Life changed with the coming of the Civil War, a war the South embraced, but had little chance of winning. In spite of the War, the South clung to the old ways.
I especially remember Lieutenant Captain Jeffrey Dunston. Ah, Jeffrey, with his hair like burnished gold and his blue, blue eyes. Clad in his uniform and plumed hat, he cut quite a gallant figure the evening he rode up to the plantation astride a big black horse.
Dismounting, he climbed the stairs, one hand on the saber at his side, his bright blue eyes twinkling when he saw me standing in the doorway. Of course, it was considered quite scandalous for him to come calling when I didn’t have a proper chaperone, and even moreso to visit a lone female after dark. I was of the opinion that one of the reasons he enjoyed my company was my open disdain for propriety.
He bowed over my hand. “Miss Mara.”
“Lieutenant, this is a surprise.”
“A pleasant one, I hope.”
“But of course. Please, come in.”
After removing his hat, he followed me into the front parlor and, at my invitation, took a seat on the lovely, high-backed sofa.
“I’m afraid I have come to deliver bad news.” His thick Southern drawl poured over me, warm and sweet, like summer molasses.
“Bad news?” I sat beside him, my hands folded primly in my lap. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The Yankees are coming. It isn’t safe for you to stay here, with no chaperone and no one to protect you.”
“You’re very sweet to worry about me so, but I’m not afraid.”
“I know you’re not, Miss Mara, but I’m afraid for you. Promise me you will leave tomorrow, while there’s still time.”
I placed my hand on his and batted my eyelashes. “I appreciate your concern, Lieutenant, but I assure you I’ll be all right.” I smiled inwardly. It was the Yankees who should be afraid.
“You are far too brave.” Dunston sighed as he covered my hand with his own. “I’m afraid I have more bad news.”
“Oh, no.”
“My regiment is leaving tomorrow. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”
“That is bad news,” I said, and meant it. I had hoped to amuse myself with him for another few weeks. He was such a gentle, easygoing young man, it was hard to believe he was fit for battle. I couldn’t imagine him riding off to war, enduring hardship. Taking a life.
“Will you . . . ?” He cleared his throat. “Is there any chance that you’d . . .”
“That I’d what ?”
“Write to me.” A blush reddened his cheeks. “Wait for me. I know we haven’t known each other very long,” he said, his words tumbling over each other, “but we’ll whip those dirty Yankees in no time, and . . .”
“Don’t go, Jeffrey.”
“What?” He blinked at me. “I don’t understand.”
“Why don’t you stay here, with me, instead of going off to war?”
“Are you . . . are you asking me to desert my regiment?”
It was exactly what I was asking. I looked up at him through the veil of my lashes. “It sounds so awful, when you say it like that.”
“But that’s what you’re asking?”
“Wouldn’t you rather be here, with me?”
He sat up straighter. “Yes,” he replied stiffly, “but I cannot bring shame to my family, or to myself. And I cannot help being disappointed that you would suggest such a thing.”
“I’m sorry, Jeffrey,” I murmured contritely. “But I simply can’t abide the thought of you going off to war where you might be . . .” I sniffed loudly as I pulled a white lace hankie from my skirt pocket and dabbed at my eyes.
His expression immediately softened at my repentant look. “It’s all right, Miss Mara. And I’m . . . I’m deeply touched by your concern for my welfare. Truly, I am. But I must go.”
“Of course you must.” I gazed up at him. “Kiss me, Jeffrey. Kiss me once, before you go.”
“Miss Mara!” He looked as shocked as he sounded. Shocked and eager.
I seduced Jeffrey Dunston that night, promised him a new life if he would stay with me. Caught up in the throes of passion, bewitched by my preternatural power, he begged me to turn him so we could be together forever. It was a glorious night. I had seduced only a few virgins in my life. Their blood is the sweetest of all.
Jeffrey’s friends came looking for him the next day, quite frantic because he hadn’t slept in his bed the night before.
“Captain Cahill’s furious,” exclaimed a towheaded young man. “Iffen Jeffrey don’t show up right quick, he’s gonna be in mighty big trouble.”
The other two men nodded in agreement, their expressions somber.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, one hand pressed to my heart, “but I have no idea where Lieutenant Dunston might be.”
“He wasn’t here?” queried the towheaded young man. “He said he was a’ coming here to say his good-byes.”
“He did, indeed, come to bid me farewell, but he left soon after. He didn’t say where he was going, but I assumed he would be returning to his regiment. I do hope no harm has befallen him.”
“Obliged for your time and trouble, ma’am.”
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
I stood on the porch, my hand shading my eyes as I watched the trio mount and ride away. When they were out of sight, I went into the house, locked the door, and dismissed the servants for the night.
Humming “Rose of Alabamy,” I glanced upstairs. Come sundown, Lieutenant Jeffrey Dunston would rise, a newly made vampire. And like all of the newly Undead, he would be ravenous . . .
With a sigh, Mara sat back in her chair. Poor Jeffrey. In the throes of passion, he had begged her to bring him across. When he woke as a vampire, with the hunger raging through him, he had begged her to make him mortal again. And when he learned it wasn’t possible, he had turned away from her. She had tried to convince him that being a vampire wasn’t a bad thing, but, alas, she had failed. The next morning, before the Dark Sleep claimed him, Jeffrey had run out of the house to meet the dawn. When she realized what he intended to do, she had hurried after him, but she had been too late. One touch of sunlight on newly made preternatural flesh, and he had burst into flames. It had been over in an instant, but the sight of his body being consumed by flames had haunted her dreams for months. Years had passed before she turned anyone else.