The Velvet Shadow by Angela Elwell Hunt Read Free Book Online Page A

expect a politician to have a family,” he had told Flanna one afternoon as they walked around Louisburg Square, the gardencul-de-sac across from his mother’s house. “How am I to identify with a working man and his family unless I have a family of my own?”
    “And how can you relate to women, unless you are on friendly terms with one other than your mother?” Flanna answered, half-teasing.
    Roger nodded, apparently missing the joke. “Indeed! I’m so glad you understand! You see, Flanna, what a benefit you are to me! You are bright, beautiful, and kind. I could not ask for a more gracious hostess or a more beautiful confidante.”
    She had understood his intentions almost from the beginning, and if he was using her as a beautiful charmer, she had continued to see him for reasons equally as selfish. Roger Haynes was respected, his mother a doyenne of impeccable breeding. The stately brick house symbolized all that was proper and acceptable and good in Boston society. As a newcomer in the city, Flanna had been so desperate to belong, to be among people like those she had known at home, that she had gladly accepted Roger’s invitations.
    The final strains of “I Dream of Jeanie” drifted away from the parlor, then Meagan stood and curtseyed in front of her mistress. “Shall you be wanting to hear it again, ma’am?”
    “No, I believe we’ve heard enough,” Roger said, straightening on the sofa. While one hand fell to his mother’s shoulder, he pulled out his pocket watch with the other. “It’s half past one already, Mother. Obviously something has delayed Alden. Shall we go in to dinner without him?”
    “No.” Mrs. Haynes pulled her lips into a straight, disapproving line. “You are always in a hurry, Roger. You know how undependable the train is.”
    “But we’ve waited half an hour.”
    His mother’s eyes narrowed. “A polite person would wait all day. Now be patient and be quiet. I find I must address an issue that concerns your dinner guest.”
    Stiffening in her chair, Flanna felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks.
    “I trust, Miss O’Connor,” Mrs. Haynes said, folding her hands at her waist, “that you have heard the news? Have you seen a newspaper?”
    Flanna forced her lips to part in a curved, still smile. “Yes ma’am, I have. I read one yesterday.”
    Mrs. Haynes gave her a bright-eyed glance, full of shrewdness. “What say you to your countrymen’s rash decision? Those rebellious traitors have spat upon the blood of our forefathers and disavowed themselves of our glorious Union. Are your people in league with these renegades?”
    Feeling tired, hungry, and irritable, Flanna ran her hand over the rich upholstery of her chair and tried to think of a diplomatic response. She had lain awake most of the night, staring into the darkness and forming answers to the remarks she knew she’d encounter in the days ahead. How unfortunate that the comments had begun in this house on Christmas Day.
    “I couldn’t say for certain,” Flanna drawled, a light note of mockery in her voice, “but since my father and brother live in South Carolina, I imagine they will support South Carolina’s actions. And those forefathers of whom you spoke, ma’am, are the ones responsible for a great deal of this trouble. It began years ago and has finally bubbled to the surface. Perhaps the time has come to deal with it.”
    “Our forefathers?” Shock flickered over the woman’s face like summer lightning. “How can you say such a thing?”
    “Does not the Constitution itself allow slavery?” Flanna persisted, a reckless feeling rising in her soul. “Does the Constitution not state that a slave who escapes must be returned to his owner?”
    “The men who wrote the Constitution wanted to eliminate a necessary evil.” Mrs. Haynes showed her teeth in an expression that was not a smile. “They included a provision to end the importation of slaves in 1808, did they not?”
    “Mama knows her