Free The Lady and the Officer by Mary Ellis Page A

properly.”
    â€œNonsense.” John Duncan strode into the room. Although he looked more haggard than usual, he managed a warm smile for his family. “A girl is never too old for her father.”
    Eugenia giggled as he pecked her forehead with a kiss. “I feel the same. Shall I pour you some lemonade?”
    â€œA small glass of claret will suit better, thank you.” John buzzed Clarisa’s cheek with another kiss and then settled in a comfortable chair. Lines around his mouth seemed to have deepened the short time he was gone.
    â€œHow goes the war?” His wife asked the same question each day and received the same answer she always did.
    â€œIt goes as well as expected, dear heart.” Accepting the glass from Eugenia, he drank half the contents in one long swallow. “Ah, that’s better. Now it’s time for a surprise.” He pulled a wrinkled envelope from inside his waistcoat pocket. He smoothed it against his thigh before passing it to Clarisa.
    â€œPennsylvania?” she said, staring at the smudged envelope with a frisson of unease. “Mail from the North? Who do you suppose this is from?”
    â€œI believe I can guess, but we’ll know for certain if you open it,” John said as he stretched out his long legs.
    Tearing open the envelope, Clarisa scanned the single sheet. Thenshe reread the letter a second time as though the contents might change. “Pour me a drop of claret, Eugenia.”
    â€œPlease, Mama, don’t keep us in suspense. Who has written?”
    Clarisa leaned forward to relay snippets of information. “It’s from your cousin—my sister’s daughter. Madeline must be twenty-five… no, twenty-six now. She married and has been widowed.” Clarisa hastily crossed herself with the reference to death. “She’s been alone for two years, trying to continue her late husband’s vocation—breeding and selling horses. Her house was hit by an artillary shell earlier this month and burned to the ground.”
    Clarisa paused and met her husband’s gaze. He nodded with comprehension without mentioning the battle by name. No one in Virginia wished to speak of the horrible loss of Confederate soldiers at Gettysburg.
    â€œCousin Maddy? Wasn’t I still wearing skirts above my knees the last time she visited?” Eugenia handed her mother a small glass of wine and then began skipping around the room.
    â€œDo you want to hear the rest or not?” Clarisa offered her daughter a stern expression. “If so, I suggest you comport yourself.”
    â€œI beg your pardon, ma’am. Please continue.” Eugenia sat primly as instructed by governesses long ago with her ankles tucked beneath her skirt.
    â€œWas your niece hurt in the fire?” asked John.
    Clarisa refocused on the paper. “Apparently not, thank the Lord. But she lost everything she owned that hadn’t already been—” She tilted the letter toward the lamplight. “Appropriated.”
    â€œAppropriated by whom?” John demanded.
    â€œMy dear, I can only impart details contained within. Madeline wrote something else but scribbled it out.” Clarisa smiled patiently at him.
    â€œPlease continue.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m setting a poor example of proper comportment.”
    â€œMadeline was left with only a single mare, but she was forced to sell the horse for traveling money.” Clarisa lowered the paper to her lap.
    â€œWhat an adventure! Where is she taking a trip to, Mama?”
    â€œYour cousin is coming here and requests shelter for the remainder of the conflict.”
    Conventions of comportment could no longer confine Eugenia to her chair. She jumped to her feet and applauded as though attending the theater. “At long last I will have company! It’s been dreadfully dull in town with people too poor to throw parties.”
    Clarisa swallowed her remonstrance.