Elysium: The Plantation Series Book IV (7 page)

"May I be of help?"
The major had followed her into the dining room. Dirty and bedraggled, he
looked as if he could handle a dozen raiders on his own for all his gentleness
now.

"Could you carry
Dawn to bed?"

"Of course."

Lily reached under the
table, drew Dawn away from Maddie, and passed her to Alistair.

"Come here,
sweetheart," he murmured. Dawn curled her arms around his neck without
fully waking.

Lily retrieved Maddie and
together she and Alistair climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

"In here," Lily
said quietly. She lay Maddie in the bed they shared, and then motioned for the
major to lay Dawn next to her. Grabbing a shawl, she followed him out.

Downstairs, she crossed
the sitting room to watch the fiery cross burning down. Major Whiteaker came up
close behind her, watching the flames.

"Mesmerizing –
flames -- aren’t they?" he said.

"Why a cross?"
she asked without turning around. "Why do they choose to burn a sacred
Christian symbol in such an un-Christian act?"

"I have not seen it
done before. Perhaps it’s a throwback to when the clansmen in Scotland burned
crosses on hillsides. They were a combative lot – maybe the fires were to defy
their enemies, or simply to call other clans to battle."

He didn’t touch her, but
she could feel his presence behind her. Here he was a Southerner, a Confederate
soldier, a planter, a former slave-owner, yet he had taken Thomas’s part. He
had brought him home.

"Why were you at the
rally? Why did you take sides with Thomas?"

She listened to him
breathe, wondering if he were not going to answer her.

"Even men who owned
slaves can believe in justice, Mrs. Palmer. We lived too long down here without
it. I will have to answer to God for my part in withholding it from these
people." He paused, and she gave him time.

"I want this new
world to be a place of charity and trust. I want this – reconstruction, they’re
calling it in Washington – I want it to work. Thomas is a man who can make this
a better world."

Lily turned around. He
was too close, and he didn’t step back. She had to tilt her head back to see
his eyes.

"I believe, Major
Whiteaker, you must be a very good man."

They were alone, the lantern
light dim, only the murmur of quiet voices in the kitchen. She could put her
hands up and place them on his chest. She thought he would welcome her touch.
She thought he would kiss her, if she allowed it. She very much wanted to put
her hands on his face, to feel his lips on hers.

She gazed into his eyes
until he dropped his focus to her lips.

His mouth opened slightly
and his head bent.

She realized she was still in
her nightgown. She realized she’d invited his kiss, her yearning surely as plain
as any words.

Lily dipped her face and
stepped away.

"Do you think Thomas
will be all right?" she said, her eyes on the floor.

"He’s young. He’s
fit. I’ve seen men survive much worse."

Uncle Garvey clomped into
the room, the shot gun over his arm. "I’m going to have a look around
outside. You coming?" He held out Peep’s rifle.

"I’ll be here all
night, outside," he told her. "If you need anything." Then he
followed Uncle Garvey into the dark.

Lily fell asleep about
four that morning. When she heard pounding on the door, the sky was light and
all she wanted was to pull the covers over her head. Surely God couldn’t send
any more troubles this quickly. She envisioned slaughtered chickens thrown at
the door or men standing on the stoop with buckets of pine tar. Maybe she could
deal with more by tomorrow, but not yet.

"Lily! Let me in!"
came through over the knocking.

Was that Musette? Her
heart in her throat, Lily rushed downstairs.

Musette stumbled into the
house when Lily opened the door. "How is he? Where is he?"

"What?"

Mr. Chamard strode onto
the porch, his face like thunder. He stepped inside and closed the door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Palmer."
As he spoke to her his hand came down on Musette’s shoulder and squeezed. "Forgive
the intrusion. I see you are not yet dressed."

Lily put a hand to her
throat. She had rushed down without even putting on a shawl. She looked from
Mr. Chamard to Musette, whose face was gray.

Musette closed her eyes
when Mr. Chamard said, "We are most anxious to hear how Thomas is."

Lily nodded. Musette must
have been in that dress all night. Her hair was still dressed from yesterday
but coming down around her ears. "He woke up about midnight, dizzy, but the
doctor was here and said he will recover from his head wound. Rachel did
everything right, the doctor said, and he has hopes there will be no infection."

"Infection? In his
head?" Musette said.

"He has a wound,
here," she said and gestured to her shoulder. Lily had guessed right.
Musette was deeply attached to Thomas Bickell and she was scared to death. It
looked like Mr. Chamard had been holding her back, telling her to wait for
first light, and when dawn came, she cast off all his cautions.

"Can I see -- "

Mr. Chamard spoke over
her. "I’m relieved to hear you and your daughter are well, Mrs. Palmer."
He had not released Musette’s shoulder.

Major Whiteaker opened
the door and came in with a rifle in his hand. "I saw Miss DeBlieux
rushing this way. Is everything all right?"

His gaze flickered over
Lily’s nightgown and at the braid hanging over her shoulder.

"We’ve merely come
calling too early, Alistair. Excuse us. Musette and I will call later in the
day. Thank you, Mrs. Palmer."

With his hand on
Musette’s shoulder, he turned her and firmly guided her out the door.

The major closed it
behind them and turned back to Lily with a question on his face. "What’s
happened?"

"Miss DeBlieux has
apparently been waiting for daylight to come to enquire about Thomas. If you’ll
give me a minute, I’ll make coffee. You’re probably half-starved, too."

Her bare feet were stuck
to the floor for a moment, waiting for her to tell them to move. His eyes were
perfectly correct, avoiding looking at her nightgown or even at her hair mussed
from the pillow. But he didn’t keep his eyes from looking at her bare toes.

He jerked his gaze back
up to her face. "Yes. Coffee would be good. Thank you."

Lily’s feet flew up the
stairs then. When she came back downstairs, dressed, her hair in a neat bun, he
was coming in the back door with a bucket of water from the well.

He was rumpled and in
need of a shave, but he moved with the elegance of a man in white tie and
tails. "I got the fire lit in the stove," he said. He had a row of
five or six stitches in his chin where Rachel had sewn him up some time after
Lily had gone to bed.

"Thank you. I
confess to being intimidated by it, such a grand stove as this. Twice as big as
the one I cooked on in Philadelphia."

Uncle Garvey came into
the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of his face. "Morning, Lily. Alistair. Who
was at the door?"

Lily glanced at the major,
who seemed content for her to answer. "Mr. Chamard and Musette stopped by
to ask about Thomas."

"How is he this
morning, Garvey?"

"I thought he
sounded pretty clear-headed last night considering the man has a concussion."

The major nodded. "I
can send some laudanum over later, for the pain."

"Alistair, I don’t
know about that stuff. He’s already got a head full of wool. I think I’d rather
let him sip at a glass of whiskey if his shoulder pains him too much. The
headache, well I expect he’ll sleep through the next day or so."

All three of them stilled
at the sound of a horse in the yard. Major Whiteaker strode to the door where
he’d propped his rifle and picked it up before he opened the door.

"It’s all right,"
he said over his shoulder, catching Lily’s eye. "He’s one of my men."

An old black man
dismounted from his mule and walked up onto the back porch. "Morning, Major."

Alistair stepped onto the
porch to meet him, leaving the door open behind him. "Morning, Elvin. What
brings you here so early?"

Uncle Garvey stepped next
to the major to see what the man had to say. Lily stood in the doorway.

"Got bad news, Major.
Sorry to tell you this. Didn’t come any sooner cause I don’t like riding in the
dark, and well, nothing you could have done about it we weren’t already doing.
So I waited till the sun was up before I saddled Mable here and come on. That
wadn’t till after we figured you might be here cause this is where that speaker
lives, the one got beat so bad yesterday."

Lily saw Major
Whiteaker’s shoulders move to take in a breath, reaching for patience she
supposed. She would like to shake the man herself for holding back the
news.

"Elvin," he said
calmly, "what happened?"

"Why, a bunch of men
came riding through late in the night calling out that rebel yell, waving
torches. Lots of people rushed out to see what the commotion was and seen them toss
torches through the schoolhouse windows and set the whole place ablaze."

The major drew in a quick
breath. "Fanny Brown – is she all right?"

"Oh yeah. All that
whooping woke her up and she run on out of her room there in the back. Like to
got run down by one of the horses, but she dodged him pretty good. She staying
up at Molly’s place now."

Alistair ran a hand through
his hair and blew out a breath. He had been proud of that school, Lily thought.
First one in the area for the freed children. Built it out of his own pocket,
bought books and slates. Hired Fanny Brown to teach. It was a blow.

"You go on back and
tell Mr. Hatfield I’ll want to see him first thing, please, Elvin. Get Mable
some water before you head back."

The major turned around. "I’ll
need to get on," he told Lily.

"Don’t go just yet,
Alistair," Garvey said. "You need your breakfast, and everything you
got to do when you get home will wait for you."

"Yes," Lily
added. She touched his sleeve and then pulled her hand back. "You need
your coffee and some breakfast after being up all night."

He nodded. "Coffee
would be good."

Later Lily would fix
breakfast for everyone else when they got up, but for now it was quiet in the
kitchen, just the three of them talking. They were on their second cups of
coffee when Uncle Garvey said, "Well, it’s started."

He nodded. "Yes, it
has."

"Like you said. You
and Bertrand and Johnston. Think it’s going to be bad?"

"If this is how
they’re beginning, it can’t do anything else but get worse." The major
nodded at Lily. "Garvey, you’ve got Mrs. Palmer, Rachel, and two children
in the house. I’m going to send some men to patrol the place for a few nights
if you’ll allow me."

Uncle Garvey scowled into
his coffee cup.

"Garvey," he said
again.

"Yes, all right.
Thank you, Alistair." Uncle Garvey pushed his chair back and left the table
without looking at either of them.

The major looked at her. "Garvey
Bickell is a proud man. I’m sorry to – "

"He’ll come around.
We don’t have enough people here to keep watch, and I don’t know if our pockets
are deep enough to hire guards."

"And you have two
little girls in the house."

"Yes. Thank you, Major
Whiteaker."

He sat back from the
table and looked at the napkin he fiddled with. "I’d like it if you called
me Alistair." When she didn’t answer right away, he looked at her with a
little half-smile on his face. "Now you’ve seen me in all my morning glory
and fixed my breakfast."

"Alistair, then."

He focused those blue
eyes on her and she twisted her napkin in her lap.

He grinned at her. "And
may I call you Lily?"

"Oh. Of course."

"I’ve seen you in
your morning glory, too," he said softly.

Musette and Mr. Chamard returned.
This time all was as decorous as a Sunday afternoon.

Lily offered coffee. They
accepted. They sat in the sitting room and sipped for several minutes before
Musette cleared her throat.

"How is your patient
this morning?"

"Thomas has taken a
little broth. He’s awake."

"And clear headed?"
Mr. Chamard asked. "A lot of people are depending on that young man’s mind
being clear."

"He’s groggy and in
pain. I think it’s too soon to ask him to be clear-headed. That was quite a
knock on the head."

"Alistair said last
night it was a pistol butt got him from behind."

"A pistol butt and a
bayonet," Lily said. "As if the war had never ended."

Musette had sat mute
through the conversation. Now she stood up abruptly. "I’ll see Thomas now."

Lily blinked. She glanced
at Mr. Chamard, who was frowning.

"Musette …"
Lily began.

"I want to see him."

Mr. Chamard gave Lily a
slight shake of the head. She agreed with him. Whether it was appropriate or
not, however, was not an argument likely to sway Musette.

"Musette, Thomas is
badly hurt, his head must ache awfully, he looks a fright. He doesn’t want you
to see him like this."

Musette fisted her hands.

Rachel appeared at the
door to the sitting room. Had she been listening? Did she know how Musette felt
about her son?

"Thomas not seeing
nobody today, Miss Musette. Nor tomorrow neither."

"Rachel, I just want
– "

Rachel shook her head,
her tall square body blocking the door. "He’s not seeing nobody today."

Musette wilted. Lily
worried she might wilt all the way to the floor, but Mr. Chamard stood and
grasped her arm.

"We will enquire
again to see how he does." Mr. Chamard guided Musette to the front door. "Good
day, Mrs. Palmer."

Rachel watched them out
the window.

"You haven’t slept
at all, have you, Rachel? Let me feed you and then you go to bed. I’ll sit with
Thomas."

"I guess I am
hungry, now you mention it," Rachel said softly, still watching the young
woman who so hopelessly loved her boy.

"Come on then. I’ll
warm up the coffee and fix you a plate."