Catching the Rose Read online

  “Call me Ronnie, dear, it makes me comfortable,” Veronica said, scooping scrambled eggs into her mouth.

  “You certainly enjoy your food, don’t you?” Amelia observed.

  Nan laughed aloud while turning down the covers. “My missy, she likes her food all right.” She turned to see Veronica’s displeasure. “But she needs it to keep goin’, what with all that she does,” she quickly defended, readying the changing screen and leaving to bring hot water from the stove below.

  “I am constantly admonished at home, for I never do eat like a lady. I can’t help it—I was too healthy before they could stop my habits,” Veronica smiled.

  “Good! I should hate to become friends with a dissipated southern belle.”

  Veronica recoiled, surprised and amused by her bedfellow’s spontaneous exclamations. “You are an odd one.”

  Amelia beamed as though given a compliment. Leaning toward Veronica, she confidentially whispered, “It is a goal of mine to hear such words come out of the mouth of those who amuse me, Miss Vero—Ronnie.” She watched Veronica step from the bed to disappear behind her changing screen, and smiled as Nan dutifully followed.

  “Do I amuse you?” Veronica asked. With a frown she was helped into her heavy hoopskirt by Nan, and had her hair softly pulled back. How embarrassing, to have one’s slave dress one, and to have it noticed by one’s roommate. She bit back an exclamation as Nan tugged at her corset.

  “Very much. We shall have a jolly time.”

  “You have had breakfast, then, I take it?”

  “Hours ago. It’s so borin’ downstairs, though there are dozens of delicious books in the library. I began one, but was continually distracted. What were you writin’, last night?” Amelia suddenly switched topics and caught Veronica off-guard as she stepped from behind the screen.

  “What was I writin’? Thoughts; phrases. Little things that don’t mean anythin’ to anyone but me,” Veronica smiled, toying with her handkerchief as Nan finished the last button.

  “May I see?” Amelia jumped back as Veronica and Nan quickly answered, “No!” and fell silent. “I hadn’t realized it was one of such personal—”

  “You talk a lot, don’t you?” Veronica burst, annoyed by Amelia’s chattiness, although by spirit she would have done the same.

  Once again, Amelia did not see this outburst as society would deem necessary. “At first I am, when first meetin’ someone. But, as I become used to them, I quiet down and see what they’re really like—to see if they told the truth of themselves at first appearance.”

  Veronica turned to Nan, asking for her shawl. As she wrapped it around her shoulders, she commented, “I haven’t been out in Richmond for some time, now. Do you wish to join me, Amelia, for a stroll?” Quirking her lips as Amelia hesitated, she looked out the window to find the city beckoning with its strolling carriages and laughing children.

  “Do call me Amy—it would make me feel more comfortable,” Amy responded, rocking on her heels. “Yes, I think I should like to get out and see Richmond. It has been years since last I visited, and my quick glimpse from the carriage window was hardly satisfyin’.”

  Veronica waited for Amy to grab her shawl. As they raced down the steps in a much undignified manner and stumbled upon Mrs. Beaumont’s curious visage from the parlor, Veronica laughed. “We didn’t mean to shock you, Mrs. B,” she exclaimed. “We are about to explore Richmond. Would you like to come?”

  “Oh, no, dears. My presence is not much wanted in Richmond right now. Perhaps later, when my societal status has risen…if you understand what I mean, Ronnie.”

  Amy hesitated before following Veronica out the door, for the look that dashed across Mrs. Beaumont’s face was one of bitterness and spite. Was her status really worth so much that she dared not leave the house until society deemed it natural? She hurried to catch up with Veronica at the property’s gate. Amy was as surprised as her roommate to find a woman staring at the brown brick house as though it contained the plague.

  “Why, hello Mrs. Johnson! How is your husband?” Veronica exclaimed, enjoying how her mere presence seemed to cause curiosity.

  “I am as well as can be, Miss Vernon—just right as rain! Surely you will be comin’ by to stay a while at my house?”

  It caused scandal, Veronica knew, to stay in a boarding house rather than in the familiar homes of the posh. And it was something she thoroughly enjoyed. “I am sorry, but I have promised my momma and dear Mrs. Beaumont that I shall stay only in this house while in Richmond. You know how mothers are,” she laughed, pulling Amy’s arm as she backed away. “Do come and see us soon, though, won’t you?”

  “How could you be so sly? That woman seems the devil’s own,” Amy gasped, watching Mrs. Johnson enter the house with a grimace.

  Veronica laughed, nodding at a man who trotted by on his horse. “She’s invited me to her house so many times it’s sickenin’. She wants me to marry her brother, so he may have money. He squandered it all last year on a race. It’s a lark, though, runnin’ into her. I bet she was lookin’ at the house just to see whether the rumors were true. Mrs. Beaumont was kicked out of high society, you know.”

  “Mrs. Johnson,” Amy mused. “I am ashamed to admit I cannot remember her previously, though she certainly looks familiar.”

  “Oh, she belongs to the Harris lot—surely you have heard of them,” Veronica nodded to passer-by men, who lifted their hats and smiled a little too cordially in return. She took no notice of Amy’s suddenly pale expression.

  “Yes, I remember the Harris lot. I am a close friend, though I doubt you believe it, me so poor compared to your riches.” Amy frowned as she realized Mrs. Johnson made no notice of her own presence. How disturbing, especially since Amy had been an old family friend, while Veronica was probably nothing more than an object to be bought for a higher status in society.

  “Indeed! The world certainly does get smaller, doesn’t it?” Veronica smiled. She paused, glimpsing paperboy advertising news of upcoming battles. “I should like to see our boys in action, wouldn’t you?”

  “I certainly should not like to see them in action. Such horrors! And for me to know that there is to be another battle—”

  “Another battle!” Veronica breathed. “When? Where? I must know.” Perhaps her trip farther north would happen sooner than she thought.

  “This comin’ from a girl who yesterday spouted how terrible cannons are.”

  This really was not the time to speak of details, thought Veronica, as they turned for the house. “How do you know there is to be another battle?”

  “Well, we are in a war, are we not? Wars have battles…I am only assumin’ the obvious. I do not have any real information,” Amy smiled.

  Veronica sighed, and the matter was left alone. As they removed their bonnets and shawls upon entering the residence, she quickly glanced about the foyer. “I see Mrs. Johnson made a speedy call.”

  Amy followed Veronica to the library, where Mrs. Beaumont sat stupefied. “Is somethin’ wrong, Mrs. Beaumont?” she asked, selecting a book to thumb through. She smiled over her book at Veronica, who primly sat at the house piano as though she knew nothing of the matter.

  “I have been invited back to my society. Dear, dear Veronica! You have done me a great service. Why, your momma would be very proud, and your father, I daresay. Oh, how glad I am that you came to me!” Mrs. Beaumont laughed, taking Veronica’s hand. “You have done me a great service. How shall I repay you?”

  Veronica paused for drama, eyeing both Mrs. Beaumont and Amy before she replied. “So long as Mrs. Johnson is kept away from me I shall be greatly indebted.” Pleased that she caused laughter, Veronica was not in the least upset when Mrs. Beaumont suggested they all depart until supper, where they were entertained by Amy’s stories of her family.

  “I live with my uncle and his family now—they have taken me close to their hearts, I daresay. Madge and I get along splendidly, and Brad and I often tease frequently, for we have a coz
iness that I am sure not many cousins have together.

  “We are all very much alike, in taste and mannerisms, though Madge is quite a spitfire—much like you, Ronnie. If you two were to ever meet, I should enjoy seein’ you go at it.” Amy laughed, influencing the others to comply though they did not know this Madge.

  “And if I were to meet Brad?” Veronica smiled, curious as to how she would receive the attentions of Amy’s fabled cousin. To her surprise, Amy seriously pondered them together.

  “He often talks of a friend he had when young. To me, not Madge, mind you, and it seems as though she sounds like you, Ronnie. I would be very interested to see how he would react to you. Always watchin’, always observin’: though I doubt you would have that known to the world.”

  “I do not watch people. Nor do I observe,” Veronica exclaimed, blushing that her secret be so quickly discovered. “Why should the meetin’ of your cousin and I be interestin’?”

  “Why, he does the same thing. A day does not go by that I catch him watchin’ me with this curious, studious look in his eye, as though he tried to delve into my mind and couldn’t make heads or tails. Terrified me to no end, my first couple of months at Uncle’s place, to turn and find a boy with large eyes starin’ at me. And then one day, I stared at him constantly. I followed him everywhere and my eyes never left his face.”

  “Whatever happened?” Veronica asked.

  “He became so nervous he couldn’t eat. He thought I was laughin’ at him, and he couldn’t stand it. We’ve been steadfast friends since.”

  “Well, I should like to hear all about your family, Miss Williams, but I must get to bed. Thanks to my dear friend Veronica I have plans tomorrow. This is so excitin’! I have a very busy day tomorrow, accordin’ to Mrs. Johnson,” Mrs. Beaumont said, leaving with a sweep of her skirts.

  Noting the time, her boarders soon followed. And as they mounted the stair, Amy could not help but ask, “When you said you would like to see the battle, did you say so in earnest?”

  “Of course. Have you decided to tell me what you wouldn’t earlier?”

  Amy blinked in surprise while lighting a candle. “How did you? —well, never mind. I’m sure all this observation is wearin’ you thin, Ronnie. You seem like the type who is more comfortable pretendin’ to be stupid when one is actually smart. As soon as you are comfortable, I’m expectin’ you to become the most scatterbrained girl I know.”

  “You are quite right. Naturally, I am one who talks quickly and thinks little. When a novelty comes around, I become philosophical—it tries my brain exceedingly. Wait until the end of the week, when I reveal my more giddy side, perhaps,” she smiled while scooting into bed.

  “I suppose you won’t be writin’ tonight.”

  Veronica shook her head against her pillow. “I have too much to think about. But what is it that you’re keepin’ from me, Amy? I am dyin’ of curiosity.”

  “I’ve heard there is to be another fight, somewhere between Richmond and D.C.”

  Veronica hesitated, supporting her weight with her arm as she lay in bed. Watching Amy prepare for bed with her usual light quickness, she burst, “I know someone who might be fightin’.”

  Amy sat in bed and held the oil-lamp to more clearly see Veronica’s face. Her tone had been strange, as though she admitted as much only because she felt obligated to do so. Amy wondered if it was a habit of Veronica’s for her accent to get thicker when agitated, and so she listened closely.

  “It’s not like I love him or anythin’, I just…know him. I actually tried to get rid of him. I suppose he said he signed up because he thought it would impress me.”

  “How romantic,” Amy stated, though it was evident Veronica thought it far from.

  “I am sure he is lyin’. He always lies. And if he isn’t…well. I don’t know why he needs to go. Everyone knows one Johnny Reb can whip ten Yankees easily.” She pulled the blanket so it covered her knees. “He begs me to marry him, but he knows I do not love him.”

  “So, what are you goin’ to do?”

  “I just know I’m goin’ to be on that battlefield.”

  “I don’t think that would be much wise, roommate. What if it got out of hand?”

  “Maybe we could help the Confederacy by bein’ spies.”

  “I’m really too tired to think of anythin’ that has to do with movin’ from this bed.”

  Veronica knew Amy could hear her smile as she said, “You seem to be losin’ your ever present energy.”

  “Far from it. I am comfortable around you, and have learned much in this first day together. The longer I know you, the more you shall see me observe.” Amy turned under her covers and sighed, now quite comfortable and ready for sleep.

  “We are perfect opposites, then, are we not, Amy?”

  “Hmm. I suppose so. Good night, Ronnie.”

  Veronica turned in her bed, ready for sleep, though for some strange reason all she could think of was Amy’s cousin. What was this Brad like? And why did it amuse and trouble Amy so, to think of them together?

  * * * * *

  May, 1861

  Maum Jo ritually entered the room at daybreak and opened the curtains. She turned to find both tenants hiding beneath their covers, and as she chuckled, she shook the feet of their beds. “I’se opened the winda’s for you to get up, but hidin’ yourselves beneath your covers defeats my purpose!”

  Amy moaned, slowly sitting up. Holding her head, she waved Maum Jo away. “She’s right, Ronnie. We’ve got to get up if we want to get the best pickin’s from the market.” She glanced to see Veronica’s head completely hidden from the morning light, and stood up to tweak one of her braids. “Get up, Ronnie!”

  Veronica grumbled and shuffled under her coverlet.

  Laughing, Amy dragged her from bed. “If the sun won’t wake you, and stubbin’ your toe won’t wake you, then maybe this will wake you!” Amused, she dumped a ladle full of cold water over Ronnie’s head.

  The cold water shocked all response from Veronica. “Oh, you are horrible!”

  Amy threw a dress at her. “That’s all fine and dandy, miss, but we’ve got shoppin’ to do!”

  Veronica dragged the dress over her head, and had Nan do her hair. As she and Amy scrambled down the stairs, she grabbed her shawl and threw it over her shoulders. “I don’t understand why we’ve got to leave so early in the mornin’, Amy, dear.”

  Amy neatly grabbed Veronica’s arm to pull her in line with her own brisk step. “The market has first picks early in the mornin’,” she explained, “And I am sure you would not like to bargain for over-ripe food. Don’t be so despondent, Ronnie! It is a new day!” Veronica stepped over a puddle. Though it was more humid than cool, she pulled her shawl closer and grumbled how it must have rained, causing Amy to muse, “I haven’t even noticed the weather. It’s so invigoratin’ to be out and about!”

  “You never notice anythin’ but the task at hand anyway.”

  Amy glanced at her, and Veronica blamed it on the nonexistent wind. Shaking her head with a slight smile, Amy expertly led the way to the market, dodging the maneuvering carts filled with produce. “Ronnie, I do not appreciate your tone. You make it sound as though I forced you to come! And who was it that begged to be awoken early so as to accompany me to the market today?”

  Amy’s spiel fell on deaf ears as Veronica noticed a sweets shop with a very appetizing window display. “Oh, look! We must get some cookies.”

  “No, treats are not on the list. We are makin’ a gumbo, so it would only make sense that we need eggs, sugar—”

  “Cookies,” Veronica interjected.

  “Okra, shrimp, sausage—”

  “Cookies.”

  “Ham, flour, yeast, and finally…” Amy scrutinized Mrs. Beaumont’s tiny script.

  “Cookies?” Veronica implored, stealing a glance over Amy’s shoulder, before returning to stare at the unattainable treats.

  “Exactly how old are you, Miss Vernon?”

  “S
eventeen,” she answered. “And you?”

  “Eighteen.” Amy looked her friend over, and commented, “And obviously, I must be years more mature than you, mentally.”

  “Now, that’s not fair, Amy. I’m used to sweets, back home.” Sensing Amy would not indulge, Veronica gave up following her friend to a farmer’s cart. As Amy bargained for flour, Veronica inspected a cart filled with lace for blouse necks. Shaking her head at the dealer when asked whether she needed help, she turned away. Now completely bored, Veronica was about to rejoin Amy when she was set upon.

  “So sorry, madam,” he slurred, stumbling in the mantrap folds of her skirt.

  Veronica numbly watched the man struggle to regain his balance with her arm. His grubby hand brushed her waist. She exclaimed in surprise and struggled to release his hold.

  * * * * *

  “I will not go at such a high price for eggs. This is ridiculous!” Amy declared.

  “Your friend seems to be in trouble,” the dealer observed.

  “My friend has trouble decidin’ which treat to buy first. She can wait, I’m sure. Now, would you give these to me for—?”

  “I really think you should see this.”

  “I’m sure I know my friend better than you, ma’am, now will you please let me bargain and be on my way!”

  * * * * *

  The man wiped his face with the back of his soiled hands.

  Veronica whimpered, wondering why the dealer had closed shop and wheeled her cart away. This was broad daylight! Richmond certainly was not what it once was, if such occurrences as this was now commonplace and had to be avoided. Veronica found it hard to limit his drunken moves. Every time she grasped his hands, they slipped and his weight was thrown again.

  Veronica waited until she could snatch the man’s hands and help him stand without using her small frame as a living walking cane. “Amy Williams!” she shouted, stunning her aggressor into regaining some sense of composure.