by Gwen Bristow
“Why, nothing,” she returned. “I couldn’t sleep. Luke, where did Colonel Marion go just now?”
Luke’s hand closed on hers. She felt that he could have snapped her fingers like toothpicks. When he spoke his voice was low but it had a force like cannon.
“You never saw Colonel Marion in your life,” he said, “except once when he fell out of a window on Tradd Street.”
“Oh, all right!” Celia retorted. “What do you think I am, a Tory spy? I won’t say anything if I should run into Cornwallis, or Tarleton—Tarleton—” Her voice cracked. With her free hand she covered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Luke. But I’m so torn up. Maybe you haven’t heard—” Her throat closed and she could say no more.
“Yes I have,” said Luke. He was suddenly very gentle. His grip on her hand relaxed. He drew her to sit again in the big chair, and he sat on the chair-arm beside her. Celia spoke again.
“I didn’t mean to cry. I thought I was through with crying. I’m all right now.”
Luke stroked her hair softly. “Celia, Jimmy is in God’s hands. And so are you, and so am I. That’s all I can tell you.”
There was a pause. In the close dusty air Luke had a smell of the woods about him, redolent of earth and leaves and grass, what she had always thought of as a “green smell.” Celia turned in the chair so she could speak to him directly. “Luke,” she said, “I didn’t see anybody tonight. Not you, not anybody. I won’t tell.”
“I know you won’t,” he said.
Again there was a silence. Celia liked sitting here with him. After a while she ventured, “Luke—Colonel Marion—” She hesitated.
“What about him?”
“He’s very important, isn’t he?”
“He sure is,” said Luke. Celia could not see the expression of Luke’s face, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “I guess,” added Luke, “Colonel Marion’s about the most important man within a thousand miles.”
Celia exclaimed, “But—he’s so puny!”
Luke laughed softly in the dark. “Honeychild,” he said to her, “when that man’s leading a charge, he looks nine feet tall.”
She supposed he was right. The men who had served with Marion all seemed to think of him that way. Luke went on,
“The British are combing the country for him. As long as he’s at liberty we’re not licked and they know it. He has to slip around like a puff of smoke. Always moving.”
“Who’s the colored man?” she asked.
“That’s Buddy. His name is Oscar, but Colonel Marion calls him Buddy so the rest of us do too. They grew up together.”
Like Jimmy and Amos, thought Celia, and the memory gave her a twinge of pain. She was glad when Luke spoke again.
“Celia, how long have you been sitting here? How much have you heard?”
She told him. He ignored her mention of the wall, but when she said their footsteps had approached from the back he said,
“That’s right. Good ears. Mother always leaves me something to eat—I won’t say where—so whenever I’m in the neighborhood I can creep in and get a meal.”
“Do you want me to call Vivian?” she asked.
“No. I’ve left her a message. And I’ll be grateful if you don’t tell her you’ve seen me. It might worry her that I didn’t have sense enough to explore this room before I let Colonel Marion come in.”
“I won’t tell,” Celia said again.
But she wondered how long he could go on like this, he and Marion and their friends. Hiding, whispering, moving by night like spooks.
“Luke, tell me really,” she begged, “is there any chance for the rebels now?”
“Yes, plenty,” said Luke. He spoke with conviction. “Some things I can’t tell you. But this much I can: there’s a rumor—I don’t know if it’s a fact, we’re trying now to find out—there’s a rumor that General Washington has sent us a force from his main army. They’re supposed to be on their way.”
Celia could almost feel hear heart leap. Luke went on.
“If it’s true, of course Colonel Marion will offer his services to the officer in command. So will I. I’m tired of running.”
Celia thought what it would mean to know the British were gone, the country safe from more horrors like Bellwood. With a hopeful sigh she leaned back. Her head brushed Luke’s arm, which lay across the back of the chair, and she felt him wince. She sat forward. “Are you hurt, Luke?”
“Scratched up a little. Moncks Corner, and another scrap at Lenud’s Ferry. Almost well now. Mother has been bandaging me up.”
Celia wondered where they had been seeing each other. No doubt in that space behind the wall, whatever it was. But Luke was not going to talk about that and it was no use asking him. She thought of Marion’s lameness, and asked, “How are you getting around?—he can hardly walk.”
“Horses. Back in the woods.”
“You still have Jerry?”
“Not since Moncks Corner. I shot him myself before we ducked into the swamp. No man of Tarleton’s was going to have Jerry. The governor gave me another.”
She felt herself smiling as she asked, “And I suppose you gave him some crazy name out of the Bible?”
“Sure. His name is Bill.”
“Bill? There’s nobody in the Bible,” exclaimed Celia, “named William!”
Luke chuckled. “Bill, short for Bildad the Shuhite.”
“Who?”
“Bildad. In the Book of Job.”
Celia began to laugh. It did not occur to her until later that this was the first time she had laughed since Jimmy died. Luke stood up, saying he had to leave now.
She stood up too. “I’m glad I had a chance to talk to you, Luke,” she said. “It’s done me good.”
“If that’s so, I’m glad too. And I want to tell you one thing more.” Taking her hand in his again, he spoke with low-voiced assurance. “Celia, you haven’t lost everything. You have plenty left.”
She shook her head. “Like what, for instance?”
“Yourself,” said Luke. Again she shook her head. He went on, “Jimmy used to talk about you a lot. He was proud of you. He said you had gumption.”
“I haven’t got any gumption,” she said wearily.
“If you hadn’t,” said Luke, “I don’t think Jimmy would have liked you. And if you had gumption before, you’ve got it still. All you need is to use it.”
His words had a bracing effect. “Thank you, Luke,” she said. “I’ll try.”
“And now,” he said, “go upstairs, as softly as you came down. Go to your room. Don’t try to see me leave.”
Celia promised. She went out, up the stairs, and into her room. She shut the door silently.
In the closed room downstairs she had not noticed it, but here the air was fresher than it had been before. A breeze had started. Beyond the window the moss was swinging, the leaves were fluttering with a sound like the clapping of little hands. Celia took a deep breath, and stretched, and yawned. She went back to bed and to sleep.
The next day was clear and windy. Celia worked the flowers, but all morning she looked for a chance to go into the ballroom. After a while, when Herbert and Vivian set out for a walk, she thrust her trowel into the earth and hurried in, to examine the wall by the fireplace.
The paneling was oak, each panel about eight feet high and two feet wide and carved in a rectangular design. The structure was ingenious: every alternate panel stood out about an inch farther than the one on either side of it. Evidently one of the panels was made so it would slide across its neighbor, thus making a door. And this must lead to some exit from the house, letting Luke and Marion come and go in secret. How it was done she could not discover. But Vivian and Herbert were providing them with food, and maybe they were also acting as a center of information—Luke had said he had left a message. No wonder they had refused to go to Charleston.
Celia pressed her lips together tight. There was not much she could do to help get rid of the redcoats, but she could keep
her mouth shut. She went back to the flowers.
CHAPTER 20
THAT AFTERNOON, ROY AND Sophie made a call at Sea Garden.
They came in a rowboat with a maid and manservant, and two other Negroes who helped with the rowing. Roy announced their arrival in the usual way by ringing the bell at the boat-landing, and waited until Herbert and one of his men rode to the landing to see who the visitors might be.
Gracious and charming, Roy begged that Mr. Lacy would forgive the trouble he was causing. Nothing but necessity would have made him intrude this way. But Sophie was expecting a baby, and she needed special consideration.
Roy explained that he had been serving as clerk and guide to a British officer, Major Edmore. They had been in Charleston, but recently Major Edmore had been put in command of a force that was now on its way by ship to a post on the north bank of the Santee. As Roy had to go along, he had obtained permission for Sophie to go too.
They had started early this morning and had hoped to finish their journey by dark. But the British sailors, not familiar with the sea islands, had not moved as fast as they expected, and now they had been forced to tie up for the night. Sophie and her maid were the only women on board, and the ship had no place fit for them to sleep. So, as they had tied up in the mouth of the little stream that led to Sea Garden, Roy had borrowed one of the ship’s boats, hoping the Lacys would be kind enough to give his party a night’s lodging.
His request could hardly be refused. Herbert ordered that a cart be brought to carry Mr. and Mrs. Garth and their servants to the house.
When she heard the names of the guests Celia fled to her room. But she had not been there long when she heard a knock, and Vivian came in. Closing the door behind her Vivian said, “I expect you to come to supper, Celia.”
Celia shook her head.
“You’re going to have to get used to facing people,” said Vivian. “You might as well start.”
Celia felt a wondering respect. Last night she had learned that Sea Garden was a refuge for Francis Marion. Roy was a Tory fawning for British favors. Vivian must be terrified, but she gave no sign of it. Celia thought, She doesn’t know I know about Marion. Maybe that’s better. We have to put on a brave front for each other. “Did you,” she began—“did anybody tell Roy about—Jimmy?”
“No details,” Vivian said kindly. “I suppose our servants will tell his, but I hope Roy and Sophie don’t hear it until they’ve left.” She went on to explain. Learning that Celia was a guest of the Lacys, Roy had asked assiduously about her welfare. Herbert had told him briefly that her fiance had been killed in the war. Roy had said he was sorry to hear it.
“I bet he’s sorry,” Celia snapped. “He’s sorry he’s lost a chance to get a connection with a prominent family. Vivian, do I have to—”
“Yes,” said Vivian. Celia thought of what Luke had said last night about Marion. Right now, Vivian too had an air of being nine feet tall.
A little later Marietta came to call her to supper. Marietta said, “Your kinfolks sure are nice, Miss Celia. Mr. Roy, he said he was sorry to be making extra trouble, and he slipped all the house-folk silver money.”
She held out her hand to show an English shilling. It had been a long time since Celia had seen one, and she felt angry to see it now and be reminded that American dollars were no good anymore.
But the evening was easier than she had expected. Roy was, as Herbert had described him, gracious and charming. Sophie, though her figure was clumsy, had as pretty a face as ever and was evidently doing her best to be agreeable. When Celia came downstairs they gave her a few words of sympathy about her loss, then tactfully dropped the subject.
Celia was glad to observe that Vivian had not fancied up her supper. The table was attractive, with its fresh cloth and bowl of flowers, but no more so than usual; and the meal was what Vivian had planned to serve, cold meats and hot cornbread, pitchers of buttermilk and platters of summer fruit. Vivian asked Sophie what it was like in Charleston now.
Sophie said it was very gay. There were so many British officers in town, and delightful men they were. Some of them were sons of noblemen, Sophie exclaimed with joyful awe. Everybody was having picnics, dinners, balls—in fact, there were so many entertainments, and so many extra men, that some girls went to several parties every evening, staying just long enough at each for a dance or two.
Listening, Celia felt sick. That brave defense forgotten. The defenders locked up on prison-ships while the girls danced with the enemies. The whole town gone Tory. Everybody licking the boots of the conquerors.
She wondered how Herbert liked hearing all this, with his beloved Tom on a prison-ship in Charleston harbor. Glancing at him, she saw only a courteous host attending to the wants of his guests. She marveled at his self-possession and Vivian’s, and did her best to seem as poised as they were. But she was glad she had never been a chatterbox, so if she could not talk now they would think nothing of it.
Roy and Sophie seemed to be enjoying their supper. Roy was just asking Herbert if these delicious figs and peaches came from his own trees.
Herbert said yes, and went on to ask Roy more about how things were in Charleston.
Roy said the town had never been more prosperous. Any man who wanted a job could get one at good pay. The stores were open and you could buy anything you wanted. When the British came in, a number of British wholesale merchants had come too, bringing every sort of goods, which they had sold to Charleston storekeepers.
Sophie said that after the half-empty stores of wartime it was such a joy to have plenty of nice things again. While they were in Charleston she had had some lovely clothes made for her expected baby. At Mrs. Thorley’s, of course. Oh yes, Mrs. Thorley’s shop was open and everybody was so glad of it. Celia felt a pinch at her heart. Last summer it had been Audrey who ordered baby-clothes from Mrs. Thorley’s.
When they finished supper Herbert asked Roy if he would care for a glass of brandy. Celia went with Vivian and Sophie into the parlor.
The summer sun was a long time setting. Sophie chattered, telling Vivian how grateful she was for this hospitality. “You’ve given us a beautiful room,” she exclaimed.
Vivian replied that she hoped they would be comfortable. It was a shock, she knew, to be unexpectedly benighted on a journey.
“It’s really Roy’s fault,” Sophie said with a giggle. “He told Major Edmore we could make the whole trip in a day, and he should have known better. I told him we couldn’t, I said we ought to make some provision for spending the night on board. But you know how men are, they won’t take advice from a woman. So now we have to inconvenience you.”
Vivian assured her that it was no inconvenience. They had plenty of room, and they enjoyed hearing the news from Charleston.
With the skill of a practiced hostess she encouraged Sophie to go on talking. Celia did her best to keep her face blank, but her thoughts were almost shouting. Roy meant to get delayed here. What does he want?
Roy and Herbert came in. Roy asked if he might take Sophie for a stroll. She needed regular walks and she had had no chance for one today.
They went out. A moment later they could be seen in the sunset afterglow, sauntering under the trees.
Herbert took the place Sophie had left. There was a brief silence. Now that Herbert and Vivian were letting themselves relax, both their faces showed lines of strain.
Celia spoke abruptly. “Vivian—I want you to know, I heard what she said.”
Herbert glanced questioningly at Vivian, who told him, “You were right. Sophie is too simple-minded to guess it, but it looks as if Roy got stranded here on purpose.”
“You were right?” Celia repeated. “How did you know?”
“Well, it is a long trip, too long for one day,” Herbert returned, “and also—” he smiled shrewdly—“dear child, no honest man needs to be that charming.”
Vivian had dropped her head on her hand. Celia thought a lesser woman would have been having hysterics abou
t now. She herself could guess how important the secrecy about Luke and Marion must be, since Vivian had not taken even Godfrey into her confidence. And they could not have gone very far since last night.
The dusk was gathering. Roy and Sophie came indoors, and to Celia’s relief Roy said that as they had to start early in the morning they would go early to bed.
When Celia had undressed and blown out her candle, she opened her bedroom door carefully. The hall was even darker than it had been last night, for the moon had not yet risen. Vivian had given Roy and Sophie a room across the hall. Under their door Celia could see a line of light. While she watched, the light disappeared.
She waited and waited. Everything was quiet. They must have gone to bed and to sleep. At last she went back into her room, leaving the door ajar so she could hear if Roy started spooking around outside. She lay down in bed, but she did not feel sleepy.
All of a sudden it was morning. Celia blinked, and raised herself on her elbow. She had been so certain she was going to stay awake, at least until the small hours after midnight. But after her long wakefulness of the night before she had been more tired than she had realized. Her door still stood ajar as she had left it. Maybe Roy had not stirred from his room in the night, but he was certainly stirring now. This was what had waked her. It was early, the sun just appearing, but Roy was making ready to leave. She heard him in the hall, telling Sophie’s maid to carry something, and his manservant to carry something else. Celia sprang out of bed and hurried to get dressed. She wanted to see them go.
As he had been yesterday, Roy was smooth and charming. Sophie prattled—she was so very grateful, they must come to see her sometime, where on earth had she put her scarf, dear dear she hardly knew what she was doing, she wasn’t used to being up at this hour and she was only half awake.
Vivian said she quite understood, she wasn’t used to being up so early either. Vivian was calm as always, but she did not look well. Her face was drawn, and there were shadows under her eyes. Celia guessed that she had spent last night guarding that secret entrance to the ballroom.
