the Gazette, then neatly folded it before he said, “Very well, my dear, what crisis do we face now? Is there another drunken soldier on our doorstep, or is it merely burned bread in the kitchen?”
Clara clenched her teeth. The man could be so exasperating. Her temple throbbed; another headache would plague her all afternoon. “This is a serious problem. What are we going to do about Julia?”
At this, the doctor did raise his bushy brows. “Whatever in the world has Julia done? It’s Carolyn that usually puts you into such a pet.”
Clara allowed this remark to slide over her just as she had done for the past twenty-three years of her marriage. “Julia’s birthday will come round next month,” she began.
The doctor smiled. “Is that a fact? And how does she want to celebrate the event? We could afford a small party, I suppose. Nothing lavish, mind you.”
Now both her temples pounded against Clara’s skull. Was it any wonder that she was forced to rely on the solace of opium to keep her mind clear? She glared at Jonah. “Don’t talk to me of such frippery, Dr. Chandler. I am not at all interested in Julia’s birthday, but her wedding. She is almost twenty-one and still a spinster.”
Jonah folded his hands over his stomach and twiddled his thumbs. “I believe she is still mourning for young Shaffer.”
Clara pinched the bridge of her nose in an effort to cut off the rising pain behind her eyes. “That is exactly my point. Frank has been cold in the ground for two years. She’s wept over that boy for long enough. Thanks to this horrible war, Julia has been unable to go out into society to meet any eligible men especially now that the streets of Alexandria are simply crawling with hordes of Yankees. She should have been wed a year ago, at least. I was barely seventeen when I married you.”
A sad smile crossed the doctor’s face. “That young, were you? I had quite forgotten,” he murmured softly.
Clara pursed her lips. “There are a number of things you have forgotten over the years, Jonah, but leave that be.” She withdrew a folded piece of writing paper from her skirt pocket. “Thankfully, I have given the matter a great deal of thought, and I have found the solution. Cousin Payton can marry Julia.” She held out his letter to her husband.
With a sigh, Jonah reached across the wine-red oriental carpet for it. He wiped his spectacles with his pocket handkerchief before reading Payton Norwood’s brief message informing them that he had assumed complete charge of Belmont-on-the-James, the family tobacco plantation, following probate of his late father’s will.
Clara leaned against the tufted chair back. Dear Payton was a definite cut above that feckless Shaffer boy. A second cousin on her mother’s side of the family, he had the blood of Virginia’s first families running through his veins. Suspecting that he was now able to support a wife, Clara had written to him the minute Payton was out of formal mourning.
“He and Julia are nearly the same age and they have known each other since they were children. Payton will be a perfect match for her,” she concluded with a satisfied smile.
Jonah put down the letter and looked across at his wife. “What does Julia think of this idea?”
Clara took a deep breath, then assumed her brightest expression. “She doesn’t know it yet, of course. How could I have possibly asked her if she wanted to marry Payton until I had sounded out the boy’s ability to provide for her?”
A small frown line deepened between Jonah’s tired gray eyes. “It seems to me that we should give Julia’s feelings some consideration. After all, she’s the one who would have to live with him for the rest of her life.”
Clara smiled with fondness. “She couldn’t possibly feel anything but sheer joy. Dear Payton is a fine, handsome man, his home is a jewel and his lineage is impeccable. Julia will be treated like a queen by Richmond’s society.” Clara already envisioned long visits to Belmont and all the delightful parties she could enjoy in the Confederacy’s capital. “Julia won’t be a virtual prisoner in her home there as she is here,” she added with an arch look at her husband.
Jonah rang the silver handbell that sat on his reading table. “Let us see what Julia has to say.”
Hettie Perkins, the family’s cook and now housekeeper since the war had forced the Chandlers to economize, slipped through the parlor door. “Yes, sir?” she asked.
As if she doesn’t already know what we want, Clara thought. She was sure Hettie had her ear pressed against the keyhole ever since she opened her mouth. Aloud, Clara asked, “Where is Julia?”
Hettie folded her long fingers over her apron. “I expect she’s in her room, reading a book. That’s what she does most days about this time.”
Clara made a face. Julia read entirely too much when she should be plying her needle or practicing her music. What good did such serious tomes like Nott’s Indigenous Races of the Earth or the plays of Shakespeare do for her but weaken her eyesight? She should have turned her quick mind to more practical studies like the Accomplished Gentlewoman’s Companion, written by Mr. William Parks. That bible of cookery had served hundreds of Virginia brides for over a century. Clara swore by her own dog-eared copy. Why couldn’t Julia read that, instead of filling her head with obtuse rubbish?
It was all that Shaffer boy’s fault. He had encouraged Julia’s book mania.
Leaning forward in his chair, Jonah told Hettie, “Please ask Julia to come down here—now.”
“And don’t dilly-dally along the way, Hettie,” Clara added. She felt that Hettie acted far too independent for her position. It was up to Clara to always remind Hettie who she was, even if Jonah had given freedom to all their servants last January. What a foolish thing that Lincoln had done when he issued his Emancipation Proclamation! It was like letting snakes out of Pandora’s box. Now there was no chance of putting things back into their proper order.
Hettie smiled. “A terrapin walks fast enough to go visiting,” she murmured one of her annoying maxims as she disappeared into the hall.
A heavy silence descended upon the Chandler parlor while the doctor and his wife awaited the arrival of their elder daughter. The grandfather clock, standing in the corner, ticked away each minute with solemn steadiness. Outside, a horse-drawn carriage creaked past their house. The heavy burgundy window drapes in the parlor muffled most of Alexandria’s noise in the late morning. Twiddling his thumbs, Jonah stared up at the ceiling. It was too bad that her husband’s medical practice had decreased since the start of the war. Many of his former patients said they preferred to be treated by Yankee doctors. The family should have moved to Richmond two years ago.
The rattle of the door latch announced Julia’s arrival. Her reading glasses were perched on the end of her nose. “Papa? Mother?” She looked from one silent parent to the other. “You wanted to see me?”
Jonah beckoned her into the room. “Come, child. Close the door, Hettie, before the drafts kill us all.”
Clara noticed that the cook remained inside the parlor once the door was firmly shut. And who was minding their dinner, she wondered.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Your mother and I were discussing your future, Julia,” he began.
Clara rolled her blue eyes. At this rate, Jonah would blather on for a half hour before he got to the point. When he paused, she took command of the conversation. “The long and short of it is that we plan to arrange a marriage for you.”
Julia sank down on the ottoman. “Marriage?” she repeated. Her green eyes turned a jade color—a clear sign that she was deeply moved.
“Surely you have gotten over Frank by now,” her father suggested.
Touching her silver locket, Julia moistened her lips. “Yes, I suppose I have,” she answered, “but I thought there would be plenty of time for courtship once the war was over.”
Clara shook her head at this notion. “That event could be years from now,