Beloved Enemy Page 25

  Julia’s eyes reflected her bewilderment. “What is it?” she asked in a frightened voice.

  Wordlessly, he handed her the sheet. She moaned when she read it. Rob floundered in a whirlwind of anger and confusion. He had the sensation that the walls of the dining room were closing in on him. His single overriding thought was immediate escape—but where? And what about Julia? The shock had drained the blood from her face.

  She raised her head. “How?” she silently mouthed.

  Rob gripped the silver knife in his good hand. “Claypole,” he growled, wishing he could impale the turncoat. “He’s a double agent,” he explained to Lizzie. “We saw each other in Libby when he visited, disguised as a Confederate general. Since he knows I will denounce him the minute I return to Washington, he has taken evasive action.”

  Lizzie regarded him with a steely look. “You realize that you cannot return now, don’t you, Rob? With that high a reward, you are a target too good to ignore.” She pushed aside her breakfast dishes and placed her elbows on the table. “So the question is, where will you go?”

  Rob shook his head slowly. If he stayed in Richmond, he was bound to be recaptured and sent back to Libby. There he would rot until the end of the war, or die of fever and malnutrition. No one in the Office of Military Intelligence would lift a finger to save him now. If he took to the road and headed for New York, how far could he get before someone killed him for the five thousand dollars in gold? Even if he were captured alive, how could he defend himself at his court marshal when the formidable Secretary of War wanted his head on a silver platter?

  “You will have to go abroad,” said Lizzie. “When the war is over, perhaps cooler heads will listen to reason and it will be safe for you to return.”

  He gazed across the damask-covered table at the most wonderful woman he had ever known. “Julia?” he asked. “What do you want to do?”

  “She can remain here with me,” Lizzie snapped, watching his reaction closely. “After all, she’s not wanted for treason. It’s a question of loyalties,” she continued. “Now comes the truth of it. Where do yours lie, Major? Julia?”

  Julia stretched her hand out to him. “It breaks my heart to say this, but I will stay here. It’s better for Rob that way. They are looking for two of us and he can move faster without me.” Though her bearing was stiff and proud, a glazed look of despair spread across her face.

  His soul wrenched in two. “I want to keep you out of danger,” he explained in a voice hoarse with emotion he could not name. He laid his hand over hers and stared deeply into those fathomless pools of green.

  A little sob escaped Julia’s throat. The sound tore at him. How could he abandon her in Richmond? Turn away from the person who had taught him to live again?

  “Humph,” Lizzie snorted, looking from one to the other. “It’s plain to me that both of you are afraid to say what you really want. Well, my dears, there is no time for sweet speeches and shilly-shallying. It is this simple: if you separate now, you will probably never see each other again. Before this madness is over, it is likely that one of you will die.”

  Julia stared at her, openmouthed. Closing his eyes, Rob nodded. He understood exactly what Miss Lizzie meant. He was a live target.

  “Harsh words, but that is the way of war,” Lizzie continued. “So, make up your minds now, then don’t look back. Rob must be at the depot by noon, before Winder’s men pay me a call.”

  Rob shot her a quizzical look. “What depot? I can’t stay here, I can’t go south and I can’t go back. How do you propose I leave the country?”

  Lizzie’s eyes sparkled as if she found perverse pleasure in their predicament. “On a ship bound to the Bahamas, of course—unless you would prefer to walk to Mexico.”

  “A blockade runner!” Julia exclaimed, comprehension igniting her hope. “Oh, Rob, you can do it!” She squeezed his hand.

  “Will you come with me?” Their eyes met and held each other. He gripped her tiny hand in his. “I need you, more than you can possibly know. Please?”

  Lizzie slammed down her hands on the table. “For heaven’s sake, Rob, how can she answer that when she doesn’t know what’s in your heart? Do you love her or not?”

  Julia jumped at the sound, but Rob held steady and never took his eyes from her. “I do, Miss Lizzie,” he replied, speaking directly to Julia. “I love you, Julia Chandler, with every fiber of my being. Will you come with me, even though I’m a Yankee?”

  Julia held him tighter. Her eyes glazed with tears.

  “Well, Julia?” Lizzie rapped on the table with her spoon. “He’s asking. Are you taking?”

  “Now and forever,” she breathed. “I see no enemy here, only the man I love.”

  Rob wanted to shout, to dance around the table, to give everyone in the house a kiss. He started to rise, but Lizzie thumped the table again. “Not now, Major! You will have time enough to bill and coo on the ship. What we must do now is get the two of you ready.”

  Julia jumped up from her chair, knocking it over. “I’ll pack at once!”

  Lizzie held up her hands. “No, I’m afraid you are going to have to travel very lightly—and as a boy.” Ignoring their shocked expressions, she hurried on. “The broadside describes a major in the Federal army, accompanied by a young lady with long auburn hair. Even if we disguised Rob as a Confederate, his lame hand would betray his identity. So we will change who you are. Julia will be a young farmboy—and you, Rob, will be his mother.” She smiled with triumph.

  Rob didn’t know whether to laugh or swear. “Miss Lizzie, how in the hell do you plan to do that? I’m over six feet tall.”

  The “old cat” had a plan that she put into action before either of them found their wits to object. Within the next half hour, Mary had cut a foot off Julia’s beautiful hair, the shimmering tresses lying in pools around her feet. Instead of her pretty green dress and petticoats, Julia now wore a large red flannel man’s shirt stuck into blue wool trousers that had been cut down from a military uniform. Only the suspenders kept Julia’s clothes together. A short gray sack coat—another piece of Confederate uniform without the buttons and piping—a battered brown felt hat and a handful of dirt smudged on her face completed Julia’s transformation. She wore several pairs of wool socks in order to fit into the walking boots.

  Julia studied her new appearance in the mirror, wrinkled her nose and sighed. “Wouldn’t old Melinda Winstead laugh herself into a stitch if she could see me now.” She gingerly touched her shorn hairline.

  Rob snatched a brief kiss before he replied. “I think she would be pea-green, as you Southerners say, since you’re the one having all the fun while she sits at home, bored fit to die.” When Julia cocked her head at him, he explained. “She told me so herself upon our last meeting.”

  Now that he had declared his love for her, Rob wanted nothing more than to hold her close and kiss her over and over. However, Lizzie gave him no time. While Rob shaved close to the skin, the surprising lady pulled out of her clothes chest the most outlandish garb he had ever seen.

  “You’ll be a chinquapin woman,” she explained, shaking out a large pair of buckskin trousers. “I must admit those farmwives dress more practically than we town ladies do. You step into these and this—” She handed him an oversized dress made of faded yellow-and-red calico.

  Rob lifted an eyebrow as he held up the garment against his long body. The hem came down just below his knees. He hoped the buckskins fit. Lizzie tossed him a knitted brown shawl and a dirty white apron. She pronounced his own shoes “good enough.”

  “You can put a few personal odds and ends in this basket, but be sure to keep it covered so your fellow travelers don’t see your razor,” she rattled on. “And shave often!”

  “Wilson will cut you a walking stick you can use to hunch over. Limp a little. Keep your head down and don’t talk. Your New York accent will be a dead giveaway. Let Julia do all your talking for you.” Lizzie shot him a wicked grin. “After all, she is the man
of the family.”

  Rob exploded with indignation when Lizzie handed him a wide-brimmed calico sunbonnet. “You cannot expect me to wear that!”

  Stu, who observed the proceedings, laughed so hard he had to grasp the doorjamb. “Hell’s bells, Rob, you sure look a pretty picture.”

  Rob bared his teeth. “You will never tell a living soul about this.”

  Lizzie put her hands on her hips. “I expect that Captain Cramer will dine out on this story alone for years to come. Don’t argue, Rob, there’s no time.” She consulted her watchpin. “You finish putting yourself together while I get some papers you will need. Come along, Captain. You should know by now that ladies like to dress in private.”

  Stu laughed all the way out the door and down the hall.

  Alone with his new identity, Rob realized exactly how Julia must feel without her long hair. At least, she looked adorable, though he would never dare tell her. But what was she going to think of him?

  He tried on the bonnet and had to admit that it hid his masculine haircut and features well enough. Then he pulled it off. He was not wearing that thing any longer than he had to.

  When Julia saw him come down the stairs, it took every ounce of willpower to keep her face straight. Only the thought of what lay ahead of them sobered her. They were not off to a costume party, but fleeing for their lives—and their future together. Rob had said he loved her, but nothing about marriage. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Just take one day at a time.

  Lizzie met them at the bottom of the staircase with a packet wrapped in a piece of oilskin. “Do not lose this. In it are two documents signed by the British Consul here attesting to the fact that Mrs. Sarah Broadfoot and her son, Sam, are under the protection of Her Royal Majesty’s government.”

  “How did you get them?” Rob asked, examining the papers. “The signature looks real and so does the stamp.”

  “Of course it’s real!” Lizzie huffed. “Mr. Crindland, the consul, is very fond of fried chicken and I make extra sure that he always has fresh chickens to dine on. I never know just when I might need some help from the British. Now pay attention. Here are your travel passes for Wilmington from the provost marshal. General Winder is a delightful old gentleman and has been my guest here on many occasions,” she added.

  Julia stuffed the passes in her shirt pocket. This adventure was really going to happen. Her heart pounded.

  Lizzie’s instructions flowed faster. “A packet of Confederate money—it’s all I can spare so use it wisely. Julia, you have your greenbacks? Good. Finally, a note for the harbormaster at Wilmington. He’ll get you on board the next runner out. You’ll have to pay him extra, of course. After that, everything will be in God’s hands.”

  Julia glanced at Rob. He gave her a smile of encouragement.

  Lizzie stood on tiptoe and kissed Rob on the cheek. “Good luck and take good care of Julia, or I’ll find you later and have your hide.”

  He hugged her. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied in falsetto, though his eyes remained serious.

  When Lizzie turned to her, Julia felt her tears welling up. Putting her arms around the older woman, she whispered, “I can never fully repay you for all your kindness. As soon as I can get my legacy, I’ll send you some money. Thank you so very much for everything.”

  Lizzie hugged her, then gave her a shake. “Keep your money. You are going to need every penny for your new life. You be good and take care of that man. Keep him out of trouble,” she replied briskly.

  After a round of goodbyes with Stu, Mary, Wilson and Christopher, Lizzie announced that it was time to stop the caterwauling and be off.

  Her last-minute instructions flew faster than a hailstorm. “Put on that bonnet right now, Rob. Look old. Julia, rub the dirt around your cheeks. You are a little streaky. You will catch your train at the Richmond and Petersburg depot on Byrd Street.” She pointed out the general direction. “Wilson will follow behind you at a distance to see you safe to the station. Don’t look around for him. Remember, you are from the country and are new to Richmond. Don’t get friendly with strangers.”

  Julia puffed out her cheeks with a couple of deep breaths. The first step out the door would be the hardest. The palms of her hands sweated.

  Lizzie opened the side door. “Stay out of the dragoons’ way. I imagine they are scouring the city now, looking for escaped prisoners. If you see any of your friends, Rob, don’t signal to them. You don’t know them.”

  Still spewing advice and directions, she followed them out as far as the back gate. “You’ve got food in your basket, but don’t gobble it all at once. It has to last, maybe until Nassau. God bless both of you—and Rob, be sure and marry that girl!” She slammed the gate behind them.

  Julia’s cheeks burned. She didn’t dare look at Rob, but her pulse throbbed with pent-up anticipation. She waited for him to say something—to ask her to marry him. They walked for several blocks in heart-stopping silence. Beside her, Rob stared straight ahead and hunched over his walking stick until they arrived at a busy intersection. Then he slipped his hand—his wounded one, sheathed in a black knit fingerless glove—through the crook of her elbow as naturally as an elderly woman would take the arm of a strong boy.

  “Here’s my hand, my little darling,” he crackled in his falsetto, “Help this great fool across the street.” He peeked around the brim of his bonnet. “Will you also take my hand and walk down the aisle with me in a church in Nassau?” he continued in a hoarse whisper. “And will you help me down the road for the rest of our lives?”

  Julia’s heart soared right up to her throat. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Reckon so,” he cackled like an ancient crone.

  Julia touched the brim of her hat with trembling fingers. “Then I would be honored, sir,” she whispered as they turned down Eighth Street toward the depot.

  Rob squeezed her arm. “Good. I look forward to my loving little wife having her dastardly way with me.” He winked.

  Epilogue

  January 1866

  Alexandria, Virginia

  “Papa!” Carolyn dashed up the stairs to her father’s study. Without bothering to knock, she burst into the room. Dr. Chandler looked up from his newspaper. He had aged a great deal since last April when Clara had died of an apoplectic fit following the news of General Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Court House. Carolyn hoped that the letter in her hand would bring him much-needed cheer.

  “It’s from Julia!” She sat down on the footstool at his feet. “She’s in the Bahama Islands! Oh, Papa! She’s not dead—she’s married! And a mother!”

  “Lord have mercy!” Hettie laughed from the doorway.

  A smile tweaked the corners of Jonah’s tired mouth. “It’s really Julia?” he asked, as if he had just awakened from a long nap. “Our Julia?” He had not said her name aloud in a long time. He rubbed his eyes. “Please read it for me, Carolyn. My eyes are a little sore.”

  71 Carolyn grinned at him. “It says, ‘Dear Papa, Mother—’ Oh! Julia doesn’t know.”

  Hettie came into the room and stood near the doctor’s chair. “How could she? Go on, child, read the good news,” she prompted.

  Carolyn nodded. “It says, ‘Please forgive me for not writing to you sooner, but there was little chance of an assured mail delivery to you until now. I have had many adventures since I last saw you. Carolyn would just itch to know of them all.’ Oh! She’s said that just to tease me!”

  Carolyn made a face as if her sister were standing in front of her. Then she continued, “‘As Carolyn knows, I went to Richmond to find Major Montgomery. We left the city in February 1864, and were lucky enough to catch a blockade runner out of Wilmington, North Carolina.’ Great balls of fire!” Carolyn whistled through her teeth.

  Jonah leaned over. “Did you say Julia sailed on a blockade runner? But that was highly dangerous. I had no idea she was so brave.”

  Carolyn nodded. “It’s not fair, Papa! Julia’s had all the fun.” Aft
er a stern look from Hettie, she picked up the narrative. “‘To make a long story short—’ Oh, Julia, I could just spit! You should have told it all, not just dangle it out there like catnip!”

  Hettie smiled. “Maybe paper’s scarce down there. So, what does she say about the islands? Do they really have palm trees there like I’ve seen in Harper’s Magazine?”

  Carolyn ran her finger along the lines to find her place. “‘Rob and I were married on March 13, 1864, in a lovely church in Nassau Town. It’s made out of coral blocks and is shaded by beautiful palm trees.’”

  “There!” Hettie beamed. “I knew it! Palm trees for sure.”

  “Married.” The doctor sat back in his chair. “Married in a proper church, too! Thank the good Lord for that!”

  “I always thought that Major Montgomery was a proper gentleman,” Hettie observed. “Go on, Miss Carolyn.”

  “‘For reasons I will explain later, Rob and I were unable to return immediately to the United States. However, we do plan to come back in the spring!’ Oh, Papa! Julia’s coming home!”

  Jonah looked up to Hettie. “I think a little sherry would be in order for all of us after Carolyn finishes the letter. Go on, my dear.”

  Carolyn could barely sit still. “‘In the meantime, Rob has found employment as a lawyer and business here has been lively. I teach classes at a little school here for the English children. We live in a little pink house on the hillside overlooking the harbor.’ A pink house! How delicious!” Carolyn smacked her lips. “Could you ever imagine such a thing?”

  “And about the baby?” Hettie prompted.

  “Oh, yes!” Carolyn skimmed through the letter. “Ah! ‘Our little girl—’ Oh, there’s another girl in the family! ‘—was born on the 29th of July 1865. She is quite healthy, Papa, so you don’t have to worry on that account. She has her father’s dark hair, but my green eyes. She is just like you, Carolyn, always getting into mischief.’ Good for her!” Carolyn cheered.