The Widow's War by Mary Mackey Read Free Book Online Page B

to my stepmother. At present she and my father are living in Washington. He’s a senator, Senator Bennett Presgrove of Kentucky. Perhaps you have heard of him? He’s been in the papers quite a bit lately.”
    Carrie shakes her head. She hasn’t read an American newspaper in weeks. All she knows is that Franklin Pierce has been elected President and that the issue of slavery is becoming more and more divisive, but beyond that she has been out of touch ever since the epidemic began. She has never heard of Senator Bennett Presgrove.
    “No matter, the point is, he and my stepmother have rented a very comfortable house in Washington, so you will not have to make the long trip to their plantation in Kentucky. As you know, the voyage from Brazil to the States takes two months—sometimes more. By the time you reach Washington . . .” He stops. “Well, you take my meaning, Miz Vinton.”
    “By then,” Carrie says, “I will almost be ready for what is called ‘my confinement.’ In other words, my condition will start to become quite obvious, and no amount of raising crinolines or taking out seams will be able to disguise it.” She knows she’s being overly blunt, but she doesn’t care. Her life is going to have to go on, and she intends to live as she has always has, straightforwardly without cloaking everything in cloying euphemisms.
    “I need to warn you that I’m not a woman who puts much stock in conventions. When I was a child, my aunt despaired of turning me into a lady. I have no intention of shutting myself away for months in a dark house with the blinds drawn. It’s unhealthy and boring and completely unnecessary. Being with child is not an illness, and despite the fact that I’m unmarried—” Although she fights to control her voice, it trembles at the mention of marriage. She stops and takes a breath.
    “Despite that, I am not ashamed. I intend to go out in public as long as I feel up to it, and if that makes you want to reconsider your offer, you had better tell me now.”
    Mr. Presgrove doesn’t seem to be the least disconcerted. “Of course,” he says. “Whatever you wish. But you will allow me to escort you back to the States, won’t you? And you will let my stepmother have the joy of being present when her first grandchild comes into the world?”
    Carrie’s desire to resist collapses. She wants to go home to have her child, and Mr. Presgrove is offering her a chance to do so in comfort and safety. She’s surprised that she still thinks of the States as “home,” but she does. All at once, she’s overcome with nostalgia. She wants to experience winter again, watch apple trees bud out in the spring. How long has it been since she has seen a robin or eaten maple syrup on her pancakes?
    “I’ll travel to Washington with you,” she says. “Thank you, Mr. Presgrove. It’s a very kind offer, but are you sure William’s mother will welcome me?”
    “She will welcome you with open arms.” He pauses. “And you must let me pay your expenses. Again I insist. After all, William’s dying wish was that I take care of you and,” he looks around the room, “I imagine you are experiencing financial difficulties. I hope you do not take offense at me saying this, but your father, famous though he was, could not have been a wealthy man.”
    Carrie studies him warily. She does not like the turn the conversation has just taken. He seems sincere, but is it possible he doesn’t know she’s wealthy? She glances at the pile of condolence cards on her writing desk. If so, he must be the only unmarried man in Rio who doesn’t view her as a potential source of income.
    “Surely you have heard that I recently inherited a great fortune.”
    “Yes, Miz Vinton. I heard that on the day I learned you were still alive. The news has spread to Salvador. Brazil is a large country, but Americans are few and when something happens to one, the rest know about it so swiftly it’s enough to make one believe in