Huntoon wanted to put some additional questions to Powell. He needed more details, yet at the same time didn't want to risk offending. So he had delayed a while. Finally, however, his agitated state drove him out of the office that broiling noonday and into a hack.
"Church Hill," he called through the roof slot, rapping with his stick for emphasis. "Corner of Twenty-fourth and Franklin."
Leaves coated with dust hung motionless over the brick wall. Excited, Huntoon lumbered up the steps and knocked. A minute later he knocked again. At last, the door opened.
"Powell, I've decided —"
"What in hell are you doing here?" Powell demanded, giving a yank to tighten the belt of his emerald velvet dressing gown. The vee of flesh showing between his lapels was glittery with sweat.
St. John's Church began to ring the half-hour. Queasy, Huntoon felt that the bell was sounding a knell for his opportunity. "I didn't mean to interrupt —"
"But you have. I'm extremely busy."
Huntoon blinked, overcome with fright. "Please accept my aplogy. I came only because you said you wanted my decision promptly. I made it this morning." A swift look down the street. Then he thought he heard some unseen person stirring behind the door.
"All right, tell me."
"I — I want to join, if you'll have me."
Some of the wrath left Powell's face. "Of course. That's excellent news."
"May we talk about particulars of when and how —?"
"Not now. I'll be in touch." Then, seeing Huntoon react unfavorably to his curtness, Powell smiled. "Very soon. I would be pleased to do it today, but unfortunately I have many other affairs that demand attention. I'm very glad you're with us, James. We need a man of courage and vision in the new Treasury. You'll hear from me in a day or two, I promise."
He closed the door. Huntoon was left in the heat, his heavy coat binding his fat body and his feelings hurt. Of course he had called without an appointment, and Southerners resented such discourtesies. He had no right to harbor resentment, though he did wonder what private matter required Powell to wear a dressing gown in the middle of the day. Huntoon had a suspicion too painful to entertain for very long.
As he went in search of a hack to return him to Capitol Square, he did an emotional turnabout. Powell became the injured party, he the offending one. His mind executed the reversal because he needed to feel himself genuinely a part of Lamar Powell's plan.
And what he wanted most of all was to tell his wife of his brave decision.
"Near thing," Powell said in the foyer, slipping out of the hot velvet robe and hooking it over his shoulder by one finger. It was the closest he had come in many a year to being surprised by a cuckolded husband, and it showed in the tightness of his features. Huntoon waddled away up the sidewalk, and Ashton, buck naked, uncovered her mouth and succumbed to the laughter she had struggled to control while she was hidden behind the door.
"You nearly gave us away."
"But — I had to listen, Lamar." She laughed so hard tears came. "It was — so delicious — my husband on one side of the door — my lover on the other —" She held her sides; her breasts shook.
"I didn't hear you sneak down here while I was answering the door. Seeing you damn near gave me a seizure." He clamped her chin in his left hand and lifted it swiftly, roughly. "Don't ever do such a thing again."
Smile fading: "No, no — I'm sorry — I won't. But I'm elated that he said yes. He's been pondering the decision for days. He hasn't said a word to me, but I could tell it's been on his mind." She took hold of his arm, "You're pleased, aren't you? Now we have him where we can watch him."
"And we don't want him to change his mind. So you must allay any lingering doubts he may have. Make him very proud of his decision by rewarding him." He squeezed her chin; a spasm at the corners of her mouth showed there was pain. "Do you understand, my dear?"
"Yes. Yes. I'll do whatever you say."
"As always." He let go of her. The imprint of his fingers faded. Smiling, he gave her cheek a brief, paternal kiss. "That's why I love you."
That evening, after dismissing the servants and closing the dining-room doors, Huntoon cleared his throat in a way that signaled a pronouncement. Except for a slight scarring of the wallpaper, the room showed no evidence of Cooper's visit. New legs had been installed on the table; new jasperware filled the repaired cabinet.
She felt she must be simpering as she said, "James, what is it? You're so excited —"
"With good reason. Recently I've had some — private conversations with Mr. Lamar Powell —" He pushed aside the tureen of steaming fish bisque, jumped up. "Oh, I can't sit —" He rushed to her end of the table. "He approached me with the most astonishing scheme, Ashton — a proposal I have accepted because I feel it's my patriotic duty, because I believe it's morally right, and also because I think it will work to our very great benefit."
"Dear me," she murmured, trying for precisely the right blend of surprise and reservation. "Does he want money for another vessel?"
"God, no, nothing so mundane. I will tell you what it is, but you must prepare yourself. Open your mind. Not hesitate to think, well, daringly. Unconventionally. Sweetheart — Mr. Powell and some associates I have not met as yet intend to establish —" he gripped her arm, bent down beside her chair "— a new Confederate state."
"What?"
"Please don't raise your voice. You heard me correctly. A new Confederacy. Let me tell you about it."
Giggling inside, Ashton frowned as he pulled a chair from the corner and sat beside her. He fondled her hand, explaining, revealing, persuading while she fluttered her eyelashes to simulate astonishment, pressed a hand to her breast, and at appropriate intervals gasped. Altogether, in her own estimation, she gave a splendid performance — up to and including the dramatic rush of her palm to her open mouth when he first said the word assassination.
He took half an hour to pour it all out. The fish bisque had congealed by the time he asked, "Now tell me — did I act improperly? I've withheld none of the facts, including my strong desire to join Powell's group. I want to be his new secretary of the treasury, and I believe that's possible. The Southwest is a long way from our home state, but think of the rewards when we establish a new government. We'll command the attention — the respect — of the entire world."
"I am thinking of that. It's just a trifle — well — overwhelming."
"But you aren't furious with me?"
"James — James!" She began to press little kisses on his flabby face. "Of course not. I'm thrilled by your vision — proud of your courage — gratified to see you exhibit such intelligence and initiative. I've always known you had both qualities, but I also know that working in Richmond has been a miserable, frustrating experience. I'm so happy to learn it hasn't robbed you of your ambition —"
"The principal reason for my ambition is you, Ashton. I want you to be one of the most important women in the new Confederacy."
"Oh, darling —" Steeling herself, she squeezed his slippery face between her palms, kissed him, and pushed her tongue into his mouth. He uttered a groan as she dropped her hand to his right thigh. "I'm so proud of you."
Someone knocked softly — the kitchen, wondering about the overly long soup course. Ashton smoothed her gown, glanced into Huntoon's calf eyes — she knew what was inevitable tonight — and trilled, "Come in, Delia."
Huntoon returned to his place. But they had scarcely finished their cups of tasteless fruit ice when he was at her side again, pawing her dress and begging her to go to the bedroom. She pretended to be as breathless as he was, meekly offering her hand for him to lead her.