by Mary Ellis
Because Libby housed officers and not enlisted soldiers, Father Michael was permitted inside a common area where he said Mass and provided communion to Roman Catholics once a week. Madeline was also admitted after signing a roster at the front desk. Relatively unfamiliar with the liturgy, she stood clutching her basket against the wall with other non-Catholics.
When Father Michael paused to hear the private confessions of several prisoners, Madeline approached a spectator standing near the barred windows. “Would you care for something to eat, sir? It’s not much. Just a few leftovers from home.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Whatever you got has to be better than what’s served in here.” The man reached into the hamper, grabbed a cold yam, and ate it ravenously. “I taste brown sugar or maybe honey on this?”
Before she could answer, the metal door they had entered through banged open. In marched an officious-looking man flanked by two armed guards and the soldier who manned the front desk.
“That’s her, Colonel.” The soldier who had previously paid her little attention pointed a crooked finger.
“Seize that basket and that prisoner!” The colonel gestured toward the yam-eater.
When the Confederate guards reached where Madeline stood, the officer glared down at her. “You will come with us, Mrs. Howard.”
“Of course, sir,” she replied graciously, not in keeping with her inner turmoil or the woeful surroundings.
On her way from the common room, Madeline cast a sidelong glance at Father Michael. From his expression, the priest was surprised and concerned. With each step down the long hallway, Madeline’s courage flagged. When they reached a heavy iron door, a guard pulled the basket from her hands, along with her reticule, and herded her into a windowless room with a table, several chairs, and a cot.
A cot? Surely they aren’t going to arrest me and keep me in this loathsome place.
Her fear must have been palpable, because the colonel’s features softened slightly. “You are not under arrest, Mrs. Howard. Not at this time, anyway. Sit.” He pointed at a chair. “A matron will go through your basket and bag for any messages or contraband goods. The Yankee officer you were talking to instead of worshipping will also be searched, along with those sweet potatoes.”
“I carried no messages inside Libby, only food.” Madeline forced herself to speak clearly. “And I didn’t participate in the service because I’m not Catholic.” She swallowed down the sour taste of bile.
“Then the question begging to be asked is why would you come today?” The colonel’s steel gray eyes practically bored holes through her forehead.
“I felt sorry for your prisoners and brought them some food.”
His face registered surprise. “Then you don’t deny being a Union sympathizer?”
Madeline was unsure how to respond, but she could think of nothing other than the truth. “I don’t deny it, but I also aided Rebel soldiers when I lived in Pennsylvania after the battle of Gettysburg.”
The colonel’s expression changed to contempt. “Your one-woman humanitarian league isn’t welcome in Libby. You are neither a nurse nor a person of the cloth. Wait here. A matron will come to search your person. If we find nothing suspect, you will be free to leave.” Tugging on his gloves, he said sternly, “But I strongly advise you never to return. Union sympathizers have no place in Libby or anywhere else in Richmond, for that matter.”
The metal door clanged shut behind him. Madeline was left alone to shiver and fret until a distasteful woman showed up some time later. Never before in her life had she been forced to strip down to bloomers, chemise, and bare feet in front of a stranger in a cold room. She could remember nothing said during the carriage ride back to St. Patrick’s. Gratefully, Father Michael insisted on seeing her home. She would remember little of her explanation to Aunt Clarisa or Eugenia when she entered the house, pale and wan. All she recalled after her ordeal was scrubbing in a tub until the water turned cold and still not feeling clean.
Later, she ate a meager supper in the kitchen and then crawled under the quilt in her room. Yet no matter how she tossed and turned, Madeline couldn’t sleep.
The man she’d spoken to in Chimborazo kept running through her mind. The soldier had said James had been shot while scouting around the town of Remington.
Remington. Repeating the name over and over didn’t lull her into slumber. Instead, she was galvanized to action in the dead of night. Lowering the wick of her oil lamp, Madeline crept downstairs and through the house, certain she would be discovered at any moment. In her uncle’s library hung a framed map of Virginia. Madeline had remarked several times about it, marveling at the details included by the mapmaker.
Once she reached the cluttered room and closed the door, she exhaled with relief. Turning up the wick of her lamp, she studied the towns west of Richmond in a methodical radius. Finally her fingers landed on the black dot of Remington and then the name Culpeper drew her like a beacon. Uncle John had complained several times that his brother’s home now lay under Yankee control.
Could I possibly leave Richmond and reach Culpeper? What excuse would I have to make such a trip?
With her blood throbbing at her temples, Madeline blew out the lamp and then walked soundlessly back to her room. She had the flame of love illuminating her path. Because no matter what the risk, she knew she must try. Withdrawing a sheet of paper and a bottle of ink from her drawer, she penned a long-overdue answer to his letter—the one she still hadn’t found.
Dear James,
I pray this finds you well, if it finds you at all. I received your letter last month and have been remiss in replying. Uncertainty had stayed my hand—uncertainty and cowardice. But I will be a coward no longer.
My heartfelt desire is to see you. I believe I could safely reach the town of Culpeper. I will meet you for an overdue reunion the first Saturday in February. I’m unsure of the details, only certain of my intentions. I cannot remain in Richmond while you may be languishing from your wound, unknowledgeable of my affection for you. Do not chance a return response. Simply come to Culpeper on the appointed day.
I shall be the one wearing her heart on her sleeve.
With fond regards,
Madeline
Adding a final flourish to her signature, Madeline sealed the single sheet inside an envelope and tucked it in her apron pocket. Tomorrow was market day. She would find an excuse to visit the docks with Micah even if Aunt Clarisa had no money for fresh seafood. Tonight she would pray for the Bonnie Bess to be moored at its usual dock, that Captain George would deliver her message to General Downing wherever he might be, and finally that neither his wound nor anything else would keep him from their rendezvous in two weeks.
FIFTEEN
FEBRUARY 6, 1864
Are you saying you refuse to take me, Uncle John?” Madeline tried her best to control her temper.
“No, I’m not refusing, but I believe I have a right to know why you wish to go to the station.”
“With all due respect, Uncle, I wish to catch a train.” She stared stubbornly at him from a spot just in front of the dining room windows. He was standing on the other side of the room, his movement to the table interrupted by a sudden request of a ride to the depot from her.
“Madeline, have you no concept—”
“John, perhaps you and our favorite niece could continue the argument like civilized people, seated at the breakfast table.” Aunt Clarisa bustled into the dining room with a flurry of lace and a wry smile. “Isn’t it a tad early for either of you to be up on a Saturday?” She sat down and waited for Kathleen to bring her first cup of coffee.
“I’m sorry, Aunt. I hope we didn’t disturb you, but I have no time for breakfast this morning.”
“Sit and eat something,” Aunt Clarisa ordered. “Then Micah will drive you to the station.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Madeline walked over to the table, sat, and reached for a piece of toast.
“Where is it you wish to go?”
“Now, Clarisa, don’t encourage Madeline’s foolish notions. It’s not safe for a lady to travel these days, least of all by herself.” Uncle John huffed out his breath like an angry bull as he sat in his place.
“Shouldn’t we at least inquire about her foolish notions? After all, Madeline is a grown woman.” Aunt Clarisa offered her husband a gracious smile.
Madeline washed down the dry toast with a gulp of coffee. She should have left the house unseen and walked to the depot, no matter the distance. However, considering how kind her aunt and uncle had been for the past six months, she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. “I’m on my way to Hanover Junction, where I’ll transfer to the Virginia Central Railroad. I plan to ride that train to Gordonsville.”
Looking perplexed, Aunt Clarisa leaned back in her chair. “What on earth for?”
Uncle John shook his head. “Impossible. We have no way of knowing if the tracks are intact between here and there. One army tears up entire sections, only to be replaced when the battle lines change. You could end up in the middle of nowhere and be forced to turn back.”
Her aunt sipped her coffee and then returned the cup to the saucer. “Do you know someone in Gordonsville, my dear?”
Madeline swallowed another bite of toast. “No, ma’am. I intend to transfer to the Orange and Alexandria railroad and head toward Culpeper. That will be my final destination.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the room for several moments. Her uncle’s face turned very pale. “How did you learn of these rail lines, Madeline?”
“I studied the map on the wall of your library after deciding to make this trip,” she said as she dabbed her mouth with her napkin.
“Ladies don’t usually venture into my library.” His statement hung in the air as Kathleen carried in a platter of pancakes.
“Forgive my intrusion, sir. I meant no disrespect, but this journey is of the upmost importance.” Madeline focused her eyes on an artfully sewn patch in the tablecloth rather than her uncle’s unhappy face.
“Culpeper is firmly entrenched in enemy territory. Are you aware of that fact?”
“That it is held by the Union Army? Yes, sir.” Now she met her uncle’s gaze without blinking.
“Then I strongly advise against traveling there. Any soldier I send to accompany you would be in grave danger.”
“There is no need for someone to accompany me, Uncle. I will travel alone. The only thing I do need is a ride to the station.” Madeline waved off Kathleen’s attempt to slide pancakes onto her plate.
Aunt Clarisa spoke before her husband gathered his wits. “May we know the reason for your trip?”
Madeline considered for a moment. “I heard that a dear friend of mine from Pennsylvania has been wounded. So I wish to go at once.”
Uncle John gripped his fork ever tighter, his lips thinning into a harsh line. “A friend from Pennsylvania in Culpeper?”
“How on earth could one of your lady friends become wounded in Virginia?” Her aunt couldn’t have sounded more confused.
“I didn’t say my friend was female. I intend to visit a gentleman.”
“Oh, dear me.” Aunt Clarisa pressed a hand to her bosom.
“And Colonel Haywood? What shall I tell your Richmond gentleman friend?” Uncle John’s tone dripped with scorn.
“I know you’re disappointed in me, sir, but I have never deluded Colonel Haywood. He has been aware of my affection for someone else from the beginning of our acquaintance.” Madeline refilled her cup and drank it down. She would need all the coffee she could stomach today.
Uncle John blushed to the roots of his silver hair, finally realizing the inappropriateness of their discussion. “You’re a grown woman. I’ll have Micah drive you to the train station. We shall pray for your safe passage into enemy—” he cleared his throat. “Into Union territory.” Then, with great dignity, he rose from his chair and left the room.
“Oh, Madeline, I’m very worried about this. Surely your friend will heal without placing yourself in danger.” Aunt Clarisa suddenly looked older than her years.
“Perhaps so, but I won’t be able to rest until I know for certain.” As Madeline rose from the table, tears filled her eyes. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me, Aunt Clarisa. You’ve been as kind to me as my own mother, and I will be forever indebted.”
“This sounds so dire, so final. Won’t you return to us after seeing your friend? I thought you planned to remain here for the duration of the war.”
A single tear slipped from her eye. “With the difficulty in crossing lines even one way, I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to return. My love for you hasn’t changed. If I can come back, I will. Now please let me go before I lose my nerve.”
Fifteen minutes later, Madeline appeared in the foyer dressed in her traveling cloak and heavy bonnet. Her aunt waited by the front door. “I had Esther pack a lunch for you.”
Madeline lifted the basket’s lid. “There is enough here to feed four people.”
“Perhaps you’ll make friends on the train.” Her aunt attempted a cheerful smile and pressed several folded greenbacks into Madeline’s hand. “Take this without argument. You can repay me with a new filly someday. I won’t have you sleeping in some dirty railway depot. My sister would turn over in her grave.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll come back to us. You’ve been a fine influence on Eugenia.” Aunt Clarisa winked impishly.
“I will see you again.” Madeline kissed her aunt’s cheek and then hurried from the house on Forsythia Lane. She couldn’t look back for fear of changing her mind. Since joining the world of Richmond society, she’d grown indolent and pampered. All the way to the station, she tried to picture James’s handsome face but couldn’t. Have I lost my mind? I have no way of knowing whether he will be waiting in Culpeper even if I’m able to reach it.
“This is a mistake, Mrs. Howard.” Micah’s honest observation as she stepped down from the carriage at the train depot didn’t surprise her. “I’m sorry I helped you with your mischief. You could end up dead.”
“I don’t think I will, whether or not my journey turns out to be a mistake.” Grabbing his large hand, Madeline pumped it like a handle. “Thank you for your kindness, Micah. Please say goodbye to Esther for me. Now go straight home. A train station is no place for a free person of color.”
Once inside the depot, it took only one quick glance to conclude it wasn’t a place for a woman, either. Soldiers and rough-looking men were everywhere, some in a hurry, some lounging as though they had nothing better to do. But at least she didn’t have long to wait. The train going north to Hanover Junction, where she would change lines and head west to Trevilian, left in twenty minutes. She bought her ticket and concentrated on trying to attract no attention from passing guards.
However, once she reached Gordonsville, the conductor explained that the tracks had been torn up in several places. Everyone had to get off, walk two miles to the other side of town, and then board the Orange and Alexandria rail line toward Culpeper Courthouse. Prudently, Madeline changed her explanation as to where she was headed and the reason for her trip. The soldiers perusing passengers and randomly searching valises were decidedly Yankee. When one young private inspected her hamper, Madeline suspected his motivation was hunger. After sharing her lunch with him and two other soldiers, she settled back for the rest of the journey. By the time the train finally chugged into the Culpeper station with a whistle blast, she was too tired to feel much of anything.
But that was about to change. General James Downing was waiting on the wooden platform with his hat in hand. He looked taller than she remembered and very handsome in his starched uniform and neatly trimmed beard.
“Mrs. Howard.” He stepped forward and offered his gloved hand. “I’ve been meeting trains for hours, unsure how long the trip would take.”
Madeline accepted his assistance, mildly embarrassed. Her gloves were buried beneath her sp
are clothes. “I had no knowledge of schedules when I penned my letter. The rail line is broken in several places, but the conductor herded us to the next set of tracks.” She tucked a stray lock of hair beneath her bonnet, feeling covered in dust and perspiration, even though the winter day was quite cold.
“I intended no complaint by my comment, only that I was eager for your arrival. I would have waited until dark and then through the night if necessary. It was by God’s grace your message reached me across enemy lines. When business took me to Culpeper, I inquired at the post office and found your letter waiting.” He took several deep breaths as other travelers jostled them from both sides.
Once they reached a quiet spot beyond the station, she turned to face him, oblivious of the other travelers passing on both sides. “I traveled from the capital of the Confederacy to meet you, General Downing, based on our brief acquaintance in Cashtown and one letter hence, a letter which mysteriously disappeared shortly after it arrived. Don’t you think you could call me Madeline and, perhaps, I may call you James? At least when no one else is within earshot?”
He locked gazes with her. “Little would give me more pleasure than that… Madeline.” Her name seemed to roll off his tongue like warm honey.
“Thank you, James.” She smiled as she handed him her valise. “Do you know of someplace we might find a meal? I’m famished.”
He grinned. “I’ve made arrangements at Culpeper’s finest establishment for your accommodations. The innkeeper’s wife promised to draw you a bath upon arrival and will serve dinner by the fire. We shall be her only guests.”
“We?” she asked, with a flutter of nerves.
“I booked rooms for privacy—one for you, one for me, and a third for your chaperone, if you chose to travel with one.”
“My uncle tried to send someone along, but I wouldn’t permit a… chaperone.” Madeline blushed, knowing Uncle John had intended Elliott Haywood to ensure her safety. How would she have been able to explain his role in her life?