Beau could stop her, Lucy rushed passed him and all the others, “Take me home to my mother, Max.”

“Beau?” Vivianne didn’t know in which direction to turn.

“Let her go, Vi. Max, take her to her mother’s.”

Each day the control grew more distant and unobtainable. It was like trying to hold water in his hands, fleeting and unstable. For two days now Lucy had been gone from the house. The air was tense and quiet. The only word from her had been a note the evening of the incident requesting Dinah be returned to her as well as some of her other personal things. Beau had relented. To the best of his knowledge the marriage was still to proceed. She had not told him otherwise at least. Without the marriage union and vows it entailed, he had little hope of doing what he so desperately needed to do. On the third day, when things seemed abysmal at best, a letter arrived which only put the doctor into an even darker mood.

Letter to Dr. B.W. Addams, Greenbrier Plantation, Winchester, Virginia

From Dr. Joseph Hall, Agent, Baltimore, Maryland

My dear colleague and friend,

Your recent letter has been received and I am pleased to inform you that your request for passage aboard our ship the Golden Star has been approved for the latter part of this month. As you know, our organization smiles upon such requests and the donation you enclosed was more than ample to provide not only passage for the four persons mentioned but will also aid our cause greatly. Please be sure to have all the proper paperwork in order upon arrival, this would include, of course, the papers liberating the two mentioned coloreds who will be traveling as well. We welcome you and yours with open arms and hearts and with the deepest feelings of brotherhood.

The Golden Star will be in port in Baltimore no later than the 2nd of May. Capt. Taylor is a fine man and looks forward to making the voyage with you.

Yours most obediently,

Dr. Joseph Hall

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and pressing the palms of both hands to his forehead. Had the true path of events been known to him before he may well not have volunteered his support. Now it was too late. The depth to which he was involved made it impossible to retract anything, with or without Lucy as his wife. “She must be mine,” he thought, drawing up his head at long last and looking at the shut and locked door.

There was a light tap on the door, drawing Beau back to his senses. “It’s Vi, darling. There’s a note from Lucy for you.” Reluctantly, he let her in. Vivianne handed over the neatly folded paper, “A boy is waiting for a reply to take back.”

The note contained but a single line. “Father has died. Please come.”

Mrs. Borgia sat at her husband’s bedside. To someone unknowing he looked merely as if he slept and would open his eyes at any moment to wish the visitor a good day. Lucy, fulfilling her duty as a loyal daughter, had placed herself on the opposite side of the bed as her mother. The shades were drawn down and the curtains pulled shut. When the door opened and Lucy looked up, she showed no signs of sadness. She merely rose and offered her place to the doctor. Beau declined and stood at the foot of the bed, hat in hand. “He was a good man,” he said. To his left the sounds of the widow’s weeping grew more intense. To his right, nothing. There was no mistaking the way Lucy’s jaw clenched as she held her tongue for the sake of her mother.

“You will take care of things, Dr. Addams?” Mrs. Borgia asked, wiping tears from her eyes. “Edward wanted you to take care of things, the way you do. He thought perhaps if someone of his social bearing was to use your services it would increase your business.”

On that Lucretia could no longer remain quiet, “Just like Father. Always thinking of money.”

Beauregard ignored her, “I shall take care of him, Mrs. Borgia, proudly. If I may be permitted to take custody of his remains this afternoon, I can have him returned to you by tomorrow.”

“That would be fine,” she replied as she dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief.

He turned to Lucy who still remained standing by the chair she had occupied at his entrance. “May I speak to you privately for a moment?”

“I want to remain with Mother.”

“Oh, dear girl, go and be with your fiancée. Let me have a moment alone with your father.” Mrs. Borgia reached up and took the cold hand of her husband. Fresh tears moved freely down her life-weary eyes.

“Join me in the parlor, doctor?” Lucy asked as if Beau were a stranger to her. Not waiting for his reply, Lucy turned and left the mourning chamber.

Settled into the parlor but by no means settled, Beauregard eyed the woman he had all intentions of marrying. “You have not told your mother, have you? She called me your fiancée.”

“Mother has had enough on her already fragile mind. I saw no need in troubling her more. Besides, are you not my fiancée?” For the first time since his arrival she hesitated and he noticed the slightest trembling in her hands. With relief he noted the ring still on her finger. “I should like to think I am marrying an honest man, Beauregard, one who does not insist on keeping secrets from me.”

“I have kept no secrets from you.”

Her eyes looked up quickly. “And one who does not lie to me.”

“Lucy.”

“You know you have kept secrets from me! You know it and you sit there and lie to me! Should you tolerate my sitting and lying to you? I think not, sir. I love you with all my heart and I have sat in this house with my mother and that man for these past three days anguishing over what has happened. I have lied to my mother far more times than I should like. I have lied to her because I did not wish to hurt her. She is old and her health is poor and her mind is feeble. That man was everything to her in the entire world. As much as I love her, I do not wish to end up like her, some helpless woman who can do nothing for herself without a man. I refuse to be that. You must understand that before you agree to marry me. You would not accept my deceiving you as you have me these past weeks. If I cannot depend on you to be honest with me and to trust me with things that affect me, how can I commit my life to you?”

“You lied to her because you did not wish to hurt her, as I have done with you.” The doctor stood and sighed, “You are right. I have lied to you but there are things I simply cannot tell you, for my own safety as well as yours and everyone at Greenbrier. Your father had such secrets, too. I cannot tell you any of it, Lucy. I simply cannot.” Never had he felt in such despair and anguish. “Lucy, I love you beyond words. My one concern has been seeing to your safety.”

“Then you did know something was going to happen.”

He nodded, “I knew something was coming but not when or how. I hoped against it. I have no control over anything, my love.” His hand touched his temple.

She crossed the floor and sank to her knees at his side, “Oh, Beau. I do want to be your wife, but I cannot be blindly obedient. I cannot be like my mother.”

“No, you can’t, can you?” He cupped her upturned face into the palm of his hand. He smiled; running his hand back over her hair, wishing it was free of the ties and combs that kept it so tight to her head. Bending forward he kissed her on the top of the head. “It is that very fact that drew me to you in the first place.”

“Then you understand.”

“Yes,” he drew back to look at her face more clearly, taking her hand up in his, “but you must understand that in some cases I am the one whose hands are tied. I can’t tell you everything, my pet. You must trust me. Can you do that for just a few more days?” Lucy nodded and rested her head on his knee. “Stay with your mother for now. She needs you here. Vivianne has taken charge of everything based on your little pocket book she found on your bedroom table.”

Lucy smiled but then her brow grew troubled again, “Must we really wait another week?”

“In light of your father’s death, it would be prudent, my impatient one.” He patted her hand, “You are in mourning now regardless of how you felt about your father. I should like you to do the proper thing and wear the black you should wear at least until you are away from here.”

She frowned, “Even for the wedding?”

“Your gown is dark blue. Perhaps a black veil or shawl would be sufficient. You can talk that over with Vivianne.” He rose to go, pulling her to her feet as well, “But, now I must arrange to have your father’s body removed to the Plantation and you must comfort your mother. Write what letters need to be written for her. I can contact the lawyers in regards to the will.”

The words at Edward’s funeral were simple and mourners were few. Consoling letters arrived from New York and Pennsylvania. Mrs. Borgia was welcome and expected by her sister. What few slaves she held were sold off along with all the household items that were no longer needed. Books and clothes and personal trinkets were dutifully packed away into three large trunks and set ready. In the meantime, she moved in with her daughter and future son-in-law.

Lucy lay snuggled in her bed, her arms wrapped tightly around Cassandra as a child would hold a treasured doll, “I’m so afraid, Cass.”

“You should be happy, Miss. Massa Beau, he’ll take care of everything just like he always has.” Cassandra felt the teardrops land on her bare chest. “It’ll be fine.” Her pale brown hand strokes Lucy’s unbound hair.

“I wish I could believe that.”

“You believe my cards, Miss Lucy?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you believe me when I say things are going to be fine, too.”

“I am to be married with war drums beating in Washington. Sometimes when it’s been very quiet at night, I think I can hear them. But there was more to the reading, Cass. Remember? That’s what I’m afraid of most.”

“I know. Go to sleep, Miss Lucy. Tomorrow is your wedding day.”

At the end of the hall Beau stood looking out his own bedroom window. Behind him Vivianne sat, muted into silence by what she had just been told. Every few moments her delicate little mouth would open, her head would tip as if she meant to speak. But her lips would close and nothing would be said.

“Will you do it, Vi?” he asked. “Can I trust you to do this for me?”

“Beauregard,” she studied the back of his head for a moment. “Oh, darling, you’re sure? You’re sure there is no other way?”

“If there was another way, I would do it. My hands,” he looked down at them, hating the irony of it all. “…are tied.”

A white hand touched his shoulder and turned him around to face her. “Darling, I will do it. But be gentle. She loves you so. It will crush her.” Vivianne leaned up and kissed the cheek of the man she had never seen so defeated, “Beauregard, it’s only for a few months, isn’t it? All this? The War.” She smiled as best she could but even the childlike dimples that appeared on each of her cheeks could not take the doubt or fear from her eyes. “Get some rest if you can.” she kissed him again and left him alone.