Shenandoah Valley
Northern Virginia
1805 Local
Mac's hand closed protectively around the necklace as she looked from Deacon to Avis, "What is it?"
Avis stared at her intently, "Where did you get that?"
Leaning back a little from the intensity of Avis' gaze, Mac eyed her warily, "Annabel Simpson gave it to me."
"Why?"
"What?" Mac blinked, she hadn't been expecting that question either. On her lap, Roger turned up the volume of his purring. For some reason, she found it reassuring and absently began rubbing his neck with her free hand.
"Why did she give you that necklace?" Avis softened her tone although her focus remained intense.
Mac stared at her silently, thoughts racing through her head. What should she tell these two? Go with the whole story and get labeled a lunatic right off the bat or the truth in the strictest sense and tell them she had no idea what was going on in Annabel's head? Could she trust these people? What was so damn important about a necklace? For her, it was more of a talisman, an anchor to her previous life. A life she needed to get back to - Mac's conscience gave a little kick as Josiah's face flashed in front of her. Firmly, she pushed the thought of Josiah Rabb away. It was impossible, she was in love with Harm. She didn't belong here.
"Miss Sarah?" Deacon's voice was quiet and soothing.
She looked over at him, "I... I'm not sure. I was traveling and there was a storm. Annabel took me in. We had supper and then, since the storm seemed to be gone, I decided to keep going. Annabel didn't want me leave and when I wouldn't change my mind, she gave me the necklace. I tried to give it back, it's a family heirloom, but she insisted. Said I should come back to visit and to return the necklace then." She watched Deacon sit back with a puzzled look on his face. Avis still had the same intense expression. Mac took a deep breath, "Why are you so interested in this necklace?"
Avis had just opened her mouth to speak when Roger suddenly launched himself off Mac's lap with a yowl. Mac bit back a curse. In the fine tradition of cats, Roger had dug in his claws to get a solid grip for his take-off. She forgot about the pinpricks to her legs as she watched Avis and then Deacon leap to their feet almost as quickly.
"Wha... ?" was all she got out before Deacon was almost bodily lifting her out of the chair. Mac gritted her teeth, what the hell was going on? Avis flew to a window and then whirled back, "It's Corinna Simpson." She pointed to a narrow staircase in the corner that Mac hadn't noticed before. "Up to the servant's quarters! Hurry - I'll try to delay her."
"Come on, Miss Sarah," Deacon said quietly as he hurried her over to the stairs. "Go on now, I'll be right behind to give you a hand."
Mac hesitated, "Deacon, what's... ?"
He cut her off, "No time, Miss Sarah, please! I have to be back down in the kitchen." Without another word, Mac turned and started to climb. The staircase was steep and narrow and before she was halfway up, she was using her hands as well. Deacon stayed right behind her. The stair ended in a little, tiny attic room. The only light came from the window dormer. The dormer was also the only place where Mac could stand upright. It was stiflingly hot. There was a narrow bed shoved up against the eaves, reminding Mac of the bunks on the Watertown. Aside from a stool which doubled as a table for a candle, the room was depressingly bare.
Mac had reached the room on her hands and knees. She stayed on the floor, rolling on her side to look back at Deacon. He climbed just high enough so that his head cleared the opening. Putting his finger to his lips, he signaled for quiet and then quickly disappeared down the steps. She scooted over to the opening, hoping to get some inkling of what was going on. Between the climb and the heat, her heart was pounding and she was dripping with sweat. Mac took slow breaths, trying to get her heartrate down enough to hear something besides the loud beat of her pulse.
She heard the door open and Avis' voice gradually growing louder, "... have always admired your azaleas, Corinna. I don't know why I have such trouble with them."
A woman's voice replied, "They do take a certain touch, my dear. I would be pleased to help you with their care in the future. ... Oh hello, Deacon. I didn't realize you were still here."
"Hello, Miz Corinna." Deacon's baritone was as calm and soothing as ever.
"I needed to move some barrels in the barn and it was most fortuitous that Mr. Turner stopped by on his way home. I insisted that he have something to drink before he left." Avis' voice was equally calm.
"I see... well, that was most kind of Deacon." Even Mac could hear the dubious note in Corinna's voice, "Of course, once Avril's home, such things won't be a problem." There was a slight pause and then Corinna spoke again, "Deacon, I'd like to speak with Miss Avis." Mac felt herself bristle a bit at the tone that said that Deacon was expected to obey the implicit dismissal. Whoever this Corinna was, Mac was beginning to dislike her.
There was another pause and then Deacon's voice sounded, "I'd best be on my way, Miss Avis. You know how Chandra worries when I'm gone. I'll be back this way tomorrow if you need more help."
"Thank you, Deacon. Be sure to give Chandra my best." Avis' voice receded a bit and then came the sound of a door opening and closing.
As soon as the door closed Corinna started in, "Avis! You simply have to stop this type of behavior! People are talking enough as it is!"
"People will talk no matter what I do, I see no reason to change my ways now." It sounded like Avis had had this discussion before.
"No reason? No reason!! My dear, you are now engaged to my son. You know you're welcome to live with us until Avril comes home. There's no need for you to continue to stay out here by yourself. It's dangerous. Do you realize that this independence is beginning to seem more and more like stubborn willfulness? You cannot go about having men like Deacon Turner in your home without some sort of chaperone. What would Avril say if he heard of such a thing?" Mac's eyes had widened, this was Avis' future mother-in-law?
Avis laughed, "Probably much the same thing he's said whenever he's met Deacon Turner in this house. Would Chandra consider giving me cooking lessons?"
Corinna's voice was icy, "This is not a joke and I'll thank you not to treat it as one. You're doing Deacon a disservice acting the way you do. One day he'll forget his place with someone who is not as tolerant as I - someone like Hunter Milroy, and then where will he be?"
"Hopefully in a position to beat some much needed sense into Milroy. Honestly, Corinna, Deacon Turner is old enough to be my father and easily worth a dozen Hunter Milroys. Why shouldn't I talk to him?" Avis sounded tired. "Why shouldn't I talk to anyone who's interesting and intelligent?" There was a brief silence and Mac could visualize this Corinna winding up for a devastating reply. Surprisingly, Avis beat her to it. Her voice sounded different, "The storm is almost upon us, Corinna. It's going to sweep everything before it and nothing will be left as it was. We must bend to survive."
There was dead silence, Mac felt a prickle run down her spine. What had just happened? How had Avis found out about Sheridan? Deacon hadn't had time to tell her. The sound of a door slamming interrupted her thoughts and a few moments later, Avis' voice called up the steps, "Miss Sarah? It's safe to come down."
Easier said than done, Mac thought wryly. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and swung her legs onto the steps. Keeping one arm wrapped around her middle and the other hand braced on the wall, she cautiously made her way down.
Avis was standing by the table as Mac slowly descended into view. She turned around and her eyes widened. Hurrying over, she offered Mac a hand, "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I should have realized you might have other injuries." Her gaze traveled to the bruise on Mac's face as they made their way to a chair. "Would you like me to fetch the doctor?"
Mac sank down gratefully and then shook her head, "No, I'm just bruised. Moving around is hard right now."
"Who did this to you?" Avis sat down and looked at her sympathetically.
"His name is Ezra Caine and I suppose he's now officially a deserter from the Union Army." Mac kept her voice dispassionate. If she ever ran into that SOB again, hopefully, she would be armed.
"Did he... ?" Avis trailed off and waited.
"No," Mac shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "He thought I'd been fatally wounded and settled for hitting me before he left." Avis looked at her in surprise and although she didn't say anything, her eyes begged the question. Mac gave a small sigh and launched into the abbreviated version that she'd told Deacon.
They were both silent after Mac finished and then Avis stood up decisively, "I think I'll need to hear the entire story at some point but, at the moment, I'm afraid I've been remiss. You'd probably like to get cleaned up and then you can decide if you'd prefer to rest. You stay right there and I'll draw a bath for you." Mac sat and watched as she stoked the fire in the stove and put water on to boil. Then she pulled out a short but deep metal tub from the corner and positioned it in front of the fireplace. She disappeared down a hallway and returned with a stack of towels and a robe thrown over her shoulder. Next she began pumping water into a bucket and started filling the tub. In surprisingly short time for the effort involved, Avis turned and smiled at Mac, "It's ready."
Avis went back over to Mac and gave her a hand getting up. Returning to the tub, she quietly began assisting Mac in getting undressed. It didn't take long to divest herself of her clothes, Avis hissed in sympathy at the ugly bruise that covered the upper part of her abdomen. Mac glanced down at herself, this was her first look at her midsection as well. She'd been damn lucky that bullet hadn't killed her. She moved over to the side of the tub and Avis held onto her arm to steady her as she stepped in. Slowly, she lowered herself into the warm water and gave a grateful sigh. Mac couldn't remember the last time she'd had a real bath. While she was with Josiah and the regiment, her bathing had consisted of the wash basin and whatever streams were deep enough to swim/bathe in. It wasn't quite the same.
Twenty-three minutes later, Mac reluctantly decided she'd soaked long enough. Stretching out an arm, she snagged a towel from the stack Avis had placed near the tub and carefully stood up. She was just tying the robe around herself when Avis reappeared.
"Oh good," the young woman smiled, "I just finished preparing your room. Have you decided whether you'd like to lie down?"
Mac thought it over for a few seconds. The biscuits and cheese had taken the edge off her hunger and the bath had relaxed her enough that she thought she could sleep. "I think I'd like to lay down but I'd like to talk with you as well."
"No reason we can't do both, come along." Avis turned and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. She passed by a staircase and looked over her shoulder, "I put you in the downstairs bedroom. It's not as big but I thought it would be easier if you didn't have to negotiate the stairs."
Mac smiled, "Thank you." She followed Avis into a small but well-appointed corner bedroom. It had two windows, one facing south, the other facing west. There was a canopy bed up against the far wall with a large wardrobe in the corner. A nightstand with a pitcher and basin sat by the side of the bed and there was a wingback chair with a footstool in the corner. A small sidetable with a kerosene lamp was next to the chair. And there were bookcases; by the wardrobe, the shelves went all the way to the ceiling, the rest were three shelves high and scattered about wherever there was space. Mac stopped for a moment, "This is lovely."
"Thank you," Avis grinned, "As you can see, this is also my library. I have a passion for books that my father encouraged." She walked over to the bed, "I laid out a nightgown and some undergarments." Turning back to Mac, she eyed her critically, "We'll have to do something about dresses for you. We're about the same height, I think." Avis looked at Mac's chest, then down at her own and chuckled ruefully, "And there the similarity ends. I think I have one or two dresses that I can let out. We'll get something to fit." She gestured towards Mac's midsection, "For the time being, we'll have to stay away from tight-fitting bodices. You won't be able to tolerate a corset." Suddenly, she stopped, looking chagrined, "I'm sorry. Here I am prattling on and you'd probably like to lay down." Moving over to Mac, she deftly relieved her of the robe and helped with the nightgown. In a matter of minutes, Mac was in bed and propped up with pillows. Avis went to the wingback chair and dragged it over beside the bed. Settling in, she tilted her head to one side and smiled, "You wished to talk?"
Mac looked at her silently for a moment, marshaling her thoughts. Finally, she took a deep breath and started, "First, I'd like to thank you for your hospitality. I appreciate all you've done but I'm a little confused. Both you and Deacon, have gone to a lot of trouble to help and you don't even know anything about me. You've taken me into your home and, for all you know, I could be some deranged ax-murderer. And why was it so important that Corinna Simpson not know I was here?" Avis laughed, "I don't think you're a deranged ax-murderer, but we could turn that around. You've trusted me, so far, and I could be the deranged ax-murderer." Mac conceded the point with a smile, the young woman could have been a lawyer. Avis waved a hand, "As for Corinna, she's a terrible gossip and staunchly, rabidly Southern. Your accent would have been enough for her. She'd have the community in a frenzy in no time at all. That she came here at all says she suspects something. Probably because Thomas walked home from here - not that he'd say anything - but she obviously thought something was going on. Hopefully, having her catch Deacon in the house will put her on the wrong track."
Mac raised an eyebrow, "And she's your future mother-in-law?"
Avis smiled wryly, "Fortunately, her son is nothing like her." Her smile turned wistful, "He's serving under John B. Gordon and I pray daily for his safety. You couldn't ask for a finer man. Black hair, dark eyes and a smile that lights up your soul; a steady heart and generous nature, he makes me laugh more than he makes me cry. What more could you ask?"
"He sounds wonderful," Mac had a lump in her throat, thinking of Harm and how much she missed him. Suddenly, Josiah's face appeared in front of her and she closed her eyes. Stop it! You don't belong here.
"Sarah?" Mac opened her eyes to see Avis watching her. The young woman smiled, "What's your man like?"
Mac opened her mouth and then closed it. Finally, she smiled, "He's in the military, too. Tall, dark hair, sea-green eyes and a smile that's made me go weak in the knees more often than I'd like to admit. He's brave, loyal, honorable and loves me to the depths of his soul. It scares me sometimes, I don't know what I did to deserve him."
Avis looked at her with compassion, "You haven't seen him in some time." It wasn't a question.
Mac gave a short laugh, wiping at her eyes, "Shows, does it?" She sighed, "It's been 58 days and 17 hours."
"That just a rough estimate?" Avis' eyebrows quirked upward as she tried to stifle a grin. "Avril hasn't been home for about four months now but he writes often, although the letters don't always arrive. When they go into winter quarters, I'll be able to visit." She leaned back, tapping her chin, "You're welcome to stay here until we can find a safe way to get you home. Meanwhile, we'll need some way to explain your presence that won't have people throwing rocks at you." Avis fell silent. At length, she said, "With your coloring, you could almost pass for a Creole but I'm afraid you don't sound like one. Have you ever been to New Orleans?" Mac shook her head. "That won't work then," Avis sighed, "There's bound to be someone who has been there and they'll know if you're lying."
"I speak Russian and Farsi fluently, with a smattering of German, French and Japanese," Mac said helpfully.
She blinked when Avis clapped her hands and grinned, "Why, that's perfect, Sarah! No one here speaks Russian. I can't say I've ever heard of Farsi but that won't be important. I was abroad about five years ago. You can be someone I met while there and now you're returning the visit."
"Arriving without carriage or luggage? Looking like I've been in a brawl?" Mac asked dryly. "I'm not sure anyone will buy it."
Avis looked confused for a moment and then shook her head, "We'll use a version of what really happened to you. You were set upon by ruffians, tried to escape but your carriage overturned. Your driver died and they thought you were dead as well and left. Then Deacon found you, you told him my name and he brought you here." She sat back with a satisfied air, "That should answer any questions anyone might have."
Mac eyed her, "All but one, you still haven't told me why you're doing all this."
Avis regarded her thoughtfully, "You aren't distracted easily, are you?" She got up and moved to sit on the side of the bed. Reaching inside the collar of her dress, she pulled out a necklace and showed it to Mac.
Mac stared at it for a moment and then her eyes widened and her hand came up to clutch Annabel's necklace. Avis nodded, "That's how I felt when I saw yours." She reached up and unfastened hers and, after a moment, Mac did the same and laid both necklaces side by side. They were identical except for the fact that Mac's was considerably more worn. Avis fingered her necklace, "This was given to me on my christening day by my Godfather. He was a silversmith in Richmond. He made this especially for me, there are no others. I planned to hand it down to my daughter should I be so blessed." Mac felt the hair go up on the back of her neck. She looked at Avis silently. Slowly, Avis continued, still looking at the necklaces, "So I suppose my question shouldn't be 'where are you from?' but 'when are you from?'"
Mac's hand closed protectively around the necklace as she looked from Deacon to Avis, "What is it?"
Avis stared at her intently, "Where did you get that?"
Leaning back a little from the intensity of Avis' gaze, Mac eyed her warily, "Annabel Simpson gave it to me."
"Why?"
"What?" Mac blinked, she hadn't been expecting that question either. On her lap, Roger turned up the volume of his purring. For some reason, she found it reassuring and absently began rubbing his neck with her free hand.
"Why did she give you that necklace?" Avis softened her tone although her focus remained intense.
Mac stared at her silently, thoughts racing through her head. What should she tell these two? Go with the whole story and get labeled a lunatic right off the bat or the truth in the strictest sense and tell them she had no idea what was going on in Annabel's head? Could she trust these people? What was so damn important about a necklace? For her, it was more of a talisman, an anchor to her previous life. A life she needed to get back to - Mac's conscience gave a little kick as Josiah's face flashed in front of her. Firmly, she pushed the thought of Josiah Rabb away. It was impossible, she was in love with Harm. She didn't belong here.
"Miss Sarah?" Deacon's voice was quiet and soothing.
She looked over at him, "I... I'm not sure. I was traveling and there was a storm. Annabel took me in. We had supper and then, since the storm seemed to be gone, I decided to keep going. Annabel didn't want me leave and when I wouldn't change my mind, she gave me the necklace. I tried to give it back, it's a family heirloom, but she insisted. Said I should come back to visit and to return the necklace then." She watched Deacon sit back with a puzzled look on his face. Avis still had the same intense expression. Mac took a deep breath, "Why are you so interested in this necklace?"
Avis had just opened her mouth to speak when Roger suddenly launched himself off Mac's lap with a yowl. Mac bit back a curse. In the fine tradition of cats, Roger had dug in his claws to get a solid grip for his take-off. She forgot about the pinpricks to her legs as she watched Avis and then Deacon leap to their feet almost as quickly.
"Wha... ?" was all she got out before Deacon was almost bodily lifting her out of the chair. Mac gritted her teeth, what the hell was going on? Avis flew to a window and then whirled back, "It's Corinna Simpson." She pointed to a narrow staircase in the corner that Mac hadn't noticed before. "Up to the servant's quarters! Hurry - I'll try to delay her."
"Come on, Miss Sarah," Deacon said quietly as he hurried her over to the stairs. "Go on now, I'll be right behind to give you a hand."
Mac hesitated, "Deacon, what's... ?"
He cut her off, "No time, Miss Sarah, please! I have to be back down in the kitchen." Without another word, Mac turned and started to climb. The staircase was steep and narrow and before she was halfway up, she was using her hands as well. Deacon stayed right behind her. The stair ended in a little, tiny attic room. The only light came from the window dormer. The dormer was also the only place where Mac could stand upright. It was stiflingly hot. There was a narrow bed shoved up against the eaves, reminding Mac of the bunks on the Watertown. Aside from a stool which doubled as a table for a candle, the room was depressingly bare.
Mac had reached the room on her hands and knees. She stayed on the floor, rolling on her side to look back at Deacon. He climbed just high enough so that his head cleared the opening. Putting his finger to his lips, he signaled for quiet and then quickly disappeared down the steps. She scooted over to the opening, hoping to get some inkling of what was going on. Between the climb and the heat, her heart was pounding and she was dripping with sweat. Mac took slow breaths, trying to get her heartrate down enough to hear something besides the loud beat of her pulse.
She heard the door open and Avis' voice gradually growing louder, "... have always admired your azaleas, Corinna. I don't know why I have such trouble with them."
A woman's voice replied, "They do take a certain touch, my dear. I would be pleased to help you with their care in the future. ... Oh hello, Deacon. I didn't realize you were still here."
"Hello, Miz Corinna." Deacon's baritone was as calm and soothing as ever.
"I needed to move some barrels in the barn and it was most fortuitous that Mr. Turner stopped by on his way home. I insisted that he have something to drink before he left." Avis' voice was equally calm.
"I see... well, that was most kind of Deacon." Even Mac could hear the dubious note in Corinna's voice, "Of course, once Avril's home, such things won't be a problem." There was a slight pause and then Corinna spoke again, "Deacon, I'd like to speak with Miss Avis." Mac felt herself bristle a bit at the tone that said that Deacon was expected to obey the implicit dismissal. Whoever this Corinna was, Mac was beginning to dislike her.
There was another pause and then Deacon's voice sounded, "I'd best be on my way, Miss Avis. You know how Chandra worries when I'm gone. I'll be back this way tomorrow if you need more help."
"Thank you, Deacon. Be sure to give Chandra my best." Avis' voice receded a bit and then came the sound of a door opening and closing.
As soon as the door closed Corinna started in, "Avis! You simply have to stop this type of behavior! People are talking enough as it is!"
"People will talk no matter what I do, I see no reason to change my ways now." It sounded like Avis had had this discussion before.
"No reason? No reason!! My dear, you are now engaged to my son. You know you're welcome to live with us until Avril comes home. There's no need for you to continue to stay out here by yourself. It's dangerous. Do you realize that this independence is beginning to seem more and more like stubborn willfulness? You cannot go about having men like Deacon Turner in your home without some sort of chaperone. What would Avril say if he heard of such a thing?" Mac's eyes had widened, this was Avis' future mother-in-law?
Avis laughed, "Probably much the same thing he's said whenever he's met Deacon Turner in this house. Would Chandra consider giving me cooking lessons?"
Corinna's voice was icy, "This is not a joke and I'll thank you not to treat it as one. You're doing Deacon a disservice acting the way you do. One day he'll forget his place with someone who is not as tolerant as I - someone like Hunter Milroy, and then where will he be?"
"Hopefully in a position to beat some much needed sense into Milroy. Honestly, Corinna, Deacon Turner is old enough to be my father and easily worth a dozen Hunter Milroys. Why shouldn't I talk to him?" Avis sounded tired. "Why shouldn't I talk to anyone who's interesting and intelligent?" There was a brief silence and Mac could visualize this Corinna winding up for a devastating reply. Surprisingly, Avis beat her to it. Her voice sounded different, "The storm is almost upon us, Corinna. It's going to sweep everything before it and nothing will be left as it was. We must bend to survive."
There was dead silence, Mac felt a prickle run down her spine. What had just happened? How had Avis found out about Sheridan? Deacon hadn't had time to tell her. The sound of a door slamming interrupted her thoughts and a few moments later, Avis' voice called up the steps, "Miss Sarah? It's safe to come down."
Easier said than done, Mac thought wryly. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and swung her legs onto the steps. Keeping one arm wrapped around her middle and the other hand braced on the wall, she cautiously made her way down.
Avis was standing by the table as Mac slowly descended into view. She turned around and her eyes widened. Hurrying over, she offered Mac a hand, "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I should have realized you might have other injuries." Her gaze traveled to the bruise on Mac's face as they made their way to a chair. "Would you like me to fetch the doctor?"
Mac sank down gratefully and then shook her head, "No, I'm just bruised. Moving around is hard right now."
"Who did this to you?" Avis sat down and looked at her sympathetically.
"His name is Ezra Caine and I suppose he's now officially a deserter from the Union Army." Mac kept her voice dispassionate. If she ever ran into that SOB again, hopefully, she would be armed.
"Did he... ?" Avis trailed off and waited.
"No," Mac shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "He thought I'd been fatally wounded and settled for hitting me before he left." Avis looked at her in surprise and although she didn't say anything, her eyes begged the question. Mac gave a small sigh and launched into the abbreviated version that she'd told Deacon.
They were both silent after Mac finished and then Avis stood up decisively, "I think I'll need to hear the entire story at some point but, at the moment, I'm afraid I've been remiss. You'd probably like to get cleaned up and then you can decide if you'd prefer to rest. You stay right there and I'll draw a bath for you." Mac sat and watched as she stoked the fire in the stove and put water on to boil. Then she pulled out a short but deep metal tub from the corner and positioned it in front of the fireplace. She disappeared down a hallway and returned with a stack of towels and a robe thrown over her shoulder. Next she began pumping water into a bucket and started filling the tub. In surprisingly short time for the effort involved, Avis turned and smiled at Mac, "It's ready."
Avis went back over to Mac and gave her a hand getting up. Returning to the tub, she quietly began assisting Mac in getting undressed. It didn't take long to divest herself of her clothes, Avis hissed in sympathy at the ugly bruise that covered the upper part of her abdomen. Mac glanced down at herself, this was her first look at her midsection as well. She'd been damn lucky that bullet hadn't killed her. She moved over to the side of the tub and Avis held onto her arm to steady her as she stepped in. Slowly, she lowered herself into the warm water and gave a grateful sigh. Mac couldn't remember the last time she'd had a real bath. While she was with Josiah and the regiment, her bathing had consisted of the wash basin and whatever streams were deep enough to swim/bathe in. It wasn't quite the same.
Twenty-three minutes later, Mac reluctantly decided she'd soaked long enough. Stretching out an arm, she snagged a towel from the stack Avis had placed near the tub and carefully stood up. She was just tying the robe around herself when Avis reappeared.
"Oh good," the young woman smiled, "I just finished preparing your room. Have you decided whether you'd like to lie down?"
Mac thought it over for a few seconds. The biscuits and cheese had taken the edge off her hunger and the bath had relaxed her enough that she thought she could sleep. "I think I'd like to lay down but I'd like to talk with you as well."
"No reason we can't do both, come along." Avis turned and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. She passed by a staircase and looked over her shoulder, "I put you in the downstairs bedroom. It's not as big but I thought it would be easier if you didn't have to negotiate the stairs."
Mac smiled, "Thank you." She followed Avis into a small but well-appointed corner bedroom. It had two windows, one facing south, the other facing west. There was a canopy bed up against the far wall with a large wardrobe in the corner. A nightstand with a pitcher and basin sat by the side of the bed and there was a wingback chair with a footstool in the corner. A small sidetable with a kerosene lamp was next to the chair. And there were bookcases; by the wardrobe, the shelves went all the way to the ceiling, the rest were three shelves high and scattered about wherever there was space. Mac stopped for a moment, "This is lovely."
"Thank you," Avis grinned, "As you can see, this is also my library. I have a passion for books that my father encouraged." She walked over to the bed, "I laid out a nightgown and some undergarments." Turning back to Mac, she eyed her critically, "We'll have to do something about dresses for you. We're about the same height, I think." Avis looked at Mac's chest, then down at her own and chuckled ruefully, "And there the similarity ends. I think I have one or two dresses that I can let out. We'll get something to fit." She gestured towards Mac's midsection, "For the time being, we'll have to stay away from tight-fitting bodices. You won't be able to tolerate a corset." Suddenly, she stopped, looking chagrined, "I'm sorry. Here I am prattling on and you'd probably like to lay down." Moving over to Mac, she deftly relieved her of the robe and helped with the nightgown. In a matter of minutes, Mac was in bed and propped up with pillows. Avis went to the wingback chair and dragged it over beside the bed. Settling in, she tilted her head to one side and smiled, "You wished to talk?"
Mac looked at her silently for a moment, marshaling her thoughts. Finally, she took a deep breath and started, "First, I'd like to thank you for your hospitality. I appreciate all you've done but I'm a little confused. Both you and Deacon, have gone to a lot of trouble to help and you don't even know anything about me. You've taken me into your home and, for all you know, I could be some deranged ax-murderer. And why was it so important that Corinna Simpson not know I was here?" Avis laughed, "I don't think you're a deranged ax-murderer, but we could turn that around. You've trusted me, so far, and I could be the deranged ax-murderer." Mac conceded the point with a smile, the young woman could have been a lawyer. Avis waved a hand, "As for Corinna, she's a terrible gossip and staunchly, rabidly Southern. Your accent would have been enough for her. She'd have the community in a frenzy in no time at all. That she came here at all says she suspects something. Probably because Thomas walked home from here - not that he'd say anything - but she obviously thought something was going on. Hopefully, having her catch Deacon in the house will put her on the wrong track."
Mac raised an eyebrow, "And she's your future mother-in-law?"
Avis smiled wryly, "Fortunately, her son is nothing like her." Her smile turned wistful, "He's serving under John B. Gordon and I pray daily for his safety. You couldn't ask for a finer man. Black hair, dark eyes and a smile that lights up your soul; a steady heart and generous nature, he makes me laugh more than he makes me cry. What more could you ask?"
"He sounds wonderful," Mac had a lump in her throat, thinking of Harm and how much she missed him. Suddenly, Josiah's face appeared in front of her and she closed her eyes. Stop it! You don't belong here.
"Sarah?" Mac opened her eyes to see Avis watching her. The young woman smiled, "What's your man like?"
Mac opened her mouth and then closed it. Finally, she smiled, "He's in the military, too. Tall, dark hair, sea-green eyes and a smile that's made me go weak in the knees more often than I'd like to admit. He's brave, loyal, honorable and loves me to the depths of his soul. It scares me sometimes, I don't know what I did to deserve him."
Avis looked at her with compassion, "You haven't seen him in some time." It wasn't a question.
Mac gave a short laugh, wiping at her eyes, "Shows, does it?" She sighed, "It's been 58 days and 17 hours."
"That just a rough estimate?" Avis' eyebrows quirked upward as she tried to stifle a grin. "Avril hasn't been home for about four months now but he writes often, although the letters don't always arrive. When they go into winter quarters, I'll be able to visit." She leaned back, tapping her chin, "You're welcome to stay here until we can find a safe way to get you home. Meanwhile, we'll need some way to explain your presence that won't have people throwing rocks at you." Avis fell silent. At length, she said, "With your coloring, you could almost pass for a Creole but I'm afraid you don't sound like one. Have you ever been to New Orleans?" Mac shook her head. "That won't work then," Avis sighed, "There's bound to be someone who has been there and they'll know if you're lying."
"I speak Russian and Farsi fluently, with a smattering of German, French and Japanese," Mac said helpfully.
She blinked when Avis clapped her hands and grinned, "Why, that's perfect, Sarah! No one here speaks Russian. I can't say I've ever heard of Farsi but that won't be important. I was abroad about five years ago. You can be someone I met while there and now you're returning the visit."
"Arriving without carriage or luggage? Looking like I've been in a brawl?" Mac asked dryly. "I'm not sure anyone will buy it."
Avis looked confused for a moment and then shook her head, "We'll use a version of what really happened to you. You were set upon by ruffians, tried to escape but your carriage overturned. Your driver died and they thought you were dead as well and left. Then Deacon found you, you told him my name and he brought you here." She sat back with a satisfied air, "That should answer any questions anyone might have."
Mac eyed her, "All but one, you still haven't told me why you're doing all this."
Avis regarded her thoughtfully, "You aren't distracted easily, are you?" She got up and moved to sit on the side of the bed. Reaching inside the collar of her dress, she pulled out a necklace and showed it to Mac.
Mac stared at it for a moment and then her eyes widened and her hand came up to clutch Annabel's necklace. Avis nodded, "That's how I felt when I saw yours." She reached up and unfastened hers and, after a moment, Mac did the same and laid both necklaces side by side. They were identical except for the fact that Mac's was considerably more worn. Avis fingered her necklace, "This was given to me on my christening day by my Godfather. He was a silversmith in Richmond. He made this especially for me, there are no others. I planned to hand it down to my daughter should I be so blessed." Mac felt the hair go up on the back of her neck. She looked at Avis silently. Slowly, Avis continued, still looking at the necklaces, "So I suppose my question shouldn't be 'where are you from?' but 'when are you from?'"