In His Eyes(21)

The other moved closer. “Yes, do forgive my daughter’s manners. I am Mrs. Ida Martin of Riverbend. May I present my daughter, Miss Opal Martin.”

Miss Martin inclined her head.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies.” Ella spoke the rehearsed line expected of her…merely stiff words for stiff people. “If you will join me in the parlor, tea will be served soon.”

The women sashayed forward, and Ella looked for approval from Sibby, but the woman had slipped away. They took places in the parlor, and Ella settled on the settee with Lee crooked in her arm.

“My, but you sure did make it out of the war unscathed.” Mrs. Martin’s clipped words startled Ella and caused her composure to falter.

Unscathed? Something fierce shuttered in Ella’s chest. Hardly! She’d lost her home, her possessions, and her dignity. She’d been reduced to…. The thoughts tumbled to a halt. No. Ella had lost those things. Mrs. Remington had not. Hoping the heat she felt in her chest had not manifested itself on her face, Ella forced her voice to remain pleasant. “I do not think, Mrs. Martin, that any person in this nation escaped such a horrible war unscathed.”

Miss Martin’s gaze traveled over the fine rugs, polished furniture, and paintings hanging on the fabric-lined walls and confusion puckered her smooth brow. Understanding bloomed and Ella hurried on. “But if you are referring to the furnishings, then, yes, we were quite blessed.”

Mrs. Martin tipped up her chin. “I doubt that is the proper term for it.”

Unsure how to respond, Ella looked to the younger woman, who appeared to be of a more pleasant disposition. Miss Martin smiled. “I’m sure my mother is merely wondering how you managed to retain all of your belongings when the rest of us were relieved of all of our things, leaving our homes nearly bare.”

Mrs. Martin scoffed. “I do not wonder, dear. Such a thing is quite obvious.”

Ella’s pulse quickened. She’d been prepared to act as a Yankee, but now with such distrust and scorn laid bare before her, she wondered if she were truly up to the task. “I am quite sorry for your loss, ladies.”

“As well you should be.” Mrs. Martin tilted her chin even higher. So much so, in fact, she began to look down her nose. “The things you Blue Bellies did were deplorable.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” The words slipped from Ella’s lips, embers of truth flung free of the fire hidden within.

Both women’s mouths gaped, and Ella momentarily felt a surge of satisfaction. It was squelched, however, by Miss Martin’s wide-eyed question.

“Are you not a Yankee like your husband?”

In a momentary decision, Ella reasoned the fewer lies she needed to tell, the easier it would be to keep her tales straight. Sibby would have to understand. “Not as you might think.”

Intrigued, both women leaned forward. Miss Martin’s pink lips turned up into a smile while her mother’s drifted toward a frown.

At that moment Sibby bustled into the room carrying a tea tray and refreshments. She placed the set on the table and stood, eyeing the three women. Had she heard Ella’s comment?

“Thank you, Sibby.” Ella waved her hand. “That will be all. I will serve my guests.”

Anger contorted the freedwoman’s face, and Ella knew she would hear plenty about the flippant dismissal later. But if Sibby wanted her to act like at lady in front of neighbors, then that’s what she would do.

Mrs. Martin nodded her approval, and Ella decided her action had been prudent. She’d been the object of such arrogant disregard often enough to know that any true lady would behave such.

Sibby stalked from the room, making her displeasure known to all, and then pulled the door closed with a resounding click.

The other two women averted their gaze from Ella, certainly to give her a moment to compose herself after such blatant disrespect from a servant. Ella didn’t know whether to be angry or amused.

Since the sooner she served the tea the sooner she could see the guests to the door, Ella placed the sleeping baby into the rocking cradle and began pouring tea for the other women. Once they had full cups and their choice of sugar and cream, Ella served herself.

“Well, I must say, it is good to see that you have control of the slaves.” Mrs. Martin’s reedy voice distracted Ella from her recollection of how to hold the tiny cup properly. “The elder Mrs. Remington was far too lax with them.”

“We have no slaves here.” Ella balanced the delicate cup on her saucer. “All of the servants are free, as is the law.”

A sly smile curved Mrs. Martin’s thin lips. “Certainly. As is the case at Riverbend.”

Ella suspected she missed something pertinent in the words, but let them slide.

“What were you saying about loyalties, Mrs. Remington?” Miss Martin asked as she tucked a warm brown lock into her chignon.

Not certain if the turn of subject back to their earlier curiosity over her allegiances was more or less dangerous than the talk of slaves, Ella picked her words carefully. “When the war began, it is true that I agreed with keeping the country intact.”

Mrs. Martin turned up her nose, indicating she had thought as much.

Ella tamped down her frustration. “However, as the war progressed, I became increasingly displeased with the Federal tactics used against our lands.”