Martinsburg

July 14, 1861

Faint wisps of music wafted on the evening breeze, so bright and cheery they tempted Evelyn’s foot to tap. She rose from her writing desk, the early evening shadows making her lines of script harder to see. Leaving it for later, she moved to her bedroom window, where the air felt laden with moisture and the gentle breeze seemed weighted in its effort to lift the edges of her curtain.

Voices mingled with the chords of a pianoforte, and somewhere nearby a mockingbird trilled. Evelyn leaned against the window frame and watched the street below. It almost seemed like a normal evening, where people laughed and collected in groups that would soon visit the Grady’s house for a time of fellowship and dancing.

If she wanted, Evelyn could pretend all was well. She could join Aunt Mary and Isabella’s charade and merely act as if life had returned to a semblance of normalcy. And, in a sense, perhaps it had. Since Patterson had set his guards, life had settled into a strained lull. One where people tried to forget their worries and sorrows in the haze of company, music, and dance.

But all had changed for her. She could not return to the timid girl she’d been. She’d protected Isabella, but her aunt and cousin still seemed displeased with her every word and action. Would not even her courage esteem her in their eyes?

Though, to be fair, she’d also caused their enemies to take up residence on the property. Evelyn watched people gather below, the increasing feeling of restlessness plucking at her.

Perhaps if she could do something to help a cause she’d previously not taken up, all would be forgiven. She plucked at the curtain. But had she not fully taken their side, a side which Isabella had denied, when she’d shot that soldier? It seemed that, too, had not been enough.

Though she’d discounted the reports in Daddy’s increasingly infrequent letters, it seemed he’d been right about the Yankees.

She brightened. Why worry over her aunt and cousin? Was not her true place at her father’s side now that she was a woman? If she proved her dedication to Daddy’s cause, would he see her as a woman who could aid him rather than a child to be handed off to others to rear?

Evelyn watched the Yankees below as a trumpet cast bright tunes into the humid air. Wicked beings, Daddy had warned, with their unjust taxes and selfish constraints on sovereign states.

Her anger stirred. Their march into Martinsburg proved it true. Naught but a barrage of useless scoundrels who wouldn’t be satisfied until they had pillaged, plundered, and otherwise squeezed the life out of them all. And not on the battlefield, but here in their very homes.

These same men who had swarmed their streets and broken into homes and businesses now strutted about like invited company down for a cordial visit rather than devils the residents should seek to oust with both prayers and prodding.

The music grew louder, and the conquerors would soon enjoy their dancing next door at the Grady’s house the same as they’d done the three nights prior. Merely ten days of occupation, and Martinsburg seemed to have forgotten the fear it had felt when the army marched in. Businesses had reopened, and from what Isabella said, were glad to receive Federal silver and gold instead of Southern shinplasters.

The stars and stripes hung from windows in the square, and Federal sympathizers openly boasted as though they’d forgotten Martinsburg hung in a precarious position. Evelyn watched the soldiers for a few more moments and then turned from the window to light a lantern. Resting it on her desk, she set about twisting and pinning her dark locks into an intricate style.

If the Blues were going to frolic, then by goodness, she would make use of it. Wouldn’t her father be surprised when she sent him information for his news reports?

She donned a set of silver earbobs and clipped her mother’s pearl necklace around her throat. Evelyn studied herself in the mirror, turning to the left and right. Perhaps a little more…

She allowed the drape of her rose gown to slip down to the edge of her shoulders, careful that she displayed only enough creamy skin to intrigue, not entice. As a final touch, she slipped a flower into her waves of hair and turned from the mirror.

Her writing desk held the letter she’d thrice tried to compose to inform Daddy of her situation. Perhaps after this evening, she’d have something he’d relish knowing. And even if she gathered nothing of import, he’d surely be proud to know she did not cower.

She slipped a pair of gloves over her fingers and stepped out into the hallway. Though Evelyn closed her door with a soft click, Isabella’s own door across the hall immediately flew open.

Her cousin stepped out, narrowing her eyes. “Where are you going?”

Evelyn tried to step around her. “To the party.”

Isabella grasped her elbow, her nails digging into Evelyn’s skin. “Are you mad? What will Mother think?”

She pried her cousin’s hand away and tried to keep bitterness out of her tone. Did they not see that her care for her family was exactly what had driven her to this? “I am thinking of her. And you, for that matter.”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “By making yourself a fast girl with the Yankees?”

Heat crept up her neck and warmed her ears. “Isabella!”

She folded her arms over her silk day gown. Then she lowered her voice. “Evie,” she drawled, using a pet name Evelyn hadn’t heard since childhood. “You know what those brutes will try even if a lady doesn’t give them the first nip of encouragement.”

Evelyn’s throat tightened.

“So,” Isabella said, her voice strained, “what do you think is going to happen with you going over there dressed like that?”

Evelyn studied the concern in her cousin’s eyes, warmed by the notion that Isabella was worried over her safety. “I do appreciate your concern, but—”

Isabella’s eyes turned icy again. “But nothing. You will not earn such a reputation while you are staying here.” She jutted her chin. “You going to dance with the blue bellies is unseemly and will reflect poorly on me. No Southern gentleman of good standing is going to want to take on the scandal you are placing on my family. Can’t you see that?”

Scandal? Evelyn pressed her lips into a tight line and refused to comment. Isabella stared at her for several moments, the spark in her eyes growing sharper with each breath Evelyn took. Still, she stood there, wondering exactly what Isabella would do if she continued to defy her. She held her cousin’s gaze, no longer feeling like the inferior girl who should lower her eyes and meekly do as she was told. No, that girl had been lost with the crack of the revolver and the unrelenting truth of what she was capable of.

Finally, however, Evelyn inclined her head, and tension slid off Isabella. She kept her voice serine. “It’s not my intention to cause you any distress, though I find your concerns unwarranted. I’m only trying to find a way to aid our boys in gray.”

Confusion turned Isabella’s icy eyes to a stormy blue. “By dancing? Mother and I are working on organizing a supply collection. It’s a terrible bother, but—”

Evelyn patted her arm. “There, see? You do your part, and I’ll do mine by sending Daddy any information he can use.”

Isabella started to relax, then stiffened again as words Evelyn should not have spoken sprang free. “Don’t worry, this invasion will soon be over and you can go back to your parties and fripperies.”

Isabella blinked rapidly. “What did you say?”

Evelyn hurried to undo what Isabella would rightly deem an insult. “We were discussing how we are all trying to quickly see this invasion ended so we could return to normal life.”

Isabella started to nod, and then paused and narrowed her eyes. “When did you become so slippery?”

“Slippery?”

Isabella pointed a finger in her face. “Avoiding answering me and slipping other items of discussion into the conversation to distract from its true intent.”

Perhaps if her cousin had ever truly taken the time to know her, Isabella would not have asked such a question. Pushing down the rather hostile thought, Evelyn tried a smile instead. “Again, you misread my intentions. I didn’t mean to confuse you.”

Isabella scrunched up her face, her beautiful features twisted into an unattractive scowl. Then she spun around and stomped into her room, slamming the door for good measure.

Evelyn stared at the door for a few heartbeats, surprised not only at her cousin’s actions but her own as well. Had the threats around them turned them both into people they were not, or had it merely peeled back the layers of carefully crafted mannerisms to reveal the truth underneath?

A question for another time. She slipped down the stairs unnoticed, and then out into the heavy evening air.

She made it down the porch and part way across the lawn before one of the sentries appeared at her side. “Good evening, Miss Mapleton.”

The sight of the man’s easy smile turned her stomach against the deception she would work, but she reminded herself it must be done and plastered on a smile of her own. “Why, good evening, Private.”

He tipped his bearded chin toward the Grady house, which glowed with cheerful candlelight. “Going to call?”

“I thought on it. It’s rather lonesome sitting at home all day.”

He laughed. “I’m sure.”

Evelyn slowed her steps to more easily allow him to take her side as he was commanded to do. Though he but obeyed orders, being followed about like a toddler with her nanny grated. “But I’m sure you know all about that. Seeing as how you are stuck here with me.”

A guarded expression had his features tightening, so she produced the practiced laugh a lady used when she needed to charm her company. “Oh, I cannot tell you what a relief it is to know we can yet frolic despite this unfortunate division. I should thank you for your escort, even though you do not freely give it.”

His shoulders lowered slightly, and she watched him from the corner of her eye as they slowly ambled down the walk.

After a moment, the lines around his eyes crinkled with a smile. “It’s my pleasure, miss, orders or no. Though you truly have naught to fear. The citizenship has prospered under our protection and I believe the danger of rebel uprising has passed.”

Evelyn bristled under his poor choice of words, seeing as it was his fellows that had raided homes, but kept her expression serene. “Indeed. Tell me, are you lonesome, Private Harrison, this far away from home?”

He offered his arm to escort her through the gate and onto the street, and she let her gloved fingers slide onto his sleeve with the lightest touch possible.

“It’s only for a short while.”

“Still, I know your ladies at home must miss you terribly.”

Private Harrison chuckled but gave no other reply.

Evelyn grappled for a topic of polite conversation. “How do your boys fare over at Rich Mountain?”

He seemed more comfortable with a less personal topic, which suited Evelyn perfectly. “Well and good,” he said, lifting a hand in greeting to another soldier as they passed. “Restless, I hear, but that’s the way of it.”

“I can imagine four thousand men sitting about camp would grow rather restless.”

“And that much more for the seven thousand there.”

Evelyn withheld a gasp. Seven thousand! Three thousand more than the rumors stated. This could be information her father would covet. But was it true or merely an exaggeration on the soldier’s part? She produced a fan and waved it at him playfully. “Oh, come now, no need to embellish the numbers to one little lady.”

He steered her toward the neighbor’s gate, where two lanterns hung from posts like oversized fireflies. “You wound my pride, Miss Mapleton. The numbers are true.”

She tucked the information away. Not wanting to rouse his suspicions so that he could be lulled into saying more another time, Evelyn gave a little shrug. “Oh, very well, but let us discuss something more interesting. Do you suppose someone will play the fiddle this eve? I’ve always adored the fiddle.”

The lanky fellow gave a wide grin, and if not for the fact that he kept ranks with rapscallions, might have been considered handsome. “If they do, will you promise me a dance?”

Evelyn made a show of a loud sigh. “Perhaps I may consider it, if you promise not to dog every step I take.” She pointed her fan at him. “It makes it difficult to enjoy a moment of pleasantness with other ladies when there are men so closely about.”

He gave a small bow. “Certainly, Miss Mapleton. I will see to your safety from a distance, so as not to disturb your feminine discussions.”

“Why, Private Harrison, you may be becoming my favorite sentry.”

He grinned and handed her up the steps. “Here we are. I’m going to have a cigar on the porch with the lads while you enjoy your female company. Then I hope for that dance.”

She snapped open her fan and looked at him over the top. “And you shall have it.”

She ducked into the crowded house before he could say anything more and let the mask of a giggly girl slide from her features. Mrs. Grady had not invited Evelyn’s family to an event since Uncle Phillip and Paul had joined the Confederate Army. Would she make a scene when she saw Evelyn here?

She walked slowly along the foyer wall, giving little notice to the fine molding and glittering chandelier as she made her way deeper into the house. Perhaps this was a foolish idea.

Isabella was probably right. What useful information could possibly be worth the risk of their neighbor’s wrath? Despite being on opposing sides of a war, Aunt Mary would be furious if Evelyn stirred Mrs. Grady’s ire. The lady was too prominent in society.

The woman’s voice carried down the hall, and Evelyn’s pulse quickened. She should duck inside the library and wait until her neighbor passed, then hurry out.

She slipped through the doorway into the room where several soldiers gathered in groups in front of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves talking and puffing pipes or cigars. A few of the Federalist women moved about, giving her the confidence to scurry farther inside. She stepped behind one group of older gentlemen, officers by the looks of them, and perused the books on the shelf.

“And then Lincoln told him the Rebs were green, too,” one of the officers said, the cigar in his mouth muffling some of his words.

“All those volunteer boys are green. Complaining about blisters from their boots and pestering one another about when they will get to see more action.”

Evelyn ran her finger across the leather spine of a book, trying not to seem out of place.

“Green or not, that Congress cannot be held.”

She filtered through the information in her head. The Provisional Congress would be held on the twentieth of this month. It would be the first time it would take place in the new nation’s capitol of Richmond.

One of the other men spoke, but his words were lost under the hum of guests and the jaunty tunes of the twenty-first Pennsylvania’s regimental band.

Curious, Evelyn started to step closer when a feminine voice stilled her and sent a shiver of dread down her spine.

“Why, Miss Mapleton, what a pleasant surprise to find you in my home.”

Evelyn fashioned a honeyed smile upon her lips as she turned. “Mrs. Grady! Forgive me for not seeking you out sooner. I have only just arrived and found myself distracted by your books. I’ve read all of mine, you see, and well…” Her words trailed off as the hostess eyed her.

Evelyn found her fan and waved it in front of her heated cheeks. “I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion. I could not resist the music.”

The slender woman smiled, but Evelyn couldn’t tell if it was genuine. “Of course, dear. I’m sure any young lady would tire of being sequestered at home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Evelyn did her best to remain still, unsure what she should say to the hostess who had not invited her into the house.

Gracious lady that she was, Mrs. Grady gave a small nod. “Well, it’s good that you came. Now you can see that what happened at your aunt’s home was not indicative of our boys.” She patted a gloved hand against her perfectly styled hair, only a few strands of silver giving away her age.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve found those posted outside my door to be friendly.” The truth. Though what that meant in light of Daddy’s declarations she couldn’t be sure.

Mrs. Grady offered a bright, if somewhat oddly triumphant, smile and cupped Evelyn’s elbow. “How about you come join the ladies in the drawing room? My daughter is about to entertain us while the men enjoy their tobacco. Then, we’ll have desserts and dancing. Won’t that be lovely?”

Evelyn followed the woman away from the bookshelf, relieved she hadn’t disgraced her aunt by being ordered out. “Yes, ma’am. That sounds simply delightful.”

Mrs. Grady did not let go of Evelyn’s arm until she had her securely seated in the drawing room, and then glided away to speak with her guests.

Feeling out of place, though that wasn’t unusual, Evelyn settled into the plush chair and waited for Miss Grady to entertain them. The space was filled with handsome furniture and gilded frames that boasted the family’s ample means. Floral paper graced every wall all the way up to the thick, carved molding where the walls met the ceiling. Overhead, a chandelier dripping with crystals bounced light from dozens of tapered candles.

Evelyn listened as the ladies around her twittered, none of them seeming to have noticed her presence.

“Oh, have you seen Miss Simpson’s new gown? Why, what was her mother thinking?” one dower woman said, clicking her tongue.

“Then you add a pinch of grated cinnamon before you bake it,” said a woman to her left.

“Well, I heard that as soon as he returns, Michael Banks is going to declare himself for Sara. You wait and see.”

Evelyn toyed with the fringe on her skirt, for the first time realizing that she’d listened in on people who took little notice of her for most of her life. Perhaps she truly would make for a good partner for Daddy. People said all kinds of things in the presence of one of no consequence. Could that be true of newsworthy things as well?

A few moments later, the women quieted as Miss Grady began to sing. Evelyn supposed she had a pleasant voice, but she wouldn’t be starring in any opera houses.

While the others listened with rapt attention, Evelyn let her gaze drift around the room, flitting from face to face like a restless butterfly. Did any of the women here hold Southern sympathies? Impossible to tell. How did one know whom to call enemy when they all just looked like neighbors?

Daddy had said not to be fooled. Those radical people believed the Northern siege on Southern raw goods in order to make New England factories more profitable was of little consequence.

The singing finished and sweets were served. The time came for dancing. It took but a shy lift of her gaze, and two men immediately scrambled in front of her to ask for a turn around the floor. Without Isabella’s beauty to overshadow her, she may actually have an abundance of dance partners. Evelyn smiled and allowed the first fellow to take her hand.

He spun her around the dance floor, and by the time she finished twirling with him and then three others, she could almost forget these same men in blue could also be wolves.

Breathless, she was about to declare she required a rest when Private Harrison strode from the crowd.

“My dance, Miss Mapleton?” He gave a small bow.

Evelyn fanned herself. “Oh, I wondered if you would come. I fear I have grown quite wearied.”

“Not too wearied for one final dance, I hope?”

“Only one.”

He laughed and took her hand, guiding her out into the middle of the dance floor as the band struck up a waltz. He settled his hand on her lower back, and she touched her palm to his. They flowed through the box pattern she’d learned at the female college.

“Well, now, let’s see. What topic of discussion will interest you, Miss Mapleton?”

Evelyn gave him a mischievous smile. “I’m interested in politics.”

He moved her back and forth, his steps sure. “Not a normal area of concern for a woman.”

“Perhaps not. But when one’s father is a newspaper man, a lady could find herself more interested in the topic.”

“Are you close with your father?”

The unexpected question brought a sting of tears to her eyes, and she had to blink them away.

“I apologize,” Private Harrison said quickly. “I did not mean to be too personal.”

Evelyn shook her head. “No, it’s quite all right. I simply wish this fighting was over and I could join him as planned.”

He spun her around and then settled back into step. “Not to worry. We will crush Richmond before they can hold their congress, and that will be the end of it.”

Evelyn let a bemused smile turn her lips. “With the way things look, I fear that is naught but wishful thinking.”

“It is not!” He barked his defense, his eyes sharpening. “Lincoln has ordered McDowell to move out of Washington.”

She studied the young man in front of her, wondering if the information he gave was of any importance. Surely if a private knew these things, then Confederate officers did as well. Finally she opted for a tip of her head, and he relaxed once more.

The song ended and he escorted her through the house where she bade Mrs. Grady a good evening. Outside, the warm July night came alive with the sounds of crickets and frogs. Evelyn studied the stars glittering overhead. Oh, to live in such oblivion to the heartache of mankind.

As though sensing her melancholy thoughts, Private Harrison remained blissfully quiet until he brought her to her door.

“I thank you for the dance.” He doffed his hat. “And I do hope that you will get to see your father soon.”

Even though he wore colors that made him her father’s enemy, Evelyn gave him a genuine smile. “I thank you. Good evening.”

He returned the pleasantry, then slipped down the porch steps. Evelyn let herself inside and made her way up the dark stairs and into her room, her feet tired and her heart burdened.

She settled at her desk and stared at her missive. Should she tell Daddy what she learned? Or should she merely be honest with him that she felt unwanted and unloved at her aunt’s house and beg him to fetch her?

The idea tempted, but it would be ungrateful of her and only cause Daddy further distress. Sighing, she blew out her candle and prayed she’d find a way to be more to her family than an unwanted burden.