As time passed, she clung to her sanity by filling her mind with thoughts of those she loved. Myles. Her mother. And yes, she thought of Derek too, praying he’d made it to safety. It seemed like years since he’d held her in those strong, wonderful arms of his, engulfing her with the awesome feeling that as long as he held her, no harm would befall her.
Myles. She could hear the voices of those taunting children as he limped along. “Here comes the gimp…look at the crip! Myles is a gimp-crip!”
He held his head high, those days when they were so young, pretending that the taunts didn’t hurt. But Julie would never let them go unheeded. “You shut your hateful mouths!” she would scream. “He got hurt saving my life. I’ll bet none of you ninnies would save anybody from a wild hog!”
Myles would tell her to be quiet, but she never paid any attention. They were hateful, cruel, all of them, and Myles was ten times the man they’d ever be—and she wanted them to know it.
She thought, too, of her mother, wondering where she was, how she was. Then it dawned on her, there in the smelly darkness, that the only person she didn’t miss, the only one she never thought about, was the man who was supposed to have been her husband—Virgil Oates. Well, she sighed aloud, when she got back home, she’d just have to tell her mother they must find another way to save Rose Hill. She couldn’t marry him. Not now. Not after Derek. Did she love him? She didn’t know. Her mind was so confused, but she was sure of one thing: Derek had awakened a need in her—a need to be loved—and Virgil Oates would never be able to fulfill it.
Julie’s back and shoulders were aching from sitting in one position for so long. Yet she dared not move, for she had no way of knowing what was around her. She could bump into something, make a noise loud enough to bring the matrons and the attendants. And she’d come too far to be discovered now.
Suddenly a thin shaft of light fell across the floor. At the same time, she heard the door above squeaking open. Someone was coming down the steps, and holding a lantern! She would be seen! Dear Lord, where could she hide?
Then she saw the space under the steps, laced with cobwebs, but she wasn’t about to let a spider frighten her now. Quickly she scurried into it. Something crawled across her foot, but she stifled the scream in her throat as she flicked the hairy creature away.
Through the slats of the steps, she could see their feet coming down—a man and a woman.
“This has been a day I hope I never see repeated,” the man was saying. “First that crazy woman dies because she starved herself to death. Then the church ladies come a’calling, and to top it all off—”
“Someone escapes,” the woman finished for him. “I’ll agree. It’s been a rough one. And Miz Brandon is fit to be tied. Nobody saw her leave, not even those drivers who were outside most of the morning. But she got away.”
He snorted. “Not for long. How long you think a loony can run loose, wearin’ a nightgown and booties and with no money? Someone will pick her up and have her back before morning. Just you wait and see.”
“Miz Brandon is going to put her in chains, she says.” The woman sounded pleased over the idea. “She won’t be getting away again. Now if only we didn’t have this dirty task to perform.”
“Miz Brummett told Miz Brandon there was a brooch missing. She wants it found,” he sighed with disgust. “Let’s search her body and be done with it. The undertaker will be here before long.”
Bile rose in Julie’s throat as she peered through the slats and saw Pauline’s body lying on a table, not three feet from where she had been crouched for hours. Swaying, she caught herself, fighting back the scream of revulsion that was struggling to escape from her throat. Not now. No, she’d come too far to lose now.
She watched with repugnance as they yanked off the poor girl’s gown. “How come we just now been told there’s a brooch missing, and she’s supposed to have it?” the woman demanded irritably.
“Seems Miz Brummett’s been out of town visiting relatives. She only got to looking for it after Miz Brandon sent her the message the girl was dead.”
“Here, you fool! Let me do that!” Julie saw the matron shove him aside just as she realized he was probing between Pauline’s stiff legs. “I’ll reach inside her to see if she hid it up there,” she snapped. “You’d probably get your jollies from poking up there, even if she is dead.”
His laugh had a nasty ring. “You like me poking in you, luv, and you’d probably still like it if you was dead.”
“Oh, shut up. I want to hurry and get out of here. This place always gives me the creeps. Smells rotten ’cause of the vegetables stored that go bad.” She shook her head and sounded disgusted as she murmured, “No, it ain’t up there. All right, it’s just gone, that’s all. She probably never had it. She was stripped when she came in. Like all the others.”
“Now we got to put her old clothes on her, the ones she had on when she first come. Miz Brandon said her stepmother didn’t want her taken out in her hospital gown. Seems her father don’t know she was in here.”
The woman picked up the lantern, using its light to guide her to the bag she’d left on the bottom step. Julie recoiled from the illumination that fell across her, and jerked backwards into the huge web of a spider. Apparently babies had recently hatched, for she realized with horror that hundreds of the tiny, scurrying creatures were swarming across her face.
She wanted to shriek, to scream, to slap at her face and hair and run from the loathsome things. But she could do nothing without being discovered. She could only cringe and stiffen, willing herself not to move or make a sound, and let them crawl about.
Once the woman moved away with the lantern, Julie quickly stifled the retching in her throat as she silently, hurriedly wiped her hands across her face, trying to knock the scrambling spiders away.
It seemed to take forever to dress Pauline’s corpse, but finally they stepped back. “That’s it. Let’s get the hell out of here. This place gives me the jeebies too.” It was the man who spoke.
They clumped up the steps together, leaving a curtain of darkness behind them.
Julie moved from beneath the steps, constantly swatting at her face and hair until she was sure she had rid herself of all the spiders. Still, she felt as though her flesh were crawling, there in the blackness with the sound of unseen things skittering about in the darkness—and the knowledge that a dead body was so close.
I’m being silly, she told herself. I have to get my wits about me and get out of here.
She decided she had no choice but to change clothes with Pauline. They were about the same size, and she’d have a better chance of getting away if she was not wearing the hospital gown.
She knew, too, that there was a good possibility she could buy her way out of the city with the diamond brooch still hidden in her bootie. Many times she’d tried to return it to Pauline, but the pitiful girl had been afraid her stepmother would discover it missing, and the matrons would come and search her and find it. Somehow, Julie knew Pauline would not mind if she used it to take herself to safety.
Moving cautiously through the inky blackness, she approached the spot where she remembered seeing the table. When she reached out, her fingertips touched cold marble—Pauline’s face. Squeezing her eyes shut with revulsion, hands shaking as though with palsy, Julie began undressing her. She’d never touched a dead person before, and she kept telling herself over and over there was no reason to be afraid. But the skin felt clammy, unreal, as though it had never been warm or alive; yet she had the overwhelming sensation that at any moment the body would spring to life, and the cold, bony arms would reach out and grab her, enraged that she would rob it of its dress.
She tried to move quickly, but her fingers were clumsy with terror. Finally she had the dress off. For a moment she considered not taking the slips or pantalets, then decided it might be cold outside. It was certainly cold here. So she took everything, her flesh crawling as she removed her hospital gown and clothed herself with the garm
ents of her dead friend.
With the brooch tucked safely inside her bodice, Julie turned to go. But something made her hesitate. Then, slowly, it came to her—even though it was dark, she could picture Pauline lying there naked. She could not leave her friend that way. Groping about on the floor, she retrieved the soiled gown she had just removed.
She felt a sense of satisfaction as she slipped it on the dead girl. Now there might be a chance that Pauline’s father would discover where she had actually been. Her stepmother had given orders for her to be dressed, and she had no reason to think it would not be done. She would not say anything to the undertaker or ask any questions. He would bundle up the clothes she was wearing when he picked her up; they would be turned over to the family, probably to her father, who would settle the matter of the funeral with him. When her father saw the hospital gown, he would ask questions. And maybe, just maybe, Julie thought with her first smile in ages, the cruel stepmother would face retribution for what she’d done to Pauline.
As she made her way slowly up the stairs, she wondered suddenly what they would say had caused Pauline’s death. Starvation, probably, and perhaps it was so, though she suspected the pitiful young thing had just died from a broken heart.
For long moments she stood outside the door, her ear pressed against the wood, listening for any sound that suggested movement. When she was reasonably certain the hallway would be empty, she slowly turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped out.
Quickly, holding her breath, Julie made her way to the front door. It was latched, but she easily slid back the bolt and stepped outside to freedom.
Once she reached the street, she broke into a run, and she did not slow her pace until she was several blocks from the asylum. She decided it must be quite late, because there was no one about. Since she had no idea where she was, she realized there was nothing to be done about getting out of the city until daylight. Creeping about in the shadows, she finally found an old vacant shed behind a stately-looking home, and there she slept until dawn.
By mid-morning she had found a kindly-looking old gentleman with a team of horses who listened to her tale of being stranded in Washington and having to go south at once. “All I have is this brooch with which to pay you,” and she held out the diamond-encrusted pin.
His eyes widened as he lifted it anxiously from her outstretched palm. “Oh, miss, you must be really desperate to get home if you’re willing to part with something this valuable.”
“I am,” she said firmly. “Will you help me?”
He thrust the pin back in her hand and shook his head. “No, I can’t take that. It’s worth much more than my services would cost.”
Her voice cracked. “I don’t care. I’ve got to get out of Washington. I must get home. Please.”
Sighing, he took the brooch once again. “All right. If I don’t take it, you’ll meet up with someone who will. But let me tell you this, if the balls start flying when we get near the fighting, I’m turning my team around and coming back. I’m not about to get myself killed.”
“I don’t blame you for that,” she said quickly. “All I want is for you to get as near as possible to the Confederate lines. Then I’ll walk the rest of the way if I have to.”
“If that happens, I’ll see that you have the necessary funds to purchase a train ticket or rent another wagon,” he assured her. “It’s the least I can do, since you’re parting with such a valuable piece of jewelry.”
Several times along the way they were stopped by Federal pickets inquiring as to their destination. Julie told them in a mock-tearful voice that her father, a brave Union soldier, was being held prisoner by the Confederates in Richmond. The reaction she received was one of deep pity and concern, and they were waved on.
They reached Richmond safely, and the old man pulled out some money and pressed it into her hands. “I can’t risk going farther, ma’am. I hope you understand.”
“Of course I do,” she assured him with a smile. “And I thank you for bringing me this far. You be on your way, and if you’re stopped, just reverse the story I used. Tell the Confederate pickets you’re visiting your son in a Yankee prison.”
“I just wish I weren’t taking your brooch…”
“Please, be on your way. You’ve done me a great favor.” And with one final wave, she left him.
After asking directions, Julie found her way to the train station and purchased a ticket to Savannah, then went into the waiting room, where she spent the night. At least, she thought wearily, she would soon be home. Part of the nightmare was ending.
The trip took almost two days, but soon the train was rumbling into the marshy swamplands of Georgia. As she got closer to Savannah, her heart was thumping excitedly. Perhaps Myles would be there. Oh, God, it was good to be going home!
Her mind wandered once again to Derek. She whispered a silent prayer that he lived, her body trembling as she remembered his words that one day they would meet again.
In Savannah she had no problem finding a driver to take her to Rose Hill. Once she was settled in the carriage, Julie hesitantly asked him how things were going with the war.
“Bad,” he said shortly. “With Fort Pulaski in the hands of them damned Yankees, we’re havin’ a terrible time gettin’ supplies. Cotton rotted in the fields this year, most of it. Lots of the niggers run off to the North, so they ain’t had the slaves to get the rice in. Lots of folk are goin’ hungry.”
As they approached Rose Hill, the landscape a burnished gold in the late autumn sunset, the driver remarked casually, “I reckon Missus Oates’ll be glad to see you, since you say she’s your mother. Talk in town has it that she’s mighty sick, and what with the war and all, I don’t imagine she’s farin’ any better than the rest of us.”
Julie blinked. Something he had said…a mistake, no doubt. “You referred to my mother as Mrs. Oates. I think I misunderstood you.”
“Oh no, ma’am.” He shook his head positively. “You ain’t heard? My, how families do drift apart in time of war. She’s Missus Oates, all right. Married that man from England, the one what walked around full of airs, givin’ folks the impression he had so much money. Well, if you’ll pardon me for sayin’ so, miss, folks are talking about how he ain’t really got nothin’, ’cept what he expects to get from your ma, and if the winds of war don’t blow more favorable to the South, that ain’t gonna be much.”
He talked on, but there was a giant roaring in Julie’s ears, and she clutched the sides of the carriage to steady herself as they bumped along the rutted dirt road. Mrs. Oates—Mrs. Oates—the name kept ringing in her brain like a thousand church bells. It could not be so. Why would her mother marry him? And the driver had said she was sick. Just what was going on at Rose Hill, she worried, a lump of fear constricting her throat.
The driver was still talking, but Julie leaned forward to tap his shoulder and say, “Could you pick up the horses’ canter, please? I’m so anxious to get home.”
He nodded and popped his buggy whip across the horses’ backs.
Julie leaned back against the worn leather seat, shaking. Dear Lord, her heart was screaming, what awaited her at Rose Hill?
Chapter Thirteen
When Sara opened the front doors to find Julie standing on the porch, she burst into hysterical tears, gathered her in her arms, and pulled her tightly against her big bosom. “Lawdy, Lawdy, it is you, Miss Julie. It is!” she cried. “Praise God for answerin’ this tired nigger’s prayers. You done come from providence’s shores.”
The two clung together emotionally, then Julie raised her head and looked over Sara’s shoulder, stiffening at the sight of Virgil posed resplendently on the curving stairway. He wore an elegant red waistcoat, white silk cravat, and black and white striped pants tucked inside shiny ebony boots. One hand touched the bannister lightly; the other was placed on his hip.
Cocking his head to one side, he smiled slightly and said, “Well, this is a surprise. Welcome home, Julie.”
&nb
sp; Sara gasped and jerked away as though suddenly frightened. “I’ll fix tea…” she said nervously, scurrying from the room.
Virgil slowly descended the stairs, and Julie could only stand there, not knowing what to say. It was all so strange—as though she’d been asleep for a long, long time and awakened years later to find herself in a completely different world.
“I know it must have been a terrible ordeal for you,” Virgil was saying, his lips brushing her cheek. “We’ll talk about it all later, but for now, I’m afraid I have to greet you with distressing news. Your mother is quite ill and has taken to her bed. Do you mind terribly if we don’t tell her of your homecoming just yet? I think the doctor should prepare her for such a shock.”
“No, no, that’s fine. I—” Julie shook her head to clear it. So many thoughts and questions racing through her brain. She tried to sort them out. “Mother,” she said quickly. “I want to know her condition. What does the doctor say?”
“Dr. Perkins sees her every day. But come along. Let’s not stand here in the foyer.” He looked over her shoulder toward the open doors. “You have trunks? I’ll get someone—”
“No. No, I have nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have only the clothes you’re wearing?” he asked incredulously.
“It—it’s a very long story, Virgil. I have questions of my own I want answered before we discuss me.”
He led her into the parlor, and she glanced around and saw that everything was as she remembered. A fire was crackling in the grate to ward off the fall chill in the air. She walked over to warm her hands, then turned and faced him. Taking a deep breath, she cried, “All right, Virgil. I want to hear all of it. What is wrong with my mother? Why was my ransom not paid? And why are you now married to my mother?”
He raised both hands in a pleading gesture. “One question at a time, my dear. Now, don’t be angry. You know it was you I wanted to marry, you that I loved—”
Souls Aflame Page 20
