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There were two couples, all in their sixties. Ron poured us both a drink of white wine and introduced us to their friends. James and his wife Grace. James was short a white haired man with a plump red friendly face and a pot belly which hung over his trouser waist band. His wife Grace was a little taller than him with shoulder length light brown hair, gently streaked with silver hairs. Grace had a friendly smile, her lips topped with deep red lipstick. She was wearing a long light blue dress with a long slit up one side, which showed her long slender legs, and a split neckline which nearly reached her naval which was joined by a see through material through which her small firm breasts could be glimpsed. James gave Maria a peck on the cheek his eyes roving over her figure as she pulled away after. Grace said hello to me and gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek. As she drew near I could smell the floral scent of her perfume and I noticed her piercing green eyes. Peter was a tall slim. Ellen Pettigerald had visited here twice before in the company of her friend and hostess, Regina-Lynn, the eldest daughter of the Mather family. She had sailed from England in the early spring of 1863 to visit her American cousin after the war had started, but the South, having won all of the early battles, was still intact, and confident that the dream of their prosperous cotton empire would prevail, along with the institution of slavery, which for a century had made it possible. Ellen had skirted the blockade the Union Navy had established around the port of Savannah, and her clipper had finally harbored in Texas, to escape the embargo of the Confederacy. After many delays, and an arduous overland journey, she had finally reached Candler County by train and coach, only to find her young cousin Pamela sick with pneumonia. Cooraclare had been her home in America for the first few months of her visit. Her uncle’s estate, named after their ancestral lands in Ireland, neighbored the.
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