This Time Forever Read online

  This

  Time

  Forever

  Linda Swift

  This Time Forever

  Copyright© 2014 Linda Swift Reeder

  Prairie Rose Publications Edition 2018

  Cover Design Laura Shinn

  Prairie Rose Publications

  www.prairierosepublications.com

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Oswego, New York, December 1860

  "Thank God for the turned over collar." Philip smoothed the stiffly starched edges and adjusted his wide tie. "Greatest invention since Fulton's steamboat."

  "Yessir." Black hands buttoned his fitted vest with the speed of long practice.

  "Damned wonder those stand-up chokers fashion forced on the well-dressed male didn't sever the jugular vein."

  "That's for sure." Philip's complaint brought a low chuckle from the man who now stood holding his cut-away coat.

  He slid his arms into the sleeves and it settled in place, seams aligned perfectly on his broad shoulders. "Thank you, Elijah."

  Philip Elliot Burke surveyed himself in the pier glass of his dressing room with the same intensity that he studied bugs under a microscope. Finding no fault with the well-tailored tan jacket, neatly creased pin-striped trousers, and white linen shirt and tie, his eyes moved to thick black hair that refused to conform to the straight part he had so painstakingly made and he brushed at it impatiently and then stroked the line of his neat mustache with satisfaction. He had grown the mustache since he'd been away these last few months and he liked the air of sophistication it gave him. A look befitting a respected surgeon, which he was on the way to becoming in only one more semester at Harvard.

  "You're looking mighty fit, sir."

  Elijah's words echoed his own sentiments and Philip found it gratifying to know that his valet's intuitive ability to discern his thoughts and agree with them had not diminished in the time he had been absent.

  "Thank you, Elijah," he said again. "Fact is, I'm feeling fit as a fiddle. It's good to be back in Oswego to enjoy the holidays with all of you."

  "And good to have you back, sir." Elijah picked an almost invisible piece of lint from Philip's coat. "Will that be all, sir?"

  "Yes, thank you. And don't wait up for me. I expect to be very late."

  "Thank you, sir. Merry Christmas, Mistah Philip."

  "And a Merry Christmas to you, Elijah."

  Alone, Philip walked to the large window of his bedroom which faced the front of the house, pushed aside the heavy lace curtains and stared down at the snow-covered street. Large white flakes still falling made the dark waters of Lake Ontario barely visible in the gathering gloom. Philip thought of summers when he and his two brothers had sailed the bright blue waters, the sun warm on their faces. It seemed a long time ago.

  A noise below caught his attention and he recognized the carriage of his brother Edward. Leaning for a closer look, he watched as the door was opened and a man got out, then assisted a woman in a russet velvet cape and bonnet. Thinking of his sister-in-law, Philip wondered what new project Virginia might be involved in, and knew that very soon she would tell him. She glanced up at the window just then, saw his silhouette through the glass, and waved.

  Philip returned her greeting with genuine enthusiasm. Virginia Varick Burke was a firebrand who had brought her own outspoken opinions to the proper Burke family and he admired her tremendously. In time he hoped to wed a woman like her himself but his plans for the future looked grim at present. With a sigh, Philip turned away from the window and went downstairs.

  A blast of cold air accompanied the couple as they came inside where William and Helen Burke waited to welcome them.

  "I hope we aren't late, Mother Burke, but we have just now put the paper to bed. There was so much news coming in over the wires with South Carolina seceding and the other Southern states in such a turmoil." Virginia stopped for breath while her husband removed her cape and gave it to the butler, then she became aware of Philip, who had quietly joined them.

  "Well, here is our handsome bachelor, home at last." She embraced him warmly. "Let me get a look at you. My, how debonair you look with your mustache. How many hearts have you broken since we last saw you?"

  Philip shook his head and answered as he turned to shake hands with Edward. "I'm afraid my life at Cambridge leaves little time for socializing."

  "Well, it is the town's loss, little brother. And don't forget the old advice about all work and no play," Edward said with a wink.

  "I didn't send Philip to Harvard to acquire a wife," William grumbled. "God knows it has cost enough to acquire a degree."

  "You must be frozen, my dears," Helen said to fill the sudden silence. "Let's go into the drawing room. Thomas and Dorothea are already here." She took Edward's arm and turned to the butler. "Parson, would you bring the wassail, please?"

  Virginia linked arms with William and Philip and swept them along with her. "Oh, I just love Christmas, the carols and parties and presents." Coming into the drawing room, she stopped and clasped her hands together. "What a magnificent tree!" She walked slowly toward the tall spruce with its intricate strings of crimson berries interspersed with vivid bows and ornaments.

  "Yes," Philip agreed, "Mother has outdone herself this time." His eyes swept the magnificent room with its ornately carved mahogany furnishings and brilliant damask upholstery and drapes. Everywhere he looked, there were added festive touches of decoration that reflected the season.

  Suddenly remembering the two people seated on the sofa that had risen to greet her husband, Virginia apologetically turned to them. "Forgive me, Thomas and Dorothea, I tend to get carried away by the holiday spirit."

  "She certainly does," Edward agreed with an indulgent laugh. "She has decorated everything in our drab office except the press and I half expected to find paper bells hanging from that."

  Philip watched his brothers' wives exchange kisses; Virginia so vibrant with her auburn curls and contrasting green taffeta while Dorothea's mousey brown chignon blended into her tan satin gown with almost no contrast at all. The two women were as opposite as day and night, he thought, and each well suited to the men they had married.

  Parson entered with a tray and offered the steaming cups to the elder Burkes, then each of their children.

  "A Christmas toast, Father," Edward said and lifted his cup.

  William Burke was silent for a moment before he spoke. "To peace on earth, good will toward men."

  "Hear, hear," his family answered.

  "To peace on earth," Philip repeated in a low voice and raised the cup to his lips and drank.

  "Tomorrow, we're having all of our relatives for dinner," Helen told her children, "but tonight, I wanted to have only my sons and daughters." It was a mark of how much they had longed for girls of their own that Helen and William addressed their sons' wives as daughters.

  "How nice, Mother Burke." Virginia gave her mother-in-law an affectionate hug. "It will give us a chance to hear all about Philip's year at Harvard and we can catch him up on everything that has happened in Oswego since he left."

  "The latter shouldn't take very long," Edward said drily.

  "Speak for yourself, dear," Virginia tossed her head and fixed her husband with a mock frown. "I, for one, have lots of exciting things to tell."

  "Such as?" Philip encouraged.

  "Well," Virginia b
egan, "there is a new milliner's shop on Bridge Street that has the most divine bonnets."

  "I doubt my brother will find that news of any interest," Edward said as the others suppressed smiles.

  Ignoring her husband, Virginia went on. "A large grain elevator has been built near the Welland Canal for storing grain arriving from the West. And the Board of Education has just granted permission for a training school so that our Oswego High School graduates can prepare to teach the primary grades and they are using something new called an objective method in the classroom where the students collect pictures and things and actually discuss what is being studied."

  "I predict no serious scholars will emerge from that tomfoolery," William Burke snorted.

  "On the contrary, Father Burke. With less rote memory drills, students will be forced to use their minds more," Virginia argued.

  "It does seem somewhat radical," Thomas chimed in, supporting his father's view.

  "And speaking of radical, the Abolitionist Movement is spreading like wildfire," Dorothea contributed. "There are even open meetings at the town hall now."

  "They are very enlightening, too," Virginia added.

  "You've attended them, daughter?" William asked with a disapproving frown.

  "For the newspaper, Father Burke," Virginia explained. "But I've always felt slavery was wrong although I had no idea of the scope of the injustice being done to Negroes in the South until I heard these people relate their tales of horror."

  "It's risky to believe all the stories told by runaway slaves, daughter, or to print them in your paper," William cautioned. "It is certainly to their advantage to portray their masters in the harshest possible light."

  "But that's enough about our local happenings for now," Edward said decisively before Virginia could present a rebuttal. "What have you to tell us, little brother?"

  Philip set down his punch cup. "Nothing of great interest, I'm afraid. Burning the midnight oil, up at the crack of dawn to hit the books again, trying to cram more knowledge into this poor skull," he tapped his brow, "than it was meant to accommodate."

  Edward laughed, and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder. "Just don't be getting a swelled head from all that cramming, my boy."

  "What are they saying in Cambridge about the backwoodsman elected to the White House, Philip?" Thomas asked.

  "I have little time to discuss politics or read the newspapers, brother," Philip answered thoughtfully, "but the abolitionists there seem to feel they have an ally in Lincoln and my classmates from the South are outraged."

  "I believe our dinner is ready. Shall we discontinue this conversation until afterward when we can discuss it more fully over our cigars and drinks?" William suggested.

  "Then I'll miss it all, Father Burke," Virginia wailed.

  "So you will, dear," William agreed, "but I scarcely think it a fitting subject for women's minds in any case."

  "But women—" she began, and her husband put a gentle finger to her lips and finished the sentence for her.

  "Must depend upon their husbands to keep them informed."

  "Oh, posh!" Virginia hooked an arm through Philip's and flounced toward the dining room, leaving Edward to trail after them alone.

  Chatting about inconsequential things, they progressed from the clam chowder through roasted turkey and beef Wellington served with scalloped potatoes and a variety of vegetables to plum pudding with rum-and-raisin sauce. Philip savored every morsel, realizing how little he had appreciated the delectable bounties of his mother's table before his days at Harvard.

  "I can see that Mattie hasn't lost her culinary touch, Mother," Philip said as he polished off second helpings of everything including dessert. "This was the most wonderful meal I've had since I last ate with you."

  "Thank you, Philip. I'll be sure to tell Mattie that you said that." Helen smiled at her youngest son who had always held a special place in her heart.

  Philip looked after the maid who had refilled their cups with coffee and was returning to the kitchen with empty dessert dishes. "I don't recall seeing that one before, Mother. Is she new?"

  "That's Lucy. She's from Georgia," Helen explained quickly. "She came to us last month."

  Philip's eyebrows lifted. "A runaway?"

  Helen nodded, then said in a low voice, "Mattie's niece."

  "I learned of her connection with Mattie through the underground railway," Virginia confessed in a whisper from her place on the other side of Philip.

  He turned his head toward his sister-in-law in surprise. "Is this your cause célèbre of the hour, Virginia?"

  She met his eyes and shrugged, then added softly, "Someone must help them, you know. If not me, then who, Philip?"

  "Who must help what, dear?" asked Edward, catching only a few of his wife's words.

  "It's nothing worth discussing further, darling," Virginia reassured him quickly. "I've already bored everyone quite enough with my incessant babbling."

  "Shall we adjourn to the drawing room, daughters?" Helen asked as she rose from her chair. "I would like you to play so we can sing carols after a while, Philip," she smiled at him conspiratorially, "so please don't let your father and brothers linger too long over their drinks and cigars."

  "I'll try my best, Mother, but it won't be easy to persuade them against their wishes." Philip kissed his mother's cheek, then turned and followed the other men into the library.

  He was more than willing to comply with his mother's small request to provide music for the festive occasion, knowing how much pride she took in his musical talent. But he was also aware that his father was less than pleased with his youngest son's penchant for playing piano and leanings toward service to others instead of the manly pursuit of manufacturing and making money.

  Lighting a cigar and taking a tumbler of whiskey and soda mixed to exact specification by Parson, William surveyed his three sons and raised his glass. "Good health." As their glasses clinked together and the toast was completed, he added, "Though perhaps that's contrary to a surgeon's best interest?"

  "Just the opposite, Father. There'll always be more sickness than surgeons can successfully combat given the ignorance and poor hygiene of the population in general."

  "Yet you've chosen to fight an impoverished losing battle rather than enjoy success and prosperity?" William lifted an eyebrow in expectation of Philip's response to his rhetorical question.

  "Success is measured in many ways." Philip shrugged and toyed with his tumbler, not meeting his father's eyes, hoping to avoid further contention on the volatile subject of his chosen profession. It was a confrontation they had repeated many times since he had first rebelled against joining his father and Thomas at the foundry.

  "And astute observation for one so young, my little brother," Edward agreed, then turned to William. "It must be obvious that Philip, like myself, also marches to the sound of a different drummer, Father."

  "Humph. But the difference is that you have the Varick grist mill money to support your fledgling newspaper operation, Edward."

  "True," Edward nodded with a good-natured grin, "and the Varick's only heir in the bargain. I'm a very lucky man." He took a deep draw on his cigar and blew a series of perfect smoke rings into the air.

  "Yes, I agree," William took another sip of his drink, "but just don't let that impetuous wife of yours get too involved in all this abolitionist anarchy."

  "Anarchy? Why, freeing the slaves is the popular sentiment of the hour, Father."

  "Popular it may be, but a man's property is his own, to do with as he pleases."

  "Then you support slavery, Father?" Philip asked.

  "No, confound it!" William spluttered and puffed vigorously on his cigar. "But I do sympathize with our Southern land owners who are dependent on slave labor to maintain production on vast plantations."

  "There are always paid wages as a solution," Edward suggested mildly.

  "It's a complex problem we don't fully understand," William admitted cautiously, "and
I'm willing to leave it to the Southern states to settle."

  "But what about the territories?" Thomas asked. "It's spreading there, too."

  "Given enough time, the problem will solve itself," William answered with assurance. "The outcome of the election has proved that the majority of the people want a peaceful solution. But these hotheaded South Carolinian radicals seceding from the Union and urging other states to follow will have to be dealt with."

  "You mean war, Father?" Philip asked quietly.

  "Absolutely not." William ground out his cigar before he continued. "But the uprising will have to be quelled, just as John Brown was stopped by Robert E. Lee."

  "And the South will have its martyrs then just like the North," Edward commented.

  "But there are too many right-thinking leaders down there for the South to even entertain the idea of a civil revolt against the government, in spite of all their talk about states' rights," William said with conviction. "There will be no war. It is unthinkable."

  "I sincerely hope you're right, Father, but I'm convinced war will come, and very soon," Philip added.

  "I agree," Edward threw an arm around his younger brother's shoulder, "and I fear it will involve you, Philip, in the midst of it. So I hope and pray that if war comes, it will be swiftly won, even before you finish Harvard."

  "There will be a need for iron works in war," Thomas added, puffing with calm deliberation. "And much profit to be made. We could always use your services at the foundry, Philip."

  "I won't betray my chosen profession out of cowardice," Philip answered, "nor avarice."

  "An admirable attitude, Philip," William fixed him with a pitying look, "but totally foolhardy. However, since the probability of your becoming a soldier is so remote, you can safely indulge in such thinking." He motioned for Parson to bring another round of drinks and reached for a fresh cigar. "But enough talk of treachery and treason. It's Christmas Eve. Let's drink up and be merry."

  "For tomorrow..." Edward left the words unfinished but his eyes met Philip's in resignation and dread.