Bay City Belle. Shirley Kennedy

With a defiant gleam in her eye, Allegra reached for a newspaper that lay on the table next to her. “Have you not heard of the Matrimonial News? It’s printed every week in Kansas City, a most respectable publication. Here’s the ad I answered.” She opened the paper and began to read. “‘A respectable gentleman of thirty years old, six feet tall, 170 pounds, doing a good business in the city of San Francisco, desires the acquaintance of a young, intelligent, and refined lady, of a loving disposition from eighteen to twenty-eight, one who could make his home a paradise.’” Allegra laid the paper in her lap and flopped out her hands. “How could I resist? I wrote back. He responded and wants me to come. He’s sending me a train ticket, and that’s all I’m waiting for. When it arrives, I’m off to San Francisco.”

      Mrs. Beauregard Bedford Stuart cleared her throat. All eyes turned to the group’s highly respected president, a formidable figure with her silver-grey hair worn in a stern knot, and her starkly plain, black bombazine dress. She gazed at Allegra with a mixture of alarm and incredulity. “Are you actually going to become one of those mail-order brides?”

      Allegra tossed her head. “Indeed I am, Mrs. Stuart. You can say what you want about staying loyal to the South, and I would if I could, but I can’t. My beloved Frederick was killed at Bull Run, so where does that leave me?” Her gaze swept the room. “I’m as loyal to our glorious dead as you are, but that won’t warm my bed at night, now will it?” She sat back in her chair, pleased her indelicate remark had caused a few nervous twitters. “Look at me. Twenty-five years old, young and pretty if I do say so. But who’s to care if I’m pretty or not? Our men are gone. What am I supposed to do? Drink tea and decorate graves until I’m fat and wrinkled and wither away?”

      “But, my dear…” Seldom at a loss for words, Mrs. Stuart seemed unable to speak, as if she’d choked on something.

      Victoria spoke up. “But Allegra, think of the chance you’re taking. What if you travel clear across the country only to find this Edward Smith isn’t who he says he is?”

      “Then I’d come home.” Allegra turned her attention to Belle. “Your sister is married and has her children, so how could she possibly understand? But you know what I’m talking about, being as we’re the same age and both of us still unattached. You’re such a pretty girl. Like me, if it weren’t for the war, we’d both be married by now, with children of our own.” She picked up the Matrimonial News and opened it again. “Listen to this, Belle. ‘Established restaurant owner of good character, thirty-three years old, six feet tall, 170 pounds, brown eyes, seeks to correspond with respectable young lady of pleasing appearance, preferably of full form. If interested, write to Robert Romano,’ and it gives the address.” She raised her eyes. “You fit his requirements perfectly. Just think, we could be neighbors in San Francisco. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

      Belle could think of nothing more unappealing than living next door to shallow, arrogant Allegra Barnes. But she would conceal her aversion to such a prospect and be polite, like she always was. “I’m flattered you’d ask, Allegra, but I’m happy as I am, thank you. Marriage isn’t everything. I like my life as it is, and who knows? Perhaps someday the right man will come along.”

      Allegra met Belle’s remarks with an annoying burst of laughter. “Highly unlikely, and you know it.”

      Yes, she did know. Only too well did she know, especially when she lay awake in the middle of the night, her heart aching because she must face the unbearable truth that she would never be married, never have children of her own. Not for the world would she reveal her true feelings, though. She shrugged with feigned indifference. “Whether the so-called ‘right man’ shows up or not, I’m perfectly content with my life.”

      Allegra folded the Matrimonial News and dropped it back on the table. “I suppose you think I’m crazy, but I’m not. Give it some thought. You might change your mind.”

      “Thank you, Allegra. I’m always open to new ideas.” Nothing like a polite lie to avoid any further discussion.

      * * * *

      As Weldon, their stableman, drove them home, Victoria couldn’t stop talking about Allegra Barnes. “That poor man in San Francisco doesn’t know what he’s let himself in for.”

      Belle nodded in agreement. “If he expects she’ll make his home a paradise, he’s in for a rude awakening.”

      “How nervy of her to imply you’d be interested in that ridiculous ad. If she thinks you’d actually leave your beautiful home for a man you’ve never met, she’s lost her mind.”

      Belle took a moment to answer. “Actually I don’t think Allegra has lost her mind. It’s that awful war that’s turned our lives upside down and twisted our thinking.”

      Victoria returned a disdainful sniff. “The war has nothing to do with it. Allegra’s always been a meddler.”

      Belle didn’t bother to argue. Victoria would never understand. She was one of the lucky ones. Before the war started, she married Harlan Beeman, a well-to-do young trader. When the time came, like every other able-bodied man from the South, he joined the Confederate Army. Through what the family considered a small miracle, he’d returned home unscathed. Now, although his business had greatly suffered, he provided a good home not only for his wife and three children, but for Belle and their brother, Bridger, as well.

      Belle threw her sister a rueful smile. “You wouldn’t understand. Despite what you might think, Allegra’s only doing what she’s driven to do. It’s human nature for a woman to want to be married and have children.”

      “So what am I not understanding? What about you? Do you mean you’re not happy living with us? I thought—”

      “Of course I’m happy. What would I have done without you?” Belle meant what she said. Before the war, the Ainsworth family lived a comfortable life among the genteel citizenry of Savannah. Her father had made his fortune on the Savannah Cotton Exchange. Her mother reigned as one of Savannah’s leading social figures. Their four children grew up in a city considered one of the most serene and picturesque in the country, known for its grand oaks festooned with Spanish moss, elegant architecture, fountains, and green squares. But their paradise didn’t last. By the time the war ended, the Ainsworth family had been decimated. Belle’s father, who’d been made a colonel, died at Antietam. Her oldest brother, Gregory, died a hero’s death at Chickamauga. Bridger, next to the oldest, survived but at a terrible cost. Their beloved mother died of typhoid before the war was over.

      When Weldon pulled the buggy to a stop in front of the Ainsworth mansion on the outskirts of the city, the Beemans’ three children tumbled out the door to greet them. “Aunt Belle! Aunt Belle!” Tommy, who was ten, Ellen, five, and Amy, three, rushed to their aunt and threw their arms around her.

      Ellen asked, “Did you bring us presents?”

      Belle bent to untangle all the little arms. “Not today, sweetheart, but maybe next time.”

      As they went inside, the children crowding around her, she noticed a peculiar expression on her sister’s face but didn’t think to ask why.

      * * * *

      “Bridger? Are you awake?” Belle knocked on her brother’s bedroom door. He hadn’t come down to dinner tonight, and she wanted to know why. “Bridger? Answer me!”

      “Come in if you must.”

      Her brother’s sullen voice came as no surprise. More than ever these days, he kept to his room, isolating himself from his family and the few friends he had left. Almost total darkness met her when she opened the door. “Good heavens, Bridge, let’s get some light in here.”

      He lay on his bed and watched while she took a match and lit the paraffin lamp on his dresser. “If you’ve come to scold me for not coming down to dinner, you can go away.”

      “I didn’t come to scold you about anything.” Belle sank into a chair beside her brother’s bed. The sight of him filled her with sadness, even though she should be used to the way he