Beloved Enemy (16 page)

He tried to see her through the gate, but his escort allowed him no time. Without waiting for their commanding officer to join them, they took off down the street at a brisk trot away from the river, pulling Rob's horse behind them. When his guard picked up speed on the edge of the city, Rob forced his thoughts away from Julia. Gripping his mount with his knees, he hung on as his escort dashed them through the sleeping farmland. Once incarcerated in Libby Prison, Rob would have ample opportunity to ana
lyze tonight's events. For now, he needed to use every ounce of his strength to stay in the saddle.

 

A heaviness stole over Julia's senses. She could hear the Confederate officer speaking to her father, but his words sounded muffled, as if he talked though a goose-down pillow. The grim expression on Rob's face froze her voice. He believed she betrayed him, that she had arranged for his capture.

She tried to tell him that he was wrong, but no sound came from her throat. Her fingers lost all feeling. Her feet refused to walk in a steady line. Her vision blurred so that Rob's form melted together with those of his captors—blue and gray together. She wanted to stop them so that she could assure Rob of her innocence, but the shock of his capture had dulled her wits. The sudden appearance of the Confederates was not what she had planned.

Payton hung his arm around her neck. She could smell strong brandy on his vile breath. He growled something in her ear, but his words sounded like gibberish. She struggled to free herself.

She had to go to Rob before they took him away.

But instead of running to the garden gate, her legs gave way on her. For the first time in her twenty years, Julia crumpled into a faint.

Payton caught her before her head hit the flagstones. With a grunt, he scooped her into his arms.

“I'll take her inside, Uncle,” he called to her father. “A lady is not used to guns and violence.” He directed this remark to the lieutenant who eyed Julia with more than casual interest. Had Julia kissed him, too? As Payton carried her up the back steps, he rued the necessity that compelled him to marry her. Once they were back at Belmont, he would keep her under lock and key. He would be the
only man she would ever see again. He would make her pay dearly for this night's embarrassment.

When Payton had first spied Julia and the Yankee with their arms around each other, his anger exploded within his brain. She had not looked at him this evening with one-tenth of the interest she had for that varmint. Payton craved to horsewhip them both, then shoot the man and make her watch him die.

Shifting her weight in his arms as he negotiated his way through the pantry, he glanced down at her. Julia's face looked all the more angelic in repose. His gaze lingered on her lips—lips that had kissed the Yankee, but had not yet kissed him, her own fiancé.

“You will rue this night a hundred times over.
That
is my wedding vow to you,” he swore.

He kicked open the door that led from the kitchen into the hall. When he saw his aunt and younger cousin on the staircase, he rearranged his features from hate to concern. This misadventure of Julia's could work in his favor, he realized. Now that she was truly degraded, he could ask his uncle for a much larger sum, as well as Julia's legacy. He needed every penny he could get to pay his creditors, especially since Confederate inflation had sent his debts sky-high. Payton's poor luck in Richmond's gambling dens had already used up his inheritance.

Yes, not only would he make Julia pay for his injured pride, but so would her family. They would settle a fortune on him to get rid of her now.

Payton flashed Clara a wicked smile as he carried Julia up to her bedroom. “No need to worry, Auntie,” he said in a soothing voice. “She's only fainted. We stopped that Yankee before he could ravish her.”

Clara's high-pitched squeal of alarm acted as a healing balm on Payton's punctured honor.

“Y
our parents wish to speak with you in the parlor,” Hettie informed Julia the following morning. The housekeeper's face wore a sympathetic expression. “They've been talking about you since dawn.”

Julia turned away from her window where she had been gazing down at the garden. How could such a peaceful-looking place have been the scene of such cataclysmic events last night? Yet her own plan—to be caught in kissing a Yankee—had worked beautifully, except that she had not been able to warn Rob in time. Her surprise fainting spell may have saved her temporarily from her parents' wrath, but she had to face them now. The dark wakeful hours between Rob's capture and this morning's summons to the parlor had only stiffened Julia's resolve to lead her own life. Though she would probably never see Rob again, especially since he thought she had betrayed him to Mosby's men, she rejoiced that, at least, she didn't have to marry Payton.

She tried to give Hettie a flutter of a smile, but her stomach churned at the thought of the interview to come. “Is Payton with them?”

Hettie wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something
rotten in the back of the larder. “No, he ate a big breakfast, then said he was going for a walk. When a raccoon drinks water, you know he's fixing for a fight,” she added.

“Is that another one of your mother's sayings?”

Hettie nodded solemnly. “And everybody downstairs drank plenty of water this morning at breakfast. Coffee, too.”

The mention of food made Julia's stomach rumble, though she had little appetite—at least, not until after she had faced her parents. She patted her hair in place then walked to the door. “Once more, dear friends, into the breach,” she muttered the opening line of Henry V's speech before the Battle of Agincourt.

Dr. and Mrs. Chandler greeted their elder daughter with severe expressions. Both Julia's parents wore dark clothing, as if in mourning, and their attitudes matched their somber attire. Of course they were angry, as she had expected. She stiffened her shoulders for the verbal blows to come.

“I hope you are satisfied with yourself,” Clara began. Her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Your behavior last night was unforgivable.”

Julia said nothing, but cast a quick look at her father. He refused to return her glance. Julia held her silence until her mother had finished everything she intended to say.

“I cannot imagine what wicked spirit has possessed you this past month, but you will no longer be our concern. Once you are gone from this house, I never want to see nor hear from you again. Your disgrace has pierced me to the heart.”

Julia inwardly flinched. Though she had expected her mother to be angry, nevertheless her finality cut to the quick. When the silence lengthened, Julia cleared her throat. “I am sorry to have caused you so much distress,
Mother, Papa.” She again looked to her father, but he appeared to be made of stone. “It was not my intention to do so.”

Her mother clenched her hands so hard that she shook. “Of course not! You did not give us a second thought, when you threw yourself at that…that man. Vile Yankee! You should count your blessings that Payton is a true Christian gentleman, and far too good for you. It surprises me that he did not reject you on the spot. Instead, that sweet boy insists he loves you and will give you a good home. A week from Saturday, you will be married to dear, kind Payton, and he will take you back to Belmont. It's far, far more than you deserve.”

Julia nearly gagged. Payton didn't love her! She had seen his face when he dumped her on her bed last night and it wasn't full of kindness, but a much more base emotion. Lifting her chin, she stared down at her mother. “I regret to add to your displeasure, but I refuse to marry Payton Norwood.”

A strangled cry rose out of Clara's mouth. For the first time, Julia's father looked at her. His frown deepened.

“Payton is a worthy bridegroom for any girl, Julia,” the doctor said, in a bruised tone dredged up from the pit of his melancholy.

Clara found her voice. “Payton is far too good for you! All the girls in Richmond are just dying to marry him. So handsome, so polite, so intelligent!”

Julia steeled herself for the sake of her future. “Let the Richmond girls keep him, then. But I will never have that false loon for a husband, not on Saturday next, not ever.”

“Ungrateful wretch!” her mother gasped, pulling out her handkerchief.

Before the crocodile tears could commence, Julia hurried ahead, her words tripping over themselves. “I loathe
Payton. Being married to him is not going to make this situation any better, except for Payton. You think he is so good and kind to marry me even though my good name is ruined? He doesn't care a fig for me. What he lusts for is Grandmother's ten thousand dollars that will be mine on my birthday next month. That's why he still insists he wants to marry me. But he'll never have that money! I intend to use my inheritance to open a school for girls. Payton may want to marry me, but I refuse
him.
This is
my
life, Mother, and I will choose to live it as I see fit—not as
you
command.”

“You will die in the gutter like one of those…loose women!” Clara shouted. “That's where you will end up if Payton doesn't take you. No one will want a brazen hussy to teach their daughters. You will starve, do you hear me? Starve, for we have washed our hands of you. See how you like that!”

Though her mother's vindictiveness inflamed Julia's temper, she fought to remain calm. She had never before seen her so overwrought. “Believe me, I have done nothing wrong. But it
will
be a crime if I am forced to marry Payton. He will beat me as he does his slaves and dogs. I refuse to be saddled with a husband I despise, and live out my life in sorrow, merely to give you membership into Richmond's social circle. That's really what you want, isn't it, Mother?”

With the scream of a harpy, Clara launched herself out of her chair. She flew at Julia with her fingers curled into claws. Her husband grabbed her around her waist before she had the chance to touch Julia.

Dr. Chandler shook his head as if he bore an unbearable weight. “Hush, Clara, hush now. You will only do your heart more injury,” he soothed. “There, there, be still
now, and we will get your laudanum for you. You will sleep. It will be good for you. Hush now.”

His wife's eyes bulged, though she calmed in his arms. All the while, she stared at Julia with a silence that unnerved her daughter. Julia took a horrified step backward. Her mother was truly mad!

Her father stroked Clara as if she were a kitten, while he spoke to his daughter. “Julia, you do not understand your position. Your rash actions have taken away your choice in this matter. As your parents, we must do what is right to save you from yourself, if that is necessary. Your infatuation for that…man in the garden has led you astray from all that you have been taught.”

The sudden realization stunned her. “That's true,” she said aloud. “You taught me to hate the Yankees. I was told that they were crass bullies who envied us and who wished to crush us. I have discovered, much to my shock, that not all Northerners are evil. In fact, some can be more civil than Southerners on occasion.”

Her mother went white. Bright red blotches appeared on her cheeks. “Hold your tongue, Julia May!” she shrieked. “You have lost your mind. No matter, that will be Payton's problem, not ours, thank heavens.” She struggled again in the doctor's embrace. “Mark my words, you
will
be married next week. Between now and then, you will be locked in the second bedroom. You are forbidden to join us for meals, nor may you walk in the garden.” She shuddered convulsively at the mention of the place. “You will not speak to any of us again as we have no desire to communicate with you. From this moment on, you are
dead
to the Chandlers. Do you hear what I say? Dead! Dead! You are dead!”

Julia felt as if she had been slapped in the face. Hot tears pricked her eyes, but then she noticed that her mother
watched her as closely as a cat at a rathole. A thin smile of triumph flitted across her mother's face.

She was gloating! She thought she'd defeated her, and that Julia would fall on her knees and beg for forgiveness. Astonished by her mother's downward spiral, Julia blinked back her pain. She turned to her father. “Is this your decision as well, Papa?”

Dr. Chandler closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded. “Our hearts are blistered with sorrow by your behavior, Julia. It is beyond comprehension. You were always such a good girl—until now.”

Julia shot a quick glance at her mother. She noted that Clara remained dry-eyed and triumphant. It was all a game to her—one that she had to win! The realization was an awakening experience that sent Julia reeling.

“Yes, Papa,” Julia replied softly. “I always did everything you asked of me, so that Mother would not have one of her fits.” She looked at Clara, as if seeing her for the first time. “I grew up terrified that it might kill you if I did something that upset your nerves. That's the way you wanted it, isn't it, Mother? All these years, you have ruled our family like a tyrant, using your delicate health as a two-edged sword over our heads.”

“How dare you speak to me like this!” Clara shook her fists. “Oh, Jonah! I had no idea that we had harbored such a viper in the bosom of our family.”

Julia was tempted to point out that her mother was the true viper, but looking at the distress on her father's face, she saw that she had already gone too far.

“I will
not
marry Payton,” Julia reiterated in a monotone. Her energy drained away from her, leaving a heavy feeling of lassitude in its wake. Without waiting to be excused, she turned toward the hall door. All Julia wanted now was to lie down and sleep.

Clara tried to lunge after her, but Jonah held her tighter. “Your insolence is intolerable! I do not care a whit what you want. A week from Saturday at ten in the morning, you will be married to poor, dear Payton at Saint Paul's, even if we have to drag you through the streets of Alexandria behind our carriage to get you there.”

“Now, dear,” her husband soothed in the singsong voice that he used with his cantankerous patients. “She will change her mind once she has had time to consider. You'll see. Let us find your laudanum bottle. Hush, my sweet. Be still as a mouse.”

Julia opened the door to the hall. She would never reconsider. But Lord only knew how she would get out of there.

Hettie hovered outside. The servant hugged the girl in a tight embrace. “A one-eyed mule can't be handled on his blind side,” she murmured in Julia's ear. “Pay your mother no mind now, child. It's the devil in her mind that's done all her talking. You go to bed, and I'll mull you some cherry bounce that will help you sleep.”

Julia wrapped her arms around Hettie's shoulders and rested her head on her ample breast. “Oh, Hettie, what am I going to do?”

Still holding Julia tight against her, Hettie helped her up the stairs. “Bide your time and wait for a better day, Miss Julia, just like I've done all my life. You have yourself a good cry, then sleep some. After that, we'll put our heads together and hatch us a good plan.”

Julia didn't have the strength to argue with her. Sleep was what she craved. Once rested, she could turn her brain to the knotty problem before her.

“Come hell or high water,” she vowed to the housekeeper under her breath, “I will not marry the loathsome Payton.”

Hettie massaged her shoulders. “'Course not, child.”

After drinking Hettie's warm, sweetened brandy, Julia slept for nearly twenty-four hours. The weekend dragged by like an overloaded cart on a rutted road. Clara spent much of the time sedated in her room. Payton disappeared among the inhabitants of Alexandria for hours on end. Jonah occupied his days reading his newspapers, both Unionist and Confederate, while smoking on his pipe. Carolyn kept her sister informed of the family's changes of moods, as well as the news of the day beyond the confines of the Chandlers' front door. Though Julia spent her days examining the problem of her future in a logical manner, no reasonable idea came to mind.

On Monday afternoon, while their mother took another laudanum-induced nap, Carolyn paid one of her clandestine visits to her sister, bringing newspapers and caramels. “You could run away,” she suggested. “Go to Aunt Charlotte in Strasburg.”

Julia shook her head. “I am sure Mother wrote to her the first thing, telling her how wicked I had become. I'd be chased off Aunt Charlotte's front porch with a broomstick just like a pesky raccoon.”

Carolyn nodded. Idly, she turned the page of the latest smuggled copy of the
Richmond Enquirer.
With a small cry, she sat upright on the bed, clutching the newspaper.

“What did you say your Yankee's name was? Montgomery?”

Her eyes closed, Julia massaged her temples. It hurt to remember him. “Major Robert Montgomery. He's from someplace in New York.”

Carolyn whistled through her teeth, a habit she had picked up on her unchaperoned jaunts around Alexandria. “Could it be Rhinebeck?”

Opening her eyes, Julia stared at her sister. “The very place! How did you guess?”

Carolyn folded back the paper. “No guesswork at all. Look down the last column on the right, near the bottom of the page.”

Julia's hand trembled as she took the newspaper. She polished her spectacles on her sleeve before squinting at the tiny, blurred newsprint.

“Among the recent prisoners incarcerated in Libby Prison this week is Major Robert Montgomery of New York's Rhinebeck Legion who was apprehended by Colonel John S. Mosby late on Friday evening. It had been assumed that Montgomery was a highly placed staff officer under the command of Union General Ulysses Grant. Alas, the perfidious Yankee proved to be merely an invalid soldier employed in the Federal Quartermaster Department. He can now spend his new leisure time in contemplation of the tasty victuals that he will no longer enjoy in the Federal City's Willard Hotel.”