A Thousand Shall Fall

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “You can trust that I won’t breathe a word of what you just told me.”

  Carrie assumed as much.

  “And the men who brought you here? Peyton trusted them?”

  “He did, but only because General Sheridan was convinced they were Union scouts. But they’re not, and you were correct when you referred to them as scoundrels, although one of them tried to protect me.”

  “Thank God for him anyway.” After peering out the window, Aunt Ruth laughed softly and faced her once more. “But you needn’t worry. Eli’s taking care of them.”

  “I’m grateful.”

  Aunt Ruth turned from the window. “I take it that Peyton told you about Eli?”

  Carrie nodded.

  “A pity Eli is a Confederate.” A long sigh. “Like General Robert E. Lee, who we loyalists wish would have taken our side, Eli is a fine gentleman and would have been a credit to the Union army.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take your word for it, although I must say Colonel Collier is also a fine gentleman and officer. He saved my life.”

  “Is that so?” Aunt Ruth sat down and indicated that Carrie should do likewise. “Do tell of the rescue.”

  “I’m happy to.” Carrie thought back on that day. “I was heading down the Valley in search of my runaway sister, Sarah Jane …”

  She’s in love with him—or, at the very least, infatuated. Definitely devoted. Ruth could see it reflected in Miss Carrie Ann Bell’s eyes as she spoke about Peyton. And she was very attractive, with her curly hair, the color of glowing embers, braided and pinned. But a serving girl from Woodstock? Originally from a farm?

  Ruth quickly reminded herself that this very home was once a farmhouse after the Revolutionary War. Twenty-five years later, and needing money, Pappy sold Granddad’s wheat fields and cornfields, upon which neighbors built their homes—including the Monteagues’ next door.

  “My father is a journalist.”

  “Oh?” Ruth pulled her attention back to her guest. That was notable employment.

  “I’m very proud of him.” A particular light, a mix perhaps of pride and awe, filled her blue eyes. “He left Woodstock in ’62 alongside General Jackson’s troops. He decided to record the hopes, fears, and determination of the Confederate troops first. Papa’s last letter was postmarked from Washington, so I presume he’s documenting the Union’s side of things now. Perhaps he’s even met President Abraham Lincoln.”

  “How impressive.” Ruth wouldn’t steal the girl’s thunder and say she’d met Abraham and Mary Lincoln numerous times. As one of Lincoln’s more generous contributors, Ruth received her share of invitations to various Washington social functions.

  At least she used to. However, as long as the Confederates maintained control of Winchester and continued destroying railroad tracks to the north, travel to Washington was nearly impossible. Of course Peyton had wanted Ruth to remain in the capitol after his recovery, but she just couldn’t leave Tabitha here on her own.

  “Did you enjoy your work at the inn?” Ruth held her breath, praying the young lady did not enjoy her days as a serving girl even a little.

  “No, ma’am.”

  She exhaled.

  “Mama—that is, my stepmother, my sisters, and I worked there for our room and board after our farm burned down.”

  Ruth listened to the sad account. Yes, the fear of destruction to their homes and properties was on most everyone’s mind these days.

  “My ambition is to follow in my father’s footsteps and be a journalist too. I ran his newspaper after he left Woodstock. In fact, Colonel Collier actually read one of my articles last year. That’s when we first met. I stitched a gash in his arm.”

  Ruth knew of the incident, as Peyton had spoken of the girl—an aspiring author. “You’re the one!” It all made sense now, why he would send Miss Carrie Ann Bell here. “I have seen that scar. Indeed, you made very neat stitches.”

  “Thank you.” Her cheeks pinked and she glanced around the room. Obviously she disliked having the attention on herself, which spoke well of her character. “What would you like me to do first, Miss Collier?”

  “Aunt Ruth.”

  “Aunt Ruth.” Another blush.

  “And I should call you Carrie Ann. After all, you’re supposedly my niece. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Now, to answer your question, what did you mean by … do?”

  “The colonel hired me to be your companion.”

  “Companion?” The idea tickled Ruth. “I have no need for a companion, my dear.”

  A tiny dimple appeared above Carrie Ann’s right eyebrow. “But I can’t sit around here and do nothing all day and expect you to provide me with room and board. I need to work for it.”

  She’s used to earning her keep. Ruth put the pieces together like a puzzle and concluded that Peyton had hired the young lady to be a companion; she wouldn’t have accepted his invitation to come here to Piccadilly Place otherwise. And, of course, Peyton hadn’t been able to discuss the matter of a companion with Ruth because he hadn’t been home to do so. However, he could have stated something about it in his missive regarding Carrie Ann’s arrival. Mercy! Peyton had caught her by surprise.

  Ruth noted Carrie Ann’s troubled expression. Obviously Peyton wanted the young lady here for a reason, and perhaps the only way to get her here had been to promise her employment.

  “I must admit,” Ruth began, “my nephew is always thinking of my needs even before I realize I have them. A companion would be most appreciated.”

  The young lady released a heavy breath and visibly relaxed.

  “Let us continue getting to know each other and then I’ll put a list together for, um, companion duties.”

  “Thank you, Miss Collier … Aunt Ruth.” Another frown. “But I suppose when we’re in private I should refer to you as Miss Collier. That would be more fitting for my station.”

  “Nonsense, dear girl, a companion is so much more to me than a mere hireling. A companion, as I see it, is part of the family.”

  “Thank you. It’s nice being included in your family as mine has completely unraveled.”

  “Oh! Then I’m doubly glad my nephew rescued you.”

  Splashes of pink appeared on Carrie Ann’s cheeks, quickly spreading downward to her neck. There was no question in Ruth’s mind as to the young lady’s intentions. She obviously had no designs on Peyton’s inheritance. She was in love, plain and simple. Goodness, but she was as easy to read as a Waverley novel.

  And on that thought …

  “Do you enjoy books, Carrie Ann?”

  “Yes, books and newspapers both.”

  “Have you read North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell?”

  “I have, yes.” She smiled with what seemed like fond recollection. “Papa always said it’s the book that molded me into a humanitarian. That and the Bible, of course.”

  “Of course. And what is your favorite work of fiction thus far?”

  “That’s easy. It’s Emma by Jane Austen.”

  “I should have guessed it. Most young ladies enjoy Austen novels.”

  “When I was a little girl, I used to imagine that I was Emma. I practiced talking like she did and walking regally as though I were she. I’d recite various passages, such as”—Carrie Ann stood—“‘I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.’” She lifted her chin and proceeded to act out a particular scene. “‘Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.’”

  Ruth laughed and applauded. “Brava!”

  Carrie Ann made a grand curtsey.

  Eli darkened the parlor’s doorway just then and set down her haversack. Carrie Ann quickly sat and smoothed the folds of her skirt over her lap as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Ruth, however, couldn’t stop smiling. What fun she and Carrie Ann would have!

  “Pardon my interruption, ladies.” He gave a little bow. “I brought in your belongings, Miss Bell.”


  “Thank you.”

  “Come in, Colonel Kent.”

  He entered, pausing near Carrie Ann’s chair. By now the young lady’s cheeks had turned cherry red.

  “I chided those men for their bad manners, Miss Bell, and refused them your horse.”

  “Again, my thanks, Colonel Kent.”

  Eli wore a sheepish grin and Ruth guessed what was coming next.

  “Unfortunately, I must confiscate the mount. The Confederate army is in desperate need of horses and yours is a fine animal.”

  Carrie Ann sprang to her feet. In a heartbeat, she abandoned her chagrin for indignation. “But that horse was given to me … selected especially for me.” She softened her tone, her blue eyes pleading. “Please? Won’t you let me keep him?”

  Ruth observed the exchange, ready to intercede if necessary. If Peyton were in Eli’s shoes, he wouldn’t be able to refuse such a sweet pout. Could Eli?

  “Miss Bell, as much as I would like to give in to your request, I can’t because of standing orders that come from my superiors.”

  “From General Ramseur?”

  Was she fact-finding? Ruth touched her fingertips to her chin and tilted her head. Carrie Ann would make a delightful Union spy. She appeared so innocent. What soldier wouldn’t divulge information and perhaps brag a little on himself in the process?

  “The orders came from General Lee himself,” Eli said. “As I said, horses are in great demand everywhere in the South.”

  “I’m aware of that, but—”

  “Again, my apologies, but I can’t disobey an order so that’s the end of it.”

  “Carrie Ann, take heart.” Ruth stood, sensing the end to Eli’s patience too. “If one army doesn’t take that horse, the other army will—that is, if deserters don’t steal it first. You might as well allow the colonel to have him.”

  “What choice do I have?”

  Grinning, Eli took a step closer to her. “I’ll tell you what, Miss Bell, once this war is over I will personally see that you get another horse—an even finer one.”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t accept such a gift.”

  “Colonel Kent comes from a wealthy Richmond family,” Ruth said with a small shrug. “Let him buy you a horse.”

  “No, thank you, Colonel.”

  So she’s a mite stubborn too. Ruth made a mental note.

  “Then allow me, Miss Bell, to make up for this entire unpleasant affair by escorting you this evening to a celebratory party in town.”

  Ruth stared on. Seemed Peyton had competition. Then again, Eli and Peyton were always rivals, gentlemanly rivals, at least until the war broke out.

  “I’m honored by your invitation, Colonel, but I must refuse. I’ve had a long journey and I’m much too exhausted for a party.” She looked at Ruth. “I’ll probably fall asleep, standing right here, and won’t wake up for days.”

  “Then I’d best see you to your room.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Ruth.” Carrie Ann turned to Eli. “I hope you understand, Colonel.”

  “I do, of course.” He bowed politely.

  Tabitha entered. “Excuse me, Colonel, Miss Ruth …” She dutifully played her part of housekeeper well whenever they were occupied by Eli or another Confederate officer. “I made a meal for our guest.” Tabitha’s dark eyes rested on Carrie Ann. “You must be hungry.”

  “Famished!” With a parting glance at Eli and then Ruth, Carrie Ann crossed the room and followed Tabitha toward the kitchen.

  Eli’s gaze lingered in her wake. “She’s quite delightful, although”—he turned to Ruth—“she nearly got herself killed, arguing and fussing with those men the way she did.”

  “You must admit they weren’t the most savory of characters.”

  “Exactly. I’d hate to see something dreadful happen to your niece.”

  “Thank you, Eli.” Ruth reclaimed her seat. “I’ll speak with her about the matter.”

  He grinned. “Seems as though she inherited your pluck.”

  “Afraid so.” Ruth narrowed her gaze. “Now, see here, Eli, I’ll not have you trifling with her.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Ruth nodded in slight satisfaction, although Eli didn’t look the least bit deterred. “At any rate, she doesn’t have the pedigree that your family desires for your future wife. Her father is a journalist by vocation and a farmer by trade in Woodstock.”

  “My family comes from a long line of horse breeders and tobacco farmers. The occupations are quite similar, really.”

  “Except farmers rarely own slaves.”

  “My father freed his slaves years before the war broke out. Those who chose to stay were compensated.” Eli cleared his throat. “But back to the more pleasant subject of Miss Bell—she seems well-spoken and mannerly, and that says much to her having more education than many young ladies.” His forehead crinkled and his dark gaze reflected his puzzlement. “She’s not Peyton’s sister? I understood you had only one brother, Aunt Ruth?”

  Oh dear … “I should have specified. Yes. Carrie’s stepfather is a journalist and farmer.” Ruth gave a dramatic sigh as she altered the facts. “Alas, it’s no secret that my brother was something of a philanderer.” That statement was as true as April rain.

  She paused to allow Eli to draw his own conclusions.

  “She’s Peyton’s half sister?”

  Ruth’s fingertips flitted to her neckline. Mindful of the pesky nervous habit, she clasped her hands and placed them in her lap. “I would appreciate your discretion.”

  “Of course.”

  “I only recently learned that she existed, but I’ve grown fond of her and you can see why.”

  “Most certainly.” Eli smiled and seemed to accept the piece of fiction without further inquiry. “She’s obviously both intelligent and brave, although she needs someone to protect her from confronting the wrong man.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Ruth sensed Eli wasn’t about to give up thoughts of pursuing Carrie Ann. Rumor had it that unattached females of marrying age were a rare commodity from here all the way to Richmond.

  “Is she spoken for? Promised to another?”

  “Promised? I’m not sure, but I believe Carrie Ann has given her heart away to another. We were just getting to those details.”

  “Ah …” Eli momentarily pursed his lips. “If she’s not betrothed, then I suppose I could still get my foot in the door, so to speak.”

  “There’s always that possibility.” Ruth wouldn’t discourage him just yet. She would rather let Carrie Ann speak for herself. Besides, all Ruth had to go on at this point was an assumption, although the fact that Carrie Ann so quickly refused Eli’s invitation reinforced the hunch that she harbored romantic feelings for Peyton.

  “While I would rather entertain your new guest today, I have work to do.” With a gentlemanly bow, he backed up toward the parlor’s doorway. “I’ll see you at supper this evening, Aunt Ruth.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Eli took his leave and Ruth headed for the kitchen. It appeared that, like her horse, Carrie Ann was in high demand.

  CHAPTER 16

  “This bedroom …” Carrie glanced around the pretty, albeit faded papered room. A cherry-finished four-poster bed occupied the far wall, complete with an ivory lace dust ruffle. She ambled to it and ran her hand along the top of the patchwork quilt. Then she noticed the two plump feather pillows resting at the headboard. How she ached to stretch out and sleep. Glancing at her hostess, Carrie felt ashamed to admit that she hadn’t slept in a real bed since the farm burned down and, even then, she’d shared the bed with her two sisters. “I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable here. Thank you, Aunt Ruth.”

  “Your room at the inn in Woodstock was nicer, I imagine.”

  “On the contrary. My mother—rather, stepmother, sisters, and I shared a very small space.”

  “Seems to me that innkeeper should have, at least, provided adequate rooms for you all.”

  “At t
he time of our bargain, I was desperate for lodging. My sisters were young and tired and our mother was ill of mind as a result of the fire. I accepted Mr. Veyschmidt’s less-than-fair terms so we’d have a roof over our heads.”

  “I’m sorry to hear you were put in such a regrettable position.”

  “Don’t pity me. My family and I have fared better than many in the Valley.”

  “My pity is not easily given, I assure you.”

  Carrie took the woman’s words to heart. “The hardships of so many are the reasons I didn’t dare complain to Mr. Veyschmidt about our cramped accommodations.” She walked to the small round cherry-finished table with its two matching hard-back chairs. They’d been placed near the window. She could write here, and Carrie felt blessed, indeed. “In any case, I’m very glad to be here.”

  “Do you plan on returning to Woodstock anytime soon?” Aunt Ruth strode to the large oak wardrobe, standing tall beside a dressing table and mirror.

  “No. I can better help my family by working for you.”

  Everything came into question again. Carrie supposed she was obligated to send back money, despite the fact that her stepmother and Margaret weren’t her direct relation. She felt certain Joshua hadn’t lied. Why would he? What could he possibly hope to gain by lying? But regardless of whether it was true or not, they were all the family she’d ever known.

  “Mr. Veyschmidt doesn’t pay us with cash money,” she added softly. “Room and board only.”

  “Hmm …”

  Aunt Ruth eyed her closely—or was it critically?

  “I’m a very hard worker, and capable. You can assign me any duties and I’ll prove it.”

  “My dear, I don’t doubt your abilities.”

  “Forgive me for assuming you did.”

  “All is forgiven. After all, it’s difficult to know whom one can trust these days.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it surely is.”