Candle in the Darkness (47 page)

Life. A new child. Life was going to go on, to triumph even in the middle of all the suffering and death. At that moment I wanted the war to end more than I ever had before. I wanted Charles to come home to me, safe and alive. I wanted to create a new life that would be his and mine and yet its own.

And I wanted Tessie’s child to be born a free person, free from the fear and uncertainty his parents lived with. I remembered why I was doing this, why I was risking my life to help my nation’s enemies.

“Tell Esther to serve dessert,” I told Tessie.

“You ain’t mad at Josiah and me?”

“No, of course I’m not mad. I’m happy for you.”

But as I hugged her once more she whispered in my ear, “Please don’t tell your daddy.”

“I won’t.” I pulled myself together and walked straight into Daddy’s library where the men were enjoying their cigars. I played the charming hostess again, asking if everyone was enjoying himself, if he needed anything. “We’re serving dessert in a few minutes if you’d like to make your way back to the buffet table,” I said. But mostly I listened to their conversations, committing every scrap of information to memory.

“The Commissary Department has their own problems,” a cabinet minister was saying. “Imagine trying to come up with enough rations to feed some fifty-nine thousand men at Fredericksburg— and that’s not counting the cavalry. During that blasted food riot last week, the looters took slabs of beef right out of our government warehouses.”

I wandered over to another group of men who were talking with my father. “The Federals have us outnumbered two-to-one at Fredericksburg,” an infantry major said. “We’ve got to send Lee some more troops before the Feds attack.”

“I don’t know where reinforcements would come from,” a second officer said. “There are fewer than three thousand on active service here, guarding Richmond . . . General Wise has only about five thousand on the Peninsula . . . Imboden has maybe twenty-five hundred at Staunton. No other reinforcements can be brought to Lee in a reasonable amount of time.”

“What about the men with Longstreet at Suffolk?” Daddy asked. That was where Charles and Jonathan were.

“He has three divisions. Their effective force, all told, is not even fifteen thousand men.”

“I understand that D.H. Hill has been ordered up from North Carolina to reinforce Longstreet. They’re saying he might take their place so Longstreet can reinforce Lee.”

Daddy suddenly noticed me for the first time. “Did you need to speak with me, Caroline?”

“I only wanted to tell you gentlemen that dessert and coffee are going to be served in the dining room shortly.”

“And it’s real coffee, too,” Daddy said, grinning. “I brought it back from South America myself.”

I drifted over to another group and heard Mr. St. John say, “The defenses around Richmond are strongest at Meadow Bridge and Mechanicsville Turnpike.”

“Which artillery units are manning those gun emplacements?” someone asked him.

“There are no guns in position,” he said quietly. “We haven’t enough to spare. The works are intended for field artillery. All we have there at the moment are Quaker guns.”

Jonathan had explained to me what Quaker guns were—huge logs painted black and set up behind breastworks to look like cannon.

“Did I hear you say there was coffee, Caroline?” Mr. St. John asked.

“Yes, in the dining room with dessert,” I said, smiling. “And it’s the real thing.”

I didn’t follow them into the dining room. Instead, I hurried upstairs to my room and wrote down everything that I’d heard.

The next morning I told Esther she deserved a rest after all her hard labor, cooking for all those people. “I’ll go down to the farmers’ market and buy some fish for dinner,” I told her. “Gilbert can drive me. Is there anything else you need while I’m downtown?” I could tell by the long, solemn look she gave me that she knew. All my servants knew what I was doing.

“No, there’s nothing I need. But you be careful down there,” she said. “Some rough people be shopping in that place.”

“Missy knows we praying,” Eli added softly. “She knows.”

Ferguson’s fleshy, red face was easy to spot in the farmers’ market. He stood hunched over a butcher’s chopping block, his apron splattered with fish scales and blood. I watched him raise his cleaver in the air and lop off the head of a large fish, then slit it down its underside with a fillet knife and scoop its entrails into a bucket. He wiped his hands on the bloody towel hanging over his shoulder before taking the customer’s money, then he motioned to the next person in line. My stomach lurched, but whether it was from the stench of fish or my own unease, I couldn’t say. I waited in line with the others, wondering how many of them had information wrapped inside their money.

When my turn came, I pointed to the large rockfish I’d chosen. I watched Ferguson decapitate it, gut it, wrap it, but he paid no more attention to me than he had to anyone else. He wiped his hands on the towel and held one of them out for my money. I passed it to him, my notes from last night’s party folded tightly inside.

This will end it, I thought. The Rebels camped at Fredericks- burg are outnumbered two-to-one. Charles is far to the south in Suffolk. He won’t be involved in this impending battle. This time the war will finally end.

Ferguson stuffed my money in his apron pocket without even glancing at it, just as he’d done with all his other customers. “Who’s next?” he asked.

Please, God,
I silently prayed.
Please tell me I’m doing the right thing
.

The battle we had all expected finally occurred at Chancellorsville during the first few days of May. But the outcome wasn’t at all what I expected. Once again, Lee’s outnumbered forces silenced the Union’s cries of “On to Richmond,” defeating the Yankees and driving them back across the Rappahannock River. The people of Richmond rejoiced. I couldn’t understand what had gone wrong.

I happened to be downtown as the Confederates paraded the captive enemy soldiers through the streets in long lines, and I heard the mocking cheers of those who had come out to watch.

“ ‘On to Richmond,’ eh, boys? . . . Guess you finally got here. . . . What took you so long? . . . Bet you never thought you’d be coming by this route. . . . Hope you enjoy your visit. . . .”

The Confederacy had paid an enormous price, though—more than twelve thousand casualties. Once again, the hospitals filled to overflowing. Among the wounded was one of the South’s bravest and most beloved generals, Stonewall Jackson, accidentally shot by friendly fire. All of Richmond waited anxiously after hearing that the surgeons had amputated his arm, praying fervently for his recovery. But on Sunday, May 10, General Jackson died.

Daddy and I, like everyone else in Richmond, were deeply grieved by the news. As we sat in the library that evening, talking about the cavalry officer’s amazing career, someone knocked at our front door. I heard Gilbert answer it, heard him invite the caller to come inside, but when an unkempt, sinewy backwoodsman appeared in the library doorway, I instinctively drew back. Daddy rose to his feet, about to scold Gilbert for letting such a rough hewn stranger inside. Then the man spoke my name.

“Caroline . . .” The voice was Charles’.

I recognized him then, beneath the rugged exterior, and I leaped up and ran to him. How can I describe the miraculous feeling of Charles’ arms surrounding me again, the glorious sound of his drowsy voice, deep and soothingly smooth?

“Don’t cry, Caroline . . . don’t cry. Listen now. You’ll have us all in tears.”

I would never let him go again but keep him with me always, a part of me. I ran my hands over his hair, his bearded face, his shoulders and chest, making certain he was real and alive, safe and unharmed. I alternated between holding him, looking at him, holding him—wanting to feel the strength and power of his embrace yet wanting to gaze at his beloved features.

I forgot all about my father until I heard him say quietly, “Welcome home, Charles.”

“Thank you, sir.” Charles kept one arm firmly around my waist as he extended his other hand to Daddy. “Please, forgive me. . . .”

“It’s all right, son. I was young once. And her mother was every bit as beautiful as Caroline is.” He cleared his throat, then said, “If I know Esther, she’s going to want to feed you. Have you eaten?”

“No, sir. I came straight from the train station.”

“Then I’ll go and tell her you’re here.”

As soon as the door closed behind Daddy, Charles took my face in his powder-stained hands and kissed me—a year’s worth of longing finally unloosed. Afterward, we clung to each other again.

“Dear God . . . how I’ve missed you, Caroline.”

“I love you so much,” I murmured. “I pray this isn’t a dream . . . or if it is, that I’ll never wake up.”

“You scared me when you first looked at me,” he said. “You didn’t know me—I was a stranger to you. And I thought for one terrible moment that you no longer loved me. It was a horrible feeling.”

“I truly didn’t recognize you.”

“Have I changed that much?”

I caressed his cheek, smiling. “Have you seen a mirror lately? No one could ever tell by looking at you that you’re from one of Richmond’s wealthiest families. I’ve taken care of soldiers from all walks of life in the hospitals, educated men and illiterate men, and there’s no way you can tell the difference between most of them until they speak. They all look like you—somber faces, ragged uniforms, worn-out shoes, overgrown hair and beards.”

And something more, I thought. There was a hardness in Charles’ eyes and in the set of his jaw that hadn’t been there before. I had seen the same deadly determination in Robert’s face, and I knew what had stamped it there—hatred. How had it come to this, I wondered. How had two men who’d never even met learned to hate each other so much?

Beloved Charles. He was the same—yet he was completely changed. All the remnants of his old way of life were gone: his tailored suits, his starched shirts, his clean fingernails. He didn’t seem at all aware that he smelled of woodsmoke and sweat or that he needed a bath. He had a wildness about him after more than a year of living and sleeping in the woods that made it seem as though he had never slept on linen sheets in his life or danced in formal evening attire.

“I may not always recognize you,” I said, “but I’ll never stop loving you.”

Charles looked at me, and the hardened soldier melted away. His love for me shone in his eyes. “May I steal one more kiss from you before your father comes back?” Charles kissed me the second time as if there had never been a first.

I saw more changes in him as I sat beside him at the dining room table, watching him eat the meal Esther had laid before him. I had grown to love his relaxed, languid movements, his smooth, leisurely gestures. But now there was an alertness in his posture, a wariness about him, as if he needed to be constantly attuned to the slightest sound or movement. Even his drowsy voice seemed cold and hard at times, especially when he talked with Daddy about the war.

Charles had traveled to Richmond as an aide to General Longstreet, who had come to attend Stonewall Jackson’s funeral. They would be here for only two days. But at least I could accompany Charles to the funeral.

It was very late when he finally said, “I should go. I haven’t been home yet. My family doesn’t even know I’m here.”

I walked with him to the front door. I could tell by the way he held me, the way the muscles in his arms tensed, that he didn’t want to let me go. “I should have married you before I went to war,” he said hoarsely. “Then we’d be together tonight.”

“I’ll marry you right now, Charles,” I replied. “We’ll find a justice of the peace.”

I saw the longing in his eyes. Then he shook his head no. “It’s pure selfishness on my part,” he said. “I have to think of you. General Jackson leaves behind a young widow and a baby.”

I thought of Tessie, of her joy at feeling Josiah’s child growing inside her. “Mrs. Jackson is probably grateful to have his child,” I said. “At least she’ll always have a part of him. If I were in her place, I would rather be his widow than never know what it was to be his wife. Please . . .”