And All That We've Won.

And we'll know what we've lost,

And all that we've won,

When the road finally takes me home.

Mary Fahl, "Going Home."

To put it mildly, Jane Lane was concerned.

Seriously concerned.

That summer, both she and her best friend, Daria Morgendorffer, the acknowledged cynic and "Misery Chick" of the town of Lawndale, Maryland, had made the acquaintance of one Richard John Rawlings, a Virginian Tidewater aristocrat whom they had "rescued" from the attentions of a waitress in a Lawndale diner. Over coffee they discovered that he was apparently following the path of a relation who had taken part in the Maryland Campaign of 1862 as an officer in the Confederate Army. With Daria under threat of her mother trying to find a summer holiday activity plus the additional imminent threat of an upcoming reunion of all the Barksdale-Morgendorffer women at Schloss Morgendorffer hanging over Daria's head, Jane and Daria did something rare for them: they volunteered to help this stranger (who had been described by Jane, much to Daria's disgust, as 'seriously cute', an assessment that Daria obliquely agreed with) in his researches, hoping to pass it off to Helen Morgendorffer as research for a story Daria was going to write. Thus began a brief period during the summer break that would change much for virtually everyone concerned.

During the course of that period they found out that, although Rawlings actually was a Virginian Tidewater aristocrat, he was also a Confederate general who had come from an alternative reality where the South had won the Civil War. He was, in fact, following the path of his counterpart in Daria and Jane's universe as a part of his mission to learn as much about their world as he could. Somehow, during all of this, he had managed to bring about a cease-fire between the Barksdale-Morgendorffer women while a guest at their dinner, something which astonished all who knew the family.

But, most important of all, both he and Daria had fallen for one another. Seriously fallen for one another.

The problem that this generated was that they were literally from two completely different worlds. In Daria's world it was the early Twenty-First Century, but in Rawlings' world the year was 1868. And while Rawlings had managed to adjust quite well to Daria and Jane's world, it was no guarantee that Daria, if she accompanied Rawlings back to his world, would be able to make a similar adjustment. Besides, Rawlings' presence in Daria and Jane's world was a big secret which had all sorts of nasty implications for anyone who stumbled across it and learned just who he was. The only reason the US Government did not know that Daria and Jane had found out about Rawlings' origins was a determination on his part to involve the US Government in his affairs as little as possible. Besides, it was not guaranteed that Daria would be allowed to accompany Rawlings back to his world, just as it was not guaranteed that he would be allowed to remain in Daria's world.

In the end, the pair of them had agreed to make what they could of the time they had together and try to stay in touch as much as they can. They had managed to do so, with Rawlings writing at least once a week, with Daria replying almost immediately. However, Jane could see that, with each letter she received from Rawlings Daria was worried that it would be the dreaded 'last letter' telling her that he was returning to his world for good. And, although her best friend was putting up a very good front to the rest of the world, Jane, from not only knowing her for several years now, but also from sharing an apartment with her, could see that Daria was actually beginning to go into a bit of a decline. It was clear to Jane, and Daria's sister Quinn, who had recently moved to Boston that year to start her studies at Boston University, that Daria was pining for her love. So Jane was concerned about her best friend, especially what she might do if she ever received the dreaded 'last letter.'

What Jane wanted to do, not just to Daria but also to Rawlings was to grab them by the scruff of their necks, shake them and basically say, Look! You two belong together! So work something out! But then that would bump up against the 'different worlds' factor. And the alternative course Jane could take with Daria, which was basically get her dating some of the college boys around Boston, would not work. Not because the boys weren't interested: on the contrary; they were very interested. It wasn't as though Daria had been paying any great attention to her looks: on the contrary she had been paying even less attention than usual. It was as if somehow this fact, which Jane put down to her pining for Rawlings, had somehow brought to the surface Daria's fragile, understated beauty, which made the college boys notice her. Daria however just wasn't interested.

Jane put this down to the fact that Daria's first, really great romance (and quite possibly, given the way she was acting, her only great romance) was with a man who not just exceeded Daria's very high standards, but set a standard that no college boy could ever meet. He was highly intelligent, well educated, urbane, cultivated, and very civilised. But just as important, Rawlings was someone who Quinn had commented on as being "seriously hot." He had the classic good looks that people tended to associate with Southern aristocrats, which was only appropriate since he was one, combined with a haunted look to his eyes which made him that much more endearing to women. Add to that his antebellum air and manners and you had a man who, without even trying, was a bona fide ladykiller.

Personally Jane suspected that Daria had been spoiled by Rawlings in that he was an impossible yardstick to compare other men by. And finally, Rawlings was a real man who had never ever felt the need to prove his masculinity to anybody, least of all himself. Must have been the fact that he had basically gone through his world's version of the bloodiest war ever fought by Americans, Jane had thought to herself. There's a test of manhood right there. And he was an officer, and so had to set an example for all the others to follow. Still, Jane was concerned about her friend, and frustrated about her seeming inability to do something about it.

Until one day when she gained an ally in her desire to do something about Daria's situation.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hello? Misery Chick Manor, where Misery loves Company, Art Geek speaking. How may we ignore you?" Jane said.

A familiar chuckle came across the 'phone line. "Somehow I suspect I've got the right number," the voice attached to it said. "How're things, Jane? And how is one of my favourite nieces doing?"

A smile came across Jane's face. "Hi, Amy!" she said. "Which niece are you asking after? If it's Quinn, well, she's settled in quite well into the dorms at Boston. She's managed to share a room with Stacy Rowe."

"I'm actually asking after Daria," Amy said. "Don't get me wrong, however: it's still good to hear about Quinn. However, I'd like to hear just how Daria is doing."

Jane's face fell. "If you mean by her grades," she said, "quite well. Her writing is doing well too. But personally..." She let out a sigh. "Amy, it's frustrating! She's getting a lot of attention from the college boys, but she's not interested. In fact, she seems to be going into something of a decline." She paused for a moment and then added, "And I think I know why that is."

On her end of the line, Amy sighed. "Let me guess," she said. "This has something to do with a certain Virginian gentleman she met during the summer break. Am I right?"

"Got it in one," Jane said. "Richard Rawlings was easily the best thing that has ever happened to Daria, and the worst. I have never seen her so happy as when she was with him, and I've never seen her so despondent. And it keeps getting worse with each letter she gets from him."

"Why?" asked Amy. "I take it he writes fairly regularly."

"At least once a week," Jane said. "But she's terrified that each letter she gets from him may well be the dreaded 'last letter' telling her that he's returning... well, you know where. And the stress that puts her under is taking its toll. Mind you, it seems to be highlighting the fact that she has a classic kind of beauty all her own, which she is reluctant to admit, and is drawing the attention of a lot of college boys, many of them quite nice. However..."

Amy sighed. "I think I know what you mean by that," she said. "They may be nice, but they're still boys in many ways. And Daria's experienced a relationship, no matter how brief, with someone whom even I can see is a real man. And that has given her a yardstick that a lot of guys will find very hard to measure up against." She paused for a moment and then said, "Is she eating?"

"She is," Jane said, "but her appetite has slackened off somewhat. And as I said, her grades are still quite good. But there's her workspace setup, which, even though I can appreciate her reasons for decorating it the way she has, still kinda freaks me out when i think about it."

"What about her workspace?" asked Amy.

"Well, she managed to find the complete text of the Sullivan Ballou letter on the Web," said Jane. "Richard played an extract that was read on that documentary series on the Civil War."

"Ah," said Amy. "I think I know the one. I take it had an impact?"

"By the time it had ended me, Daria and Quinn were all in tears," Jane said. "Quinn even said that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard read, which is quite a statement. Even thinking about it can be enough for me to tear up somewhat, especially when I think about what Richard had said to Daria. Anyway, she found the full text of the letter and had it framed. It's hanging on the wall above her workspace next to the photo she found of Sullivan Ballou's grave marker."

"She found a picture of his grave?" Amy said. "And she has it hanging next to the full text of the letter? That strikes me as being a tad disturbing."

"The photo isn't even of the complete gravestone," Jane said. "It's of the inscription, showing his birth and death dates, and the last line in the letter: 'I wait for you there. Come to me, and lead thither my children.' She's using them to prepare herself for the 'last letter.' But I'm worried about what may happen when she does receive it."

"You don't think..." Amy said.

"No," Jane said. "I don't think Daria would take her own life. But she may well stop living, if you know what I mean, and just simply exist. Either way, I'm afraid that the person I regard as my best friend will disappear. And, even though it's very selfish of me, I do not want that to happen."

"I don't think that is at all selfish, Jane," said Amy. "Sounds to me like you're concerned about your friend, who just happens to be one of my favourite nieces." She paused, and then said, "And although I do understand her motives in getting copies of Sullivan Ballou's letter and grave marker, it still strikes me as being somewhat unhealthy."

"She also carries at least one of those autographed copies of Poe that Richard bought her pretty much at all times," Jane said. "And she has started dressing, well, more like..."

"More like someone from the middle of the Nineteenth Century?" Amy asked.

"Well, yeah," said Jane. "Mind you, it does look good on her, and she hasn't gone the whole hog with it. Just a high-collared long-sleeved blouse, a long skirt and a jacket. And she's wearing wire-rimmed oval glasses. Oh, and the choker Richard bought for her." Jane hesitated, and then said , "She's also visited Emma Harrison's grave. Several times, in fact."

On her end of the line, Amy raised her eyebrows. "What does she do?" she asked.

"Sometimes she just stands there," Jane said. "But sometimes I've caught her talking. I think she's speaking to Emma Harrison. About Richard."

"I see," said Amy. "Her behaviour is a little worrying." On her end of the line she thought for a moment and then said, "Jane, don't tell Daria but I'm coming up to see her."

Jane nodded. "Ok," she said. "But then what?"

"I don't really know," Amy said. "But we'll see when I get there."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Perhaps both Jane and Amy would have felt much easier about the situation they were discussing if they had been aware that it was also the topic of a conversation between two of Richard John Rawlings' colleagues. They were several hundred miles to the south and east of Amy's position in Georgetown, and were in fact seated on a pair of horses on the bank of the York River, with Mount Folly seated on a rise behind them.

"Well," said the larger and older of the two, "we do know something else about this lass that Rawlings is pining away over. She has an aunt up in Georgetown."

The younger one stroked his beard. "I went through Georgetown once," he said reminiscently. "It was just after that big showdown we had with the Army of the Potomac up in Pennsylvania. The only reason I was able to do that was because the Yankees had stripped plenty of their troops out of the Washington defences to put into the field against us, enabling Mosby to find us a path right through them."

The older man snorted laughter. "And after you rode through those same defences and went through Georgetown they pulled them back into the defences, along with the Army of the Potomac, enabling us to march through Pennsylvania and Maryland pretty much as we wished." He puffed reflectively on his cigar. "Good thing is that we not only got the Yankees out of Northern Virginia for a season we also were able to reoccupy the old defensive works around Manassas Junction and in the Valley for that winter, which gave us that much extra room to play with when campaigning resumed in '64."

The younger man grinned. "Mind you, you had fun out West, when you took a couple of divisions with you to reinforce Bragg's army and took over when he was wounded at Chickamauga. Managed to turn the Yankees out of Chattanooga."

The older man snorted. "I suppose so," he said. "However, I soon came up against my old friend Sam Grant." He puffed reflectively on his cigar. "I swear he was the toughest general any of us had ever fought," he continued. "And seeing in the histories of that other War, how he measured up against the Old Man, I think I can safely say that." The younger man nodded. He, too had read the histories of what his companion had referred to as that other War.

The older man changed the subject. "So," he said, leaning forward and patting the neck of his mount. "What do you think of the horses you saw out Kentucky way?"

The younger man snorted. "They're good horses," he said, "and importing some of them will go a long way to improving our own bloodstock. But they seem to have forgotten how to breed a decent cavalry horse, let alone horses fit for pulling wagons. Must be all these motorised vehicles they have."

The older man smirked at his companion. "I seem to recall you making a couple of purchases of some 'motorised vehicles'," he said. "And you seem pretty happy with that... what is it? Oh, yes, that Harley-Davidson motor-cycle you bought. Not to mention the matching one for your wife and the sports-car."

The younger man shrugged. "What can I say?" he asked. "The motor-cycles allow me to go some places. And I had to get Flora one to keep her happy. The sports-car, well, it allows me to get into places where the motor-cycles are not, shall we say, all that acceptable?" He suddenly grinned. "Anyway, I think I've found a supply of horses that will be just as acceptable and a damn sight easier for us to access."

The older man raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he said. "Where?"

"Believe it or not, Australia," the younger man said. "Turns out that the British Army, not to mention their Indian auxiliaries, were importing horses from Australia for service in India in the 1860's and later in this world. It stands to reason that they are doing the same in our world."

The older man puffed on his cigar. "Makes sense," he said. "They're both hot, uncomfortable climates, sort of like Texas and Mexico. We should look into this when we get back, or at least send a message to have Richmond look into it."

"And the other matter?" asked the younger man. "General Rawlings?"

The older man took his cigar out of his mouth. "We're both heading up to Washington City in a couple of days time to meet with this Joint Chiefs-of-Staff of theirs," he said. "They're trying to sell us some kind of weapons system. While we're there I'll call the university Miss Amy Barksdale is at and see if I can talk to her."

"Does she know...?"

The older man nodded. "Her name was given to Rawlings as a safe contact," he said. "And it turns out she's a connexion of old William Barksdale of Mississippi."

"Is that a fact?" the younger man said.

"It is indeed," the older man said. He looked at his pocket watch. "We'd best be heading on back," he said. "We've been gone long enough to give these horses a good testing ride." Together they kicked their horses into motion and followed the path alongside the river.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Central Burial Ground, Boston.

Daria Morgendorffer walked through the old gates of Boston's Central Burial Ground and headed for a particular gravesite. She was dressed in what had become her new look: a long dark-green dress that almost brushed the ground and a matching jacket worn over a high-collared long-sleeved blouse with a black velvet choker with a cameo worn around her neck. Despite the fact that she still wore her hair down and was wearing wire-rimmed oval-shaped glasses, plus her Doc Martins underneath her skirt, she almost fit the stereotypical image of a mousy librarian. It also showed off what was a quite attractive figure, but was still modest enough for Daria's tastes. In her hands she carried a spray of forget-me-nots and she also wore her backpack.

She paused in front of one grave and then, kneeling, placed the spray of flowers on the slab that covered it. On the headstone was written: Emma Alexandra Harrison. Born Boston, November 25, 1843, Died April 3, 1861. You Will Always Be In Our Hearts. Just above the inscription was a photograph of Emma Harrison, which looked as though it had been recently attached to the headstone. Daria assumed that it had been something that Rawlings had arranged.

Beside Emma's grave were headstones and slabs that marked the final resting places of Emma's parents and her brother. Daria noted that he had been killed at Gettysburg and realised that he had, in all likelihood, been facing his good friend, the Richard John Rawlings of Daria's world without knowing it. I wonder how Richard handled that little revelation? she had thought at the time. She later realised that Rawlings had probably done the same in his world. All of the graves were well tended, and all looked as though they had been refurbished sometime in the recent past. Daria was sure Rawlings had been behind that.

She knew he had visited the gravesite. In front of the headstone was a weathered picture frame containing a photograph showing Emma Harrison arm-in-arm with a younger Richard John Rawlings, who wore the uniform of the antebellum United States Army. Daria had to admit that he looked very good in a uniform.

When Daria had first found the grave she was a little creeped out to find that she and Emma Harrison both shared the same birthday. However, she came to accept this. She had also been wierded out by the realisation that she and her long-dead distant cousin had shared more than a love for Rawlings: save for the glasses Emma Harrison more than resembled Daria Morgendorffer in appearance. Daria, however, put that down to the connection between the Barksdales and the Harrisons. However she became accustomed to her resemblance to her long-dead distant cousin. Subconsciously, however, she was beginning to change her look to more closely match Emma Harrison's, something which gave Jane further cause for worry.

She sat back on her heels. "Hello, Emma," she said to the gravesite. "It's your distant cousin Daria again. I've come down to see... no, that sounds stupid. Well, anyway, I've come down here to see you and give you some of the latest news. Also to talk a few things over."

She took off her backpack and, reaching into it, drew out an envelope. "Richard wrote again," she said. "He's well, and he's glad to hear that the staff here are looking after your grave, as well as those of your family. He's grateful that I'm keeping an eye on that sort of thing and appreciative that I'm visiting you. I've even told him that I tell you about what he puts in his letters. Of course I'm quite sure that if Jane ever found that out she'd assume that I've finally gone round the bend.

"Richard thinks that he may be coming up in the fall to possibly register either at Boston or Raft. Understandably I have some mixed feelings about this. I'm glad in a way because it will mean that we will be spending more time with each other, but I'm also a little apprehensive as this could be the last time I see him before he has to go back to his world. On that note I believe that he has only told a couple of close colleagues who are quite sympathetic about our situation. Understandably he hasn't written back to the President of the Confederate States asking for permission to marry me: that would be guaranteed to have him whipped back into his world, possibly without even being given a chance to say goodbye."

Daria shifted on her heels. "It's strange, really, me talking like this," she said. "I can't help but have the feeling that you are actually somewhere nearby, listening to what I am saying." She wryly chuckled at the thought. "But, like I said, if Jane heard me saying things like that she'd possibly be calling the Department for Mental Health here in Boston to send out the guys with the white coats and oversized butterfly net in their rubber truck. And, well, I prided myself on being a strict rationalist. However, I have to admit that last summer sort of undermined my belief in that sort of thing.

"So, here I am talking to a dead person, and not finding it all that strange. Like I said, I have this feeling that you're standing nearby, quite possibly with your Richard John Rawlings on your arm, and surrounded by your family, listening to me. One good thing: you're a pretty good listener. And talking like this helps me work out a few things, at least until I get another letter. Don't get me wrong: I like it that we write each other quite regularly. It's just..." She trailed off, and then continued: "It's just that each letter seems to bring the possibility of the last letter, the one telling me that he's returning back to his world, that much closer. And i can tell that Jane's also dreading my receiving the 'last letter'. I don't think she think's I'll take my own life, but I can see that she's concerned that I may not want to live, that I may just exist. And I'm not too sure that would be all that bad a thing. But I do know that i will want to still have Jane as my best friend: if anyone can help put off that fate, where I simply become an emotionally dead person, it would be her."

Daria got up. "Well, Emma," she said. "I suppose I had better get going. I've got class in about a couple of hours and, much as reading here in a graveyard would be relaxing, I don't think it would do Jane's mental equilibrium much good. Especially if I start reading my Poe here. So, until next time." She replaced the envelope in her bag and headed for the exit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Daria did not know that she was being watched. But not by dead people. These people were both alive and well.

"You see what I mean?" Jane said to the woman standing beside her. "I don't think that sort of behaviour is all that healthy."

Amy Barksdale said nothing, but watched her niece walk out of the Central Burial Ground and head down the road to catch a bus back to Raft. After a moment, she turned to Jane. "Do you have any classes that you can't cut?" she asked her.

Jane was taken somewhat aback by that question. "Not really," she said. "I'm actually ahead in my prac work, and I can catch up on some of the theoretical stuff. Why?"

Amy looked at her. "First, we head back to your apartment so you can pack what you'll need. Then, we head for the airport."

"Airport!" said Jane. "Why? What have you got in mind?"

Amy gave Jane a determined look. "You and I are going on a trip down South to see a certain Southern gentleman," she said. "We're going to see if we can settle this once and for all."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Several hours later Amy and Jane were debarking from a domestic flight at Concourse A, Richmond International Airport.

"Ok, so we're here in what was the capital of the Confederacy," Jane said to Amy as they waited to claim their luggage. "What now?"

"Well, we claim our luggage and go out to Mount Folly and try to see Richard," Amy said.

"Do you have any idea just how we're going out there?" Jane said. "Or even where it is? Somehow I don't think you're all that familiar with Richmond."

"Well," said Amy as she recovered her overnight bag from the luggage carousel, "we get ourselves a map of the area, go hire a car and drive out."

"If we can get a hire car," replied Jane as she recovered her bag. "Besides, Richard may not even be there. He has to travel a fair bit doing... well, what he is doing. Besides, he also asked Daria and me to ring him first before going out there. But that was before we found out what he was doing so that, well, he could get things all sorted for visitors."

Amy looked at Jane. "I take it you have his 'phone number?" she asked.

"I think so," Jane said. "He gave it to me and Daria before he left Lawndale. I think it's in my personal organiser... which is currently packed in my overnight bag." She looked around the airport terminal. Seeing a group of chairs, she went over and, placing her bag on them, opened it up and searched inside it. "Ah!" she said. "Here it is."

She turned to look at Amy. "Do you want to call him, or should I?" she asked.

Amy thought for a moment and then said, "You'd probably better call him. After all, I hardly know him."

"And you wanted to speak to him about Daria," Jane said. "But, then again, so do I." She looked around the terminal again. "Payphones are over there," she said, indicating a sign pointing to where a bank of payphones were located.

"Why don't you use your cell phone?" Amy asked.

"It's a pre-paid," Jane said. "I only use it for emergencies and so people can get in touch with me. And while I will say that this is a somewhat urgent situation, it isn't a dire emergency."

Together they went over to where the sign had indicated the pay 'phones were. Putting down her bag, Jane reached into her pocket and fished out her coin purse. Opening it, she took out some change. She then opened her organiser and retrieved the 'phone number Rawlings had given her. She then dialled the number and waited as the connection was made. After a while she heard the 'phone being picked up. "Mount Folly, Rawlings residence," said a deep voice which, save for the accent, immediately put her in mind of James Earl Jones. "Israel Horton speaking."

"Hello?" said Jane. "Could I please speak to Richard John Rawlings please?"

"I'm afraid that Mister Rawlings is currently unavailable," replied Horton. "Could I have a name and a contact telephone number, please? I will get him to call you back as soon as possible."

Damn, though Jane. "Just a minute," she said. Placing her hand on the mouthpiece she turned to Amy and said "He's out somewhere. I can leave a message and get him to call my cell 'phone."

Amy reached over. "Give me that," she said. Shrugging, Jane handed her the handset. "Hello? This is Amy Barksdale. Jane and myself are here to speak to General Rawlings about my niece, a Ms. Daria Morgendorffer, who is, to all intents and purposes, pining away for him."

There was a moment of silence on the line. Just as Amy was beginning to wonder if she had ruined things with that outburst, she heard the voice on the other end say, "I see. I am afraid that the general is unavailable, Miss Barksdale. However, there is someone here who may be able to help you. If you will hold on for a moment?"

"All right," Amy said. As soon as she said that she heard some music come through the line. The Royal Fireworks Music, Amy thought as she recognised the tune. Well, it's better than most of the "hold muzak" that you usually get. Aloud, she said to Jane, "They're getting someone who can help us with what we're doing, apparently. This could get interesting." Jane said nothing but raised her eyebrows.

After a moment, the music stopped. Another voice, this one redolent with the accents of Georgia, came onto the line. "Hello?" it said. "Miss Barksdale?"

"This is Amy Barksdale," Amy replied. "May I know who I am speaking to?"

"I'd rather not give out my name over this line, Miss Barksdale," the voice replied, "but I can tell you that I am a... colleague of Richard's. He's actually mentioned both you and your niece to myself and another colleague of mine. In fact, we were hoping to speak with you on this matter when we head up to Washington City next week."

"Oh?" said Amy. "Well, I'm glad I saved you a side trip then."

"I understand you're in Richmond as we speak?" asked the voice.

"At Richmond International Airport," she replied. "Concourse A. We only just got in. Myself and Jane Lane."

"Ah, yes, Miss Lane. One of the two 'alien love-goddesses' he said he'd met up North," replied the voice. His amusement at the 'alien love-goddess' bit was quite clear. "The other being, of course, your own estimable niece. Whom I have heard a fair bit about, I might add.

"Anyway, I'll be sending my colleague to the air-port to collect the pair of you. I understand it could be about an hour's wait, what with traffic and all. I hope you understand that we're both used to a somewhat different Richmond, shall we say?"

"I understand what you're saying, sir," Amy said. "And please, it's 'Amy'."

"How about we leave the formal introductions until we can meet face-to-face?" said the voice. "Without any other ears to overhear."

"All right then," Amy said. "By the way, how will we know your colleague, since we're only familiar with Richard?"

The voice chuckled. "Oh, he'll make himself known," it said. "Of that, I have no doubt. I'll see the pair of you in a couple of hours."

"Thank you very much," said Amy. "Goodbye." She hung up and turned to Jane. "I spoke to someone who said he was one of Richard's colleagues," she said. "He's sending someone to pick us up. He also said that he'd make himself known to us."

"Hmmm," said Jane. "This could get interesting. Hopefully not in the Chinese sense of the word." She looked around. "Should we wait outside?"

Amy looked over at a set of seats just inside the main entrance. "We wait over there," she said. "It's warm outside and if we are accosted by airport security, we can say that we're waiting to be picked up and that it's a little too warm outside."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The older man turned to his younger colleague. "They're waiting at the air-port," he said. "Concourse A."

The younger man nodded. "I know where the air-port is," he said. "Saw it when I was retracing my steps in the Seven Days. Bit odd seeing something like that where you remember was nothing but some small farmsteads and swamp."

"You got a map?"

"One of the first things I invested in when we came here," the younger man said. "Also got me one of those street-directories. Useful thing. Perhaps we can introduce the idea when we return home?"

"We well could," said the older man. "But you had best get going. It's not nice to keep ladies waiting." As the younger man turned to go the older man said "How are you going to find them?"

"Easy!" replied the younger man. "All I have to do is get the sergeant-major to get me a large sheet of drawing paper and one of those large felt-tipped pens and write their names on it. 'Barksdale and Lane', isn't it?"

The older man chuckled and shook his head.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

About forty-five minutes later the younger man pulled up in the short-term parking area of Richmond International's Concourse A. He got out of his sports-car tourer and keyed it locked. Then, taking his sign out of his coat pocket, he headed off to where the signs said Arrivals.

Walking in through the front doors he saw, sitting where they could get a good look at who came in through them, a tall, slender young woman seated next to another woman who could easily pass for an older version of the young lady in the coloured photograph he had seen on the mantlepiece in the withdrawing room at Mount Folly. It's an even bet that those are the people I've come to pick up, he thought to himself. Smiling, he walked over towards them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Don't look now," said Amy, indicating the young man as he walked through the front doors of the terminal, "but I daresay that's our ride."

Jane looked over to where Amy was pointing. She saw there a moderately tallish young man, who, at second glance, seemed around the same age as Rawlings. Whereas Rawlings wore a chin beard and moustaches, this man, however, wore a very bushy, but reasonably well-shaped reddish-brown beard which covered his entire lower face. His moustache was just as impressive. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, which he wore underneath a broad-brimmed hat which was rakishly worn on top of his head.

He wore a white linen shirt of similar cut to the one Rawlings had worn in Lawndale, but underneath a stylish, expensive-looking dark-blue coat. Instead of trousers, however, he wore denim jeans cut in a trouser-like fashion held up by a leather belt with a gilded buckle. Also unlike Rawlings he wore a wristwatch, which also appeared expensive, but not ostentatiously so. His jeans were worn over what appeared to be worn, but good quality flat-heeled riding boots which, as he came closer to them, were obviously hand-made. Probably made to fit him, Jane thought as she stood up to greet him.

"Miss Amy Barksdale?" the man said as he halted in front of them. "Miss Lane?" He spoke with a pleasant light tenor, flavoured with the accents of antebellum Virginia. At their nods he said, "I've come to take you to Mount Folly, so if you'll just allow me to take your bags, we'll be off."

"Do you mind if we ask your name, sir?" asked Amy. She grimaced slightly as she realised that the presence of these antebellum Southerners from another world had caused all of her training at the expensive girls' school she and her sisters had attended, and which she had thought she had dumped when she went into academia, to automatically kick in.

"Of course not," said the man as he took off first his sunglasses and then, with the same hand, his hat. This revealed that he was possessed of boyish good-looks, which the beard aged to what was probably his real age. He smiled (one that was just as boyish, which added to his charm), and gave a small bow. "James Ewell Brown Stuart at your service. But I insist that you call me Jeb."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Jane and Amy followed a laden Jeb Stuart back to where he had parked his car Jane reflected on the strange turn events had recently taken.

When Stuart had introduced himself his name had not fully registered with Jane. She had thought to herself, Why does that name sound familiar? Then she turned to look at Amy to ask her a question, only to see that Amy's eyes had widened quite considerably and her jaw had dropped so low that it had threatened to completely detach itself from her face.

Jane had seen that look on Amy's face once before: in her living room back in Lawndale when Rawlings had revealed himself to be a Confederate general from another world where the South had won its independence. So this guy is someone Amy recognises, Jane had thought. Then, the lessons in American history that Jane had sat through in DeMartino's class began to surface in her consciousness. As the realisation of just who was standing in front of her hit Jane took in a surprised breath and, her own face betraying her astonishment, turned back to face Stuart. "Waitaminute," she said. "Jeb Stuart? You mean, the Confederate cavalry general? That Jeb Stuart?"

Stuart's smile turned into a broad grin. Giving another small bow he said, "I do have that honour and privilidge." Still grinning he replaced his hat and sunglasses, then bent down to pick up their bags. Straightening, he said, "Shall we? I'm parked not all that far away." Without waiting for a reply he turned around and started to head out of the terminal. Looking back at Amy, Jane shrugged, and started to follow Stuart out of the terminal. After a moment Amy shook herself and moved to catch up.

Now, as they both followed Stuart through the car park, Jane could hear Amy muttering to herself. To her ears it sounded like This can't be happening, mixed in with I don't believe it. "Something the matter, Amy?" Jane said.

Amy turned to face Jane. "We have got Jeb Stuart, a figure straight out of a history book on the Civil War, carrying our luggage to whatever car he may have and you are asking me if there's something the matter?! I don't believe it!"

Jane simply shrugged. "Hey," she said. "After last summer I figured that if I'm going to be involved in weird-ass events I might as well see if I can just enjoy the ride." She indicated Stuart. "Besides, I think we've arrived." Stuart had halted in front of what appeared to be a quite expensive-looking car.

As they came up both Jane and Amy saw that Jeb Stuart drove not a Mercedes-Benz, but a 1996 Mark III Jaguar XJS Grand Tourer sports car convertible, painted in the traditional British Racing Green. He unlocked the car and, heading around to the back, opened the trunk. "I'll just put your bags in here and then we can head off," he said to Jane and Amy. "We will be making a brief side-trip into Richmond, though, to pick up my wife."

"You managed to bring your wife?" Amy said.

Stuart nodded. "We're here looking at horses," he said, "and Flora is considered to be one of the best horsewomen in the South." He shut the trunk and opened the passenger side door. "I'll have to ask you ladies to get into the back," he said as he folded the front seat forward. "It's slightly cramped, so I apologise in advance for any inconvenience." He stepped back, allowing Jane and Amy to enter the back of the car. It was slightly cramped for Jane, who had recently undergone a late growing spurt, but Amy, who also shared her niece's short frame, was able to sit in the rear in some comfort. Stuart replaced the front passenger seat, shut the door and, going round to the driver's side got in. He then started the car and they began to drive off.

Even moving at a relatively slow speed through the airport parking area Jane and Amy could feel the power of the big cat's engine. I suppose I shouldn't be all that surprised that someone like Jeb Stuart would choose a car like this, Jane thought as they exited the airport precent and began to move along the main road into Richmond.

Soon they were entering the historic part of Richmond, driving past the neoclassical State Capitol building and the driveway that led down to the Governor's Mansion and on into the inner city's shopping precinct. Suddenly Stuart pulled his car in front of where a moderately tallish, handsome woman dressed in a coat, long skirt and boots was waiting. She, too, wore aviator sunglasses and she had some shopping bags on her arm.

Stuart got out of the car and opened the passenger side door for the woman, who put both herself and her bags in the front passenger side seat. He then got back into the car, planted a brief kiss on the woman's lips and then drove back out into the Richmond traffic.

The woman turned back to face Jane and Amy. "I see we have some company, Jeb," she said. "Mighty good-looking company, too." Her tone, however, belied her words, while her accent, which spoke of her years in Virginia, had an undertone that also spoke of years spent somewhere in the Mid-West.

Stuart said, "Ladies, may I introduce my lovely wife Flora Cooke Stuart? Flora, these are Miss Amy Barksdale and Miss Jane Lane. Miss Barksdale is the smaller and more mature of the two." He continued, "They're here to discuss a certain matter involving our host at Mount Folly."

"Ah." Flora reached over and held out her hand. "Glad to see you then," she said.

"In fact," Stuart continued, "Miss Barksdale's the aunt of the young lady old 'Reckless' is pining away for."

Flora looked at Amy with renewed interest. "Is that a fact?" she said. "You do have the look of your niece about you, if the photograph on the mantlepiece in the withdrawing room is something to go by." She raised an eyebrow. "You just might be able to help us prevent old 'Reckless' from doing something stupid."

"'Reckless'?" said Jane.

"Oh, didn't he tell you his nickname?" Stuart said. "His men gave it to him, and it took off like wildfire amongst the officers of the Army of Northern Virginia." In the rear-view mirror Jane and Amy saw Stuart's grin. "He took more personal risks than just about any officer in the Army of Northern Virginia, which, when you consider that pretty much all of the army's senior commanders had what the Old Man called 'a very bad habit' of exposing themselves to danger, says something."

"Mind you, this one," Flora said, indicating her husband, "was almost as bad." She gave him a look of affectionate annoyance mixed with some resignation. "But 'Reckless Rawlings' tended to have them all beat."

"True," said Stuart. "He had to be ordered to the rear by General Lee in person after he was wounded at Chancellorsville. And in the '64 campaign he put himself in places no corps commander had any real right to be."

"He commanded a corps in the Army of Northern Virginia?" said Amy. "He didn't say anything about that! Nor did he say anything to us about being wounded at Chancellorsville."

"He did say something about that to Daria," Jane said. "When she saw the wounds on his torso and asked where they were from. She told me about it." Left unsaid were the circumstances in which Daria had seen Rawlings' wounds, although everybody in the car could make a fairly educated guess about them.

"He has a tendency to be a bit reticent about his service in the War," Stuart said. "It's something that is considered to be one of his more endearing qualities. And, before you ask, he was breveted a lieutenant-general and given one of the new corps that were formed in late '63 when the new coloured units started to arrive in large numbers. Kept his old division as the kernel for it."

"Coloured units?" asked Amy. "What, were they slaves recruited into the army?"

"Not really," Stuart said. "We had decided, after a very long discussion, to free the Negro slaves ourselves in 1863 and to recruit them into the army. The first Negroes that were recruited were those who were serving as auxiliaries in the line regiments of the Army: we just simply enrolled them straight into their units as soldiers. Mind you, they were already armed and many of them had fought in several actions, so they knew what to expect. Gave us the equivalent of a division's worth of reinforcements right on the spot, plus they still tended to carry out the jobs they had been doing in their regiments. Came in quite handy at Chancellorsville, I can tell you. And when we marched north into Maryland and Pennsylvania in June of '63, we had at least a division's worth of the new troops brigaded with already existing units from the same state as they had come from, and frequently from the same counties, so that they were brigaded alongside veterans who knew them personally from home."

"How did you treat your coloured troops?" Amy asked.

"A damn sight better than the US did theirs," Stuart said. "The Confederate Congress passed laws decreeing that black soldiers, no matter what job they did, got the same pay as a white counterpart. The Union Army paid them at less than a white soldier." He snorted. "In fact, our Regular units have both white and black soldiers in their ranks, and they're all pretty much veterans of the War.

"Anyway, back to the topic of the reckless one. We're hoping that you might be able to convince him to go up and see his young lady before he pines away completely."

"Pine away?" asked Jane. "Why, what's he doing?"

"Well, he's not eating all that well," said Flora Stuart. "He's also neglecting to look after himself in small ways. Plus he just seems to be staring off into space at times."

"Just like Daria," said Jane. "She's not eating properly and at times seems just... sad. I'm afraid that she'll just decide to merely exist."

"We're afraid that if Richard gets called back in the state he's in," said Stuart, "he'll make his final report to the Secretary of War and then resign his commission, after which he'll head south to Mexico and join up with Emperor Maximilian's forces and go out and get himself killed. Which is what he was pretty much trying to do during the War." He blew out through his moustaches. "Anyway, we'll all talk about this when we get back to Mount Folly. I'm quite sure that Pete will want to hear your side of the equation."

"'Pete'?" asked Amy.

"Pete Longstreet," replied Stuart.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rest of the trip was conducted in relative silence once Jane's "Who's Pete Longstreet?" question was answered by an incredulous Amy and an amused Jeb Stuart. It was only broken once when, after they had passed through a large gateway that stood next to the road that led to Williamsburg and beyond to Yorktown they saw large, well tended fields covered with wheat, corn and other crops on either side of the tree-lined carriageway that crossed the property. "Part of Richard's 'heritage farming project'," Stuart had replied in answer to Amy and Jane's queries. "It's all farmed by techniques used back home and later, especially in the mid-West and, we understand, in Australia. Everything is horse-drawn: no motorised devices here."

Eventually they started climbing a long slope that was heavily wooded but which soon cleared to show fields of vegetables and other produce. Clearly Mount Folly was also a working plantation. At the top of the hill they could see a large building fronted by a neoclassical portico. "I take it that's the main house?" Jane said.

"It is," said Stuart. Near the top of the hill they passed several red brick cottages similar in overall style to the main house clustered on either side of the approach road. "Those are where the house farm workers and their families live," Stuart said. "The Rawlings family always believed in looking after their people." Behind him, Jane and Amy exchanged a look at this oblique reminder that, back in his world, he was, or, if what Stuart had told them was to believed, had been a slaveholder.

As they grew closer to the main house more details emerged. Mount Folly itself was quite clearly a Georgian-era plantation house, built out of red brick with sandstone quoins at the corners and sandstone window surrounds. The deep red bricks had been counterpointed in white mortar, something which added to the striking effect of the house.

The house had two floors with an attic space in the slate-tiled roof. Along the front of the house Jane and Amy could see four large bay windows, two on either side of the front portico and quite clearly later additions, extending into the garden along the front of the house.

Jane could easily see that houses like this were the inspiration behind some of the "McMansions" she had seen on her trips into Crewe Neck. However, Mount Folly had one thing that none of those houses, no matter how skilful the landscaping around them, had or would ever possess.

History. Jane could feel the history of this house just rolling off it. In addition, the plantation house, with its shading oak trees, appeared to belong in its setting, that it was a part of the countryside in a way that more modern houses could never achieve. It even made the White House in Washington DC look like a recent construction just planted down where it was.

It was also huge.

"My God!" said Amy as they pulled up in front of the main house. "How big is this place?"

"From what I understand the front is nearly one hundred feet long," Stuart said. "The sandstone's the same as that used in the White House in Washington City." Stuart shut down the car and got out, followed by his wife. They tilted their seats forward so that Amy and Jane could get out of the rear seat.

"And Richard's ancestors built this?" Jane said. "How could they afford to do that?"

"Actually, the Rawlings family didn't build the house," Stuart said. "They bought it from the Byrd family in 1752. William Byrd III had it pretty much finished when he had to sell both the house and the property surrounding it, plus the slaves that worked it in order to help finance his gambling. He was attempting to compete with the Carters, particularly Robert "King" Carter. Building something like this near what was then the capital of Virginia would show that he was someone of note to be reckoned with. Instead, the Rawlings' bought it and, rather than let the house go to waste, finished it. They did, however, insist on calling the house 'Mount Folly', basically as a warning to future generations. But I'll leave any further explanations to Richard, since it's his house."

At the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor of the portico they turned to see what had to be the most imposing black man Jane or Amy had ever seen, followed by three younger black men, come out to where they stood. "Ah, Sergeant-Major," said Stuart. Indicating Jane and Amy he said, "This is Miss Amy Barksdale and Miss Jane Lane. They're here to assist us in that little matter General Longstreet and I discussed with you regarding General Rawlings." He turned to Jane and Amy. "This is Regimental Sergeant-Major Israel Horton, late of the 3rd Virginia Coloured, Richard's butler and head of household."

Horton gave a small bow. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, ladies," he said. Although his overall demeanour was carefully neutral, the greeting he gave plus some small subtle signals told Jane and Amy that he was quite relieved they were there. "If you like I'll show you to your room. I'll have one of the servants take your luggage." He turned to Stuart. "I'll have the car taken around to the garage, General," he said.

Stuart nodded. "I'll open the trunk so that your boys can get the luggage," he said. Behind him Jane and Amy exchanged a glance at Stuart's casual use of the term boys. Clearly some attitudes towards black servants still survived the South's emancipation of their slaves.

If Horton had noticed it he didn't let on. He just gave a nod and turned to the three men who had followed him, indicating to one of them that he should go and get the bags from the trunk of Stuart's car. Turning to Flora Stuart he said "Do you have anything that needs to be carried, Miss Flora?"

Flora Stuart shook her head. "Just these books I picked up in Richmond," she said. "I'll go and give them to General Longstreet. He's expecting them."

Horton nodded. "General Longstreet's in the study," he said. Flora nodded in reply and walked up the steps and into the mansion. Turning back he saw that the manservant he had assigned to get Jane and Amy's luggage out of Stuart's car had both overnight bags slung over his shoulders and that Stuart had given the keys of his car to one of the other servants, who was getting into the car.

Stuart watched his car being driven off before turning to Horton. "I heard you say that General Longstreet's in the study, correct?" At Horton's nod he said "Then I'll go in and tell him that Miss Barksdale and Miss Lane have arrived."

Horton nodded. "Very good, General," he said. "Shall I bring them into the study after they have settled in?"

Stuart thought for a moment and then shook his head. "The withdrawing room, I think," he said. "General Rawlings may return shortly and the office is right next to the study. I think we'll talk with Miss Barksdale and Miss Lane for a while before we, shall we say, confront him with their presence. I'll tell General Longstreet where we'll be meeting them."

Horton nodded. He then turned to Jane and Amy. "Miss Barksdale? Miss Lane? If you'll please follow me?" He turned towards the house, with Jane, Amy and the manservant carrying their luggage following them.

They entered through a large set of Georgian period double doors into a massive hallway that was nineteen feet wide and which stretched for the entire width of the house. The hall was timber floored and, besides the paintings, decorated in Federal-era motifs with a strong neoclassical influence. The hall went all the way up to the roof, broken by the stairs and the balcony that ran along three sides of its upper level. The main structural timbers in the balcony were oak, with stained pine for the flooring and what at first glance appeared to be mahogany for the banisters. "Please come this way," Horton said as he led Jane and Amy up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs they could see that the balcony was continued along the fourth side by another section that was built in as a cloister rather than as a balcony. "Why did they build it so big?" Jane said. "I know Jeb Stuart told us that the Byrds were competing with the Carters, but this is ridiculous!"

"Many Virginian families of the stature of the Rawlings' or the Byrds had to be prepared to host people for some time in an era where transport was horse drawn," said Amy as they followed. "So they built their houses large enough to be able to entertain considerable numbers of people for some time. And considering this house was originally intended to be used by William Byrd III, who was one of the richest and most influential men in the Virginia of his day, and was built near Williamsburg, the capital of the Colony of Virginia, says to me that he was going to use it to help boost his influence in the Colonies."

"That is quite correct, Miss Barksdale," said Horton. "General Rawlings' ancestor, the first Richard John Rawlings, was pretty scathing about William Byrd and his ambitions. He also was said to have wondered aloud just what they were going to do with all of this house."

"Actually," Amy said, "I'm surprised they managed to make it this big. How on earth did they accomplish it?"

"From what I understand," Horton said, "the builders basically built it as two separate brick structures joined by the roof and a thinner brick wall in the area of the main hall."

"Makes sense to me," said Jane. They continued down the cloister and turned left into a long hallway lit by a large window at the end.

Horton led Jane and Amy to the end of the hall, halting in front of a doorway on the right hand side of the hall. "This is your room," he said. "I hope you have no objections to sharing a room."

"None from me," Jane said. "My amiga and I share am apartment in Boston and we both shared my room whenever she stayed over."

Amy looked at the door and then back at Jane. "I suppose I have no objection either," she said. "It seems we're in for a somewhat traditional Virginian plantation house experience." At Jane's raised eyebrow she continued, "The Virginian aristocracy used to put up several people in one room at the same time. Of course, established couples tended to be put up in their own rooms."

"Ah," said Jane. "I see."

Horton said nothing, but simply opened the door. "If you will, ladies?" he said. Shrugging, Jane and Amy went into the room. Just inside the door they halted in astonishment.

The room was quite large, measuring some twenty-one feet by thirteen feet. It was a corner room, brilliantly lit by windows on the two outside walls. The interior decoration was mid-Nineteenth Century influenced by the Federal style. In the room was a dresser, a pair of wardrobes and two double beds. Both of the beds were the four-poster canopy type.

Horton indicated to the manservant behind him that he should take their luggage in. "Miss Barksdale, Miss Lane, I'll leave you to get settled in," he said. "The bathroom is next door. If you do need anything, or if you have settled in to your satisfaction and are ready to see General Longstreet, please use the bell pull and I'll send someone to bring you down." He turned to leave.

"Mister Horton, a moment," said Amy. Horton paused. "I was wondering," she said, "since I have seen so many black people here, if there aren't some, er..."

Horton raised an amused eyebrow. "Slaves, Miss Barksdale?" he asked. At Amy's nod, he continued, "General Rawlings is quite proud of the fact that before the War there were no slaves on any of his Virginia properties, that they were all operated by free men and women of colour. He is equally proud of the fact that when the decision to free the slaves was made in '63, he was one of the first to do so." He took both women in with a glance. "All of the people you will meet here have come from the General's Virginia estates, and virtually all of the men served under his command in the War. He felt that it would be better to bring his own people here rather than, shall we say, rely on outsiders?" He gave a small bow. "I'll leave you to get settled." With that, he ushered the manservant out and closed the door.

Amy turned a wry look on Jane. "Well," she said. "I guess I've just been told."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

About half an hour later, Jane and Amy were once again following Israel Horton as he led them to their meeting with yet another historical figure that had somehow wandered into their lives.

General James Longstreet.

Old Pete. Lee's Warhorse. These names echoed in Amy's mind as they walked down the fairly impressive staircase in Mount Folly's main hall. Beside her, Jane, who was looking around the hall with undisguised curiosity, asked., "Why did they make this hall so big? I mean, it's impressive, sure, but surely it didn't have to be this big."

Amy, glad for a distraction, answered Jane. "This is actually the main entertaining space for a Virginian plantation house of this era," she said. "The hall allows for a nice cooling breeze to flow through the middle of the house in summer, which meant that the householder could entertain his guests here without anybody falling over from heat exhaustion." She looked around. "Although I'm pretty sure this whole building has been remodelled a few times."

"Indeed it has, Miss Barksdale," Horton said. "We found out that, like the Mount Folly in our own world, it had been burnt in the 1820s, especially the westernmost wing. And that it had been rebuilt using techniques of a more modern era. The main supports in the westernmost wing are cast iron pillars supporting wrought iron beams: the latest technology from Great Britain." He indicated a door on the opposite side of the hall. "This way, please."

He led them through into a well-appointed sitting room, its bay window open and looking out over the panorama that stretched out in the direction of the James River. "This is the parlour," Horton said. "General Longstreet is in the withdrawing room next door." He walked up to the closed door and knocked. Opening it, he said, "Miss Amy Barksdale and Miss Jane Lane." He then stepped to one side and ushered them through.

Standing off to one side in the room's bay window stood Jeb Stuart and another, slightly older man. He was fairly tall and quite solidly built. Rock-like, Amy thought as she walked closer to him. He had a leonine head and a thick, well-groomed bushy beard shot through with grey that extended well down his chest. In his right hand he held a lit cigar and, from the smoke that drifted out of the open windows, it was quite clear he had been smoking it. He had blue eyes that, when they settled on Amy, looked as though they could see right through. She now realised just why Longstreet was called Old Pete: like Saint Peter, he was a rock. In his case, however, he was the rock that Robert E. Lee had built the Army of Northern Virginia on.

Like all of the antebellum Southerners Jane and Amy had met, including Horton, Longstreet had an air of masculinity that declared that he saw no need to prove himself a man. However, while Stuart wore his with a large amount of boyish charm and Rawlings wore his with the courtliness of the Virginian aristocrat, Longstreet wore his with an air of magisterial gravitas that made Rawlings and Stuart look like striplings. Only Israel Horton came anywhere close to matching Longstreet's air.

Longstreet placed his cigar on an ashtray and walked over to the two women. "Good day, Miss Barksdale, Miss Lane," he said, taking each woman's hand in turn and bowing over it. Straightening, he turned to Horton. "Thank you, Sergeant-Major," he said. "That will be all for now. We may, however, have a need to, ah, consult with you on this matter later on." Horton gave a small bow and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Longstreet turned to face Jane and Amy. "Would you like to sit down?" he said, indicating some rather comfortable-looking chairs that sat in a semicircle around a coffee table. The chairs all faced the bay window. As Jane and Amy went to sit down in the chairs Longstreet, instead of sitting down, went over to his cigar, picked it up and went to stand in the bay window.

Longstreet turned and stood in front of Jane and Amy, He leant back against the window frame and crossed his arms in front of him in a way that allowed him to occasionally puff on his cigar. His eyes were slightly narrowed, as though he was assessing the two women in front of him. "So," he said as Stuart took up a position next to him. "You've come down here to talk to General Rawlings about your niece. I take it you have worked out just how you were going to do that." He looked at Amy. "You do have a plan of some sort, correct?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Amy reddened slightly under Longstreet's gaze. "Well, not really," she said, looking down at her feet. "I was just intending to tell him about what was happening to Daria and ask him just what he was going to do about it."

"Uh-huh," said Longstreet. "I thought as much." He held up a hand. "Don't get me wrong, Miss Barksdale," he said, "Your concern for your niece does both you and Miss Lane here credit. But just coming down here and telling someone like Rawlings just what the matter is with your niece isn't exactly a bright idea. The man's already pretty torn between his duty and his feelings towards... Daria, isn't it?"

"General Stuart said on the way here that you were concerned that if he was recalled to Richmond in his current state he'd make his final report, resign and head down to Mexico in order to get himself killed," Jane said. "So I gather that he isn't in all that great a shape himself."

"You could say that, Miss Lane," said Longstreet. "He's eating, but not as he aught to, and he carries out his duties, both as a Confederate officer on assignment and as the master of Mount Folly. However, both General Stuart and I have detected that there seems to be some spark missing. Now, while I'm not saying that he's become the 'man of sorrows,' he does appear somewhat down. In fact, at times he reminds me of the officer who earned his nickname in the War."

"In other words, he's depressed," said Amy. She looked at Jane. "Sounds like Daria?" she asked. Jane nodded. "He's not actively suicidal?" Amy asked.

Longstreet shook his head. "But he could well become so, if things do not fall right," he said. "Mind you, he won't take his own life. But he will start living up to his nickname, most likely by volunteering to join Emperor Maximilian's army and fighting against the Federales in Mexico." He puffed on his cigar. "We're hoping that you might be able to help us in making sure he doesn't go into a deeper decline. And, from the sounds of it, you've also got a stake in this matter in the shape of your niece and best friend."

"Well, from what I know about things between Daria and Richard," Jane said, "it's the fact that not only are they from two different worlds, they both feel that they can't be together. Daria's afraid that if Richard writes to the President of the Confederate States asking for permission to marry her you'll whip him back so fast he'll never have a chance to properly say goodbye to her. However, she's also living in fear that the next letter she gets from Richard will be the one telling her he's returning to your world and that she'll never see him again. And that has been having quite a bad effect on her." Jane halted, and then, visibly steeling herself, looked Longstreet in the eye. "You were one of the two generals in the Confederate Army General Lee trusted the most," she said. "Surely you have some influence with the Powers That Be in your world? Can't you do something?"

James Longstreet said nothing, but stood there. His arms were crossed in front of him, with his right hand holding his cigar. He looked at Jane, his face betraying nothing about what he was thinking. "She does have a point there, Pete," Stuart said. "With the Old Man now President you're pretty much in line to become the Army's General-in-Chief."

"You mean General Lee's now the President?" Amy said.

Stuart grinned at Amy. "He was elected last year and took office this March gone," he said. "Pete here is the one most of us consider to be the only suitable replacement for him as General-in-Chief."

"If you don't mind my asking this," Amy said, "why not Stonewall Jackson, if he's still alive?"

Both Longstreet and Stuart snorted laughter. "Tom Jackson would take the job if he was ordered into it," Longstreet said. "To him, Richmond is a place to be avoided at all costs. That's why he's so happy in Louisville, Kentucky, in command of the Military District of the Tennessee. However, if I do get the job of General-in-Chief I'll have the unenviable task of having him take over my job as Commanding General, Military District of Virginia and the Carolinas, which will require his being in Richmond."

"So Kentucky joined the Confederacy," Amy said. "Did you conquer it, or did they vote themselves in?"

"Voted themselves in," Longstreet said. "Part of the peace settlement with the United States was having referenda in what's now known as West Virginia, along with Kentucky and Missouri. West Virginia and Missouri stayed in the Union." He puffed on his cigar and eyed Amy and Jane. "But this doesn't settle the question of what we should do about our joint situation."

"If you don't mind me saying this, Pete," Stuart said, "I think we should do as Miss Lane has suggested. We write to the Old Man and fill him in on the situation, namely that 'Old Reckless' may be making a comeback, and offering up the, shall we say, formalisation of his relationship with Miss... Morgendorffer, isn't it?" he said, turning to Amy. At Amy's nod, he continued, "with Miss Morgendorffer, pointing out that she already knows about our little secret while adding that she is perhaps the best thing to happen to Rawlings since Emma Harrison died."

"I take it you knew the Harrisons," Amy said.

Both Stuart and Longstreet nodded. "Knew her, her father and her brother out West," Longstreet said. "It was pretty hard on all of us when we got the news through the lines about Jack. Especially Rawlings: the two were like brothers."

"What happened? Was he killed?" Amy asked.

Both Longstreet and Stuart nodded. "Ironically he was killed fighting Rawlings' division during our second foray into the North," Stuart said. "A one-day battle at a place I believe is familiar to both you and Miss Lane: a small Pennsylvania town called Gettysburg, where we took out the First and Eleventh Corps of the Army of the Potomac."

"He was nearly inconsolable after we got the news," Longstreet said. "It was the only time we made sure he wasn't alone. He felt as though he was bringing some sort of curse on the Harrisons: first Emma, then Jack. Even though he wasn't anywhere near the fighting that day: he was en route to rejoin the army after recovering from his Chancellorsville wounds."

"So, returning to the subject at hand: what is your decision, General Longstreet?" Amy asked.

Longstreet said nothing, but simply stood there, leaning against the window sill and studying Amy Barksdale through narrowed, assessing eyes. Occasionally he would puff on his cigar. Just when Amy began to fear the worst, Longstreet, without taking his eyes from Amy, said, "Jeb, will you please go and get the sergeant-major? I think I'll send a message to Richmond on this matter recommending that the best way to solve this situation is to allow Rawlings to marry the girl."

"I'll do that," Stuart said. "If you like I'll add my support for that course of action."

"Thanks, Jeb," Longstreet said. "Oh, and have Colonel Wallingford come in here as well: I think this is something he needs to know about as well. He might also have some ideas on how we tackle Rawlings on this matter." Stuart nodded and walked out of the room through the door Amy and Jane had come in by.

"Who's Colonel Wallingford?" Amy asked.

"Colonel Simon Wallingford," Longstreet said. "Currently he's the manager of this estate. He's also Rawlings' Chief-of-Staff. Has been since he commanded a division. He'll have some insights that we may find useful."

I sure hope so, thought Jane. I sure hope so.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Before long Jeb Stuart was back in the withdrawing room, Israel Horton and Simon Wallingford in tow. Wallingford appeared to be in his late twenties, was about average height, and had an attractive, but not overly handsome, face that was hidden behind an impressive set of moustaches and chin beard.

There seems to be a thing for facial hair amongst Richard's fellow officers, Jane thought as Horton and Wallingford took up their respective positions, with Wallingford taking a seat in the chair next to Amy and Horton taking a standing position nearby. Is that because he's black, or because he's the head of household? Jane thought as she saw this. I'll have to find out a tactful way of asking about it. She snorted to herself in derision. Yeah, and gold's gonna start falling out of my ass the day I turn tactful.

She noticed that Amy was watching the dynamics with an interested eye. Jane leant over and whispered, "What is it that you see, Amy?"

Amy whispered back: "The dynamics are very interesting. Horton is standing because he's the butler and head of household, but he's also standing like a regimental sergeant-major at a conference. And Longstreet, Stuart and this third fellow, Wallingford, are acting towards him as though he still is one. Very interesting."

Longstreet turned to face the newcomers. "After talking to Miss Barksdale and Miss Lane," he said, "I have decided, with some assistance from General Stuart, to send a message to Richmond, suggesting that General Rawlings, in order to save a good officer who has done a great deal for his country from wasting himself, be allowed to marry the young lady he had become enamoured of, Miss Daria Morgendorffer. We believe that she could be the best thing for what ails him at this point in time." He eyed Horton and Wallingford. "Comments?"

Wallingford slapped the armrest of his chair. "General, if you don't mind me saying so, it's about time something like this was done!" he said. "It was getting real nerve-wracking to see 'Old Reckless' starting to re-emerge. This assignment has done him a world of good, and it was clear that trying to reconcile his feelings and his duties was tearing him apart." He looked at Amy and Jane. "I take it that your young lady reciprocates his feelings towards him?" he asked.

Jane nodded. "She's been pining away for him pretty much since they parted in Lawndale," she replied. She fixed Wallingford with a look. "I can guarantee that she does reciprocate his feelings for him."

Wallingford bowed his head in Jane's direction. "Point taken, Miss Lane," he said. "Plus you wouldn't be down here if she's not suffering as well. It's just..." He shrugged. "You tend to develop a habit of looking out for your commanding officer if he develops a habit of not really giving a damn if he lives or dies." He looked at Horton. "Isn't that so, Sergeant-Major?" he said.

Horton nodded. "Although I didn't serve directly under his command during the War," he said, "his, ah, recklessness was the talk of the Third Corps. My own colonel frequently commented on it in my presence, well knowing that I had been his butler before enlisting."

"Make that the talk of the Army of Northern Virginia and you'd be more accurate in that statement, Sergeant-Major," snorted Longstreet. "Not even Sam Hood or Little Powell were as reckless as he was in risking his life."

Jane turned to both Wallingford and Horton. "Just out of curiosity, what would the two of you have done if he did decide to go to Mexico?"

Wallingford shrugged. "In my case I'd have probably stayed on the property back home and kept things going," he said. "I suspect that the Sergeant-Major would have followed him to Mexico in an attempt to stop him getting himself killed."

"Which may well have been a vain attempt, especially given how he has been acting," Horton said. He looked at Jane and Amy. "I hope you can understand that I, too, have my reasons for enquiring after your friend's intentions towards my employer."

Both Jane and Amy nodded. "I think I can speak for the both of us that we do understand," Amy said. "Obviously Richard's someone who inspires a great deal of loyalty in his people."

"That's putting it somewhat mildly, Miss Barksdale," Longstreet said.

"Oh, please, General Longstreet," Amy said. "You make me sound like I'm an old maid. I insist that you call me Amy."

Longstreet smiled. "In that case, please feel free to call me 'Pete'," he said. "I take it Jeb already asked the pair of you to call him by his nickname."

Amy smiled back in reply. "He did," she said. "Right at the airport terminal."

Longstreet turned to face Jane. "And I suppose you'd like me to stop calling you 'Miss Lane'?" he asked.

Jane nodded. "Please, all of you, call me 'Jane'." she said.

Longstreet raised an eyebrow as he shot a look in Horton's direction. "Well, I'd be delighted to do so," he said. "However, I have the feeling that the Sergeant-Major here would be putting a 'Miss' in front of that."

"Indeed, General," Horton responded. "You have to understand that as head of household I cannot allow myself into the sort of familiarity you wish, Miss Jane. Professional pride prevents me from doing so."

Jane shrugged. "I suppose I can understand that," she said.

Longstreet smiled, and then looked at Wallingford and Horton. "Mind you," he said, "although their concern over Richard's health does them both credit, it isn't the only reason they're asking you about Miss Morgendorffer's feelings towards their employer." He looked directly at Wallingford. "You want to tell them, or shall I?" he asked.

"Tell us what?" asked Amy.

Wallingford looked at Amy and Jane. "Just how much did General Rawlings tell you about himself?"

"I only know that he is a Confederate general and on some kind of assignment here," Amy said. "I also know that he does seem to be quite well off, going by what I've seen so far. Although he did mention to my sister Helen Morgendorffer, Daria's mother, that he did have some properties scattered throughout the South, as well as some other investments. I'm assuming most of that is in your world."

Jane shrugged. "He did say something along those lines when Daria and me noticed that he was dressed fairly well. But he didn't say just how well-off he was." She looked at Longstreet. "Is this important?"

Longstreet and Stuart snorted laughter. "Important?" asked Stuart.

Wallingford looked at Longstreet and Stuart, sighed, and then looked at Jane and Amy. "General Rawlings is the second-richest man in the South," he said, "after General Wade Hampton the Third. His father and grandfather, not to mention his great-grandfather, made several strategic investments in land, banks, canals, manufactories and railroads when it became clear that Virginia's rural economy was starting to decline. Mind you, the Rawlings family had gotten pretty much out of tobacco not long before the Revolution and had gone into wheat farming, as well as rice, corn and indigo. But a lot of their landed income comes from cotton and sugar, with some ranching in Texas."

Jane and Amy looked gobsmacked. "Just how much is Richard worth?" Jane asked.

"I haven't the exact figures on me," Wallingford said, "but last year, measured in pre-War US Dollars, his total income from all sources was somewhere around the four-and-a-half million dollar mark."

"That's... quite impressive," Jane said.

"Jane," Amy said quietly, "that's in 1860 US Dollars. In 2004 values..." She gave Wallingford an awed look. "That's got to be around... what, eighty million dollars?"

"Actually around the one hundred and five mark, off the top of my head," Wallingford said. "Mind you, this year he has sold off some of his minor properties in order to raise some capital for some investments, both here and back in our world."

"Oh my God," Jane quietly said. "Are you saying that, when measured in our dollars, that Richard's a multi-millionaire?"

"More like a multi-billionaire," Amy said. "How is he transferring some of the money between worlds to invest here?'

Wallingford smiled. "We've been turning that capital we shift here into gold and silver," he said. "Both bullion and specie. We then convert it over into your currency and then invest the proceeds. In fact, it was a roll of double eagles that helped to pay for the, ah, reacquisition of Mount Folly in this world, along with some Confederate coins and notes, which, we gather, are quite rare here. We've also been finding that wartime greenbacks, of which we have a few, are also sought after here. Mind you, his compensation from your Government for what some of your citizens did in our world on his property helped some." He looked at Longstreet and Stuart. "Do we tell them about that little episode?"

"What little episode?" Jane asked. "Are you referring to the white supremacists?"

All four Confederates looked at Jane in surprise. "How did you find out about that?" asked Longstreet.

"If you don't mind," Jane said, "I'd rather not say, since it could land someone I know into a great deal of trouble."

"I take it you're referring to your friend in Lawndale who's got powers similar to a New Orleans gris-gris woman," Longstreet said. At Jane's surprise, he continued; "Rawlings told us about that when he made his report about his trip up your way. He's also said that we shouldn't mention it to your government's people because they'd simply take her and put her into some sort of experimental program." His fleshy features showed distaste. "We've encountered a fair bit of that here," he said. "Believe me, it's kind of confirmed for us that we were right in what we did in seceding from the Union." His distaste was shared by the other Confederates in the room. "I think I can say that your government will not learn about your friend from any of us."

"General, I'm glad to hear it," Jane said.

"And I also insist that, if you want me to call you 'Jane,' that you please call me 'Pete' in return," Longstreet said.

"I think I can do that, Pete," Jane said in reply.

"Well, now that we've got some of the matters regarding Rawlings and ... Daria, isn't it?" Longstreet asked. At Jane and Amy's nods, he continued; "Daria out of the way, we now have to tackle the issue of how do we get the two of them together, considering that one of the parties involved is a Tidewater Virginia aristocrat." At Jane and Amy's puzzled looks, Longstreet said, "Virginian aristocrats do have a bit of a reputation for being, shall we say, a tad on the prickly side?" He said this with a sly glance at Stuart, who snorted. "Now, mind you, while Richard Rawlings does not comply to all of the stereotypes the breed have, he is, shall we say, a little reticent about taking too much action on his personal life. That won't mean that he will not consider that we have been sticking out noses where he feels that may not belong."

Wallingford snorted. " Makes me grateful that I'm from the Shenandoah," he said, "when I see just what General Rawlings has to put up with. And if I'm not wrong, General Stuart's origins in the Piedmont also shields him from that sort of rigmarole." He gave Longstreet a rather sceptical eye. "General Longstreet did tend to believe that, as the only senior commander in the Army of Northern Virginia not from Virginia, he had to play up his role as a Georgian somewhat."

Longstreet grinned. "In any case," he said, "we have to come up with a way to sit Rawlings down and get him to take some kind of action, even if it means he resigns his commission in order to marry the girl. I hope it won't come to that, but..." He trailed off.

"You're hoping that Richmond goes along with this idea," Amy said. "How confident are you about that?"

"Pretty confident," Stuart said. "President Lee was quite concerned about Rawlings' well-being, both during and after the War. We're both sure that he'd agree to what we're proposing. It's the Secretary of War who could be the main concern, though."

"And who's that?"

"Jeff Davis," Longstreet said. "Although since handing the presidency over to President Lee he has unwound somewhat. At a reception at the Executive Mansion in Richmond President Lee said that he hadn't seen such a spring in Jeff's step for quite a while." He looked at Stuart. "And we'd better start considering what we're going to put in our message to Richmond. But after we've decided on what we do with Rawlings."

"If I may make a suggestion, General Longstreet," Horton said, "I believe that we have Miss Amy and Miss Jane meet with him in the parlour." He turned to Wallingford. "Colonel, do you know when the General is due back?"

Wallingford nodded. "Sometime later this afternoon," he said. "He looked at a clock that stood against one wall. "Pretty soon, now."

Horton gave a small bow. "Than you, sir." Turning to Longstreet he said, "Then that is my suggestion. We have him meet with Miss Amy and Miss Jane in the parlour, along with yourself, General Stuart and Colonel Wallingford. If you wish, I will also be present."

"United front, eh?" Longstreet said. Horton nodded. Longstreet looked at Sturt. "What do you think, Jeb?" he asked.

"No objections here," Stuart said.

Longstreet nodded. "That's what we'll do, then," he said. He shoved himself off the sill. "Sergeant-Major, could you have some of your people take care of Miss Barksdale and Miss Lane while they wait General Rawlings? General Stuart and myself will be in the study composing our message to Richmond."

Horton nodded. "I take it you will be requiring either myself or one of the others in the study shortly?" he asked.

Longstreet thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Western Mississippi , this time I think," he said.

Horton nodded. Turning to Jane and Amy she said, "Ladies, if you will please follow me, I'll have you set up in the parlour."

Jane and Amy got up to follow Horton. As they all trooped next door Amy asked Longstreet "What was that about Western Mississippi?"

Longstreet looked at Amy. "If you don't mind, Amy," he said, "I'd rather not answer that at present."

Jane and Amy were seated in the house's parlour. The room was fairly large, and had a bay window opening up onto the front yard of the house. In one corner, near the window, stood a parlour grand piano. The seats were all comfortable and grouped in a manner that would allow the sitters to listen to the piano being played. The room's decor was in the Federal style and was quite tastefully executed with a parquet floor covered in the centre by a large rug.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Amy and Jane had been seated at a small table in the room. It and the chairs they were seated on were Thomas Chippendale originals, something which had blown Jane away. Amy had just returned from following Horton to the quite impressive library the house boasted in response to his question of "Would you like anything to occupy yourselves while you wait for the General to come back?" Jane had asked for some paper and pencils and was madly sketching everything she could see while Amy sat reading.

Suddenly, Amy gasped. "I don't believe it!" she said. Then, she started to chuckle. At Jane's querying glance, Amy said, "I think I got what General Longstreet was referring to earlier on."

"Which was?"

"His reference to Western Mississippi," Amy said. "I wouldn't mind betting that he was referring to a slave dialect!" She started to chuckle more loudly.

"Slave dialect?" asked Jane.

"African slaves, especially in the South, spoke a whole range of dialects amongst themselves," Amy said. "Today, only a few remain, the best known being Gullah. But Longstreet, Stuart and the others would be well aware of a whole range of different dialects which, to them are living, breathing languages." She started to laugh harder. "And if, as it sounds like they do, they switch dialects or even whole languages for each and every message they send back home..." Her laughter grew even harder. "God! That has got to be giving the NSA boys conniptions!"

"So you're saying that they are aware that our spy agencies are listening in on their messages," Jane said.

"They have to be," Amy said. "I wonder if they're encrypting the messages they send." She giggled, which to Jane was an odd sound to come from Daria's cool Aunt Amy. About as odd as it would be coming from Daria, Jane thought.

Just then, James Longstreet entered the parlour. "Well," he said, "we've sent it off." He sat down in a chair opposite Amy. "Now, all we have to do is wait and see what sort of a reply we get." He took out of a pocket a cigar. Pausing, he looked over for permission to light it.

"You do know that those things cause lung cancer," said Amy. "Which isn't a particularly nice way to go."

"True," said Longstreet. "But we've all got to go sooner or later, so we might as well enjoy some vices." Taking Amy's reply for permission, he lit up and sat back. "So what is it you do at Georgetown University?" he asked.

"I mainly teach literature and history," Amy said, "although I have done some analytical articles on intelligence related matters." She fixed Longstreet with her gaze. "By the way, Pete," she said, "nice touch using slave dialects to try and confuse the NSA boys."

Longstreet shot her a look. "You did that on remarkably few clues, Miss Barksdale," he said. "I hope that you won't spread it to your security people."

Amy shook her head. "I try to have as little to do with them as possible," she said. "I found some of the things that went on in the intelligence community not exactly to my liking, which is why I eventually went into academia."

"I see," said Longstreet. The look he was giving Amy Barksdale was similar to the one he had used earlier on, as if he was assessing her anew on the information he had just been given.

Suddenly Jane could see just why Longstreet had earned his reputation as one of the finest strategists and tacticians the US Army had ever produced. Because he's willing to reassess his earlier assumptions whenever he gets new information, Jane thought. Looking to change the subject, Jane asked him, "So, Pete. What o you think of our modern Twenty-First Century world?"

Longstreet shot Jane a look. "Interesting in several ways," he said. "Your information revolution has been quite a revelation. Not to mention your transport networks. However, there's not all that much we can make use of straight away."

"Oh? How come?" asked Jane.

"Well, basically because we lack the basic technology to make even the tools we'd need to make the tools you have to make all of this fine technology," Longstreet said. "Granted, once we could see the basic principles used in, say a telephone or a motor-car, we could use them. But make them?" he shook his head. "We'd have to start pretty much from scratch in order to get to where you're at now. But at least we now know what to do. And what to avoid."

"What are some of the things you've figured out to avoid?" asked Amy.

"Overdependence on petroleum, for one thing," Longstreet said. "We can see its uses, sure, but we can also see the problems that running out of the stuff is starting to give you. Take this war in Iraq, for instance," he continued. "No real need for it, in my opinion. Now, Mister Saddam Hussein was not one of the nicest individuals to have ever inhabited the world, but from what I can see he wasn't any real threat to the United States. Hell, he was doing you all a service by holding his country together, even though he was using less than savoury means to do so. But that idiot Texan and his equally idiotic advisers decide, for reasons of their own, to go in and remove him, resulting in what anybody with a brain can see is a situation where you are occupying a country that has a history of being colonised by other powers. That is a recipe for a quagmire."

"So what are you going to do in order to avoid our 'overdependence'?" asked Amy.

"I've already recommended that the South starts building a better railway network than the one we already have," Longstreet replied. "And that was done solely on the basis of our own experiences in the War, long before we even found out about your world. We'll probably stick with our steam locomotives for now, simply because we can maintain them. But I have said that our long-term goal, based on what I have seen in your world, should be to set up an electrical train network as soon as we can. Powered by hydro-electricity as much as possible."

"I take it you're familiar with the Tennessee Valley Authority projects," Amy said.

Longstreet nodded. "We can't set them up straight away," he said. "But we can start building the infrastructure we need in order to be able to build them in the future." He took a meditative puff on his cigar. "The US Geological Survey maps we managed to get have been of great use in telling us just what resources the South has, especially those iron ore deposits in Northern Alabama. We've started laying rail and building ironworks there. Before long we'll have our first steelworks there, too."

"How are you financing all of this?" Amy asked.

"We've taken out loans in London and Paris," Longstreet said. "We've also floated some partnerships with British and French investors. But we've also gotten some finances from trading barrels of mineral oil from Texas with your government. It's being added to your country's strategic reserves." He looked at Amy and Jane. "It may not be much when compared with what you get from the Middle East, for example, but your people are pretty happy to get it. Which argues strongly that you may be running out of it yourselves."

"Aren't you... concerned that our government may try and take over?" Jane asked.

"We've taken that into consideration," Longstreet said. He gave the two women a very assessing look. "The... gateway between our worlds has been fortified on our side. Besides, it's somewhat narrow. Too narrow to allow more than one of your armoured vehicles through at a time. And we've managed to develop solid shot that we feel pretty confident will stop one of them dead in its tracks."

Just then Israel Horton came into the parlour, followed by Jeb Stuart. "General Longstreet," he said, "General Rawlings has just called. He has left Williamsburg and is on his way back. He should be here in about half an hour."

Longstreet looked over at the clock siting on the mantlepiece of the parlour's fireplace. "Not all that long," he said. "I was hoping to get a reply from Richmond before he got back." He shrugged.

"Just how are you getting you messages to your Richmond?" asked Jane.

"Well, after we've composed the message and 'enciphered' it, we use this 'Internet' of yours to send it to a property that, in our world, is one that belongs to Rawlings," Longstreet said. "There, one of our officers who's stationed there prints it out and hands it to a courier who then takes it through the gateway to our world, where it's telegraphed to Richmond. The whole process takes about a couple of hours.

"Once the message is in Richmond it's then decoded and handed to its recipient. Then, their reply is encoded and comes back via the same route. About a three-hour round trip, exclusive of any deliberation on the Richmond side of things."

"Damn," said Jane. "So we may not know until this evening sometime."

Longstreet nodded. "That is pretty much when I expect an answer," he said. He got up. "Sergeant-Major," he said to Horton, "could you get General Stuart in here? We had better get ourselves ready for when General Rawlings gets here." Horton nodded and left the room.

Longstreet turned and looked at Jane and Amy. "Well," he said, "I sure hope you've worked out just what you're going to say to him. Because I have no idea."

"We'll just have to wait and see what happens," Amy said. "Then we'll know what to say."

Longstreet paused for a moment, and once again examined Amy through slightly narrowed eyes. Then he nodded. "I've heard worse," he said. He didn't say what, though.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane and Amy heard a car pull up in front of the house. They both got up and went over to the bay window. Hidden behind lace curtains, they looked out and saw that a late model Mercedes-Benz had stopped in front of the portico and that the driver was getting out. Because of the angle from the window, though, they couldn't get a good view of him as he talked to Israel Horton, who had come out onto the portico. They then saw that he was coming into the house, so Jane and Amy immediately resumed their seats.

As they finished sitting down they saw Richard John Rawlings, the owner of this house, come into view through the parlour door. As he saw them he halted, surprise plain on his face. "Jane? Amy?" he said. He stepped into the parlour, going up to where they had risen as he came in. "You're my visitors?" A look of alarm crossed his face. "Is Daria..." he began.

Amy shook her head. "Daria's all right, Richard," she said. "Not exactly the best, though, but all right." A look of relief , then concern mixed with curiosity crossed Rawlings' face as the words sank in.

"Please, won't you sit down?" he said, waving at the chairs. He turned to Horton. "Sergeant-Major, could you please arrange for some refreshments to be sent up?" he asked. He turned to Amy and Jane. "Would tea be acceptable?" he said. A faint grin crossed his face. "Or I could have some dishwater strength coffee made up for the pair of you."

Amy shook her head. "Tea would be fine, Richard," she said. Rawlings nodded and looked at Jane.

"I think I'll have some tea as well," she said.

Rawlings nodded, then looked at Longstreet and Stuart, who stood off to one side. "I take it you'll have coffee Pete, Jeb?" he asked.

"Coffee'd be fine, Richard," Longstreet said. Stuart nodded.

Rawlings turned to Horton. "Could you have some coffee and tea, plus some biscuits and cake brought up, Sergeant Major?" he asked. Horton nodded. "Thank you."

As Horton exited the parlour Rawlings turned to face Jane and Amy. "You said that Daria's all right, but not exactly the best," he said. "Forgive me, but that does sound somewhat contradictory."

"Perhaps I should explain what I know about the situation," Amy said.

As Amy began to explain Daria's actions and her appearance to Rawlings, Jane took the opportunity to examine Rawlings. Although he was his usually well-groomed self, Jane could see that he was noticeably more... weary was the term she was looking for. He appeared slightly gaunt, as though he was not eating properly, and there was a faint air of sadness around him. I think I can see what Jeb Stuart's wife was saying in that he's not really looking after himself, thought Jane. He looks pretty much the way Daria does.

She looked over to where Longstreet and Stuart stood, intently watching what was going on. They are definitely concerned over his well-being, she thought. I wonder if they're seeing something we're missing, or that they've seen before?

As Amy finished, Rawlings sat back in his chair. "I see," he said. He sighed. "In some ways, I suppose that it would have been better all round if we had never met," he said. "Then this whole unfortunate situation would have never arisen, and Daria would have been able to carry on with her life."

"Don't say that!" Jane sharply said. At Rawlings' surprise, she continued; "You have been the best thing to have ever happened to my amiga," she said. "I have never seen her so happy as when you two were together in Lawndale this past summer. Plus your having been in her life has actually made things better for her in that something that was missing in her life had been, I don't know, put in place. It's only the uncertainty surrounding your situation that's having this effect on her."

"So what should I do?" Rawlings asked. "I can scarce resign my commission: Daria commented that my devotion to my duty was one of the things she found attractive in me, that I wouldn't be the man she was attracted to if I could so casually abandon my duty."

"We might have been able to solve that problem, Richard," Longstreet said. At Rawlings' raised eyebrow, he continued: "I sent Richmond a message describing the situation and recommending that, all things considered, you be allowed to marry the girl." He looked over at Stuart. "Jeb backed me on this."

Rawlings looked thoughtful. "Who did you send the message to?" he asked. "The Old Man?" Longstreet nodded. "Won't Jeff Davis be a little upset you went over his head?"

"He might, but that's something I'll be prepared to wear," Longstreet said. "And if he relieves me of duty, well, that's not going to be something I'll lose much sleep over. Frankly I can do with the break."

"Somehow I don't think that Jeff would be able to dispense with your services so easily," Stuart said. "I think Congress would ask a few pointed questions about such an event, and the Old Man would not thank him for raising a storm over you being dismissed from the Service."

Rawlings looked at his colleagues. "So we wait?" he asked.

Longstreet nodded. "Nothing we haven't done before," he replied.

Rawlings nodded. "But this time we won't know for sure what's coming down the pike," he replied.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

While they sat around waiting for the reply to Longstreet's message Amy and Jane found out a little more about the way the Civil War, or what Rawlings, Longstreet and Stuart referred to as the War for Southern Independence ("although in the North it's called The War of Secession" Longstreet had commented) had gone. Mainly they had talked about the 1863 Campaign, which in Jane and Amy's world, had culminated in the three-day fight at Gettysburg.

"We did fight at Gettysburg, as I believe I had mentioned earlier," Stuart said. "However, that was only a day-long fight against the First and Eleventh Corps of the Union Army. The others were still marching to try and intercept us. By the time they reached the general area we had basically crushed the First and Eleventh Corps, not to mention John Buford's cavalry division, and had entrenched on the high ground." The reason why the campaign had taken a different course from the one Jane and Amy were familiar with was that Stuart's cavalry division had not gone on its famous ride that had separated him from the Army of Northern Virginia, but had, on Longstreet's recommendation, stayed close and performed their screening and scouting duties.

"Our scouts were some of Wade Hampton's boys," Stuart had said. "They headed out in front of the army disguised as civilians or even as Union soldiers finding out things. That's how we found out that Hooker had started moving the Army of the Potomac and later that he had been replaced by George Meade." He looked at Longstreet. "I have to admit that at the time I wasn't all that happy with Pete here clipping my wings, so to speak. Given how things later turned out, and given how the same campaign turned out here, I'd have to say that I'm now pretty grateful he did."

"So what happened then?" Amy asked.

"Meade pulled back to a position we later found out he had marked out for a defence of Washington City," Longstreet said. "It was in Northern Maryland along a little waterway called Pipe Creek." He indicated Stuart. "Jeb here scouted out the position and told us he didn't like what he saw. Reckoned we'd be looking at a repeat of what had happened at Fredericksburg, only we'd be in the role of Burnside's army. So we left a division at Gettysburg as a tripwire and headed on to Harrisburg and settled down for a long stay." He puffed on his cigar. "That, plus the aim of scoring a major victory against the Army of the Potomac, was one of the things we were aiming for when we went North. We'd be able to get supplies to subsist on and we'd get the fighting out of Northern Virginia and the Shenandoah Valley for a season."

"So who was in command of the Second Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia?" Amy asked. "Stonewall Jackson?"

Rawlings shook his head. "Dick Ewell was," he said. "General Jackson was with me shepherding some reinforcements up through the Valley and behind the Blue Ridge aiming to join the army. We both missed out on the Gettysburg fight which, in hindsight, was something I was grateful for."

Longstreet shook his head. "Richard, you know that what happened with Jack Harrison wasn't your fault," he said. "Besides, you weren't anywhere near the fighting when it happened."

"But he was fighting my division," Rawlings said. "So I do feel somewhat guilty over what happened."

"Jeb mentioned to us what had happened," Jane said. "It must have been hard."

"At the time I wondered if I was some sort of curse on the Harrisons, bringing them nothing but pain and death," Rawlings said. "General Jackson helped to straighten me out, as did his chaplain, Reverend Lacey and General Pendleton, but I suppose the most I owe that to is a Yankee officer we took prisoner in '64. A college professor. Taught rhetoric and revealed religion at a college in Maine before the War."

Amy and Jane exchanged looks. "Are you talking about..." Amy began.

"A fellow named Josh Chamberlain?" Rawlings said. "Most assuredly. We'd captured him when he was wounded leading his brigade in an action in Northern Virginia. He was recovering from his wounds in a house near where we were positioned when I went and had a long conversation with him. He managed to help me find some peace with what had been happening. He also said that he now understood just what this war was doing to those of us who had known one another in the Old Army."

"What happened to him?" Amy asked.

"I sent him to one of my properties in the Shenandoah to recover from his wounds," Rawlings said. "He'd given me his parole that he wouldn't attempt to escape. He was later exchanged for Rooney Lee, who had been captured the year before while recovering from his wounds."

"So he survived the War," Amy said.

Rawlings nodded. "We still write to each other," he said. "Someday I may just visit him in Maine."

"So, what happened in Maryland?" Jane asked. "You said that you were en route to rejoin the Army of Northern Virginia. Did you encounter any Federal troops?"

Rawlings shook his head. "We were pretty well screened by Grumble Jones and Beverly Robertson's cavalry brigades. Although Robertson was relieved of his command after he repeatedly ignored instructions to close up with the main force. We also had John Imboden and John Singleton Mosby, as well as Albert Jenkins, flanking us and keeping in touch with what the Federals were doing."

"So, I take it you managed to rejoin the Army of Northern Virginia," said Amy. "What then?"

"Well, we found out, through reading Yankee newspapers, about the fall of Vicksburg on July 4," Longstreet said. "That forced us to do something. So, later that month, we moved out of Pennsylvania and down into Maryland. By then Jeb and his troopers had clashed a few times with Judson Kilpatrick and his men, including a clash with a rather flamboyant Union general by the name of George Armstrong Custer." All three Confederate generals grinned. "We reckoned that Custer wanted to be Jeb Stuart, only that Jeb was more tasteful than Custer, not to mention a better general.

"Anyway, Jeb had determined that the best place to attach the Federal line was in-between Taneyown and Middleburg. So we massed near there and launched an attack on July 25. It was more of a reconnaissance-in-force than an attack.

"I had assigned the job to George Pickett. He'd been in rear of column when we'd fought at Gettysburg and both he and his division were spoiling for a fight. I had told him to advance carefully and making sure he was properly supported, but either through miscommunication or through an exaggerated sense of his division's strength, he launched an all-out attack on Hancock's Corps. Unfortunately for us Hancock managed to see Pickett off after several attacks, which cost us forty percent of his division.. Thankfully Richard here had managed to not only bring us reinforcements but had manoeuvred his division into a position where, if need be, we could slip past the Federal lines. It was then that we'd found out that Meade, in response to the loss of the First and Eleventh Corps, had brought an additional three corps' worth of troops out of the Washington and Baltimore defences, thanks to Mosby's scouting."

Jeb Stuart grinned. "Mosby had also found out that this had weakened the Washington defences to such an extent that it had opened up some intriguing gaps in the Federal lines," he said. "Now, while we wouldn't be able to get the army through them, it was possible for a smaller, more mobile force to find a gap and ride through it. So, we decided that I would lead some of my cavalry troopers down and ride through a gap, making it look like we were threatening Washington with a large-scale raid." His grin grew larger. "In fact, we rode right through the defences and made for Georgetown. Made it, too, and crossed the Potomac before swinging back north to rejoin the army."

"Wow!" said Amy. "That must have alarmed the government in Washington."

"That's putting it somewhat mildly," Longstreet said. "They panicked. The next thing we know is that Meade had pulled his army out of its defensive position and was taking position inside the Washington defences. That allowed us to bring the army out of Maryland and back into Northern Virginia through the Shenandoah Valley. We eventually reoccupied the old fortifications around Centreville and Manassas Station, placing a division at Burke's Station, and leaving Tom Jackson back in the Valley. We then set about reorganising the army to make the most of the new coloured units that we were receiving, with a third corps organised around Richard's division, and placing him in charge with the rank of brevet lieutenant-general."

"So the 1863 campaign was somewhat of a success," said Jane.

"It was successful in that we had gotten the fighting out of Northern Virginia into the north for a season," Longstreet said. "That gave the farmers plenty of time to get crops in, which helped us greatly through the winter. Plus we had also captured Federal supplies in Pennsylvania that aided us as well, and had inflicted a defeat on the Army of the Potomac. It wasn't however, a major defeat, and was countered by what happened at Pipe Creek.

"But all of that was more than countered by the loss of Vicksburg and Pemberton's army with it. As many pro-Lincoln Administration newspapers in the North pointed out, while what we were doing in the East was a cause of embarrassment, Vicksburg's fall meant that the Confederacy was cut in half. It also meant that we were cut off from the trans-Mississippi, with its abundant supplies of foodstuff and material. So we had to react by withdrawing into Virginia. However, the army, except for Pickett's command, was still very much intact, and we were able to occupy a suitable position in Northern Virginia covering the Valley and Washington. It would have to be up to the Federals to force us back further south."

Just then Israel Horton walked into the parlour. "General Longstreet," he said. "The reply from Richmond has arrived." He handed Longstreet a sheet of paper.

Longstreet took it and read it through. "Well?" asked Jane. "What does it say?"

Longstreet smiled. "Read it for yourself, Jane," he said, handing it over.

Jane took the sheet and read it. She looked up at the three Confederate generals. "Does he mean it?" she asked.

"I have never known Robert E. Lee to say something he doesn't mean," Longstreet said. Indicating Rawlings, he said, "You had better pass it on to him."

Wordlessly Jane passed the message to Rawlings. Rawlings took it and read it. "Well," he said, passing it to Amy, "that settles that." He looked at the clock. "Too late to arrange passage from Richmond air-port tonight," he said. He got up. "I suppose I had best arrange for a trip to

Boston as early as we can tomorrow."

"Not too early," said Jane.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dinner at Mount Folly was an experience that neither Jane nor Amy would forget.

For one thing, Rawlings had a sizeable outdoor dining setting on the large portico-style back verandah where they all had dinner. Instead of electric lamps the table was lit by candle lanterns and kerosene lamps either placed on the table or hung from wrought-iron stands. Either way it looked quite impressive, especially when combined with the white linen tablecloth, the fine porcelain setting, the crystal glasses and the silverware. Real silverware, imported all the way from London.

The view from the porch over the York River was also something. Jane had been transfixed as soon as they had stepped out onto the verandah into the setting sun. "I just have to paint this sometime!" she said.

Longstreet and Stuart gave each other amused looks. "I see we have an artist amongst us," Longstreet said.

"From what Daria tells me that's putting it mildly," Amy replied. "Looks like we have a muse attack." She grinned at Longstreet. "Something I do have some idea about."

Rawlings walked up to Jane. "I'm sure there will be other opportunities to capture this vista," he said, gently taking a hold of Jane's arm and steering her towards a chair. "Besides, I understand that Hattie's made up a dinner that will be worth the eating." He waited until all of his guests had taken their seats before sitting down himself.

Dinner was roasted chicken seasoned with a whole slew of different spices and herbs, filled with a stuffing that added to the flavour that had been imparted to the meat, along with a baked, honey-glazed ham studded with peppercorns. The vegetables were steamed, with the potatoes being the only exception, having been baked in their jackets, split open and buttered before serving. Since the meat was white the wine was also a white, one that Rawlings said came from a vineyard on the Rhine. "The monks there have been making this wine since the Middle Ages," he said.

But most of all was the experience of sitting at a table with three Confederate generals, all of whom had served in the antebellum United States Army, as well as a Confederate colonel who, although he hadn't been what Rawlings, Longstreet and Stuart all called the Old Army had served in a militia unit before Virginia seceded from the Union. Throughout the course of the dinner Longstreet, Stuart and Rawlings all told anecdotes of their time in the antebellum Army, especially their time on the frontier. All told, it was a wonderful dinner.

Jane also noticed that both Longstreet and Amy spent a fair bit of time talking to one another. Ar first she put it down to Amy's natural curiosity about what Longstreet had done, but soon she began to see a distinct pattern start to form. Hmmm, she thought. I could well be wrong, but could it be possible that Amy Barksdale and James Longstreet are actually flirting with each other? Intrigued, she sat back and watched the interplay between Amy and Longstreet.

Sure enough, they were flirting with one another. It wasn't too obvious, and it was quite likely that they weren't aware of the interplay between them, but to Jane's eye they were definitely flirting. Hmmm, thought Jane. It looks like Daria's started a trend in Barksdale-Morgendorffer women picking up antebellum Southern generals. Finally the plates were cleared from the table (and that had been an unusual experience for both Jane and Amy, being waited on by black servants in a Southern plantation house) and after dinner drinks were served.

Jane noticed that both Longstreet and Amy had walked over to a clear spot where Longstreet could smoke his cigar. She started to move towards them but, at the feel of a hand lightly touching her elbow, stopped. She turned around to see Rawlings and Stuart standing near her, with Rawlings being the one who had touched her elbow. "I think we had better leave them alone," he quietly said to Jane.

"I take it you saw what was going on?" Jane asked. Rawlings nodded. "Doesn't it concern you that your colleague and, dare I say it, old friend, is falling for a woman from our world?"

Rawlings said nothing but simply raised an amused eyebrow. In response, Jane reddened and said, "Ok, now that I've stuck my foot in my mouth on the subject of people from different worlds falling for one another, wouldn't this," she said, indicating Amy and Longstreet, "cause some problems?"

Both Rawlings and Stuart shook their heads. "Amy already knows our dirty little secret," Rawlings said "and she's proven that she can keep secrets quite well. Besides, I think that this development, if it continues, could actually be good for Pete, and I'm pretty sure that a lot of others, including the Old Man, will agree."

Jane raised an eyebrow at that statement. "You have to understand, Jane," Rawlings quietly said, "that Pete lost his wife and two of his children to scarlet fever in '62, and both he and his eldest boy, Garland, nearly succumbed. Afterwards he wasn't quite the same." He looked over at where Amy and Longstreet stood. "Tonight's probably the closest we've seen him to what he was like before the War."

"I see," Jane said. She too, looked over at where the two were laughing and chatting. "I wonder how Daria's going to feel about having a fairly major historical figure as an uncle?" She shook her head. "Well, it mightn't happen anyway." She looked at Rawlings. "He has a son, you say?"

Both Rawlings and Stuart nodded. "He's an upperclassman at VMI," Rawlings said. "He'll probably follow his father into the Army for a while. However, it's not in the Army that we need our educated young men. It will be outside the Army, helping to build up out nation's fabric."

"Interesting," said Jane. So Longstreet has a son who's about my age? Interesting.

Jane looked at Rawlings. "Richard, do you mind if I call Daria?" she said. "I just want to check in on her and let her know that things are all right with me. I kinda left Boston on pretty short notice and only left a brief note explaining I was suddenly called out of town."

"Don't mind at all, Jane," Rawlings said. "But can you do me a favour? Don't tell her that I'm coming up to Boston tomorrow: I want it to be something of a surprise. I also want to give her the news in person." Jane nodded and went back into the house.

The telephone conversation went off without too much of a hitch. Jane told Daria she was checking in with her and again apologised for the short notice. "No, it's nothing to do with Trent," she said in response to Daria's query, "but it was something that I had to attend to. Nothing really important."

"So Trent and the band aren't being held in some police station in East Jerkwater somewhere," Daria said. Although she sounded like her usual self, to Jane's experienced ear her best friend was sounding a little more depressed than usual.

"Everything all right, Daria?" Jane said.

"Well, I'm still breathing, so I suppose everything is all right," Daria said. "Quinn and Stacy called in today: they were surprised that you were out of town."

"Well, I'll be back tomorrow," Jane said. "Then we'll go and have a pizza together. Haven't done that for a while."

"As long as you're paying," Daria said. "Oh, wait: you won't be paying. Guess we'll have to go 'Dutch', like we usually do."

"We'll see," Jane replied. "Anyway, I had better go. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," replied Daria.

Hmmm, thought Jane as she hung up the 'phone. I wonder if it will be possible to get Jeb and Pete to join Richard, Daria and me when we go for pizza in Boston tomorrow? She smirked at the thought. If we do, it'll be interesting seeing how my amiga and Amy cope with two historical figures sitting in a pizza shop. She walked out to the back where she saw Horton had come up to Rawlings.

"General," he said, "this has just come in. It's from Senator Hampton."

Rawlings took the message and, after scanning it, folded it and put it in his pocket. "I'll deal with it before I retire for the evening, Sergeant-Major," he said. Horton nodded and went back to overseeing the servants."

"Nothing important?" asked Jane.

Rawlings looked at Jane. "Well, nothing of earth-shattering importance," he replied. "Just something that myself and Wade Hampton are organising with a few notable individuals in the Confederacy."

"Oh? May I ask what it is?"

"It's something we're preparing for President Lee's retirement in about six years' time," he replied. "Beyond that, I really don't want to go into any details."

"Ok," said Jane. "Obviously you're not plotting the overthrow of any governments the way me and my amiga used to do back in high school."

Rawlings chuckled. "Now why am I not surprised at that?" he said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After breakfast the following morning (held on the front portico where they could catch the morning sun) Jane, Amy, Rawlings and Longstreet piled into Rawlings' Mercedes and drove off for Richmond International.

Jeb Stuart and his wife, Flora Cooke-Stuart, followed. However, they did so in their own inimitable fashion.

"Something the matter, Amy?" Rawlings asked as they drove along. Ever since leaving Mount Folly Amy had spent the trip looking, first out the rear window and, when they hit a multi-lane road, out the side window at the Stuarts, muttering all the while That is just wrong.

Jane smirked at Rawlings' reflection in the rear-view mirror. "Somehow I think it's the sight of the Confederate Army's Inspector-General of Cavalry and his wife riding in tandem on the back of a customised Harley-Davidson softtail motorbike complete with the long handlebars that's got her gibbering."

Amy shot Jane a look that reminded her of all the times she had gotten similar looks from Daria. "Let me guess... you hate me, right?" Jane smirked at Amy.

Amy glared at Jane. "I can come to terms with the fact that Jeb Stuart, if he got the opportunity, would choose something like that," she said, pointing at the Stuarts, "to ride. I can also come to terms with the fact that he got himself and his wife matching Harley-Davidson leather jackets and that he's using cavalry gauntlets as his motorcycle gloves. I can even understand why he's wearing an open-faced helmet with aviator goggles, given that he's wearing a pretty thick beard."

"But...?"

"Did he have to have the fuel tank and his helmet done up as Confederate battle flags?" growled Amy. She shifted her glare from Jane to Jeb Stuart who, seeing Amy looking at him, smiled and gave a cheerful wave.

"Just consider yourself lucky he's wearing his top boots and not his cavalry boots, as he usually does when he's on the back of that death machine," smirked Longstreet. "Oh, and I should add that as soon as we get the ability to make them, he's going to suggest that we add a motor-cycle corps to the Army." He looked over his shoulder. "Should I also add that Flora's got a matching one?"

The look that Amy gave Longstreet at that tidbit was priceless.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Daria walked down the street from where she had gotten off of her bus from Raft. She came to the front gate of the old Victorian-era townhouse, the ground floor of which she shared with Jane Lane and went through it. She went up to the front door of the house and opened it.

Hearing voices coming from inside the ground floor unit she shared with Jane she paused at the front door. Sounds like Jane's back, she thought. Is that Amy with her? She shrugged. It'll be good to see Amy.

Then another, male, voice cut into her consciousness. Southerner, she thought. I wonder why they have a Southerner... no, two Southerners, she thought as a second, lighter voice, came into the conversation. Why two Southerners? Unless... A pall of cold fear began to grip her heart. Has Richard gone back to his world? And did they send these two here to give me the bad news, and Amy's here to help Jane help me cope with that news?

A third voice came in. That's Richard! she thought. Perhaps they're here to make sure things go smoothly when he breaks the bad news to me. At least he's decided to tell me face-to-face.

Just as she reached to put her key into the front door lock of her apartment she heard Rawlings' voice, reluctantly at first, break into song.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The hire car pulled up in front of the old Victorian house where Daria and Jane apartment was and shut down its engine. Jane, Rawlings, Amy, Longstreet and Jeb Stuart all got out and, while Amy, Longstreet and Stuart all started to follow Jane inside the apartment Rawlings stood on the driver's side of the car, his eyes staring at the house.

Jane noticed this. "Richard," she said. "Are you all right?" Rawlings said nothing, but simply stood staring at the house. Both Longstreet and Stuart looked concerned.

Amy moved over to Rawlings. "Richard?" she said, touching him on the arm. "Is there something wrong?"

At Amy's touch Rawlings shook himself. "This is Emma's house," he quietly but clearly said. "I wasn't all that sure from the address if it was still standing." He looked at Amy, and then at the others. "But this is where the Harrisons lived."

Oh, s**t, thought Jane. "I didn't know that," she said. "And I suspect that Daria didn't know either. We chose it because it was in an old house, was surprisingly roomy and quite affordable." She walked over to Rawlings. "Will you be all right, Richard?" she asked.

Rawlings smiled down at Jane. "I should be," he said. "After all, this is now where you and Daria live. It's just that..." He trailed off.

"It was a shock to find out that not only was the Harrisons' house still standing but that Daria was also living there," Amy said. "And I wouldn't be all that quick to say that Daria doesn't know this is Emma Harrison's house, Jane."

"Why is that, Amy?" Jane said.

"From what you've told me, and from what I've seen, Daria may be slightly obsessed with her dead cousin," Amy said. "She would want to find out as much about her as possible, most likely as a way to get closer to Richard so that if she lost him she would still have something of him with her." She looked at Rawlings. "I hope this isn't freaking you out. At least not too much."

Rawlings gave Amy a small smile. "Not really," he said. He indicated the house. "Lead on, Jane." They all walked through the wrought-iron gate and up the path to the front door of the old house. Opening the door, Jane let them into the entrance hall.

Looking around the others could see that the house had been divided into two largish units, one upstairs and one downstairs. The entry hall continued out through the building to the back. "We've got the ground floor unit," Jane said. "A couple of post-grads live in the upstairs unit." She shut the front door of the building and opened the front door to the unit.

They all trooped into a quite large living area. In the front bay window was Jane's artist easel, which stood on a drop cloth that protected the carpet on the floor. In a corner, separated from Jane's work space by a bookcase, was Daria's work area. Next to the door stood a television, video and DVD players and a stereo system Next to it was a bookcase that had a whole range of videos and DVD in it, as well as a CD holder. On the other side of the door were a coat rack, an umbrella stand and a shoe rack.

Along another wall ran a large bookcase that had on it various works of literature, textbooks and books on art. Set into the wall, and next to a doorway that opened onto a hall, was a fireplace. Instead of a coal fire, however, there was now a gas heater. In the middle of the room, situated on a rug, was a couch and a pair of armchairs. All showed signs of some wear, and in front of it was a worn coffee table. On it were some newspapers and remotes for the entertainment equipment. "It's not much," said Jane, "but it does me and my amiga well."

Amy walked over to Daria's work space. On her desk she saw a photo of Daria and Rawlings she recognized as one that had been taken on the night of the, by now, legendary family dinner where everybody in the extended Morgendorffer-Barksdale clan had acted civilly towards one another. Above the desk, hanging on the wall, was a framed computer printout, and next to it was a close-up of an inscription. "I see what you mean," Amy said, "about Daria having Sullivan Ballou's letter and tombstone hanging above her desk."

Jane shrugged. "It still kinda freaks me out," she said. She looked around the room. "Coffee, anybody?" she said. Looking at Longstreet and Stuart she said, "I'm afraid it won't be quite at the strength you're used to, if that lethal concoction Richard brewed at my place is anything to go by."

Longstreet and Stuart smiled. "It'll be fine," Longstreet said.

Jane looked over to where Rawlings stood. "Richard?" she asked.

Rawlings was standing next to the coffee table, looking around the room. "This was the front parlour," he said. Indicating where Jane's easel stood, he said "I was standing there when we heard that the Charleston defences had opened fire on Fort Sumter. I was telling Jack and Ned about my decision to return to Virginia." He looked over at the others. "It was only a couple of days after we had buried Emma."

Amy walked over and took Richard's hands. "Richard," she said, looking Rawlings in the eye, "that was the house in your world. Not this one. This one's somewhat older and has had some changes done to it."

Rawlings smiled at Amy. "Intellectually I know that you're right," he said. "Emotionally..." He let his words trail off. Indicating where Daria had her desk he said, "That's where the Harrisons had their upright piano." He released his hands from Amy's and looked over at Longstreet and Stuart. "Em always could play quite well," he said. "Remember that? Even out of those rickety old pianos in either the Officer's Mess or in the Colonel's quarters in those outposts out West she could always coax a sweet tune. And we'd all stand around and sing, especially in the evenings." He looked back at where Daria's desk was. "We did the same here as well, before..." He trailed off.

"I'm afraid Daria wouldn't know how to play a piano," Jane said. "And she only took up harmonica playing only to irritate her parents when they, or should I say Helen, went overboard on family rules and regulations." She smirked at Rawlings. "They even had a Family Court."

Rawlings' eyebrows rose at that news. "Somehow I'm not all that surprised," he said. "I suppose that comes from having met Helen." To Longstreet and Stuart he said, "Daria's mother is a lawyer."

"Ah," said Longstreet. "Pity we can't introduce her to Charles Marshall. That'd be something worth seeing." Stuart snorted at that while Rawlings gave out a chuckle.

"Who's Charles Marshall?" Amy asked.

"Colonel Charles Marshall, late of the Confederate Army, was President Lee's chief aide-de-camp," Longstreet said. "He's currently his chief of staff in Richmond. He happens to be a lawyer and a pretty good one too. I think he'd have been able to argue Mrs. Morgendorffer out of her position quite easily." He snorted in amusement. "Not too surprising, given who his great-uncle was."

"And who was his great-uncle?" asked Jane.

"John Marshall," Longstreet replied. "He was Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court. I daresay your Mrs. Morgendorffer would have heard of him."

"Oh, I think Helen would have heard of the United States' greatest Chief Justice," Amy dryly said. She looked at the three Confederates. "It's things like that, that one of your colleagues not only is working for a major historical figure but is related to another that keeps hitting me in the face. You're all interconnected in one way or another." She gave Longstreet a fishy look. "It is rather disconcerting dealing with people who are found in our history books," she said.

Longstreet arched an eyebrow. "And I can assure you that it is equally disconcerting to find oneself a subject for a history book,"he replied. "Even if it is that other James Longstreet." He nodded at Stuart. "I think Jeb feels pretty much the same way."

Jane decided to change the subject. "So, who's for coffee?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So," said Jane as the coffee was served out. "You said that you all sang around pianos. I suppose that was what you did for entertainment of an evening, what with no TV and no Sick, Sad World." She smirked over the edge of her mug.

"Which is not necessarily all that bad a thing," Longstreet said. "Having seen your 'television' I think I can well do without it."

"It is shocking, I agree," Jane said. "However, there is something to be said for the entertainment value of bad TV shows." She sipped her coffee. "Me and my amiga watched Sick, Sad World when we were in high school together, plus we also had Bad Movie Night, where we commented on just how shocking they were. Daria's sister, Quinn, and her amiga, Stacy Rowe, have joined us on that form of entertainment." She shook her head. "Now Quinn, I could easily believe how sarcastic she can get, being Daria's sister. Stacy, however, really surprised me. Quite pleasantly, too." She sipped her coffee. "Must be as a result of being repressed by the Fashion Queen at Lawndale."

"She's one of the girls Quinn was in that Fashion club with, wasn't she?" Amy said.

"'Fashion Club'?" asked Longstreet. He shared a rather dubious look with Stuart. "They had clubs that dealt in fashions?" He took a drink of his coffee.

"They sound like they were worse than some of the fops you see around Richmond," Stuart said.

"Don't look at me, Jeb," Rawlings said. "I may dress well, but never to the extremes taken by the fashion pates. Unlike someone else I could mention."

"That was for effect on the battlefield," Stuart said. "It worked."

"Yes, like the fact you have Harley-Davidson leathers and a customised motorcycle is for effect," Amy darkly said.

"She has you there, Jeb," Longstreet said. "She has you there."

"Well, I'll admit that was a little indulgence on my part," Stuart said. "Pity I won't be able to take them back with me."

"How come?" asked Jane."

"Too unusual," Stuart said. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to maintain it back home, so it'll stay here. But that won't mean I'll not get any use out of it." He grinned at Amy, who scowled in reply.

Am I wrong, or is Jeb Stuart enjoying needling Amy over his motorcycle? thought Jane. If she's anything like Daria when she gets mad, she thought as she put down her mug, it won't be pretty. Deciding to change the subject, Jane said, "I know this is an imposition, Richard, but would you mind giving us a song?" She shot him a pleading look.

Rawlings looked uncomfortable with Jane's request. "I'm not too sure that may be a good idea, Jane," he said. "I'm really not that good." Jane's eyes widened at the last statement.

Both Longstreet and Stuart snorted laughter. "Not that good?" said Longstreet. "Richard, I know you tend towards being modest, but really!" He looked at a puzzled Amy and bemused Jane. Indicating Rawlings he said, "Richard here has one of the finest singing voices amongst the senior commanders of the Army of Northern Virginia. The Old Man got him to lead carols singing on Christmas Eve at Moss Neck Manor, where Tom Jackson had his headquarters. Plus he was also in demand at various gatherings in Richmond, where he had the eligible young ladies hanging off every word." He grinned at a clearly embarrassed Rawlings.

"Oh, I know he can sing," Jane said. "Me, Daria and Quinn, Daria's sister, halted outside the room he was staying in at Casa Lane one night and heard him sing some song." She looked at Rawlings. "It was on the first night you were staying in Casa Lane, too. I was going to ask you what it was, but never got around to it. So what is it called, so I can look it up?"

Rawlings looked at Jane. "It was called Lorena, Jane," he said. "It was quite popular on both sides during the War." He grinned suddenly. "It made soldiers on both sides so homesick that both the North and the South tried to ban their men from singing it. However, that was honoured more in the breach than in observance."

"Well, I can tell you it had an effect," Jane said. "And not just on me. Daria was pretty much blown away by your singing, so I can understand the belles of Richmond being similarly affected."

"Now you've got me curious," Amy said. "I would like to hear this singing voice for myself."

Rawlings looked at Jane and Amy. "Well, if you insist," he said. He stepped into the middle of the room. "This one is a song I found out was written in 1866," he said. "It struck me as a pretty song, so I learned it. It's called Nora." He took a breath and, slowly, started to sing.

"The violets were scenting the woods, Nora, displaying their charms to the bees,

When I first said I loved only you, Nora, and you said you loved only me.

The chestnut blooms gleam through the glade, a robin sang loud from the tree

When I first said I loved only you, Nora, and you said you loved only me."

Both Jane and Amy listened raptly, Amy finding that, although the words were slightly different, the tune was identical with another, similar song she was familiar with that she knew as Maggie. My God! she thought. I can see why Daria was struck.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Transfixed, Daria simply stood there, a moonstruck expression on her face, just as she had been in the hallway outside his room at Casa Lane. I'd forgotten just how good he was, she thought as she listened to him sing.

"The golden dewed daffodils shone, Nora, and danced in the breeze of the Lee,

When I first said I loved only you, Nora, and you said you loved only me.

The birds in the trees sang their songs, Nora, of happier transports to be,

When I first said I loved only you, Nora, and you said you loved only me.

Our hopes they have never come true, our dreams were never to be.

Since I first said I loved only you, Nora, and you said you loved only me...

And you said you loved only me."

The singing died away. For a moment there, Daria simply stood there, her hands hanging by her sides. Then, as her thinking capabilities began to return, she reflected on the words of the song. Does that have some connection with why he and those other Southerners are here? she thought. Only one way to find out. Steeling herself, she put her keys in the lock and opened the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Everyone in the living room turned as the front door opened. There, framed in the doorway, stood Daria, wearing her long green dress, her long-sleeved high collared white blouse and her fitted jacket.

"Hello, Jane, Amy," Daria said as she came in. She closed the door, took off her backpack and, turning, faced Rawlings. "Richard," she said.

Rawlings said nothing, but simply stood there, transfixed. Behind him, both Longstreet and Stuart looked at Daria. "My God," Stuart said. "Not only does she look like Emma Harrison, she even sounds like her."

"You mean like when she was making sarcastic and often scurrilous comments?" replied Longstreet. "Which was, I do admit, a lot of the time."

Daria looked past Rawlings at Longstreet and Stuart. "Are you..." she started to say to Rawlings but then halted. She squinted past Rawlings at, first, Longstreet, and then Stuart, her eyes widening in shock as recognition of who they were hit.

She turned to Jane. "Jane," she said. "Could you please explain to me why we have three Confederate generals, two of whom are major historical figures from the Civil War, in our living room?"

Longstreet walked over to Daria, having stood, along with Stuart, when she had entered the room. "Miss Morgendorffer," he said, taking her hand and bowing over it, "please accept my apologies for this intrusion, but Richard," indicating Rawlings, "has something quite important to say to you." He gave Daria an assessing look. "Sounds like you know who me and my colleague are," he said.

Daria nodded. "You're James Longstreet," she said, a little sandbagged to be standing in the presence of a major figure from the Civil War. "Lee's War Horse." She indicated Stuart. "And I strongly suspect that's the 'Bayard of the South,' Jeb Stuart."

"Pleased to meet, you, ma'am," Stuart said. He too, came over and bowed over her hand.

Daria reclaimed her hand and looked at the three Confederates. "You say that Richard has something he need to tell me," she said, her semi-monotone alto beginning to go flatter than normal. "I had been expecting this, but I'm also glad that you've let him come to tell me himself." She forced a sickly smile. "Although I hadn't expected the Confederacy's senior cavalry commander and one third of the Army of Northern Virginia's commanding triumvirate to be in attendance." It was clear to all in the room that Daria had come in expecting the worst.

"Oh, it not what you're thinking, Daria," Jane said. "Not at all."

Daria looked at Jane, her puzzlement clear on her face. "Then why does Richard have two Confederate generals with him if he's not going back to his world and has come here to say goodbye?" she asked.

"I think that's something that Richard had better tell you himself," he said. "And I think we had best go outside." He indicated that the others should follow him out the door. "We'll be on the front porch waiting," he said. The others all got up and followed Longstreet out the door, leaving Daria and Rawlings alone.

Daria turned to face Rawlings. "So," she said. "Apparently they're not here to make sure everything went smoothly if you were telling me you were going back to your world. What is it, then, that you are going to tell me?" in Response, Rawlings pulled out of his coat pocket a folded sheet of paper.

"I think you had better read this," he said, holding it out. "It'll help explain everything."

"Somehow i don't feel all that reassured," Daria replied as she took the piece of paper. She unfolded it and started to read, her eyes widening as she did.

Executive Mansion, Shockoe Hill, Richmond, Virginia. 5th of April, 1868.

General Longstreet:

Please convey my congratulations and my best wishes to Lieutenant-General Rawlings on both his appointment to the grade of Lieutenant-General, Confederate States Regulars, and on his finding such an extraordinary young lady as has been reported to me. I do hope and pray that they will be very happy together and that she will do her utmost to repress the quality that earned Lieutenant-General Rawlings his most singular nickname. Secretary of War Davis also asks me to pass on his congratulations and best wishes as well, as does Senator Hampton, the Chair of the Senate Armed Services Committee.

The only condition I attach to this letter is that I expect to meet the extraordinary young lady who has had such a positive effect on General Rawlings in the not-too-distant future, a condition heartily supported by both Secretary Davis and Senator Hampton.

Pete, I would also like you to return to Richmond as soon as possible. Your testimony is required before the Senate Armed Services Committee not only in the matter of Lieutenant-General Rawlings' appointment, but also in your own appointment as General-In-Chief, Army of the Confederate States . Senator Hampton, however, assures me that there should be no real difficulties in approving both appointments but does point out that we are bound to observe the forms. I expect, however, that you will be required not only to spend a great deal of time here in Richmond but also in travelling between our world and this new one that we have stumbled into, something that both Secretary Davis and Senator Hampton both agree with.

Once again, please pass on the congratulations and best wishes of both myself , Secretary of War Davis and Senator Hampton to Lieutenant-General Rawlings.

Yours Respctly.,

R.E. Lee,

President of the Confederate States of America.

Daria finished reading the letter and looked at Rawlings. "Does this mean what I think it means?" she asked.

Rawlings nodded. "It allows me to do the one thing I have been wanting to do since I met you," he said.

Daria smirked at him, but her reply was cut off as, before her eyes, Rawlings took a couple of steps and went down before her on one knee. "Daria," he said, taking one hand and looking straight into her astonished eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"They've been there for a while," said Jane. "Do you think we should go in there and check up on them?"

Amy looked at Jane. "I'm sure that when they want us to come in they'll..." She was cut off as the front door of the house opened.

Rawlings stuck his head out. "Will you all come in?" he said. "We have something we both want to tell you." He stood to one side and let them all troop in through the entry hall and into Daria and Jane's apartment. Inside, Daria stood in the middle of the living area, her face carefully neutral. To Jane, however, she thought that there was a slight hint of devilment in her eyes.

As Rawlings came in and went to stand beside Daria, Longstreet said, "So, when's the happy event?"

Daria looked at Longstreet. "We're not getting married," she said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For a moment, there was nothing but silence in the room. Then Jane said, "Say again?"

"We're not getting married," Daria said. Seeing the looks on their faces she smirked. "Well," she continued, "at least not straight away."

Both Longstreet and Stuart looked at Daria. Then, they both started shaking their heads and chuckling. "God damn," Longstreet said, "you really are like Emma Harrison!" He tried to give her a stern look but couldn't help grinning. "That is exactly the sort of trick she would have pulled."

"Would have pulled?" snorted Stuart. He looked at Rawlings. "Pardon me for saying this, Richard, but I do seem to recollect her doing something exactly like that back in late '59. Not too long after Ned Harrison left the Old Army, if I recollect."

Rawlings smiled. "Em did," he said. He put an arm around Daria, drawing her in unresisting against his side. "Somehow I'm not all that surprised." He looked over to Jane and Amy. Both of them were glaring at Daria.

"You know that I'll pay you back in spades for that little trick," Jane said.

"And I'll have a lot of fun forestalling your revenge," Daria replied.

"So when is the happy couple tying the knot?" Jane said. "And when are you letting Jake and Helen know?"

"Not for about a year and a half, Jane," Daria said, snuggling in close against Rawlings. "Although I'll probably call my parents tonight and give them the news." She looked up at Rawlings. "Richard and I agree that I've got to finish college first, and I also told him that it looks like I'll be doing some post-graduate study."

"And I was looking at coming up to Boston to do some study for about a year in any case," Rawlings said. "So we decided that we'd spend a year and a half really getting to better know one another before we took the plunge." He smiled down at Daria. "Besides, it also allows me to get some things ready for the wedding."

"So where's the wedding going to be?" asked Jane.

"Well, I did say that if my first two choices didn't come to pass we could hold it in the back garden at Mount Folly," Rawlings said. "But I did manage to get Daria to agree to a church wedding."

"Well, that's a bit of a surprise," Jane said. "I though she would have held out for a civil service. But a church wedding would be nice." She looked at Rawlings. "So where did you suggest? Somewhere that your family has connections to, no doubt."

Rawlings nodded. "Unfortunately there isn't a Carter family connection, so I won't be able to get Christ Church in Lancaster County, Virginia," he said. "But, given the time frame we've decided on, I'm pretty sure I can get Bruton Parish Church in Williamsburg."

Amy goggled at Rawlings' calm, matter-of-fact statement. "And if you can't get Bruton Parish Church?" she choked out.

"I'm pretty sure I could get Grace Episcopalian Church in Yorktown," Rawlings said. "After all, my family helped rebuild it in 1848." Amy just goggled at the Virginian's calm statement. Daria, seeing this, just smirked.

"I'm missing something here, aren't I?" said Jane. "I can get the significance of the Yorktown church, but what's the importance of this other one?"

Amy turned to face Jane. "Jane," she said, as calmly as she could, "Bruton Parish Church is in the heart of Colonial Williamsburg. Which was the capital of the Colony of Virginia and, later, until the capital was moved to Richmond, the State capital. Bruton Parish Church is where many of the Founding Fathers, such as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Patrick Henry, worshipped when they were in Williamsburg for business. Probably the only church that's more important to our national history is the Old North Church, or Christ Church, here in Boston." She looked at Rawlings. "God, if you pull that off," she said, "Helen will be damn near insufferable, crowing not only how her eldest daughter managed to get herself a Virginian aristocrat, but also a wedding at Bruton Parish Church in Williamsburg!" She chuckled. "Even if you hold the wedding at Mount Folly she'll be insufferable, boasting that her eldest daughter got a wedding at a Southern plantation house!"

"Yes, Daria did explain to me about her cousin Erin's wedding at that country club near Lawndale," Rawlings said. "Plus I did get a hint of the competitiveness of the Barksdale sisters that evening in Helen's living room. I think that we may be able to keep things civilised, somehow."

"So, who's to be the best man?" Longstreet said. "Of course, I'm assuming that may well be for the ceremony you'll also be having in Richmond."

"What do you mean, 'also in Richmond'?" asked Jane.

"Well, I have no doubts that you were discussing the wedding that'll be held here," Longstreet replied, " so as to enable the bride's family to attend. But Richard here's not just a Confederate general, he's also a Virginian Tidewater Aristocrat who just happens to have been the most eligible bachelor in the state. So, in order to fulfil his social duties there he'll have to have a ceremony in Richmond." He looked at the couple. "I take it he's told you about that little twist," he said to Daria.

Daria nodded. "Although I'm not exactly thrilled at being shown off like a prize filly," she said, "I do understand the need for it." She looked at Jane. "Will you be the maid of honour?" she asked.

"You have to ask?" Jane said. "But will I be allowed to go with you to Richard's world for the other ceremony?"

"Don't see any problem from our side of things," Longstreet said. "You, and I mean all of you," he continued, "have shown you know just how to keep a secret. And I'm pretty certain we can work things out with your Government." He looked at Rawlings. "So, who's the best man?"

"I think Custis would be a good choice," he said. "After all, we did go to school together, even though he went to the Point afterwards while I went to VMI. I'll see if I can send him a message tonight giving him the news."

"Who's Custis?" asked Jane.

"George Washington Custis Lee," Rawlings said. "Currently he's a Major-General in the Confederate Army. And yes, he's one of those Lees."

"You mean he's related to Robert E. Lee?"

"Eldest son," replied Rawlings. "When his mother eventually passes on, he'll inherit Arlington House and its grounds." He looked at Longstreet. "Shall we tell them where he's stationed?"

"Why not?" asked Longstreet. Looking at the others, he said, "Custis is stationed at our version of Belvior Plantation. He's overseeing the training of various training cadres of our men with some weapons we've acquired from your people."

"Oh?" said Daria. "What weapons?"

"None of your 'armoured-fighting-vehicles'," Longstreet replied, "but basically a weapon called the AK-47-Assault-Rifle and such like. Stuff we can maintain and manufacture ourselves."

"I see," said Daria. "Won't that be a possible invitation for... adventurism, shall we say?"

Longstreet shook his head. "I understand what you're trying not to say," he said. "I can assure you that we do not have any desire to try and conquer North America. And even if we did, it would be impracticable, as we do not have either the population base nor the industrial and economic base for doing so. And not for the foreseeable future, either. Besides, we've also got the example of your version of the Untied States and this idiot adventure in the Middle East to dissuade us from that sort of adventurism. We'll pretty much be staying within our own borders, thank you very much."

"What about Mexico?" asked Amy. "If I recall my history correctly, several Southern politicians, most notably Albert Gallatin Brown of Mississippi, argued before the War for the annexation of Chihuahua, Sonora, Coahuilia and Tamaulipas to the United States."

"True," Longstreet said. "However, much of that was in order to balance the North's growing dominance over the South. Besides, Mexico's pretty much under the protection of France, and staying in the French Empire's good books, not to mention Great Britain's, is more important than dreaming about Mexican annexations. Besides, we've got more to worry about, building our country after the War."

"Anyway, bringing the subject back to the topic of Richard's best man," Daria said. Looking at Rawlings, she said, "So you've chosen him because he's accessible?"

"Accessible and an Old Army friend," Rawlings said. "Does he meet my fiancee's approval?"

"Well, I could think of a worse fate than marrying into the Lees if that had to come about," Daria smirked. "Besides, it would make Mom's day to have a Lee relation at the wedding." She looked at the clock. "Almost time to get dinner ready," she said. "Or are we eating out tonight."

"Eating out," Jane said. "We could go to that pizza place near Raft."

Daria eyed her best friend. "You just want to see how Amy and I cope with having James Longstreet and Jeb Stuart eating pizza with us," she said.

"Well, the thought did cross my mind," Jane said. "But you have to admit, that's a pretty good pizza place."

"True."

"Pizza?" said Longstreet. "Just what exactly is that?" He indicated Rawlings. "Richard here described it as sort of like a large johnnycake with all sorts of toppings on it, but said that one had to experience it to understand it."

"I think that would be acceptable, Daria," Rawlings said. He grinned at Longstreet and Stuart. "Believe me, it is an experience one does not forget in a hurry."

Both Longstreet and Stuart gave Rawlings some rather uncertain looks at his statement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later, in The Pizza Place, Daria, Jane, Amy and Rawlings looked on with some amusement as Longstreet and Stuart contemplated their slices of pizza with some disquiet.

"So, this is pizza," Longstreet said. He looked at it before he gingerly picked it up. "Looks... interesting." He took a sniff. "Smells... interesting too." Gingerly he took a bite, chewed and swallowed, looking thoughtful all the while. "Not all that bad," he said. He looked at Stuart. "Try it, Jeb," he said.

Stuart gingerly picked up his piece and took a bite. "Not bad," he said. "Pity we don't have anything better than this lolly water to drink with it," he continued, indicating the pitcher of Ultra Cola on the table.

"This place is strictly BYOB," Jane said. "However, we didn't exactly get to go to a booze shop before we hit here, so we just go without."

"Besides, I don't know what sort of wine goes with pizza," said Daria as she sat snuggled against Rawlings. "Possibly something named either Thunderbird or Mad Dog 20-20. Nothing you'd be caught drinking."

"I don't know about that, Daria," said Rawlings. "If you are talking about the kinds of wine I think you are, they're probably better than some of the concoctions we saw and, on occasion, imbibed during the War." He, Longstreet and Stuart exchanged evil, reminiscent grins.

"Such as?" asked Jane.

"Popskull," said Longstreet.

"Knock 'em Flat," said Stuart.

"And, let's not forget," said Rawlings.

"Oh! Be Joyful!" said all three.

"I take it that those are names of varieties of hooch?" Jane asked.

"If we couldn't get it, we made it out of what we had on hand," said Rawlings. "Kept us pretty warm on those winter nights." He grinned at Daria, Jane and Amy. "One recipe called for the stuff to ferment with raw meat in it for a month. Gave it an old, mellow taste."

"One variety was a mixture of bark-juice, tar-water, brown sugar, and lamp oil mixed with alcohol," Longstreet said. "That was 'Oh! Be Joyful!', a term we got from the Northern troops, along with the recipe."

"My God!" said Amy. "Makes cheap ripple wine look positively tasteful!" She looked at the three Confederates. "I'm surprised it didn't send anybody blind!"

"It wasn't quite that strong," said Longstreet. "But it did lend a little merriment to the camp."

"I'll bet it did," said Jane. Suddenly, something that had been bubbling away at the back of her mind surged forward as she realised just what had gone on at the unit. "I just realised something," she said, looking at Daria and Rawlings. "That entire set-up about 'not getting married:- at least not straight away.' You were doing that in order to get back at me and Amy for sticking our noses into your affairs, weren't you?"

Daria smirked back in reply. "Don't get us wrong, Jane," she said. "While Richard and I are very grateful that the four of you did what you did do, we both decided that you needed a little lesson about playing yenta." She looked up at Rawlings.

"And once my intended here," Rawlings said, "explained what she wanted to do, well, as a Virginian gentleman and her intended, it behoved me to help her in this little effort." He, too, smirked at Jane and Amy, but transferred it to Longstreet and Stuart.

Longstreet and Stuart exchanged looks. "And so 'Reckless Rawlings' once more plays his part in a deception operation to perfection," said Longstreet. Stuart nodded.

"I hope that you will still consider being in the groom's party for the wedding, whenever and wherever it's held," said Rawlings.

"Oh, I'll be there," said Longstreet. "Since I played a part in bringing that happy state of affairs about, I reckon I might as well see it through." In a quieter voice, he said, "I'd be honoured, Richard. Thanks."

"I'll be there too," Stuart said, "and so will Flora. We'd both be honoured."

"So, when are you telling Quinn the news?" Jane asked.

"I'll tell her tonight, after I've called my parents and given them the news," Daria said.

"Or you could tell her now," Jane said. "She's just walked in. Problem is, Stacy Rowe's just walked in with her."

"Oh, crap," said Daria. At the several sets or raised eyebrows, Daria said, "Back in school Stacy couldn't keep a secret, although Quinn tells me she's matured somewhat since I met her." She looked over to where Quinn stood in the doorway, obviously scanning for some empty seats. "She's spotted us," Daria said as Quinn started in recognition, smiled and made her way over to where they were seated, Stacy following.

"Hi, Daria," Quinn said as she came up to the table. "Hi, Jane! I see you're back." She grinned at Rawlings. "Am I right in suspecting that Richard here was the reason you were suddenly called out of town?"

"You could well say that, Quinn," Jane said. She suddenly smirked evilly and said, "In fact, you can ask Daria all about it. I do believe she has something very important that she's just dying to tell you." Daria scowled at Jane, who simply smirked.

"She has something to tell me? Something important?" Quinn frowned. Then, seeing just how Daria and Rawlings were snuggled in against each other, her eyes widened in shock and then her face broke out into a very big smile. "You're kidding!" she said. "You're getting married?"

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," Daria said. "We haven't set a date, though, despite the prompting of a certain Yenta of my too-long acquaintance. Who, I may add, I have often felt the need to put into a certain bridesmaid's dress and then put into a pine box." She looked at Jane, who simply smirked back.

"One of these days I am going to have to find out a bit more about this famous bridesmaid's dress," Rawlings said. "And see it."

"Not if I can help it, buster," said Daria. "Wearing it just the once was bad enough."

Rawlings grinned at Daria. Turning to Quinn, he said, "And who is your charming friend?" he asked.

Quinn turned to Stacy. "Richard, this is Stacy Rowe, my equivalent of Daria's amiga. Maybe not as talented a graphic artist as Jane, but better than most." She looked at Daria and Jane. "Some of her ideas for Fashion Design have gotten some good reviews from our lecturers."

Stacy blushed. "But you're top of the class, Quinn," she said.

Quinn blushed faintly. "Stacy," she continued, indicating Rawlings, "this is Richard John Rawlings of Mount Folly, Virginia. And, so it seems, Daria's fiancee."

Rawlings had stood as Quinn introduced him. "Charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss Rowe," he said, reaching over to take her hand and bow over it.

In response, Stacy blushed even harder. "Daria's lucky," she said. "And I'm envious."

"I'm sure such a delicate charmer as yourself most certainly has the young lads' heads turning as she moves amongst them," Rawlings said as he sat back down.

"You can tell he's a smooth one," Daria said as she reclaimed him. "But I like him for it."

"He's better than Upchuck, that's for sure," Quinn said. Looking around, she saw Amy. "Sorry I didn't get to you sooner, Amy," she said, "but Daria's news sort of distracted me." She looked at Daria's ring finger. "Hasn't he gotten a ring for you yet?" She looked at Rawlings and slowly shook her head. "Richard, Richard," she said in mock sorrow. "And here I was thinking you'd be a good husband for my sister."

"In my defence, may I say that I only proposed this afternoon," Rawlings said. "And that was due to the intervention not only of your aunt and Jane, but also of my esteemed colleagues here," he said, indicating Longstreet and Stuart.

Quinn turned to look at Longstreet and Stuart. As she examined them, her eyes widened slightly in recognition. "Uh, Daria, could I please speak to you for a moment? Outside, in private?" She waited for Daria to disentangle herself from Rawlings before she and her sister walked outside the pizza shop.

"Are they...?" Quinn asked. "And are they who I think they are?"

"If you mean Confederates, and if you mean are they James Longstreet and Jeb Stuart, the answers are yes and yes," Daria replied. She looked back into the shop where Rawlings was busy introducing Longstreet and Stuart to Stacy Rowe. "I have to admit," she continued, "it was somewhat unsettling to have two of the Army of Northern Virginia's senior commanders fetch up in my living room earlier today. Especially when I thought they were here to make sure everything went smoothly for... Well..." Daria wound down into silence.

"You thought they had come up here to make sure everything went smoothly when Richard said goodbye to you, didn't you?" Quinn quietly said. "I understand completely." She took Daria's hands in her own. "And I have to say that I'm glad things have turned out the way they have," she said. "You were really beginning to give me and Jane some concerns for your well-being."

Daria's eyes began to sting with tears. "Thanks Quinn," she said. "I think we've really managed to avoid the kind of relationship our mother and aunts have had over the years." She blinked the tears away and looked back inside. "And I suppose we had better head on back in."

As they re-entered the pizza store Quinn said, "So, when are you gonna tell the parental units?"

"Tonight. I wonder how they'll take the news?"

"Daddy will probably assume the worst and think you're getting married because you've gotten pregnant," Quinn smirked. "Glad I won't have to be the one who'll have to straighten things out."

"That prospect fills me with joy overflowing," Daria dryly said. She stopped and turned to face Quinn. "You'll be one of my bridesmaids, of course?"

"As if you have to ask," Quinn said. "Any idea where the wedding's gonna take place?"

"Richard thinks he might be able to get a church that his family has a fairly strong connection with," Daria replied. "But that won't be for a year and a half. I've got to finish college and it looks like I'll be doing some post-grad studies on a scholarship. And Richard looks like he's going to be coming up here to do some studies of his own." Daria looked back at the table where the others sat. "Well, we had better go and rejoin the others."

As Daria sat down Stacy looked at Quinn and said, "Quinn, you'll never guess who these two are."

Actually, I know who they are. But I won't be telling you, Stace, Quinn thought as she sat down. "Oh? Who are they?" she said.

"They're relatives of two Confederate generals!" Stacy said. Indicating Longstreet she said, "This is Pete Longstreet. He's related to General James Longstreet, who was Robert E. Lee's second-in-command." Indicating Stuart, she said "And this is Jeb Stuart. He's related to the famous Confederate cavalry general of the same name!" Stacy was besides herself with excitement."They're friends of Daria's fiancee from when they were in the Army together."

Longstreet stood and, taking Quinn's hand, bowed over it. "Pleased to meet you," he said. "I understand you're the younger sister of my esteemed colleague's fiancee."

Quinn smiled up at the big Georgian. "And I understand that you are a close colleague of my sister's fiancee," she said. "Richard told me all about his Army service when we met him last summer back home in Lawndale."

The quick smile that Longstreet gave Quinn told her that he understood what she was saying. "So I gather," he said.

Quinn looked over at Rawlings and Daria. "So, when are you going to get my sister an engagement ring?" she asked.

"We're thinking of looking at some jewellery shops tomorrow," Rawlings said. "After Daria's finished her classes for the day. I'll go and pick her up from Raft and we go from there."

"Daria said you were looking at moving up here to do some study," Quinn said. "You're not thinking of moving into the apartment she shares with Jane, are you?"

Rawlings shook his head. "I'll probably spend the next few days looking around the Boston real estate market," he said. "I'll probably be staying at the Parker House while I'm here." He looked at Daria and Jane. "When does the lease run out on your apartment?"

"We have a six-monthly lease on the place," said Jane. "We were going to renew it before the Christmas break. Why?"

"Well, depending on how things go," Rawlings said, "I can be set up here in Boston by Christmas. I was hoping that you and Daria would be able to come and share whatever house I purchase." He looked sheepish at the pair as he said that. "I know this is rather forward, but that way at least Daria and I could get to know one another better, and I think she would be far more comfortable with that living arrangement if her best friend was there with her."

Daria and Jane looked at Rawlings. "This is a bit... sudden, Richard," said Daria. "I don't know if I'm quite ready to move to that stage in our relationship just yet. Although," she smirked, "I can see some advantages to that sort of an arrangement."

"Yeah, but considering how thin the walls are in these old houses, I would have to live with the somewhat noisy consequences of such an arrangement," Jane said. This elicited a glare from Daria and chuckles from the rest of the people at the table.

"Perhaps you could find one of those old houses that have been broken up into two units, the way the one Daria's living in has," Quinn said. "You could take one of them and Daria and Jane the other."

"Not a bad idea, Quinn," said Jane. "That way, Daria only has to go either downstairs or upstairs if she wants to spend a weekend with her man and I'd be able to sleep at night."

"It also solves the other problem you were telling me about at Lawndale," Quinn smirked at Jane.

"What... Oh! You mean getting my roomie to go out more often," Jane said. "It could do. It could do indeed." She and Quinn smirked at Daria, who glared back.

"Jane, I swear your mind is constantly on one track," Daria said. "And Quinn... I believe Jane's example is rubbing off on you."

"Well, it is only natural for me to be concerned for my older sister," Quinn said. "Especially with the way you've been moping around." Her face sobered. "I was really concerned for your well-being, Sis," she quietly said.

Daria's expression softened at that. "Thanks, Sis," she replied.

"That is an interesting suggestion, Quinn," Rawlings said. "However, it doesn't factor in how the head of my household back home will feel bout the situation."

"Wouldn't he be happy you're getting married to Daria?" Jane asked. "He seemed pretty relieved to greet Amy and me once he found out just why we were there."

"I can believe that," Rawlings said. "It's just that, like any good butler or, come to that, regimental sergeant-major, Israel believes that I am incapable of properly looking after myself for any great length of time. He will either insist on coming himself or at least sending some help to keep house for me and to make sure I am properly dressed." He looked at the five women sitting at the table. "There's an old saying, attributed variously to Montaigne or Madame de Cornuel: 'No man is a hero to his valet.' I'm very much afraid that is pretty much the way Israel sees things." Both Longstreet and Stuart nodded, as though from personal experience.

"So you'll be getting a large house in order to have room for the servants," Jane said. "And if we did move in?"

Rawlings gave a small grin. "Israel would definitely be insisting on adding a personal maid for you, Daria," he said, "and probably an additional one for Jane as well."

"I see," said Daria. This was one little wrinkle she hadn't counted on: having servants. "And if we said no?"

All three Confederates chuckled. "As I said, Israel Horton is both an experienced butler and an ex-Regimental Sergeant-Major. Those types just do not take no for an answer."

"Well, I think you had better get used to the fact that you're going to be waited on hand and foot, Daria," said Quinn, grinning all the while. "'Cause it looks like it's going to be a part of your life if you marry Richard."

Daria gave a small smile. "Well, I suppose I could get used to that if marrying Richard is the compensation," she said, snuggling in close. "And, we had better get eating: our pizza's getting cold.

"Which reminds me," said Quinn, "that's the reason we came in. They do a great low-fat cheese pizza here." She and Stacy exchanged sheepish grins. "Don't know why we didn't think of that back in school." She looked at the others. "Do you mind if we join you here?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The following day Rawlings went and picked up Daria from Raft.

The previous night he, Longstreet and Stuart had checked in at the Parker House, which Quinn and Stacy were impressed to find out was one of Boston's premiere hotels, while Amy dossed down on the couch in Daria and Jane's living area. The following day Rawlings drove Amy, Longstreet and Stuart back to the airport where they took their respective flights out for Washington and Richmond, while Rawlings returned to begin his search for a suitable building.

Just before noon he collected Daria from Raft, drawing a lot of attention from both the male students (who suddenly realised just why Daria wasn't interested in any of them) and the female students (who, although they realised that Daria wasn't any competition for any of the male students, found a different reason to be envious.) After lunch at the Parker House's restraunt (which impressed Daria) they went down Boston's high street with Daria on Rawling's arm as usual, looking at both engagement and wedding rings. All of the rings they had looked at in the more conventional jewellery stores somehow did not suit either of them, and it wasn't until they passed the window of an estate jeweller that they found Daria's engagement ring.

It was Daria who spotted it first. As they were passing the jeweller's window she happened to glance in. Suddenly she stopped. "Richard!" she said, looking intensely at the window display.

"Seen something you like?" he asked. In reply Daria simply pointed. When he saw what she was pointing at, he drew in a startled breath.

There, displayed on a black velvet background, was a ring. Its setting consisted of brilliant emeralds with fine white diamonds outlining it and set in a true lover's knot.

"That's the ring I saw in my dream!" Daria said.

"Dream?"

Daria nodded and turned to Rawlings. "Back in Lawndale, when we had our nap after the picnic lunch on Sunday," she said. "You remember?"

Rawlings gave her a fond smile. "How could I forget?" he said. "Falling asleep with my head resting in your lap with your hand stroking my hair is one of my most cherished memories."

"Well, do you also remember just what I said my dream was about?" Daria asked.

Rawlings frowned slightly. "You were talking with Em," he said. "Something about your having a chance at something she had missed out on, but that it would eventually come to you." He looked at Daria. "Was there something else?"

"Yes." Daria pointed at the ring. "In my dream Emma gave me a ring that looked just like that." She saw Rawlings' face go pale. "Is there something wrong?"

Rawlings opened his mouth, then swallowed, and then opened his mouth again. "I gave Em a ring very much like that when we got engaged," he whispered hoarsely. "But that," he continued, pointing at the ring in the window, "can't possibly be the ring I gave her, because we buried her wearing it. I put it on her hand before we closed the casket lid just before we headed to the Central Burial Ground here in Boston, and I saw her casket lowered into the ground." He looked at Daria. "Do you think...?" he began.

"Richard, I don't know just what I think at this point in time," Daria replied. "But I do know one thing: I'm going in there to ask a few questions." She headed into the store, Rawlings following her.

She walked up to the sales assistant behind the counter. "Can you tell me something about that emerald ring in the window? The one with the emeralds set in a knot?"

The assistant gave her a smile. "We only just got it in a few days ago," he said. "The person who sold it said it had come down through their family from a distant relative who had a best friend who died. Her friend had a ring just like that one, and they had it copied, with just a slight alteration to the design so that they could tell the two apart."

Rawlings had gone slightly pale. "Rachel," he whispered.

"Richard?" Daria said.

"Rachel Edwards," Rawlings said. "That has to be her ring." He looked at the assistant. "Are there some tiny rubies set in the corners of the knot?" he asked.

"Why, yes there are!" said the assistant. "You seem familiar with the story."

"You could say that, yes," Rawlings said. "Rachel Edwards was the best friend of the young lady who owned the other ring, a Emma Harrison. She was engaged to a... relative of mine. She died of a fever back in 1860 not long before Fort Sumter was shelled and was buried with her engagement ring." He looked at Daria. "Miss Harrison was a distant cousin of my fiancee here."

"I see," said the assistant. "If you like, I'll go and get the ring from the display." Rawlings nodded and the assistant went and got the ring.

Rawlings took the ring and looked at it. "That's it, all right," he said. "It was made by the same jeweller. Miss Edwards was engaged to be married to Jack Harrison, Miss Harrison's brother. Both he and my... relative had the rings made up with a slight difference because..."

"Because the two girls were almost inseparable," Daria whispered. "Like Jane and me." She looked at the ring. "Will it be too outrageous if I run screaming out of the store if that ring fits?" she asked.

"Only one way to find out," Rawlings said. He took the ring and placed it on Daria's ring finger. "No, not a perfect fit," he said.

"It is somewhat loose," Daria said. "But..." Her eyes widened. "Richard, if this fits Jane's hand, I will simply be too freaked to scream," she said.

"Then we had best make sure that it doesn't," Rawlings replied. He removed the ring and looked at the assistant. "We'll be taking this one," he said.

"Excellent!" said the assistant. "If you like, I can put it in a case for you. Unfortunately we don't do resizing here."

"That's fine," said Rawlings. He paid for the ring, picked up its case and both he and Daria walked out of the store.

"That was just a little too weird, even for my taste," said Daria as they walked back down the street.

"I hope you didn't mind my purchasing this ring," said Rawlings. "It was a little presumptuous of me to do that without asking."

Daria shook her head. "Actually, having this as our engagement ring is somehow comforting. Its almost as if... all of this was meant to happen. That we were meant to find one another and, well, finding this ring seems to confirm that." She snuggled in close to Rawlings' side. "Besides, I can't wait to show it to Jane and then tell her the story behind it."

"As if living in the Harrison's old house hasn't been unsettling enough," Rawlings said. "You intend to unsettle her even more?"

"It's one of the cornerstones of our friendship," Daria explained. However, she gave a small shudder. "Mind you, I'm still coming to terms with the fact that Jane and I are living on the ground floor of Emma Harrison's old house." She looked up at Rawlings. "How goes the search for a house?"

"Reasonably well," Rawlings replied. "I've got a couple of possibilities. I'm looking near the public transportation routes so as to avoid driving in Boston's traffic as much as possible." He looked around. "Back when I last visited Boston the horse-drawn traffic was bad enough, and the introduction of automobiles seems to have made it much worse." He looked down at Daria. "Hopefully I should have purchased a place and gotten settled in by the Christmas break."

"Complete with servants and maids, no doubt," Daria said. "That's something I'm going to have some difficulty coming to terms with: having a maid. I hope I don't let it spoil me."

Rawlings looked down at Daria and patted her hand where it was resting on his arm."No chance of that,"he said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You know, this whole thing has been pretty freaky at times," said Jane as she and Daria sat in front of the TV watching 3 Ninjas: High Noon at Mega Mountain, a film they had rented from a nearby video store that dealt in cult and trash movies. She looked at the engagement ring on Daria's finger. "I mean, it was pretty weird finding out that we were living in Emma Harrison's house. You and Richard finding that ring in an estate jeweller's shop here in Boston... that is freaky!" She shook her head. "And it belonged to Emma's best friend?"

Daria nodded. "Richard says he's got a photograph of the four of them back at his world's version of Mount Folly. He's going to try and have it sent to the Mount Folly of this world." She looked at Jane. "And, with the way things have been going, I would not be at all surprised to find that Rachel Edwards bore a strong resemblance to..."

"Daria, if she does, I will probably go running screaming through the night," said Jane. "That would just be too damn freaky for me to handle." She smirked at her best friend. "Looking forward to the big house and all the servants?"

Daria shot Jane a somewhat sour look. "Richard's going to try and limit the number of servants in whatever house he decides to buy," she replied, "but he expects his butler will insist on overseeing everything himself." She suddenly smirked at Jane. "And he's also said that he intends to have the walls of your room sound insulated."

Jane looked at Daria. "Why do I get the feeling that will be at the suggestion of a certain evil genius friend of mine?"

"I don't know. Why do you get this feeling?"

"Probably because I know her too well," replied Jane.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once again, Daria found herself standing in front of Emma Harrison's grave. But this time, although she presented her usual stoic facade to the world, inside she felt... content.

She knelt down in front of the gravestone and placed a spray of forget-me-nots on the grave. "It's me, again, Emma," she said. "You cousin, Daria."

"I've got some news for you. Richard turned up here the other day, and I thought that he had come to say goodbye. Turns out that wasn't the case. He had come up here to propose. And I accepted.

"We won't be getting married any time soon: Richard's agreed that I have to finish my studies here at Raft, and he's decided that he'll come up here so as to be with me. He'll also be doing some study of his own, though he hasn't decided if he'll attend Raft or go to Boston. So we're looking at a wait of a year and a half. Gives us some time to get ready for the wedding.

"He's also looking for a house here in Boston where we'll be staying. He was a bit disturbed at the prospect of sharing mine and Jane's apartment, though not for the reasons some people might think. It turns out that we were living on the ground floor of your old house. No offence intended, Emma, but even Jane found that bit of news just a little too creepy. So once Richard finds a house and we let our lease on the apartment expire, we'll be moving in with him." She settled back on her heels. "I know it sounds a bit forward, but it's not as if we haven't been... intimate with each other. Besides, it'll also allow us both to get to know each other better, the way that Jane and I have gotten to know each other better by sharing an apartment for the past two years. And, as I said to Richard, it is quite accepted these days."

She looked down at her left hand. "We also found a ring that Richard says was made up for your best friend, Rachel Edwards," she continued. "It looks just like the one you gave me in that dream I had back at Lawndale. Finding that was, I admit, somewhat freaky. But, given all of the other strange coincidences that have happened recently, I'm taking it as a sign that Richard and I are meant to be together. And I understand what you, if you really were appearing in my dream, were telling me.

She rose. "Well, I had better go," she said. "Oh, and one more thing: it may not be a sign that I'm cracking, my talking to you. Richard told me that people speaking to the dead tended to be quite common in his... well, where he's from. As if people believed that the dead could hear them, something I can understand quite well.

"Well, good-bye for now, Emma. I'll probably bring Richard with me next time and then leave you two together: he has some things he wants to tell both you and your family." She turned and walked towards the exit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Again, unbeknownst to Daria, she was being watched. This time she was being watched by two shapes who stood underneath a tree inside the burial ground. However, she would not have been able to see them, even though they were standing in the open. The smaller of the two wore an outfit that bore a strong resemblance to the one Daria wore, while her companion wore the uniform of a Confederate officer. On the ring finger of her left hand she wore a ring similar to Daria's

The smaller, more feminine of the two looked up at her companion, a smile on her face. Her companion looked down, smiled at her, and then gently squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm. Then, they both turned around and walked off, slowly fading from view. A sigh of contentment drifted on the breeze and then faded away. The graveyard returned to its long, eternal slumber in the autumn sun.

Fin. (For now)