Love and War

He fell into a chair that crackled as if it might break. Homer's shadow passed the open windows. The slave made her nervous with that musket. High in the eastern sky, a signal shell exploded. A flat report followed the shower of brilliant blue light-streamers. She began carefully.

'Did you read through all the statements? Study the numbers?' Flushed with heat and tension, she extracted one paper from the packet, unfolded it, and handed it to him. 'That shows the balance in our account as of last month.'

The fine, looping handwriting blurred. He knuckled his eyes. Our account, she said. Still, he was baffled. 'These are pounds sterling —'

'Quite right. At present exchange rates, we have a quarter of a million dollars — sound Yankee dollars, not Confederate paper.' Skirts whispering, she ran to him and knelt — humiliating, but it might divert him when she reached the trickiest part. 'We have earned a profit of approximately seven hundred percent from just two voyages between Nassau and Wilmington.'

'Voyages?' He goggled. 'What in God's name are you talking about?'

'The ship, darling. The swift little steamship Mr. Lamar Powell wanted you to invest in, don't you remember? You refused, but I took the risk. She was refitted in Liverpool last fall, sailed to the Bahamas by her British captain and crew — and she's already made us what some would consider a fortune. If she goes to the bottom tomorrow, we've recouped our investment many times over.'

'Powell — that worthless adventurer?'

'A shrewd businessman, dearest.'

His tiny eyes blinked behind the wire spectacles. 'Do you see him?'

'Oh, no. Disbursement of profits takes place in Nassau, and we receive these reports by mail that comes in on blockade runners. Water Witch has done so well because she doesn't carry any war cargo. She brings in coffee, lace — niceties that are scarce and command huge prices — and when she goes out again, she's loaded with cotton. There, I've explained everything, haven't I? It just addles my poor head to do so, but I want you to retire for the evening assured and comforted. You can fall asleep dreaming of your new-found —'

'You defied me, Ashton,' he broke in, shaking the paper at her. Still heavy weather ahead. 'I said no to Powell, and secretly, behind my back, you took our nest egg —'

She let the sweet belle's smile go now; it hadn't worked. 'The money, I remind you, was mine to start with.' 'Legally it's mine. I am your husband.' Creak and creak, the express wagons passed, lanterns bobbing like skiffs in a rough sea. A man shrieked; another wept; two more signal lights burst, cascaded, and died behind the rooftops. 'James,' she said, 'what is the matter with you? I have increased our wealth —'

'Illegally,' he shouted. 'Unpatriotically. What else have you done that's immoral?'

Instinct said she must attack, and quickly, or he would suspect. 'What do you mean by that insulting remark?'

'Noth —' He pushed at hair straggling over his greasy forehead. 'Nothing.' He turned away.

Ashton jerked him around. 'I demand a better answer than that.'

'I just —' he avoided her eye — 'wondered — is Powell in Richmond?'

'I believe so. I can't swear. I told you, I don't see him. I delivered the initial investment to an attorney handling formation of the syndicate. Powell was there, but I have not met him since.' Her breast felt fiery, painful because her heart beat so fast. But she had learned long ago that successful deception depended on strong nerves, a controlled expression, and eyes that never wavered from the person to be deceived. She knew Huntoon's emotional temperature was falling when his shoulders returned to their customary droop. His attempt at masculinity had been brief and unsuccessful.

'I believe you,' he said, then noticed her dark eyes fixed behind him. Turning, he saw Homer on the terrace, drawn by the shouting.

Ashton lashed him. 'Get back to your rounds!' He disappeared.

'I believe you,' Huntoon said again, 'but do you realize the stigma you've put on yourself? You're a speculator now. They're a scorned breed. Some say every one of them should be arrested, tried, and hung.'

'Too late to worry about that, my sweet. If anyone calls for a noose, two will be needed in this family. So I suggest you follow my example and be discreet about the subject of Water Witch. You might also be glad I had the foresight you lacked.'

It was harsh and slipped out, but she was tired of dealing with a child. This child deserved whipping, not coddling. Fortunately, he could no longer summon anger, just his customary whine:

'But, Ashton — I don't know whether I can accept money from —'

'You can. You will.' She pointed to the packet. 'You already have.'

Suddenly he squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the edge of the tall window as the last ambulance rolled out of sight. There came sudden rumblings and boomings. Rooftops flickered red. Responding to pent-up fear, people poured into nearby streets, shouting questions. Was the invasion at hand?

Oblivious, Huntoon whispered, 'Jesus, you're so hard.' Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. 'So hard — You leave me nothing. I feel — You make me feel like a man not worthy of the name.'

How shortsighted and pathetic he was. It made her angry all over again, with no desire to spare him.

'Is the word you want castrated, darling?'

Trembling, loathing her, he watched her affirm her own question with a small, neat nod. Businesslike, she continued. 'In this matter and in some others we might name, you're exactly that. We've known it for years, haven't we?'

Red flashes; cannon fire. 'You bitch.'

Ashton laughed at him.

Huntoon's face changed from red to a color close to purple. He blinked, and again, and kept blinking as he rushed to her, grasping and stroking her hand repeatedly. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Will you forgive me? I'm sure your decision is an intelligent one. Whatever you want is agreeable. God, I love you. Please say you forgive me?'

After letting him writhe a few moments longer, she did. She even let him fondle and attempt to make love to her when they went to bed. She was relieved when he was unable to finish and withdrew, flaccid, but saying how happy he was that she had forgiven him.

Simpleton, she thought, smiling in the dark.

56

'Never in my life have I spent a more peculiar Independence Day,' George said to Constance.

William was leaning from the parlor window, hauling in bunting he and Patricia had hung the night before. 'Why, Pa?'

'Because,' George said, folding the tricolored material and putting it in a box, 'the speeches were so brave and full of hope' — in the afternoon they had attended a long public ceremony — 'and down on the peninsula we're whipped.'

'It's really over?' Constance asked.

'Nearly. The departmental telegraph reports the army's withdrawing to the James. McClellan almost had Richmond in his hand and couldn't take it.'

'Because Lee brought Stonewall marching to help him,' William said. George responded with a somber nod. His son sounded like an admirer of Old Jack.

There were none at the Winder Building. How often had George listened to departmental blowhards mock Jackson because he held his arm in the air before or during a battle so the blood would flow properly? How often had he heard it said that some of Jackson's own subordinates declared him certifiably insane? George was often pressed to provide anecdotes of Jackson's bizarre behavior from their cadet days, but, although there were plenty, he declined. The mockery disgusted him because its source was fear. Tom Jackson was smart and relentless as a