The Sapphire Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy Book 2) (50 page)

The only outward sign of Jack’s displeasure was an infinitesimal twitch in his upper body. If she hadn’t been so familiar with the nuances of his temperament, she would have missed it. Elizabeth, however, grabbed a white-knuckled hold of the arms of her chair, leaned forward, and seemed to stop breathing.

“I talked to Hancock, White, and Lohmann. They’re weak and undernourished, but not actively bleeding or physically incapacitated.”

Elizabeth breathed with relief. “Thank God.”

“All three wore leg irons, though. I gave them the
be ready
signal, so they’ll be prepared to make a break tonight when we provide the opportunity.”

Elizabeth rolled her bottom lip in between her teeth, a thinking pose. “What of Braham?”

“His torture has been more recent and more severe. The lash has shredded his clothes and skin. Open wounds are festering on his forehead and back. He probably has others. I doubt he’s eaten in days. He’s weak and could barely stand.”

“Which will make it harder for him to get away. Did he recognize you?” Jack asked.

“Yes, but I’m not sure he would have if he hadn’t heard my whistle first. He even made a move to protect me. I wasn’t in danger,” she was quick to add. “The guard was being a jerk.”

A wry smile teased the corners of Jack’s lips. “You probably scared the crap out of him.”

“The guard or Braham?”

“You can be formidable, sis, when you puff up like an angry cat. You probably scared them both.” He waggled his eyebrows like he often did when he teased her. The levity put a dent in the tension.

Elizabeth refilled her sherry and walked to the window to stare out. The din of cannons still rumbled in the distance. “Richmond will descend into anarchy when the Confederate troops abandon the city. What will the night bring before the Union troops arrive?”

Charlotte suspected the question was rhetorical, and not because Elizabeth believed she and Jack knew the future. Although, considering the information they had shared with her, it might appear they had their fingers on the pulse of history.

Elizabeth dropped the curtain, letting it fall gently back into place. “As the army disengages from its trenches and strikes out to join Lee, we will need to create a diversion to give our associates time to escape.”

Charlotte and Jack subtly exchanged glances. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “The situation will create its own diversion. The city council wants all the liquor destroyed, fearing a repetition of what happened in Columbia six weeks ago when the Union troops arrived. Tonight, whiskey barrels will be rolled out into the streets and smashed. The contents will cascade into the gutters and the free-flowing alcohol will cause the collapse of any remaining law and order.”

“You paint a dismal picture of the future, Jack,” Elizabeth said.

“The rabble will rain hell down upon Richmond tonight,” he said.

Elizabeth fiddled with the stem of her sherry glass. “Hell’s been here for four years.”

Jack nodded. “After tonight the city will be forever changed. There’ll be widespread disorder, punctuated by explosions, fires, and pillaging mobs. Your people will have to locate your men, follow close by as they’re marched through the city, and wait for the opportunity to break free.”

“There are four solitary cells with a prisoner in each one: Hancock, White, Lohmann, and Braham. Those men will probably be grouped together during the evacuation. It will make them easier to find—”

“But harder to rescue,” Elizabeth added.

Jack poured another drink. “We need someone trustworthy positioned close to the prison who can notify us as soon as the evacuation begins.”

“I can arrange for someone,” Elizabeth said.

Charlotte tugged on her ear, fingering the Darwin’s Point she’d had since birth. “General Ewell will pull his five thousand soldiers out of Richmond after dark. The streets are already crowded. When the people see the defenders abandon the city, there will be widespread panic.”

“Panic is already here. Folks are tracking the advancement of the Union Army from the church spires,” Elizabeth said. “Neighbors who have shunned me, even calling me a traitor, have started bringing wheelbarrows of silver and jewelry to the door, begging me to hide their treasures. They should be more afraid of looters than the approaching army.”

“General Ewell will systematically burn all the tobacco in the Shockoe warehouse and other buildings to keep it out of enemy hands,” Jack said.

Elizabeth patted perspiration from her forehead with a dainty lace handkerchief. “I’m not surprised. What about the bridges?”

“The warehouses and bridges will be torched,” Jack added. “Toward morning, the wind will pick up.”

Elizabeth searched the face of one Mallory, then the other. “What are you implying?”

Charlotte tried to sound reassuring, but her anxiety over what they faced was clear in her voice. “When fires are deliberately set, they often burn more than the intended structures.” Richmond was Charlotte’s beloved city, too, and it made her stomach clutch to think so many beautiful buildings would be lost to future generations.

“I don’t know where your information comes from or your insight into future events, nor will I ask,” Elizabeth said.

A knock on the front door brought Jack and Charlotte to their feet. They followed Elizabeth out into the entryway. When the door opened they heard brass bands and drum corps playing with unusual vigor—dueling patriotic songs from both sides of the trenches.

Gaylord, along with the father and son Charlotte and Jack had previously met, and two others of Elizabeth’s friends, entered the house.

A friendly smile spread across Gaylord’s blunt features when he saw Jack and Charlotte. “Our people are in place, and ready. We’ll get the major out.”

Jack nodded and extended a welcoming hand to Gaylord. The dim light threw shadows on Jack’s face, emphasizing the strong bones. He looked so much like their father, a man she remembered mostly from family photographs.

Elizabeth gave an intentionally audible sigh. “Good. It won’t be much longer now. There’s food on the table. Come. While we eat, we can work out the logistics of how we’re going to help our men escape.”

Charlotte knew what would take place during the night, but there were additional factors influencing the outcome now; Braham’s existence was the most glaring one. He should never have been here. He should have died in Chimborazo. And what about the parts she and Jack were playing? They should not be in this century. How would the night change because of them? They all ambled into the dining room where, behind closed doors and curtains, they planned the underground’s final mission.

58

Richmond, Virginia, April 1, 1865

E
ight weary people
sat uneasily around Elizabeth’s dining room table, drinking strong coffee and eating chicken soup, bread, and dried apples. With every rifle shot or cannon rumble, Charlotte glanced toward the windows and doors. They were all facing a bleak night, but it would be followed by a sweet victory when the Union Cavalry marched into town.

Elizabeth drew herself up, lifting a glass in a shaky hand. An extraordinary look appeared on her face, something akin to satisfaction, which brightened her eyes. Jack noticed the look, too, and he relaxed his shoulders, and a smiled curled the corners of his mouth. A restless current meandered through the rest of group. Gaylord kept his face steady, but Charlotte could see something going on inside of him—a roiling. He didn’t speak, nor did he need to. He was concerned about Braham and the other men, along with everyone else at the table.

Elizabeth tinged a spoon lightly against the crystal and cleared her throat, getting everyone’s attention. “For four years we have endured martial law, conscription, underfeeding, and horrendous causalities. It will all end in a matter of hours. Please join me now in a toast.”

They all picked up the glasses and stood.

“To the Union,” Elizabeth said.

Everyone responded in a lighthearted yet formal manner. “To the Union.”

The toast signaled a temporary lull in the escalating tension, especially among the men. Charlotte well understood the emptiness of heart she’d sensed in these Unionists; the sense of sleepwalking through life and lying opened-eyed at night, finding no rest and knowing only hopelessness. She had seen it in her patients, in their families, and in herself following the death of her mother. To see these men with light in their eyes and hope for their future allowed a semblance of a smile to ease out. The arrival of the Yankees wouldn’t solve all their problems, but it would stop the fear and the suffering.

Now, with assignments made and planning completed, the men said their good-byes and left to rescue Hancock, White, and Lohmann. Jack and Gaylord were assigned to rescue Braham.

Jack whispered into Charlotte’s ear. “Come with me. I need to talk to you.”

She swept into the drawing room behind him like a turbulent weather front. “I’m going with you. Give me a minute to change into pants. You’ll need another set of eyes when several hundred haggard looking men march down the street. You can’t check them all.”

“Maybe not, but Braham knows I’ll be there.”

“You can’t be sure.” The words came quickly and without thought.

“Yes, I can. Because it’s the underlying message you gave him this afternoon. He’ll be looking for me and Gaylord.”

“He’ll be looking for me, too.”

“No, he won’t, because he’ll be praying you’re out of danger.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath, steadied herself. “I’ll follow you, so you might as well take me.”

He collapsed into a chair by the door and dropped his head back, hissing between his teeth. After a moment, he sat forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “I hate to admit this, but I think Gordon was right. I should have instituted a little more control over your life.”

She tried to suppress the dangerous urge blooming in her chest to throw something at him. “
What
?”

The veins in Jack’s neck were pumped with blood, his hands opening and closing. “I don’t have time for this right now, Charlotte. Don’t be an idiot. You don’t belong out there tonight. You’ve read the books. You know what’s going to happen. Stay home. Stay safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. You put yourself in danger this afternoon. You’ve used your lucky quota for the day. Stay here. Get your medical supplies ready. You might have more than one patient before the night is over. None of us can do what you can do.

Charlotte sighed, reluctantly convinced. “Take a jacket, hat, and boots for Braham so he can slip into the crowd unnoticed, and take these, too.” She gave Jack two pain pills. “The others will have worn off by now.”

Jack pointed to a brown paper-wrapped package on the table next to the whiskey. “Jacket and boots. I’ll give him my hat to wear.”

“I should have known you’d be prepared.”

He stood and placed his hands on her shoulders to give her a little squeeze. “Relax and trust me. I’ll bring your patient back as soon as I can.”

She bit down on the corner of her lip, her eyes fixed on him. “Be careful. Please don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

As they walked to the front door together, she cocked her head and studied the play of shadows over his face. Although his features were set, he was calm and confident. She had to work at not smiling. The siblings were both very competent people, but their fear of losing each other inevitably got in the way of rational thought, and caused unnecessary stress and anxiety.

Charlotte watched from the open door until he was out of sight. If anything happened to him—

Elizabeth came up beside Charlotte and wrapped her arm around her waist, interrupting her thoughts. “Let’s go out onto the terrace. The Confederate infantry is passing through the city.”

Charlotte, Elizabeth, and a few of the servants watched from the terrace as the infantry, followed by a mule-drawn supply train, rumbled over the cobbled streets.

“What will happen now?” one of the young servants asked. “Folks say the Yankees will burn Richmond like they burned Columbia.”

“Any fires tonight won’t be the fault of the Yankees,” Charlotte said.

“What time will the prisons be evacuated?” Elizabeth asked.

Charlotte pulled her lower lip through her teeth, thinking. “Now the troops have left, the prisoners will follow.”

Elizabeth folded her arms, shivering. “I’ve seen enough. I’m going back in. It’s a warm night, but I’m chilled.”

The two women sat in the candlelit parlor. Richmond’s mayor had ordered the gas lighting and gas that fed it be turned off, plummeting the entire city into darkness. Candle flames wavered and flickered, filling the room with dancing shadows. A strange paralysis took hold of Charlotte, partly due to the day’s trauma, and partly because of the night’s promised destruction. Through an open window topped by faded velvet draperies, a warm gust tousled the sheer lace curtains beneath.

The sounds of musket fire and cannon blasts drew nearer, but the shouts right outside the house alarmed her. She hurried over to the window and pulled back a corner of the drapes. Elizabeth joined her. On the lawn, a group of men clustered, shouting. Many of them carried burning torches.