The Topaz Brooch

by Katherine Lowry Logan

  “What else can you see?” Rick asked.

  She stepped aside. “See for yourself.”

  “What do you think?” Mr. Livingston asked.

  “The soldiers are cooking, washing clothes, and cleaning weapons. It’s obvious they aren’t coming today,” Rick said. “If their battalions advanced in the bright sunlight, our cannons would mow them down.”

  “When they come, it’ll be foggy,” Jackson said. “They’ll use the fog for cover to get as close to us as possible without being seen.”

  When Rick moved away, Penny returned to the telescope and focused on two groups of men working at the far end of the Chalmette Plantation. “Those men out there are making fascines to lay in the canal. Looks like they’re building scaling ladders, too.”

  “So General Pakenham plans to fill in the canal and climb our ramparts under heavy fire. Good luck with that,” Rick said.

  Penny instantly thought of Rudder’s Rangers scaling Pointe du Hoc on D-Day and suffering a seventy percent casualty rate. She didn’t know the percentage of British casualties from their failed attempt to take Jackson’s ramparts, but in a short time, the British would have two thousand dead, wounded, or missing soldiers.

  The general returned to the telescope. “Mr. Livingston, send someone to fetch majors Tatum, St. Gemé, and Latour. I want them to see the exact locations of General Pakenham’s new batteries, and bring Lieutenant Crawley, Dominique Youx, and Renato Beluche as well. Tell them to join us at headquarters afterward.”

  When Jackson stepped away from the telescope, Penny looked again. “There are four officers on horseback moving toward Chalmette Plantation. Their red coats stand out in the sunlight and make them such an easy target.”

  “What are they doing?” Rick asked.

  “They’re reining in. Two of the men have dismounted and removed their hats. One man has light-colored or red hair. The other is dark-headed, for what that’s worth. The redheaded man is climbing the tree with a spyglass.”

  She focused the telescope on the climber as the man went up and rested his spyglass on a branch, then moved it from side to side. Although she had never seen the man in person, she’d seen several pictures of him. “General,” she said around a chuckle. “I believe General Pakenham is sitting in a tree spying on you.” She stepped out of the way so Jackson could see for himself.

  Soph was standing nearby, sketching in her journal, and Penny sneaked a peek of the sketch of a man in a tree and Jackson at the window. It was a poignant sketch. If the newspapers got hold of it, the drawing would be embarrassing to Pakenham’s legacy of being a consummate gentleman and eminently dedicated to his post. It would make him a laughingstock. What would Jackson do with it?

  The general looked through the telescope once again, then moved away to stand in front of the window. “I want General Packenham to see me staring back at him. Two Northern Irishmen facing off. What a cheeky bastard. If he comes any closer, send every horseman available.” Jackson headed toward the door. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s return to headquarters.”

  The ride back was a silent affair, with everyone deep in thought. Penny wanted to scream, “We’ll win the day. Don’t worry.” But she couldn’t. She had to let the bloody conflagration play out. The worst part was, it didn’t have to happen. If they’d only been able to communicate with their representatives in Ghent, men wouldn’t have to die tomorrow.

  She looked at Rick, and he must have sensed her eyes on him because he looked at her and smiled. But it was grim, and she couldn’t begin to imagine what was on his mind. Well, maybe she could. She raised her eyebrows, speaking as fluently as she could in eyebrow language. In answer, he reached over and took her hand, his thumb moving back and forth in a barely-there caress, and then he released it, giving her a simple nod.

  Yep, they needed to talk, because speaking “eyebrow” wasn’t going to do the job. But finding time alone would be tricky.

  Giving up on communicating with Rick, for now, she watched Pete and Soph riding alongside each other. Pete continuously scanned their surroundings for danger, while Soph watched the general, probably sketching him in her mind. They were so cute together and very much in love. Penny never planned to vacation in Italy, but after meeting them, that had changed. She’d enjoy visiting their winery and meeting Lukas. She’d pencil in a two-week trip, set aside some money, and maybe next summer she’d be able to go.

  Jackson and his aides-de-camp returned to headquarters, and they all took their seats in the dining room that vibrated with their accumulated tension. Jackson rubbed the back of his neck, indicating to her that his anxiety and stress had concentrated there. It had been years since Penny experienced the battle alertness that saturated the air in the room, and she was surprised the windows didn’t rattle. Sweat dampened the skin between her breasts, under her arms, at the back of her neck, and nerves crawled up her throat.

  Jackson was ready. His original aides-de-camp were prepared. Was she? Was Rick? Pete? Philippe? Remy?

  Suddenly this whole business of staying for the battle reeked of insanity. One of them could get seriously injured, or worse. Instinct was cautioning her to Keep Away. But was that because of what she’d already experienced, or because of what might happen on Chalmette Battlefield?

  The door swung open, and she glanced up. Jean strolled in with Dominique, and they took their seats at the table. Where were the winks and half-grins? Since they looked so severe, the two privateers must be as anxious as the others, even though they knew the outcome.

  Jackson knocked on the table. “I just received a courier with a message from Commodore Patterson. The commodore reports that late yesterday, while standing on the shore opposite Villére Plantation, he saw enemy forces loading cannons on barges. He assumed the west bank position would be their target, and he asked for reinforcements in case the British attacked there.”

  “There’s not enough time for men to reach him, sir,” Livingston said. “You already dispatched four hundred Kentuckians to reinforce him and Brigadier General Morgan.”

  Jackson tugged on the skin beneath his chin. “Nothing he said persuaded me that a major attack would be anywhere but on this side of the river. Besides, I have no men to spare. I sent the Commodore a message that he and Morgan were on their own.”

  Penny squeezed her hands in her lap. The general had no idea of the misstep he was making by not reinforcing the west bank. It wouldn’t affect the outcome, but he would be devastated when the Kentuckians failed to protect Patterson’s battery when the British attacked the position.

  “Are you going to move any troops around tonight?” Mr. Livingston asked. “Or keep them where they are right now?”

  Jackson put his palms on the table and slowly rose to his feet. He approached the map of Chalmette and the Rodriguez Canal pinned to the wall. Using his riding crop as a pointer, he said, “The Seventh Regular Infantry will anchor our right flank with 430 men. Shoulder to shoulder with the 7th will be 740 Louisiana militiamen. The Forty-Fourth Regiment will be next with 240 men and 500 Kentuckians. The largest corps will be 1600 Tennesseans at our left flank.”

  “What about the Mississippi dragoons?” Mr. Livingston asked.

  “They will remain to the rear with a mix of others completing the left bank army. Our collection of Americans will come together to make military history.” He paused and searched the faces of his aides. “Mr. Lafitte, update us on the cannon placement in the new redoubt.”

  Jean approached the map. “All but two cannons have been embedded in the earthworks. A new redoubt with two 6-pounders sits forward of the main line, here,” he pointed. “The gunners will have a commanding view of both the levee road and the front of the earthworks. We’ve arranged the other eleven guns—a mix of 6-, 12- 18-, and 24-pounders, as well as the big 32-pounder, at intervals along the mainline.” He pointed at each location. “Here, here, here… Navy gunners, Louisiana militiamen, and the Baratarians are manning those guns.”

  “Is there an
ything you need that you don’t have?” the general asked.

  “A few more 32-pounders, sir, but we’ll get the job done with what we have,” Jean said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lafitte. Mr. O’Grady, a report on the ramparts,” the general said.

  “The work is as varied as your fighting force, sir. At the base, the earthen wall ranges from fourteen to twenty feet in thickness. In some places, the height reaches five feet, in others perhaps twice that. At its base is a four-foot deep, muddy canal.”

  “What are the odds the British will breach our line?” Mr. Livingston asked.

  “I put the odds at ninety-nine to one that the British will fail.”

  “If you’re giving those odds, why not a hundred?” the general asked.

  Quietly, Rick chuckled. “You wouldn’t believe me then.”

  “I hope your assessment’s correct, Mr. O’Grady,” the general said. “We’re finished here. Now I’m going to ride the line and speak to the men.”

  The staff dispersed, but Philippe signaled to Penny that he wanted to talk. She and Lafitte huddled with him.

  “What should we do about the west bank?” Philippe asked.

  “I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Penny said.

  “What’s the problem?” Lafitte asked.

  “It’s a fuck-up,” Penny said. “Commander Patterson’s batteries on the west bank will pound the British advancing across Chalmette toward Jackson’s breastwork. At the same time, Colonel Thornton’s British troops will advance on General Morgan’s line, to protect Patterson’s guns. But as Thornton closes in on the breastworks, the Kentuckians will panic and run. When Patterson realizes the Kentuckians he relies on for protection have abandoned his battery, he’ll order his men to spike the cannons and destroy the powder so his battery can’t be used against Jackson.”

  Philippe continued the explanation, saying, “When General Jackson realizes Patterson’s guns are silent, he’ll believe the enemy occupies a position that could defeat him. He’ll order Governor Claiborne to collect every available man to go to Morgan’s aid, but none will be available. The British will have enough troops there to hold the position and clear the path for the British to march on New Orleans from that side of the river.”

  Jean closed one eye. “I thought the Americans win the battle.”

  “We do,” Penny said. “Vice Admiral Cochran’s naval expedition against Fort St. Philip will fail, so British ships can’t resupply their troops. At that point, Major General Lambert will have no choice but to order a retreat.”

  “So it works out,” Jean said.

  “In the end, yes,” Penny said.

  “Jackson will never send more troops to the west bank, so there’s no point in pushing him,” Philippe said.

  “Then we’ve answered your original question,” Penny said. “We’ll need to support the general when he discovers Morgan’s line won’t hold.”

  “I’ll do that.” Philippe glanced out the window. “The general’s leaving now. I’ll see you at the canal.”

  After Philippe left, Penny turned to Jean. “I haven’t seen you since we got home from dinner at the Fontenots. Is everything okay with you?”

  He put his arm around her waist and tugged her to him. “I’ve missed you.” He kissed her cheek. “Are you going back to the city tonight?”

  She gazed up at him. “No, I’ll stay here. The general won’t get much sleep, and he might want to talk or visit with his men. I want to be available to offer encouragement.”

  “You’re the best person to do that.” Jean straightened her eye patch. “Don’t wear this tomorrow. You’ll need both eyes.”

  Rick came back into the room and stopped when he saw them. “Oh…um… Well, everyone’s leaving. Are you coming?”

  After a long stretch of silence that grew awkward for her, she said, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

  Jean clasped her forearms and kissed her forehead. “Be careful.”

  “You too,” she said.

  Jean tapped his knuckle to the brim of his hat. “Your turn,” he said to Rick as he walked away.

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  She would have liked a few more minutes with Jean. Every minute of their remaining time together was precious, but she wanted to talk to Rick privately, and they might not get another chance for a while.

  “No, you didn’t interrupt. Jean needed to return to his men.”

  Rick furrowed his fingers through his hair, then held them there, cupping the back of his head. “Look,” he dropped his hands, and his arms hung loosely at his sides like they knew they should do something but had no clue what. “I owe you an apology for my behavior. Not only at the dinner table, but before dinner, too. I was out of line, and I’m sorry. I disrespected you, and I’ve never done that to a woman before. My sister would crunch my nuts, slowly and one at a time, if she heard what I did.”

  “I wasn’t offended. I knew the corset was risqué, but it was fun. I couldn’t get away with that at home, but as Penny Lafitte, I can be as outrageous as I want to be. Like”—she flipped her hair off her shoulder—“blue hair. If I’m going to be outrageous, I can’t complain about the reactions I get.” She wanted to add, You’ve never looked at me like that before. But she kept the thought to herself.

  “That was only part of the rude behavior I need to apologize for.”

  She looked sideways at him for a beat, and then said, “So what’s the rest?”

  He looked around the room before his eyes fastened on hers again. “It pissed me the hell off that you and Lafitte took what happened to you so lightly. I wanted to kill him for hurting you.”

  She sucked a quick breath, muscles tightening, remembering those first few days. “I wanted to kill him at the time, so I understand your anger, but it was all a mistake, and I’ve forgiven him. If he had known who I was, he never would have treated me like that.”

  “I don’t know how you can forgive him so easily.”

  “Trust me, forgiving him wasn’t easy. He ended up with bruised ribs, and I got bruised knuckles.”

  “He hit you?”

  Penny rubbed her fists, remembering how angry she’d been. “No. He just let me punch him. His chest is like a brick wall. I’m surprised I didn’t break my hand or at least a finger.”

  Pete stuck his head in the door. “We’re leaving. You guys okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re coming,” Rick said. Then to Penny, he added, “Just so you know, if we weren’t here, I’d avoid you because I’m so embarrassed about my behavior.”

  “We’ve all done stupid shit, O’Grady. We don’t have to rehash what happened ever again. We’re good. But what about Remy?”

  “We agreed to talk after the battle. We need to cool down a bit before we deal with it, but we’re good friends. We’ll work it out.”

  “So, who’s our leader now?”

  “Still him, unless he wants to reinstate me.”

  “I don’t think he was trying to put anything over on you. He just had to get your attention.”

  Rick pinched the bridge of his nose as he explained, “I wish he hadn’t done it in such a dramatic and embarrassing way. But I deserved it.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, unsure of how to handle this situation. Fuck it. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Don’t beat yourself up.” His hard, steel-cut muscles wrapped her in a tight embrace. A man who would disrupt his life to rescue her was a turn-on, but she couldn’t let herself dwell on that right now. She slowly let go of him, and they gazed at each other until a sweet ache stirred inside her. Surprised and unsure what to do now, she tore her eyes away.

  “We better go,” she said.

  A half-grin broke on his whiskered face. “Did I have a sign on my forehead—Hug an Asshole Today?”

  “Yeah, but I ignored that one and went with the Hug a Friend Today sign instead.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder and turned her toward the door. “When we get ba
ck—”

  She put her finger across his lips. “Let’s get there first.”

  They hurried out of the house and mounted up, then raced after the others, finally catching them at the canal. They followed behind Jackson as he rode the line, stopping to exchange easy banter with his men. Several times the general dismounted to mingle with them.

  “Can you tell what unit the soldiers belong to by the color of their uniforms?” Soph asked Penny.

  “Most of them. There’s no one cloth of the nation. The men in navy blue jackets with red collars and red wrist facings, white trousers, and tall black boots are Marines. They’re the only Americans with bayonets. They also carry .69-caliber Springfield muskets.”

  Soph sketched a Marine and made notes about colors. “Who’s next?”

  “The soldiers in blue and white striped shirts and wide slop trousers are sailors. Jean’s men are wearing red shirts and baggy trousers. Major Plauché’s New Orleans Volunteers are mostly in white, but some are wearing black tunics, and some are even in French National Guard uniforms.”

  “What about the men in dark blue jackets and white trousers with red scarves around their waists?”

  “That’s the US Infantry. The Louisiana dragoons are in pale green, and Mississippi dragoons are in dark green.”

  “How do you keep all that straight?”

  “Part of the job,” Penny said. “Over there in brown jackets are the Felician dragoons, and the men in buckskin are Tennessee Volunteers, Kentucky Militia, and the New Orleans Riflemen.”

  “I might have to ask you again,” Soph said, making notes in her journal next to sketches of the uniforms.

  “I’ll help all I can, and if I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

  “Good, because I hate to interrupt the general to ask for these kinds of details.”

  When Jackson reached General Carroll’s troops, he stopped to talk to a soldier. “Do you know who that is?” Soph sketched the general with the man.