"Oh, good Lord — the date. I was too worried to notice it." She snatched the letter from the chopping block, glanced at the first page, and softly said, "Oh!" a second time. He jumped down and hugged her to help as she'd helped him. They left the kitchen, going upstairs, where he undressed for his bath.
"I'm sorry if I seemed cross downstairs," she said while he peeled off sweaty cotton drawers. Naked, he wrapped his arms around her again.
"Not cross. Understandably concerned. I'm afraid I was sarcastic with you. I apologize."
"We're even." She locked her hands behind his head and gave him a kiss. They held motionless for ten seconds, comfort flowing from one to the other. Such moments were as close as George ever came to understanding the nature of human love.
He took note of the physical side asserting itself. "If we keep this up, I won't get a bath."
She sniffed. "Which you definitely need."
With a mock roar, he flung her backward on the bed, tickling her till she gave her usual plea for mercy. He set off for the bathroom, turned back at the door. "We do have some problems we can do something about. Cameron's invitation, for one."
"The decision's yours, George. I don't want to be any closer to Stanley and Isabel than necessary. But I know you feel there are more important considerations."
"I wish I didn't. Congressman Thad Stevens said Cameron would steal a red-hot stove."
"I have a suggestion. Why don't you go to Washington and talk to some of the Ordnance people? It might help you decide."
"Splendid idea. I can't do it till we solve the problem of the castings, though." He thought a moment. "Do you think I could stand to work near Stanley? I took control of Hazard's away from him, banned his wife from this house — I even hit him once. He hasn't forgotten. And Isabel's vindictive."
"I know that all too well. You must take all of that into consideration. But if you do accept, I'll follow with the children as soon as I can."
His nod showed his troubled state of mind as he walked out of sight. She remained seated on the bed. The room was still; the curtains hung straight; the breeze had died. She understood her husband's uncertainty because she shared it. Old beliefs and relationships had been shattered by this crisis the press had already named "a war of brothers," even though no major battles had been fought. Just as she worried about her father, George feared for the well-being of his friend Orry and for Madeline, the woman Orry loved. How insignificant and helpless they all seemed; single strokes on some giant's canvas whose final design no one could see.
Discussion of the Cameron offer resumed at supper. Looking refreshed in a clean white shirt, George told Brett that Constance had made a very practical suggestion. He would go to Washington before he made up his mind.
"Will you take me with you?" Brett exclaimed. "I could see Billy."
"I can't go immediately." He explained the reason and watched her bright hope tarnish before his eyes. Guilty, he let his thoughts race. It wasn't ten seconds before he continued. "But here's another possibility. I have two important contracts that must go to my attorney down there. I suppose I could find some trustworthy older fellow around the office — he could take them. You could go, too."
"You still won't allow me to go alone?"
"Brett, we disposed of that subject weeks ago."
"Not to my satisfaction."
"Don't get angry. You're an intelligent and capable young woman. But Washington's a cesspool. You don't belong there by yourself — even if we disregard your unmistakably Southern speech, which makes you a target for all sorts of hostility. No, this other way's better. I'll find a man and have him ready to go within a day or two. Pack your valise and stand by."
"Oh, thank you," she said, rushing around the table to hug him. "Can you forgive my bad temper? You two have been so kind, but I've seen so little of Billy since we were married —"
"I understand." He patted her hand. "Nothing to forgive."
She kept thanking him, tears in her eyes. It was one of the rare occasions when Constance saw George flustered.
Later, in their play before love-making upstairs, she said: "Do you really have papers to send to Washington?"
"I'll find some."
She laughed and kissed him and drew him to her breast with great joy.
15
"This carpetbag's heavier than old Fuss and Feathers." Billy groaned as he put it down.
"I brought you a lot of little extras I thought you'd need: books, three havelocks I sewed myself, socks, drawers, a new skillet, one of those small sewing kits for soldiers —"
"In the army they're called housewives." He plucked off his kepi and with his other hand reached back to close the door.
Both kept their voices low, as if wary of listeners. It was three on a sultry afternoon, and they were alone in a room in a boardinghouse. Though they were married, it struck Brett as deliciously wicked.
Stuffy and slope-ceilinged, the small room had but one inadequate window to admit the noise of the unseen street. At that, Billy had been lucky to find any accommodations at all after receiving her telegraph message.
"I've wanted to see you, Brett. See you, love you —" He sounded strange; shy and almost frightened. "I've wanted it so much I ache."
"Oh, I know, my darling. I feel the same. But we've never —"
"What?"
Scarlet, she averted her head. He touched her chin.
"What, Brett?"
She didn't dare meet his eyes. Her face burned. "Before, we've always — made love in the dark."
"I don't want to wait that long."
"No, I — don't either."
He helped with the clothing, rapidly yet without roughness. One by one the layers were shed and tossed anywhere, and there came in the hot gloom that petrifying moment when nothing was concealed, and she knew he'd be revolted by the sight of her body.
The fear melted as he stretched out his hands. He touched her shoulders and slowly slid his palms down her arms, a caress each found tender and exciting. His loving smile changed subtly to a look close to exaltation. Her smile burst into view, radiant, and her joyous laughter accompanied equally joyous tears. Only moments later, she helped him hurry into her for the reunion that was all the sweeter because it was so swift and urgently needed by both of them.
Captain Farmer had given him an overnight furlough. Late in the afternoon, Billy took Brett on a tour of the area near President's Park. The number of soldiers on the streets astonished her. They wore navy, they wore gray, and a few wore such gaudy outfits that they resembled the household troops of some Arab prince. She also noticed a great many blacks wandering.
About an hour before sunset, they crossed a foul-smelling canal to an uncompleted park near the fantastical red towers of the Smithsonian Institution. Several dozen fine carriages had brought well-dressed civilians to watch a retreat exercise conducted by a volunteer regiment, the First Rhode Island. Billy pointed out its commanding officer, Colonel Burnside, a man with magnificent side whiskers. The regimental band played, flags flew, and it was all marvelously exciting and unthreatening; the hour at the boardinghouse had left Brett euphoric.
Billy explained that retreats, parades, reviews, and other public displays were very much a part of the military presence in and around the city. "But there will surely be a battle soon. They say Lincoln wants it, and it looks like Davis does, too. He's got his most popular general commanding the Alexandria line." "You mean General Beauregard?"
He took her arm and slipped it around his as they strolled. "Yes. Once upon a time this army thought pretty highly of Old Bory. Now everyone calls him a scared little peacock. He didn't help matters when he said our side wanted only two things from the South — booty and beauty. Pretty damned insulting."