An Unexpected Wife. Cheryl Reavis
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married, Kate found herself coming very close to liking this young woman. Today she seemed to have no guile at all, despite what must have been her mother’s diligent tutelage.
“So tell me. Is it true that Robert Markham has returned?” Valentina asked the room at large.
“Yes,” Kate answered, because no one else seemed inclined to.
“Is he very changed— Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t know. Is he changed, Mother?”
“I couldn’t say. I haven’t been allowed to see him,” Mrs. Kinnard said, and Valentina actually laughed.
“Oh, dear. Someone is going to suffer for that.” Valentina was openly teasing her mother—and somebody was going to suffer for that, too, Kate thought.
But Valentina didn’t seem to be worried in the least. She was so different from the Valentina Kate had grown accustomed to, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.
“Miss Woodard, I believe we were trying to ascertain whether or not Robert said anything sensible. Are you or are you not going to enlighten us?” Mrs. Kinnard said.
“He said he was grateful to you, Mrs. Kinnard—and to Mrs. Justice and Mrs. Russell for establishing his identity,” Kate said.
“As he should be,” Mrs. Kinnard said, not about to give an inch. “Certainly we will have to find out where he’s been all this—”
“Why?” Kate asked, daring to interrupt. “There’s no need for him to justify his whereabouts to anyone, except perhaps Maria. She is the one he has hurt the most.”
“Well, there’s El—” Mrs. Justice started to say.
“And that is not fit for civilized discussion,” Mrs. Kinnard snapped. “What she became is clearly what she always was.” She looked at Kate. “Or perhaps things are done differently where you come from and there is no accountability for bad behavior.”
I’m too tired for this, Kate suddenly thought. What little sleep she’d had had been on one of the boys’ cots in the downstairs nursery wing of the house. Mrs. Kinnard had more than proved that she intended to go to any length necessary to be offended, and Kate just couldn’t endure another round of verbal sparring.
She stood instead. “I believe I’ll go see if the sergeant major can tell me what is happening with my brother-in-law,” she said, hoping that the term “brother-in-law” would induce Mrs. Kinnard to understand whose claim on Robert Markham took precedence. This was a family matter. No one could pacify Mrs. Kinnard at this point, least of all Kate, and she had no intention of allowing the woman to meddle where she didn’t belong. Kate had no intention of coming back, either, whether she gleaned any information from Perkins or not. She had to write her letter to Harrison and she had to get away from Mrs. Kinnard before she said something to unravel Max’s fragile hold on a peaceful military occupation altogether.
“I’ll come with you,” Valentina said.
“That’s not necessary—” Kate tried to say, but Valentina ignored her and her mother’s protests.
“Oh, but I want to. You must tell me about the dresses in Philadelphia—after you speak to Sergeant Major Perkins, of course. I get so lonely for my own kind sometimes. We can have a real conversation.”
“Valentina. I require you here,” Mrs. Kinnard said firmly as Kate stepped into the hallway. She could immediately hear raised voices coming from the upstairs. Sergeant Major Perkins stood at the bottom of the staircase, alert but not yet ready to intervene.
“What’s happening?” Kate asked. “Is that the chaplain yelling?”
“Could be. Or it could be your brother-in-law,” Perkins said. “Not sure who’s preaching to who.”
“Aren’t you going to intervene?”
“Not until I hear furniture breaking,” he said calmly. “Most of the time two soldiers yelling at each other won’t mean a lot.”
“Miss Woodard! Wait!” Valentina called behind her, and the sigh Kate had been suppressing for some time got away from her. Clearly her life would have been much simpler if she’d just gotten on that train.
Chapter Five
Where is she?
Robert kept listening for the sound of his sister-in-law’s footsteps in the hallway outside his door. He had only seen her once since the hiding episode, when she’d brought him his Bible and his Confederate enlistment card, and that was two days ago. He didn’t think she’d been driven to hide again because he hadn’t heard Mrs. Kinnard’s distinctive voice for some time now—or if she had concealed herself, she’d found a more obscure place to do it.
He was feeling much stronger; he was awake and dressed and seated comfortably in the rocking chair by the fire, like the old man he had seemingly become. His appetite had returned—much to Mrs. Justice’s pleasure—but ever since he’d awakened from his laudanum-induced stupor, he’d found himself in the middle of a crossroad. Not a spiritual or an emotional one, but one that literally involved all manner of comings and goings in the house. People arrived in a steady stream at the front door, or they made their entry into the house at the back via the kitchen. However they managed to get inside, they all apparently had the same goal—ostensibly to deliver food and drink as a “welcome home” for him, but actually to satisfy their curiosity about his return. There was no surprise in that, of course; he had essentially come back from the dead. What surprised him was that the parade of would-be visitors continued despite the fact that none of them were ever allowed to visit. He had his brother-in-law’s sergeant major to thank for that, and he was grateful. It was a great relief not to have to talk to anyone. Unfortunately the one person he actually wanted to talk to was prone to hiding.
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