Beloved Enemy (8 page)

Julia gasped at his harshness. “Papa, you have always been a fair man, ready to listen to both sides of the story whenever Carolyn was in trouble. Is this fair—to treat me in this way without any mitigating points in my favor?”

He passed his hand over his eyes as if the sight of her was too painful for him. “What else can I do, Julia? Your impetuous action has left me with very little choice. Your mother is right. You should have been married a year ago. The duties of a wife and mother curb wild impulses.”

Julia rose to her feet. “Papa, all I did was attend a party for a few hours. I wore a mask and behaved myself. Is
that such a crime? I did not steal their silverware, nor did I cause a ruckus. I did not slander the Winsteads, though Melinda has no qualms about slandering me. I was not disrespectful to a single soul.

“Papa, I am loyal to the Confederacy. I long for Virginia to be free from the grip of the Yankees, but more than anything else I long for peace. I am sick of being walled up inside this house, when I know that others my age are going to balls and picnics and teas and to…to the theater! Papa, do you realize that I have never seen a play? How long will it be before I can live a normal life again? Will I never have the same pleasures that Mother had when she was young? I think not. I will be too old by the time this war ends.”

Dr. Chandler's anger left his eyes, though not from the set of his shoulders. “War asks us all to make sacrifices, Julia. For the loss of your youthful times, I am sorry. For the death of your young beau, I grieve. But no matter how weary we become of the privations that we must bear, we must continue to endure for the love of Virginia and those principles of independence that we hold so dear. For me, it has meant the decline of my medical practice, as well as the loss of many good friends. Your mother has lost the social life that she dotes on, and her health has suffered for it. The sons of many of our friends have already given their life's blood for the sake of the Confederacy. Frank died in the first flush of his manhood. Is it too much to ask you to give up dancing and the theater?”

His words hurt Julia far more than a shout. The reminder of Frank especially wounded her. She clutched the silver locket. How easily she had forgotten the boy who had told her that he loved her. More hot tears welled up in her eyes, and she allowed them to fall freely. “I am so sorry, Papa,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know you are, my dear, but the fact of your disobedience remains. You must be punished, not only for your own sake, but also as an example to Carolyn, lest she take it in her head to run wild in the streets.”

A small flame of resentment flared up in Julia's breast. Why should she alone suffer the blame when it was Carolyn's idea to go in the first place? Because if she hadn't gone, Carolyn would have perhaps gotten herself into worse difficulties. Julia remained silent.

With a sigh, her father touched her elbow. “Come, this unpleasantness will pass. Once you are married to Payton and safe at Belmont, this episode will be nothing but a shadow.”

She would never marry Payton.

Only after she returned to her room did Julia remember her promise to meet Major Montgomery at three o'clock that afternoon. Somehow, she had to send him a message with her regrets, so that he would not think her fickle. Julia did not pause to consider why the Yankee's good opinion meant so much to her.

A
merry tune, expertly whistled, wafted through Colonel Lawrence's half-open office door. Surprised by the levity and the early hour on New Year's morning, he rose from his desk and cast an inquisitive glance into his outer room where his officers toiled to decipher the latest Confederate code and relay the gathered information to the proper Federal command. The colonel lifted his bushy brows with surprise when he saw that the music came from his usually dour major. What was even more surprising was the unaccustomed smile on Montgomery's face.

Lawrence strode out to the antechamber on the pretext of searching for an agent's field report. He paused by the major's desk. “I presume that you enjoyed yourself last night, Montgomery,” he muttered, as he flipped through some unimportant documents that lay near at hand.

The major cocked his head. “Tolerable, sir, most tolerable.” He did not bother to stifle his smile.

Lawrence shot him a sidelong glance. “So I see. What a change! To what do we poor mortals owe the pleasure of your good humor?”

“A woman, sir,” sniggered Lieutenant Johnson before
his cousin could reply. Montgomery frowned at his high-spirited relative.

“Cherchez la femme.”
The colonel nodded with a grin of remembrance of his own past times in petticoat company.

“A lady, sir,” Montgomery corrected the lieutenant.

“And a very pretty one, as I recollect,” Johnson added, ignoring Montgomery's scowl.

Better and better, thought Lawrence. It was high time that the major pulled himself out of the doldrums and started living again. “Indeed?” Lawrence prompted.

Montgomery glanced around the office. Every junior officer, and most of the civilian clerks, had stopped their work to listen. He flushed under his tight collar. “It was nothing, I assure the colonel. While I do admit that Miss Julia Chandler possesses a pleasing countenance, my interest in her company was purely—” He cleared his throat. “Purely official business,” he muttered. “In short, I was feasting with the enemy.”

Lawrence suppressed a grin. “Indeed?” he echoed. “I did not think that a dance or two would be of interest to the War Department, nor that a pretty girl could be considered an enemy. Please explain yourself, Major.”

The colonel enjoyed Montgomery's sudden discomfiture. It proved that the boy was a human being, instead of a well-educated waxwork.

Montgomery swallowed before replying. “Miss Chandler is a Southern sympathizer. I considered it my duty to…um…keep an eye on her in case she…that is…” He coughed to cover his obvious embarrassment. “Our meeting was a chance encounter,” he concluded in a rush. “Nothing more.”

“Chandler,” Lawrence repeated the name to himself, while several of the clerks chuckled aloud. The colonel
had heard that name before, but he couldn't remember where. He turned back to his office. “Very well, Major. I apologize for my interruption of your work. Proceed.” He shut the door behind him.

Lawrence lowered himself onto his cracked black leather chair. Chandler, Chandler, where had he heard that name? He would have to look it up. The colonel wrinkled his nose as if he had just smelled a foul gutter stench. Spying was a nasty business. Yet the first two years of warfare had demonstrated the necessity for this deplorable form of combat. It was an ironic twist of fate that Lawrence, who hated all forms of lying and cheating, found himself assigned to the War Department's new secret service, Office of Military Intelligence—the brainchild of the Honorable Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War.

His mind roved over the past few months, plucking out the few instances when the subject of feminine spying had arisen. Major Montgomery's new alliance with Julia Chandler could be beneficial. The colonel took out a sheet of his official stationery from his letter holder. He dipped his pen into the ink bottle, then composed a brief note to Pinkerton. Lawrence needed a lot more information about the Chandlers of Alexandria before taking any action.

 

Pulling his woolen muffler tighter around his neck, Rob berated himself for his poor choice of a meeting place. Alexandria's Market Square was an ideal spot for an assignation with a gently-bred lady, but not in the depths of winter. The snow flurry of the previous evening had dusted the gabled rooftops like confectioner's sugar, but the cobbled thoroughfares looked more like dirty molasses. The thermometer had plunged since yesterday. Stamping his feet to keep warm, he scanned the crowds of citizens and soldiers who strolled along King Street. Inside his great
coat pocket, he carried a small box of sweets from one of the Federal City's finest bonbon shops.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a voice directly behind him.

Rob whirled around and stared into the ebony face of a dignified-looking matron, clothed in a gray woolen dress with double skirts, a thick knitted shawl of a vivid orange hue and a white kerchief tied around her head. She carried a willow-work shopping basket that held several small parcels.

He touched the brim of his hat to her with his good hand. “May I be of assistance?” he asked.

The woman gave him an appraising look before she replied, “That depends on whether you are Major Montgomery or not.”

Surprised that this stranger knew his name, Rob nodded. “I am, and you are?”

She pursed her lips. “I've come from Miss Julia Chandler, though why I let her talk me into this fool trip, I don't know.” She shook her head.

Rob swallowed down his growing misgiving. “Is she ill?” he asked. Perhaps she had taken a chill after spending such a long time with him in the wintry garden.

“Oh, she's in fine fettle—too fine, if you ask me. She's managed to displease
both
her parents.”

Rob knotted his brows. Had their meeting last night been discovered? “I trust that she has not suffered for it.”

The woman raised one eyebrow. “That she has, sir. Her father has confined her to the house, and says he won't let her out until she is good and married.”

Anger rose in Rob's breast. Though he barely knew the lady, in his estimation, Julia was a sweet, gentle girl. “What was her crime?”

The woman cocked her head. “Oh, I expect that you know all about that, Major Montgomery, since I think you
were at that Winstead party last night. Miss Julia had no business going to that ball, but I am not surprised that poor child did. Like my mama always said, the best watermelons holler at you from over the neighbor's fence.” She gave him a meaningful look.

Rob tried to sort out exactly what the servant meant. Had their tryst in the garden been discovered? Or was it only Julia's attendance at the ball that had caused her incarceration? “And her sister?” he asked. “Is she locked in, too?”

The woman's face took on a shrewd expression. “Miss Carolyn? Now what do you know about that child?”

Rob realized that he had just stumbled into a patch of quicksand. He chose his answer with care. “I know that Miss Julia has a sister named Carolyn. I only wondered if she, too, shared the same fate.”

A hint of a smile touched the woman's lips. “I can see that you have the gift of a silver tongue, Major, but it won't do you a speck of good now. Miss Carolyn is like a cat. She has nine lives and always lands on her feet. On the other hand, Miss Julia is shut up tighter than a drum, and she'll stay that way until Mr. Payton comes to get her.”

Rob narrowed his eyes. “And who is this Payton fellow?” He had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

The maidservant didn't seem surprised by his question. In fact, she looked as if she had expected it. “Why, he's her cousin from down Richmond way. He's the one her family is fixing to marry Miss Julia.”

Rob suppressed an oath. Payton must be the toad.

“I had no idea that Julia was engaged to be married. She neglected to mention that fact to me—at the ball,” he probed.

“That's because she doesn't know that her mama wrote to Mr. Payton this morning and told him to come get
her. He's a bad mixture—been that way since he was in short pants. Miss Julia would rather hug a skunk than hug him. All my young lady wanted to do was to kick up her heels a bit before she's too old.”

“Why doesn't she just say no, if she doesn't like the man?” he asked, remembering the sudden swiftness of his own broken betrothal to the feckless Lucy.

The woman snorted. “I don't know what folks do up north, Mr. Major, but down here in Virginia, proper young ladies marry the men their fathers pick out for them. But not Miss Julia, she did the picking first time round. But Mr. Franklin Shaffer got himself shot dead. All the good boys have become mighty scarce these days ever since you Yankees started killing them. Mr. Payton may be the scraping at the bottom of the barrel, but at least he's still breathing.”

“I see.” No wonder Julia had seemed so desperate last night!

“In any case, Miss Julia asked me to give you her regrets that she couldn't meet with you this afternoon—though she should be ashamed of herself to go off after a man—especially a Yankee soldier!—without her parents' knowledge. That's what trashy girls do, and my Miss Julia is not one of those, you understand what I'm saying?”

Rob nodded. “Rest assured that I never considered her anything but a fine, respectable young lady.”

He started to give the woman a verbal message in return, but thought better of it. Julia was in enough trouble as it was. For all he knew, this servant might go straight to Julia's father with her tale. Rob delved into his inner breast pocket and pulled out his small memorandum book and pencil. He rarely used it, since writing with his left hand was a chore, especially in public, but he felt compelled to send Julia a safe message in return. He prayed that the
servant couldn't read. Under her interested gaze, he extracted the silver lead pencil from the book's side pocket with his teeth. Flicking his wrist, he opened to a blank page. Ignoring the woman's stare, he placed one foot on a carriage block, balanced the little book on his knee and printed out his short message.

“Does her room overlook the street?” he asked as casually as he could manage. He wanted to be absolutely sure where she was located before he visited the garden again.

She chuckled. “Like my mama always said, a wise fox knows where the yard dog sleeps. The girls' room is in the back of the house.”

“I'll come again by moonlight tonight. Ten o'clock. You know the place,” he wrote. He hoped that Julia could decipher his scrawl. He tore the page from the book, folded it between his fingers, then handed it to the woman.

“Please give this to Miss Julia for me.” He returned the booklet to his pocket. Then he took out his little box of candy. “And give her these from me as well, if you would be so kind.”

She took the box, sniffed the lid and then shot Rob another one of her shrewd looks. “You sure know how to win a woman's heart, Major Montgomery. Judging by the look of you, I expect you've had a lot of practice. Now, you listen to me real good. If you double deal with Miss Julia's heart, you will have to answer to me, Hettie Perkins, you hear?”

She reminded Rob of a ruffled mother hen. He gave her a winning smile. “My ears are good, Hettie Perkins. I will keep your words in mind.”

“See that you do.”

He fished in his trouser pocket and felt a quarter. “Take
this for your pains, ma'am. And commend me to Miss Julia.”

Hettie eyed the silver coin. “You expect to buy my approval of these shenanigans, Mr. Major?”

He admired both her loyalty to her mistress as well as her sagacity. “No, I expect you to buy some gewgaw here at the market that might attract your eye. The day is cold, and I appreciate your time.”

Hettie plucked the quarter from his fingers. “I expect I can find something of interest.” She dropped the coin in the pocket of her apron. “See that you remember what I told you.” With that final warning, Hettie shifted her shopping basket to her other arm, then turned into the square.

Rob watched as she disappeared among the vendors' ramshackle stalls. Only then did he consider what he had just done. Julia was not only a Confederate, but also an engaged woman, though not of her own free will. By all rights, Rob should have nothing more to do with her. The box of caramels made a fitting thank-you gift for a pleasant evening. But Rob didn't want it to end there. He had to see Julia again, even under the difficult circumstances engendered by her parents. She made his heart sing. He not only looked forward to spending another freezing night in the Chandlers' garden; he relished the challenge.

 

Not even rereading the sadly beautiful lines from Shakespeare's
Romeo and Juliet
could keep Julia's attention from straying time and again to the small mantel clock that ticked away the afternoon hours. Bless Hettie for agreeing to meet with Major Montgomery even though he was a Yankee. Now Julia waited with nervous dread for her return. Hettie had promised to be back by 3:30 p.m. It was nearly four o'clock now.

Maybe the major had not kept his appointment; perhaps
he had only toyed with Julia's emotions last night. Maybe he had been unavoidably detained, and Hettie had missed him. Maybe Hettie had not recognized him, despite the detailed description Julia had given her, even mentioning the major's disinclination to use his right hand. Perhaps Hettie had not gone to the market; maybe her kitchen duties had prevented her from leaving the house.

The more Julia stewed over these possibilities, and a dozen others like them, the less interested she was in Shakespeare's star-crossed lovers.

She was acting like a ninny. She shouldn't care a fig for the man. He was a Yankee—and she despised Yankees.

Julia let her book slide to the floor when Hettie opened the bedroom door. She balanced a silver tray that held a pot of tea together with a tea cup and saucer.

Relief flooded Julia. It wasn't because she was dying for a cup of tea. “Did you see Major Montgomery?” she asked in a breathless undertone.