June 4, 1863
Culpeper Courthouse,
Virginia
Annie stood among a grove of ferns that had been dragged in to decorate the courthouse for the ball. It was a warm night, and she was flushed from dancing a spirited polka with a rather fat lieutenant who stomped on her toes. She flipped her carved ivory fan in front of her face, for the moment glad to watch the dancing parade before her and to ease her bruised toes out of her tight shoes. Honestly, she wished propriety didn’t insist that she accept all dance requests. That lieutenant was a horrible dancer! She smiled in understanding at his new partner as he turned her awkwardly past Annie. She recognized the sudden look of pain on the girl’s face. Yes, the lieutenant had found her toes as well!
Although the hall was dim from lack of candles, the faces before Annie were clearly visible, lit up from a joy within. There was a grand festivity to it all, a swell of hope-filled giddiness. Hundreds of handsome cavalry officers strode through the hall picking out Virginia beauties to squire. The dance floor itself was a swirl of bright colors—pink, yellow, turquoise, silver—as men waltzed their breathless partners around and around and around, hoopskirts swinging in unison, the rustling a backdrop to the band’s music.
Hanging from the high ceiling were Confederate flags and long banners of blue and white. Culpeper gardens had been completely emptied of their flowers, and the hall was filled with the strong scent of full-bloom roses, lilies, and peonies, competing with the spicy perfumes worn by the ladies—and some dandified gentlemen.
Enraptured, Annie took it all in, recognizing that she might not see the like again. As her eyes scanned the room, pausing at each satin dress, each golden sash and saber, they came to rest on the waltzing figures of Laurence and Charlotte. For a moment her happiness was dampened. She still was very angry at Charlotte, even though her friend had apologized, often in tears, at least a dozen times on their trip to Culpeper. She cocked her head and watched them. They did make a beautiful couple—Laurence so fair and lithe, Charlotte so dark and soft. Their eyes did not leave each other’s, even as other, less graceful couples bumped into them. Charlotte was clearly hanging on his every word and look. Annie had watched her duck behind the flower arrangements when other young gallants approached her to ask for a dance. She was saving herself for Laurence.
Annie sighed. She had burned to tell Laurence all about Charlotte’s foolish indiscretion when he’d asked for the engagement ring Annie had brought along. Did he really want to spend his life with someone who was so nosey and gossipy? But his boyish excitement had been too great to spoil. And how could she explain that poem to her big brother anyway? Instincts told her that Laurence would not approve of it, and that it could make him frosty toward his commanding general.
Besides, hadn’t Annie herself made mistakes before? There had been nothing malicious about Charlotte’s blunder. She knew that. Still, she would love to be able to just throw a real tantrum once in a while. All this ladylike self-containment and patient understanding was infuriating!
She looked at the dais at the front of the hall. There sat General Stuart with the town’s mayor and other Confederate army dignitaries. At the last moment General Robert E. Lee’s frantic schedule had kept him from the festivities. Annie knew Stuart was terribly disappointed. She had spoken to him briefly. The flash of genuine gladness that had come into his eyes at seeing her was buoying her through the night. She smoothed her skirt and touched her hair to make sure it was still held back by its wreath of flowers. She wore one of her mother’s dresses—thin white muslin atop an underdress of sky blue silk, with off-the-shoulders puffed sleeves, all trimmed with black velvet ribbon. She knew she looked pretty. But it was unlikely that Stuart would ask her to dance. And besides, Annie reminded herself harshly, he’s married.
“Will you give me the pleasure of a dance, Miss Sinclair?”
Annie jumped at the sound of a soft, lilting voice in her ear. She hadn’t heard anyone approach her from behind. She turned and faced William Farley.
Farley smiled at her shyly. “I am sorry if I startled you.”
“Oh, no, Captain Farley, not at all.” Annie blushed. He had large, light gray eyes, with long, dark lashes, and an open, pleasant face. “It must be your ability as a scout that allows you to move so silently.”
Farley held out his right hand, and she took it. There was something almost elegant about him as he led her toward the floor.
“Form lines for the Virginia reel!” shouted the caller from the band platform.
“Yeehaw!” yipped a few of the more exuberant youths as they grabbed girls and whirled them to the floor.
“Oh, dear.” Farley laughed. “This dance is not my forte.”
Annie happened to love the capering and swinging of the Virginia reel, the frothiness of the horn-pipe music. She’d brightened instantly at the call. But she tried to respect Farley’s reticence. “Well, if you’d rather wait,” she demurely said.
“Oh, no, Miss Sinclair. Just forgive me if I falter!” They took their place as the second couple in the line of dancers.
As the jaunty Irish jig began, the women and men took four quick steps forward, curtsied and bowed, and skipped back into place. A lady and man diagonally across from each other skimmed forward, joined left hands, and made a complete swirling turn. They do-si-doed, passing each other right shoulder to right shoulder. And as the head couple joined hands and chasséd, skip-sliding, down the line, the others clapped to the music, until it was their turn to pass through the line, turning it inside out on itself.
Annie laughed and gasped and smiled and flirted as she chasséd and twirled. This is what she had been missing and longing for—a night of being young and happy, like a foal feeling her oats and kicking up her heels. It was the first of many dances with Captain Farley, who actually turned out to be a deft dancer, supporting her with his arms but never drawing her too close for modesty and never ever stepping on her toes.
Over glasses of punch and moments out in the cooling night air, they talked about school and poetry. Even though he was from South Carolina, Farley had attended the University of Virginia, studying Shakespeare and the early English poets. Once, as they came out of the night into the music-filled hall, he smiled down at her and sheepishly quoted the playwright: “If music be the food of love…”
Annie glanced up into his eyes, blushed, and whispered back the line’s ending: “Play on.”
Farley smiled and took her hand for the waltz. Annie liked him. She liked his self-effacing manner, which made him so different from the many hotheaded bucks frolicking about her that night. So different from General Stuart.
As Captain Farley swept her around and around, making them one of a hundred pirouetting couples, perfectly in sync with one another, as if everyone in that room had the same heartbeat, the same glorious, swirling fate, Annie noticed Laurence and Charlotte stepping into the room. Her arm was hooked around his and he pressed his gloved hand atop hers. They beamed.
Annie knew. Laurence had asked. Charlotte had accepted. And it was all right. Tonight, for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.
“There he is! There!” Charlotte tugged on Annie’s arm and pointed. It was the next morning and time for the grand review, a military tradition that allowed commanding officers to assess the strength and readiness of the troops, but also served as a spectacular entertainment for civilians. Of course, some of the excitement was dampened by the fact that General Lee had been detained at his headquarters with pressing war plans. But Stuart planned to make up for Lee’s absence in show.
Below them, on a long vast hill, Stuart was surrounded by his staff. Their horses were spotless. Their gray uniforms were brushed clean, with brass so polished that it seemed the sun would reflect off their buttons. Bugles sounded to herald the fact that Stuart was about to begin his formal inspection of all his cavalry. This was really why all were gathered in Culpeper, although the dancing had been delightful, ending only a few hours before. Stuart wanted to show off his cavalry—their beauty, their prowess, their discipline, their superior horsemanship. Their number alone awed. The line Stuart would inspect stretched a mile. As he trotted his high-spirited mare along the ranks, other horses stamped in place. Bright flags snapped and billowed in the winds. Three bands played. The cavalry looked invincible.
Charlotte and Annie sat together in Annie’s carriage, surrounded by wagons and other townsfolk. Behind them a special train from Richmond had stopped on the tracks, and the passengers crammed themselves out through the open windows to watch. Charlotte had been holding Annie’s hand all morning, and now Annie broke loose to lift field glasses to her eyes.
She was thrilled to watch Stuart, of course, and interested in locating Captain Farley and Laurence among the thousands of spit-and-polish men before them, but what she looked for now was her horse. She wanted to make sure Angel was holding steady in all this crowd and fuss.
She ran the glasses up and down that long, long line, looking for glistening black and graceful white stockings. There! No. What about that one? No, again. She checked twenty black horses until suddenly she was sure she spotted Angel. She recognized the tall thin figure of her brother atop an elegant horse with raised tail and impatient, prancing hooves. There! There she was. She looked magnificent. Annie smiled. It was the greatest—and the hardest—gift she had ever made.
Annie turned her glasses back to Stuart. His inspection of the troops took more than two hours. Finally, he climbed a knoll near them. He seemed like a king looking down upon his realm. He sat still and erect; his black ostrich plume ruffled with the wind as his men broke themselves into squadrons and began to parade in review before him.
As Laurence trotted her past their carriage, Angel snorted and tossed her head happily. He waved at the girls. Charlotte gushed, “Oh, Annie, I cannot believe that your brother has chosen me. You must teach me to be as brave and well-read as you are, darling, so that I am worthier of being your sister.”
It was said with such sincerity, Annie softened and let go of her grudge. “You’ll be fine, Charlotte. He is quite smitten, you know. What Laurence has always appreciated is kindness.” Then Annie repeated a line from Shakespeare that she had often used as a guide for herself: “Beauty lives with kindness.” She smiled. Charlotte smiled back.
“Oh, look, Annie, isn’t that Captain Farley?”
Annie turned in enough time to see the gentle South Carolinian scout ride by, his horse, like himself, dignified and graceful. She blushed slightly.
“Aha, Annie, I see the beginning of something.” Charlotte wagged her finger. “Do tell!”
Annie’s smile faded. It would be a while before she completely trusted Charlotte again. She said nothing and simply put the field glasses back to her eyes, but she noticed Charlotte’s hurt expression.
Boom-boom-boom-boom.
Suddenly, as part of the show, twenty-four artillery guns exploded. Acrid smoke billowed across the valley and the nearly ten thousand riders took up the Rebel caterwaul. They drew their sabers with a resounding scrape of metal, and with bellows of “Charge!” spurred their horses into a gallop to show the gathered civilians what a battle would be like. Swords gleamed, dirt clods flew, horses reared and whinnied, the earth trembled with the thundering of forty thousand hooves suddenly tearing along the earth.
Charlotte gasped and clutched Annie, holding her handkerchief to her mouth. Annie frantically searched the mayhem of horses for Angel. Don’t let her be stampeded by some larger horse, Lord. Don’t let her get kicked. Don’t let Laurence fall under all those racing hooves, prayed Annie. Finally she found Angel, pulling ahead of dozens, her tail arched like a battle flag. Laurence’s hat was gone, his hair flying like her mane. Annie focused on his face. He was laughing.
Annie followed with the glasses. See, brother. See how wonderful my horse is, she thought. See why you always had trouble stopping me from galloping her!
The mock charge went on and on. Annie shook her head, disapproving of pushing the horses like that purely for show. And yet—she couldn’t help it—her heart raced at the exciting pageant before her.
Boom-boom-boom.
The guns exploded again. By now the thick smoke from the cannons was drifting toward the crowd. Annie heard a thud to the left of her and another to the right. Ladies were swooning. Now this was getting silly. The vanity of it was foolish; Stuart could break the horses running them like that. And why waste all that ammunition just to show off to a crowd that already worshiped him?
Boom-boom-boom.
Another two ladies standing in front of the carriage fell over—perfectly—into the arms of their escorts. Annie checked Charlotte, who was fanning herself frantically, her eyes wide and frightened. “Oh, Annie, I never imagined how terrible a battle could be before. I…I…I feel sick.” She leaned up against Annie.
Well, thought Annie, at least she didn’t faint.
That night, there was yet another ball. Again, Annie spent the evening mostly with Captain Farley. They danced outside under the stars. For Annie, it matched the romance of any book.
The next morning Farley arrived at Mrs. Crawford’s house and asked for Annie. Mrs. Crawford, as was proper, stayed in the parlor with them as they talked.
“I am not sure with whom to entrust this,” he said, holding out his carefully folded dress uniform. General Stuart had insisted that all his officers buy new uniforms for the review. Laurence had had to as well. “It is a fine material and meant for formal events; it’s rather expensive, I’m afraid. If I take it with me, it’s sure to be ruined in my haversack.” He looked hopefully at Annie.
Before she could respond, Mrs. Crawford stepped forward. “I’ll keep it for you, son. It will be here waiting for you when next you come to Culpeper, or when the war is over.”
Captain Farley looked slightly disappointed, but he smiled graciously at the plump old matron. “Thank you, ma’am. I am grateful to you. We are to move again within days. General Lee is planning a campaign north. If anything befalls me, please wrap me in this and send me to my mother.”
It was such a simple, sweet request. Annie hardly knew this man, really, but he had already won a spot in her heart that was growing. This time she stepped up. “There will be no need, Captain,” said Annie. “You must promise to visit me at Hickory Heights very soon. My brother will show you the way.”
“Gladly, Miss…” He paused and then shyly said her first name for the first time. “Miss Annie.”