by Jana Petken
Tybrook also told her that he didn’t think any Yankees had gotten away. Mercy couldn’t stop wondering now why they had not fled the moment they had seen her make a dash down the hill. She was also mystified as to their reasons for not shooting her.
“On your feet, men! We march!”
Mercy’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the booming voice belonging to an infantry sergeant. She had dozed off. It was strange how the body could block out noise and sleep in the most uncomfortable positions, she thought. She had become very good at finding rest when and where she could. Even her lumpy old mattress in the Elephant and Castle had been more luxurious compared with some of the hard ground she had slept on in Virginia. She picked herself up and swiped the dirt off her breeches. Onwards, she thought, onwards with Jacob.
Chapter Fifty-Two
An encampment had been set up five miles from where Mercy had encountered Jacob and the Yankees. A few tents sat in a muddy field, which had at one time flourished with wheat. The recent rains had turned the soil into a watery brown slime, but the mud was also so thick in places that the wagons had to be pulled and pushed by men from behind to stop the wheels from getting bogged down.
Mercy had heard the talk of invasion abound in Richmond. There, the Yankee army had been likened to a striding giant with pounding boots shaking Virginia’s hallowed ground and devouring the miles between Alexandria and Yorktown. She wondered what Richmond’s population would think if they found out that nine Yankee soldiers had been but fifteen miles outside the capital.
Darkness had fallen, and there was an atmosphere of good-natured banter amongst the tired men. Throughout the evening, many approached Mercy to thank her for her service to the Confederacy. Much obliged, ma’am, she had heard all night.
The smell of coffee sifted into the air. Cooking pots had been fired up for a dinner of rice and beans. Some soldiers were singing a Confederate song, and they were accompanied by a harmonica and flute. Mercy listened to the impassioned voices, spreading in number throughout the camp.
Virginia, land of blazin’ sunsets over rivers flowin’.
Cotton fields like clouds of glory, sweepin’ ’cross the land.
Virginia, Virginia, my life is in your keepin’.
Hush now, li’l child, and don’t you go a weepin’.
Virginia, Virginia, the battle drum will roll.
Virginia, Virginia, I’ll die to save your soul ….
Jacob and Mercy sat within a clump of trees, gulping down some hot coffee and sharing a comfortable silence. Mercy braced herself for Jacob’s attack. It would come any minute, she thought. She had already determined that he would forbid her to go to Norfolk, but she was also firm in her resolve to disobey him. “Jacob, what a beautiful song,” she said. “Who wrote it?”
“Interesting question … and one I cannot answer, “Jacob told her. “I reckon we just needed a song of our own. I first heard it in Yorktown. The men seemed quite taken by it, and if they are happy to sing it, I’m all for it. God knows they don’t have a lot of pleasures in their lives.”
Finishing his coffee, Jacob looked closely at Mercy, ready now to speak his mind. “My love, will you pay me heed if I ask you not to go to Norfolk? There are a lot of reasons why you shouldn’t go there,” he said tentatively.
“I can’t think of a single one,” Mercy answered defiantly.
“Then why don’t we start with the one where you stole a Yankee horse and ran away from the fort? Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, you will be recognised by a Union soldier who might not take kindly to your being a horse thief? Your face is not easily forgotten.”
“Jacob, stop. What do you want me to do – live my life being afraid and watch my wits dull in Richmond? I spent the first eighteen years of my life being told not to go out, not to explore, and not to make friends, and I will never again become the sad, frustrated, bitter girl I once was. I love you with my whole heart, but not even you can dissuade me from doing what I must. You understand me better than anyone else in the world, so you should know that I won’t be trapped by your Southern traditions and live a meaningless life sipping mint juleps whilst embroidering napkins!
“Belle is asking for me. She needs me, and I will not disappoint her. You should be glad I’m taking up this cause. Anyway, why should you have the right to choose my life for me? You left your home, your slaves, and me to enlist in this bloody war. You have a wife because you decided you should marry her – and look at what a big fat mess that turned out to be. I am not your wife, and I’m not beholden to social rules made by men. Gawd’s truth, I would rather be shot tomorrow than watch my life unfold with nothing but trivial pursuits!”
Jacob sighed with frustration. He deserved that rebuke, yet his gut told him she was putting herself in danger. He’d been trying to figure out what it really was that scared him the most. Was it her thinking she was invincible and didn’t need to pay no mind to men who knew best or the thought of Isaac being in Norfolk? It was only a stone’s throw from Hampton, and there was every chance that Isaac had crossed the James. The thought of Mercy seeing him and spending time with him was a damn nightmare.
He had noticed pity in her eyes earlier, when she’d watched the Yankees being interrogated. He’d sensed her sympathy for the Union cause, even though she had been the one to alert him and his men about the Yankees. Damn it, she still puzzled him. He needed to give her something – some news which would make her change her mind about going to Norfolk. Drastic measures were needed, he decided, for he sure as hell wasn’t going to lose what little sleep he got every night, worrying about her shenanigans.
“You’re the most obstinate woman I have ever known, but I reckon your stubborn heart just might have saved some lives today. I found out that those Yankees were planning to cut the telegraph lines that we had just finished erecting up the road. Had you not warned us, our army might have been cut off from the command stations – leads me to believe you’re living a worthwhile life already.”
“I’m glad I could be of service,” Mercy said.
Jacob sighed again. She was still all riled up. “My love, what if I told you that the government is bringing in a law that will see me going home? Would this change your mind about Norfolk? They’re going to exempt plantation owners from the army and allow them to tend to their land. It’s not a rumour. The bill will be passed.”
Mercy’s eyes brightened with a rush of happiness. “Are you speaking the truth?”
“I am,” he said.
“Oh, Jacob, this is wonderful news. When will you go home?”
“As soon as I get my discharge papers. I figure this bill will become legislation in September or October, but they might let me go before that. Seems the government sees things the same way I do. There ain’t no use fighting a war if what you’re fighting for gets destroyed while you’re on the battlefield. This war might continue for some time, but it will end eventually, and when it’s over, the South will want to rebuild as fast as it can.
“I want you to be by my side. You make me do things I never thought I’d do for any woman. You torment me at times, but the truth is, I cannot imagine my life without you. I don’t want to lose you. Hell, I don’t want you out of my sight for a single day. I want you to come with me to Stone Plantation and live there, as you should have done from the beginning. We will have to do this at some point, so it may as well be now. I’ve seen men die and their hopes and dreams die with them. I want to wake up with you every morning and watch you sleep with your soft little hand on your cheek every night. We’ve been punished enough.”
Mercy was giddy with happiness. Was it possible? she wondered. Was fate finally being kind to them? “I always hoped for this, but I never imagined it would happen so soon. I suddenly feel as though everything will be all right. Living with you will be my biggest and best adventure.” A disturbing thought then struck Mercy. “But, Jacob, what if the Yankees have already taken Stone Plantation?”
“Word is the Union l
eft it pretty much alone after ransacking it. They didn’t burn it to the ground. Sheriff Manning has been there recently. I got his letter only four days ago, saying that every brick is still in place and that Handel is too. My house is far from Portsmouth and even farther from Norfolk. It leads nowhere but into the swamp and forest. I doubt the Yankees will have a use for it or care about lookin’ after the slaves still living there.”
“What about your cavalry? Will you really leave it to fight on without you?”
“I will. I don’t want to back out of battle or desert my men, but the South has a powerful need for food, and I aim to supply its army. I figure I’ll be more useful feeding the men than leading them.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this before now,” Mercy said. “This is the best news you could have given me.”
“I didn’t have the chance to talk to you earlier or to kiss you properly, and to be honest, that’s the only thing I want to do right now. I want to hold you in my arms and love you. Will you let me love you tonight? Can we forget about the war till morning?”
Mercy nodded and smiled. “I can forget every bad thing that’s ever happened when I’m with you. When you hold me, there’s only light and love. Hold me tight tonight and sleep easy, for I give you my word that I will return to Richmond to wait for you.”
Jacob sighed with relief and pleasure. In three short months, they would begin a life together. The war would probably rage on, but he and Mercy were finally beating all the odds that had been stacked against them. When the three months were over, he would not let her go again, not for a single day or night.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Isaac and Belle ate lunch on the hospital grounds, beneath the leafy branches of an oak tree and hidden from the disapproving stares of Southerners. Isaac had tracked Belle down to her town house a couple of weeks previously, ignoring his gut feeling that she would turn him away just as Dolly had. He’d been pleasantly surprised by her welcome and even more delighted that their friendship had flourished. He had been wrong even to think that Belle would shun him, he’d thought after their first meeting.
Belle was not a typical Southern lady, feigning vulnerabilities and weakness of spirit. She had grown up spoilt and adored by a mammy and an overindulgent father, but she was made of sturdy stock, much like Southern women who did not have privileged upbringings. She was a woman of the world, often shirking convention and opinion for a life of her choosing.
The conversation today had turned away from talk of war to subjects of a more personal nature. Belle was deeply concerned about Hendry, but she was also optimistic in her belief that he and the Carrabelle had broken through the Union blockade. No ship with the Carrabelle’s description had been reported sunk, and the sinking of a Confederate Merchant ship was an event the Yankees just loved to brag about.
“Where do you think the Carrabelle might be?” she asked Isaac.
“I’m hoping she’s in Liverpool, and I pray she stays there. I know you miss him, Belle, and I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, but I think it best that he stays put in England. You tell him I said so in your next letter to him. I’m sure you’ll get one across to England somehow – I wish I could post it for you.”
“Why, thank you, Isaac, but I couldn’t possibly allow you to do that for me. I’ll keep trying; that’s all I can do.”
Isaac smiled, but he thought that there was a slim chance of Belle being successful in contacting Hendry. “What about Jacob? Have you heard from him?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I have, actually. He wrote me only last week to tell me that Elizabeth’s sentence is being appealed. I think he believes that his only chance for a divorce is if she is free. I think Jacob would give her every penny he has for her signature on that last legal document. Of course, he pities her, as I do. It’s a dreadful situation, and not one I would wish on my worst enemy. I hear that Mrs Coulter is ill with worry. She’s convinced her daughter will die in that rat-infested prison.”
“I won’t lie –I can’t abide Elizabeth, but she did us all a favour when she killed Madame du Pont. Seems unfair that she should be punished for killing that damn whore of a woman.”
“I agree, but if we all killed folks we detested and got away with it, we’d be turning the South into a horde of savages.”
“We’re doin’ plenty of killin’ now. Maybe we’ve all become savages,” Isaac said sadly.
“Let’s not talk about the war. It’s such a glorious day. Isaac, Jacob also wrote that there is a chance he will be coming home to Stone Plantation. I shouldn’t be telling you this, with you being the enemy and all, but I thought you should know.”
Isaac cut into a loaf of bread. As always, his expression was sad and deeply pensive. “Hush now. You know me better than that. I won’t risk losing your friendship; it’s too important, and so are our private conversations.”
Belle sighed, “I do wish you could be here when Jacob returns. You were such good friends until …”
“Mercy – until Mercy came into our lives.”
“Yes.”
“What news of her?” Isaac asked.
“Do you really want to know?”
“I do.”
“Well, she’s still in Richmond. She was with Jacob some weeks ago at his encampment. I declare, Isaac, she will give me a heart attack one of these days. She’s hopeless. Why, there’s more chance of corralling a herd of wild stallions than getting Mercy to stay put.”
“Is she returning to Norfolk?” Isaac asked.
“Yes, she’s coming home with Jacob. They have decided to live together. I’m sorry, Isaac. I know this is not what you want to hear.”
Isaac shrugged off the heavy weight of unrequited love. “I reckon I shouldn’t be surprised. I suppose it was only a matter of time, but damn it, it’s not right. She deserves marriage and children – not this.”
“We are all prisoners of love.”
“I know that – God knows I do. She loves him so much that she lied to me. She gave me hope where there should have been none, yet even now I adore her.”
“I’m so sorry, truly I am.”
“Me too. I go to sleep every night emptying my heart of her, but in the morning, she’s back, filling it again. I’m a doctor, but there’s no medicine to cure what ails me and no end to this hell in sight.”
“Isaac dear, time will heal your heart – you might not believe it, but it will.”
“I hope you’re right, Belle, but it seems unlikely …”
Norfolk harbour and the Elizabeth River bustled with Union soldiers. Martial law had come into effect, much to the chagrin of the Southern population. There was no way in or out of Portsmouth and Norfolk nowadays without going through checkpoints, put in place in an attempt to strangle the flow of weapons and any commodities that might aid the Confederacy.
The mundane daily searches of wagons and carriages had caused numerous underground movements to spring up in Norfolk and Portsmouth. Contraband was hidden in the basements of private homes by loyal Confederates intent on supplying medicines, victuals, and weapons to rebel army units and militias hiding in the area. Items were smuggled out of the city through a variety of well-thought-out routes by people willing to take risks. Many were caught, but nothing seemed to deter the rebels from seeking new and even more inventive ways to get supplies to their army.
Isaac waited at the dockside until Belle was safely aboard the ferry. He waved to her just as it pulled away, floating slowly in the calm glassy water. He smiled with the aftermath of pleasure and walked his horse to the road beyond the harbour checkpoint. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun slanted through the trees, brightening the leaves and making them shimmer with light.
The street was quiet bar soldiers walking to and from the harbour and a few Union supply wagons being pulled by jaded horses. The atmosphere in Norfolk had become dreary. Isaac recalled these streets, once full of life, with great fondness. He’d visited just about every restaurant,
saloon, and music hall filled to the brim with sailors, tradesmen, and businessmen, and he had often woken up the next morning to a thumping headache caused by too many libations. Those were good days.
He continued to maintain a slow pace, with no real desire to return to the hospital. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he thought about his afternoon with Belle. He enjoyed his meetings with her. Their conversations reignited memories of a happier period in his life and caused him, for just a little while, to forget the war, hatred, and bigotry that went with it. These pleasurable outings were the best part of his week, and he was resolved not to give them up. The news of Jacob’s impending return to Stone Plantation with Mercy had affected Isaac more than he’d let on to Belle. Jacob might have something to say about this friendship, Isaac thought, but Jacob could go to hell.
The noise of gunfire snapped in the air, sending Isaac’s horse into a panic. As it reared and whinnied, he felt a sharp burning sensation shooting through his leg, as though all the blood in his veins had rushed to that one spot just above his knee. He screamed in agony, clinging to the horse’s mane as it sped off down the street. His head spun with the shock of being shot and the searing pain that worsened with every movement his body was forced to make to stop from falling off the horse’s back. His ears were ringing, but despite the chaos in his mind and flashes of light affecting his vision, he still managed to hear his own voice scream the word no …
