The Velvet Shadow (13 page)

“How thrilling!” Flanna patted his arm again, then lowered her eyes while he picked up his bag and led her through the milling crowd. They didn’t speak, but one phrase kept replaying itself in Flanna’s mind: “
Lead them south
.”

The train could not take her south to Charleston, but the army might.

Throughout the night, the idea burned like a fever in Flanna’s brain. Why not join the army as a doctor? Pleas for able-bodied army physicians filled the newspapers, so why couldn’t she offer her services? Though she had never expected to treat male patients, she could diagnose diarrhea and dispense doses of castor oil as well as any man.

Why not enlist? She tossed on her bed, thumping her pillow as the question hammered at her. She could join a regiment, travel south with them, and offer comfort as needed. And when they were close enough to South Carolina that she felt confident of finding her way home, she and Charity could petition for a pass to cross into Confederate territory. If that seemed impossible, they could slip away in the night. They’d endure some discomfort, to be sure, but if they fled in the temperate weather of summer they could sleep under the stars and travel during the daylight hours. No one would dare molest a gentlewoman traveling with her maid.

Sighing, Flanna turned and flattened herself upon her mattress. She stared at the ceiling, imprinting the swirled plaster with images
of her loved ones. If this plan worked, she might soon see them again! She had come north to become a doctor, and somehow it seemed reasonable that being a doctor should provide her a way home.

Her heart swelled with hope, and finally she was able to sleep.

Rising early the next morning, Flanna penned a letter, addressing it to the War Department in Washington. In it she truthfully explained that although she was a South Carolinian by birth, she felt indebted to Massachusetts for providing her medical education. “If I may repay this debt by being of service to sons of this fair state as they venture south,” she wrote, “I would be honored to do so. I ask only that my maid be able to attend me and that I be allowed to depart the regiment once we near South Carolina.”

After double-checking her message, Flanna slid the letter into an envelope and sealed it, trusting that her intentions would be appreciated and well received.

If the Union was as desperate for qualified doctors as the newspaper ads seemed to suggest, she and Charity might be attached to a unit and moving south within a matter of weeks.

T
wo days after his return home, Alden Haynes turned before the mirror in his mother’s upstairs hallway and soberly studied his reflection. After thirteen years at West Point Academy, four as a student and nine as an instructor, his stiff military bearing had become second nature. Did women like Flanna O’Connor find it attractive—or stuffy?

He glanced behind him to make sure none of the servants stood in the hall, then leaned toward the mirror and coaxed a smile to his lips. The result, he decided, abandoning the effort, was decidedly artificial and hardly worth the trouble. Let Roger charm and sweet-talk the ladies. Alden’s manner was probably too severe to appeal to a bright, charming woman like Flanna O’Connor.

Alden turned away from the mirror, resigning himself to the enjoyment of Flanna’s company from a distance. He’d taken altogether too much pleasure in the fact that she had been waiting at the train depot when he arrived. Though her flustered explanation was not entirely convincing, he wanted desperately to believe that she had sought him out. Roger, of course, had professed complete surprise at Alden’s appearance. Which might mean that Flanna had considered the situation and wanted to meet Alden without Roger’s knowledge…or that she was waiting for some other fellow.

Roger dismissed his traitorous thoughts. Her reasons for appearing did not matter. She had been waiting and he had enjoyed her company, but she was still Roger’s sweetheart.

Now she was coming to dinner. Alden straightened his uniform dress coat, glanced in the mirror one final time, then moved to the window where she would soon appear. Though Roger had taken the buggy to fetch Flanna and would pretend that the evening was his idea, Alden had been the one to suggest that the Hayneses ought to invite Flanna to dinner to celebrate her graduation from medical school.

When he mentioned the idea at yesterday’s lunch, his mother had nearly required her smelling salts. “Merciful heavens,” she had whispered, a melancholy frown flitting across her features, “I couldn’t have that girl in the house, not now! What would the neighbors think? You cannot know, Alden, how the town seethes with suspicion. If anyone thought I entertained one of the enemy—”

“Flanna O’Connor is not the enemy. She has been a resident of Boston for nearly two years,” Alden had interrupted. He had turned to Roger. “And since she is
your
sweetheart, don’t you think you should extend the invitation?”

For once Roger was speechless. “Why should we celebrate that useless degree?” he had asked, lifting a brow. “When we’re married, I expect her to put all such foolishness out of her mind.”

“I thought medicine was important to her.”

“She feels an obligation to a dead slave and her doddering old father.” Roger had leaned back in his chair as the beginning of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “Trust me, Alden, after even a short stint of hospital work, Flanna will be happy to assume her role as my wife. I’d rather not encourage her medical interests.”

Indignation flared through Alden’s soul. “Private Roger Haynes of the Twenty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment, I am your superior officer and acting head of this household. I hereby order you to do what is right, and may God forgive you your hesitations!”

Outwitted and outranked, Roger had written the invitation and sent a servant to deliver it.

Now the clip-clop of horses’ hooves broke the silence of the evening. Alden dropped the lace curtain and stepped back, hiding himself in
the shadows. Flanna’s husky voice rose from the street, warming the chilly night, and as she alighted from the carriage on Roger’s arm, Alden thought her the fairest vision he had ever seen. She wore a green gown that unmistakably matched her startling eyes. Her throat looked slender and graceful above a square-cut neckline, and the elegant spread of her flowing skirt reduced her waist to wasplike thinness.

“If it is treason to love an enemy or your brother’s girl,” he murmured, noticing how the gaslight sparked the coppery glints of her netted hair, “then I am a fool, and guilty on both counts.”

Roger’s head inclined toward that burnished crown as he whispered a comment, and a secretive smile softened her lips in return. Alden turned toward the door as bitter jealousy stirred inside his gut. Tonight he would not only have to tolerate his brother’s patronizing attitude and his mother’s cool indifference, he would also have to fight his own battle of personal restraint. But the effort was a small price to pay for the joy of spending another hour in Flanna’s company.

“The table is lovely, Mrs. Haynes,” Flanna remarked for the fifth time. Alden rested his chin on his hand and smiled, wondering what she would say if she knew he had ordered that the finest linens, china, and silver be used for this special occasion.

His mother sat at the head of the table, her hands stiffly folded in her lap, her mouth set in a grim line. She had not wanted to do anything for Flanna, but Alden knew how to manipulate the intricacies of her reason. “Set a fine table,” he had suggested, “and welcome her with open arms. She will doubtless remain in Boston during this time of conflict, and you know Roger will want to marry her as soon as he returns. So let it be said that you believed in her loyalty to the Union from the beginning. Let your recommendation prove her faithfulness, and you will not only gain a beautiful daughter-in-law, but a female doctor in the family! Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton will be so proud of you, they may want to visit and pay their respects.”

Roger, of course, was delighted to entertain his sweetheart. Flush with excitement from his day of recruiting men to serve in his company, he was eager to talk about the coming struggle and its political ramifications. Leaning back in his chair, Alden watched Flanna as Roger talked. Her green eyes glittered as he related dull stories of complete insignificance, and for a moment Alden wondered how it would feel to have those emerald eyes light up when
he
spoke.

“Perhaps Miss O’Connor would like to tell us about her final examinations.” Alden lifted his glass. “After all, that is the occasion we are celebrating tonight.”

A deep flush rose from her square neckline, brightening her complexion to a becoming rosy hue. “It was difficult, but I rather enjoyed the experience.” She twisted her hands as she sought Alden’s eyes. “I found the examination…most challenging.”

“Not quite as challenging as a full day of drill, aye, Alden?” Roger winked broadly across the table. “Those raw recruits are determined to deplete my store of patience! I’ve been trying to teach a handful of farmers how a gentleman wears a uniform, but they would rather use their dress coats for sunshades than wear them properly!”

Flanna lowered her head, her flush deepening to crimson as Roger continued. Alden ignored his brother, concentrating instead on the forgotten lady who sat across the table. Roger seemed to care only for her beauty, her deportment, and her charm, but Alden suspected that inside that faultless package resided far more woman than his brother could handle.

Roger’s silver tongue slowed as Howard came in to clear the table. Alden pushed his chair back, ready to escort his mother to the parlor, but Roger caught his eye and grinned. “I’m so glad we’re together tonight,” he said, a glow rising in his face. “I have something important to discuss, and cannot think of a better time to broach the subject.”

Like a wisp of smoke, a sense of unease crept into Alden’s mood. “What could be so important?” He tried to sound casual. “We are here to celebrate. Serious matters can certainly wait until later.”

“Not this.” Roger pushed back his chair and stood, then dropped to one knee beside Flanna. She looked up, alarmed, and caught Alden’s eye for a moment before Roger took her hand and reclaimed her attention.

“My dear Miss O’Connor,” he began, one hand coming to rest over his heart.

“Heaven help us,” Alden heard his mother murmur. “My smelling salts. Where could they be?” She rose and left the room in a flurry of silk.

Oblivious to his mother’s exit, Roger continued. “Surely you know that I have great feelings of regard for you, Flanna.” Eagerness and hope mingled upon his face as he gazed up at her. “When this difficulty is over, I want to come back and make you my wife. This is an official proposal, formally offered.” Roger cut a quick glance to Alden. “With my brother as a witness, I now present my life and all that I possess to you. Will you have me?”

“Roger, don’t.” Flanna pulled ineffectively at his hand.

“Don’t be embarrassed, my sweet, Alden is family. Speak now, tell me that you agree, and we shall covenant together.”