This Rebel Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  Neither of them heard the door open, and did not realize Opal had entered the room till she spoke sharply. "Garnet ! How many times have I told you to keep your personal life to yourself? Julie is our guest, and she doesn't want to be bothered with your mindless chattering."

  "It's all right, really," Julie said quickly. "I'm grateful for the company. I'm miserable shut up here all the time."

  "Are you now?" Opal's eyes began to shine. "That's a pity, because there's no telling when Derek will return. I've known him a long time, and he's very unpredictable. I hate to say this, but he might not even come back."

  Julie jumped, startled. "I felt that way but what makes you say that?"

  Opal shrugged. "Like I said, he's unpredictable. Or maybe unreliable is a better description. I can't tell you how many young girls he's gone off and left, promising to return." She smiled a bit shamefacedly. "I must admit I'm one of them."

  "Y—you?" Julie sputtered. "I—I don't believe it."

  "Oh, it's true. Derek and I had quite a romance going once, but he went away for so long I knew he wouldn't be coming back—at least, not for anything permanent. I settled for seeing him whenever he was in town, but I learned a dear lesson. I don't give my heart—just my love." She looked at Garnet and the two shared a laugh while Julie looked on, hurt as the realization of what Opal said washed over her.

  "Look, dear, we got off to a bad start." Opal sat down beside her on the bed and put a friendly arm around her shoulders. "Garnet can tell you I'm really not a bad sort. Now I feel sorry for you. I know what you're going through. But it isn't the end of the world."

  Julie looked at her hopefully. "You'll let me leave?"

  "Oh, I can't do that." Opal shook her head quickly. "If Derek does come back, he'd have my head. No, I can't let you leave, but I can give you more freedom. Suppose I send Garnet in a little later with a pretty dress for you? You can go downstairs and serve wine and brandy to our clients as they arrive. You can help me be hostess."

  Julie stood up, lips set angrily. "I'm not going to work for you, Opal."

  The older woman laughed once more. "Come now, dear. Do you think I would put you to work? Why, you're too inexperienced. My clients demand the best. But you are lovely, and I thought you might like to mingle and get out of your room. But it's up to you. If you would rather stay here, then so be it."

  Julie looked at her suspiciously, then decided no one could make her go to bed with any of the men, and if she were forced, somehow, Derek would find out... if he came back, she thought painfully, bitterly. "All right," she said finally. "I will do it. Anything is better than being cooped up in this room."

  Later in the day Garnet appeared with a bright satin dress of sunshine yellow. "It'll look nice with that black hair of yours," she bubbled. "I've got some yellow velvet rosettes in case you want to tie back your ringlets."

  An hour later Julie was moving through the parlor, holding a tray from which she served crystal glasses filled with brandy. The men eyed her appreciatively, some with lust, but Opal hovered nearby to make sure they knew Julie was merely a hostess and not one of her girls.

  The parlor began to empty as everyone disappeared upstairs. A few still lingered about, sipping their drinks. Suddenly there was a loud commotion at the door, and Opal rushed to answer the thundering knocks. With a blast of icy wind and gusts of powdery snow, three men burst loudly into the room. Obviously merry from too much to drink, two of them hugged and kissed Opal, and she seemed equally happy to greet them. It was clear to Julie that they knew each other.

  Except for the third man. They all wore the uniforms of officers of some rank, and the one who hung back was tall, attractive, almost regal. But there was something about his eyes, gray and piercing, that made him seem ominous in a way Julie could not define.

  "I haven't seen you boys in months," Opal was saying, her voice at once tinkling and fawning. "I thought maybe you'd found another place you liked better."

  "Not us, you big hunk of sugar cane," came a cheerful response from one of the two who hugged her. "We'd never run off and leave you."

  "We've been out fighting the goddamn war," the other one said. "Thank God, it's gotten so damned cold both sides seem to be holing in for the winter—save for a few diehards skirmishing now and then."

  "Who's your friend?" Opal nodded to the other man. "I don't believe I've met him before. Handsome, too." Her eyes flicked over him with interest.

  He bowed slightly. "Major Gordon Fox, at your service. Let me say I've heard all about you and your establishment, Miss Opal, and I must say you have a fine house. The women are rare jewels of beauty—" his eyes went to Julie, and she glanced away self-consciously.

  Opal noticed his glance and hastened to explain, "She isn't one of my girls, Major. I'm sorry. And I've only got one lovely young thing left besides me. Some of the others should be down before long. We seldom entertain for the entire night, you know."

  When Julie realized she was about to be left alone with Major Fox, she decided to busy herself by refilling the decanters of brandy from the big bottle in the next room. One of the other girls would be down soon she hoped, and then he would be taken care of.

  She wondered why he frightened her. There was something about the way he looked at her, that first moment—his steely gaze. She was behaving childishly, and she silently admonished herself. But that did not assuage the ominous feeling that was tingling up and down her spine.

  "You're spilling some of that, lovely lady."

  Julie turned so quickly that she dropped the crystal glass she was holding. It hit the thick rug, but the stem broke. She started to bend to pick it up, but he was already across the room retrieving the pieces for her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." He smiled warmly. "I was lonely out there and thought perhaps you and I could keep each other company."

  "I—I don't really mingle with the guests," she stammered, trembling involuntarily.

  He noticed, tilting his head to one side and raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "You're afraid of me. Why? Have I done something to offend you? I don't see how I could have—"

  "No, no, it isn't that." She hated the way her voice was so squeaky and nervous. "I don't like being here, you see, and I'm not used to all this, and—"

  "I see." He reached over to take her hand and drew her into the parlor, before the fireplace. She followed, knowing she could do nothing else except make a scene, and that would be ridiculous. After all, he hadn't really done anything that should make her react in such a fashion.

  "Your hands are cold. You stay here by the fire and warm yourself. That's quite a snowstorm we're having out there. I suppose that's why my friends filled themselves with spirits, thinking they could warm their insides against the weather." He laughed, and it was a nice sound. "They'll regret it in the morning. I learned my lesson about over-imbibing as a youth. I know my limitations. Every man should, you know."

  "I—I suppose," she murmured, feeling foolish but not knowing what other comment to make.

  He sat down at the hearth, and his scabbard scraped uncomfortably on the ground. He rose and began to unfasten it from his side. "Would it seem terribly improper for you to at least tell me your name?" he asked.

  "I suppose not," she answered, then told him as she admired his uniform. The coat was gray, with gold cord curling from the elbows to blend into a wide cuff. The stand-up collar bore one star on each side, denoting his rank of major. His belt was black, edged in gold to match the double row of brass buttons down the front of his coat, each engraved with the initials of the Confederate States of America: CSA. The trousers were blue, the shade of the berries that grew in the woods near Rose Hill, and there was a gold stripe down the outside of each leg.

  "You're staring at my uniform," he said.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." She shook her head, flustered, and wished she had just stayed in her room. Then she quickly said, "May I get you a glass of wine? I'm not a very good hostess, I'm afraid."

&nb
sp; He accepted, and when she returned, she took her place beside him, folding her arms about her knees to listen as he told her a bit about the war. She lost track of time, urging him to continue talking, asking questions now and then. Suddenly the sound of laughter from above made them turn their gaze toward the stairway. Opal was coming down with one of the two men who had come in with the major. Julie heard her call him by his name —Jarrett.

  They reached the bottom step, and Opal looked at Major Fox and Julie with a secretive smile on her lips. "I hope you two got along well?"

  "Yes, quite." Major Fox got to his feet. "I find Julie's company quite charming."

  "Well, if you care to wait awhile longer for one of the other girls—"

  "No, we'd best be getting back."

  Opal turned to Jarrett. "And how long before I'll see you again?"

  "Hard to say," he replied. "We never know when we can get leave. They're bringing in more and more of those Yankee bastards every day, and the guards are griping about where to put them. We're stacking them on top of each other."

  "That place is terrible, I hear," Opal clucked sympathetically.

  "Well, prisons usually are," he agreed.

  Julie's eyes widened as she gasped, "Are you speaking of Libby prison? You're there... with the prisoners?" The words erupted from the depths of her anguished heart.

  Jarrett laughed, but Gordon Fox was watching her in silent rumination.

  "We're in no danger," Jarrett said, pulling on his woolen greatcoat. "Those Yankees know our men would just as soon shoot them as look at them—and often do."

  Julie made a whimpering sound as she turned away. Gordon moved quickly to grasp her elbow. "Has something distressed you, my dear? You seem upset."

  "I'm sorry." She shook her head. "I just have a headache, that's all. Excuse me."

  "Of course," he nodded as she hurried up the stairs. "I will see you again."

  But she did not respond as she ran as fast as she dared, blinking back tears. It all seemed so hopeless, so futile. Myles was so near... yet so far.

  Chapter 22

  Opal Bordine frowned as Major Fox swung his booted feet up to prop them on the cherrywood desk. He took out a cheroot and wet it with his tongue before lighting it, ignoring the way she wrinkled her nose in distaste. He lit it, inhaled, and watched the bluish-gray smoke swirl upward.

  "Major Fox," Opal exploded, "you are trying my patience. It's enough that you have come here almost every night for two weeks, drinking my brandy and taking up the time of my hostess, all without remuneration to me, but now you have the nerve to demand my time as well. Get to the point of your visit, please."

  "If you wish to be paid for your brandy, I will be happy to oblige," he remarked coldly. "As for remuneration for time spent, Miss Marshal has not offered her, uh, services to me..." he paused to smile, then added, "nor have I requested them."

  "Get to the point," she repeated.

  He regarded her coolly, then said, "What I'm about to tell you is quite confidential, and should you reveal anything I say, you will be dealt with severely."

  She gasped. "Are you threatening me?"

  He shrugged. "Take it as you wish." He drew on the cheroot, then removed it from his lips and turned it around in his fingertips, staring at the red, glowing tip. Finally, when he was confident that Opal was sufficiently intimidated, he continued. "I am a member of the Intelligence Department of the Confederate Army. Part of my job is to ferret out what I consider suspicious situations that might be a detriment to the security of the Confederacy."

  She was unnerved, and he knew it, as she asked in a shrill voice, "Well, what has that got to do with me and my establishment?"

  "I consider the fact that a beautiful young woman is being boarded here, by a man you will not name, to be highly suspicious. Miss Marshal is obviously a woman of intelligence and good breeding, so why would any man want her kept here? For what reason?"

  He lowered his feet so quickly that they hit the floor with a loud thud and Opal jumped, startled. Leaning forward, his eyes stormy, he pointed the cheroot at her as he ground out the words: "I intend to have the whole story—now!"

  "I—I don't know why he left her here," Opal stammered. "I mean, he didn't give a reason, just said to make sure she didn't run away. He said he'd pay me well when he returned. I thought he'd be back before now. So did she. That's all I know."

  "You know his name," he snapped. "You must also have your own opinion as to why he left her."

  She began to shuffle papers on her desk nervously.

  "You're wasting my time. You would save both of us a great deal of inconvenience if you would cooperate." He leaned back in his chair. "Would you care to go to my headquarters and be questioned there?"

  "No, no!" She slapped her palms down on the desk. "All right. I'll tell you everything I know about him. His name is Derek Arnhardt, and he's a blockade runner. He went to Wilmington to get money. I overheard him telling Julie something about that. As for why he's afraid she'll ran away, I only know what she confided to one of my girls, that her brother is in Libby prison, and Derek has gone to get money to hire men to get her brother out. He's afraid she'll try it without him, because she's so desperate.

  "Please," she begged, "don't let anyone know what I've told you. Derek can be quite mean, and he would be very angry if he knew I had told you all this."

  Major Fox smiled slowly. "You can be assured that our conversation will be kept confidential."

  He rose, nodded a curt goodbye, and left.

  He returned that evening. He watched Julie's every move, as usual. He found in her an ethereal charm, a beauty to behold with her shining black hair and shamrock eyes framed by thick lashes. She was what he wanted, all right, and while he felt she was quite vulnerable, he also had the feeling that she could be quite beguiling when properly motivated.

  Julie Marshal would serve his purpose well.

  * * *

  Finally the room was empty except for the two of them. Julie, perplexed as to why he continued to visit nightly without engaging one of Opal's girls for a few hours of sensual pleasure and frolic, faked a yawn and murmured, "I am quite tired tonight, Major. Would you excuse me if I retired for the evening?"

  Quietly he said, "We need to talk, Julie, about your brother."

  Astonished, she could only stare at him.

  "You heard correctly. I know all about your brother, how he's being held prisoner at Libby. Shall we go upstairs to your room where we can talk privately? Be assured I do not have other motives in mind. I just don't want to take a chance on being overheard down here."

  "But—but how did you know about my brother?" she stammered, allowing him to lead her upstairs.

  "I have ways of finding out what I want to know. Don't concern yourself with that. Just be assured I want to help you, if you will cooperate."

  Heart pounding wildly, she sank into a chair beside the fireplace in her room. Major Fox continued to stand, but she did not trust her suddenly weak knees to support her.

  "Let me begin by saying that you may trust me implicitly. Now, I want you to tell me all about your brother and about this man, Derek Arnhardt."

  Her brain was spinning. She was still stunned by it all. "I—I don't know if I should tell you anything," she gasped, her hand clasping her throat as she stared at him through blurry eyes. "How do I know this isn't a trick? It may jeopardize Myles's life—"

  "As long as he remains in the Black Hole, his life is in jeopardy, my dear. Now do you want me to help you or not?"

  Suspicion was a needle pricking along her spine. "Why would you want to help me?"

  "I have my reasons, but I'll want something in return."

  Her eyes narrowed. "And what might that be?"

  "I work for the Intelligence Department of the Confederate Army. We have need of beautiful and sharp-witted women like you. If I help your brother to escape, then you will return the favor by serving your country in the manner I prescribe."

 
"I don't understand any of this." She was completely baffled. "And if you have influence, why can't you just process Myles's release through normal channels? He was unfairly and unjustly put there to start with—"

  He waved her to silence. "I don't care why he was imprisoned. And you aren't to start asking me a lot of questions. I will tell you that in order to get him out, it must be done quite secretively and made to look like an authentic escape. We can't afford any repercussions."

  Julie stared at him intently, trying to absorb all that he was saying. She was already in a quandary over his frequent visits of the past two weeks—and now this. He was also an attractive man, though she still found that something about him made her apprehensive, almost frightened.

  "Another thing," he continued. "I can't tolerate any questions, because my work is justifiably secret. You either cooperate with me, or we forget the whole matter."

  "And if I refuse?"

  His smile was insidious. "I would hope you would not be so foolish."

  She shook her head slowly. This had all come about so quickly. "I don't know. I can't give you an answer. I have to think."

  "There's no time for that. All you have to do is give me your word that you will work for me, and then your concern for your brother will be over. He'll be freed."

  "He might want me to go with him," Julie pointed out. "We have no family left, only each other. He might not understand my leaving him."

  He raised an eyebrow. "And what was your bargain with this Arnhardt fellow? What did you promise him in exchange for helping you?" He saw her face color slightly and smiled in triumph. "I don't think you have to tell me. I think I know. What do you suppose your brother's reaction would have been to that?"

  She had never really thought of it in that light, but now, looking at the situation, she realized Myles would never have approved of or accepted such an arrangement. There would have been trouble. Perhaps Derek realized that and had decided not to go along with the plan. Maybe that was why she had not heard from him. He might not be coming back, she realized with a pang of terror. Why, she could be forced to remain a prisoner here!