A Sound Among the Trees (32 page)

“There has been no more ill treatment from the Union soldiers, has there, Susannah?” he asked me. “You seem troubled.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t seem the time to be tranquil.”

“But you haven’t … There hasn’t been any … No soldiers have harmed you?”

I blushed as I realized what he meant. “I have not been harmed.” And he nodded, clearly relieved. And I hung onto that relief like a warm embrace for several seconds
.

“And Eliza?”

As the embrace seemed to slump away, I told him that I did not think Eliza had been harmed in any way either
.

“Do you hear from your lieutenant?” he asked
.

I bristled a bit. “He is not mine. And I have not heard from him.” I stood, ready to clear away the tea things, to go back to the simple quiet of a nameless dawn. He reached out and touched my arm
.

“I know your grandmother wants you to marry this man,” Will said. “But do not marry him to make her happy. Or to escape this house. I would not want to think of you shackled to a man you did not love.”

The tenderness in his voice moved me to wordless silence, Eleanor. Oh, that I would’ve had the audacity to tell him the name of the man I do love. But I didn’t have it. I don’t have it. How could I tell him, knowing the way he looks after Eliza whenever she is near?

“I am fond of you, Susannah. I don’t want to see you hurt. Promise me you will only marry for love?” he continued
.

I promised him. They were gone by noon
.

15 August 1862
Holly Oak, Fredericksburg, Virginia

Dearest Eleanor
,

There are no more Negroes staying in the slaves’ quarters, and the Yankee troops are continuing to thin. Eliza and I moved the hens
and roosters out of the attic and put them in Tessie’s old quarters, which was no small feat. I have the wounds to prove it
.

It took us two days to clean out the attic. And it still smells like chicken manure
.

The vegetable garden is a sight to behold. You would be proud of me. Grandmother has been washing out the preserve jars. We shall have vegetables this winter. And peaches. And chickens
.

1 September 1862
Holly Oak, Fredericksburg, Virginia

My dear Eleanor!

The Yankees are gone! The last of them marched away two days ago. We have survived. The Yankees have moved on to other campaigns, and we have our city back. Confederate troops have arrived on the outskirts of Fredericksburg and some are now patrolling our streets. Some folks wonder where they have been all this time. Others are cheering them
.

Eliza told us not to remove the gold and jewelry we buried in the cellar, however. She said the war is not over
.

And I have heard from Lt. Page. He was most anxious to know that we were all well and unharmed from our long, troublesome summer. I wrote to him and told him we had lost little compared to some and that we were glad to see the Union soldiers make their exit. I didn’t mention who our houseguests had been nor that our slaves’ quarters had been a meeting point for contrabands
.

He is hoping to come see me in October. I did not encourage or discourage his desire to visit. I made a promise and I must keep
it. You cannot break a promise you have made to someone you love
.

4 October 1862
Holly Oak, Fredericksburg, Virginia

Dear Eleanor
,

The canning is at last done, and the chickens have all been transported to the farm for Abner to care for. He is now a foreman to chickens and a handful of sheep. We kept just a couple of laying hens here at the house for eggs in the morning. I am quite happy to see the chickens gone
.

I think the trains are running again. And there is mail. We have received letters from Grandfather. He has not been well. There is no mail going to the North, however, hence my pile of unsent letters to you continues to grow. Some who left Fredericksburg this summer have returned. But not the Lacys. The big house on the other side of the river is dark
.

20 November 1862
Holly Oak, Fredericksburg, Virginia

Dearest Eleanor
,

A brittle wind is blowing today, and with it comes news to chill us. The Union armies are again amassing across the river on the Lacy house hilltop, more of them this time. But there are Confederate troops here in town daily watching them. We have
heard that there are scores of Southern militia settling in behind us on nearby Marye’s Heights. The only thing standing between the two growing armies are the Rappahannock—and us. Not a pleasant thought
.

Eliza has been out and about at night again, doing who knows what. I have begged her to please cease her forays into activities not meant for a woman to engage in. Especially with Confederate snipers patrolling the streets. But she will not listen
.

And Tessie is back, Eleanor. She told us she is with child. She came to us sick, numb with cold, and broken in spirit. Mama was the one who found her slumped against the door of her old quarters, which we keep locked because of the chickens
.

Mama brought her in, took her to Cook’s room, and put her to bed. My mother hasn’t shown any interest in anyone’s affairs since Papa’s death, not even mine. Her exuberant compassion for Tessie has surprised and flummoxed me. While she was preparing dinner for Tessie today, I asked her why Tessie had decided to come back. Mama said Tessie had been hurt in the worst way and had nowhere to go. Something beautiful and precious had been taken from her—the last thing which had been truly hers
.

And then I understood what drove my mother to Tessie’s bedside. Loss
.

Lt. Page was not able to come see me in October, but I did receive another letter from him. He said with the activity around Fredericksburg, the quartermaster’s office is supplying Virginian troops via other routes. He thought perhaps after Christmas he would be able to come see me. He wrote that he missed me, that the thought of Yankees again nearby was driving him mad. He said we should leave Holly Oak and come to Richmond and that he and his family would take us in. And he closed by writing that I was the first thing he thought of when he woke and the last thing he thought of when he fell asleep
.

I wrote back that I missed his company as well and that Grandmother would never leave Holly Oak. Neither was a lie
.

We’ve had our first dusting of snow. It fell like tiny pieces of ice. It seems we are in for a long, brutal winter
.

Susannah

9 December 1862
Holly Oak, Fredericksburg, Virginia

My dear Eleanor
,

There are no conversations about the coming Christmas holiday. The only talk is of the amassed Union army on the other side of the Rappahannock. The troops have been there for weeks and have only now begun to move about. It was as if they had moved to the Lacy House and Stafford Heights to stay until spring and had no plans to do anything until then but scrape the hillside bare for their campfires and play cards
.

Eliza is very quiet these days. I am sure she knows there is more to the troops’ recent inactivity than the desire to play cards
.

Lt. Page has written me and again begged us to come to Richmond for our safety. He told me we could marry straightaway at his parents’ church and that my mother and grandmother and aunt could come with me and we could all live at their spacious home in Richmond. He doesn’t like our being in Fredericksburg with two massive armies on either side of us
.

I told my Grandmother that Lt. Page had asked us to come to Richmond to live with his family. I did not tell her he wanted to marry me the moment we arrived
.

She told me for the third time that she will never leave Holly
Oak but that I should certainly consider it. I told her I could not leave my mother. Nor her. Not now. Not while our world is at war. This seemed to please her somewhat. And she let the matter drop. I wrote to Lt. Page that my grandmother and mother are not willing to leave Holly Oak and that I could not leave them
.

Tessie has begun taking care of the cooking and cleaning, but Eliza told her she will never again sleep in the slaves’ quarters and that she would be paid a fair wage for her services from now on. She also told her that she and her unborn child would always have a home at Holly Oak if they wanted it, but that she was free to leave if she wanted that instead. Grandmother was strangely absent from that conversation. Tessie thanked her, saying that she was grateful, but I think she is sad to have had to come back to us. I doubt she ever made it to North Carolina to find her parents
.