The Sapphire Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy Book 2) (43 page)

“I know,” she said, flapping her hand. “If we do it once, we’ll do it again for the next person who needs a different outcome.”

“Exactly.” Jack opened the whitewashed wrought iron gate leading to the mansion’s front door. They ascended the left curve of the double staircase, up to the dwarf portico facing Grace Street. “Are you ready?”

She patted down and smoothed the front of her riding dress, then tucked loose curls back under her hat, wanting to be presentable when she met one of Richmond’s most famous nineteenth-century personalities. “Historical people are challenging, because you might slip up and tell them something they shouldn’t know.”

Jack lifted the doorknocker and struck the ornate plate fitted to the door twice. “I have the same problem with the Booth article. I keep interjecting the future.”

Charlotte glanced into the side windows. “Someone’s coming.” She patted her buttons to be sure all were tightly secured, then tugged on the hem of her jacket. “When will you finish it?”

“Be still. You’re a fidgety butt.”

A servant dressed in splendid livery answered the door.

Jack leaned slightly toward Charlotte and whispered, “To answer your question, I don’t know if I will.”

The servant inquired politely, “How may I help you?”

“We’d like to see Miss Van Lew on a business matter,” Jack said.

They were invited into a massive entryway furnished as elegantly as any grand home in twenty-first century Richmond. A massive cut-glass chandelier hovered over the marble floor. Set in motion by the breeze coming through the door, the crystal teardrops tinkled faintly. Oil paintings lined the walls, stretching back into the heart of the house.

They were shown into a spacious front drawing room. Large open windows were covered with lace curtains blowing gently in a breeze carrying the fragrances of roses and jasmine. Charlotte paced along the room’s perimeter, taking in every detail of the furniture, porcelain vases, and an exquisite classical sofa upholstered in a burgundy… something… with matching silk tufts. She ran her hand over the fabric.
Harrateen, probably
.

Several comfortable wing chairs were scatted about, some with books lying open on their seats. She flipped one of the books over to read the title.
Jane Eyre
. Amused, she returned the book to its original position on the chair. This room was comfortable, luxurious, and well used by the family.

Jack gave her a slightly reproachful look. “You’re bugging me. Sit down and relax.”

Before she could retort, a small, birdlike woman entered the room in a rustle of silk. Charlotte recognized Elizabeth Van Lew from the history books. Dark ringlets dangled around her face and softened her sharp nose, thin lips, and aquiline jaw.

“I’m Miss Van Lew. How may I help you?”

“I’m Charlotte Mallory, and this is my brother, Jack. We have a confidential matter to discuss with you.”

Miss Van Lew waved her hand in a graceful, genteel gesture. “And it shall remain confidential. Please, have a seat.”

Charlotte settled onto a settee. Jack remained standing, slouching elegantly, broad shoulders wedged against the mantle. Miss Van Lew took a seat next to Charlotte, arranging her skirts.

“Our friend Major McCabe,” Charlotte began, “was rounded up a few days ago and incarcerated in Castle Thunder. I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now, although you may know him by a different name. We left Washington immediately to help facilitate his escape.”

Miss Van Lew smiled faintly and shrugged. “An acquaintance sent word I might hear from you, but I’m not sure why you’ve come to me,” she said with a hint of concern.

Jack stroked the bronze statue of a lion perched on top of one of the columns lining the sides of the hearth. Their hostess’s eyes followed his fingers while they familiarized themselves with the figure.

“We know the role you play in the Richmond underground and that you send coded messages to Grant,” Charlotte said. “We also know you keep the cipher in the back of your watch.”

Miss Van Lew’s eyes widened and her hand shook noticeably.

“We don’t have time to prove our allegiance to the Union or to earn your confidence,” Jack said. “We’re on your side. You have nothing to fear from us. We are most assuredly not here to betray you. A lengthy investigation would prove our loyalty, but we need your help immediately. Major McCabe’s associate Mr. Gaylord assured us you would do what you could.”

“The confederacy is doomed,” Charlotte said. “They’ll evacuate the city tomorrow, and Union troops will arrive on Monday.”

Miss Van Lew’s eyes were open and alert. She searched Charlotte’s face, then Jack’s. “How do you know this?”

“The same way we know about the crack in this creature’s head,” Jack said, patting the lion’s head. “We also know it’s been used as a depository for messages, and it regularly gobbles up Confederate secrets.”

Their hostess’s face lost all color.

More gently, Charlotte tried to reassure her by saying, “Your secrets are safe whether you help us or not.”

“The longer the major remains in prison,” Jack said, “the more likely his captors will discover who he is and hang him. He’s an agent for President Lincoln. He was captured last fall, and Charlotte rescued him from Chimborazo.”

“Why was he in Chimborazo?” Miss Van Lew asked.

“He was captured close to the hospital and shot during a scuffle. He was sent there because the Rebels needed him to survive so they could interrogate him. Thanks to my sister, they never got the chance.”

“From what Gaylord told us, Miss Van Lew,” Charlotte added, “Braham’s been back in Richmond for the last few months posing as a professor of philosophy wearing a disguise. I’m not sure I’d even recognize him,” Charlotte said.

“Please, since we are destined to become much better acquainted, call me Elizabeth. And I would recognize the major,” she said on a hastily exhaled breath. “I’ve been to several of his lectures and hosted a dinner on his behalf. He’s brilliant, and very entertaining. He’s using the name Charles Jackson.”

Charlotte smiled discreetly at Braham’s combined use of her name and Jack’s. “He
is
brilliant, but spying is apparently not his forte.”

“Avoiding capture is not his forte,” Jack said. “We haven’t had any news of him in three days. Have you heard about any trials or executions?”

Elizabeth clasped her hands so tightly in her lap her knuckles turned white. “No, and I would have heard.”

Jack moved away from the mantle and parted the lace curtains to study the street. “I know you were under surveillance at one point. Are you still?”

“I don’t think so.”

He dropped the curtain and sat in a chair across from the sofa. “The prisoners will be rounded up tomorrow night and transferred to points south, out of the reach of the oncoming Federal Army. The evacuation of Richmond will provide us with an opportunity to rescue him.”

Elizabeth’s eyes darted from Jack to Charlotte and back again. “Is the government evacuating, too?”

Jack nodded. “Jefferson Davis will catch a late train out of the city.”

Elizabeth clapped her hands. “I’ve waited four years to hear this news. But you said you’ve been traveling for three days. How do you know your information is current?”

Charlotte took a composing breath. “We can’t explain how we know. We can only tell you what will happen during the next forty-eight hours.”

Jack leaned forward in his seat, rested his forearms on his thighs, and clasped his hands. “Three of your associates, Hancock, White and Lohmann, are with Major McCabe in Castle Thunder. Is it possible to get a message to one of them?”

“It will be difficult. They’re in solitary confinement, often referred to as the dungeon.”

“Do you believe the major has been tortured?”

Elizabeth reached out and squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “The prison guards are known for their brutality. Major McCabe was captured at James Duke’s tavern. He was there to assist refugees escaping to Union lines through Fredericksburg. He was tortured to reveal the identities of other members of the underground network. He never broke, although I hear he has suffered.”

Jack’s brow furrowed with worry. “Braham knows he only has to hold on until tomorrow. He’s strong enough to manage it, I believe.”

“He’s not Superman, Jack. And I’m not sure he’s fully recovered from the gunshot.” If Braham needed extensive medical treatment when they found him, her small medical kit wouldn’t be enough. Would he go home with her? Yes. She wouldn’t give him a choice. Then she’d give her brooch to Elliott and ask him to lock both brooches up in a secure location—like Fort Knox, or the basement of the New York Federal Reserve Bank.

“What about the clergy? Can Reverend Moore get into the prison now?” Jack asked.

“Or a doctor?” Charlotte asked.

“A doctor would have the most success, but we don’t have a doctor we can trust.”

Jack skewered Charlotte with a long, cool glare, twitched his shoulders irritably, and then quickly hid his emotions behind a mask of pleasant blandness.

She kept her features composed, choosing not to have a body language battle with her brother, but then reconsidered, turned in her seat and gave Jack a good view of her back. “I rescued Braham from Chimborazo in October by impersonating a Confederate surgeon. This time I don’t need to get him out. I only need to get a message to him. Do you think you could get me inside? I could tell them I’m there to evaluate the injured, or…something.”

Elizabeth tapped the chair arms with white, elegant fingers tipped with neatly trimmed nails. “If the prisoners are going to be evacuated tomorrow then your idea might work. Will they travel by train?”

“There won’t be any available. They’ll have to walk,” Jack said.

Van Lew shook her head, sighing. “With Lohmann, Hancock, and White locked up, all other operatives have had to shoulder extra burdens. It’s why the major was at the tavern. The Confederates believe if they punish every Unionist, we’ll scale down activities out of fear. What they don’t understand is, their activities spur us to take greater risks.”

“Someone betrayed the major last fall,” Charlotte said.

“We believe someone in Washington or Maryland tipped off the authorities about our activities.” Elizabeth went to the doorway and pulled the sliding doors together. “I’m a pragmatic person. And while I’ve patiently listened to your stories and predictions, I don’t know how it’s possible for you to have the information you have unless you’re using a scrying bowl. In which case, I have absolutely no confidence in what you’re telling me.”

Charlotte’s emotions were a turbulent cocktail of worry and fear, and she was having trouble accessing her well-practiced professional calm. If Elizabeth wouldn’t help them, the rescue would be twice as difficult. “What we’re—”

Elizabeth held up her hand. “Please let me finish. I have known Carlton Jackson Mallory my entire life. I’ve attended parties at Mallory Plantation and the Mallorys have attended dinners here. I’ve never heard your names mentioned. I don’t know who you are, but you look enough like Carlton’s wife Kathleen to be her twin sister,” she said to Charlotte. “You could be a distant relative. I don’t believe you’ll betray me. I’m very fond of Major McCabe, and I can see in your eyes, Miss Mallory, you are, too.”

Elizabeth yanked on a tasseled bell pull. “I have an appointment in the city center and may be able to have a plan in place by the time I return. In the meantime, I’ll have rooms prepared for you. I’m sure after your long journey you’d like a bath and breakfast.”

Jack reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a roll of bills, and handed the roll to their hostess. “Thank you for trusting us. This money is for you, and for those people who’d be more receptive to turning a blind eye if they had cash in their hands. If food is available for purchase, you’ll need to stock up on food and supplies. You might soon have a house full of visitors.”

Elizabeth clasped the money to her chest and relief relaxed some of the tightness from her face. “If placed in the proper hands, these funds will help immensely. While you freshen up and rest, I’ll call on a few people who might be able to help.”

“Any news of Braham’s condition would be welcome,” Charlotte said.

Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “With this money, I’ll get more information than I could have without it. Rest now. I’ll be back soon.”

As Charlotte climbed the sweeping staircase of the Van Lew mansion, a premonition told her the next forty-eight hours would be worse than she could possibly imagine. Even with all she and Jack knew about the future, they knew nothing of Major Michael Abraham McCabe’s future. Would he survive? Had he been living on borrowed time since his October rescue? Was she on a fool’s mission? She couldn’t answer her questions, but her heart urged her forward.

When she reached the top landing, Charlotte turned to watch Elizabeth swing a cape around her shoulders, pick up a fruit basket, and quietly leave the house. Charlotte prayed silently, hoping when she returned, she’d bring news…good news…because at the moment, hope was all they had.

51

Richmond, Virginia, March 31, 1865