by Jane Peart
She pressed her cheek against the coarse greatcoat, smelling the damp wool smell, breathing in the fresh scent of rain and cold air. “Oh, Wes! Wes!” she cried, her voice smothered as he held her in a crushing embrace. “I can’t believe you’re really here!”
“Well, I am, my darling. Believe it!”
She hugged him tight, then drew back. “Let me look at you, see if you’re real!” she exclaimed. “Oh, my goodness! You’ve grown whiskers!” she giggled.
“You don’t mind, I hope!” he laughed. “I thought it gave me more dignity, made me look more like an officer and a gentleman.” He grinned, then added quickly, “I’ll shave it off if you don’t like it.”
“Let me see.” She smiled and kissed him on the mouth. Their kiss was long, tender, infinitely sweet. Then JoBeth laughed softly. “It tickles. But I think I like it!” She hugged him.
Wes gave a low chuckle. “It’s so wonderful to be with you again. To see you smile, hear you laugh. You don’t know how I’ve missed that. Missed you!”
“I think I do know, as I’ve missed you,” she said, “Oh, Wes, it’s been so long. I didn’t think it would ever happen!”
“Well, it has,” he said almost solemnly.
For a long moment they simply looked at each other. Then she lifted her face and they kissed again. There was a difference in this kiss. It was the fulfillment of what had been only a hope, a longing. When it ended, Wes said, “Now, dearest, we will have to leave as soon as possible—you have your papers and I’ve brought your pass. It is best we leave when the sentries who have been on duty all night may not be as alert. There won’t be too many questions when we show our passes. There is always a risk that if my true identity as a Union soldier should be discovered, I’d be considered a spy in enemy territory.”
His words fell like heavy stones on JoBeth, briefly blotting her first happiness at their reunion. Stark reality of what they were facing hit. This was wartime. He was the enemy. They must flee under cover of darkness, like fugitives. Her heart thundered.
“How soon can you be ready?” he asked.
“Right away. I’ve most of my things packed.”
Amelia, who had been standing at the top of the landing and had watched their meeting, overheard Wes’s anxious question and came down a few steps, saying, “Come along, JoBeth. I’ll help you get everything together. There’s no time to waste.”
Although Amelia had many doubts about this elopement—and was worldly enough to know that love did not conquer all, in spite of all the poems written, the ballads sung—she still felt exhilarated. These two star-crossed young lovers had excited her romantic imagination. JoBeth hurried back up the stairs and with Amelia’s help put the last items into her valise. They both had to sit on her trunk to get it closed. Amelia held the gray melton cape for her to put on and hooked the corded frog fastenings under her chin. JoBeth pulled the hood over her hair. “Well, this is it!” she said breathlessly.
Suddenly tears sprang into Amelia’s eyes as she looked at JoBeth. Then she placed both hands on the girl’s cheeks, gazed at her for a moment, then kissed her fondly, saying, “Dear child, I wish you the best, all the best, and as much happiness as it is possible to find. God bless and keep you, my dear.”
Impulsively, JoBeth put her arms around Amelia. “Thank you, thank you, for everything! I shall always remember your kindness and be grateful.”
There was no more time to say anything. JoBeth went to the top of the stairs and called Wes. He took the steps two at a time and came into the bedroom to shoulder her small trunk. Quickly they went down the stairs and out into the night.
Wes helped her into the carriage, then carefully arranged the rug over her knees. The sound of the carriage wheels against the wet pavement mixed with the hollow clip-clop of horse hooves. As she looked out the window of the cab, the whole world seemed wrapped in the mysterious yellow light from the street lamps. As the Brooke house faded into the rainy mist, JoBeth felt the same farewell she had the morning she left Hillsboro. Who knew when she would ever see it again?
Chapter Twenty-One
As they reached the city limits of Richmond, Wes took JoBeth’s hand in his and said, “Now, don’t be afraid and don’t act frightened. This should go quickly. Our papers are in order, and there shouldn’t be any problem. Just act naturally, answer any questions with yes or no. I’ll do most of the talking.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, it will be fine.”
The carriage came to a jolting halt. Even before it came to a full stop, Wes’s hand was on the door handle. He opened the door and jumped out.
JoBeth could hear men’s voices. Her stomach muscles knotted painfully. What if their passes—or at least Wes’s—were found to be counterfeit? Would they be arrested, thrown into prison? All the horror stories she had ever heard about Yankee treatment of spies rushed into JoBeth’s mind. She shrank back against the carriage cushions, holding her breath. She shivered, but not from cold. It was more the involuntary type of quiver that old Annie used to call “somebody walkin’ ’pon ma grave.” It was that same sort of childish fear of the unknown, fear of whatever might be going to happen.
Oh, dear Father God, let us get through safely, she prayed desperately. She leaned close to the carriage’s open window. Wes was talking to the sentries, and she strained to hear what was being said. Wes’s voice had taken on a distinctly Southern drawl—more pronounced than it was naturally. Most native North Carolinians’ accents were never as noticeable as that of someone from Georgia or South Carolina. If she had not been so tense, she might have smiled. She realized Wes was intentionally trying to distract the sentries as their passes were being examined. And it worked. In a matter of minutes, their passage into Washington was approved and they were again on their way.
Back in the carriage beside her, Wes took off his hat, wiped his forehead, and said, “Whew!” Not until then did she realize what a strain the encounter must have been for him. She’d had no idea how worried he’d been about getting by the Virginia border. She shuddered, remembering Amelia and Jacob talking about danger. It was wartime. Danger was everywhere. But surely they would be in no danger as they passed through the Union lines, JoBeth thought to herself. She shuddered again.
“Are you cold?” Wes asked with immediate concern. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “It won’t be long now, dearest. Washington’s actually not far. Ironic, isn’t it, that the seat of the government and that of the rebellion are located so close together.” He sighed deeply. “Only a few miles apart in distance, yet a million in purpose.” His arm tightened around her.
The combination of emotional excitement, the wakefulness of the night before, and the rocking motion of the carriage gradually lulled JoBeth to sleep. Her head cushioned on Wes’s shoulder, his arm supporting her, she was hardly aware as they traveled through the night.
Grayish light was seeping through the slits in the carriage curtains when JoBeth stirred. She came slowly awake.
“We’re almost there,” Wes told her gently as she sat up, blinking sleepily. “We’re safe now. We’re coming over the bridge into Washington.”
JoBeth rubbed the back of her neck, moved her shoulders to ease their stiffness, and peered out into the misty morning.
“We’ll be stopped again, and our passes checked, but there’ll be no problem here.” Wes was getting out the leather folder containing their papers, so he’d be ready to get out at the checkpoint.
No problem? Why not? she thought drowsily, remembering how nervous Wes had been as they had approached the Virginia border. Then she realized why. They were no longer in the South, where Wes would have been in mortal danger, branded as a traitor, if caught. A Union officer traveling out of uniform with false credentials would have been considered a spy there. If they had been found out, Wes would have been dragged off, thrown into prison, shot without a trial! Of course there’d be no problem here, because now they were in what her relatives considered enemy territory.
Before Wes got out, he reassured her, “This shouldn’t take long.” He got out as soon as they stopped, shutting the carriage door behind him. Minutes passed. He did not come back. Concerned, JoBeth looked out into the murky morning to see what could be delaying him. She saw him conferring with two soldiers. He was gesturing back to the carriage with the hand that held their passes. What could be wrong?
She did not have to wait much longer to find out. Wes opened the carriage door and put his head inside, saying, “I’m sorry, darling, but they insist you get out of the carriage and present yourself.” He lowered his voice. “I tried my best to convince them this was not necessary, that I could send to Major Meredith for confirmation of who I am and why I am escorting you into Washington. Of course, it’s too early for the major to have arrived at his office. And I don’t want to disturb him at home. If we don’t comply, they tell me we will have to wait until such time as they can receive clearance and let us pass.”
“I thought you said there would be no problem,” she protested.
“I didn’t think so. Evidently, security has been tightened. Lately there have been a number of occurrences of Confederate spies getting through, carrying secrets, vital military information. Unfortunately, these recent incidents have involved ladies. Hiding messages on their person.” He hesitated, as if embarrassed. “I apologize, but it seems unavoidable. Unless we want to sit here for a couple of hours while they send for validation of our passes and wait for confirmation.” He paused. “I promise, you will not be subjected to any indignity. They just want to make sure you are who our papers say you are, that you match the physical description. They’ll ask you a few questions, that’s all.”
JoBeth had heard some of the stories relayed through the Richmond ladies’ “grapevine.” She had listened, appalled, to tales of female travelers being stopped and interrogated, the linings of their bonnets being ripped open, muffs torn apart, parasols cut to ribbons. Worse were other stories of some being required to remove their hoops as they were searched for possible contraband being carried to the enemy. Now she had to face such a possibility herself!
However, there was nothing to do but get out and do as they had been requested. The two young guards seemed a little uncomfortable, but they bluffed it out. They shuffled through her papers, asked her date of birth, her mother’s maiden name, and a few more innocuous questions. Then the corporal, who seemed to be in charge, gruffly asked her to swear that all her answers were truthful, upon the possible charge of perjury. Never before having had her honesty challenged, JoBeth drew herself up and replied with cold indignation. “Of course.”
She was then required to take the oath of allegiance, which with Wes’s prompting she managed to do.
“You may proceed,” mumbled the sentry to Wes, handing him back the sheaf of papers containing their passes.
Once they were back in the carriage and moving, Wes apologized. “I’m sorry, darling, but the fellow was only doing his duty.”
JoBeth gave a little shudder. “Horrible,” was all she could say.
“Soon all this will be over—a bad dream, a nightmare. We’re safe. Nothing more to worry about,” he said confidently. “Everything’s going to be fine now.”
JoBeth wished she could feel as sure.
All the happy excitement of their elopement had drained away, leaving her feeling shaken. What had she done? Come all this way, gone through so much, for this?
She looked out the carriage window. What she saw alarmed her and disgusted her. As they rolled along, she saw acres of makeshift shacks, dilapidated tents, lean-tos, set up on a stretch of swampy ground. It was too early for the poor dwellers of these pitiful shelters to be up and about—still, it struck her to the core that human beings could possibly be living in such squalor. She had never seen anything like it. Wordlessly she turned to Wes for some explanation.
Seeing her expression, Wes sensed her reaction. “It’s one of the degrading facts of wartime life. People have poured into Washington since the war—doubling, tripling, the population. They are of all sorts: freed blacks hoping for work, the families of enlisted men who have followed them here and can’t afford even the cheapest place to live. There are others, I’m afraid: rogues, thieves, camp followers, pickpockets—disreputable types you always find in any big city when normal life is overturned.”
“But it’s dreadful!” JoBeth exclaimed. “Can’t something be done about all this? Can’t better places be found for them to live?”
“The local officials and the metropolitan police try, but the problems are overwhelming—and of course, Congress and the army are occupied with the war.” His arm went around her, drawing her closer as if to comfort her. “Try not to be too upset, JoBeth. This is all on the outskirts, terrible as it is. Farther along, it is different. I’ve found rooms for us in a quiet residential section of the city. In a lovely house. The home belongs to Mrs. Caroline Hobbs, a Southerner but loyal to the Union. She is a widow of only a few years and has been lonely living by herself. That’s why she’s renting us rooms. She is looking forward to meeting you, and I believe you will find her delightful company when I’m away on duty.”
“But that won’t be too often, will it? We will have time together? You won’t be gone all the time, will you?”
“No, of course not. I should be home every evening unless Major Meredith has some special assignment for me.” He smiled at her tenderly. “What is a few hours apart now? It will seem like nothing after all these months.” He looked at her lovingly, almost as if he couldn’t believe she was really there.
She rested her head momentarily against his shoulder. She knew Wes was happy, wanted her to be happy—and she wanted to be. But just now she felt unsure, frightened.
After a while, the carriage pulled up in front of a stone house. “Here we are,” Wes said. He got out and turned to help her down. The morning was still rather dark, clouds overhead threatening rain. While Wes saw to her valise and hatbox, and the driver got down her small trunk, JoBeth looked up at the place that was to be her new home. There were lights on in the downstairs windows. As she stood there waiting, she saw the edge of a lace curtain lift in one of them, then drop. A minute later the front door opened and the portly figure of a woman was framed in the entrance.
“Come in, come in! Don’t stand there in the chill,” a genteel Southern voice urged.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hobbs,” Wes called back, then said to JoBeth, “Come, meet our landlady.” He took her arm, and together they went up the walk to the house.
Mrs. Hobbs was a handsome woman in her mid-forties, with salt-and-pepper hair under a lace-ruffled cap trembling with bows. She was wearing a black bombazine dress with a white collar. She shook JoBeth’s hand warmly, studying her with quick, curious dark eyes. “Oh, my dear, I am so happy to meet you. I knew you must be a very special young lady, because your young man was very particular about everything being just so for you. Such devotion, such attention to every detail in your rooms. Come along, let me show you,” Mrs. Hobbs invited, leading the way up the stairway. JoBeth murmured something she hoped was polite and followed.
The rooms were quite nicely appointed. In the small sitting room, a fire burned cheerily, lighting up the corners. There was a love seat and two comfortable armchairs. In the center was a round table with a ruby-glass-globed lamp. Flowered chintz tie-backs over unpleated lace curtains hung at the three-windowed bay. Watching for JoBeth’s approval, Mrs. Hobbs pushed open the door to the adjoining bedroom. The high-backed, heavily carved mahogany bed was piled high with pillows and covered with an appliqued quilt. In one corner stood a chaise, of the type that was popularly called a lady’s “fainting couch.”
“Everything is very nice, Mrs. Hobbs,” JoBeth said appreciatively.
“I did so hope you’d like it!” beamed Mrs. Hobbs, seeming satisfied.
For a few more minutes Mrs. Hobbs fluttered about the rooms, touching antimacassars on the furniture, shifting the china dogs on the
mantelpiece, stopping to rearrange a knickknack on one of the tables, before finally leaving.
JoBeth looked at Wes, not sure what to do next. At last, after all the conflict, all her stubborn resistance, her determination to come at all costs, she was here. And there was Wes, the reason for all of her rebellion, her refusal to listen to the pleas, the threats, the warnings, of her family and friends. A wave of doubt left her cold and shaking. Suddenly, what she had given up flashed before her. Should she have come?
Wes stood at the door, remaining there after having closed it behind the departing Mrs. Hobbs.
“Our appointment at the church is for four o’clock. I thought that would give you time to have a rest after our journey. It’s been pretty intense, I know.” There was concern in his eyes. He hesitated, as if waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he went on, “I’ve made all the arrangements. My commanding officer, Major Meredith, will meet us at the church. He has agreed to stand up with me. I wanted him to meet you anyway. He is a fine person and very sympathetic to us. His sister is married to a Southerner, so they have experienced some of the same conflicts we have endured.” He paused again, looking anxious. “Are you all right, darling? You look pale.”
“Just a little tired and”—she smiled wanly—“a little hungry.”
“Of course. I should have thought of that. I’m sorry.” He turned, put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll go right down and ask Mrs. Hobbs if she could bring you something to eat.”
“If it’s no trouble?”
“I’m sure that would be no trouble at all. I think Mrs. Hobbs is the motherly type, don’t you?” A smile brightened his face for a minute. “Would you like some tea, or would you rather have coffee?”
