Had she read those sentences correctly? Pleasantly surprised, Carrie moved to the table and sat down then reread the letter from the top before moving on.
We have not known each other long, barely a month. Half of that time I spent in the presence of my regiment rather than in your delightful company. Nevertheless, I have come to admire your wit, bravery, and honesty, the latter of which I deem a rare and precious commodity. Let it always be so—that we are perfectly honest with one another despite this war and societal pressures. Please allow me to begin in such straightforward sincerity and declare my true self.
After the intimate moment we shared last week—
A pleasurable heat worked its way up Carrie’s neck, blossoming in her face as she recalled their kiss.
—I realized that I hold you in the highest possible regard. When I close my eyes to sleep, it is your lovely blue eyes I see shining in the darkness. It is your smile that lights my way. These words come from the innermost workings of my heart—a heart which you have completely won and only awaits your claim. I will be the happiest man in all of Virginia—and the world—if our “ruse” can become reality.
Eternally Yours,
Colonel P. B. Collier
Cavalry Division, Army of the Shenandoah
Carrie folded the letter as her mind swam. Could this really be happening? She felt like jumping out of her chair and shouting for joy, although she was certain it wasn’t proper behavior for a lady. However, it didn’t stop the little giggle from bubbling out.
She hadn’t been prepared for a real marriage proposal, for their ruse to become a reality. Of course, it’s what she’d been dreaming of and praying for, but—
What would Papa say? Sobering, Carrie ran her finger along the crease of the letter. Papa would like Peyton. She felt sure of it. Her gaze fell on Peyton’s missive. All her life she’d wished for a love letter. Today she’d received it.
A knock at the door gave her a start. She stood and stuffed Peyton’s letter into her pocket. “Come in.”
“Carrie Ann?” Aunt Ruth looked cautious as she stepped into the room. “Are you all right? You didn’t receive bad news, did you?”
“No.” But this happy moment still had a surreal feel to it. “It wasn’t bad news. Peyton simply reiterated his plan for us to further discuss the matter of our … wedding ruse.”
“Hmm …” Aunt Ruth seemed to digest the information. “I see. Then all is well?”
“Quite well. Thank you.” Could it be her hero loved her as much as she loved him? Truth to tell, such good things just didn’t happen to a girl like Carrie Ann Bell.
But perhaps they happened to Carrie Ann Collier.
Two days later, Ruth awoke with a start. She sat up in bed, her room dark in the predawn hours. Moments later a shell exploded nearby, shaking the glass panes on her windows. Was that what awakened her? Cannonading?
“Mercy!” They had to take cover.
Her body stiff with age, Ruth forced herself out from beneath her warm bedcovers and pulled on her wrapper. She left her room and strode down the hallway. “Carrie Ann?” She knocked on her door. “Carrie Ann, wake up.” She proceeded toward the stairs and stopped by Tommy’s room. Giving a few knocks, she called his name. “Wake up, Tommy.”
He was in the hallway before Carrie Ann, and surprisingly he was already dressed in baggy blue trousers and a wrinkled cambric shirt. “I think fighting has commenced nearby,” he said. “It started about a half hour ago.”
“Then we must stay clear of the outer walls.” Ruth willed her arthritic knees to bend with each stair. “Will you see that Carrie Ann is awake while I rouse Tabitha?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We’ll meet in the dining room.”
Another shell exploded some distance away, but close enough that it rattled the pans hanging in the kitchen. Yet, in spite of its percussion, Ruth guessed the cannon were miles away. But which army fired them?
“Tabitha! Wake up, dear. Winchester may be under another attack.” It amazed Ruth that, while still sleepy, she felt more exhilarated than afraid. “I suspect the Union army is firing on the Confederates, but I don’t know for sure.”
Lord, command Your angels concerning Peyton and us. Ruth kept knocking until Tabitha opened the door to her quarters.
“You’re liable to wake the dead and not just this household.” She yawned.
“We’d best make plans. We may have to retreat to the cellar.”
“Now, Ruth, calm yourself. War ain’t no stranger to this town.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ll dress and be out in a few minutes.” The door closed in Ruth’s face.
“Well! Some folks certainly are testy in the morning.” Ruth didn’t bother to lower her voice, but she prepared a pot of coffee and set it on the stove to boil. Tabitha would appreciate that.
Then she headed for the stairway. About halfway up, Ruth heard the front door close and then Carrie Ann’s voice sailed down from over the railing above her.
“Tommy just left to see what he could find out.”
“Very good.” Satisfied that everything had been set in motion, Ruth walked to her room and dressed.
Three hours later, Tommy returned, his face flushed, his breathing heavy. Standing in the parlor, he pulled his hat off his head, revealing a head of damp brown hair. “The Army of the Shenandoah finally attacked Early’s troops, except their wagons got backed up on the Berryville Pike.” He wore a wide grin that stretched nearly from ear to ear. “And you should have heard the words coming out of General Sheridan’s mouth.”
“No need to repeat them,” Ruth warned. “I’m sure we’d be scandalized if you did.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A more sober expression darkened the young man’s features. “Anderson’s men were well on their way to rejoin Lee at Petersburg when the cannonading began. We boxed in Early’s men near Stephenson’s Depot with no escape going south.” Another smile broke.
“What exciting news!” Even so, Ruth wondered if the United States Army would be victorious in the Valley at long last. The Union army had come so close in the past, only to be overtaken again by the Rebels.
“I gotta do something.” Tommy slammed his right fist into the hat he held with his left hand. He gazed at Carrie Ann, hope glimmering in his eyes. “I’ll leave the colonel’s pistol for you ladies and I’ll take the Repeater with me.”
“No.” Carrie Ann stepped forward, looking determined. “Colonel Collier wouldn’t want that. Besides, we need you here to protect us.”
“You know how to shoot a gun, Miss Carrie Ann. I’ve seen you do it.”
This was news to Ruth. With renewed interest, she glanced at her new niece. “You’re capable with a pistol?”
“More than capable.” Tommy looked proud. “She hardly missed a single empty can of beans on the fence rail when we were practicing one afternoon in camp.”
Carrie Ann seemed to ignore the compliment, such as it was. “Tommy, you should stay here with us.”
“What if I don’t volunteer to fight? Instead I’ll find the colonel and ask how I can help. Maybe he’ll want me to deliver messages up and down the line. I’ve done that before.”
Carrie Ann stood her ground for a time, but finally relented. Tommy ran out of the house, eager to join the men he so obviously loved like brethren.
The gunfire and shelling continued but still a safe distance away, so an hour later Carrie cautiously ventured out with hopes of discovering if the army was heading into Winchester and whether they should seek refuge in the cellar. Ruth worried about her, but Carrie returned just after the grandfather clock in the parlor chimed eleven, saying that General Ramseur’s line had given way and that scores of wounded men, many in ambulances, had begun arriving in town.
“One officer told me that those who can make it will be taken to Staunton.” Carrie Ann dropped her shawl on a nearby chair, then untied the ribbon beneath her chin and removed her cap. “But it looked to me like
the majority of wounded won’t survive the journey. They’re lying on the street from the corner of Piccadilly all the way down Market, but I couldn’t get through the chaos to see clearly.”
Ruth nodded. “Quite all right, dear. You’ve brought a lot of news.”
“Oh, but there’s more.”
“I was afraid of that.” Ruth sat in her favorite place on the settee.
“It was an amazing sight. Confederate soldiers are running through town, away from the battle. A handful of secessionist ladies are standing in the street, arm in arm, begging them to turn around and fight like men, but they kept on running.”
“Good news for our side.”
“I suppose it is.” A dimple formed above her right eyebrow. “The sight of all those wounded is upsetting, to say the least, and we may soon have company if they get down this far west.”
“We need to prepare.” Ruth got right to work, collecting her laudanum bottle and gathering all the linens she could spare. Returning to the parlor, she instructed Carrie Ann and Tabitha to begin tearing bed sheets into strips, some wide, some narrow, which could be used for bandages.
Getting comfortable on the settee, Ruth joined in the task. No sooner had she torn several pieces of cloth when a knock sounded at the front door. Tabitha stood to answer it, but Frances and Lavinia rushed in unannounced.
“Ruth? Ruth?”
“In the parlor, Frances.”
Both women appeared at the doorway. “Yankees are attacking Winchester, and I’m sure you’re as pleased as punch about it!” Frances’s voice shook with unmistakable outrage and obvious fear. “How dare they! Doesn’t Sheridan know he can’t win?”
“Apparently not.” Ruth smiled at Carrie Ann.
Lavinia lifted her eyes upward as if muttering an oath loud enough for all to hear. “If I so much as get one ash on this new gown, I’ll sue the Yankee army.”
Ruth’s gaze fell over the dress, a lovely peach creation that complemented Lavinia’s dark hair. She glanced again at Carrie, who sat nearby wearing a simple brown calico and tore bandages quite expertly. There was no question as to whom Ruth preferred. The dress certainly did not make the woman!
Still, she’d made that loathsome promise to Harm …
“You’re welcome to join us here, ladies.” Ruth held out her right arm, welcoming her neighbors. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
“I think we should go down into your pappy’s secret cellar.” Frances hugged herself and rubbed her arms. “I’d feel safer down there.”
“But then we won’t know what’s happening.” Carrie Ann’s gaze fixed on Ruth. “Tommy might return with news from Peyton. Wounded soldiers might need our help.” She shook her head and several auburn curls broke free from their pins and dropped alongside her face. “I’ll stay up here if you all prefer to go down.”
Poor Carrie Ann. The dear girl worried over Peyton’s safety as much as Ruth and Tabitha did. A smile pulled at the corner of Ruth’s mouth. How precious Carrie Ann had become. Truly, Ruth’s blunder had proved a blessing.
“I believe we’re all safe enough here in the parlor for now.” Ruth met Frances’s anxious gaze, then Lavinia’s seemingly perturbed one. “You ladies are welcome to keep us company as we work. We recently heard that wounded men are coming into town.”
“I want no part of tending to wounded soldiers.” Frances wrinkled her nose.
“Nor do I.” Lavinia shuddered.
“We’re much too sensitive for the job, Ruth dear,” Frances explained.
“Yes, as you’ve made it known in the past.” Ruth wrestled with indignation. Why, Frances couldn’t tend to her dying husband even a little by sitting at his side and reading to him.
Tabitha gave a derisive snort.
Frances glared at the black woman. “Are you going to offer us some tea? That would be the proper thing to do.”
“Getting these bandages ready is the proper thing to do,” Tabitha sassed. “Besides, it ain’t teatime.”
“Really, Ruth, you must instill manners into this slave of yours.”
Carrie Ann looked ready to speak in Tabitha’s defense, but Ruth caught her attention by a wag of her head before a single, and likely regrettable, word rolled off her new niece’s tongue. While Ruth admired Carrie Ann’s intellect and opinions, squabbling with the Monteagues wasn’t wise. If provoked, Frances and Lavinia might divulge secrets—secrets that could result in Piccadilly Place getting burned to the ground, Tabitha being harmed, or worse!
“Ladies, let’s just keep tearing these linens and rolling them into bandages,” Ruth said. “And praying. Let’s keep praying.”
It was just before three o’clock when the noise of war increased. Ruth rushed to the window. Seeing only several plain-clothed horsemen ride by, a strange mix of disappointment and relief assailed her. “The action must be taking place east of here.”
“I’ll go take a look.”
Carrie Ann was out the front door before Ruth could stop her. Seconds later, a projectile whistled over the house and exploded close enough to shake the floor on which she stood.
For the first time today, Ruth felt fear—fear of harm coming to Carrie Ann. Why, Peyton would be heartbroken if something happened to her …
And so would Ruth.
She rushed to the front door, relieved to see Carrie Ann hurrying up the porch stairs. Deep frown lines were etched on her forehead, and the little mar above her eyebrow looked more pronounced. All the while smoke billowed in the unnaturally darkened sky, and gunfire cracked in her wake.
“Aunt Ruth,” she said, panting as she entered the house, “I believe it’s time for us to take shelter in the cellar.”
CHAPTER 22
Aunt Ruth slid aside a giant section of bookshelf in the library, revealing a paneled door. Lamp in one hand, Tabitha opened it with the other, and then led the way down the darkened stairwell. The Monteague ladies followed closely behind her. Carrie walked down ahead of Aunt Ruth, holding onto her arm in case the older woman had a misstep. Behind them, the bookshelf slammed shut on a spring mechanism and the stairwell grew dark, save for the little bit of lamplight farther down.
“Be careful of your footing, Aunt Ruth.”
“My dear girl, I could walk down these stairs in my sleep—and, in fact, I have.” Her laughter had a merry sound to it which seemed odd considering the dire situation. “Winchester has endured two previous attacks, the last being in ’63, when General Ewell’s troops defeated General Milroy and captured Winchester.” She sighed. “I hated to see General Milroy and his wife leave town.”
“He was a brute, Ruth.” Mrs. Monteague’s voice came from several steps below.
“Only to the secessionists,” Aunt Ruth said. “Personally, I found the Milroys to be quite amiable.”
“You’re able to find commanders on both sides amiable, Ruth. How do you do it?”
“By charm and sheer wit, my dear Frances.”
“And my cookin’ don’t hurt either,” Tabitha drawled.
Smiling at the debate, Carrie Ann made certain that Aunt Ruth’s foot landed square on the dirt floor before releasing her arm. Cool air enveloped Carrie. Then, beneath the lamplight, she strained to survey the large basement. Half of it was set up like a sitting room and had more furniture than did the parlor upstairs. The other half was filled with paintings wrapped in brown paper and other unidentifiable items.
“This is our secret cellar where we keep everything we don’t want the Rebel army to get its greedy hands on,” Aunt Ruth said as if reading Carrie’s thoughts.
“Oh, now, Ruth,” Mrs. Monteague scolded, “you know the Yankees are just as greedy.”
“I suppose some are, yes. I can’t argue with you there.”
Confusion descended on Carrie. “Here I thought we were going into the same cellar where the canned foodstuff is kept.”
“That’s on the other side of the brick wall there.” Aunt Ruth pointed to the far end of the basement. “As you know, that
cellar can be accessed from outside the kitchen and it’s raided frequently by both armies as well as deserters and guerrillas. I wouldn’t hide any of my valuables in that cellar.”
Carrie agreed. They wouldn’t be safe there.
“When he built the house, my father dug out this basement then fortified this room with brick. He possessed the forethought to hide his valuables and his family from British soldiers if the need arose.”
Carrie was still familiarizing herself with her surroundings. “What if the house starts on fire? How will we escape?”
“Through this here,” Tabitha said, patting the paneled doorway behind her. “These stairs lead to an opening beneath the back porch, although one of you young ladies will have to crawl on your belly and then push out the latticework so the rest of us can get out.”
“I hope you won’t expect me to do any crawling today.” Lavinia Monteague sank into one of the two settees.
“Of course not.” Carrie knew that left her to accomplish the task. She sat in an armchair. “I’ll crawl out if the need arises.”
“But there might be snakes under the porch. Aren’t you frightened?”
“No, they’ll hear me coming, Miss Monteague.” Carrie felt sure she’d met more frightening vipers, the human kind, at the Wayfarers Inn. “Besides, I’m more concerned about Peyton’s welfare than my own right now.”
“Of course you are, my dear girl.” Aunt Ruth reached for her hand.
“Peyton should be the least of your worries,” Lavinia said above the rustling of her skirts as she shifted her sitting position. “My brother Edward and that handsome Colonel Kent are fighting for the Confederacy, for real freedom, and you don’t see a single one of my nerves frayed.”
Carrie’s mind had parked on the words for real freedom. Was she serious? It would seem so, judging from her comment. Nonetheless, Carrie couldn’t bring herself to challenge Lavinia’s statement and scrambled to find a safe topic. “Are you … romantically interested in Colonel Kent?”
“Every unattached female in Winchester is romantically interested in the man.” Lavinia raised her chin. “However, I do think he’s particularly fond of me. I told him I’d write to him every day.”
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