The Lady and the Officer (34 page)

Some residue of the rumors regarding her motives obviously remained with her uncle. Who could blame him? And why did Colonel Haywood wish to convince people they were a courting couple? She'd made her feelings known to him on several occasions. The minds of men would forevermore remain a mystery to her.

“Hello, Esther,” she said. “Can I help you with that?” Madeline stood above the cook, who was up to her elbows in rich, dark earth.

“Goodness, Miz Howard, you scared the wits out of me.” Esther peered up only long enough to scowl. “I'm getting these seeds in early. Soil's warm enough, and we need potatoes and carrots we don't have to pay for. The prices they're charging at the market should make those thieves red faced with shame.” She chopped at a clod of clay with the trowel as though it were one of those market vendors.

“I take it Mrs. Duncan decided to replace these flower beds with vegetables too,” Madeline said mildly as she tightened the bonnet ribbons beneath her chin.

“Yes, ma'am. First the rose garden, now the herb patch and cutting beds. Miz Duncan said a body can't eat gladiolas and peonies, plus folks can live without chives and parsley.” Esther carefully pulled a rather long worm from the loam and tossed it into a coffee can.

“Why don't I dig up the row from the other end?” asked Madeline. “Then we could meet in the middle.”

“Kneel down in the dirt in your pretty dress?” Esther's expression questioned her sanity. “No, Miz Howard. If you want to help, read aloud from that book of yours. I like hearing 'bout that little Copperfield boy.”

“I could change my clothes. Back home I planted a big garden and did all the hoeing and weeding myself.” She picked up a spade.

The cook pushed herself to her feet. “This ain't Pennsylvania. What if the neighbors saw you? You barely got yourself invited back to the sewing parties. Miz Duncan would have my hide.” Esther yanked the spade from Madeline's grasp. “Why didn't you go with Miss Eugenia?”

“Because she accompanied Father Michael to a place I have been asked not to return to.” Though the words were painful, Madeline forced a smile.

The news didn't sit well with Esther. “That don't sound right.”

“Aunt Clarisa prefers I not go near Libby Prison, or Chimborazo Hospital, or Uncle John's office, or even the post office. I feel like a prisoner in Richmond.” Madeline regretted the words as soon as she spoke. “Not that I'm ungrateful for having a home, but I do get bored. That's why I hope you'll let me help with chores.” She smiled sweetly at the older woman.

Esther shook her head in defeat and said, “Just this one time you can peel those potatoes in the kitchen sink, but don't let nobody see you, 'specially not that Kathleen. She'll make trouble for me. I want to get these seeds planted and this can full of worms and slugs. Tomorrow Micah's going to the docks and tradin' bait for fish, if there's any fish to be had.”

Madeline felt a thrill of excitement. “May I go with him to the market? It's been so long since I've been there.”

“Why you askin' me permission? There's nothing down there you can
afford, Miz Howard. Best to steer clear of those stalls. Plenty of folks up to no-good near those docks.” Esther thrust her spade into a new section.

“We might have enough money for some fruit or fresh vegetables. I've been known to bargain with the best of them.”

Esther shrugged. “Ain't up to me. If it's all right with Miz Duncan, Micah won't mind the company.”

“Thank you, Esther. I'll check with my aunt this evening. Right now, I'll go tackle those potatoes.” Turning on her heel, Madeline ran toward the house.
A trip to the docks?
It had been ages since she and Eugenia had combed the aisles on market day. Esther was right about everything becoming expensive. Even the deep pockets of the Duncans had their limits. And her small cache of money had been exhausted long ago. But Madeline wasn't interested in pralines or other sweets. With a trip to the river tomorrow, this might be her best chance to help the Union Army.

She checked to see who might have come home while she was in the garden and then peeled the potatoes quickly. Aunt Clarisa was still on her afternoon calls. Her destinations today wouldn't welcome Madeline, so she had happily stayed home. Kathleen was at the home of the neighborhood laundress, and Uncle John was at the Confederate offices.

Mustering her courage, Madeline crept into her uncle's private domain and closed the door behind her. After ten minutes of snooping, the room revealed nothing helpful to the Army of the Potomac. Log books of past requisitions for supplies, munitions, and armaments would be of little use to present campaigns. With the blockade growing more effective each week, little of what was ordered abroad would arrive at Richmond's harbors. Lists of recently brevetted officers wouldn't make much difference unless they also indicated where they would be transferred. Just as she backed away from the organized clutter, her focus landed on something curious. A heavy parchment had been mostly hidden by the desk blotter, yet bold lines and artistic embellishments on one corner caught her eye.

Carefully, Madeline extracted a hand-drawn map of the city of Richmond, detailing the banks of the James River as it snaked its way from the bluffs of Hollywood to Libby Hill down to the Rockets Landing and beyond. Her fingertips ran lightly over the hallowed ground of the cemetery, a mournful yet beautiful place. Memories of her picnic with Colonel
Haywood soon after her arrival returned, bringing a fresh wave of shame and regret. As fond as she was of the colonel, his persistent attentions made her feel guilty whenever she thought of James.

Could the Union commanders make use of such a map? Each approach to the city was marked, every shallow spot in the river notated. Because the James River was tidal, both low water and high water levels had been indicated, along with bridge and roadway accesses. If nothing else, they would know how to impede couriers between the Confederate war department and Rebel officers in the field. Madeline folded the parchment where it had been creased and slipped it under her voluminous skirt. It only took a moment to secure it beneath one of her lacy garters. She would chance a baggy stocking to remove the document from Uncle John's study without being seen. Once in the privacy of her room, she copied over the map onto two sheets of foolscap. Although possessed of none of the creator's artistry, Madeline duplicated the details to the best of her ability.

Throughout dinner, followed by an interminable evening by the fire with the ladies, Madeline waited for her larceny to be discovered, but Uncle John left the house immediately after supper and hadn't returned by the time the ladies retired to bed. She had no recourse but to hide her copy of the map until the morrow, when she hoped she could transfer it into the hands of Captain George of the
Bonnie Bess
.

Nightmares plagued her sleep—guards from Libby Prison appeared at the door to demand her arrest; specters of dead soldiers from the blood-soaked fields of Gettysburg followed her as she attempted to flee pursuers. Madeline awoke with a start, damp with perspiration despite the coolness of the night. She would find no more rest that night, and had little appetite for the grits and cheese Esther set on the table at breakfast.

“Madeline, do plan to accompany us during our calls. We'll be spending the afternoon at the Emersons, and you know Justine is quite fond of you.” Aunt Clarisa could utter little white lies without batting an eyelash.

“Thank you, ma'am. Perhaps the next time I shall.” Madeline smiled graciously at her aunt. “But I already promised Esther I would go with Micah to the market.”

“Whatever for? The family coffers are depleted for the week. We must make do with our pantry and whatever's left in the cellar until your uncle
receives his next pay envelope.” Clarisa daintily sipped her weak chicory coffee.

“Yes, ma'am, but Micah has fishing bait to trade. I'm an accomplished barterer. It's a talent taught by all Pennsylvania mothers. Some merchants may try to take advantage of a former slave, so I thought I could go along to assist the transactions.”

Aunt Clarisa blinked her eyes, speechless. “Bartering? My sister taught you that?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I'm not sure if your uncle would approve. Perhaps next week.” Clarisa reached for a piece of toast, believing the conversation was at an end.

“But Esther has a full can of worms and slugs today. They'll die by next week.”

Her aunt pulled a face in annoyance, but then said, “All right, Madeline. Go if you insist, but let's not discuss the particulars of your bartering when you return.”

“I promise I won't.” Madeline drained her cup and rose from the table, trying not to appear overly eager.
What woman in her right mind would find such an errand exciting?

“You're leaving already?” Aunt Clarisa's forehead furrowed.

“Soon, yes. The early bird catches the—” Madeline shook her head. “Excuse me. I almost broke my promise already.” Brushing a kiss across her aunt's cheek, she dashed upstairs.

From her window she saw Micah talking with Esther near the well pump. The horse, already harnessed to the open carriage, stomped his hooves in the dirt impatiently. Madeline donned her plainest bonnet so as to attract the least amount of attention, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders to counter the cool breeze, and rummaged in the bottom of her trunk. Hidden inside her old boots, now appropriate solely for walking in the garden, she pulled out her reproduction of the James River landings and crossings. She'd already returned the original while Uncle John snored loudly and the rest of the family slumbered.

Suddenly, a frisson of something amiss chilled her blood. Moving next to her drawer of lacy camisoles and delicate chemises, her fingers sought her most prized possessions—her grandmother's cameo broach
and a framed daguerreotype taken on her wedding day to Tobias so many years ago. They were there, and every one of her silk dainties seemed to be in place, yet with growing trepidation Madeline realized exactly what was not—the tintype taken at General Rhodes' ball last month. She hadn't particularly cared for the likeness and thus hadn't selected a better hiding place. The photographer's demand that she smile had left an artificial expression on her face.

Colonel Haywood declared the souvenir a masterpiece of ingenuity and had both copies framed, delivering hers within the week. With no desire to be reminded of her ruse with the kindhearted colonel, she'd tucked the tintype away and not thought of it again…until its absence dulled her earlier exuberance. First James's letter and now this trinket created by a Northern entrepreneur trying to earn a dollar? She hadn't dropped it in the garden or accidentally sent it to the laundress in the pocket of a dress. Someone in this household was obviously her enemy, and Madeline had a fairly good idea who that person might be. Thank goodness her map and codebook were still safe.

At the fishing docks, Micah sold his bait for a fair price. After she had helped secure the best deal, Madeline took a few minutes to slip down to the berth of the
Bonnie Bess
while Micah studied the smoked meats and fresh fruit. Captain George was only too happy to carry her document downriver to the fort, where it could transfer into appropriate hands. He insisted she take several pounds of bass he had caught that morning. With fish for supper for several days, Micah bought root vegetables and a bag of oranges with his proceeds.

She should have been overjoyed at their good fortune, yet a dull sense of dread settled in Madeline's gut, refusing to budge. Somehow the missing tintype would lead to her undoing. She just knew it.

N
INETEEN

 

C
olonel Haywood knocked on the door at the Duncan residence far too early in the morning to expect to be received. However, Micah barely lifted one bushy white eyebrow when he opened the door.

“Good morning, sir.” The butler bowed, welcoming the colonel in, and reached for his hat. “Is Mrs. Howard expecting you? I'm afraid Mr. Duncan has already left for the office. He chose to walk on such a lovely day.”

“No one is expecting me, but I happened upon a stunning bouquet and thought immediately of Mrs. Duncan. Perhaps you can see if she'll receive me at this hour.” From behind his back, Elliott produced a large bunch of flowers he'd cut from a neighborhood garden in the middle of the night. He was lucky he hadn't received a backside full of buckshot for his efforts.

“Did you say Mrs. Duncan, sir, and not Mrs. Howard?”

“You heard correctly, my good man.”

“I'll see if madam is still breakfasting, sir.” Chuckling, Micah marched off with military erectness.

Elliott leaned against the center hall pillar, praying his idea would work. Another minute later, Mrs. Duncan strolled from the dining room with the grace of a queen.

“Colonel Haywood, Micah said you came bearing irises and lilies and asked for me, not my niece.” Her smile erased a dozen years from her face.

“It is the truth, madam.” Bowing, he held out his bribe. “I offer these in hopes you'll invite me in to breakfast.”

“They are lovely, thank you.” Mrs. Duncan accepted the armful and handed them to the maid, who was lurking behind a potted plant. “Put these in water, Kathleen. Then place the vase on the sideboard in the dining room.” To him she said, “Of course, you may join Eugenia and me. Had I known your intentions, I would have requested something heartier than grits with strawberries and melon from Florida. Madeline and Micah performed some kind of magic yesterday and managed to acquire fruit and a basket of fish in exchange for a can of night crawlers.”