The Lady and the Officer (42 page)

Clarisa's head snapped back. “No one shall hang my sister's only daughter, not if I can help it. Speak of this matter to no one. You were foolish not to realize that your actions would come with consequences, but what's done is done.” She dusted off her palms like a schoolmarm after a lesson.

Madeline shifted nervously. “Do you mean you can forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you, but now we must make plans. What if
Colonel Haywood rallies the home guard against you? A scorned man, rejected by the woman he loves, may behave in a less than gentlemanly way.”

“Loves?” asked Madeline, cringing at the word.

“Yes, loves. Elliott admitted his feelings to your uncle on several occasions. He planned to ask for your hand after the war.”

Madeline shrank against the cushions and buried her face in her hands. “It's his prerogative to alert the guards if he chooses. Please don't fret about me. I'm not worthy of your concern.”

Aunt Clarisa wrapped her arm around her. “You lost your parents, your husband, your home, even your favorite horse. No woman should suffer that kind of sorrow. I believe you're repentant and worthy of a second chance—a new beginning up north.”

Madeline returned her embrace. “Colonel Haywood probably won't retaliate, but he insisted we all leave Richmond as soon as possible. I spoke to my uncle about this to no avail.”

“I'm well aware why Elliott gave John his father's horse and carriage. But as I told my husband, this is my home.” Clarisa flourished her hand around the room. “I don't fear if the Yankees take Richmond, not if it means an end to the fighting. Come, Madeline, we'll talk no more of this. I know where Esther hid some ginger root for medicinal purposes. Let's brew a pot of tea to toast your fresh start as an honest woman.”

E
ARLY
A
PRIL
1865

Clarisa paced from one end of the hallway to the other. Even after a sleepless night, she wouldn't be able to get a daytime nap due to the chaos in the streets. The constant movement of soldiers in and out and around Richmond created a din of confusion.

“Please sit down, Mama,” Eugenia called from her position on the stairs. She and Madeline sat on treads halfway up, as though uncertain which direction to go. “I fear you will faint from exhaustion.”

“I'm fine, daughter. Or at least I will be once your father comes home.”

“There have been train whistles throughout the night and all morning,” said Eugenia. “With so many soldiers marching in formation, do you suppose the army is leaving?”

“Of course not. Without General Lee's troops to protect the city, Richmond would soon fall into Yankee hands.”

“Shouldn't we start packing, just in case?” asked Madeline.

Clarisa turned to meet her niece's gaze. “Yes, I suppose the time has come, but only one small trunk each. No more, daughter, or we won't have room in the buggy for the food left in the pantry.”

“What about my
trousseau
?” cried Eugenia.

“You may take your new clothes.”

“And Grandmama's silver and the crystal vases? I must have them for my wedding chest. And what about the linens I've embroidered?” Eugenia sounded near hysteria.

“Fine. I will walk
beside
the carriage so you and Joseph can furnish your new home.” The sharp words were accompanied by a smile. Clarisa loved her daughter, regardless of how shortsighted she was being.

“What about Micah, Esther, and Patsy?” Madeline's question was barely a whisper. “We can't leave them behind. What if the Union artillery shells the city?”

“Of course they can come along if they choose. They can walk next to me. Now go pack. When you're finished, please help Esther in the kitchen.”

Madeline pulled her cousin to her feet. “Come, Genie. You can fill my trunk with your things. I'll have no need for fancy ball gowns once I'm home. All I need is one change of clothes.”

“Thank you, Madeline. I'll never forget this.” Soon the young women's voices trailed off as they reached the upper hallway.

None of us will forget today
, Clarisa thought. As her pacing brought her past the front window again, she spotted a courier heading up the flagstones. Steeling herself for dreadful news, she swept open the heavy oak door.

A sallow-faced teenager doffed his crumpled cap. “Mrs. Duncan? A message for you from President Davis's office, ma'am.” He thrust a thrice-folded sheet into her hand and hastened back down the walk.

Unfolding the sheet, Clarisa tried to decipher her husband's scribble:
We are engaged at Five Forks. General Lee requested all troops posthaste. Richmond is to be evacuated tomorrow. We will leave in the morning at first light. I'll be home soon as I can. Your loving husband, John

Clutching her husband's note to her bodice, Clarisa closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. “He's coming home. We'll leave Richmond together. Thank You, Lord.”

Within several hours, the women and household staff finished packing. Only essentials necessary for survival would be taken, such as cooking pots, warm blankets, and food. Clarisa and Madeline packed small valises to allow Eugenia the extra space. Esther, Micah, and Patsy filled pillowcases with their belongings to string over their backs. That night, everyone ate a hearty supper in the kitchen and went to bed early, except for Clarisa.

She waited up for her husband in the parlor, finally dozing off after midnight. When she awoke, she saw John's lined face looming above her. “I'm so relieved to see you!” she said, pulling him down beside her to hug him with all of her might.

“Take care, dear wife. I have thus far escaped injury.” John hugged her fiercely in return.

“Should I awaken the household?” She buried her teary face against his jacket.

“No, let everyone sleep. We'll leave shortly after dawn.” John drew back the curtain to reveal darkness beyond the window.

“Then you should rest. Come upstairs.”

“If you will indulge me another minute, we need to talk.”

“What has happened?” she asked softly, her gut tightening with anxiety.

“I heard today that the militia arrested a Chesapeake fisherman. Apparently, the man had been passing documents to Yankees up the coastline.”

His grim expression turned her mouth dry. “Go on,” she prodded.

“This sea captain had on his person a letter from our niece addressed to that Union general she went to see. I'm afraid the letter incriminates Madeline.” John reached for Clarisa's hand. “I fear for her, my love. Tempers are short. Everyone in the war department is looking for someone to blame.”

She gripped the back of a chair. “She's my niece, John. I must protect
her at all costs. I won't have her sacrificed for a stupid mistake—one she deeply regrets.”

The lines in her husband's forehead and around his mouth deepened. “There is truth to the allegations?”

She nodded. “Some truth, I'm afraid.”

“Then I made the right decision.”

“What have you done?” Clarisa's knees threatened to buckle beneath her.

John offered a supporting arm. “I sent word to Colonel Haywood in Petersburg. Grant has broken through their lines and General Hill has been killed.” His voice cracked with emotion. “With Union artillery firing on Petersburg, our soldiers are in a westward rout. President Davis has ordered Petersburg evacuated, as well as Richmond. Anyone not wishing to live under the thumb of the federal army must leave. We packed up critical government documents and took them to the station. Invalid soldiers will work through the night destroying documents we don't want to fall into Yankee hands.”

“But what can Colonel Haywood do for Madeline with the army in retreat?” Clarisa lowered her voice to whisper as though reluctant to utter such words aloud.

“Perhaps nothing, but I told him where we'll head tomorrow. If there's anything he can do to help Madeline, I believe he will.” John led her toward the door with a supportive arm. “Now we must rest, my love. Our future is in God's hands.”

The next morning the Duncans awoke to a world gone mad. Civilians loaded down with everything they could carry crowded the streets. No one seemed to know the safest route or where they would go once they were beyond the city. Most headed to the depot, where every available train car had been brought south from Fredericksburg. Doors to the quartermaster and commissary storehouses had been thrown open. The half-starved people of Richmond rushed in and hauled away whole hams, along with sacks of coffee, sugar, and flour—items meant to be rationed for months. If a storekeeper no longer guarded his door, men and women broke in and looted whatever they could carry. Bolts of fabric, piles of dresses, and stacks of hat boxes filled a parade of passing wagons.

The Duncan family and their employees flanked the carriage as John fought to control the skittish horse down Forsythia Lane. Only Patsy and Abigail rode next to him. Clarisa insisted on walking with Eugenia and Madeline for as long as possible.

“Where are we going, Papa?” asked Eugenia, unusually subdued.

“We shall head east toward the naval yard and Rocketts Landing, and then follow New Market Road. Everyone else will head south along the Richmond and Danville rail line. Our boys have been ordered to set fire to the bridges, so other routes will soon be blocked.”

“East? Won't that be where the fighting will commence?” Clarisa couldn't help but ask. “We don't want to blunder onto a battlefield.”

“Rest easy, my love. The bulk of both armies is well south of Richmond, so there'll be no fighting today. Besides, it's not Yankees we need to fear.” Though both of John's hands were occupied with the reins, his sidearm was visible and close by. Micah, armed with a shotgun, followed behind the group, vigilant for approaching threats from the rear.

“Then who?”

“Deserters from either side, profiteers who came south to pick our bones, or those hatchet-wielding trollops—a full assortment of ruffians who would love a horse and carriage to carry their bounty.”

Clarisa shivered, unaccustomed to such bluntness. John normally tried to shield her as much as possible from anything unpleasant. For several hours she plodded along the streets toward one of the bridges across the James River. This would be their best and perhaps only means of escape. Esther and Patsy gathered discarded items along the way from those lightening their loads. Clarisa clung tightly to the tarnished brass rail of the carriage like a frightened child. Only Madeline kept pace without complaint, always within reach of the horse's bridle. When they reached the river, she clambered down the hillside for a bucket of water for the horse, a chore repeated at each stream they crossed.

While the thirsty mare drank, the sudden sound of explosions louder than any clap of thunder froze them in their tracks. Everyone turned back toward Richmond to watch a red glow spread like a stain across the horizon.

“Is that artillery fire?” asked Madeline, staggering against the buggy wheel. “Are the Yankees firing on the city?”

“No, dear niece.” John patted her shoulder. “That is the Confederate Army setting fire to the munitions and tobacco warehouses. The Yankees don't need cannons to take Richmond, not anymore. They know our troops have abandoned the capital.”

Horrified, Clarisa watched flames leap ever higher against the darkening sky. Fire spread from building to building along the riverfront. Thick, billowing smoke filled the air and drifted on the breeze, reaching them within minutes. “Will the whole city burn, including our home?” she asked, choking down the taste of bile.

John shook his head. “I don't know, but we are alive and safe. Climb up here, dear heart. Patsy insists on walking.”

Clarisa did as instructed, grateful for his suggestion. Her flimsy boots hadn't been designed for long treks. For hours the carriage rolled along the rutted turnpike, encountering fewer pedestrians the farther they journeyed.

Finally, John brought the carriage to a stop and set the brake. Handing his wife the reins, he climbed down and said, “Micah, I want you to stay with the carriage and guard the women. Madeline, I would like you to come with me. We need to find a dry place to spend the night.”