Dearest Enemy

by Nan Ryan

  The caring physician had stopped by to check on Emile, as he did regularly. After spending a few minutes with his frail patient, listening to Emile’s heart, checking her pulse and assuring her that by spring she’d be fit as a fiddle, he came back downstairs.

  Suzanna was waiting in the foyer to question him about the progress of the war. At her insistence, he shared the latest news. News that was not favorable. He had, he told her, heard that the Federals had attacked the Confederate positions on Roanoke Island, off the coast of North Carolina.

  “The Union Navy sent in such a large fleet they easily overwhelmed the Confederates. The ships unmercifully bombarded the Rebels dug in along the shore.” He shook his head sadly. “The Rebs couldn’t hold their position against such a mighty force. Those that weren’t killed had no choice but to surrender.”

  Suzanna gritted her teeth and silently cursed the Union’s powerful navy. In frustration she said, “When the war began, everyone—you included—said it would be over within weeks. It’s coming up on a year and…” Her words trailed away. Then she asked point-blank, “Are they going to beat us, Doctor Ledet?”

  “Us? My dear, I’ve warned you time and again about referring to the Confederacy as ‘us.’ I’m constantly careful, and you must be as well. If you and Emile refuse to flee, then you must pretend alliance with the Union.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I only confide in you.” She sighed wearily. “Everyone else on our side is gone.”

  “Not quite everyone,” he said with a sly smile. “Last evening I was at the home of one of Washington’s most noted hostesses, an old friend I’ve known for years.” He looked around as if someone might be listening, then lowered his voice to just above a whisper and confided, “Mattie Kirkendal frequently entertains Yankee officers in her palatial mansion.” He paused for effect. “I’ll betray a confidence here, because you and your family go back a long way. Mattie Kirkendal strongly sympathizes with the Confederacy.” His light eyes twinkled.

  Suzanna’s eyes twinkled as well. “And hosting these parties for Yankee officers allows her to learn the enemy’s pernicious secrets. Mattie Kirkendal is a spy for the Confederacy!”

  “Shh. Now, Suzanna, don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.” He took hold of her elbow and guided her into the drawing room. Continuing to speak in low tones, he asked, “Have you ever heard of a lady named Rose O’Neal Greenhow?”

  Suzanna shook her head.

  “Mrs. Greenhow was also a prominent Washington hostess who sympathized with the South. It is said she was responsible for the Confederate victory at Manassas last summer. She managed to get an important ten-word message to General Beauregard that helped win the battle!”

  Her blue eyes dancing with excitement, Suzanna said, “That’s it!”

  “That’s what?” The doctor’s brows knitted.

  “Get me an invitation to one of Mattie Kirkendal’s social gatherings. Can you do that?”

  “I suppose I could, but…”

  “How old is this Mattie Kirkendal?”

  The doctor shrugged. “Mmm, mid to late fifties. Why?”

  Suzanna’s smile was cold, calculating. “If a middle-aged woman can pry secrets out of the enemy, think what I might be able to glean.”

  The doctor was already shaking his head worriedly. “No! Absolutely not! I have made a dire mistake in discussing this with you. I shouldn’t have told you about Mrs. Kirkendal or Rose Greenhow. Did I fail to mention that Mrs. Greenhow is now in prison? You don’t understand, child. Spying against the Union is punishable by death!”

  “Only if you’re caught,” she stated coolly. “I won’t be.”

  Stern and fatherly now, Dr. Ledet said, “You just put such wild notions right out of your head and forget all about this. As I said, I should never have mentioned—”

  “I will not forget about it! I know now exactly how I can be of use, and I am going to do it. You refuse to help? You won’t get me an invitation to one of Mrs. Kirkendal’s affairs?”

  The doctor wore a pained expression. “Please, Suzanna, you mustn’t even consider such a dangerous endeavor. Why, it would kill poor Emile if—”

  “Doctor,” Suzanna interrupted. “What’s killing my poor mother is the loss of her only son. And although she is unaware of it, we are losing most of the family fortune as well. If this war drags on much longer, we will be left with nothing.”

  “Surely it won’t come to that, my dear.”

  As if he hadn’t spoken, Suzanna said firmly, “I am going to spy for the Confederacy with or without your help. My mind is made up.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. You have no idea what you’d be letting yourself in for.” His face flushed when he added, “You are much too young and innocent to realize what unpleasant…ah…chores might be required of you.”

  “Tell me,” she said. “What exactly would I have to do?”

  The physician exhaled heavily. “Suzanna, you’re a very beautiful young woman and…these Union officers that Mattie entertains would undoubtedly be physically attracted to you.”

  “Well, I should hope so,” she stated emphatically. “Else how would I ever get any pertinent information out of them?”

  His brow was furrowed. “Must I spell it out for you, child? Do you actually suppose that all you’d need do was smile at these seasoned officers to make them confide in you?”

  “I am willing to do whatever it takes to bring down the Yankees,” she said defiantly, chin raised.

  Nine

  Suzanna wasted no more valuable time.

  That very afternoon, after Dr. Ledet had gone and her mother was napping, she had Durwood bring the carriage around to drive her across the river. When she reached the baronial, two-story mansion of the wealthy widow, Mattie Kirkendal, a distinguished-looking butler answered the bell. Suzanna handed him a note of introduction from one Dr. Milton Ledet.

  “If you’ll kindly wait in the drawing room,” the butler instructed, taking Suzanna’s fur-lined cape.

  He directed her into a spacious parlor where expensive oil paintings hung on silk-covered walls, and overstuffed chairs and sofas of shimmering brocade faced a blazing fire in the huge, marble-manteled fireplace. Suzanna moved toward the blaze, stretching her cold hands to its warmth.

  “Miss LeGrande?” A throaty female voice soon came from behind her, and Suzanna turned to see a short, stout, handsomely dressed, gray-haired woman whose round face immediately broke into a wide smile. Hands extended in greeting, the woman eagerly bore down on Suzanna, saying, “My dear, welcome to my home. I’m Mattie Kirkendal.”

  “Suzanna LeGrande, Mrs. Kirkendal,” she answered, taking the soft, plump hands.

  “My, my, aren’t you a lovely little thing! Absolutely exquisite!”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Kirkendal,” Suzanna said, embarrassed by the flattery.

  “Call me Mattie. Now come, Suzanna, let’s you and I sit and get acquainted. Dr. Ledet’s note gave me very little information other than the fact that he has been your family physician and friend for many years. He gave no hint as to why you would want to meet me. So tell me about yourself. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure on such a cold afternoon?”

  As the two women settled themselves on one of the brocade sofas, a servant appeared bearing a silver tray with a china plate of golden-brown croissants and two steaming cups of a dark, thick beverage.

  “Half coffee, half cocoa,” Mattie Kirkendal pointed out. “You’ll find it quite delicious, I believe.” She reached for a cup. “I’ve served this particular blend of hot chocolate since the days I first tasted it as a young, carefree girl on holiday in Paris. It brings back so many fond memories and…and…”

  Mattie Kirkendal caught the wistful expression that crossed Suzanna’s face at the mention of Paris, and was puzzled. “My dear, what is it? Have I said something to upset you? Did you have an unpleasant experience in Paris?”

 
“I’ve never been to Paris, Mrs. Kirkendal.” Before the older woman could respond, Suzanna said, with a decisive shake of her head, “It’s nothing. Nothing is wrong. Really.”

  But while Mattie Kirkendal gingerly sipped the rich chocolate, Suzanna never touched hers.

  Without preamble, she declared with fervor, “Mrs. Kirkendal, I desperately want to do something—anything—to aid in the war effort and to help the South defeat the Yankees. I will not be content until every last one of the blue-coated devils has gotten what he justly deserves! Therefore I am here to offer my services if you have any need of me.”

  Mattie was surprised and delighted that such a young, beautiful belle would be willing to aid in the Cause. At the same time she was skeptical.

  “And why, pray tell, are you sharing this dangerous desire with me?”

  “I know, Mrs. Kirkendal. I know all about you. Dr. Ledet told me, but please don’t get angry with him. Your secret is safe with me and I admire you for what you’re doing to help the South. I want to be a part of it.”

  “I see. And just what has happened in your young life to cause such fierce passion where the Yankees are concerned?”

  Her blue eyes narrowing, Suzanna said, “They have taken everything from me. Everything. My sweetheart. My brother. My livelihood.”

  The thoughts and words coming in a rush, Suzanna talked of her handsome blond fiancé and her strong, dependable brother. She revealed how her storybook world had been forever altered. She confided that she had been left alone to care for a sickly mother and that the once great LeGrande fortune, which had been carefully amassed by her deceased father, was rapidly dwindling away due to the destructive war. Dry-eyed, she made her case, demonstrating her resolve.

  When at last she fell silent, Mattie Kirkendal said softly, “You’ve suffered far too much for one so young. I can understand your fierce need to make the Yankees pay for your misfortunes. But I am not convinced that you are up to the task of spying for the Confederacy.”

  “Yes, I am,” Suzanna stated with calm authority.

  “You can’t possibly comprehend what you’d be getting yourself into. I can’t allow—”

  “Allow? Allow! Mrs. Kirkendal, with all due respect, it is not up to you to allow me to do anything I’ve set my mind to. If you refuse my services, that’s fine with me. I will find someone else who is eager for my help.”

  Mattie Kirkendal exhaled heavily and set her china cup aside. Frowning, she said, “If you are bound and determined, then…” She shrugged chubby shoulders. “But I must warn you, Suzanna, what you’re volunteering to do will be neither easy nor pleasant.”

  “I never supposed that it would be.”

  Mattie spent the next half hour explaining to Suzanna exactly what would be expected of her. “You realize that you will be called on to dance with, flirt with and butter up the very men you so despise.”

  Undeterred, Suzanna assured Mattie that she was up to the challenge. “I can and will be of invaluable assistance, Mrs. Kirkendal. I have spent many years socializing with friends and acquaintances who have chosen to remain with the Union. I can easily convince them that I have as well. I will spy for the Cause and no one will suspect me.”

  “Bless you, my child,” exclaimed Mattie at last, keenly aware that a beautiful young lady like Suzanna would be an invaluable asset to the Confederacy. “How soon may I expect you to begin to help us?”

  “Today. Now. This afternoon.”

  Mattie laughed heartily and patted Suzanna’s knee. Then she sobered and said, “Are you aware of the punishment for spying on the Union?”

  “Death,” Suzanna stated without emotion. “By hanging.”

  “You are willing to take such a risk?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Suzanna could not be talked out of the perilous scheme. She regretted that she couldn’t share her thrilling secret with her mother, but she didn’t dare confide in the frail Emile, who, if she knew of her daughter’s intention, would surely weep and worry and beg her to reconsider.

  So Suzanna kept the truth a secret. She mentioned casually that she had been invited to a social gathering at a Mrs. Mattie Kirkendal’s and that she wanted to attend.

  Emile agreed that it was a good idea. “Darling, you deserve an evening out occasionally. I hope you enjoy yourself.”

  “I will, Mother,” Suzanna lied. “And you’re not to worry.”

  But when, just forty-eight hours later, Suzanna came into her mother’s bedroom to say good-night before going out, Emile gazed at her strikingly beautiful daughter and became uneasy.

  Buelah, Suzanna’s stalwart maid and the only female servant still at Whitehall, was trailing after her charge, grumbling, “You got no business going out dressed like that, Miz Suzanna. This is not decadent Europe. It’s Washington City and folk’ll think you are a loose woman.”

  Emile, in bed despite the early hour, tossed back the covers and rose to her feet with effort.

  “Suzanna, perhaps Buelah is right, dear. Don’t you have something else you could wear, something more appropriate?”

  “I tried to talk her out of it, Miz Emile,” Buelah said, hands on her hips. “I did my best.”

  “You may go now, Buelah,” said Suzanna. The servant turned and left, still muttering under her breath.

  On this cold winter night, Suzanna was going to a glittering reception at Mattie Kirkendal’s. It was the first of many such social gatherings she would be expected to attend, a gala where there would be a host of prominent guests and a number of Union officers. Officers who were sure to notice her. Suzanna had made certain of that.

  She was dressed for the occasion in a gorgeous gown of shimmering yellow faille. One of the many ball gowns purchased before the war, it had a very tight bodice that accentuated Suzanna’s small waist, and a décolletage cut so low it not only revealed her bare throat and shoulders, it exposed a generous expanse of her pale soft bosom.

  Emile recognized the stunning ball gown as part of the expensive trousseau purchased for her daughter to wear on her Paris honeymoon. Neither it, nor any of the many traveling suits, ball gowns, bonnets and shoes and gloves, lacy lingerie or gossamer negligees had ever been worn. All had been stored away shortly after Ty and Matthew were killed.

  “Suzanna, you’re not really going to wear that to the reception, are you?”

  “Yes, Mother, I am. Since I will never have a honeymoon, never go to Paris, I see no need to save it.”

  Emile stepped close, brushed a flaming lock of hair off her daughter’s bare shoulder, and said, “I know you feel that way now, dear, but in time you’ll find someone else who—”

  “I’m late, Mother. I really must go now.”

  Ten

  Suzanna had inherited uncommon strength, inflexible will and great charm from her father. She would need all three in the endeavor in which she was about to engage. She had volunteered for a thankless ongoing task that would be both distasteful and dangerous. But she never for a moment considered changing her mind and backing out.

  This was war and she had enlisted.

  Now, as the carriage rolled down Connecticut Avenue, then past the White House, Suzanna gazed out at the stately residence and thought of the sallow-faced president who lived there. Was Lincoln half as sorry as she that the nation was bitterly divided? Could he hear, from inside the White House, the low pounding of distant artillery and an occasional crackle of musket fire?

  When the war broke out, Washington, D.C. had immediately turned into a training ground, arsenal and supply depot. In the well-fortified city, streets constantly reverberated under the wheels of heavy cannons. Sacks of flour, stacked against a siege, surrounded the U.S. Treasury, and the Union Army had built a ring of earthen fortifications around the city.

  Sadness swamped Suzanna as she stared at the unfinished dome of the Capitol. She had passed this place so many times in all the different seasons. Now it was the center of the Northern Union! This was no longer her country, but the e
nemy’s. Suzanna looked away, more resolved than ever to make the Yankees pay.

  Soon the carriage turned into the circular drive of Mattie Kirkendal’s palatial, well-lit residence. Suzanna had arrived fashionably late for Mattie’s glittering reception. She had planned it that way. She wanted to attract as much attention as possible when she made her entrance.

  She succeeded.

  Once a servant had taken her wrap and directed her down the wide central corridor to the ballroom, Suzanna paused just outside the open double doors. Male voices, music, laughter and the clink of champagne glasses reached her. She swallowed anxiously, then nervously smoothed her yellow skirts and swept her loose red hair back off her shoulders. She took a deep breath that made her full breasts swell above the top of her low-cut bodice.

  She almost weakened. She wanted to turn and run.

  She closed her eyes and thought of Ty.

  She opened her eyes and confidently stepped forward.

  Utilizing the strongest ammunition in her arsenal—her youthful beauty and charm—Suzanna plunged headlong into battle, taking the ramparts, coolly sizing up the enemy. For a moment that seemed like an hour, she stood framed in the arched doorway, calmly awaiting her hostess.

  Guests quickly caught sight of the flame-haired young woman in the shimmering yellow dress. Laughter lulled. Conversations stopped. Heads snapped around. Men stared. Women frowned.

  Suzanna didn’t flinch under the scrutiny. Beautifully gowned and groomed, she exhibited a cool facade of self-assurance, although inwardly she churned with anxiety and doubt. Could she really go through with this? Could she convince these Union officers that she found them charming and fun and romantic, when actually she despised them all?

  “Ah, there you are now,” trilled Mattie Kirkendal, finally coming forward to greet Suzanna. Leaning close, the older woman said, “I did it on purpose, you know. Left you standing here alone. I wanted to give all the gentlemen ample opportunity to notice you.”