The Bride Fair. Cheryl Reavis
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father tells me you and Mrs. Canfield have been friends since you were children,” Colonel Woodard said. “He said you used to name your pets after each other. I was particularly interested to hear that there was once a little red hen named ‘Maria Rose.’”
Maria glanced at him, fully aware that he was trying to annoy her again, but she didn’t say anything.
“I believe he mentioned ‘The Three Musketeers,’” the colonel continued. “But he didn’t say who the third one was.”
Maria made no reply to that, either. She was looking at the houses they rode past. There was someone sitting on nearly every porch, all of them watching, waiting to see what indignity would be inflicted upon them next, and all of them trying to decipher the meaning of Maria Markham’s letting herself be seen in the company of the new Yankee colonel.
Again.
“Have courage, Miss Markham,” he said.
“I have no reason to fear,” she said pointedly, and she might have meant it if they were not nearing the Kinnard house. Acacia Kinnard ran this town—at least when it came to social matters. Her husband was a man of property and influence—money—even in these hard times. And whenever she snubbed another woman, that woman’s social invitations ended.
“Maria!” Mrs. Kinnard called from her second-story porch. “Is the curfew lifted?”
“No, Mrs. Kinnard. I have permission to see about Suzanne Canfield.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Kinnard said, obviously pleased. “Well done, Maria!”
“Would you like to visit with this lady a bit?” Colonel Woodard asked under his breath.
“Good heaven’s no,” Maria said in alarm. “I must see about Suzanne,” she added. Knowing Acacia Kinnard, she would want Maria to expand on her success and arrange for all the Kinnard family and friends to escape the curfew, as well.
“I do hope the Ladies’ Literary Society will be able to meet soon,” Mrs. Kinnard called as if on cue. “I so miss our readings. I was truly looking forward to hearing about the Scottish chiefs. Do you know when the curfew will be lifted, Maria?”
“No,” Maria answered, in spite of the fact that the question was by no means directed to her.
“Friday, ma’am,” Colonel Woodard said, taking the hint.
“Friday! Are you certain?”
“I am, ma’am. That is, if there are no further…incidents. We will return to the previous rules and curfew—10:00 p.m.”
“Excellent, Maria!” she called, as if Maria had been the one who made the announcement. “I believe the next meeting—Saturday—will be at your house.”
“No, I don’t think—” Maria began.
“Your house, Maria,” Mrs. Kinnard said firmly. “At the usual time. And I trust your father will want to join us. Gentlemen are always welcome.”
Maria tried to hide her exasperation and waved goodbye instead of answering. A Ladies’ Literary Society gathering was the absolute last thing she needed.
“I hope you are satisfied,” she said to the colonel.
“Being helpful always gives one a certain…satisfaction,” he said.
“You were not helpful, sir,” Maria assured him.
“I don’t believe it would be appropriate to continue the stricter curfew so that you don’t have to entertain the literary society.”
“You haven’t met the literary society,” Maria said, glancing in his direction. To her great surprise the man very nearly smiled.
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