Jewel of Promise

by Marian Wells

  Slowly Crystal folded the newspaper and opened the door to the maid. “They look lovely,” Crystal murmured with a smile. “Perhaps I’ll change my mind and go down to the ballroom for a short time.”

  She hesitated, arrested by the woman’s haunted expression. “Are you celebrating, too?” Emotion flickered through the woman’s eyes. “I’m also disappointed,” Crystal said.

  The maid gave her a quick glance. “Ma’am, I be glad to help you.” Crystal looked into the dark, anxious eyes as she pressed coins into her hands. “Thank you, ma’am. Call if’n you need me.” She pointed to the bell rope, bobbed her head, and left.

  Crystal pursed her lips and stared at the door, addressing the now-absent maid. “It’s nearly as if I’ve denied the bigger part of myself,” she whispered. “I didn’t answer your unspoken questions when you looked at my skin. And just knowing your question makes me feel guilty, guilty. If something doesn’t happen to reverse this war, my sister, we’ll all be in the same boat—slaves. And I deserve it no less than you.”

  Crystal dressed and went down to the ballroom. Lifting her chin just a bit higher, she managed a smile as she started toward the far end of the room. The last strains of the waltz faded away. She looked at the young women smiling and laughing with their escorts. Delicate gowns blossomed in spring colors, made even more beautiful against the background of gray uniforms, gold braid, and medals.

  Crystal saw a line of chairs just beyond the dancers, filled with dignified older men in black, and silver-haired matrons in velvet and satin.

  There didn’t seem to be a reception line. With a sigh of relief, she nodded at several friendly smiles and went toward a chair beside a uniformed man wearing a sling. The orchestra swung into a cotillion as she sat down.

  The soldier turned to her, a pleasant smile on his face, “Do you—” Without warning, cannonfire and explosions shook the room. “The Yanks,” the soldier swore. “Ran the blockade after all.”

  The shelling continued, building in ferocity. As the concussions struck the hotel, lamps flickered and curtains swayed. In the dimness, Crystal pressed her hand against her mouth while she watched flashes of light through the windows of the hotel. Around her there was an uneasy rush of people. “Get out!” came the urgent cries. “They’ll hit the hotel!”

  “The Yankees—they’ve run the blockade! Get out!”

  Officers blocked the rush to the door. “Be calm!” they shouted. “There’s not a chance of their guns touching the hotel. The explosions you hear are our guns firing on the Union gunboats. It’ll all be over in a few minutes. Go to your rooms and remain calm.”

  Crystal left the ballroom with the others. As she made her way through the dim corridor she made no attempt to hide her delighted smile.

  But during the night she began to worry. “Father, all those shells. Please protect the Federal boats. And please, if you want freedom for the slaves—even for those like me—please help us win this war. No matter what happens to me, please don’t let them back down now!”

  Two days later Crystal faced the ticket agent at the railway station. “Why is it impossible to take the train to New Orleans?”

  “Ma’am, the Feds have the railway system torn up. They’ve ruined the lines coming and going. There’s no travel at all. You can’t travel to New Orleans, and you can’t go back the way you came.” He smiled wanly. “Be patient. Things won’t continue like this. Soon the railway will be put in order. This problem with the blockade runners’ll be solved. Then you’ll see your mama.”

  That same night Crystal awakened to gunfire again. As she listened to the explosion of shells, she began to feel her loneliness and isolation return. In the morning, the newspaper beside her breakfast plate informed her that another Union transport had been sunk. Two sunk, she thought, but they didn’t say how many made it through the batteries. And they didn’t mention troops; were the transports empty?

  That thought kept her musing over the situation for the remainder of the day. Finally, with a sigh, she murmured, “Crystal, you are in the middle of war; I think you’d better pull yourself up sharp, quit being a baby, and pray without ceasing.”

  ****

  April slipped into May, and Crystal remained in Vicksburg. The uneasy situation persisted as the Union gunboats continued their attempt to break through the river blockade. Life in the bluffs above the river continued much the same. Crystal tried to make friends with those around her as they all endured the restrictions that overtook them one by one.

  By the middle of May, Crystal noticed that the newspapers now carried news about the enemy with a somber tone. There was speculation about Grant’s maneuvers and the size of his force. But the biggest question seemed to be his whereabouts. Could he possibly be on the eastern bank of the Mississippi? If so, how had that happened? But always the news ended on an optimistic note. General Johnston would be in Vicksburg soon, and the minor difficulties would be over.

  Crystal read more news about the mysterious leader of the Union raiders who were wreaking havoc with the Confederate railways. “No wonder the trains aren’t running. This man has effectively blocked General Pemberton’s supply route. But why must he tear up three railways and burn depots and freight cars?” As she stared down at the newspaper, the answer became obvious.

  “I do believe the Union isn’t going to stop until this war is won completely! General Pemberton is in Vicksburg. So am I. I wonder if General Grant expects to tear the whole South apart?” For a moment she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against them. “Father, what do I do now?”

  ****

  Matthew picked up the letter. It was from Sadie. He tore it open and read:

  Dear Matthew,

  We’ve had a letter from Mike. It sounds like there’s going to be a battle in the Mississippi River area. He says Grant has big plans and this time it looks as if he will make it or lose all. I’m wondering about Crystal. Have you heard from her?

  There was more, but Matthew dropped the letter and sat down to count the days on his fingers.

  “Surely Crystal is safe in New Orleans by now,” he muttered as he paced the room. But the feeling of dread wouldn’t go away. “She said she would be back in Pennsylvania by June.” He snatched up the letter. Obviously Crystal wasn’t there.

  Then he tossed the letter aside. “It isn’t June yet, you ninny,” he muttered. Then a darker thought crossed his mind, a thought that had him pacing the room restlessly. You deserve to lose her. After the way you have treated her, what can you expect? He flung himself on his bunk. “Father, God, I’m sorry. I know you love both of us, and the past has been forgiven. Please, just tell me what to do now.”

  ****

  Matthew faced his commanding officer. “Sir, I know the offensive hasn’t developed against Vicksburg, but I’m convinced it will. I am requesting you to transfer me to a division scheduled to support Grant in the west.”

  “It’s not our policy to shift individuals around. Since it’s such an unusual request, would you mind telling me what is behind it?”

  “My wife left in March to visit her mother in New Orleans. Since I haven’t heard from her, I realize she could be anywhere. I know little of the difficulties involved with travel. I’m guessing—maybe the Lord is telling me—that she could be in the Vicksburg area now.”

  “Thomas, I appreciate your concern for your wife, but we wouldn’t have much of an army if we were to make such exceptions for everyone.”

  “Then I’m not the first?”

  His commander grinned. “Caught me. You are the first. If you’ll keep your mouth shut about this, I’ll see what I can do. But I dislike the idea of you getting yourself shot up for nothing if she happens to be in New Orleans.”

  “Sir, I have a feeling I’ll be shot up anyway. And thank you, sir.”

  “Matter of fact, I have sensitive material which needs to be transferred to Grant. It must be hand-carried. At the risk of your life, it must not fall into enemy hands.”


  “I know nothing about courier service, but I’m willing to try.”

  “Trying isn’t good enough.”

  “I’ll deliver it, or I won’t get there myself.”

  Chapter 35

  Beth paced up and down her bedroom. She glanced out the window, murmuring, “It’s nearly dusk. Mr. Stollen should be here soon. Tomorrow is the third day of May.” She shivered. Chewing her lip she thought of the journey beginning tomorrow. “For the hundredth time,” she muttered, “I’ve studied my way through the train trip. Why should going into Virginia make such a baby out of me?”

  Abruptly she stopped in the middle of the room. “What could possibly be more horrible than to meet someone I know?” She rushed to the mirror and studied her features. “Oh, dear, I look terribly familiar.” She reached for the hairbrush and began to brush her flowing, flame-colored hair into a loose spiral of curls. Thrusting in hairpins, she studied the effect.

  There was a tap at the door, and Cynthia’s voice called. “Come in.” When the door swung open, she faced Cynthia. “Does this make me look older?”

  “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb with hair piled that high. Twist it lower, and push those curls inside the roll. You’re supposed to look respectable, not showy.”

  Cynthia sat on the edge of the bed. “You worried about meeting someone you know? Don’t. It’s not any of their business what you’re doing. And besides, if they did know, they’d be green with envy. Now come sit down for a minute. You’ll make yourself sick with this pacing back and forth.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “Is that so?” Cynthia asked. “I could ask questions. I’m still wondering about your clothes and the jewelry you wear. Sugar, I don’t want an explanation; just don’t underrate yourself.”

  Beth shook her head. “Cynthia, this takes better nerves than I have. Right now if someone says ‘Boo!’ I’ll run.”

  Cynthia chuckled. “Remember, Beth, you’re not doing this to please yourself; you are doing a brave, courageous act which will help win this war. Come on, let’s go down to dinner!” She tugged at Beth’s arm and smiled.

  ****

  They had just finished dinner when Timothy Stollen arrived. He was alone and seemed even more remote and cold. After greeting Cynthia, he turned to Beth. “I have some bad news for you. Kathleen was injured in a carriage runaway this afternoon. You’ll have to make the trip to Richmond alone.”

  Beth’s throat tightened. “Is it serious?”

  “No, just painful bruises. But it won’t be possible for her to travel for a week or so.”

  Beth lifted her chin. “Wouldn’t it be wise to delay the trip until she’s recovered?”

  His look was icy. “Impossible. Your contact will be expecting you. Furthermore, there will be a return message which must be delivered.” He continued to look at her, then suddenly he smiled. “You’ll make it. Just play the perfect lady, and our man will give you all the right signals. Here’s the packet of messages. Of course they are coded, but don’t take chances with them. You’ll be able to hide them so there’ll be no problems.” Unexpectedly he bent over and kissed her cheek. “You’ll do just fine. I’ll see you back here next week.”

  With a grimace, Beth left the room rubbing her cheek. She was pulling pins from her hair when Cynthia came into the room.

  “Beth, you don’t have to like his kisses,” she said, shaking her head. “Just remember he’s the boss. Your obvious distaste was childish. Think of him as Uncle Timothy.”

  “Tim or Uncle Timothy, I don’t like his kisses, and I feel ugly. It was worse than a pat on the head. He’s done nothing except glare at me since we’ve first met.”

  “Beth, you’re terribly young! That wooden smile is part of Tim. I don’t think he’s aware of how cold he is.”

  “Well, just the same, I don’t like him a bit. Cynthia, please help me pack this party dress, and heaven help me if I have to wear it.”

  Beth dropped her hand and stared at the dress. Heaven help me! She shivered and went to the valise. Chewing at her lip, she thought of the things Olivia had said. The Israelites were afraid of God? So am I.

  ****

  The train’s wheels drummed a message against the rails, pounding out Timothy’s last words to her: We’ll wear them down; the man who knows the plans of the other side will be the victor. We’ll wear them down, slowly, steadily. Beth felt the packet of papers crackle against her waistline.

  The wheels were slowing, and she moved to lean against the window. The evening shadows left wedges of light and dark across the landscape. The dark was a depot, the light a barren meadow. The train stopped.

  The conductor came through. “This junction is the main exchange point; from here you may travel south or west as well as north. The Richmond train is due here in two hours.”

  Beth watched the passengers gathering up their bags. Picking up her valise, she fell in behind the uniformed men and dumpy little ladies carrying their bundles.

  A feeble light burned in the depot. As Beth hurried toward it, a man stepped quickly out of her path. “Oh, beg your pardon,” she murmured.

  He turned. “I thought you sounded familiar! You’re Beth Peamble, aren’t you? Remember me? I’m Matthew Thomas, Olivia’s brother.”

  “Of course I remember!” she cried. “Matthew, how nice to see you again.” She stopped, looked quickly around. Uneasily she shifted her bag while her mind filled with a list of all the things she shouldn’t say.

  “Did you just get off this train?” She nodded, and he continued, “I saw your red hair at the front of the coach, but didn’t guess it was you. Are you are headed west?” he asked, taking her bag and leading the way to the depot.

  “No,” she said slowly. He put the bags on the floor and waved her to the bench. She sat, adding, “I’m actually going into Richmond. Just a brief trip.”

  “You’re brave,” he murmured. “Crystal started for New Orleans over a month ago. The few hours I’ve had on this train raise my concern.” He examined her carefully and said, “I don’t think the South’s trains are in the best of condition. I’ve been listening to the rails clatter since we’ve left Alexandria, and I wonder about their safety.”

  “They’ve been moving a lot of troops on them,” Beth said.

  “I know. I’ve waited several days to get a train which wasn’t filled with troops.” A studied, thoughtful look took over his face.

  Now isn’t the time to begin asking questions, she reprimanded herself. She sighed and straightened.

  “Do you have family in Richmond?” he asked. “I wouldn’t caution you against visiting them, of course. With conditions the way they are, it’s best to keep family ties when we can.”

  That thoughtful expression returned to his face. She hunted for words. “I’ve a very old aunt in Richmond. Yes, I agree, it is good to see family. I’d chosen this time to visit because it seems travel isn’t too much of a problem.”

  Dropping his voice he said, “I’m heading west.” He paused, glanced quickly around the room, and added, “Then you won’t be staying long in Richmond?”

  “No. I’ll return to Washington in a week’s time. Have you seen Olivia since she’s come out East?”

  “Yes, but not for several weeks.” Surprisingly his face cleared. He smiled. “Just after Crystal left, Olivia contacted me.” He moved close and dropped his voice. “Beth, I’m thinking of imposing on you. Is it possible to get you to carry some information for me? Just a verbal message,” he added quickly. “I wouldn’t want to jeopardize you.”

  “Jeopardize?” she whispered. “Oh, Matthew, what are you getting me into?”

  Matthew leaned forward. “I think my train has arrived. This will have to be quick. When you get back to Washington, will you go to the Capitol and ask to be directed to the Department of the Army? It doesn’t matter who you talk to, just be certain to give my name.” His voice was low, and she took a step closer. “Tell them I’ve been listening to
some talkative men; there are good indications that Lee is moving troops east. Also, tell them it appears our knowledge of the South is based on misinformation. Word has come to me that indicates they’re without sufficient food, clothing, and even arms. Their morale is nearly gone. That’s all. Goodbye, and God bless you.”

  He sprinted toward the train. Beth sat frowning down at her hands as the train left the depot. “Matthew Thomas, how can you possibly think that information is worth passing on? Why should I bother?” Why, indeed? she thought briefly. Whose side are you on?

  She was still musing over the strange visit with Matthew when her train was announced. Gathering her shawl and valise, she joined the group of people pressing their way onto the train.

  The man standing behind her smiled down at her; he pulled a heavy gold watch out of his vest pocket and scrutinized it. “Very late to begin this leg of the trip. It’s unfortunate there are so few trains going into Richmond these days.” He straightened his tie, adding, “Hopefully the matter at hand won’t continue much longer. Meanwhile we must put up with inconveniences for the sake of the men fighting.” He tilted his hat at Beth and she nodded as she passed to her seat.

  Beth was settled into her seat when the conductor came into the car and faced the passengers. “Ladies and gentlemen, before we reach Richmond we must pass the large enemy camp just across the river from Fredericksburg. There is a chance they’ll try to tear up the railroad tracks; therefore, we will proceed to within fifteen miles of the encampment and wait until daylight before continuing our trip. Travel by day enables our men to see the track ahead of them. I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience, but it is for your welfare. Good night.”