Infidelity: Manor (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 6

  She knew I was right, but our love was so strong she didn’t want to admit it.

  “Perhaps after I get everybody settled, I can come back?” She smiled at me, and I knew she understood.

  “Wait until I can send you word…I think the damage from this invasion is going to get very ugly. But maybe when the war is over…you know I could never say no to you.”

  Downstairs, I could hear the soldiers coming in and out. There were two market wagons sitting in the front of the house. General Bradley was at the port, waiting for these carriages to arrive with their passengers.

  I shook the tears from my eyes. “Now you must go, Sallie. You must. Show the others how to keep a brave face. They’ll be scared, especially the children. You show them how to keep their spirits up. Use your feminine strength to keep everybody positive.”

  She nodded faintly.

  “We women have to hold things together. That’s what we do.” I kissed her cheek, and her tears wet my lips.

  She didn’t say a word, but stood with resignation. I grabbed one of her large cases, and moved it to the top of the stairs. A young soldier looked up at me from his chair at the head of the stairs, then stood up and took the baggage. Another soldier grabbed the case from Sallie.

  Sallie turned back to me, eyes on fire.

  “Don’t look back, Sallie.” I tried to be as commanding as possible, but inside my heart was breaking. She was the only person in Montague Manor who made me feel loved. “Step forward and lead the way.” My cheeks were wet, my eyes burning, but I kept my voice strong.

  She turned one last time, gave me a wan smile, then stepped down the stairs with a confident stride. She walked out to the carriages that even now were filling with the workers from the field. I stood at the top of the stairs, and I held the railing my great-great-grandfather had made. My tears splashed it. I felt like my heart was being torn from me.

  But I had to be strong. For them. For myself. I again shook my head and wiped the tears from my cheek. I strode down those stairs and stood at the doorway. The last few getting on the carriage included Ruth and Hezekiah. He turned and gave me his bright smile. I smiled back, even as more tears filled my eyes. It was Ruth who called out to me.

  “We love you, Sarah.”

  I waved back. “I love you too. Safe travels to you all.”

  “I’m going to miss you,” Hezekiah shouted out.

  I couldn’t resist it anymore. To hell with the tears. I ran up to the wagon and kissed Hezekiah hard on his cheek. He hugged me back. Then I felt Ruth’s arms around me. And others. More arms, more hugs.

  “Mrs. Montague, we must get moving. The general…” one of the soldiers said.

  I took one final hug from all of them, then pulled myself away. “You all must go now. Don’t look back. Just go.”

  As the driver lashed the horses, I looked up with my eyes burning. I saw tears and smiles back at me. I wanted desperately to run after them, but I knew they had to go. Anything else and I was dooming them to a fate worse than death, or death itself.

  And I saw my Sallie, her back straight, hat balanced perfectly on her head. She was perched next to the driver. She didn’t look back, but her white-gloved hand waved to me. I knew…she knew…and there was so much love between us that this little wave was enough.

  As the carriages drove down the long oak-lined path, I kept my smile and I continued to wave. Once the carriages turned left and aimed toward the coast, I ran into the house, up the stairs, and to my room. There I cried for what seemed like days. I cried the most gut-wrenching cries I’d let out of me in several years…since my arrival to Montague Manor. I had said goodbye to the only family that mattered to me. All of them were gone, and, hopefully, would never return. I hoped they were on a path to freedom and safety. I hoped that the general would be true to his word and ensure safe passage for their ship. I hoped that Sallie could manage the sale of the cotton and the ship itself, and that it would be enough to grant everybody a new and better life. Education for the children. Decent jobs and respect for the adults. Homes of their own. Plenty to eat. Being treated as equals in a world that wasn’t friendly to their race.

  I must have fallen asleep. When I woke, there was a soft knocking at the door.

  “Yes?” I called out, quickly sitting up and trying to arrange myself.

  “Mrs….um…Sarah, it’s me.”

  I stood up and opened the door. I knew he would understand. He stood there in the doorway, tall and spare. His smile was broad. His boots were muddy.

  “Hello,” I said, trying to fake a smile, though I was very glad to see him.

  “I just wanted to let you know that the ship left port at about noon. I watched until it cleared the blockade. It is safely on its way to New York. Should arrive in three days.”

  I could feel my heart flutter. “Thank you,” was all I could say. I felt a weird mix of extreme happiness and utter sadness.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, and his smile faded to concern.

  “Yes…yes…I’m sorry…” I realized I must’ve looked frightful. I tried to think of something positive to say to him, but nothing came.

  “I understand…you loved them, and now you’re sad they’re gone.”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  I was shocked when he reached with both hands and held my shoulders. He seemed so large, so powerful. His eyes burned even in the dim light. “You must understand that what you did for them may have saved their lives and at least given them a great opportunity in the North.”

  I felt myself blushing. I couldn’t look him in the eyes at this close distance. I looked down to my shoes. “I know…you’re right. I feel so helpless, not knowing how they’ll fare in the big city of New York.”

  “Well, things are hard all over with this war. But you’ve given them a head start, and the cotton will sell quickly, I’m sure. There’s been a shortage since the war.”

  I looked up into his eyes, and I felt a warmth I hadn’t felt before. It was a different warmth. A warmth in my heart and then lower. A fluttering feeling that made me feel relaxed and tense at the same time. I finally looked up and into those cobalt eyes of his. I felt the strength of his hands on my shoulders. Both made me want to surrender to him. I could feel his power, his manliness. It made me want to give in to him.

  He didn’t let go, and for a moment I felt like I didn’t ever want him to. But I was a married woman. In the South. He was a widowed general of the North. All the societal pressures hit me at once like a slap in the face, and I pulled away, just enough that his hands fell to his sides. Doing my duty as a woman felt harder than it should have.

  I straightened myself and brushed the front of my dress. “I cannot thank you enough for your kindness. It means more to me than you can ever know. You have helped my family reach safety, and I will be forever in your debt.”

  A look of disappointment crossed his face. He stood there for a moment looking at me, as if waiting for me to say something. He was dark and shadowy in the candlelight. His broad shoulders seemed to loom over me. I had words I wanted to say, but they wouldn’t come up and out of me. When I didn’t reply, he put on a fake smile, nodded, turned, then walked to the stairwell. I then closed the door and fell back to my bed.

  1864 – Love and a Letter

  For the next few days, Owen spent most of his days in the field. The weather turned harsh, and he was out seeking shelters for his men and officers, which often meant boarding large groups of them in the homes of my neighbors. During the day, many soldiers would be in my home, huddled near the fireplaces. Some would even spend the night, though Owen kept the house to just us most of the time. He would arrive late at night, soaked to his skin, shivering. He ate little and mostly sat by the fire, trying to get the feeling back in his frozen body. He smoked and drank quietly.

  Around us now we saw the soldiers who had stayed camped outside the city. When the weather cleared, the men didn’t return to their tents in the fields. Instead, they march
ed in formation throughout our city streets. Long columns of blue coats. Stripes on sleeves and bars on shoulders. He would lead these columns of men: marching, drilling, rifle practice in Forsyth Park. An army of occupation right in the streets of Savannah.

  I didn’t have to hear it spoken. I knew what my neighbors felt. I could see them standing on their porches, watching with disgust. I knew the anger inside them. These were my people, after all. I knew what they would feel. And it was hate. Hate for these soldiers. Hate for the change in the fortunes of war. Hate for the undeniable, inevitable end to their way of life. Hate for the change that roared down on them like a fast train, onrushing, not to be stopped.

  On the 25th of November, the weather again turned bitterly cold, and Owen gave his soldiers the day to stay warm by the fires of their boarding. He built a large fire in the manor and sat there with his pipe. That’s where I found him. Sitting erect. Lighting his bowl. He smiled when I came in.

  “Hello, Mrs. Montague.” He stood up.

  I was surprised. “Are we returning to formal titles, General?” I curtsied to show him I was prepared to do just that.

  “I wasn’t sure how you felt…” He hesitated. “Our last conversation…”

  “I’m sorry…I was feeling the loss of my dear friends. Please don’t take my feelings that day as indicative of any change.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” His smile was bright. “I have something I’m sure you’ll want.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. I knew what it was before he told me. “A courier brought it to me this morning. It’s from Sallie.”

  I almost jumped out of my chair. I took the letter quickly and quite unseemly. I opened it with trembling hands.

  24 November, 1854

  My Dearest Sarah,

  I hope this letter finds you well. We arrived yesterday early in the morning. Upon our arrival, General Bradley’s men put us in contact with a cotton buyer. We received top dollar for the cotton you sent with us, as there has been a shortage up here. We are currently housed in a tavern near the port, but with the money you sent and the proceeds from the cotton I am eyeing some land just outside the city. I am looking for a buyer for the ship. I’m told the military needs transport craft, so I believe this will present some opportunities for a quick sale.

  Most of all, I want you to know we are fine and healthy. Several of our men have been approached about serving in a unit for the Union army. It would give us an opportunity to fight against the forces of oppression. The ladies, of course, are worried about their men leaving so soon after our arrival.

  I am wiping the tears from my eyes as I write you. I cannot tell you how much I miss you. Everybody here talks of you and the great service you have given us. I find myself wanting to book passage back so that I can be by your side should something happen. Please write to me when you are able.

  Yours always, with love,

  Sallie Montague

  On behalf of seventy-five others

  I read the letter over several times. I was wiping away tears as I read it. When I finally put the letter down, I saw Owen smiling at me.

  “You and Sallie certainly have a special bond,” he said.

  “Yes. You have to understand: she is closer than a sister to me.”

  “How did your friendship form?” With his open hand, he beckoned me to sit across from him.

  I was shy about sharing some details. I gave him an abridged response. “When I came to Montague Manor, I was only fifteen years old. My father died a few years ago, and I hardly hear from my mother. Sallie is the only person who has been with me since I first came here. She’s the only person I truly trust.”

  “How about your husband?” Right after he said it, he blanched. “I’m sorry, please forget I asked that.”

  “No, it’s fine. I don’t blame you for being curious. As you know, the Colonel is much older than I am. He lost his wife of many years. I’m his second wife. So….”

  “So you don’t feel close to a man who is many years older than you.” His eyes looked right into me as he said this. I blushed.

  “Many decades.”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah. I have no right to know anything more.”

  “No, now that Sallie is gone, you’re the only person I can speak with. I’m glad you know.”

  “You are?” He turned up his mouth in that crooked smile I had grown to love.

  “Yes,” I said. I couldn’t make eye contact with him. “I am happy to have a friend in these troubled times. I am happy to have someone I can share with.”

  “I am definitely that…someone you can share with.” And then he leaned forward, cobalt eyes making my heart pound. “I know this is forward of me, Sarah, and I apologize for it in advance.”

  In my heart, I didn’t want him to go further. I didn’t want to know.

  “I have developed feelings for you, Sarah Montague. I know you’re a married woman, so I am trying to make arrangements to find another home in Savannah in order to avoid making you feel awkward.”

  “Owen, I don’t—”

  “Please, let me finish. Since the death of my wife, I have been hollow. A fire of torment has destroyed who I am inside. I have burned away all the love and compassion that make me want to live. Before I came to your home, I have come close to ending my own life on several occasions.”

  “Oh dear Lord…”

  “But that all changed when I met you. I saw your life. I saw your spark. You are a pistol of a woman. Not to be trifled with, for sure. When I see that spark inside you, I can’t help but love you.”

  I opened my mouth to speak to him…to protest, as this was proper.

  “Please, you don’t have to say it. I know you’re a married woman. In Savannah. I understand how it would look. I understand just being here alone with you will create problems for you. That’s why I’m searching for another home in the city.”

  “Owen, you don’t…”

  “I hope to find a place by tomorrow. I am working with my sergeant-at-arms to find something. But I did want you to know that of all the people I’ve met, your decency and kindness have made me very happy.”

  I couldn’t say anything when he finished. I looked down to my clasped hands. I was nervously wringing them. I looked up again, and he smiled. A wan smile. A defeated smile. I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t have the words.

  He knocked out the ashes from his pipe, stood up, and buttoned the top of his long blue coat.

  “I have to visit General Sherman this morning. I won’t be back until the late afternoon, I imagine.”

  “I’ll have dinner waiting for you.”

  “Thank you, Sarah.”

  I stood and faced him. I wanted to say something to him. To reach out to him. But I felt awkward. The quietness of the house. The sound of the icy wind outside. Something held me back. He walked past me and then out the front door.

  All that day, I fretted. I repeated his words in my head. I can’t help but love you, he had said. Perhaps he was just lonely. Perhaps he just wanted to be comforted while traveling. I didn’t know. I did know that he was right about one thing: any impropriety in Savannah would make me a pariah. A social outcast, or worse. I’d be the lowest of humanity. A subhuman. Consorting with the enemy? In a bitter war that was changing the way we lived? While I was new to the life of a landowning slaveholder, I was surrounded by people whose very existence depended on these ill-gotten gains. It wasn’t hard to see this was already doomed. But if I helped that, or even encouraged it with my physical powers, I’d be the worst form of traitor. I would have to move to avoid the horrible backlash.

  But I also knew that I loved him, and he said he loved me. I knew I could never love my husband, even though I lived a life of luxury compared to how I had lived before. The mere thought of him returning home from the war and physically touching me again made me want to vomit. His horrible teeth, tobacco drippings on his chin, mottled skin…I shuddered just thinking of him.

&
nbsp; I tried, unsuccessfully, to write a letter to Sallie and the others. I kept thinking of Hezekiah and his mother, Ruth, adjusting to the bustling life of New York City. I wondered how they were getting along. I wanted to ask lots of questions, but as I started to put pen to paper I would think of Owen. His strength. His fiery blue eyes. His broad shoulders and polite manners. His chiseled jawline. A voice like the rumbling of distant thunder.

  I began to think about how nice it would be to touch him. To hold him against me. I knew he would be a true man to me and consider my feelings. My pleasure. I knew that if we made love, he wouldn’t roughly violate me as the Colonel had. I knew I would matter to him and that if I gave him my body, he would treat it with love and respect. I felt goosebumps all over my skin as I thought of his strong body. I imagined what he would look like without his uniform. I knew his cheek would be rough, like toughened leather. I knew his arms would be strong and that his grasp would make me weak. I knew his kiss would have all the fire of those azure eyes.

  I had a meal on the table, but Owen didn’t return in the late afternoon. By evening, I put a napkin over his plate and left it at the table. I was in my room in my nightgown when I heard him return. I could hear him knocking the mud off his boots. I could hear him eat at the table. I could hear him move up the stairs to his room. I heard him linger near my door before moving down the hall to his own room.

  I waited, but not a sound.

  I lay on my bed, wishing he would throw open the door and take me. If he took me, I reasoned, I could absolve myself of any guilt. Any sound outside made me wonder if it was a knock at my door, or a soft call from his room. I wanted any reason to respond to him. I knew what that meant. I knew that this mere thought made me a Jezebel, willing to sell out my people. My homeland. My family and friends.

  I prayed to God with all my heart. Please God, help me strike this wanton passion from my heart. Help me to stay true. Help me stay pure for my husband.

  But it was no use. I felt the warmth inside me. I felt the need. The burning deep within me. I had to be desired. I had to be touched. I had to be taken. I wanted to give myself to a man who would take that gift and give me himself in return. I had to give myself to a man who I wanted in return. A free exchange of passion.