High Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page A

of things. If Di-Peachy told her something, she would respond; otherwise, she’d just go about her business.
    “I’ve got to get out of here. If Mother comes looking for me, tell her I’ll be right back.”
    “It’s going to rain, Geneva. Don’t get wet and mess up your hair or your mother will mess with me.”
    “I need a half-hour ride, even fifteen minutes will do. My God, Di-Peachy, I want to get married and get it over with. I can’t stand all this carrying on.”
    “May I come in?” Henley stopped at the door.
    “Daddy!” Geneva kissed him.
    “I’ll see to your shoes.” Di-Peachy plucked two shoes out of an enormous wardrobe and left the room.
    “I hate to give you up, baby.” Henley put his chin on the top of Geneva’s head. About six inches taller than his daughter, Henley was the tallest man in the county with the exception of Big Muler, a servant of Nash’s. “If that boy ever lays a hand on you, you tell me.”
    “He would never!”
    “I hope so.” He kissed his daughter again. Why tell her how someone so right can turn out so wrong? Not that Lutie was a bad wife. He’d been fortunate in most respects but the fire burns out, people change, usually they grow apart. “I want you to be happy.”
    “I am, Daddy.” She pulled her old sweater from underneath a pillow on the window seat. “Want to take a short ride with me while I’m still a Chatfield?”
    “You’ll always be a Chatfield, honey.” Henley put his arm around her, and they snuck down the back stairway and headed for the stables.
    A light drizzle kept the servants busy as they dashed out quickly to carriages to cover the dismounting occupants with huge umbrellas. By 10:30 A.M . one hundred fifty people gathered at the Chatfield home. Laughter filled every room. Daniel Livingston, Poofy’s genial husband, was the object of much attention. There were few Northerners at the wedding, all of them being family in some way, but everyone was acutely aware that Virginia was neither fish nor fowl. She had not joined the seceding states. If Lincoln pressed for troops to squelch the insurrection, as it was referred to in Washington, it seemed inevitable that Virginia would go with the South. No one wanted Daniel to think there was any animosity toward him. Most of them had known him for upwards oftwenty years, and they hoped he understood that the bragging of the young men about whipping five Yankees with one hand tied behind their backs was not directed at him. Henley was upstairs with the bride so the pleasant task of being the host fell to Daniel. T. Pritchard Chalfonte also did his duty. Sumner apparently was upstairs with his mother. No one thought he’d come down with a case of nerves but he did. Nash Hart and his father stayed sequestered in a downstairs room at the end of the long hall.
    Sin-Sin paraded through the front door carrying a cobalt blue pot. She nodded to all and sundry. Sin-Sin was not coming in through the back door on Geneva’s wedding day. She entered the library, rich with the smell of leather-bound books, and placed her brilliant blue pot smack in the center of all the silver gifts.
    The ballroom filled with guests. It was now quarter to twelve. The orchestra played in the balcony overhead. Satin and silk crinkled. Swallowtails were flipped up so that the gentlemen could sit down without wrinkling their coats. Waistcoats and ladies’ dresses, all in soft pastels, were a garden of colors. Daniel herded everyone inside. At twelve o’clock Nash took his place at the altar. Sumner Chatfield, his best man, towered over the groom. The Very Reverend Franklin Manlius beamed at the congregation. He adored being able to stand before his own flock plus those wayward souls that were Methodists, Lutherans, Presbyterians, and even, shudder, Catholics. There was one of everything out there, even a Jew. Lutie walked down the aisle on the arm of Increase Hart, Nash’s father. A murmur of sympathy and affection greeted