“That’s only the half of it,” the Major interrupted, waving his glass at Ceci. “This rebel fought like the very devil, killed five of our men before a Gatlin gun put an end to it.”
Ceci refilled his glass, and was on her way back to the sideboard as the Major continued.
He leaned over his chair, prodding Josiah’s arm with his finger. “When they examined the body, they discovered it was a young woman.”
Ceci stiffened, her fingers tightening around the decanter. Then she set it purposefully down on the sideboard, turned to face the two men, and listened.
A large chunk of ash fell into Josiah’s lap, as he started forward. “God damn. You don’t say?”
“I do indeed, sir,” the Major reaffirmed. “I ask you, have these southerners no honour? No courage, that they have to send their women against us?”
One of the Bird spies had made the ultimate sacrifice. Ceci hung her head, remembering the little band of eager volunteers, she’d trained with. She recalled all their faces, wondering which one of them had fallen. It brought home to her, the precarious nature of the business they were in. She found herself glancing around the room. These congenial surroundings, this comfortable family home, could become a death trap, if she wasn’t careful.
***
The war was already in its third year. It had gone on far longer than anyone had imagined. The death toll was staggering. Most of the battles were being fought in the South. From what Ceci read in the newspapers, it seemed that the Union was gaining ground, tightening its stranglehold on the Confederacy.
Every day, they seemed to edge closer to the vicinity of the plantation. She knew Simon Robicheaux was a resourceful man, but what he could do against a Federal invasion? She couldn’t guess. What would it profit her, she wondered, to strike a blow in the North, if her home in the South was destroyed? The recent death of one of the Bird spies preyed on her mind. Doucet had warned her, many times. The chances were she would never see Louisiana again.
***
“Charlie was in yesterday, buying candy,” Enola mentioned, as Ceci passed her latest batch of information across the counter. For once, the store was empty and she spoke openly, a hard edge to the tone of her voice. “He doesn’t seem too sure of your affections.”
Ceci was taken aback by the criticism. “I’ve given him no reason to doubt me,” she defended her position. “I play my part. I do enough to keep him interested. After all, we both know why I associate with him.”
“The point is,” Enola told her, “he mustn’t know. He’s a valuable source of information. We can’t afford to lose him.”
“What am I supposed to do about it?” Ceci shrugged.
Enola looked her up and down, like a fox eyeing a chicken. “Give him what he wants,” she replied. “Give him what all men want.”
Ceci found the suggestion both repugnant and offensive. She had already given herself to Trent. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him. The thought of another man, touching her in that way, disgusted her. “That’s not what I came here to do,” she snapped.
Enola reached across the counter and caught her by the wrist. “You were trained to penetrate deep behind enemy lines – for any purpose,” she reminded her.
Ceci yanked her hand away. “If it’s that important, you offer it to him,” she retorted angrily.
Enola exhaled softly. “Honey,” she replied, offering her a thin smile, illustrating the stark difference in their degree of commitment. “If I thought he’d take it, I would.”
***
“Don’t you think he’s handsome, Mariah?” Constance Douglas lingered in the hall, hands behind her back, leaning against the wall, sighing after the man who’d just left.
“Who?” Ceci teased, as she closed the door.
“You know who,” Constance clicked her tongue in annoyance. She was young and fresh faced, with long blonde hair and blue eyes, and still innocent enough to wear her heart on her sleeve.
“Oh,” Ceci mused. “You mean Lieutenant Wade Anders,” she recalled the latest member to join Josiah’s guest list, watching the girl shiver at the mention of his name. “He’s all right, I suppose.”
Constance jerked upright. “All right,” she cried, eyes wide in disbelief. “Just all right? He’s only the most handsome man in the world.”
Ceci couldn’t resist a smile. These sentiments sounded awfully familiar. She’d heard it all somewhere before. “Don’t go throwing your heart after a soldier,” she advised her. “Take a lesson from your sister.”
The girl’s chin tilted up. “That’s never going to happen to me. The love I have for Wade, is a pure love.”
Ceci smiled again. Yes, she had heard all this before. She’d said much the same herself. She wasn’t that much older than Constance, and hardly any wiser, concerning affairs of the heart. She’d have loved to loiter there, trading sighs with her, but here, she was only a housemaid, and, on top of that, a Confederate spy. It was at times like this she wished she wasn’t.
***
It was almost April, and still Ceci couldn’t shake the northern chill from her bones. She’d taken to wearing a thick cloak that Enola Sykes had given to her, whenever she went out.
She’d grown accustomed to seeing Union soldiers on the street and paid them little attention, other than to avoid them. Especially on a day like today, when she had a long, coded message in her purse.
A detachment of cavalry came to a halt adjacent to the street she was on. It was just a little too close for comfort. Pulling the hood of the cloak up to shield her face, she began to hurry past, sparing them the merest glance. It was then that she saw it, faded and frayed, tied to the bridle of the lead horse. A white ribbon.
Chapter Twenty Three
Ceci came to an abrupt halt. She felt herself sway, on the point of fainting. She caught her breath, clasping a hand to her breast, her heart pounding uncontrollably. She forced herself to turn away, facing a store window. The grimy glass acted like a mirror, reflecting everything behind her.
She could hardly believe her eyes. After all this time, it was him. It was Trent. She pressed her hand against the glass, as if to touch him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, God,” she sobbed, “Trent.” Ceci, the love sick young woman, rose up, returning with a vengeance, reminding her of all the times she’d spent with him. She ached to hold him, to feel his touch, to taste his lips. She burned with the agony of despair. He was only a few feet away. What could she do?
Ceci hovered, transfixed by a moment of indecision. It was what she had become that held her. She felt herself cursed to stare, helplessly, into this glass and witness the reflections of her past, knowing that if she turned, to embrace them… If she turned, and was discovered here. It could cost her her life.
All at once a strange calm settled on her. All she had to do was turn and go up to him. One look at her and he would pull her into his saddle, smother her in kisses, and ride off with her.
The dark creature within her screamed a warning, as she felt an invisible force grip her legs, edging her away from the window. In a moment, she could be free of Doucet, and the war. She could remain with Trent for the rest of her life. She continued to turn. Images of her dead father and dead sister flashed through her mind, hovering around Trent’s reflection. The screams of the dark creature echoed in her ears. She glanced into the glass again. Trent turned. She could see his face clearly, her eyes drinking him in.
In that instant, all her anger and her hatred drained away. The dark creature fell silent, subdued, laid low. She forgot everything, moving as if in a dream. She could feel herself turning, reaching for the hood of her cloak, ready to pull it back. She could feel his name, swelling in her throat. She opened her mouth to call it out.
“Are you all right, Miss?” A hand caught her arm.
Ceci flinched back. “W
hat?” she blinked.
It was the proprietor of the store. “I saw you from inside,” he remarked, with concern. “Are you all right?” he repeated.
She put her hand on her brow, dazed and confused. Then, the thud of hooves made her glance up. Trent was galloping away. “Oh, no,” she cried, stretching out her hand in a vain effort to stop him. But it was too late.
“You don’t look well,” the proprietor insisted. “Come inside. I’ll call a doctor.”
Gradually, she came to her senses. A crowd had begun to gather, attracted by the commotion.
“No. I’m all right,” she shrugged the man’s hand away, suddenly aware of the danger she was in. “I felt a little faint, that’s all.” She pulled the cloak tightly around her. “Thank you,” she nodded briefly, before hurrying away from the curious stares of the bystanders.
She still had the coded information in her purse, but she couldn’t stand the thought of Enola Sykes interrogating her over the way she looked. She’d deliver it tomorrow, or not at all. It wasn’t important now. She felt confused and disorientated. She had to get back to the house. She was in no fit state to be out on the street. A mistake now could be fatal.
As Ceci opened the door, Florina was coming down the hall. “Good Lord, Mariah,” she stared. “What happened? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I nearly fainted in the street,” she answered truthfully. “I think I must be coming down with something.”
“You certainly don’t look well,” Florina observed. “You’d best go and lay down. I’ll tell Mrs Douglas that you’re indisposed.”
Ceci went to her room and tore off the cloak, letting it fall to the floor. Then she threw herself on the bed, buried her face in the pillow, and just cried and cried. Seeing Trent again, and losing him in the same instant, was a cruel blow. She felt so alone and miserable. All she wanted to do was die. She thought about the pistol in her bedside cabinet. All she had to do was take it out, put it to her head, and pull the trigger. That’d be the end of it.
Before she had time to consider it any further, she heard a gentle tapping at her door. She jerked upright, hastily brushing the tears from her face. “Who is it?” she challenged.
The door opened slowly, Amelia put her head round, touching a finger to her lips. Then she let herself in and came over to sit on the bed next to Ceci. “I heard you come in,” she explained her reason for being there. “Something didn’t sound right. So, I crept downstairs to see how you were. Mrs Winthrop says you’re indisposed, but I know it’s not that.”
The muscles in Ceci’s jaw tightened. She wondered if Amelia suspected anything. “I’m all right,” she tried to dissuade her from any further inquiry.
“No, you’re not,” Amelia contradicted softly, “you’ve been crying. The only time a woman cries like that, is over a man. Trust me, I know.”
Ceci relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief, which Amelia accepted as confirmation.
“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” she surmised.
Ceci was immediately back on the defensive. “Who?”
“James,” Amelia continued, in hushed tones. “You saw him today, but he didn’t see you.”
Ceci was astounded. “How’d you know that?”
“It happened to me once,” Amelia recalled. “I heard Frank’s regiment was passing through the outskirts of Washington. So, I slipped out of the house and went clear across town.”
“Did you see him?” Ceci asked with interest.
“Yes,” she sighed, “but he didn’t see me. It broke my heart to watch him ride away. That’s what happened to you, isn’t it?”
Ceci nodded. “He was so close,” she confided. “I haven’t seen him for so long, and then he was gone.”
Amelia took Ceci’s hand in hers. “Why don’t you find out where he is, and go to him?” she suggested.
“I can’t do that,” Ceci was adamant. It was out of the question. “I don’t even know if he’s staying in Washington, or just passing through.”
“I understand,” Amelia sighed again. “The army doesn’t permit followers. It distracts the men. It doesn’t matter to them how we feel.” She glanced up at the door. “I’d better get back,” she excused herself. “If my father catches me down here, he’ll kill me.”
“Thank you for coming,” Ceci smiled. “It was very thoughtful.”
“When you’re feeling better, come up to my room,” she invited. “We can console each other.”
***
For the first time, since she’d left Louisiana, Ceci felt she needed a friend. She didn’t care to sit in her room with nothing but a loaded pistol for company. As the evening drew in, she climbed the stairs to Amelia’s room, knocked and went in. She was sitting on a couch, reading.
“I’m so glad you came,” she smiled, glancing up from her book, as Ceci entered. “Sit here, beside me.”
They chatted for over an hour. Ceci was careful to keep the war out of conversation. They spoke of love, the men they were missing and of broken hearts. By the end of the evening, they’d both become quite tearful.
Amelia put her arm around Ceci. “Good Lord,” she laughed. “What fools we women are.” Suddenly, she flinched, pressing a hand to her stomach. “Oh, my,” she gasped.
Ceci jumped to her feet. “What’s the matter?”
Amelia shot her a pained expression. “I think my water just broke.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes,” she winced, “quite sure.”
“Come and lay down.” Ceci assisted her to the bed. “I’ll fetch help.”
She ran downstairs and roused the household. A maid was sent to fetch the doctor, and by the end of the night, Ceci was watching Amelia give birth to a son. The sight of that new life, coming into the world, assuaged all the sorrows of the day. She felt reborn herself.
When it was all over, Josiah Douglas was admitted to view his new grandson. “Let’s hope Frank comes back to claim him,” he remarked, somewhat coldly.
Lydia Douglas slapped his arm, with the back of her hand. “Your daughter has been through quite an ordeal,” she berated him. “This is your first grandchild. Show a little compassion, sir.”
He softened visibly. “He’s a fine looking boy,” he admitted, with just a hint of pride in his voice. He bent over the bed and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “I’m sure he’ll make us proud. You get some rest now.”
“Mariah has consented to watch over them today,” Lydia told him. “So, don’t expect to see her tomorrow evening.”
He acknowledged the arrangement without argument, allowing his wife to lead him away.
“Would you like to hold him?” Amelia asked, once they were alone.
Ceci came over to the bed and picked up the baby, cradling it in her arms. As she stood there, holding the tiny, helpless creature, she vowed to herself, that she would survive this war, be married and have children of her own. That day, the dark creature within her was diminished. She knew it would never be as strong again.
***
Ceci was immediately suspicious. Charlie was waiting in their usual spot, but the familiar grin was missing. He hung his head, appearing ill at ease and sullen. She looked up and down the street, paying particular attention to alleys and doorways. Searching for anomalous groups of soldiers, or Federal agents, who might be waiting to ambush her. If her identity had been discovered, they’d take great pains to capture her alive.
Seeing nothing amiss, she continued, keeping a watchful eye on her surroundings.
“What’s wrong, Charlie?” she asked, as she came up to him.
He looked at her, ashen faced. “My brother, Ned,” he let out a gasping sob. “I heard, today. He was killed at Lake Providence.”
“I’m so sorry,” she put her hand on his arm.
Charlie was inconsolable. “When our folks died he raised me, like I was his son,” he sniffed. “He was all I had in the world, besides you,” he added.
Again, Ceci found herself seeing things from a different perspective. Learning that heartbreak, sorrow and pain were not exclusively her province. As the war went on, the ranks of those who mourned, and swore vengeance, swelled daily.
“He was shot down by some God damn rebel scum,” Charlie ground his teeth, tears trickling down his sallow cheeks. “I’m going to kill them all.”
Ceci was all too familiar with these sentiments. She knew she shouldn’t care. It might have been Ned, at New Orleans, who fired the shot that killed her family. Who and why no longer held the same significance for her now. Suddenly, all life seemed precious. It didn’t matter if wore blue, or grey.
Charlie took a deep breath, dragging a hand across his face. “I doubt any woman wants to be seen with a man who cries,” he began to turn away.
She pulled him back, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him. She didn’t know why. She just felt she had to.
“I got my first kiss,” he stared in surprise, his face brightening a little.
“I’m proud to be your sweetheart.” She told him what she thought he wanted to hear.
He was clearly pleased and just a little bemused by her sudden display of affection, after all her months of reticence. “Just my luck,” he grimaced. “I came here today to tell you I won’t be able to see you again for a while.”
“Why not?” she frowned.
He shrugged. “Something big’s going on. The whole army’s preparing to move out. I’m moving out with them.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She did her best to sound disappointed. “Do you know where you’re going?”
He shook his head. “There are no details. I only know it’s soon. Will you wait for me?” he asked uncertainly.
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