Chapter Five
Matthew took his hat off, finger-combed his hair, and waited patiently for Mrs. Beaton to fetch Abigail. After a long meeting with the other officers and planning for a possible assault he had decided he wanted to see her. He had wasted the bath he had taken the other day when the major had called for him and he did not want to waste the one he had taken today. He had a need to see and speak with her that he decided he could no longer ignore. What he did not understand was why he felt so nervous.
Looking around the parlor, he finally moved to one of the empty chairs and sat down. He hoped Mrs. Beaton would not take long to bring in Abigail. Matthew had the sinking feeling that it would not take long for his nervousness to turn into cowardice and he would run.
* * *
Abigail helped Julia back to bed then hurried to empty the basin the girl had been sick in. Either her few days away with her new husband had been too rowdy or it was the pregnancy. She decided she would ask the doctor why Julia was still having sickness when she was so far along in her pregnancy. At least the girl was now married, but there was still a chance people who knew she had carried the child before she wed could cut her.
“Is Julia still getting sick?”
Looking at the woman standing in the doorway, Abigail felt sure the woman was already suspicious about what really ailed Julia. “Illness rarely disappears in a day or two.”
“Well, do something for her before she spreads the disease.”
“I am doing all I can. Feeling better, Julia?” Abigail met Julia’s gaze and prayed her friend could read her demand for a positive answer.
“It passes. You always know what to do.”
“Thank you. Now stay here and rest until Robert comes for you. You may have some water and a few bites of this sandwich if you wish.” She stood up and stroked Julia’s hair from her face. “Just rest. It is what you need. I will see you later.”
Mrs. Beaton crossed her arms. “You have a gentleman waiting to see you, Abigail.”
“I do? Is it Boyd?”
“No. It is Lieutenant MacEnroy.”
“Matthew is here?”
“Lieutenant MacEnroy is waiting downstairs to speak with you.”
“I will be fine, Abbie,” said Julia. “Go see what he wants.”
Abigail took a moment to fix her hair then brush down her skirts before following Mrs. Beaton out of the room. She was surprised at the tumultuous mixture of anticipation and nervousness she felt. The man might have a simple question he needed answered.
Going down the hall and then the stairs with Mrs. Beaton made the knot in Abigail’s stomach grow even tighter. Did the woman always move so slowly? Abigail lectured herself about patience, then tried to convince herself that she did not care if Matthew had come just to ask a question or because he actually wanted see her.
When they reached the parlor Abigail tensed as she saw Matthew stand up. She noticed he looked nervous and, for some strange reason, that made her feel calm. As she left Mrs. Beaton’s side, Abigail smiled at him.
“Hello, Abbie,” he said quietly.
“Good to see you, Lieutenant. Would you like some coffee? Maybe a little cake?”
“Both would be most welcome.” He glanced toward Mrs. Beaton who appeared to be standing guard at the door. “If it would be no trouble.”
“None at all.” Abigail looked at Mrs. Beaton. “I can do it, Mrs. Beaton. There is no need for you to linger. I am sure you must have a great deal you would rather do. Perhaps visit the children?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing when the woman briefly looked horrified, then nodded and left.
Smiling faintly, Abigail looked back at Matthew. He was watching her warily, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Why did she look as if ye were about to hand her a dead rat when ye spoke of her going to see the children?”
“To her it is apparently much the same. I fear Mrs. Beaton does not like children. She considers them disruptive and destructive. They are kept in a room upstairs. I will be right back with the coffee and cake.”
Matthew watched her leave. She had a strong, brisk way of walking with no hint of coquettishness. Then he looked at the doorway where Mrs. Beaton had stood. He had had no idea that the children were being kept regulated to a room upstairs. They had been put here because the major had believed the women would care for them. Being treated like unwanted guests could not be good for them. They had all lost their families and homes, were frightened and alone. It had never occurred to him or the other men that the women would not care for them. That had probably been foolish of them, and someone should have come around now and then to check on them. Matthew made a promise that he would keep a much closer watch now.
He settled back into the chair and thought about all he and James had discovered yesterday. There was an attack being planned. The only thing they could not be sure of was where and when it would happen. Plans were being made to further secure the town and the people in it. He realized he would need a better place for the women than this house with all its windows and doors, and began to think on an answer to that problem. He was just deciding the jailhouse would serve well when he heard the clink of china, looked up, and saw Abigail returning with a tray.
Abigail held the heavy tray as steady as she could. Mrs. Beaton’s coffeepot was heavy and she suspected it was made of actual silver. When Matthew walked toward her she just smiled as he took the tray from her. She subtly rubbed her arms when he turned to walk over to the small settee. Seeing that he obviously thought they would sit together, she took a deep breath and went over to sit at one end of the settee.
She tried not to flinch when he sat close to her. A soldier would see a flinch as a sign of fear, and that was certainly not what she felt. There was a tickle of nerves and it was curiously mixed with anticipation. She wished she had had more dealings with men for she suspected there was a good explanation for what she felt.
She poured them each some coffee and served pieces of the cake. She idly noticed that Mrs. Beaton had left the door wide open with the doors to the main sitting room also wide open. She could see straight through to the other women. Maude even sent her a jaunty wave. Privacy was apparently not allowed. Watching Matthew from the corner of her eyes, she hid a smile behind the drinking of her coffee as he ate his cake. It was clear that even the officers did not get such treats often. He was eating that bit of cake as if he had been starved for days.
Matthew put his empty plate down and drank some coffee before looking at Abigail. “Is living here working well for ye?”
“I suppose. It is not perfect, that is certain, but most of the ladies are nice and the children are dears.”
“Let me guess. Mrs. Beaton is not one of those ‘most of the ladies.’”
Abigail sighed. “No. She still thinks and acts as if she is the lady of the manor. It appears I upset the proper order of things much too often.”
“When we finish our coffee we could go for a walk and you can tell me how disruptive ye are.”
She nodded even as she laughed. Once they were done, she put everything back on the tray and took it back to the kitchen. By the time she returned, Matthew was standing in the hall holding her coat.
“Is it cold enough for this?” she asked even as she slid it on and buttoned it up.
“There is still a bite in the air when it gets late in the day.”
“Ah, of course. I missed much of winter hiding in this house huddled before a fireplace.”
“Lucky you. Most of the misery should be over soon.”
“I hope so.” She hooked her arm through his and they headed out the door.
“Most of the snow is gone. That has been hard on the soldiers, seeing as so much of our time is spent lying on the ground shooting at the other side. But I can feel the change of season.”
“Aye, so can I. Glad we are not stationed in Maine or some state like that.” He smiled when she laughed. “Here we see the warming faster.”
It was a pretty small town, Abigail decided. Even with the trees stripped by the cold, it was nice. It made her sad to think of all that was happening around it. The field behind the general store was filling up with the dead, chosen as the burial spot when the Union arrived and started holding it for the Union. The cemetery held both sides, gray and blue. The whole thing seemed like such a senseless tragedy to her.
Deciding an evening spent arm in arm with a handsome man was not a time to consider such serious thoughts. She glanced at Matthew and noticed he kept a close watch for any threat. Even a walk was dangerous, she thought, and shook her head.
“So where are we going?”
“No idea,” said Matthew, and he grinned at her. “Not many places to walk in this town and probably not verra safe outside it. So it is up one side of the street and down the other.”
“How adventurous of us.”
“Verra. Or”—his smile grew wider—“we could duck down an alley.”
Before she could answer that, he took a sharp turn to the right and walked between two deserted buildings. Very little of the fading day’s light entered here and she held his arm with both hands. It was a pleasant alley compared to the ones she had been down occasionally in Pennsylvania. It appeared to have grass instead of scattered trash and dirt.
“Why are we down here?” she asked.
“Privacy.”
“So you keep saying, but I saw no one on the street.”
“They could be peering out the windows. Everyone likes to ken who is walking around outside, especially in the evening.”
Abigail nodded, easily able to understand that. She suspected it was not just the war that made a small town always curious about who was where and what they were doing. Now it could be a matter of life and death, however. She suspected not even the soldiers in blue were fully trusted. Many people sympathized with the South; they just did not feel inclined to fight about it. They also had enough sense to keep their sympathies quiet.
Matthew wrapped his arms around her and walked her backwards until her back was up against the wall. She looked at him and he held her stare for a moment as if looking for a refusal then smiled when he found none.
His mouth covered hers before Abigail could make up her mind about accepting or refusing. The moment his tongue entered her mouth she knew she was all for accepting. For a while they just kept kissing, breaking for air now and then as he spread hot kisses over her throat.
Still reeling from his kiss, Abigail said nothing as he tugged her around the corner and into the deserted house she had been leaning against. “Why are we in here?”
“Privacy. We rarely have any.” He led her into what must have been the parlor. “This family ran from here a day after we marched in. Knew the Rebs would follow and there would be a fight, I suppose. They headed east so think one of them had family there.”
“They are lucky it hasn’t been burned down.”
“It’s empty. Fire is usually set to drive the people shooting at you out of the house.”
“Ah, of course.”
“Now, I have set up a wee feast for us here. A picnic, if ye would rather call it that.”
“In this house?”
“Aye. It is cold outside.” He moved to light a lantern standing on a table near the door.
Abigail let him take her by the hand and lead her into the room where a table was set against the far wall. As she took the seat he held out for her she saw the two place settings and two wineglasses. There was bread, butter, cheese, and some slices of cold chicken. The big surprise was the bottle of wine he picked up and started to open.
It was mostly soldier fare, which made Abigail smile. She did wonder where he had gotten the chicken as she doubted there was a live one left for miles around. Soldiers scrounging were as bad as locusts. The bottle of wine and the glasses puzzled her even more. Alcohol, except for the occasional home brew, had been gone from the town long ago.
“Where did you find the wine and glasses?”
“The glasses were here so I have to be sure to put them back. Mabel gave me the chicken and cheese, and the bread is from the woman who bakes for the officers when we can get her the supplies.”
“Do you get the supplies often?”
“Nay. Too many of the men who drive the wagon from where they get it loaded are killed and then the wagon is stolen with all the supplies. Someone was letting the Rebs ken when and where the wagon was. I think we stopped that, but we also send men out to guard the wagon on its way here. It is a dangerous assignment.”
“I can imagine it is for the Rebs have to be as hungry as you and your men.”
“More so. Their supplies are harder to get.”
For a while they ate and talked idly about the war. Mostly they discussed the differences between the armies. She felt sad for all the widows being made and all the parents who would never see their sons again. It all seemed such a waste to her and it was nearly destroying life in the hills.
She sipped at her wine and decided it was tasty then drank it all down. As she set the glass down she noticed Matthew grinning at her. He refilled her glass but only partway.
“What are you finding so amusing?” she asked as she put some chicken on her bread and took a bite.
“Have ye ever had any wine?”
“I do not believe so. Had a bit of whiskey once and went to sleep for a few hours.” She smiled faintly at the memory. “Da kept his whiskey locked up after that.”
Matthew rubbed his hand over his mouth as he fought not to laugh. “Then I think ye should be careful with the wine. Always best to go slow, take time to learn what and how much ye can drink and still remain sensible.”
“Oh.” She cautiously sipped the wine. “It does not taste as mighty as the whiskey did.”
“Nay, but enough of it can be.”
“That seems a shame.” She had another bite of her food. “How did you find out about it all?”
“By getting mightily drunk on several occasions. Nay verra proud moments for me. My brothers take great pleasure in reminding me of each and every one.”
Abigail laughed then suddenly thought of her brother and her amusement fled. “My brother was just reaching that age when the Rebs came and took him.”
He reached across the table and stroked her clenched hands. “I hope, for your sake, he returns from this war and finds ye.”
“So do I. It is difficult at times to accept that I have lost my whole family.”
“I am sorry for that, lass,” he said quietly. “I was lucky to settle here with all my brothers, but my parents were killed before we reached a place to settle. My elder brother, Iain, is the one I praise for that success. I believe he carries a few scars on his heart though. We have a stockade around our house.” He smiled faintly at her look of surprise. “We get travelers wanting to spend a night or two inside the walls because they think it is a fort.”
He shared the last of the bread and cheese with her. Matthew finished off his wine as she told him a few stories about her brother and he told her a few about his. When she began to quietly sip her wine, he collected up what he needed to return to its place in the house and cleared off the table. Then he moved to her side, took her by the hand, and led her to a large settee draped in cloths to keep off the dust.
As she sat down, a little surprised by the lack of a cloud of dust rising up, Abigail watched Matthew. They had had a pleasant meal and she was curious about what he planned to do now. She thought it strange that she was feeling nervous now, after an enjoyable dinner. When he sat down next to her, she took another sip of wine and then turned away to set the glass on a table next to the settee. When she turned back he was right there at her side and her heart made that odd little skip again that continued to surprise her.
Matthew could think of nothing to say so he just tugged her into his arms and kissed her. She returned his kiss with an eagerness that had him hardening nearly to the point of pain. He was going to have her tonight if she allowed it. If not, he knew it would happen soon. No one could return a kiss with the eagerness she returned his unless their blood was stirred as much as his was.
Abigail was getting drunk on his kisses. She did not complain when he inched her body down until he could lie on top of her because she liked the feel of his hard body on top of her, particularly the part he settled so eagerly between her legs. She knew she ought to be shocked, and a tiny part of her mind was, but most of her was delighting in the proof of how much he hungered for her.
When he began to kiss her neck, pausing to occasionally stroke it with his tongue, she became aware of the fact that he was undoing the buttons on her bodice. A little clarity came to her thoughts and Abbie considered the fact that she should stop him. Then he brushed a kiss over the top of one breast while massaging the other. Such a wide range of feelings were stirred inside of her, she was unable to say a word and certainly not the word stop.
“Lieutenant? Miss Jenson?”
Abbie struggled to sit up and an already standing Matthew pulled her up by one hand. She hurried to do up her gown and was just combing her fingers through her hair when Mabel came to the doorway. She knew the woman could guess what she had been doing but forced herself not to blush as she tied her hair with the ribbon that had fallen out at some point.
“What is it, Mabel?” she asked, pleased with the calm evident in her voice.
“We can’t find Noah.”
“What? Where could he go?”
Mabel started twisting her hands together. “We do not know, which is why I was sent to find you. I knew you were here because the lieutenant had mentioned it when he collected up the things I had put aside for him. I am sorry I had to interrupt your time together.”
Abigail waved that aside. “Don’t fret over that. Just tell me when Noah vanished.” When Matthew held out her coat, she quickly put it on, keeping her eyes fixed on Mabel.
“He was just in his room; he went up there after lingering in the kitchen for a while. All the lightning bugs were out behind the house and the child could not stop watching them. It was not until they moved farther down the hill that he left. He said he was tired and since he is still growing he knows he should get his sleep at night.”
“Oh, dear.”
“What?” asked Matthew.
“I have begun to learn that when Noah mentions how he is growing, he is after something,” said Abbie, and she smiled apologetically at Matthew. “This was very nice, but I think I better go and see what the child has done.”
He took her arm and Mabel’s and started toward the door. “Ye have some idea of where the lad might be?”
“I think I might. I shall just have to have a look.”
“I will help ye look.”
She did not refuse the help for she just might need it. “Why come for me, Mabel?”
“Because the boy has taken to you. Thought you must have spent a lot of time with him so you might know what he has done.”
“Oh, I have a good idea, and it could well be the end of his ‘growing.’” Abigail smiled when Mabel laughed.
When they reached the house, Abbie asked Matthew to wait for her and hurried up the stairs to check the children’s rooms then her own. She trudged back down and headed for the kitchen. She knew the child had gone out after the lightning bugs, obviously forgetting there were all those nasty biting bugs out at night as well. It did not make her feel very kindly toward him that he was forcing her out into them just to find him.
“He came out here, didnae he?”
“He did. He loves the lightning bugs. Loves them so much he forgot about these,” she growled and slapped a mosquito that had landed on her arm.
She wandered down the hill and heard a scrambling noise in the brush. “Noah?”
“Abbie! Come see the bugs. There are so many of them.”
“I know,” she grumbled and accepted Matthew’s hand as she continued down the hill and kept slapping at the mosquitoes trying to feast on her.
She found the child crouched in the bushes, ajar in his hand already holding several lightning bugs. The fact that he had few mosquitoes around him annoyed her. The traitorous things left him and headed for her.
“What are you doing, young man?” She could tell by the way his small shoulders stiffened that he knew he was in trouble.
“Catching lightning bugs. My mother used to do it with me and then we would set the jar in my room and snuff the light out. It was nice.”
She gently touched his hair. “It sounds it. A very nice memory to have and hold close. But you should have told one of the adults that you were doing it. They thought you were in your room and got terribly worried when they could not find you.”
“Oh. I am sorry.”
“Well, I think you will have to say so to them.”
“Now?”
“Yes, because although you and Matthew don’t seem to be having any trouble with all these silly biting things . . .”
“Skeeters,” Noah said and grinned. “They are skeeters.”
“Fine. I see them as the Devil’s minions and they are feasting on me so we will go back inside.” When the boy did not immediately move she said, “Now.”
Noah got up with a heavy sigh and screwed the cap onto his jar tightly. To her annoyance, he scrambled up the hill with ease while she practically had to have Matthew drag her up. Once inside the kitchen she listened to Noah very politely apologize to Mabel as she took the time to help Abbie wash off her arms. Abbie took the damp cloth, rinsed it out, and carefully wiped her face. She did not look forward to tomorrow when all the bites she had gotten would begin to itch. As she dabbed herself dry and smoothed on some cream Mabel gave her she sent Noah up to bed promising she would be along in a moment.
“Those skeeters really liked you,” said Mabel, and Matthew grinned as he nodded.
“I know. Wretched things. Well, I thank you for a very nice evening, Matthew. Now I best go have a chat with Mr. I Am A Growing Boy.”
He kissed her quickly and nodded at Mabel before leaving. Abbie could not fully suppress a sigh. She felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment that they had been interrupted.
The moment she reached the children’s room Noah smiled at her where he was tucked neatly up in his bed. The rest of the children were asleep, or pretending to be so she spoke quietly to Noah. Not only did she not want to disturb them if they were sleeping, but did not wish to scold Noah in a way that could lead to teasing later if they were not really asleep.
“I understand your fascination with these bugs but it was wrong to go outside without letting anyone know what you were doing.” She held up her hand to stop his words when he opened his mouth. “I know you are growing but you are not grown, certainly not grown enough to go out at night all on your own and with no one knowing where you are.”
“How grown do I have to be?”
“A lot more than you are now. Something else, dear. You will have to let the bugs go in the morning.”
“Why?”
“Because they will die in that jar.”
He gave the jar a horrified glance. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
She sighed. “Because the ones I caught died in the jar. They are not made to be held in ajar to light up a room.”
“You used to catch lightning bugs?”
“I did. My da would go with me.”
“Okay. I will set them free in the morning. ’Night, Abbie.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What else will you not do?”
“Go out without letting anyone know I am and where I am going.”
“Very good.” She kissed his cheek and made her way to her own room.
“Did you find him?” asked Julia as Abbie began to undress.
Startled, Abbie swung around to stare at the woman. “You startled me. I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. Almost. It is difficult to get comfortable at the moment. So, find him?”
“Yes. He was out back catching lightning bugs.”
“Oh, I did that a few times when I was very young.”
“So did I, but I believe he is now clear on the fact that he needs to tell someone what he is doing so they don’t panic when they can’t find him. And that it would be a good idea not to go out alone.”
“Oh, good.” Julia closed her eyes. “People were afraid and worried that the major would get angry since he gave the children into our care.”
Climbing into bed, Abbie fought to relax. She was growing too close to young Noah. That could cause him pain when she had to leave. She had little doubt it would cause her some. Yet she doubted she would be able to draw back now. She smiled faintly when she thought how Noah would not allow it.
At some point soon, she would have to decide what she should do about the boy. She was not wed so could not really raise him as her child even if she found a home to take him to. It was sad, but she had to face facts. A young unmarried woman would have a difficult time raising a child, not to mention how suspicious it would make many about whether he was actually adopted, or whether it was just her trying to hide her own misdeeds by pretending he was.
Deciding such thoughts would make sleep difficult she turned her mind to Matthew. There were problems there too, but he was a bit more pleasant to think about. Abbie knew where they had been headed when Mabel had interrupted them, and she now feared she would have followed him there willingly. It was something she had to think about. Matthew had not even made any mention about how he felt about her, she thought crossly.
Flipping onto her back she stared up at the ceiling and sighed. Thinking about Matthew was not much better than worrying about Noah. It was going to be a very long night. She was getting very tired of those. She badly wanted to go back to a time when worries and fears did not disturb her rest.