“Colter,” Hugh warned again, motioning to several people who stopped to stare at the shouting couple to move on.
“Christ!” Colter’s voice became a strangled groan. They had a child! He turned away from her, his mind reeling. A child? His vision wavered and he had to brace himself against the wall to keep from stumbling. His shoulders heaved as he struggled to breathe.
He was grateful that Hugh came to his side and lent the strength of his shoulder for him to lean upon. Colter brushed his hand over his eyes as if to clear them. She was lying! She had to be lying! He shoved Hugh away, but when he spun around, it was to see the last of Elizabeth’s skirt hem disappearing around the corner.
“Elizabeth! Damn you! Come back here!”
Hugh grabbed his arm before he could start after her. “I’ll go after her, Colter. You’d best get to the meeting.”
Turning to Hugh, Colter made no attempt to hide his anguish. “Find her. I don’t care how you do it, just find her.”
Leroy Walker, the Confederate secretary of war, sat behind his desk, his receding hairline streaked with the same gray as his beard. When Colter entered the room, Walker glanced pointedly at his mantel clock, heard Colter’s brief apology for being late and offered a curt nod.
Seated beside Brice, Colter, of necessity, banished Elizabeth from his thoughts and watched the secretary scan some correspondence before placing it in his portfolio.
Brice gave him a whispered summation of the discussion he had missed. Two months before, in September, Lincoln had declared his intention of issuing a proclamation to free all slaves as of January 1, 1863. The secretary informed them of various reactions, concluding with the opinion that Lincoln’s political opponents and several supporters exhibited uncommon good sense in condemning the plan.
Walker cleared his throat and set aside the last of his papers. “When you are ready, Colonel.”
Andre handed Colter his map case along with a mocking smile that irritated Colter as he opened the case and spread two small but detailed maps on the clean surface of the desk.
“Sir, before I explain General Lee’s intent, I would like to inform you that the rumors are confirmed. Since McClellan procrastinated so long in crossing the Potomac, Lincoln has relieved him of command of the Army of the Potomac and appointed Ambrose Burnside.”
“Burnside, is it? I’m not questioning the validity of your information, Saxton. I know your reliability too well. But you are aware that Burnside refused this commission twice before.”
“True, sir, he did. But this is confirmed.”
“This should amuse President Davis. Lincoln set a great store by McClellan. I am given to understand that he was insulted by his fair-haired general more than once. But I digress. His background?”
“Brice,” Colter ordered, and then stepped aside for him to stand at attention before the secretary.
Without embellishment, Brice reported Burnside’s background. “He successfully led the expedition that captured Roanoke Island from us in January of this year. McClellan gave Burnside command of one wing of his army at South Mountain and Sharpsburg. With all due respect, sir, our forces are in agreement that due to his delay in crossing early that day, we were stopped from suffering a crushing defeat.”
“Yes,” Walker agreed. “I recall Lee mentioning that in his report to the president.”
Brice returned to his seat and Colter motioned Andre forward.
“By all accounts,” Andre stated in his softly drawled voice, “Burnside does not feel that he is competent to command such a large army. Although he spent several days being briefed by McClellan, indications are that Burnside does not agree with McClellan’s plan to keep our armies separated. But Colonel Saxton will explain further.”
“With our General Longstreet near Culpeper and Stonewall Jackson in the Shenandoah Valley, sir, McClellan had intended to stop them from uniting. He had a good chance to do it, too, since it would take two days of hard marching for our forces to join.” Pointing to one of the maps, Colter continued.
“Our reports indicate that Burnside is marching along the north bank of Rappahannock toward Fredericksburg. He has reorganized his army into three divisions under the commands of Hooker, Sumner and Franklin.”
“Yes, we have that intelligence report. One of your people, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent job, Saxton.”
“Thank you, sir.” Colter hid his impatience with the politeness he was forced to adhere to. He wanted to be done and gone. “Lee feels that striking at their communications would be a mistake. He’ll cover the capital by crossing the path of the enemy. With his forces placed on the heights south and west of Fredericksburg, earthworks and artillery will fortify his position.”
Walker studied the map. His eyes were shadowed and he seemed to be lost in thought. “Small town, isn’t it? I remember fog hanging in the valley every morning, enough to hide the town.”
“Yes, sir. It slopes up from the river to low hills,” Colter answered. “The slopes are mostly clear, but there are woods here, sir.” Once again he drew Walker’s attention to his map.
“There’s nearly five miles to protect,” the secretary remarked.
“True.” Colter smiled and gazed at him. “I have good reason to believe there will be extensive delays for the Union forces to contend with. A mishap with the pontoon train would stop an immediate crossing of the river.”
Tugging his beard, the secretary grinned. “I see. Good reason, you say?”
“Yes, sir. And you must convey to President Davis General Lee’s considered opinion that he will not be able to stop Burnside from crossing the river. The Union force has deployed over one hundred guns on this rise of the left bank. It gives them a command of the intermediate plain.”
“Pity. Well, I must respect Lee’s judgment as I know the president will.”
“A survey of the area leads me to believe that Acquia Creek would be Burnside’s choice for a base. I will have confirmed reports of the exact sites within three to five days.”
“The president does not wish to have these blue bellies at the gates of Richmond again. Do convey that message to General Lee.”
“Most assuredly, sir.”
“If that is all, Saxton, the meeting is concluded.”
Colter nodded, rolling the maps and replacing them in their leather case, which he handed over to Walker.
“My respects to the president, sir.”
“Rest assured that I will give them, Saxton. He’ll be pleased with your report. And now that the formalities can be set aside, please remember that I knew your father well. As an old family friend, I want to know what’s wrong with you.”
“Nothing a few days’ personal leave wouldn’t help.”
“Are you ill?”
“No, sir. A matter requiring my immediate attention has come up and—”
“Three days. I’m sure that is all the time you can be spared without objections. You’ll remain in the city where I can reach you quickly should the president wish to speak to you further?”
“The hotel—”
“Yes, yes. I suppose you’ll be wanting leave for these young men of yours, too.”
Colter smiled and glanced behind him to where Brice and Andre waited expectantly. Turning back to face Walker, he said, “If it could be arranged, sir. They have been across the lines with me for almost two weeks.”
“I envy you your youth and stamina, gentlemen. If there is nothing else—”
“Since you’ve asked, sir,” Colter was quick to say, “Captain Morgan would like me to secure safe passage for his wife to return from New York.”
“Yankee?”
“They’ve been married almost five years, sir. She returned to her family almost a year ago when she suffered the loss of their child.”
“Bad business, that,” the secretary stated, picking up his portfolio.
“Indeed, sir,” Colter agreed. “The child would have been their first.”
“No. Not that. My intent is not to appear callous, but this business of having family loyalty split is bad.”
“I can assure you, Mr. Secretary, that no one would dare to question the loyalty of Hugh Morgan. No one.”
“Watch that rashness, Colter. We need you.” Sure that he had Colter’s attention, the secretary smiled to soften his reprimand. “I hope your men appreciate your quick defense of their reputations. I pray they never need to return the favor. Come, we’ll have my secretary draw up the papers to reunite your young captain with his lady.”
Colter carefully closed the door behind him and followed Walker. He hid his disappointment that Hugh was not waiting in the anteroom for him with news of Elizabeth.
Brice and Andre stood at attention, impatience stamped across their features. Colter couldn’t blame them. He knew, as they did, how quickly the order could come to cancel their leave. He buried a stab of guilt for the resentment he momentarily felt as the safe-conduct pass for Jenna Morgan was written then signed.
Colter glanced down and silently read it. “Pass the bearer and his party, unmolested, by Government transport.” Below was the secretary of war’s signature.
“You’ll need military passes, but I think you can secure those, Saxton.”
“Yes, sir.” Securing the paper inside his uniform frock coat, Colter, as well as Andre and Brice, bid Walker good day.
Once outside, the bitter wind had given way to a dreary rain. Colter swore softly and ignored the good-natured taunts between Brice and Andre over where they intended to go first. His announcement that he would return to the hotel to wait for Hugh brought him their undivided attentions.
“Whiskey and women, Colter,” Brice offered in a chiding tone, holding the bridle of Colter’s purebred hunter as he mounted. “Three days to forget the damn war, if we’re lucky.”
“Enjoy it. Both of you.”
“What’s gotten into you, Colter? You ain’t been listening to that puritan Jackson again?”
“That’s General Jackson, Brice, and no, I’ve not been listening to him.”
“Tart an’ snappy as the general findin’ ants in his vittles.”
“Leave him be, Brice,” Andre said. “Colter’s made other arrangements. Being a true gentleman, he has no intention of sharing. Do you?” he asked Colter, gazing up at him.
“If we were not friends, Andre, I would call you out for what you are implying.”
“But you will not, mon ami, because I am right.”
Brice quickly stepped in front of Andre. “You’re entitled to satisfaction, Colter, but—”
“Leave off, Brice.” Colter saw the blaze of deadly challenge in Andre’s eyes, true to his quick-tempered heritage that had him ready to fight at a word or a sidelong glance. Once Colter had been the same. Wearily he shook his head. Fighting was a pastime of the South’s men. Not only the young aristocrats like Andre and Brice, but even the poor whites could be ready with pistol or knife to avenge the real or imagined affront.
“Save your desire to have satisfaction for the battle-field, Andre,” Colter warned. “I promise you, you’ll soon have it.” With the seep of chill rain crawling down his neck, he swung his horse out into the street.
“Never remember Colter refusing a chance to drink and whore with us, even if he’s discreet as a parson,” Brice remarked, mounting his own horse.
Andre’s dark brooding gaze was targeted at Colter’s retreating back. “I believe the lovely widow planted a few immoral thoughts in his mind. Thoughts another woman couldn’t begin to satisfy. But she’ll bring him trouble.” With a rapid swing of mood, he turned to Brice. “My friend, it shall be up to you and me to fulfill the dreams of the Richmond belles.”
With a laugh, Brice shrugged off Andre’s dark mood, along with Colter’s unexpected anger. But his thoughts turned to his first sight of Elizabeth Waring, standing beside Colter at the top of the steps. Innocent and seductive. He couldn’t blame Colter. He couldn’t blame any man for taking what he could. Pleasure had to be measured in hours now. Brice felt a sudden sense of desperation. The world they knew, the one they all believed in was slipping away. He turned for a last look to where Colter disappeared and hoped Andre was wrong. Colter needed someone to care for, not more trouble.
Free from duty, Colter allowed his thoughts of Elizabeth to surface. He refused to examine Andre’s uncalled-for attack. Something was bothering his friend; he had never known Andre to provoke his temper in such a deliberate manner.
He would have to make time for his friend. He couldn’t work with him, worrying whether or not Andre would be there when needed.
Keeping his horse to a walk through the thronged streets, Colter fought off a bone-deep tiredness. He was in need of sleep, a peaceful few hours that would ease the weariness of weeks spent behind enemy lines.
At the corners of Broad and Seventh streets, Colter remembered where his favorite saddler’s shop had stood along with a hotel and the Richmond Theater. Stubble was all that remained of the buildings after a fire in January.
He waited for wagons of refugees to pass, closing his eyes briefly against the dazed looks reflected in most of their faces. He couldn’t remember the city being this crowded, but then he had been gone for weeks. An ambulance wagon lurched across the street and Colter stilled his hunter. The ambulance would be heading toward the warehouses down on Eighth. Since the summer battles had brought the fighting to the threshold of the city, a flood of wounded and their families had burdened every structure until even private homes had become hospitals.
Colter guided his horse behind the hotel to a small private livery. He was about to dismount when he heard Hugh call out to him.
“You found her,” Colter stated, knowing Hugh would not return unless he had. Hugh drew alongside him but didn’t dismount.
“Just get finished?” Colter nodded, and Hugh, reading the signs of impatience, quickly gave him directions. He wiped the rain from his face and leaned closer. “The house belongs to Emily Perkins, a widow. Her servant wouldn’t tell me much. Near as I could tell, there’s no one else there. Mrs. Waring has been residing with her for almost a week.” Hugh stopped and looked away from Colter. He wasn’t quite sure how to continue. He didn’t want to admit that he had over-heard most of Colter’s conversation with the lovely Elizabeth.
“Hugh?” Seeing the pained expression in the young captain’s eyes, Colter understood his reluctance to say more. “It’s all right. I’m sure you couldn’t help but hear us. And for whatever it’s worth, Hugh, I’m comfortable with your knowing about Elizabeth. As for—”
“Your secret is safe with me, Colter. I’ll think of something should Andre or Brice dare to question me.”
“There’s no need to lie. They’ve drawn their own conclusions.” Colter’s next question was burning to be asked, yet he found the words hard. “Did you by chance discover if there is a child with her?”
“No. I’m sorry, Colter. But we’re both fools for staying in the rain. I could use a warm brandy to chase this damn chill.”
“Go on, Hugh.” Colter stilled the restive movements of his hunter. “Here, I almost forgot this.” He pulled the safe-conduct pass from inside his coat and handed it over. “You’ve got three days’ leave. Don’t wait to take this to headquarters and get your military passes.”
“I’ve missed Jenna so,” he uttered with a simple honesty. “How can I thank—”
“No thanks are needed. I can’t repay you for what you did for me today.”
Hugh reached over and clasped Colter’s hand. “Are you going after her now?”
“I must,” Colter answered, like Hugh, speaking the simple truth.
Perched on the edge of the mulberry silk horsehair sofa, Elizabeth sipped the mulled wine that Emily Perkins had asked Rutha to make for her. A fire was burning in the back parlor given over for her use. She shivered beneath the serviceable flannel wrapper she had changed into upon getting back from Richmond. She wished her pride would have allowed her to accept Emily’s offer to use her carriage. The sudden rain had left both her best shoes and her spirit as sodden as the earth.
The only blessing she offered the rain was for its aid in escaping Colter.
She rubbed her aching temples. Colter. What was she going to do about him? It was another foolish mistake to have told him the truth about Nicole. How could she have forgotten Colter’s relentless pursuit when he desired something? After their confrontation this afternoon, she had no reason to believe he had changed.
A cold knot of fear expanded inside her. She had lost the opportunity to talk to Mr. Memminger about a job, and she didn’t have enough money to leave the city.
And even if you did, a tiny voice nagged, where would you run to?
She gazed at the ruby liquid in her glass and drained it quickly, praying for courage.
She would protect her daughter and, despite Alma Waring’s claims and threats, provide for Nicole. Somehow she would find a way.
You can begin by not making assumptions about what Colter will or will not do.
Why should Colter care about her or Nicole, no matter what he had said? Four years had passed without his making any attempt to contact her.
She realized that not seeing Colter all those years had been a blessing. Now there was no comfort to be had in heart or mind. He was an inescapable part of her life.
From somewhere, she had to find the strength to deal with this. There was no one to confide in, no one to depend upon to act as a buffer. Not even James, weak as he had been under his mother’s relentless rule, could protect her from her own feelings for Colter now.
The gloom of the day settled into the room, and it matched her mood. She had no idea how to dispel it. Sweeping her hip-length straight hair forward, she began to braid it, not caring that it was still damp.
When she was finished, Elizabeth rose, restlessly pacing over the faded Brussels carpet. Time and again she stepped to the window and watched the raindrops roll down the pane. She had no tears left. They had all been shed as she ran from Colter.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why did you leave me?” She could have asked him today, but she had been swept up in the joy and fear of seeing him.
Lost in thought, it took several minutes before she became aware that Rutha, Emily Perkins’s cook and, now that the slaves had run off, housemaid, too, was talking to Nicole. Elizabeth ran to the hall door, casting aside her grief for what might have been, smiling to hear her daughter’s laughter.
“Here’s your mama, chil’.” Rutha set the squirming little girl down.
Kneeling, Elizabeth held her arms open for Nicole. Her honey blond ringlets framed a face that had begun to lose its plumpness, giving a hint of the child’s beauty to come. For a moment Elizabeth savored the baby-sweet scent of her daughter and reaffirmed the vow that no one would ever take Nicole from her again.
“Rua gave me honey cake, Mama. I was so good.”
“I hope you were, precious.” Above Nicole’s head, Elizabeth’s anxious gaze sought reassurance from Rutha.
“Miz Beth, don’t be churnin’ butter what’s already done.”
“I won’t, Rutha.” Elizabeth smiled up at her, admiring once again the woman’s majestic height and slim, stately figure. Rutha’s face, unlined and smoothly polished like the glow of rare satin wood, gave no hint of her age. Elizabeth stood and held Nicole’s small hand. “Thank you again, Rutha. I know how much you have to do without the added care of her.”
“Hush. With Miz Emily’s misery comin’ on her bones with this rain, don’t have all that much to do. I don’t mine that chil’ none. She be a fine little lady for Rutha. An’ Mister Josh, he’s gonna have a swing for her in the garden real soon.”
“You both spoil her.”
“’Pears to me it’s ’bout time. An’ her mama could do with some spoilin’, too.”
“I’m all right, Rutha. We’re safe here.” Elizabeth turned away from Rutha’s arched gaze that said she recalled opening the door to a bedraggled woman who could not catch her breath for the stitch in her side from running. “Really, I am,” she repeated, leading the way to the parlor.
“Sure, an’ I picked cotton today,” she said coming into the room. “We’ll be needin’ the lamps lit. Don’t wanna be in the dark.”
“I don’t like the dark, Mama.”
“I know you dislike the dark, honey. I’m sorry I didn’t light them myself.”
Rutha finished lighting the second lamp, replaced the glass chimney and blew out the match. Walking to the fireplace, she tossed a piece of wood onto the fire and picked up the empty wineglass. “Jus’ nice and cozy for you an’ missy. Supper’ll be ready soon.”
“Will Miss Emily join us?”
“Don’t rightly know. I was plannin’ on seein’ to her now that you got little missy.”
“Tell Mister Josh I said thank-you,” Elizabeth murmured as she settled down before the fire with her daughter. She hid her face against Nicole’s hair, holding unpleasant thoughts at bay. She was thankful that she had been granted this sanctuary, the one place of refuge that Alma Waring would never think to look for her and Nicole.
Mister Josh would protect them with his life if the need arose. He was almost sixty, a tight white cap of curls attesting to his age, but his back was ramrod straight and he moved with the agility of a much younger man. Both he and Rutha bullied and hovered protectively over Emily, and now that same caring had come to include Nicole and herself.
A distant roll of thunder broke into Elizabeth’s thoughts. Despite the fire, the room was chilly, and she snuggled closer to Nicole. The child seemed content for the moment to be held, as she often was after a nap. Elizabeth sighed with the pleasure of having her child to herself. It was a luxury she would never take for granted again.
“Mama, Mister Josh is gonna give me a pretty doll.”
“Did he tell you that, Nicole? If he did, you can be sure that he will.”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, nodding her head. “He promised.”
Smoothing Nicole’s hair, Elizabeth asked, “Are you happy here?”
“I like it real fine. Miss Emily said I was a good girl. She doesn’t yell at me. I don’t wanna go—”
“Hush, love. We’ll never go back there. Mama promises you that. Never.”
Nicole squirmed against her tight hold. Elizabeth released her and wished she could ease the tension that held her in its grip.
Minutes later, Nicole begged a story. Elizabeth obliged, and then, to Nicole’s delighted laughter, she played out parts from her daughter’s favorite tale.
An hour passed, an hour without fear or worry, when crawling on all fours, laughing and growling at Nicole’s pretended shrieks were all that concerned her.
She thought she heard voices from the front hallway but could not make out whose they were. Moments later Rutha came into the room, wringing her hands in a manner so unlike her that Elizabeth immediately stood, rigid with fear.
“Best get presentable. There’s a gentleman come to call an’ he sure don’t take no for an answer. Mister Josh seen him skulkin’ up the road afore he come here.”
“Who, Rutha?” Elizabeth could barely get the words past the constriction in her throat.