“No, no, Jolie,” he said soothingly. “I know now that is not feasible. No, the problem is that I need to make sure you are safe here. That Rapidan Run is safe, and that Amon and his family are safe. I need to make plans. I need to do some things to prepare.”
He found himself groping for the words to explain, when to his surprise Jolie said, “It’s because of what Mr. DeForge said, isn’t it? On that day you were talking about if a war came.”
“You were there?” he said blankly. Though he recalled every detail of Henry DeForge’s worn face and all his words, he had no picture in his mind of Jolie being there that pleasant spring day on the veranda. A pained look came over her face then vanished.
Evenly she said, “I was there, and I remember what he said. About hoarding gold and food and other things. That’s what you’re worrying about, isn’t it? Making sure that Rapidan Run has food for us and the horses stored up in case the war makes it hard for us to buy things?”
“That’s it exactly, Jolie. You’re a smart little mouse, you know.” He shifted in his seat and rested his chin on one hand, studying her face. “Do you remember about Mr. DeForge’s will, Jolie? Not about your money or me taking care of you. Do you remember me telling you that you have a personal line of credit at Mr. DeForge’s company for life?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Do you know what it means?”
“Yes, because Mr. DeForge taught me a lot of things about business,” she said confidently. “A line of credit means you can buy things and pay for them later.”
Morgan nodded. “I thought it was kind of odd at the time. But now I’m beginning to think that maybe Mr. DeForge could foresee a lot of things that others, certainly including myself, could not. I would like your permission to use your line of credit at DeForge Imports & Exports, Ltd. Though the debt will be in your name, of course I will repay it all.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Tremayne. I know what you’re going to buy with the credit line. But let me ask you something. I have so much money, Mr. Tremayne, why don’t you use that instead? I don’t mind you using my credit line, but you don’t have to run up a debt.”
It amused Morgan that she was talking in such a grown-up manner, while to him she still looked very much like a tiny little kitten. “No, I’m not going to use any of your money at all, Jolie. That is your legacy, and it’s meant to last you all of your life if it has to. Besides, it’s all in gold, which is another thing that I thought was odd of Mr. DeForge to do, and once again he’s proved to be much smarter than I. Do you remember what he said that day?”
“About gold? Yes, I do. He said he would hoard it first of all, because it’s the universal currency.” Her smooth brow wrinkled a bit. “I don’t really understand what that part means.”
“It means that the actual value of paper money may rise and fall, and sometimes in emergencies, like a war, it can lose its value. In other words, what you can buy with it can change, and change quickly. One day you may be able to buy a pair of shoes for a dollar, and the next day that same pair of shoes might cost you five dollars. That means that the dollar has lost much of its value.”
“I see,” she said slowly. “But that doesn’t happen to gold?”
“No, never. Gold is precious. Any man, woman, business, state, king, or government will take gold in payment for goods.”
“Then we’d better hoard my gold,” she said soberly. “One day we may need it.”
“I hope not,” he said emphatically, “and I pray not. But I’m going to prepare as if that day is coming, Jolie. Like I’ve promised, I never want you to be afraid again.”
She smiled sweetly. “With you, I’m not afraid, Mr. Tremayne. Now that I know you’ve promised to take care of me, I don’t worry any more. My—father”—she still stumbled over it—“always said that you were an honorable man, and I know that means you keep your promises. So I know I’ll never have to be afraid again.”
CHAPTER TEN
Colonel Robert E. Lee stood in the twilight, still and unmoving. His eyes were focused across the lazy river below him on the city only three miles distant. As he watched, the lights began to glow, thousands of streetlamps and thousands of lamps in the windows of homes and offices. Washington was lit up as if there were a celebration.
But there was no celebration. In spite of the festive appearance, the city buzzed with dark and dangerous business. Men who represented the United States of America were making life-and-death decisions about their rebellious brothers, joined together into the Confederate States of America. And Robert E. Lee was enmeshed in his own momentous struggle.
It was March 1, 1861. Lee had been recalled to Washington from his post in Texas, and he had reached Arlington on this day. He and Mary had talked for hours. As always, he could confide fully in her, and only to her. It helped him to see the way clearly.
Earlier in February he had written to a friend:
The country seems to be in a lamentable condition and may have been plunged into civil war. May God rescue us from the folly of our own acts, save us from selfishness, and teach us to love our neighbors as ourselves.
But no matter how closely Robert E. Lee adhered to these principles, other men did not. He knew now that war was certain.
Wearily he told Mary, “In the event of Virginia’s secession, duty will compel me to follow. We are loyal Americans, Mary, but we are Virginians first. To raise my hand against my home, and my family, would be dishonorable. My heart, my hand, and now to my sorrow, my sword is with Virginia.”
On April 12, 1861, shells burst on Fort Sumter far away in South Carolina. Two days later, the federal fort surrendered to P. G. T. Beauregard, brigadier general of the Confederate States Army. On the following day, Lincoln issued his proclamation to a nation gone mad. He called for seventy-five thousand troops of volunteer militia to “suppress treasonable combinations” and to “cause the laws to be duly executed.”
Lee was still waiting in trepidation, hoping against all hope that Virginia might not secede. He was a simple man with an innocent heart, and he couldn’t see that it was impossible that Virginia would remain neutral. The North and the South were at war. She must choose.
On April 17, he received word from Richmond that the convention had gone into secret session, and he then knew his fate. On that same day he received a letter and a message. The letter was from General Winfield Scott, the general commanding the Federal Army, requesting Lee to call at his office as soon as possible. The message was delivered by one of Lee’s cousins, the young John Lee. Francis P. Blair asked him to call the next day. Blair had been the editor of The Congressional Globe for many years, and now he was a “kingmaker” in Washington.
On the morning of April 18, 1861, Colonel Robert E. Lee called on Francis Blair at his son’s home on Pennsylvania Avenue. Blair received him personally and wasted no time. “Colonel Lee, a large army is soon to be called into the field to enforce the federal law; the president has authorized me to ask if you would accept command.”
For over an hour Blair used all his considerable skills to try to persuade Lee to stay with the Union. Lee remained firm; his course was set.
Of the conversation, he later said, “I declined the offer he made me to take command of the army that was to be brought into the field, stating as candidly and as courteously as I could, that though opposed to secession and deprecating war, I could take no part in an invasion of the Southern States.”
After his interview with Blair, Lee went to General Scott’s office. He had known General Scott for many years, having served under him in the Mexican War. He had always been the old general’s favorite. Without delay Lee told him about Blair’s interview and his answer.
“Lee,” said Scott sadly, “you have made the greatest mistake of your life, but I feared it would be so.”
Lee returned to Arlington and to Mary’s always-comforting presence. He was disheartened and said little except that he had been offered the command and had refused it.
Mary was waiting patiently for him.
“Well, Mary,” he said calmly, “the question is settled. Here is my letter of resignation and a letter I have written General Scott.”
She nodded. “Robert, I know that you have wept tears of blood over this terrible course that the country is set on. But you have made the right decision. As a man of honor and a Virginian, you must follow the destiny of your state. Only I know what this has cost you. Aside from loving you as my own dear husband, I esteem you as an honorable, courageous man. You always have been, and I know that you always will be the best man I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.”
By April 25th, Robert E. Lee was a brigadier general in the Confederate States Army.
Morgan lifted the now-familiar lion’s head knocker, and as usual Nance opened the door. He greeted her then handed her his hat and gloves.
“Mr. Tremayne, Mr. Bledsoe’s waiting to see you in the parlor.”
“He is?” Morgan said with surprise. Leona had sent him a note asking him to call.
“Yes, sir.” The maid offered no more information, so Morgan followed her into the parlor and waited for her to introduce him. “Mr. Bledsoe, Mr. Tremayne’s here, sir.”
“Come in, Tremayne,” Benjamin Bledsoe called out.
Morgan walked inside, feeling awkward at the unaccustomed formality. Normally Leona was waiting for him when he called, alone in the parlor. But he admitted to himself things between them had been very strained since he had taken Jolie as his ward. Somehow he hadn’t been able to tell Leona about her, even though four months had gone by. In fact, he hadn’t seen Leona much at all in those months. And when he did, he knew there was a growing distance between them. He had felt helpless, not knowing how to get close to her again. Morgan was feeling buffeted by many things these days.
Benjamin Bledsoe was standing with his back to a small but warm fire when Morgan entered. He was a tall man with a commanding presence. He had thick silver hair, carefully styled, and a sweeping silver mustache. His eyes flashed sharply at times. Leona was much like him.
“Come in, Tremayne. Sit down, sit down,” he said, waving toward an armchair.
When Morgan sat down, Bledsoe loomed over him in a most intimidating manner. Morgan was sure it was on purpose.
“I need to talk to you, Tremayne. You’ve been scarce around here lately. Leona’s wondered at it. What are you up to these days?” he demanded. It was not a rhetorical question.
“I’ve had some changes in circumstance you might say, sir,” Morgan said with difficulty.
“Not with your business, I hope,” Bledsoe said sharply.
“No, sir. That is…Rapidan Run is doing very well.”
“That’s good, Tremayne. After all, I know that you’re very keen on my daughter, and I would never allow her to waste her time on a pauper.”
“No, sir. I am not a pauper.”
Bledsoe clasped his hands behind his back and stared down at Morgan with narrowed eyes. “Are you aware that Gibbs joined the army last week? He went to Camp Lee in Richmond and volunteered for Jeb Stuart’s cavalry.”
“No, sir, I wasn’t aware. I have heard of Jeb Stuart, though. My brother—”
But impatiently Bledsoe interrupted him. “I would like to know what your intentions are concerning this war, Tremayne. Surely you aren’t still wavering like some of the insipid weaklings I know. Virginia needs all her loyal sons to defend her now. Don’t you believe that?”
“Yes, sir, I do. But there are some things I must do, some affairs I must settle before I can think about joining the army.”
“What can possibly be more important than fighting this war? It’s all going to be over in no time, anyway. Southern men, particularly Virginia men, have more dash and courage than ten Yankees. If they dare to cross the Potomac River, we’ll send them back running like whipped pups!”
Morgan had heard this, and other declarations like it, countless times in the last year or so. “One Southern man can beat three Yankees, five Yankees, ten Yankees. We’re dashing and courageous and brave and valiant, and they are nothing but whelps with no honor. Hurry up and join up, or the war will be over.” Morgan was heartily sick of it.
Now he struggled to keep the distaste out of his voice. “Sir, I’m afraid I can’t completely agree with you there. I believe that it is going to be a long, terrible war, and I believe that people on both sides are going to suffer. Victory is not inevitable, as so many people seem to think, and a quick victory is highly unlikely.”
Bledsoe’s mouth tightened. “So that’s your opinion, eh? And you have more important things to do right now? That makes you look like a coward, Tremayne. I never thought I’d say that. I’ve always regarded you as a sensible, forthright gentleman. But now I’m not so sure.”
“But sir, if I could just explain—” This time Morgan cut off his own words. How could he explain? How could he explain the terrible burden he felt for Jolie, and how bitterly he regretted not heeding DeForge’s warning and preparing himself for war? Since that momentous day of February 5th, Morgan had worked himself half to death trying to make Rapidan Run into a fortress, a self-sustaining stronghold, a place that he could be sure would withstand the desolation of war. Suddenly now he was feeling the weariness that plagued him each day. He finished dully, “It’s just that I have so many responsibilities now. There are some things that I simply must do before I can join the army.”
“Sounds like lame excuses to me,” Bledsoe said. “You’re a single man with a profitable business, and there’s sure no reason it couldn’t continue to be profitable. I know your man Amon has been practically running it for a couple of years now. There are thousands of men, men with wives and families, who haven’t hesitated to join up to fight for their land and homes.” He stopped talking, watching Morgan carefully.
But Morgan could think of nothing to say.
“Well, I know Leona has invited you for supper, Tremayne. I suppose I can forget this unfortunate state of affairs—just this once. But after this, I don’t think you need to see my daughter anymore. You’re not the man that I thought you were.”
“Don’t you think that it’s up to Leona who she sees?” Morgan argued heatedly. “She’s a grown woman, and she makes her own decisions.”
“That she does,” Bledsoe said with grim amusement. “Don’t be surprised if she makes a decision that you won’t like, Tremayne. I know her better than you do.”
The meal was pleasant enough.
Morgan could not take his eyes off of Leona Rose. She wore a rose-colored dress, her favorite color, and the pale alabaster of her shoulders and the rich coloring of her cheeks caused him to stare at her. She rebuked him once saying, “You’re just staring at me, Morgan.”
“Well, a mummy would sit up and stare at you, Leona.”
“Oh, you foolish boy!”
Gibbs Bledsoe said very little during supper. He was wearing the uniform of a cavalryman and proud of it. He was a fine-looking young man with blond hair and blue eyes, slim and handsome. He was an imaginative fellow, full of dreams and often practical jokes. As a matter of fact, Morgan had always been fond of Gibbs.
When they had finished supper and retired to the parlor for after-dinner coffee, however, Gibbs said, “You’ll notice that I joined Jeb Stuart’s cavalry.”
“Yes, I know. My brother Clay tells me he’s probably the finest horseman in Virginia except, perhaps, for General Lee.”
“Yes, he is, and he’s a fighting man, too.”
Gibbs had been drinking wine steadily, and now he said rather rudely, “I’ve always thought you were a good man, Morgan, but I hear talk that you’re not going to support this war.”
Morgan sighed. “As a conscientious man, I do find it hard to suppor
t war.”
“Well, man, what’s holding you back? We’re being attacked. The Yankees are going to send their armies down here. Wouldn’t you defend your native state?”
“It may come to that.”
“It’s slavery, isn’t it?” Benjamin Bledsoe spoke up. “I know you and your family have never had slaves, and that you actually pay your free blacks like employees.”
“That’s true, and yes I’m opposed to slavery. I think it’s a foolish economic system.”
“What do you mean by that?” Gibbs lashed back. “We’ve done very well in the South using slaves.”
“I’m not sure we’ve done all that well, but we could have done better using free labor. Look at it, Gibbs. A good field hand costs as much as three thousand dollars, and he might drop dead the day after you buy him. At the most you might get a few years out of him, and then you’ve lost your capital.”
“There’s no other way to raise cotton.”
“Well, as for that, I think we’re making a mistake.”
“What do you mean? A mistake about what?” Gibbs demanded.
“We’re a one-crop country. Look at the North. I don’t admire many of their manners, but they are inventive. They have shipyards, foundries, factories manufacturing everything from tinned peaches to cannon. We can’t fight those cannons with cotton. And now, with the blockade, I doubt if we can even sell it.”
“We’ll sell it to England.”
Morgan had thought this out a great deal. “Maybe. But how are we going to get anything in? We can’t eat cotton, our horses can’t eat cotton, and we can’t build our houses with it. In two years, we’re going to be hungry, Gibbs.”
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