Beloved Enemy Page 24

  “Ha!” Mary said out of the side of her mouth. “No use in wasting the time and the water, Miss Julia. Those clothes are fit for nothing but burning.” She pulled a pair of poultry shears from one of the kitchen drawers. “You can start with these. Make the pieces small to burn better.”

  Since she was already covered in grime from Rob’s embrace, Julia sat down cross-legged on the tile floor and hacked at the sodden wool pants and coats. The work was considerably harder than snipping embroidery threads or hemming dresses.

  “So that’s your man, Miss Julia?” Mary asked as she chopped at the clothing with a long kitchen knife.

  Julia blushed. “I’m afraid that he doesn’t belong to me, but yes, that’s Major Montgomery.”

  “He’s fine-looking, even under all that mud. I expect he’ll clean up pretty good.” She laughed. “And he’s yours, that’s for sure. Just ripe for the taking. All you have to do is look at his face to see that.”

  Julia bent her head over her task. “Maybe after the war. We’ll see then,” she murmured.

  Mary tossed a hunk of cloth into the glowing belly of the stove. “I doubt that man is going to wait for peacetime or anything else. You’ll see.”

  The front doorbell chimed. The two women froze. “More escapees?” Julia asked, getting up and brushing off some of the dirt.

  Mary shook her head. “Don’t you answer it, Miss Julia. Nothing good ever comes in the front door after dark. I’ll get Wilson.”

  Clutching the shears, Julia followed Mary up the back stairs and into the central hall. The front door shuddered under repeated kicks and blows of a cane. The chimes jangled. Wilson, his brown eyes hooded like a hawk, emerged from the parlor, followed by Rob and Stu who were now washed though still unshaven. They were half-dressed in fresh long johns and wrapped in blankets.

  “Open it,” said Stu, “it must be more of the boys.”

  Both Rob and Wilson shook their heads. “We were the only two to come here,” Rob replied. “Most everyone else was to fan out over Church Hill and head for the Mechanicsville Turnpike. Got to get as many of the men as possible away from the city before dawn.”

  “Besides,” added Wilson, “people always know to come to the side door. Front door is for Richmond white folks in the daylight. Miss Lizzie never opens the front door after dark, and I’m not going to start now.”

  Julia drew closer to Rob. “But what if it’s someone who’s been hurt in the escape? Maybe he was shot by a guard and is confused.”

  “Not likely,” Stu spoke up in a voice hoarse from a deep cough. “Any time the Rebs have discovered an escape, they’ve rung every bell in the city and called out the hounds. Whips up a real hullabaloo. Listen, the streets are still quiet, except on your doorstep.”

  “Open up!” shouted a man out front. “Lizzie Van Lew! You have got something that’s mine and I’ve come to get her!”

  Julia sagged against Rob. “Hellfire! It’s Payton Norwood! How did he ever find me?”

  Rob opened his blanket and wrapped her protectively against him. Though Julia’s nerves were stretched to breaking, she still felt a shock of forbidden excitement run though her when his thinly clad thigh pressed against her. His strong body gave her courage, and made her heart skip a beat.

  Wilson wrinkled his forehead. “What’s he want with you?”

  “My inheritance,” she whispered, afraid that Payton might hear her voice though the crack under the door. “He’ll get it if he can marry me, but I would rather die first. The varmint’s a bully at heart.”

  “I can hear that,” agreed Mary. “What are we going to do with him? He’s bound to wake up the Logans next door, and they won’t take too kindly to all that racket.”

  Stu coughed into his blanket.

  Julia looked at the feverish man. “You two should be in bed before you both catch a worse chill. We’ve got everything ready upstairs.”

  Mary took Stu around the waist and guided him toward the staircase. “Now you come along with me and we’ll fix you up fine. Major, don’t you tarry none. You don’t look too good yourself, you know.”

  Rob held Julia tighter. “Wilson,” he whispered. “Blow out the candles. Now, is there a gun in the house?” The man nodded. “Good. Please find it for me. I may be winged on one side, but I used to be able to load and shoot with either hand.”

  Julia shivered and wrapped her arms around Rob’s waist. She looked up at him. “You’re going to sh…shoot Payton?”

  He brushed a quick kiss on the top of her hair. She held him tighter. Her skin prickled with the heat of his body. She wanted to twist herself around him like a vine around a tree trunk.

  “He deserves a good round of buckshot,” Rob whispered in her ear. His breath warmed and tickled her. “But I don’t intend to blow a hole through Miss Lizzie’s door. Only if he breaks in. Then it’s justifiable.”

  Wilson returned with an old-fashioned Mississippi percussion-lock rifle and a box of cartridges. “You remember that man I saw hanging around the house the other day, Miss Julia?” he whispered as he handed the ammunition to Rob. “I saw him sneaking across the portico out back. Don’t you worry. The door’s locked and barred, and I got my cudgel right handy. He won’t get in.” He glided away down the darkened hall.

  Rob passed his blanket to Julia. Then he tore off the top of a cartridge with his teeth, poured the powder and shot down the barrel then wadded the paper down after it with the ramrod. She marveled how dexterous he was with only minimal use of his right hand. Then he pulled a side chair to the center of the hall, and crouched down behind it with the gun barrel resting on the seat.

  Just then, old Mrs. Van Lew called from the top of the staircase. “Who’s down there?”

  “It’s Lizzie’s mother,” Julia whispered to Rob.

  He glanced up at the tiny glow of a candle shining over the balustrade. “You’d better go stay with her. Don’t worry about Norwood. He won’t get by me.” He pressed a hard kiss on her lips. “Now hurry!”

  Outside, Payton’s blows increased in intensity while his language descended in vulgarity. Julia grabbed her candlestick and ran down the hall and up the stairs. Midway, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. The silver spill of the moonlight through the front parlor windows outlined Rob’s coiled body. A wave of pride and love washed over Julia. No other woman in history ever had such a gallant, brave chevalier as this man, who guarded her safety with one good hand, an old gun and a world of courage.

  She would marry him in half a minute, if he ever asked her.

  Mrs. Van Lew called again. Shaking off her romantic fantasy, Julia hurried to the second floor. Lizzie’s redoubtable mother had armed herself with her cane and an empty enamel chamber pot. The sight would have been ludicrous if the situation wasn’t so fraught with danger. Payton’s disturbance could bring the night watchmen, which would be disastrous for the two Yankees in the house.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Van Lew,” Julia soothed as she helped the old woman back into her bed. “It’s some crazy drunk fool who has confused our house with his own, I expect.”

  The sweet-faced little lady impaled Julia with a piercing look. “If my husband were still alive, he would have shot that man by now so a body could get some rest.”

  Julia returned a wry smile. “It’ll be just fine. Wilson is awake and will take care of him.” She thought it prudent not to mention the presence of the escaped prisoners under their roof. She had no idea how much the mother knew of her daughter’s secret life as a spy for the Union.

  Mrs. Van Lew rearranged her pillows. “A fine time for Lizzie to go off to the farm for some chickens,” she huffed, “especially when there’s an ornery rooster at the front door.”

  Julia sat beside the bed and held Mrs. Van Lew’s fragile hand. The loud ticking of the mantel clock lulled them both. Julia yawned.

  She awoke with a jolt just as the pink of pre-dawn washed over the treetops. Her candle had gutted in its holder, and Mrs. Van Lew snored slightly am
id the froth of her lace-edged pillows. Julia rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then glanced at the clock. She had slept for nearly five hours! She pulled on her robe, then tiptoed down to the staircase. Peeking around the curve of the banister, she saw the side chair standing solitary guard in the middle of the downstairs hallway, but Rob was not there. A quick glance at the front door confirmed that Payton had gone without evidence of a forcible entry. Had Rob been arrested by Payton? A cold fear lodged in her stomach.

  Wrapping her robe tighter around her, Julia scurried up to the third floor. The secret door at the end of the hall was closed and, to the casual glance, it looked like part of the molding. Holding her breath, Julia opened it slowly on its well-oiled hinges. In the far bed, Stu slept heavily, curled up under several blankets. Julia exhaled with relief when she saw that Rob was in his bed as well, or rather, he had fallen across it and his single blanket had slipped half off. The old rifle lay on the floor.

  I wonder how long he sat downstairs listening to Payton.

  Tenderness engulfed her, especially when she noticed his bare feet hanging over the edge of the mattress. For some inexplicable reason, she found the sight of his toes particularly adorable. She really should get him under the covers before he froze, but Julia had never before been inside a man’s bedroom—especially when two scantily-clothed men were also in residence. She rubbed her hands together while she tried to figure out the best way to pull the blankets around him. At that indecisive moment, Rob rolled over.

  He squinted at her, then grinned through his scraggly beard. “Evening, Miss Julia. Have you come to have your dastardly way with me?”

  Instead of being shocked, she giggled behind her hand. “It’s nearly daylight,” she whispered with a quick glance at Stu, “and I only wanted to see…that is, to make sure you were all right.”

  He pulled himself into a sitting position and ran his hand through his hair. Julia picked up the blanket and dropped it lightly over his shoulders. She wanted to touch him, to enfold him in her arms and warm him, yet she held back, suddenly shy. His weight loss in prison accentuated his classic features and, at the same time, revealed the energy and power that lay within him. He was a lone wolf facing the world on his own terms.

  Rob’s gaze roved over her and his smile broadened. “You are the best sight I have ever seen this early in the morning.” The warmth in his liquid-dark eyes beckoned her closer. Julia’s question of Payton’s whereabouts evaporated.

  The silence stretched and encompassed them. He held out his hand to her. Julia placed her fingertips in his palm. His long fingers folded around hers and squeezed with a gentle invitation. Hot blood, as if charged with lightning, surged from her fingers, up her arm and radiated throughout her whole body. Her inner core blazed. Rob bent over and kissed her fingers, one at a time, with agonizing deliberation. Her heartbeat pounded in her temples; her breath almost stopped. Julia felt herself drowning. Leaning toward him, she moistened her lips for his kiss.

  Rob raised his head, then he looked over her shoulder and his expression changed into a sheepish grin. “Good morning, Miss Lizzie,” he said with the innocent air of a small boy trapped with a warm apple pie. “Welcome home.” He released Julia’s hand with a squeeze of farewell.

  Travel-stained and tired around the eyes, Lizzie folded her arms across her bosom. Julia blushed. How long had she been standing there? Lizzie studied the pair speculatively. “Yes, Wilson told me it was an interesting night.”

  In the other bed, Stu coughed in his sleep and turned over. Lizzie lowered her voice. “When the two of you are dressed in more respectable attire, come down to the dining room. Mary will have breakfast on the table at eight.” Her bright eyes sharpened. “I fear I have dire news that may force a change of plan for both of you.” With that warning, she left them.

  Rob covered himself with the blanket. “I’m sorry, Julia,” he mumbled, looking away. His neck reddened.

  Julia swallowed down her acute disappointment. Was he sorry that his seduction had been thwarted, or sorry that he had even thought of it? She tossed her loose hair out of her eyes. “Of course,” she murmured. “Please excuse me.” She fled the room before he could say anything else.

  As she donned her green plaid day dress, Julia chided herself for her lack of discretion. What did Lizzie think of her now? Would she send Julia on her way?

  She brushed out her tousled curls. And what did Rob think of her? Would they have really become lovers as Lizzie had so graphically described to Julia? For a well-bred spinster, Lizzie Van Lew knew a great deal about subjects no proper lady ought to know. Staring at her reflection in the looking glass, Julia realized that she would have indeed allowed Rob to seduce her. She chewed on her lower lip. She’d become a hussy like the women outside the prison.

  Yet the prospect of giving her virginity to Rob did not shock her, as it once might have. An hour ago, the idea of making love with him had seemed the most wonderful, natural thing to do. Pressing her cool palms against her burning cheeks, Julia wondered how she could possibly sit down opposite him at breakfast as if nothing had happened.

  But nothing is exactly what did happen, thanks to Lizzie’s untimely arrival. With her emotions swimming in confusion, Julia put up her hair in a net and faced the day with the firm resolution not to make a fool of herself again—no matter what.

  Lizzie, looking clean and refreshed, gave her attention to her soft-boiled egg when Julia slid into her chair. Rob, across the table, flashed the brief grin of a fellow conspirator. Julia lowered her head; her heart turned over. He had shaved away his dark beard. With the astonishment of sudden discovery, she realized that she had never once seen Rob in the full light of day.

  Good gracious, he was very handsome!

  When she looked up from her plate, she caught him staring at her with widened eyes. She instinctively patted her hair, hoping that she met with his approval.

  “I’m afraid all we have this morning is corn bread, a bit of bacon, warmed-over peanut soup, soft-boiled eggs—and tea,” Lizzie announced with a decided disgust over the tea. She passed Julia a crystal bowl of preserves. “If you slather enough blackberry jam on the bread, it might make up for the lack of butter.”

  “Thank you,” Julia replied in a barely audible voice.

  She waited for Lizzie’s lecture or for the dire news, but her hostess only said, “Pass the salt, please.”

  The clink and scrape of silverware against the china plates sounded raucous in Julia’s ears. Back at home, Mother had never allowed deadly silences, but had kept the house lively with her histrionics. When Julia stole another quick glance at Rob, she saw him shifting in his chair and fiddling with his fork. His obvious discomfort made Julia feel, perversely, much better.

  To break the tension, Julia asked Rob, “What happened to Payton?”

  Lizzie replaced her cup in its saucer. “I had wondered that myself.”

  He dabbed his lips with his napkin, then grinned. “Shortly after Miss Julia went up to stay with your mother,” he began, with a pointed reference to Julia’s absence from his side, “Mr. Norwood became…um…violently ill. I suspect a surfeit of rich food washed down by too much wine. Then I heard a crash against the door, then silence. Fearing that he might have injured himself, I took the liberty of peeking out. He had merely gone to sleep on the mat.” Rob grinned and a devilish look stole into his eyes.

  “Since Mr. Norwood has been nothing but a thorn in Julia’s life, I took the opportunity of doing something permanent about him.”

  Lizzie adjusted her spectacles on her nose. “And that was?”

  “I hope you do not mind, ma’am, but I helped myself to some of your plain stationery. I sketched out a counterfeit escape map and a list of so-called ‘safe houses’. Then I stuffed them into his shoe.”

  Lizzie chuckled.

  “Naturally, I hoped that the night watch would find him, which they did soon after that. When they discovered the interesting evidence sticking out of Norwood’s shoe,
they immediately decided to take him to the provost marshal’s office. They never bothered knocking on your door. After they left, I went back to my own bed—with Stu,” he added quickly.

  Lizzie’s eyes sparkled. “Once the breakout has been discovered, I suspect that dear Mr. Norwood will soon find himself a resident of Castle Thunder for a while,” she observed, naming Richmond’s infamous lockup for political and civilian prisoners. “How very clever of you, Major!”

  Just then, the bells of Saint Paul’s pealed an alarm. The remaining few other churches, which had not yet donated their bells to the cannon foundry, took up the call. Firehouses added to the noise. Julia clenched her napkin in her lap. “What is it? Are the Yankees attacking the city?”

  Lizzie spread more jam on her muffin. “In the dead of winter? Of course not!” She smiled at Rob. “I expect that Colonel Thomas Turner has discovered that some of his guests are missing. This means we will have to act quickly.”

  Gasping, Julia glanced at Rob. “Will the authorities come here?”

  Lizzie munched her bread, swallowed then replied. “Of course. I am always on the top of their suspect list—but it will take General Winder some time to organize the dragoons and the city guard before they come round to visit. Captain Cramer will be perfectly safe in his hideaway over the portico. It’s you, Major, who is in the greater danger.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lizzie handed Rob a wrinkled broadside. “One of your Pinkerton agents gave me that while I was at the farm. He said that copies had been circulated throughout all the Union lines in Virginia and the Carolinas.” She turned to Julia. “I fear your major is a marked man.”

  Disbelief jolted Rob as he read a detailed description of himself under the inch-high heading: “Traitor!” “Shoot on sight—shoot to kill—$5,000 reward in gold.” The black newsprint virtually dripped poison. He swore softly when he saw that Julia was also named and described, and grimaced when he read Stanton’s signature. Claypole had done a good job to save his skin. Rob would be shot down by his own side before he even reached Williamsburg. His anger choked his breath.