Blood Moon (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

“Mrs Bartlett, it would be an honour to attend your ball,” Margaret Mallory gushed at her guest with her most amiable smile. “You know me and Elizabeth here, always ready to help the Southern cause – aren’t we, Elizabeth?” Margaret’s eyes bored into Elizabeth’s face. The trusting idiot was close to tears, she thought. She had wept, sniffed, begged, and screamed all morning as the ramifications of yesterday’s visit to the lawyer’s office became clearer. It was too late for Elizabeth to undo what had been done. There was no legal recourse open to her, Margaret thought with satisfaction. But nonetheless, Elizabeth was not happy about her decisions, and Mrs Bartlett’s arrival on the doorstep this morning could not have come at a worse time.

“Why, yes, Mrs Bartlett, I would be very happy to attend your ball and to contribute something towards supplies for our gallant men – although I pray to the Lord that this horrid war ends and that our young men won’t need the care you speak of,” Elizabeth said.

Margaret smiled to herself.
Thank God for Southern etiquette,
she thought. Elizabeth’s pride and social education would not permit her to make a scene or spill her guts in front of strangers. Her mother had trained her well. She was like the Liverpool whores, taught to keep their mouths shut. There was nothing to worry about – nothing at all.

“We all desire this, Mrs Stone, but unfortunately men will be men, and as such, no amount of diplomacy will deter them from their quest for bloodshed and glory. Why, I do believe our army is growing tired of waiting for a real battle to begin.”

“This war is a nasty business,” Margaret said absently. “I think we women should bash Lincoln’s and Davis’s heads together. That might knock some sense into them.”

“Why, I do believe you might be right, Mrs Mallory,” Mrs Bartlett said.

Margaret let out a contented sigh. She sat back in her chair and allowed the conversation to flow between Elizabeth and Mrs Bartlett whilst she looked on, triumphant and immensely satisfied. The past few days had been tense, but her powers of persuasion had worked on Elizabeth, who was like a simple-minded idiot, unable to think for herself.

There would be many more influential people gracing her new house with their presence, she thought as she listened to her guest trundle on about ball gowns and the latest fashions. But when she had fully ingratiated herself into Richmond’s upper class, Elizabeth Stone would disappear forever. Elizabeth had exhausted her these past months. Putting up with the girl every day drained her of humour. Pretending to like her was becoming a real chore, one she couldn’t contemplate for much longer.

Elizabeth was a pawn. In the grand scheme of things, she was not important. She wasn’t the enemy. No, Margaret thought, feeling her heartbeat quicken, her enemy was Jacob Stone. She hated him. She would never get over what he did to her at the farm, for it had been the only time in her life that she’d been scared stiff of a man. Her blood boiled every time she thought about the night he attacked her. Her wig ripped from her head. His rough hands on her skin, smearing her perfectly made-up face. The gun pressed against her forehead and his cruel words telling her she was ugly. That night would haunt her to the grave. Sweet Jesus, she nearly had a flaming heart attack!

Taking Elizabeth’s money and throwing her out on the street would not be sufficient punishment for Jacob Stone, but Elizabeth’s pathetic future would cause him to feel guilt and remorse for the rest of his life; she was betting on that.

“And when are these festivities to take place?” Margaret heard Elizabeth ask Mrs Bartlett.

“One month from today. I have been told that President Jefferson Davis himself will be in attendance. Some of our fine officers from Yorktown are also coming, with an invitation from General Magruder. Why, I do believe this will be Richmond’s most important event in years. I’ve never been so thrilled.”

“A month!” Margaret said, genuinely shocked. “Christ, those Yankees might be roaming round Richmond by then. Can you not make it sooner, just in case we’re invaded?”

“Mrs Mallory! How could you even suggest that the Yankees will get into our capital?” Mrs Bartlett scowled angrily. “Why, it’s a preposterous notion.”

“We are so looking forward to the ball. It is just what we need to lift everyone’s spirits. Isn’t it, Margaret?” Elizabeth said, plainly trying to defuse the situation

“Yes, if we’re all still alive to enjoy it,” Margaret answered.

Mrs Bartlett, one of Richmond’s best-known socialites, spent her days collecting money for her numerous causes from women of high society, such as herself. In each house, she drank tea, ate cakes, and regaled the attributes of her esteemed husband, who held a cabinet position in the Confederate government. The war, not yet fully begun, had been fortuitous, she’d always thought, for it had elevated her husband’s mediocre political career and her standing in the community.

For weeks, she had resisted a visit to this house. She believed there was something not quite right about the Englishwoman, and the Richmond Ladies Society had agreed with her. She tapped her foot now as she watched her hostess order tea from a skinny nigger girl who would never have been good enough for
her
drawing room.

All the Richmond ladies had been tasked with finding out what they could about the mysterious Englishwoman, who had absolutely no class whatsoever. They had, unfortunately, all failed miserably. Mrs Mallory was an enigma. Even her relationship with the reserved and somewhat sullen Mrs Elizabeth Stone was highly suspicious, Mrs Bartlett thought.

The Richmond ladies did not enjoy the inclusion of outsiders into their midst at the best of times, particularly when the stranger had a questionable background. But money was a necessary evil in these uncertain times, Mrs Bartlett told herself, and these two ladies seemed to have plenty of it. 

The nigger girl served tea and cakes from a silver platter. Mrs Bartlett used the pause in what was a stilted conversation to study her two hostesses, who shared this house and a most dubious friendship. 

The rumours surrounding both of the Portsmouth women were rife but Mrs Bartlett had always believed that where there was smoke, there was fire. The gossipers were unanimous in thinking that the house had been purchased by Mrs Stone, who was going through a testing time after her husband, Mr Jacob Stone, had run off with another woman. They had further affirmed that Elizabeth Stone had abandoned Portsmouth, unable to bear the shame it had brought her and her family. Richmond was not ready for a scandal such as this; however, it was ready to accept donations for the cause by any means necessary, and for this reason, she had volunteered under sufferance to present herself here today.

Mrs Bartlett had promised the other ladies that she would have the name of the new owner of this house confirmed by the time she finished her tea. Indeed, she had planned a meeting for this afternoon with the society to impart all that she had found out. She was desperate to hear what Elizabeth Stone had to say about the house, for if it did belong to her, it would dispel another rumour involving Mrs Mallory, who had, according to her sources, taken over the management of Mrs Stone’s financial settlement.

“You have a beautiful house,” Mrs Bartlett said casually, casting her eyes over the spacious drawing room. “When I heard yesterday that it had been purchased, I just had to come and congratulate you,” she said to Elizabeth. 

“Why, thank you, Mrs Bartlett,” Elizabeth said. “I saw no reason to continue renting it when it was for sale. I bought the house, but Margaret thought it would be safer to put her name on the deeds, just in case the Yankees do come here.”

“My dear Mrs Stone, as I said before, I do not believe for a moment that the Yankees will ever get into Richmond,” Mrs Bartlett said. She was shocked at the very suggestion of it being mentioned twice in one day. She was also extremely angry that Mrs Mallory could even utter her assumption of a Confederate defeat. “My husband is quite determined that the Yankees will go running back to Washington and that an agreement acceptable to the South will come shortly after. I also believe that the moment the Yankees see our brave men on the front lines, they will be shocked – yes,
shocked
at the strength and power that faces them. I shouldn’t worry about those Yankees, Mrs Stone …”

Margaret interrupted. “Well, you and your husband can think what you like, but if you ask me, it’s you lot that are going to be shocked when those Northerners turn up. You mark my words: they’ll be taking everything they can get their hands on and calling it their own. Now, what I did for Elizabeth was for her own good cos that enemy of yours won’t take a house that belongs to a foreigner. No, stealing from a British woman would more than likely start an international incident – and Elizabeth here agrees with me. Don’t you, Elizabeth?”

“I think I do,” Elizabeth muttered.

“Of course you do. You’ll have to excuse Elizabeth, Mrs Bartlett. She’s not very bright when it comes to money and politics. It’s just as well she has me to guide her – isn’t that right, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She fiddled with her handkerchief with trembling fingers. Her eyes were downcast, and her unhappiness was evident. Mrs Bartlett looked on with a mixture of dismay and shock. Even she hadn’t imagined this scenario. Mrs Stone was either very naive or simply much too trusting of her older companion, Mrs Mallory. She did not like Mrs Mallory, at all, she decided. Even to suggest that the Yankees would march into Richmond was an affront to all the Southerners. Her lady friends would be most upset, and just as shocked as she, when they learned the facts regarding the purchase of this house. She would go straight to her husband and ask him if Mrs Mallory’s claim was correct; that’s what she would do. International incident, indeed!

“So if I’m asked, who do I say owns this house?” she said, voicing her thoughts.

“I own it, of course,” Elizabeth said indignantly. “Margaret is keeping it safe for me, and when the war is over, the lawyer will sign the deeds over to me. Margaret believes I will make a handsome profit if I decide to sell it after the war ends.”

“Of course you will,” Margaret said merrily. “You’ll have your money back and much more on top of it. My dear departed husband, God bless his soul, always said I had a good head for business. In fact, I can quite honestly say that I was instrumental in his success. We had a mansion, you know. It was the talk of Liverpool, and the parties we held were renowned. People would come from all over the north, if they were lucky enough to get an invitation to one of my balls. We should have a party here. What do you think, Elizabeth?”

“That’s a lovely idea. Oh, do say you’ll come, Mrs Bartlett,” Elizabeth said.

Mrs Bartlett rose from the couch, desperate to leave. She had seen and heard enough. “Why, I most certainly will. I’ll tell the ladies the moment I see them. I’m sure they will be excited at the prospect of a party in your lovely home,” she said, heading towards the hallway. “Elizabeth – may I call you Elizabeth?” she asked at the front door.

Elizabeth nodded. “Of course, Mrs Bartlett.”

“I would like you to come to tea at my house. I’m sure some of my dearest friends would love to meet you. Shall we say three o’clock on Monday?”

“Why, that would be lovely. I look forward to it,” Elizabeth told her.

Mrs Bartlett looked at Margaret and nodded a farewell. That’s all she would get, she thought, getting into her carriage.

She was appalled at what she had witnessed here today. She would go with every word and detail firmly etched in her mind. The Richmond ladies had been right. There was something terribly wrong here. Mrs Mallory was as cunning as a fox and as transparent as a mountain stream. She had clearly manipulated Mrs Stone, an innocent Southern woman, who was one of their own, and it would not be tolerated.

She had met women like Margaret Mallory before. Like the Englishwoman, those she had previously come across were more often than not white trash looking for a moment of power and fame. They never lasted long, for the Richmond ladies always proved too much for these low-class interlopers who dared to assume that they could rise on Richmond’s social ladder.

She would find out all she could about the Mallory woman. She would help Elizabeth Stone. She was convinced she detected fear in the young women’s downtrodden eyes. This was an outrageous situation, and she had never come across anything like it. No, she thought, as the carriage pulled away, Mrs Mallory would not get away with the heinous theft. She and the Richmond ladies would see to that. 

Chapter Eighteen

Mercy did as ordered. She lay still, closed her eyes, and unconsciously bit her bottom lip as Isaac cut and pulled the stitches from her belly. When he had finished, he sat on the chair next to the bed and smiled with satisfaction. “The wound is healing nicely. There’s no redness or swelling. You will have a small scar, but it will fade with time,” he said. “I hope this is the last time I have to treat you for injuries. You have to take better care of yourself, Mercy,” he said worriedly.

“I will, Isaac. I should have learned my lesson when Lina died. I think I wanted to carry on for her sake, but she wouldn’t be happy with me putting my life in danger, doing a job I’m not even very good at – I know that now.

“You mustn’t blame yourself. It takes courage to do what you did. Hell, there are men who wouldn’t want to dirty their hands to save a Negro. They talk about the abolition of slavery, but not many would actually lift a finger to help a slave on the run – not the way you have. I’m sure your friend Lina is very proud of you. You know, the other night I found Nelson outside wiping tears from his face. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that Lina had been killed. I’ve never seen him so distraught. She must have been a great lady.”

“She was, Isaac. I loved her very much – so did Nelson.” Mercy felt her eyes water. She shook her head. “I’m going to weep again. Every time I think about her, I want to cry. I’m such an idiot.”

Isaac laughed at her feeble voice. “No, you’re not an idiot. You’re strong and brave. I have never known a woman like you.”

“Stop being so nice to me,” Mercy said. She wiped her eyes and attempted a smile.

“You deserve to be treated nicely – and you will be from now on – but we shouldn’t be dwelling on the past. It’s time for you to look to the future. I have so many questions, Mercy. Is it wrong for me to want to know where you have been and what your plans are?”

“No, Isaac, you’re not wrong, but to be honest, apart from the tragic death of Lina, my life has been quite settled and I have been reasonably contented. I’ve been in Norfolk, working with the Underground Railroad, since the day of Lina’s funeral. There really hasn’t been much time for anything else but that.”

Isaac nodded and then studied her face thoughtfully. “So about you and Jacob … Have you seen him? Do you … still love him?”

Mercy stared unwaveringly into Isaac’s fervent eyes whilst attempting to maintain a passive expression. “No, I have not seen him. I think about him with fond memories, of course, but the love I felt for him died on the day I left Nelson in Pennsylvania. It was on that day that I knew I couldn’t go back to Jacob. He’s married to Elizabeth, and I suppose I never really forgave him for that. I have moved on with my life.”

Mercy prayed for forgiveness. Isaac was kind and such a gentle soul. He did not deserve deceit, for that was disrespectful and cruel.

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s true; I am. Jacob was my friend, but he would have ruined you. You made the right decision.”

“Yes, I know I did. As you said, it’s time to look to the future.” 

“Well, I don’t know what’s around the corner, but I do know that you, young lady, can have a bath now that your stitches are out. I’m going to leave you for a while. The nurse will be here any minute. She’ll help you bathe and dress, and when she’s done, I’ll come back with coffee.”

“Thank you, Isaac. You’re so kind, as always. When will I be able to take the bandages off my wrist and hand?”

Isaac shook his head. “It’s much too soon for you to even think about that. You had a bad break. I reckon it will be a good month before you can even think about removing the splints and bandages – and don’t you disobey my orders; I know your impatience. And don’t get it wet in the bath,” he said, wagging his finger comically.

“I won’t, Doctor,” she said. “I promise. Hands are very useful tools. I would hate to cause any more damage to them. Thank goodness it’s not the hand I draw my Colt with.”

She laughed. Isaac’s face was a picture. His expression had changed from shock to absolute horror.
He doesn’t know the half of it,
Mercy thought, still smiling. If he knew how many times she had actually drawn her gun, he would be even more astounded, maybe even appalled.

“I do hate lying in bed,” she added. “I would love to go for a walk – may I?”

“I think that’s a fine idea. I don’t see why you can’t have a gentle stroll, but remember: the sling stays on at all times.”

“I promise.”

“You might find the fort a little restrictive. There’s not much to see, but I believe it’s the best place for you to heal. You have Nelson and me to take care of you. Nelson is very happy you’re here, Mercy, and I hate to think of you going back to Norfolk. Cities can be the loneliest of places.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Mercy told him. “I met some nice people. They will be worried about me,” she added honestly. Mercy had been waiting for a conversation like this. This was her chance to persuade Isaac to let her go. With her stitches out and no infection, there was really no reason why she should remain here.

“What if I told you that you didn’t have to leave? Would you be happy about that?”

“I never really thought about it,” Mercy lied.

“I have. I had a long discussion with General Butler. He agreed to let you stay here. I took it upon myself to tell him that you and I are very good friends. I told him you would be a great asset. I hope you don’t mind?”

Mercy tried to hide her disappointment. The last thing she wanted was Isaac thinking she wanted to stay. The past week had been torture, spent wondering if Jacob had written – or worse, had travelled to see her. “I can’t imagine why I would be an asset,” she said honestly.

“Hear me out. I have a proposition for you. I think you will like it,” Isaac said.

Although Mercy nodded, she didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. She had lied to him and to Nelson from the moment she got here. She would have to lie to him again if he came right out and asked her not to leave. “What is it?” she asked him.

“We have Negros here, Mercy, a lot of them. They’re outside the walls but under the fort’s protection. General Butler has declared that all Negro runaways are to be classified as contraband of war, which means that we are under no obligation to send them back to their masters. You didn’t see them when you got here, but there’s a couple of hundred of them in the fort’s grounds.

“We’re building a camp to house them. We won’t turn any Negro away. We will ask some of them to enlist in the army, and others will be urged to take on some manual labour around the fort, but they won’t be seen as slaves. There will be no beatings or forced servitude. We believe they should have something worthwhile to do with their time, for their own sake as much as ours. I thought this news would please you.”

“It does, very much. I did hear that slaves reaching the fort had a good chance of   gaining their freedom. That’s why I joined Norfolk’s Underground Railroad. I’m sure there will be many more trying to get here in the months to come.”

“I agree – and so does the general. He has a grand plan to teach the Negros how to read and write. Jacob always maintained that Negros didn’t have the brains to learn, but I think that given time, any man or woman can be successfully educated. I joined the army to help set this nation of Negros free, and I’m mighty proud to be involved with the general’s venture. I know you feel the same way, and that’s why I suggested to the general that you would be happy for the chance to get involved with our slave issues. Would you like that?”

Mercy hesitated. She should be saying yes. Under any other circumstances, she would be jumping at the opportunity to help. But saying yes would be a dishonest reply. The only thing she wanted to do was run to Jacob in Yorktown. “Will you let me think about it?” she asked.

Isaac nodded, trying desperately to hide his disappointment. His light-heartedness this morning was quickly turning to discontentment. He had tossed and turned in bed every night since Mercy’s arrival at the fort. At times, he was overwhelmed with happiness. He wanted to shout out to the world that he loved her and that she was now free to love him back. She was no longer in love with Jacob. He had wanted to take her in his arms the moment she had said the words. Her heart was whole, not broken. She
was
free to love again – all he needed was time to convince her that he was the man she should be marrying.

Mercy baffled him at times. He had seen her absolute joy when reunited with Nelson. She had wept tears of gladness. She had no one to speak of in Norfolk, yet she gave the impression that she wasn’t entirely happy at the prospect of staying. He loved her to distraction, but at this very moment, he was damned if he understood her.

“I’ll let you enjoy your bath,” he said at length. “Maybe you can give me your answer later this morning.” He stood to leave. There was nothing else to say for the moment. “I’ll come back in a couple of hours …” 

“No, wait. Please, Isaac. Please don’t go. I’m very grateful to you for speaking to the general on my behalf – and I’m overjoyed at the prospect of spending time with you and Nelson – but what I really want is to go back to Norfolk as soon as possible.  People will be worried about me.”

Isaac shook his head. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to help Negros,” he said. “You were so happy to see Nelson and spend time with him. You will break his heart if you leave him again. You said you were happy to see me – I know I am delighted to have you here – and what do you have to go back to? Surely you must see that this was fate. Please tell me this has nothing to do with Jacob Stone.”

“No, of course not!” she protested loudly. “I just told you five minutes ago that he is in the past – a memory, nothing more. The last I heard, he was in the Confederate Army, fighting for a cause I don’t believe in. Jacob and I were not meant for each other – but, Isaac, I don’t belong here. I can do more good helping runaway slaves in Norfolk, where they are most vulnerable. We both agreed that many more would try to get across the water. I would like to assist them in their journeys. Please tell me you understand.”

              Isaac rose from the chair. Nope, he didn’t understand her at all. Ever since his return from Bethel, his first taste of war, he had come to look at life in a very different way. He appreciated his blessings. He had wealth, a loving family, a fine education, and good memories of adventures with Jacob Stone. But he had also taken away from Bethel an insatiable hunger for love. Mercy had come back into his life, and he believed that the Lord’s will had brought her to him. She had not returned to Jacob, and the Lord had answered his prayers on that too. Should she leave, he would be crushed.

“Mercy, if I thought for a moment that you would be happy in Norfolk, I would do everything in my power to help you get back there. But what is there for you but loneliness? You have a home here. We have women in the fort who are of a mind to teach the Negros to cook for us and to nurse our sick. Surely one of these vocations would suit you?”

“Isaac, please don’t pursue this,” she begged him. “I would like you to ask your general if he will give me permission to leave.”

“I will speak to him if your heart is set on this course, but I cannot guarantee that he won’t force you to remain.”

“Are you saying that I might be a prisoner?”

“No, not at all, but you’re asking to go back into enemy territory. He wouldn’t be a general if he didn’t wonder what information might go with you.”

“Ha – so you think I’m a spy?”

“I don’t think that, but he might.”

“God’s truth, Isaac, do I look like a bleedin’ spy?” she said indignantly. “All I’ve seen since I’ve been here is this room. It was too dark to see anything else, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know the first thing about spying.”

Isaac sat down again. He hated to see her angry. Her eyes flashed with defiance and determination. His heart plummeted. It was not going to be easy to convince her to stay. He would speak to Nelson. She would listen to him, but if after their conversation, her heart was still set on leaving, he would talk to General Butler. Hopefully her permission to leave would be denied.