The Beguiled

by Thomas Cullinan

  Somehow we managed to lift him off the floor and then we struggled down the hall with him toward the first floor stairs. Those of us who were walking backwards had the worst time of all because there always was the danger of our tripping on the skirts of our night dresses. Well, just at that moment, Miss Alice Simms came shyly out of her room on to the third floor landing.

  “Is there anything at all I can do to help?” she called down.

  Miss Martha and the rest of us ignored her. We were so out of breath from our burden that I doubt we could have answered her anyway, even if we had wanted to. Taking courage now, Alice came down her stairs and trailed along behind us.

  “I was just so shocked and shaken by my experience,” she said, “that I could hardly bring myself to leave my room.”

  “Is that so, Miss?” Miss Martha panted.

  “Yes. I was asleep, you see, when he came upstairs.”

  “Were you indeed?”

  “Oh yes,” said wide-eyed Alice. “It was terrible the way he rushed in there. I was just about frightened half to death when I saw him, and then Edwina came up there and began fighting with him. Edwina pushed him down the stairs.”

  “We didn’t suppose he had jumped,” said Miss Martha.

  “What in the world do you suppose Johnny wanted up there in your room, Alice?” Marie asked her.

  “How should I know?” answered the innocent one.

  “I thought maybe he had told you,” said Marie. “I thought perhaps some moments might have elapsed between the time he rushed into your room and terrified you like that, and Edwina’s coming upstairs to get rid of him for you.”

  “Be quiet, all of you,” Miss Martha ordered. “Attend to your business here.”

  We finally managed to reach the stairway to the first floor with our precious package and we just dropped him there for a moment while we all took our well-earned rest.

  “I don’t see how we’re ever going to carry him all the way down those stairs, sister,” fretted Miss Harriet.

  “It will be difficult,” Miss Martha admitted. “And we can’t afford to drop him. I don’t think your friend could tolerate another fall.”

  “He doesn’t have to be carried, does he? Why couldn’t he be lowered on a rope or something,” I suggested.

  “Now that isn’t a bad idea of Emily’s,” said Marie. “What we could do is tie him up and slide him down very slowly on his back. We wouldn’t hurt him much if we were careful.”

  “Where would we get the rope?” Miss Harriet wondered.

  “There’s old rope in the barn, ain’t there?” said Mattie. “And a lot of old harness too. Harness might be better for what you want.”

  “Go and fetch it,” Miss Martha instructed her. “But be quick about it—otherwise we won’t have any need of it.”

  “Still, we’ll have to get him downstairs some way, even if he does die,” reflected Alice as Mattie went off as speedily as she could on her old bare feet.

  “But he’s not going to die,” Amelia cried. “That’s a fine way for Alice to talk anyway, after the way she and Edwina have been lolly-gogging around him and pestering him and encouraging him to do the Lord only knows what all!”

  “That’s exactly right,” her roommate Marie shouted. “It’s Alice and Edwina who always cause all the trouble here and other people get blamed for it. I say Alice and Edwina should be confined in their rooms without dinner for one month each!”

  “Be silent, all of you,” commanded Miss Martha. “I’ll set the punishments here. I will only say now that no matter what happens to Mister McBurney, there will be no more episodes like tonight’s. And I intend to find out the truth about that as soon as possible.”

  “Nothing happened,” Alice said beginning to sob. “I swear to the Lord nothing very much happened, Miss Martha, or nothing very bad anyway. Just like I said, he came to my room and right after that Edwina threw him down the stairs.”

  “All the same, it might be interesting to hear McBurney’s version of it,” I said. “Of course, if he dies, we’ll just have to depend on Alice’s and Edwina’s word, won’t we?”

  “But I don’t want him to die,” Alice protested tearfully. “Miss Martha make these girls stop saying I want Johnny to die!”

  “Be quiet . . . be quiet, all of you, or go to your rooms,” Miss Martha ordered. “It’s like bedlam here!”

  But the weeping continued unabated. I believe everyone present was weeping with the exception of Miss Martha and myself and possibly Marie, who seemed to be yelling more than sobbing, and, of course, McBurney, who was doing nothing at all but lying there, limp as an old rag and pale as parchment. Reconsidering it, he really mustn’t have been shamming after all because not even the greatest charlatan in the world could have lain there quietly through all that racket unless he was unconscious.

  After a bit Mattie returned with an armload of carriage harnesses and we tied the longest pieces of these securely under McBurney’s arms and around his waist, and then with Marie carrying the lamp and going before to guide the parcel and Amelia holding his leg steady, the rest of us hung on to the straps from above and thus we lowered McBurney, sliding on his back, as carefully as we could down to the first floor.

  “Thank you, Emily,” said Miss Martha after she had caught her breath. “That really was a very clever notion.”

  “It was only a simple problem in logistics,” I said. “Any good quartermaster could have supplied you with the same answer.”

  Then we pulled McBurney, still in his harness, into the parlor and lifted him on to his settee.

  “There you are, Johnny old thing,” said Marie. “If you had only remained there like a good boy earlier this evening, you’d have saved us all a lot of trouble.”

  Mattie was applying cold water to his head again and Miss Harriet was still waving the smelling salts under his nose. Whether it was the result of these remedies or of the jolting he had received on his journey I cannot say, but in any event shortly thereafter he opened his eyes and stared at us in apparent bewilderment. It seemed almost as though he had forgotten where he was. Then in a moment he got his bearings and managed a weak grin.

  “The top o’ the mornin to yez all,” he said, and then he must have realized that none of us were smiling because his own look of cheerfulness soon faded. He tried to get up but couldn’t quite make it.

  “Be still, sir,” said Miss Martha, who was having another look at his leg.

  “Have I banged up the old stem again?” he asked anxiously.

  “Yes, you have, Johnny,” Amelia told him. “But don’t worry about it. Miss Martha is going to fix it for you again.”

  “O’ course she is,” he said. “There’s none better for patchin up a leg than dear Miss Martha.” He closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “I’m sorry to have caused any trouble here tonight. But I won’t make any more. If you can just cover that leg a bit to keep the dirt out of it, I’ll still be leaving you in the morning.”

  “Your leg is broken—badly this time,” Miss Martha informed him, “And I am incapable of setting it.”

  “Just push it all together like you did before, and wrap a bit of rag around it. It’ll be all right. It don’t feel any worse than it did before.” He was trying to raise himself on his elbows all the while to see how bad it really was.

  “I’m afraid it may give you some discomfort later, Mister McBurney,” Miss Harriet put in. “You’re still in a state of shock right now. But don’t fret. We’ll do our best for you.”

  “Just what do you think that might include, sister?” asked Miss Martha. “I can’t do anything at all to repair that injury. I’m not a surgeon—although I doubt that even a surgeon would attempt it. However, we can try to find someone qualified, if you feel that we should. I can go to the Brock crossroads in the morning and ask one of the Union officers to
send a doctor here.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to bring any more Yankees in here,” said Miss Harriet.

  “I don’t. But it occurs to me now that it may be unavoidable. I should have reported him to our own troops on that first night. It would have been better for him and for us all.”

  “But he wanted to stay,” I told her. “You can’t blame yourself, Miss Martha.”

  “There ain’t no need of fetchin a doctor here anyway,” declared Mattie. “We can just put him in the cart and take him down to the crossroads. His own will come along and attend to him.”

  “All right,” said Miss Martha. “We can do it that way, if Miss Harriet agrees. Either way, whichever she prefers.”

  “Why do you ask me, sister? Why do you leave it up to me?” said Miss Harriet, wringing her hands.

  He had managed to get a look at it now and saw how it was twisted and gashed again. “What do you suppose the army surgeons will most likely do with that leg?” he asked in a small voice.

  “Amputate it,” said Miss Martha flatly.

  “That’s about the way I figure it too. They don’t like to waste much time, them fellas. They haven’t got the patience of you ladies.” He sank back again and closed his eyes. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you didn’t notify anybody. I don’t fancy myself with one leg. It’d ruin my dancing style.”

  “Also they’ll very probably charge you with desertion,” I told him.

  “You may be right at that, Miss,” he said. “That’s very possible too. . . .”

  However that seemed the least of his worries at that moment. His voice had faded away and he seemed to have lost consciousness again. Miss Martha watched him for a moment and then pulled his blanket over him.

  “All right,” she said. “Back up to bed with all of you.”

  “Aren’t you even going to attempt to sew it up again?” Miss Harriet asked.

  “If I can’t set the bone, I can’t stitch the flesh above it,” Miss Martha said.

  “You could straighten it a bit, couldn’t you?” Miss Harriet persisted. “Put splints on it like you did before. So neatly, too. . . . I watched you closely.”

  “Then you do it this time,” Miss Martha suggested angrily. “I’ve told you that it is impossible, but if you want to try it anyway, you have my permission!”

  “I’ll try it,” said Amelia as Miss Harriet hesitated.

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Miss Martha informed her. “You’ll return to your room immediately as you have been instructed.”

  “Corporal McBurney will be all right, dear,” said Miss Harriet, who was trying to convince herself. “The bleeding has stopped so he is in no immediate danger. Tomorrow morning, when the light is better, Miss Martha will have a look at his leg again . . . won’t you, sister?”

  “Yes,” said Miss Martha noncommittally. “I imagine I will look at it. All right, young ladies. . . .”

  She moved to the door, holding the lamp, and waited while we all went past her and up the stairs. Amelia was the last and she paused to tuck McBurney’s blanket around his feet before she trailed after us staring very hard and defiantly at Miss Martha, I noticed, as she went by. Of course, Miss Martha, very properly, ignored her. Amelia, who used to be a very sweet little thing, is becoming a bit of a problem in this house and I believe her difficulties can be traced to her association with the one who shares her room. Marie Deveraux, I’m sure, would be enough to demoralize a whole regiment of girls like Amelia.

  Well I went back to bed but naturally I couldn’t fall asleep immediately after all that excitement. Also there was still so much noise in the house a stone deaf person would have been kept awake by just the buzzing and muttering alone. Amelia and Marie, who are right across the hall from me, just chattered away like two old magpies about the situation until finally Miss Martha herself could stand no more of it and had to go to their door and threaten them with the most dire consequences if they didn’t immediately shut their mouths. Perhaps she was a bit more ladylike in her choice of expression, but that was certainly the content of her message. Anyway that quieted Marie and Amelia, but now our rest was interrupted by Edwina, sobbing behind her closed door, or maybe she had been sobbing all the time and it was just now noticeable.

  Finally—and this is one of the last disturbances I can remember from that night—I heard Miss Harriet slipping quietly down the stairs. It is easy to recognize Miss Harriet’s steps because they are such quick little nervous ones. Then almost immediately there was the more purposeful tread of Miss Martha going down the stairs in pursuit, I supposed, of her sister, but by that time I was frankly so tired that I could hardly bring myself to speculate on what commotion might be taking place. However we have our little people at this school who must wonder about everything, no matter how late at night it occurs.

  “Miss Harriet has gone to the cellar for wine,” hissed Marie opening my door, “and Miss Martha has gone after her!”

  “How do you know?” I managed to ask.

  “I guessed. I also predict that the wine is really for herself but she’ll say it’s for Corporal McBurney in case the pain in his leg awakens him.”

  “Go to bed . . . you’re keeping me awake.”

  “Do you think Miss Martha would really let the Yankee army know McBurney is here?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea . . . go to bed.”

  “I’m almost sure she wouldn’t,” said my little visitor, or at least I think that’s what she said. “Miss Martha would be afraid they’d shoot us all for harboring a deserter.”

  “Please . . . please go to bed!”

  “Isn’t it all terribly interesting? What do you think is going to happen next, Emily?”

  “This!” I yelled. And threw a shoe at her. She ducked and it hit the wall outside.

  “Oh Emily,” she chortled. “You’ll never make the artillery.” And then she skipped away.

  I had half a notion to go after her and box her ears, but while I was in the process of considering this, I fell asleep—and remained asleep for the rest of the night, thankfully. If there were any more disturbances in the house on that night, I didn’t hear them.

  The next morning we were forbidden to enter the parlor. Only those with urgent business would be allowed to visit that part of the house until further notice, said Miss Martha, and that would not include any students without special permission from her.

  This announcement came at breakfast and I personally thought it was a very good idea. To be sure there were some vociferous objections to it—from Amelia and Marie mostly. Amelia was always the last to admit the existence of any flaw in the character of her dear McBurney, and as for Marie, she just naturally would complain about any restriction on her movements, no matter what the cause. If Marie had never even considered entering the parlor before for any reason, and you told her she was forbidden to do so, why then naturally she would want to spend all her time in there.

  However Miss Martha had apparently changed her mind about not trying to repair the damage to McBurney’s leg, because as soon as we arose from the table she sent all the students into the library to study while she and Miss Harriet and Mattie went into the parlor, carrying with them Miss Harriet’s sewing basket, some pieces of wood bark, which could be used as splints, and some strips of a bedsheet, which, we guessed, Miss Harriet must have sacrificed from her own bed.

  “Miss Martha also donated another bottle of wine to the cause,” Marie reported from the library door. “Either Johnny or Miss Harriet must have drained the last dregs out of the one that Miss Harriet gave him last night.”

  “I wonder if Johnny is angry with me,” said Alice.

  “But why on earth would he be angry with you?” inquired Marie quite sober-faced. “I should think it would be the other way around, after the way he forced himself into your room and overpowered you and
mistreated you.”

  “I don’t believe I used those exact words,” said Alice, watching us all very carefully.

  “Well then use some exact words now, Alice. Tell us all the horrible things that did happen. You must’ve had a simply dreadful ten or fifteen minutes or was it longer than that? Did you scream for help or were you too paralyzed to even open your mouth? Do you have any scars or bruises you could show us from your brutal treatment?”

  “I didn’t say I was brutally treated,” cried Alice nervously. “I said I was frightened.”

  “Why were you frightened?” Amelia inquired. “Johnny told me a while ago that you invited him up there.”

  “Did he say that? Oh I guess I might have mentioned that he could drop up there some time when he had nothing else to do. He’s certainly no gentleman talking that way behind a girl’s back.”

  “He wasn’t talking behind your back,” said Amelia angrily. “I merely asked him a question and he answered it. He said that you had told him you had a map in your room that he could take with him when he left here, and that’s all he said.”

  “And Miss Martha asked him the same question a few moments ago before breakfast, while I happened to be standing by the parlor door,” said Marie, “and he gave Miss Martha very much the same answer. And then Miss Martha remarked that it must be an awfully heavy map if you couldn’t carry it down to him yourself. She also said that she intends to have a look at that map herself before the day is out.”

  “She’s entirely welcome to if she can only tell me where it is,” declared Alice. “Do you know I have been searching for that particular map for a solid week now and I just haven’t been able to find it. It’s a very good map of this area too. A Mississippi captain gave it to my mother during our journey here but I just don’t know what I did with it.”

  “Well you had better search harder for it,” Marie informed her, “because I’m afraid there may be some people in this house who will refuse to believe that particular map ever existed.”

  “Stop your bickering, both of you, and get busy with your English grammar,” I commanded them. Since I am the oldest at this school—with the exception of Edwina, who was still in her room, having ignored all rappings, poundings and loud calls to breakfast—I am usually put in charge when Miss Martha and Miss Harriet are absent. Of course, Edwina is so moody and wrapped up in her own affairs that she really isn’t qualified for leadership, although you can bet your next year’s crop of cotton it doesn’t make her happy to see me given the responsibility.