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braid. “Run along now, precious. And be good.”
    Varina strode over to Manning and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go see about that firewood.”
    As she dragged him out of the parlor, Manning heard Caddie call softly behind him. “Mr. Forbes?”
    He only had time to glance back and raise an eyebrow. Caddie’s forehead furrowed in a look of intense curiosity, and perhaps a shade of fear. “Are you sure you’ve never had children of your own?”
    The question could easily be taken as a compliment and that warmed Manning. But he heard something else in Caddie’s tone that he couldn’t quite fathom.
    And it sent a chill through him.

Chapter Five
    W HO WAS THIS husband of hers? Where had he come from? Who were his people? What did his past hold?
    These and many other questions plagued Caddie as she stirred the bed linens in a cauldron of hot, soapy water.
    She’d been raised in a society that set great store by a person’s lineage. It did not need to be terribly exalted, just so you knew where they came from and how they fit into the great interconnected community of the South.
    Before she’d danced a single reel with Delbert Marsh, she’d known he belonged to a distinguished Virginia family of spotless pedigree. That, as much as anything, had led her to set her cap for him. Back then her family had called her “La Princesse” and she’d had a bevy of beaux that included scions of most every good family in the Sand Hills, and many from the Low Country, too.
    Del had caught her eye right away. Throughout the South, Virginians were noted for their pride, and Delbert Decatur Marsh had merited the reputation in full measure. With more than her fair share of that quality, Caddie had always admired men of distinction and presence who didn’t underestimate themselves. Too late, she’d discovered how difficult it could be for two proud people to make a marriage work.
    She and Del had both been accustomed to getting their way. As the man of the family, her husband had the full weight of Southern tradition empowering him to continue doing so. Unused to coming second to anyone, Caddie had let her nose get out of joint at the slightest provocation.
    Proud folks didn’t stoop to ill-bred bickering. They behaved correctly but coldly. If Del had been surprised or even hurt by the change in manner of his formerly adoring bride, he’d been too proud to ask what was wrong. If he had asked, she’d likely have been too proud to tell him.
    Stirred from her bitter musings, Caddie looked around her. What cause for pride did she have now? Not her looks, that was certain. The state of her hands and complexion would have scandalized the rigorous mammy of her girlhood. Caddie’s station in life was no longer anything to boast about. These days she worked as hard as any house slave before the war, while eating less and dressing worse.
    She was proud of her children, though. Proud of having survived the war and its aftermath with some dignity intact. Proud of her Southern heritage.
    Yet she’d married a man about whom she knew nothing.
    Caddie rinsed the sheets, wrung them out and hung them to dry. Hopefully a day of April breezes and sunshine would make them fit to sleep on.
    Once she’d done the laundry, Caddie tackled the dirt-encrusted parlor floor. With each swipe of the scrub brush, she brooded over all the things she didn’t know about her new husband. Her alarm mounted by the minute.
    How old was he? Around the age Del would have been, Caddie guessed. Since soldiering put years on a man’s face, she couldn’t be sure. What schooling did he have? His conversation wasn’t peppered with slang or cussing, like many of the Yankees she’d known in Richmond. That suggested some kind of decent upbringing and education.
    Had he been married previously? Was it possible he still had a wife up North to whom he might return after he’d made his fortune in Virginia? That would explain why he hadn’t been anxious to consummate their