The Spymistress (24 page)

Deliberately, Lizzie and her mother finished their preparations, hanging curtains, laying new matting on the floor, and arranging cut flowers in elegant vases.

“He will come,” they assured one another from time to time. The flowers wilted and were replaced with fresh blooms, and still they waited.

On June 25, General Lee launched his attack, crossing the Chickahominy River to engage Union troops at Oak Grove. Wounded men brought from the battlefield to Richmond reported that the Confederates had inflicted much higher casualties than they had suffered, and that General Lee intended to augment his tactical victory by confronting Union forces at Mechanicsville. Lizzie inhaled sharply when she heard the familiar name; Mechanicsville was a crossroads village about six miles northeast of Richmond, not far from the farm where Mr. Botts lived in exile.

The next morning dawned hot and humid, and all of Richmond buzzed with anticipation for the climactic battle expected to begin at any moment. Eager to witness the momentous clash, hundreds of citizens—some with children in tow, others hauling picnic hampers and opera glasses—ventured out into the heights around the city to behold the spectacle.

Anyone traveling north could disappear into that crowd, thought Lizzie, suddenly inspired. At last, the distraction she had longed for ever since Mr. Botts was paroled had come.

Mother tried to discourage her, and when that failed, she implored Lizzie not to travel alone. “I’ll ask Eliza to accompany me,” she promised. Eliza already had a passport signed by Provost Marshal Godwin, a longtime friend of her father’s, and she could get one quickly for Lizzie too.

“Two women, traveling alone, with war almost on our doorstep?” said Mother, distressed. “Lizzie, I should not have to tell a young lady as intelligent as yourself that the sensible thing to do under these circumstances is to ride
away
from a raging battle, not toward it.”

“I cannot help where Mr. Botts put his farm,” said Lizzie, strangely lighthearted. “We will ask one of Eliza’s cousins to escort us if that will reassure you.”

“Which cousin?”

Lizzie pondered the options as she tied on her bonnet. “Theodore, I suppose. He’s a fine horseman and would likely enjoy a jaunt out to the countryside.”

“Is he the one they call the commodore?”

“Yes.”

“Why is he home instead of serving in the navy?”

“They call him the commodore because he was president of his yacht club at college.” Quickly Lizzie kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be home tonight. Don’t worry, and don’t wait up.”

“You know very well that I shall do both.”

Eliza blanched and rested her head against the doorjamb when Lizzie proposed riding out to see Mr. Botts, but she swallowed hard, nodded, and squeaked out her agreement. With admirable efficiency she acquired a pass for Lizzie, signed by Provost Marshal Godwin and good for thirty days. After making a valiant attempt to dissuade them, Eliza’s cousin Theodore eventually agreed to escort them, but only after they made it clear they intended to go with or without his protection.

By the time they set forth, the hot morning had turned into a blistering afternoon. Lizzie’s heart pounded with excitement as they rode northeast out of the city. The route to the Botts family farm took them along the Mechanicsville Turnpike directly toward the fighting, and as the sounds of distant gunfire grew louder, Lizzie found herself urging her horse toward them ever faster. They passed soldiers watering horses and cavalrymen riding at a flat-out run; Lizzie eagerly looked for Colonel Martinez’s Texas regiment but did not spot them from the road. All was a frenzy of noise and barely constrained chaos, played to the tune of rattling gear and canteens and arms, of the whinnying and splashing of warhorses as they rushed in and out of the watering pond. The smell of dust and gun smoke and horses filled her senses as they galloped along, past the cannons aligned on crop roads and fields, the ambulances preparing for their grisly duty, the long lines of infantry awaiting orders. Somewhere unseen but none too distant, artillery boomed and rifles cracked.

They passed through a thickly wooded region, glancing warily into the shade of the trees as they hurried their horses on, and from a distance Lizzie glimpsed a dilapidated farmhouse slumping dejectedly in the middle of an untended tobacco field. Before they reached it they came to a crossroads, where, arms at the ready, Confederate pickets moved to block their way and ordered them to halt. Breathless and wary, they pulled up a few paces away from the soldiers.

“What’re you folks doing out this way?” demanded a corporal, incredulous. “Turn around and hightail it back to Richmond before you get yourselves shot.”

“We’re on our way to Mechanicsville,” said Lizzie. “We have passes from the provost marshal.”

The corporal gestured. “Let’s see ’em.”

As they took out their papers, a private removed his hat, scratched his head, and spat into the dirt. “What kind of muddleheaded fool brings ladies into the middle of a battle?”

“That’s unkind,” Lizzie protested without thinking. “The truth is,
we
brought
him
.”

“I’m doing my best to see my cousins safely home,” said Theodore. “They were visiting my mother, but when the battle began, they became too frightened to remain in the city any longer.”

Frowning, the corporal squinted dubiously at Lizzie and Eliza. “It’s safer in the city than out here.”

“That’s what I told them,” said Theodore, “but they insisted that we return to the farm immediately, and they said they were resolved to go with or without me. What was a devoted elder cousin to do?”

“You coulda tried locking them in their rooms,” the private drawled, tugging his cap back over his matted brown hair.

“That was my first thought, but my mother wouldn’t allow it. She feared they would climb out the window and create a scandal with the neighbors.”

The private grinned, but the corporal glanced up from inspecting their papers and shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Your passes are in order, but you’d be better off going back to the city until tomorrow.”

“No,” said Eliza, trembling with unfeigned fear. “It must be today.”

“Tell us, corporal,” said Lizzie, leaning forward eagerly. “How goes the fighting?”

His worried expression relaxed a trifle. “It’s going our way so far, Ma’am.”

“We’re whippin’ the federals left, right, and center,” the private declared. “We’ve taken scores of prisoners, maybe hundreds. General Lee’s gonna win the day.”

As they were speaking, the roar of the guns had grown louder, and Eliza anxiously turned her head this way and that, wheeling her horse about for a better view of the surrounding countryside as if she expected an attack to come from all directions at once.

“We don’t have much farther to go,” said Lizzie. “Please, may we press on?”

The corporal hesitated, but then he nodded. “Anywhere’s safer than out in the open, I guess.” He returned their passes and waved them on through.

Exultation surged through Lizzie as they galloped away.

“You didn’t need to make us sound so foolish and flighty,” Eliza admonished Theodore as soon as they were out of earshot.

“All part of the ruse, my dear cousin,” he called back, speeding his mare onward.

Before long the farm came into view, green and verdant and untouched by war, with a lovely white house nestled in a grove of elm and walnut trees and several sturdy outbuildings nearby. Only the distant sounds of battle disturbed the perfect bucolic loveliness of the scene. A young boy of about twelve came running from the stable to tend to their horses, and as they approached the house—hot, breathless, perspiring, and terribly thirsty—Lizzie saw Mr. Botts step out onto the front veranda, fanning himself with a straw hat and regarding them with amazement.

“You braved the gauntlet today,” he declared, meeting them at the bottom of the stairs and shaking their hands heartily. “Whatever possessed you to ride out in this?”

“Do you mean, in this excessive heat?” teased Lizzie, smiling.

“I mean in this excessive danger,” he scolded, but then he smiled. “Come in, come in. Mrs. Botts is preparing refreshments, and after that ride I daresay you need them.”

Shade and a steady breeze through the open windows cooled the house, and after Mrs. Botts alternately welcomed them and admonished them for risking the journey, she served them lemonade, blessedly cold, and sponge cake with blueberry compote, with promises of a hearty dinner later.

Mr. Botts pressed them for all the news from the capital, and they wanted every detail of his sojourn in Castle Godwin, and so they passed the afternoon talking and listening to the roar of the artillery. Sometimes the sudden, violent rattling of the windows or the flash of a bursting shell brought their conversation to an abrupt halt, but after a breath, they plunged back into it, refusing to allow the battle to silence them when so much more remained to be said.

Later, as they dined, the rapid succession of guns seemed to slow, and gradually the din of warfare diminished until it ceased entirely around nine o’clock. Mrs. Botts urged them to spend the night, but they decided to venture out while all was quiet since the fighting would likely resume at dawn.

They bade their hosts farewell, but before they departed, Mr. Botts took Lizzie aside. “I always considered you a woman of rare courage, but in these past few months you have proven it.”

Lizzie smiled fondly. “Most people would call it stubborn foolhardiness rather than courage, but I thank you all the same.”

“Call it what you will, Miss Van Lew, as long as you know that it is the very quality that makes you essential to the Union cause.” He hesitated. “I am in exile, and I come perilously close to breaking the terms of my parole even to speak of this, but in my absence, it would please me to know that you will do what I cannot.”

Lizzie studied him, puzzled. “And what is that, sir?”

“Unify Richmond’s loyalists.”

“Unify—” Lizzie broke off and stared at him, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. I’m no politician. I am not even, strictly speaking, what anyone would consider popular.”

“You are smart, and brave, and witty, and you can think on your feet. You’re not easily intimidated by powerful men, and you have lost none of your youthful charm.”

“Oh, my dear Mr. Botts,” Lizzie gasped through her laughter, “now I know you’re teasing me.”

“Miss Van Lew, listen to me. Richmond will not fall unless loyal Unionists chip away at its defenses from within.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and regarded her levelly. “You said yourself that the spate of arrests gave you the identities of many Union men and even a few women throughout the city. I know you’ve befriended Erastus Ross—his uncle told me it was your idea for him to become clerk of Libby Prison, and what a stroke of genius that was—but there are other loyalists you do not yet know. Are you acquainted with William Rowley?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“He’s a native of New York, but he’s kept a farm on the outskirts of Richmond for several years. During the secession crisis, he impressed me with his loyalty to the United States government. You should know him. Have you ever had occasion to visit McNiven’s Bakery on North Fifth Street?” This time he paused only long enough for Lizzie to shake her head. “You must make a point of it. The proprietor is a red-haired Scotsman with British papers, which, coupled with his accent, somehow renders him above suspicion though he’s as fierce a Unionist as any you’ll find. You’ll like him, and I daresay you’ll enjoy the specialities—shortbreads, tea cookies, scones, and information.”

A sudden rush of light-headedness swept over her, and she pressed a hand to her heart. In her isolation and loneliness, she had been surrounded by sympathetic friends all the while, never knowing it. “You’re right. We loyalists must come together. We’ll be far more effective if we work in unison.” She looked up at him, uncertain. “But we’ll become more vulnerable too. As we are now, our separate contributions to the Union cause may be modest, but if we’re noticed at all we’re dismissed as harmless, and none of us can betray any other. If we join forces, we may accomplish greater things, but at extreme peril.”

“That’s true,” Mr. Botts replied. “I won’t deny the danger, which is why I cannot ask you to assume the burden of command, but only suggest it. Since it will be your life at stake, only you can decide whether the good you could accomplish justifies the risk.”

“I want to serve the Union, and I’m deeply touched by your confidence in me.” Lizzie placed a hand on his forearm. “I promise to consider very carefully everything you’ve said.”

He closed his hand around hers. “Miss Van Lew, I’ve been to Castle Godwin. I know the horrors awaiting enemies of the Confederacy there. I would not inflict them upon anyone, least of all a loyal friend like you. Please know that I would not encourage you in this if I were not absolutely certain you were up to the task.”

Her heart filled with such warmth and gratitude that she was struck speechless. She managed a smile, squeezed his hand in farewell, and hurried into the yard, where she mounted her horse and rode off into the hushed, expectant twilight with Eliza and Theodore.

It was nearly ten o’clock by the time she reached the Church Hill mansion, where she found the entire household in a state of great excitement, as they had expected her home hours before. When she explained that they had been delayed by the ongoing battle, her mother and the servants interrupted and talked over themselves in their eagerness to describe how close the fighting had come to them too, how the bursting of shells had been distinctly seen from the windows, and how the walls had shaken with every artillery roar.

Lizzie listened and agreed that they had indeed known a harrowing afternoon, but her thoughts were far away, racing on a swift horse past the blighted fields of war-torn Virginia lit by the pale summer moon. She had never known such excitement—the bright rush of life, the hurry of death—and she realized then that valor took many forms, and she did not have to don Union blue and take up arms to help her beloved country.