Shadow of Dawn (30 page)

Catherine scanned the groups of uniformed men
who stood at various points throughout the two rooms. Several had
been accompanied by their wives. She trembled and felt Andrew’s arm
tighten; she knew he glanced at her.

“I’m a little nervous about meeting the
president,” she said. “Do you see him?”

“Why no, not just yet. He’ll probably make an
appearance later in the evening.”

A tall man materialized suddenly in a doorway
at the end of the other room. It was Clayton.

S
he had turned
slightly away from Andrew when she saw Clayton, so he did not hear
her quick intake of breath. Clayton’s eyes met hers and moved
instantly to take in the man at her side whose hand now rested on
her lower back.

Clayton nodded at her somewhat remotely and
spoke to a few people who had quickly surrounded him. He was
clothed in the dress uniform of the Confederacy, minus the hat, and
his black hair shone beneath the glow of the chandelier. How
handsome he was—and how well every woman near him knew it!

Catherine stared indignantly at a trio of
girls about her own age who stood by flirting with him, bracelets
tinkling as they jiggled their wrists, earbobs dancing as they
tossed their heads, necklaces glittering on overexposed bosoms. The
unmarried girls were not permitted to nurse the wounded men but ran
errands for convalescing soldiers. Catherine did not know these
young women but had seen them at the hospital. She wanted to slap
them.

She saw Clayton make an almost imperceptible
gesture with his head toward a uniformed man nearby. The man turned
and looked at Catherine, and after a moment he began making his way
toward her, stopping once in a while to speak to someone else.

“Mrs. Kelly, how nice to see you,” he said
when he reached her. “Hello, sir. You probably don’t remember me,
Mrs. Kelly, but you got me through quite a bout with
pneumonia.”

Catherine was certain she had never seen him
before. “Of course,” she said. “Though I’m not good at remembering
names.”

“Major Benjamin Knight, at your service,” he
said with a bow. “Major Pierce and I were just speaking about you
the other day. Neither one of us will ever forget your
kindness.”

“I…I’m not sure I remember Major Pierce.”

“He had two gunshot wounds. I know he would
like to thank you personally. If you’ll excuse me I’ll get him.” He
bowed again and left them.

“A regular angel of mercy, weren’t you?”
Andrew said, deferentially.

Catherine hardly heard him. Clayton had
disentangled himself from his horde of admirers and was beginning
to walk toward her. Her heart hammered forcefully in her chest.

“Mrs. Kelly,” he said, reaching out to take
her hand. “My name is Clayton Pierce. Major Knight said he’d spoken
to you and I wanted to be sure to give you my regards, and to thank
you for your excellent care of me during my stay in the
hospital.”

She swallowed. “Thank you, Major Pierce.”

He released her hand and waited.

“This is my husband, Captain Andrew
Kelly.”

Clayton looked surprised, then puzzled, as
they shook hands.

“Is something wrong, sir?” Andrew asked.

Clayton shrugged and laughed a little. “A
strange coincidence. I heard of a Captain Andrew Kelly who died
last September.”

Andrew looked bemused. “Obviously a mistake.
Or someone with the same name.”

“He was in Early’s division,” Clayton said
casually. “May I ask, who is your commanding officer?”

Catherine saw Andrew’s jaw go rigid. “As I
said, Major Pierce, it was obviously a mistake, for I am very much
alive.”

“Indeed,” Clayton said, apparently deciding
to drop the matter.

“Perhaps you would allow me the honor of a
dance with Mrs. Kelly later in the evening, Captain.”

“My wife has been ill, Major. I fear I must
decline.”

Catherine saw Clayton’s quick look of concern
and said smoothly, “Why, Andrew, why else would I come here? I’ve
had a cold, Major Pierce, but I’m much better now.”

Clayton bowed slightly, glancing at each of
them in turn. “If you are certain, ma’am. Pleased to have met you,
Captain Kelly.” He walked away and his attention was immediately
claimed by a middle-aged woman and her young, curvaceous
daughter.

Andrew brought Catherine some pecans and a
small piece of cake from the refreshment table. The musicians had
set themselves up in a corner of the dining room, and after a trial
run-through of “Old Susannah,” they burst immediately into “Dixie.”
Afterward Andrew led her out onto the floor for a waltz. She could
not tell if he moved in just the same way her first husband had;
she could barely remember those hurried days two years ago.

Major Knight asked her for a dance;
fortunately it didn’t last long for she was already tired. Some
time later Clayton approached them, looked at them inquiringly, and
held out his hand.

“May I claim that dance now, Mrs. Kelly?”

Catherine smiled reassuringly at Andrew and
stepped with Clayton into the adjoining room. Moving some distance
away from the other dancers, Clayton said, “Don’t worry. Ben will
keep Andrew busy talking about something or other.”

As he swept her into the waltz, she made a
conscious effort not to appear to be in a state of perfect bliss.
And, to be sure, it was not altogether perfect, for Clayton did not
hold her as closely as she would have liked.

“You are pale, madam,” he said gravely,
though his expression was deliberately calm and pleasant. “I see
faint circles beneath your eyes. What exactly has been the nature
of your illness?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I caught a cold after
getting wet the other night. I’m quite well.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Major.”

His candid glance went around the room. “We
must be quick. I’ll not dance with you more than once. Have you
talked to Miranda about him?”

“Yes, just briefly. She says there aren’t any
birthmarks or anything remarkable on either twin. They were exactly
alike.”

“Perhaps you should question him about his
family, as though you’re making idle conversation. And if he’s
really Andrew he should know the circumstances of your wedding
night.”

“Yes, I never thought of that. But Clayton,
I’m certain he’s not Andrew.”

“You thought he was until you found out about
John. There must be no doubt, Catherine. I wish I had more time. We
may not be able to discover the truth about the Kellys until this
war is over. And I doubt this Mr. Kelly…whoever he is…will be able
to resist your considerable charms for another year or two.”

“Why do you think he’s waited this long?”

“Oh, there could be any number of reasons.
I’m inclined to believe that he is John Kelly, and he thinks that
in a truly intimate moment you might realize it.”

“But he can’t expect us to go on like this
for the rest of our lives!”

Clayton thought for a moment. “If he is
hiding from something, he may not expect to stay with you for very
long.”

“You mean he might just disappear one day and
never return? Another desertion! People will certainly start to
wonder about me.”

“That’s why we have to find the truth, and as
soon as possible. I’ll do everything I can…I’ve already put Mrs.
Shirley on the trail of John Kelly, providing there is a
trail.”

Catherine’s tiredness was turning into a deep
fatigue and dizziness, but she fought not to show it. “What are we
going to do about Bart? Sallie is going out of her mind. I feel
terrible about it.”

“I know. A couple of men have been watching
the house in the woods. We thought the killer might come back and
try to bury the body, but that hasn’t happened. I would expect his
body to be discovered in the next day or two by a ‘hunter’ passing
by.”

“I told Ephraim about Bart. I told him just
about everything.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. He’s a good man.
He’ll watch over you.”

“That’s just what he said about you. Clayton,
how did you arrange all this?”

“Actually, Mrs. Shirley did most of the
arranging. I think the president is ill, but Mrs. Davis will be
down shortly. You’ll like—” He broke off. “What is it?”

Another wave of dizziness washed over her.
She faltered in a step and at once Clayton stopped and drew her
aside. She found herself sitting in a chair next to the small,
unlit fireplace, and then he was pressing a glass into her
hand.

“Drink this,” he said, his voice hard and
tight as if he were angry. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

She sipped the punch and gradually felt
strength returning to her limbs.

Clayton spoke swiftly and very low. “There’s
nobody around us, Catherine, so I’ll say this…I hate this situation
as much as you do and somehow I’m going to fix it. I hate the
thought of that man calling himself your husband going home with
you. If he harms a hair on your head, I’ll kill him.”

Catherine kept her eyes on the glass she held
in both hands, not daring

to look at him.

“And most of all I hate this war that keeps
us apart. I’d almost risk everything for a moment alone with you.”
He continued with quiet intensity, “Catherine, remember how much I
love you, and hold onto that no matter what. Someday, I promise
you, we’ll be together. And now I have to bring him to you…he’ll
think it strange if I don’t.”

He turned abruptly and walked away. Catherine
felt hot and flushed; she pulled out her handkerchief and fanned
herself with it.

In a moment Clayton returned with Andrew, who
looked worried. “I believe your wife is not as well as she thought.
Are you feeling better, Mrs. Kelly?”

She nodded, her head bent. Andrew knelt down
to look into her face, and touched her cheek. “My poor dear, we’ll
go home at once, of course. Thank you for seeing to her, Major
Pierce. Come, Catherine…can you walk?”

“Yes.”

Andrew stood and helped her to her feet.
Catherine made herself look at Clayton, who remained stiff and
unsmiling.

“Thank you for your kindness, Major. I’m
sorry we couldn’t finish our waltz. Perhaps some other time.”

Clayton bent over the hand she offered him
and looked directly into her eyes. “It would be my pleasure,” he
said. “Good night, ma’am. Captain.”

They wished him good night, and Andrew
ushered her out of the room. She waited for her cloak while Andrew
asked for the carriage and sought out one of the hosts to express
their regret at having to leave early.

“President and Mrs. Davis will be sorry they
didn’t get a chance to meet you,” the officer said graciously.
“They do so admire the dedication of our nurses.”

The carriage was brought around, with Tad in
the driver’s seat. They climbed in and rode for a while in silence.
Catherine huddled under her cloak and gazed out the window at the
stars.

“How do you know that man?”

Catherine started. Her eyes flew to Andrew’s
face but it was too dim in the carriage to see his expression, even
with the small lamp that swung gently back and forth.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“Major Pierce.”

“Andrew, I can’t understand what you
mean.”

“You know him. Or you took a very quick
liking to him.”

“I hardly took a liking to him. I was only
being polite. He was telling me about the president. But I did
remember seeing him before he was wounded, and I told him so. He
was…he’s a friend of Bart’s.”

“Bart!” Andrew seemed surprised.

“Yes. He said they went to the University of
Virginia together.”

“Has he been to the Henderson’s’ house?”

“You know, Andrew, I never pay much attention
to Bart or his friends. Why, you act as though you’re jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” he said quietly. “There was
something about the way you looked at him.”

“I’m sure you are mistaken.” She turned to
look out the window again. Her mind raced along with her heartbeat.
Was this the time to question Andrew, or was it too soon? Would he
conclude that she and Clayton had been discussing him?

She was tired of waiting. Weeks could go by
and she might never find another opportunity to question him alone.
As certain as she was that he was not Andrew, she and Clayton both
knew that they could not live together as husband and wife as long
as this man stood between them.

“Andrew,” she began in a casual tone, “you’ve
never told me much about your family. That is, I know your parents
died. But don’t you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Not living,” he replied. “I really have no
family, except for Miranda and some distant cousins. That’s why I
had hoped you and I would have several children.”

Catherine felt as though she would strangle
over the words but managed to get them out. “I hoped that I would
have a baby after you went away to war.”