Defiant Hearts

by Janelle Taylor

  “You have my word of honor as a gentleman and soldier to obey them.”

  “Thank you. My name is Laura Carlisle; I’m the proprietress. My staff consists of Lily, Belle, and Cleo. The cook is Mrs. Barton, and my stableman is Alvus Long. I’ll introduce anyone available to you later.”

  “I’m Lieutenant Jayce Storm, Mrs. Carlisle, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance and to stay in your fine establishment.”

  “It’s Miss Carlisle, Lieutenant Storm. If you’ll sign the register, I’ll show you around, then to your room. That will leave you just enough time to refresh yourself before dinner is served.” She watched him sign his name in a surprisingly legible and lovely script, then hand her ten dollars.

  “If I decide to stay longer, Miss Carlisle, I’ll let you know after five days. Should I leave my pouch here or take it with us?”

  “Bring it with you because our tour won’t take long and will end upstairs.” She pocketed his payment, pleased and again surprised by his use of gold coins since their value at the market was greater than the lagging Confederate currency. She rounded the counter and said, “Follow me, sir.” As he did so, she had the oddest sensation that Lieutenant Jayce Storm was going to make her life very interesting indeed…

  Chapter Two

  Laura led the handsome stranger across the wide and long foyer and paused under the archway to a parlor with several sitting areas and a piano to their left, and game tables and a sideboard bar to their right. “This is where guests and local visitors meet to chat, relax, and play cards,” she explained. “Please feel free to mingle with them and to make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you, Miss Carlisle, and I will.”

  As his deep blue gaze roamed the area and people present, she felt confident that he’d be pleased. The setting was lovely with its denticulated moldings, plaster-designed ceiling, ornate marble fireplace, and parquet floor with colorful rugs in certain areas. The walls were painted cream with pale-rose woodwork, giving it a light and airy and inviting aura. The furnishings—mostly by Belter, Sheraton, Hepplewhite, and Chippendalewere in oak and walnut woods and upholstered in shades of green, beige, and blue, with occasional splashes of other muted colors. Swags laced through Corinthian brackets at the six windows were in green with gold braid and fringe. Thin panels of off-white linen hung beneath them and seemingly pooled on the floor, allowing light and air to enter while retaining privacy. The embellishments Clarissa had selected long ago fit perfectly with the decor and the soothing atmosphere she had wanted to create. In all corners, there were built-in cabinets with books and decorative items adorning glassed-in shelves: the hollows inside their bottoms allowed for spying on people sitting nearby, their intricately made observation apertures accessible via the locked cellar.

  When a dark-haired woman looked at them and smiled, Laura said, “That’s Belle serving drinks. You can meet my other guests at dinner.”

  She guided him across the foyer and into an equally large dining room with two oblong oak tables which seated sixteen people. Matching buffets were located on either side of the archway, a sideboard beneath the front windows, and two corner cabinets for dishes and serving pieces. Atop the sideboard were two trays holding glasses and a various array of liquors. On the other wall was a huge fireplace with a gilded mirror hanging over it. Above each table was suspended a gas chandelier, sparkling clean, unlit. Again the floor was wood with a large rug beneath each table. The upper sections of the side walls were in cream and the two end ones were in pale green, as were the door and window moldings and the wainscotting. The two corner cabinets were situated on the fireplace wall, one at each end of the room, each with a hollow and skillfully carved base to conceal their true purpose: spying.

  Her new guest didn’t speak during their stroll-through, but she sensed from his smiles and nods, he was impressed by what he viewed and was pleased with his choice of accommodations.

  She walked to the far end of the room and Jayce followed her. She motioned down a short hallway and said, “The kitchen is there, but Mrs. Barton prefers for guests not to invade her domain. If you need her, just knock loudly on this door. The woman who just passed our view is Lily.”

  Laura returned to the foyer and led her new guest up a flight of carpeted steps, secured by carved spindles and a polished oak railing. At the top, she motioned to her left and pointed out a water closet. She bypassed two small rooms with A and B marked on their doors without revealing their purpose and—strangely—hoped he didn’t know their function. Facing the front of the hotel and standing in the juncture of two hallways, she turned to her left and told him that guestroom number one and Lily’s quarters were in that direction. Again she didn’t mention the purpose for the room marked C, one positioned next to rooms one and two and possessing hidden holes for spying on important guests placed in them. She related that a second-story porch with rocking chairs for relaxation was ahead, beyond guestroom number two. She walked down the hallway to her right, pointing out another water closet and guestrooms three through six.

  “As you can see, Lieutenant Storm, we are a small and cozy hotel. Much of our business comes from local citizens socializing downstairs. I’ve placed you in Room 5. Rooms one through four have the best views overlooking Fifth Street and are larger, but they’re filled at present. If any of those guests leaves during your stay, you can change to one of them.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Miss Carlisle, but any room is sufficient after sleeping on the ground or in a tent for three years.”

  She smiled, then opened the door to his room. She made a quick check to make certain everything was clean and in order. “That’s Cary Street out your side window,” she pointed out, “and of course the James River a few blocks away.”

  “Who lives in the house attached to the hotel?”

  Laura watched him gaze out the back window and said, “I do. The stable is behind my home, and Alvus is usually there or working in the yards if you need a carriage ride, though most of the areas you might want to see are within walking distance. Everyone here can give any directions you require. Both water closets have fresh towels, soap, and shaving supplies. Summon help if you lack anything. I’ll see you downstairs at six for dinner. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.” She saw him place his bulging pouches and hat on the bed and trail his fingertips over it before turning to face her and smile again.

  “I’m sure I will. From what I’ve seen, this is truly a southern paradise with plenty of southern hospitality.”

  “Thank you, sir. I inherited it from my aunt Clarissa when she died last May. She’s the one who decorated it with such wonderful taste.”

  “Please accept my belated condolences for your loss.”

  Laura was confused by the way she wanted to stare at him and prolong their conversation. This wasn’t the time or the place to be flirtatious, especially with a stranger. “That’s very kind of you. May I ask how you chose Southern Paradise?”

  “After I reached town, I asked a gentleman on the street which was the best hotel for peace and quiet and good service; he recommended you. I’m afraid I didn’t ask his name, so you won’t know whom to thank.”

  “That’s a shame; he deserves a free drink on his next visit.”

  “If he doesn’t reveal himself to you and he visits before I leave, I’ll be more than happy to point him out to you. I’ll even pay for his drink.”

  Laura was delighted by his manners and kindness. “It’s after five, so I’ll go now to give you time to relax before the dinner hour. I’ll see you later, Lieutenant Storm.” She left his róom and closed the door.

  Before going downstairs, Laura examined the carpet and furniture and decorations in both hallways and in both water closets to make certain everything was clean and in order. For some reason, she wanted to impress Lieutenant Storm. Perhaps, she told herself, it was because he was such a gentleman and because—despite his rough appearance—he was handsome and—yes—arousing. But, she reminded herself, he would b
e gone soon, back to the perilous and bloody battlefield. Besides, he was a Confederate officer, and she, a spy for his enemies. If she was smart, she would ignore her crazy feelings and avoid him as much as possible. But, oh, what a tempting man he was, and she didn’t meet many of those!

  At the top of the stairs, she halted when the flame-haired Cleo peeked outside Room A to see who was around before her sated patron departed. Laura smiled and nodded the coast was clear for a discreet exit as soon as she was out of sight, then went to complete her tasks.

  After Laura stood in the archway to the dining room and rang the dinner bell at six o’clock, all guests and visitors responded to her summons except for Lieutenant Storm. The fourteen men took seats at the two oblong tables. Laura and Lily set bowls of rice, gravy, and dried peas and platters of sliced roasted beef—selling for twelve dollars a pound—and large biscuits on each one. Sliced tomatoes and dishes of pickles, along with salt and pepper and freshly churned butter, already were in place. Sweet potato pie waited on the sideboard for dessert. Milk and coffee were served by request, with Laura working one table and Lily the other while Belle and Cleo ate and rested for later tasks.

  When Laura glanced up and saw Jayce Storm paused in the doorway, her breath caught in her throat and her hands trembled. Tall and broad-shouldered, he made a commanding presence. He looked so different now, so neat, despite a slightly wrinkled uniform, its butternut shade enhancing his dark coloring. His still-damp ebony hair was parted on the left and combed back from his handsome face. He was clean shaven, and his features were strong, masculine, appealing. But it was his deep blue eyes and dazzling smile which affected her the most.

  She returned his friendly gesture and motioned him forward to her table, having made certain a spot was left for him there. “Gentlemen, this is a new guest: Lieutenant Jayce Storm.” She continued by introducing the others before he took his seat, using the men’s first names as was their preference and adding pieces of information about them: Carl from Vicksburg, owner of a cotton plantation; David from Danville, an important farmer; Frank from Alabama, a politician in town to confer with President Jefferson Davis; Lawrence from Petersburg, owner of a mill which made tents and bedding for soldiers; Orville from North Carolina, employed by the Weldon Railroad; and Major Richard Stevens from the Atlanta armory. She watched Jayce nod and smile at each man. “All except Carl are guests here; he’s staying at the Ballard House Hotel after fleeing Grant’s attack and conquest of his city. I’ll introduce you to the others later,” she told him. “They all live in or near Richmond; they’re here for the evening to socialize with each other over dinner and cards. It’s no secret Mrs. Barton is one of the best cooks alive, but I only accept ten reservations each night to assure my guests their places at the tables and ample relaxing space in the parlor.”

  “It sounds as if you’re a smart businesswoman, Miss Carlisle. This looks wonderful, especially after the type of meals I’m accustomed to in the wilds.”

  “That’s very kind of you to say, Lieutenant Storm,” she replied. She knew that Lily and a few of the local men at Lily’s table kept glancing their way as if to assess the newcomer, but she ignored their curiosity.

  As the men filled their plates and passed along the bowls and platters, Major Stevens asked, “Where are you from, Lieutenant Storm?”

  “Call me Jayce. I’m originally from Missouri, but I’ve been serving under Major Clark’s cavalry corp. We were attached to Wade Hampton’s division in the Shenandoah Valley until most of our company was killed, wounded, or captured at the Trevilian Station skirmish last month. I took a bullet in the shoulder and got laid up at a field hospital near there.”

  From the corners of her green eyes, Laura glanced at the enchanting male as if to convince herself his wound was truly healed. From the way he moved as he served himself, he appeared to be fine. She didn’t know why she found him so magnetic. She poured beverages and listened.

  David asked Jayce, “What happened at Trevilian Station? We’ve heard Old Jube and that blasted Sheridan are running wild in the Valley.”

  Jayce lowered his biscuit. “We were trying to keep Sheridan’s troops from joining up with Hunter’s at Charlottesville when Custer managed to flank us. Hampton’s men took him on and beat him, but Fitz Lee was forced to retreat. When Sheridan couldn’t break through our lines after several days of fighting, he turned tail and left to hook up with Grant.”

  David remarked, “General Hampton’s proving to be a fine replacement for Jeb Stuart, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is,” Jayce concurred, “and Stuart’s a hard leader to replace; he was a big loss to us. ’Course, we were pinned down at Trevilian, so we couldn’t stop Hunter from burning buildings and destroying VMI.”

  The Danville farmer frowned. “Virginia Military Institute will be another terrible loss to us. We’ll have to rebuild her after the fighting ends. I just don’t see why destroying schools and homes has to be a part of war.”

  “Neither do I,” an embittered Carl agreed, and stuffed his mouth with beef and bread.

  Major Stevens asked Jayce, “What are you doing in Richmond?”

  Jayce sipped coffee before he explained, “By the time I healed, my company was finished, Major Clark was dead, Hampton was heading to join Lee at Petersburg, and Early was stalking northern towns, including Washington. I was told to rest a few days here, then report to Petersburg for reassignment to one of the cavalry units there. I’ll probably be doing the same things as in the Valley: nipping at the enemies’ heels; capturing spies, deserters, and dispatches; attacking foragers; rescuing our boys who’ve been captured or cut off from us; recapturing stolen horses and supplies; blocking Yankee advances; decoying them away from towns; and doing reconnaissance.”

  Sixty-year-old Lawrence said, “You boys are doing a fine job for us, son, but Southerners are known for their honor, courage, chivalry, and prowess. I saw them drilling over at Monroe Park today, so something big must be coming. But too many of our brave boys are getting wounded and captured. Hospitals everywhere are full of injured men. In Petersburg, we’ve turned large homes, factories, and warehouses into hospitals; they’ve done the same here in Richmond and elsewhere. Miss Laura and her girls help tend the sick and wounded several days a week, and we’re all mighty grateful to them. Our Dixie belles are doing us proud during this travesty while their men are away on battlefields or trapped in Yankee prisons.”

  “It’s the least we can do for them,” Laura remarked with a smile, but a nibbling of guilt troubled her, knowing her visits and aid began as a fact-culling ploy. It hadn’t taken long for her troubled heart to be touched by their sufferings and sacrifices, and for her tasks there to become sincere efforts to help appease the men’s physical and emotional wounds. Sometimes she felt terrible about working against the South, but she honestly believed she must help end the war to save lives and to prevent more misery.

  Frank, the Alabama politician, said with a grin, “We heard how Lee and his troops whipped Grant, Sheridan, and Meade at Spotsylvania, Wilderness, North Anna, and Cold Harbor in May and June. And Beauregard has that “Beast” Butler trapped in the Bermuda Hundred Neck after licking him good at Drewry’s Bluff six weeks ago.”

  David added, “Jeff himself watched that fight from Proctor’s Creek Command Post. Everybody knows Jeff prefers soldiering to politics.”

  Frank asked, “Can you blame the President with all the trouble he’s having? If you ask me, Congress is giving Jeff more vexation and obstacles than Lincoln and the Union are. They seem to be taking their frustrations and hatred out on him. He doesn’t deserve such abuse or have time or strength to deal with such disruptive discontent. Would you believe that over half of the congressmen come to meetings armed, and they wave their weapons around and scream like lunatics?”

  Carl griped, “How can he keep his mind on important business when he’s in bad health half the time? He keeps suffering from relapses of that malarial fever he caught years ago. He may be bli
nd in his left eye, but he can see good enough to make a baby last month.”

  Frank rebuked the chuckling man, “For heaven’s sake, Carl; don’t you realize God gave him that girl to make up for his loss of Little Joe in April? I’m sure he’s still grieving over Little Joe’s death from that fall at the White House. You should be more kind-hearted to a fellow Mississippian; I’m sure his plantation has suffered the same fate as yours, if not worse.”

  Carl said, “I was only joshing, Frank, so lower your dander. If we don’t keep our sense of humor during this mess, we’ll all be raving lunatics before it ends. I apologize to you, Miss Carlisle, for speaking so crudely.”

  Laura smiled and said, “I understand, and you’re forgiven.” She didn’t like or respect Carl, but she couldn’t allow those feelings to show. Nor could she refuse his frequent visits, since he was acquainted with men of importance in Richmond, and he had a way of encouraging others to let information slip.

  Frank continued, “Lincoln isn’t faring any better. With war costs and casualties up, Yankees are grumbling just as loud as unhappy Southerners. With our agents operating out of Canada and with the help of northern antiwar Copperheads, maybe he’ll get put out of office in November, or he’ll be so occupied with getting reelected that he won’t keep his mind on the war. Those Copperheads and plenty of Democrats are ready to make peace, to restore the Union to the way it was before the war.”