She turned her eyes back down to the doorway as the men’s heavy footsteps approached. Matthew came to the door first, but paused. He glanced over his shoulder, then extended his hand and gestured for George to enter ahead of him. George stepped into the house with a shuffling gate, his legs hindered by the blanket wrapped around him. Annabelle scowled at his socked feet. Pride or no, walking about like that was tempting the death they were trying to stave off.
Once the others were inside, Matthew dropped his pack roll and hurried out to get the horses stalled before the last of the light faded. If the young woman at the door was surprised at the man wrapped in bedclothes, she made no indication of it.
Eudora, however, scowled. “Foolish man! You’ll catch your death walking on those stones without shoes to break the cold.”
George looked at the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”
He endured Eudora’s scrutiny for several moments, and the fact that they were standing about with no one speaking made Annabelle quite uncomfortable. Had the woman already changed her mind? Perhaps she was thinking on how she might contact the lawmen to come after them. Annabelle tried to suppress such thoughts, but found she was entirely unable.
Thankfully, at that moment Matthew tapped on the front door, which the young woman still standing at the ready immediately swung open to let him inside. He must have simply unhitched the horses and stalled them, leaving them for further care until tomorrow. Annabelle was immensely relieved that, for once, Matthew did not spend time checking the horse’s legs and brushing them down.
Eudora clapped her hands as soon as Matthew stepped through the door. “Now that you are all inside,” she said as the young woman slid a firm bolt into place on the door, “we can see you settled. Lilly Rose, show the men the guest quarters so they can get the scrawny one properly dressed. I need to speak with my granddaughter.”
The young woman Eudora called Lilly inclined her head, then lifted her hem to climb the wide staircase at the rear of the entry. Matthew scooped up everything but Father’s bag, which contained Annabelle’s and Peggy’s personal things, and the men followed along behind her.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Eudora turned and let her gaze fall on Peggy. “I do not accept slaves in my house,” she said flatly.
Annabelle bristled. She was tired of Peggy being treated so poorly. When the slaves of Rosswood had run, Peggy proved her love once again and had stayed at Annabelle’s side. She didn’t know what would have become of her without Peggy’s gentle guidance and steady strength. She didn’t care if Grandmother was the only help available, she would no longer tolerate ill treatment of Peggy.
“I will not see her cast from the house,” Annabelle said, her words fortified with determination. “She is a person, and deserves to be treated with the respect due any human formed from God’s own breath.”
Eudora looked positively shocked, but not nearly as surprised as Peggy, who opened her mouth to protest. Annabelle held up a hand. “No, Peggy. This has happened enough. Each place we go, they sneer at you, disregard you, and tell you to go to the kitchen. I’ve had enough, and I’ll stand for it no more.” She turned flashing eyes back on her grandmother, too fired with frustration to care about the consequences of her words. “If you put Peggy out, I will go with her.”
To Annabelle’s utter amazement, her grandmother’s face split into a wide grin. “Well, look here, a little abolitionist of my own, right up from the bowels of the South. Imagine that.”
Peggy’s jaw hung limp, and it was several seconds before she regained enough composure to snap it closed. Annabelle was dumbfounded. “What?”
Eudora’s features softened. “Girl, when I said I would not have a slave in my house, it did not mean that I wanted you to put the woman out. It was because I will not tolerate one human owning another under my own roof. All people get treated the same here.” She smirked. “Whether they like it or not.”
“Oh,” Annabelle squeaked out. “I’m sorry.”
Eudora laughed, a genuine sound that came from deep in her chest. “Don’t be, child. I’m beyond pleased to see you feel as I do.” She turned to Peggy. “Do you wish to stay with Annabelle, or have a room of your own?”
Peggy blinked at the other woman, then shrugged. “I’s happy as long as I’s close to her.”
“Very well. Now, let’s get you two into your rooms to get unpacked and then I’ll have Lilly find you all something to eat.”
Without another word, she turned to go up the stairs, leaving Annabelle and Peggy to follow along behind her in awed silence.
“We agreed on a first rate cipher to send by telegraph, so that we might know what each other was doing, without letting anyone else into the secret.”
John Surratt
George readjusted the blankets that kept tumbling down around him like a woman’s dress and wondered how ladies could walk about with so much fabric to entangle their legs. He clenched his teeth, caught somewhere between humiliation over his condition and pure joy that both he and his brother had lived long enough to find themselves reunited.
Though he certainly had a mountain of questions for his little brother, including why they were deep in Union territory and why Matthew had apparently deserted the Confederacy. He didn’t want to believe that his brother had run, but he could find little other explanation for Matthew’s plain clothes and unfettered travel.
They slowly ascended the staircase, and he fought off his annoyance with Matthew’s constant gaze by flashing him a grin. Despite the cursed weakness in his limbs, he felt more alive at this moment than he had in weeks.
Lilly paused at the landing to retrieve a lantern. When she touched flame to wick, light glowed warmly around them, revealing that the hallway that extended in both directions ran a great length and likely opened onto several rooms.
She turned toward the hall on the right, and George watched the hem of her dress slide across the carpeting as she stepped away. He hurried to be the first one behind her, digging his toes into the softness. The thick, ornate rug squished under his socks, giving his calloused feet more cushion than he’d felt in a long time. Better still, the wide carpeting was a welcomed reprieve from the cold stone floors below. He would never admit it to Matthew, but his frozen toes almost made him regret his insistence that he walk on his own.
Lilly held up the light, and George let his eyes drift up from the hem of her deep, almost golden yellow gown to the large black bow tied neatly about her trim waist. He thought about what her hair would look like if it were allowed to fall from its pins and drew up short. What was he doing? He drew a deep breath and looked away from her.
Dressed too finely for a maid, George found it odd that this lady took orders from the old woman as if she were a servant. But then, the elderly woman had a tongue like a dagger, and everyone likely jumped at her command. Lilly paused to hang the lantern on a hook mid-way down the hall, then swished away again without even turning to look at them.
George and Matthew followed her down the hallway until Lilly stopped to open the last door at the end and retrieved another lantern from just within. She produced a match from a hidden pocket of her gathered skirt and turned up the wick, bathing her face in warm light. Her skin had a deep glow to it, so different from the ivory skin of the ladies he was used to.
She inclined her head toward the room, and George had to pull his gaze up from the long curve of her slender neck. When he met her eyes, she frowned at him, the pull of her delicate brows putting her displeasure on display. When he smiled at her, she only deepened her frown and turned away, gesturing toward the room.
“One of you gentlemen can take this room, and the other one take the room directly across the hall. I will come get you when we have something warmed for you to eat.” She leveled her focus on Matthew. “I trust you can build the hearth in both rooms?” At his nod, she continued. “They have not been used in quite some time, but there should be wood enough at least for tonight.”
“Ye
s, miss. Thank you,” Matthew replied.
Without sparing either of them another glance, she replaced the lamp on a small table just inside the door and slipped from the room. George watched her go, the gentle sway of her movements nearly hypnotic. He glanced back at Matthew and found him scowling. “What?”
“You shouldn’t look at her that way.”
George gaped at him. “Since when is my brother offended by admiring beauty? I wasn’t looking at her in any way ungentlemanly.” Though even as he said it, he could feel heat crawling up his neck.
Matthew’s shoulders were tight as he pushed his bulk past George, who was still standing in the doorway. “So you say,” he scoffed. “I’ll get your fire going while you get out of that dress.”
George balked. As Matthew stomped past him, George let the blanket fall from his shoulders as he swung a half-hearted punch at Matthew’s arm. The younger man laughed and sidestepped before George’s blow could find meat, and George stumbled off balance. Matthew’s fingers clamped down on his shoulder and righted him before he could fall. He looked up into Matthew’s eyes and relished the humor he saw there, any frustration he had felt at Matthew’s comments melting away.
But Matthew’s humor suddenly dissipated, replaced by the serious glare he’d seen too often since they had joined the war. Matthew stared down at him, a good five inches taller than George, even though George was the elder. He gave George’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “You’re nothing but skin stretched over bone, brother.”
George shrugged and moved out of Matthew’s grasp, stepping over to close the door before someone came down the hall and found him standing about in his drawers. “It’s nothing a few good meals won’t fix,” he replied, forcing more levity into his tone than he really felt. Prison had been hard, in more ways than just the gnawing hunger, but he would not add to his brother’s worry by telling him so. He didn’t know if either of them would ever really return to the men they’d been before the Northern Aggression.
Matthew responded only with a sad smile and plodded across the room to the hearth on the wall. In a few moments he had a fire blazing. George pushed aside his weariness in the same manner he had learned to push away his hunger and stretched his hands toward the growing flames. Already the fire was beginning to chase the chill from the room. George suppressed a shiver, not wanting Matthew to think him catching cold again.
“Right nice place, here,” George said, turning away from the flames and untying Matthew’s pack. He fished around until he found his threadbare pants. He hated to put on rags in the company of such fine folks, but he had little option. At least the rain seemed to have pulled most of the smell from his clothes. They were cleaner than they’d been in weeks.
He pulled on his trousers and took in the tall, four-poster bed, complete with bed curtains that could be used to surround the mattress and keep in the warmth—or foil summer insects seeking to feast on the flesh. He ran his fingers over the soft material of the blankets covering what he guessed would be a feather mattress and swallowed down his guilt. His brothers in arms would be spending another night in freezing temperatures sleeping on the hard, damp ground and hoping they didn’t wake up to blackened toes with the dawn.
“I couldn’t get them all out,” Matthew said at his back, as if reading George’s very thoughts.
George nodded and stepped past Matthew to warm himself by the crackling fire again. Even the sounds of popping wood and the faint scent of smoke was a luxury he had nearly forgotten. “This I know, brother. I am amazed you ever found me.”
Matthew took a place next to him, both keeping their backs to the fire. “That is something we can thank Miss Ross for. It was she who discovered which prison they had taken you to.”
“Would this be the daughter of Elliot Ross, the man our father wanted to partner with in brick-making?”
“It is.”
George turned his head to look at his brother’s profile, which seemed oddly tense. “And why is she with you, Matthew?”
Matthew stood silent a moment before appearing resigned. “Her grandfather was trying to force her to marry her uncle.” George’s eyes widened at the atrocity, but before he could make comment, Matthew continued. “An uncle by marriage only, and not by blood. Andrew, I believe. But even still, this grandfather by marriage sought the union only to be sure his son would take over the plantation and rob Miss Ross—or her father’s blood brother, if she did not marry—of their family lands.”
George thought on this a moment. “I see. A difficult situation for her, I am sure.” Though not an uncommon one, George added to himself. “Even so, this still does not explain her traveling with you, or why you and I are here with her Yank kin. As I am sure you can understand, I find all of this rather strange, and more than a little confusing.”
Matthew chuckled, but it seemed more rueful than amused. “I fear it will only become more so as the tale unfolds.”
George waited, but Matthew seemed in no rush. “Well, man? Out with it,” he said at last.
Matthew prodded at flames that didn’t need tending before finally speaking again. “It was evident that the grandfather had struck her, so I took her under my protection and removed her from Rosswood.”
George nodded. He would have done the same. “So that is why she is with you.”
“Yes.”
“But how did you even discover such a thing? Were you on furlough?” He felt as though he were trying to extract information like a miner chipping the ore from a vein.
“Well, not exactly….” Matthew trailed off again, and George started to get irritated.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Matthew sighed, then launched into a tirade of slippery words that tumbled from his mouth like gushing water. “I was on perimeter duty when this girl showed up with an incorrect countersign and then got taken in. O’Malley had promised me he had a way I could get you back, and he thought the girl was one of their secret group. So I had to get her out. Then we were on the run, because Lieutenant Colonel Hood thought she was spy and they would have strung me up for releasing her. But, then she got away from me. I thought she was Miss Smith, you see, but the shopkeeper said she was Miss Ross, and I had to find out. So when I went to Rosswood and heard the old man strike her, I decided I had to take her with me to Washington so that….”
George held up his hand, bringing Matthew to a halt. “Wait. Miss Ross, who you thought was Miss Smith, came to the perimeter while you were on duty there?”
“Yes, because I got shot in the calf and couldn’t do much else.”
“And then she was taken in as a spy?” George ran his hand through his hair, wondering if he would ever get this web untangled. He turned and placed his hands toward the flame, relishing the warmth that radiated from the hearth and trying to get his mind to concentrate on his brother’s highly confusing words.
“Yes, because she had some kind of coded message.”
George cocked his head. “So she truly was a spy?”
Matthew’s jaw muscles clenched in that way they always did when his brother became vexed. “No!” He drew a long breath. “I’m sorry.”
George simply shrugged.
“She was given the note by a soldier who had been under her care before he died. We suspect he was the real spy. She only delivered it because she was hoping to use the army to get a message to her blood uncle. She didn’t have any idea what she carried. The spy used her.”
George tried to digest the tale, though it sounded more like a fable born of the mind. “I see. What did you say made you decide to release a suspected spy from custody?”
“O’Malley,” Matthew spat the man’s name as if it were a curse. “He had all these contacts, and he said that they would be able to help me find you and get you back.”
George nodded. “As you said.” Though he still couldn’t paint the picture of O’Malley as anything more than a common soldier in his mind.
Matthew continued, “All I had to do w
as go along with some hair-brained scheme they had. They thought they could leverage the Union to reopen the prisoner exchange.”
The tale seemed to become more outlandish the longer Matthew spoke. He eyed his brother. “Are you speaking true, or is this one of your jests where you will point to me as the fool in the end?”
When they were young, his brother had always exaggerated his tales with the ladies or had come up with wild stories to gain everyone’s ear. George had often been the only one to believe him. It had taken years to realize the boy only sought the attention he was often denied.
Matthew shook his head vigorously, and his eyes begged George to believe him. “I swear it on my life, brother. These are no jests.”
Seeing the earnestness on his face, George nodded. “Very well. But, what kind of plan could they possibly have that would carry such weight?”
“They were going to abduct Lincoln, and hold him ransom in Richmond.”
The words lingered in the room for a moment and George turned fully to search his brother’s eyes for signs of the coming laughter at his gullibility. But still he found only sincerity there, and that disturbed him greater still. “Surely you cannot be serious.”
“I once thought the same, but it is true. There is a group of them. I don’t know how many, but they have a long reach. They do, indeed, have contacts deep into the Union and had plotted out a detailed plan. That was why I went to Washington. O’Malley promised if I helped to take Lincoln, he would see to it that you were the first prisoner released with the ransom.”
George clapped his hand on Matthew’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You risked much for me.”
“Indeed, brother. You and I are all that remains of our family, and it was my fault you were taken. I would have done anything in my power to keep you alive.”
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 40
