Candle in the Darkness

by Lynn Austin

  “I didn’t do any of those things. The map and the papers were intended for my own servants. I didn’t know that they would . . .” Caroline stopped, unwilling to incriminate Tessie or Eli with her words. “I don’t condone what they chose to do with the map. But I do understand why they did it. When freedom is just a few short miles away—”

  “If your slaves were responsible, then they must be punished. Have you disciplined them for what they’ve done?”

  “No. And I’m not going to. I’ll take the blame for their actions myself before I’ll ever allow them to be punished.”

  His eyes flashed with anger. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Your slaves are involved in criminal activities, and you’re not going to stop them?”

  “All of the servants who escaped were about to be separated from their loved ones or have their lives turned upside down— including your own slaves. We helped them escape because the greater wrong would have been to stand by and watch them suffer. No one was hurt in the escapes or the robberies. I’m sorry about the thefts, I don’t condone them, but . . .”

  She stopped. Charles was shaking his head. Caroline knew he wasn’t hearing her, wasn’t understanding what she was trying to say. The silence that followed was terrible. She was afraid she might be sick.

  When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, cold. “What about the prison break at Libby? Were you involved in any way?”

  She had to force the words out of her mouth. “Yes. I was.”

  “So, you lied to my father? And then you let me play the fool, defending your integrity?”

  “It wasn’t like that, Charles—”

  “What was it like, Caroline? You tell me. You lied when you told Father you had nothing to do with it, didn’t you? Did you lie about your relationship with that prisoner, too?”

  “No.” Tears rolled silently down her face at the resentment in his voice, the distrust in his eyes where love had always been. “Robert has never been anything more to me than a friend.”

  “Oh, really,” he said, scornfully. “Is he in love with you?”

  Caroline hesitated, knowing what the truth would sound like. Charles saw her hesitation and said, “You promised you would tell me the truth, Caroline.”

  “Robert says that he loves me. But I always made it very clear to him that I loved you, that we were engaged and—”

  “Did you hide him from the authorities?”

  She could only nod.

  “Where? My father said they searched your house.”

  Caroline saw his love slipping away like a ship sailing downriver, getting smaller and less distinct as it faded into the distance. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She told him the truth. “While the guards were searching downstairs, Eli hid Robert in my bed.”

  “Dear God . . . Caroline . . .”

  “Please believe me . . . I did nothing improper. If I had, would I have told you the truth about his hiding place?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Pain had replaced the anger in his eyes. His chest rose and fell as he struggled with his emotions.

  Caroline knew he would ask her about Ferguson soon, and she dreaded telling him. At the same time, she wanted this terrible inquisition to end. If she couldn’t make him understand why she had helped the slaves or why she’d helped Robert, she knew he would never understand why she had passed information to his enemies—much less forgive her for it.

  “I don’t want to believe any of this,” Charles said. “Especially the accusations that you were involved with this spy, Ferguson— that you passed secret information to him. I told my father that it couldn’t possibly be true, that you would never do such a thing. But he believes you went out of your way to cultivate friendships with army officials and cabinet members, hosting parties for them—then you shared all their confidences with our enemies. He says we could compare your handwriting and learn the truth . . . but I told him I wanted to ask you myself.”

  She could no longer face Charles. The grief and betrayal in his eyes were too painful to see. Caroline covered her own face and wept.

  “If I’ve just accused you falsely,” he said in a trembling voice, “tell me and I’ll apologize. Tell me that my father is wrong, and I’ll defend you before the highest court.”

  “No . . .” she said. “No. It’s true.”

  “Oh, God . . .” Charles moaned in pain. Then he began to shout, as if the only way he could keep from weeping was to smother his grief with rage. “I was lying out there in a trench, in danger, and you betrayed me to the enemy? I was being shot at and shelled day after day and you told them where to aim? I risked my life for you. For you, Caroline! I could have died a hundred times because of the information you gave them, and you expect me to believe that you love me?”

  “I begged you not to fight. I never believed in your cause. And I never understood why you did. You said you loved me, yet you left me here, all alone, to cope with my fear and hunger and loss— you and my father and Jonathan, you all left me! The only people who stayed and prayed with me and helped me find enough food to stay alive and enough fuel to stay warm were my slaves. You fought in a war you admitted we could never win. You did what you wanted to do, regardless of how I felt, regardless of whether I agreed with you or not. You were fighting against everything I believed in, Charles. Can’t you see that you did the same thing you accuse me of doing? Does that mean you never loved me?”

  “I never lied to you about what I believed or which side I was fighting for.”

  “And I never lied to you about slavery. That’s why I passed information to Mr. Ferguson. If the South wins, slavery wins. I did it because slavery is wrong, not because I didn’t love you. I prayed that God would spare you, and He has.”

  “And did you think I could still love you when I found out what you’ve been doing all this time?”

  “I prayed that you would understand.”

  “Well, I don’t. A lot of good, brave men have been butchered by your Yankee friends . . . including your own cousins and maybe your father. Now I’m lying here, a pathetic invalid . . . I don’t know how you can expect me to forgive you.”

  Caroline covered her face. The price she had offered God— her future with Charles—would now be paid in full. But at least he was alive. At least the man she loved would live.

  “Listen now,” Charles said coldly. “I told my father that if it were true, that if you were guilty . . . I didn’t want you arrested here in Richmond. I don’t need to see you publicly condemned or locked away in Castle Thunder. I hate what you’ve done, but seeking revenge won’t change anything. When Timothy Webster and his wife were caught spying they hanged him, but they sent Mrs. Webster across enemy lines into exile. That’s not a possibility right now, since we’re under siege, but when the time comes, when there’s another prisoner exchange . . .” Charles’ voice trembled. “You’ll be sent away. In the meantime, as long as you remain at home . . .” He couldn’t finish.

  Caroline didn’t think it was possible to hurt as much as she did and still live. She slowly pulled the ring from her finger and laid it on the sheet in front of him. She longed to caress his face, to feel the touch of his hands on hers one last time. But he turned his face away from her. She saw tears in Charles’ eyes before he closed them. She looked at the man she loved for the last time, then hurried away.

  For the first time in Caroline’s life, neither Tessie nor Eli was able to comfort her.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  December 1864

  “Can this really be the fourth Christmas that we’ve been at war?” Caroline wondered aloud. She’d awakened to the sound of bells ringing on Christmas morning at nearby St. John’s Church.

  “Yes, Missy. I been counting them, too,” Ruby replied. “And I been asking Massa Jesus to please let this one be the last.” She rose from her pallet in Caroline’s room where she slept. Ever since Isaac was born, Ruby had taken Tessie’s place as Caroline’s chambermaid.
Now she hurried over to the fireplace and began poking the embers back to life.

  “Let the fire go out, Ruby. Let’s not waste the wood.”

  “But it’s too cold in here for you to be getting dressed. You’ll catch your death.”

  “I’ll dress quickly. I don’t need all my hoops and petticoats and things. It’ll be nice and warm when we get down to the kitchen.”

  Caroline couldn’t help shivering, though, as she stood on the icy floor and waited for Ruby to tie her corset laces and help fasten her bodice. She put on both pairs of her stockings to warm her feet, even though they made her shoes feel too tight. Ruby quickly brushed her hair and pinned it up.

  The church bells sounded louder as Caroline hurried outside to the kitchen. The carillon of St. Paul’s Church downtown, and dozens of others across the city, had joined in with St. John’s Church, each chiming different tones. She wished they would stop. They reminded her that it was Christmas, and Christmas reminded her of Charles and of their engagement five years ago. Sally would be remembering her engagement to Jonathan this morning, too, and praying that she wasn’t a widow.

  In the darkness last night, Caroline had silently wept into her pillow, longing to be in beautiful St. Paul’s for the midnight Christmas Eve service. Confined to her home, she hadn’t been able to attend church in weeks. She wondered if Charles had gone, if he was well enough now to leave his bed and his house.

  As soon as Caroline entered the kitchen, little Isaac gently nudged her sorrow aside, running to her with arms outstretched, as overjoyed to see her today as he was every day. She lifted him in her arms to kiss his soft cheeks, accepting his own wet kiss in return. He was a beautiful child, with Tessie’s almond-shaped eyes, Josiah’s ebony skin, and Eli’s broad smile.

  “Merry Christmas, Isaac,” Caroline said, caressing his dark, woolly head. “You don’t even know what that means, do you?”

  “Oh yes, he does,” Tessie said. “Don’t you know his granddaddy been telling him all about baby Jesus in the manger, and the angels singing, and the shepherds coming? That boy gonna have the whole Bible memorized before he has a mouthful of teeth.”

  “It might be Christmas,” Esther said with a sigh, “but we sure ain’t having much of a Christmas dinner this year. We eating the same old thing we eat every day—dried peas, salt pork, and these here potatoes.”

  Eli walked into the kitchen with a few sticks of firewood just then and heard Esther’s complaint. “You know what the Bible says about eating poor?” he asked. “Says it’s better to eat a stale old piece of bread in a kitchen full of love than a great big feast in a mansion where everybody arguing all the time.”

  “Well, we certainly got plenty of love around here,” Esther said, “but that’s about all we got.”

  “Something smells good,” Caroline said, sniffing the air. “What’s baking in the cast-iron oven?”

  “Oh, that’s just some sweet potatoes I’m fixing with sorghum and spices and such. Thought it might taste a little bit like sweet potato pie . . . without the crust, since there ain’t much flour.”

  Against her will, Caroline thought of Charles and his family again. Their flour mills had been at a near standstill ever since the wheat harvests in the Shenandoah Valley had been lost to the enemy. Tessie heard through the slave grapevine that Mr. St. John had hired Josiah out to labor in the mines somewhere to earn extra money. Tessie hadn’t seen her husband since the night he’d brought Charles to the hospital. Yet in all the years that Tessie had spent apart from Josiah, Caroline had never heard her complain or seen her shed tears. She longed to ask Tessie what the secret was to forgetting. How much time had to pass before she would stop thinking of the man she loved every hour of every day, wondering where he was, what he was doing?

  When their simple meal was on the table, ready to eat, Eli climbed up to the loft to wake Gilbert, who had been allowed to sleep late. The two men took turns staying awake all night, guarding Caroline’s property—and especially their meager supplies of food and firewood. Starving souls roamed the besieged city at night, stealing from anyone who had a little more than they did.

  When everyone was seated around the table, Eli spoke the blessing. “Lord, I thank you for this food, and I ask you to bless those sorry folks who don’t even have this much. I thank you that Massa Lincoln won the election up north, cause he promise to set all us colored folks free. I thank you for sending your Son on this happy day and for loving us so much you adopt us into your family. Thank you, Massa Jesus. Amen.”

  Caroline looked around at her servants and silently thanked God that they had adopted her into their family. Her own mother and father may have both chosen to leave her, but Tessie and Eli had stayed, even when it meant giving up their chance at freedom. She remembered her conversation with Eli a long time ago about Rahab the spy, who had betrayed her city, but who later became part of Christ’s family. Maybe Eli was right; maybe God did give something in return for what was lost.

  “I’m thinking this war is just about over,” Eli said as they ate. “Ain’t that right, Missy?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “anyone who’s realistic and has read about all the defeats we’ve suffered lately knows that it’s nearly over. And that the South has lost.”

  According to the papers, General Sherman had just made good on his promise to deliver the city of Savannah to President Lincoln for a Christmas gift. But news of the desolation Sherman had left in his wake made Caroline disgusted with the Yankees. As much as she longed to see the slaves emancipated, she hated that it had cost such a staggering price.

  “Now that our freedom is almost here,” Eli continued, “we have to start thinking about the future—what we all gonna do once we free. And most important, what job God asking us to do for Him. I think we should go round the table and let each person say what they dreaming about. Then we know how to pray for each other in the New Year.”

  Heads nodded in agreement as Eli looked around the table at everyone. Caroline had never told any of her servants that her punishment for spying was going to be exile. If the war didn’t end before spring, before the next prisoner exchange, she would very likely be banished from her home in Richmond and sent north. But as she listened to her servants’ dreams for the future, she decided not to spoil the day by telling them what awaited her.

  “All right then,” Eli said. “Guess I’ll go first . . . When I’m a free man I want to start a church where I can preach about the love of Massa Jesus. I believe He wants me to help all the colored folk learn how to serve their new Massa.” He turned to Esther, seated beside him.

  “Now, Eli,” she said with a frown. “You know the Lord ain’t giving me no fancy plans like yours.”

  “That don’t matter,” he said. “God needs people to do all kind of things, big and small. Just tell us what’s on your heart.”

  “Well . . . I want to be able to cook again, to have me some food in this kitchen so I can feed the people I love. I want to have my son, Josiah, home. And I want to watch this little grandbaby of mine grow up into a man. That’s all.”

  “Those are fine things to wish for,” Eli said. “How about you, Gilbert?”

  He stared down at his plate for so long that Caroline didn’t think this normally quiet man was going to share his thoughts with the others. When he finally did, he surprised her.

  “I’m praying that your daddy comes back, Missy Caroline. And that when he does . . . well, I’d like to get a job working on one of his ships. I ain’t never seen the ocean before. I’d like to sail down to one of them islands where the sugarcane grows. I hear they got some pretty colored women living down there, and I’d like to find me a wife.”

  Luella was next. She spoke without ever looking up at anyone, blushing the entire time. “I promised Gus that I would marry him when we free. Gus use to drive for Missy Sally before he run off. He gonna find us a place to live and come back for me.”

  Caroline winced at this reminder of Sally and Charles—and at
her own ignorance of her servants’ lives. During all those years that the St. Johns had visited her home, Caroline had never guessed that their driver and Luella were falling in love.

  “Gus a good man,” Eli said. “He’ll keep his word. . . . Tell us what you wishing for, Ruby.”

  She shook her head. “Can’t recall ever wishing for anything, Eli. I took care of your mama, Missy Caroline, now I taking care you. I’d like to take care your babies and grandbabies if you let me.”

  Caroline fought back tears. “I’d like that, too, Ruby,” she said. But she had no hope of ever loving another man besides Charles. Nor could she envision a future with children of her own for Ruby to care for.

  Tessie spoke next. “I’m praying that my boy Grady come home,” she began.

  “How old that boy be now?” Esther asked.

  “Almost twenty. I still think of him as my boy, but he a man already. And, of course, I want Josiah to come home, too. I just want us all to live together for once in our lives—me and Josiah and Grady and Isaac. And to never have to be apart again. Missy Caroline, you my child, too, so I hoping Ruby will let me share some of your babies and grandbabies.”

  “Sure can,” Ruby said. “Every child in the world need two grandmas.”

  Caroline smiled, even though she didn’t dare to share her servants’ dreams. She remembered a night in Philadelphia, long ago, when her cousin Julia had hugged her pillow in the dark, pretending it was her husband. Caroline had tried it but found that the pillow had no face, that there was no one she could imagine marrying. Years later, that was still true. When she tried to picture Charles’ face, she saw it as she’d seen it last, his eyes filled with anger and the pain of her betrayal.

  After a moment, Caroline noticed that the kitchen had gone quiet. She looked up. “How about you, honey?” Tessie asked her.

  “I wish that the war would end,” Caroline said, her voice hoarse.