Emily nodded and took Mr. Woodward’s offered hand. “Thank you, Mr. Woodward. I’ll do just as you say.”
“Stay safe, Miss Preston.”
***
Missouri’s goodbye reenacted itself in Emily’s mind all the way to the livery stable. “Are you really leaving?” she had asked as Emily stowed her trunks in Mrs. Calkins’ attic, where the woman had agreed to store them until her return.
Emily nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“I thought for sure you’d change your mind after gushing on about that studio. Shoot, I’m thinking of taking a class or two and applying for the position myself.”
Emily almost smiled but couldn’t quite manage it. Following such a difficult year, she didn’t think leaving would be this hard. It probably wouldn’t be if she knew with any certainty when she could return.
“At least Lucy will be leaving soon, too. She’s like a bad toothache, you know? An all-consuming pain until you finally give her a hard yank.” Missouri guffawed. “I’ve seen few things in my life as funny as the sight of you cramming her up against that wall. That is a memory I will bring with me to the grave. I swear it.”
“One of my finer moments.” Emily chuckled, blinking misty eyes. She had been struggling to shut down the waterworks all morning.
“You’re sure you don’t want to visit that studio one more time?”
“I can’t stay, Missouri.”
“Sure, I know it.” Missouri swiped her eyes with the whole length of her hand. “I’m just going to miss you, you know?”
Emily embraced her friend tightly, her own eyes filling with tears. “Write to me, okay?”
“I plan to.” Missouri squeezed her in return. “And whenever you make it back, look for Mulroney’s Boardinghouse.”
“You can count on it.”
Missouri had left for work, and Emily had said goodbye to Anna and Mrs. Calkins. Then she met Jeremiah at the stable. He didn’t say a word as she used her precious tuition money to secure a mount. They had already said everything that needed saying.
They carried only food, water, extra clothing, and blankets, which they fastened behind the saddles. It was a hundred miles to the Rappahannock. With any luck, they’d be there in four or five days. Emily still held out hope that she might make it home in time for Abigail’s wedding. She had sent out letters a week ago, letting everyone know she was coming.
“Are you ready?” Jeremiah asked.
She nodded firmly and swung herself into the sidesaddle.
The journey to Washington was uneventful. The weather remained fair and dry, and the miles passed easily on the firm, well-traveled road. Emily slept hard and relished the open countryside, despite the discomfort of long hours in the saddle. Once they crossed the Potomac, however, the journey became far less pleasant. The weather turned sour, and darkness fell early. They skirted the road closures and camped along the banks of the Potomac where a steady downpour helped veil them from Yankee patrols, but they passed a miserable night.
Picking their way south the next morning in a mixture of rain, chill winds, and uneasiness, they remained unaccosted even as they neared Falmouth. The land here was desolate, deserted by citizen and army alike. Their passage proved almost too easy, and Emily fought down her apprehension as she contemplated why. The next day, their third on the road, the explanation became clear. Just before noon, the thunder of artillery boomed somewhere in the west. The army had moved on. And they had found the enemy.
The same numbness that had claimed Emily as she listened to Antietam gripped her now, and Jovie’s face fastened itself like a photograph just behind her eyelids. Was he safe? Was he this minute aiming at a man he didn’t want to call an enemy? Or was he hit, writhing on the battlefield and calling weakly for help? Would she have to bury Jovie as she had buried Jack? She felt sick and dizzy at the thought. The months of silence had been wretched enough. She couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.
There was no reprieve from the relentless commotion. It rolled on and on, rising and falling like waves in the ocean, deadly and persistent. She wanted to ride west, straight into the battle, and draw Jovie away. She could not lose him, too. She could not! Only Jeremiah’s presence kept her headed south and focused on the purpose for her journey, but the din of battle followed them across the Rappahannock and all the way to Taylorsville, two days beyond.
In Taylorsville, Emily was able to purchase a train ticket. The only run to Richmond that week would leave the next morning. She bid Jeremiah a grateful farewell outside the town’s only hotel.
“He’ll be all right, Emily,” he said, untying the single bag from her saddle and handing it to her.
“You cannot possibly promise me that.”
He rested his arms on the top of the saddle. “No. No, I can’t. But I do understand something of what you’re feeling.”
“I forget. You know Jovie, too.”
“Mister Jovie isn’t the one I’m thinking of.”
“Who then?” Had he made other friends in the army?
Jeremiah looked across the horse’s back toward the horizon. “You know Mister Jovie’s serving maid, Sarah?”
“Yes.”
“She and I—we had planned to marry once.”
Emily stared at him. “I never knew that. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What good would it have done?” He fidgeted with a stirrup and tightened a strap. “I haven’t seen her in three years, not since your father moved me off Ella Wood to the Charleston house.”
“Did he know?”
He nodded, his jaw hard.
Emily’s anger toward her father rekindled. “Does Jovie?”
“I don’t know. But what can he do during the war?” He stroked the horse’s neck. “We used to send messages through Lizzie and Phoebe and other slaves who traveled back and forth. But I’ve heard nothing since I left. I don’t even know if Sarah still feels the same or if she’s married someone else.”
“I’ll find out for you, Jeremiah,” she promised. “I’ll do everything I can.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Go,” she urged him. “While the army is still preoccupied. Write to me as soon as you are safely back in Baltimore.”
“I will.” He held out his hand, but after the long journey, after so many weeks together in Baltimore, she circled her arms around his waist. “Thank you for seeing me home.”
His return embrace felt entirely natural—protective and affectionate, just as a brother’s should.
“Take care of yourself, Emily.”
He mounted his horse. Artillery still rumbled far in the distance as she watched him disappear around the corner of the depot, leading her horse by the reins.
***
A week later, the train pulled into Charleston and obscured a brilliant sunset with a final burst of steam. To her surprise, she spotted the spare, grizzled form of Zeke waiting to meet her on the station platform. A wave of homesickness washed over her. She ran to meet him, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly toppling him. “Zeke! Oh, how good it is to see someone from home! What are you doing here?”
He chuckled and took the valise from her hand. “We got yo’ letter yesterday. We knowed you was comin’, just not exactly when. I been parked here all day waitin’ an’ was jus’ about ready to head home.”
“But what would my father say if he found out you came to meet me?”
“I don’ reckon anyone gunna tell him.”
Emily recognized her father’s open carriage and let Zeke hand her inside.
“Do you have a trunk, Miss Emily?”
“No. I plan to make use of my remaining wardrobe here in my father’s house. My months of mourning are nearly over.” She fingered the skirt of her black traveling dress. She had changed out of her riding habit in Taylorsville. Now the dress hung limp and grimy after a full week’s wear. “I believe I’ll donate this to the rag bin.”
He climbed up in the driver�
��s seat and took the reins. “You may choose not to after you see how hard it be to buy anything in dis town.”
“Has it gotten so bad? I thought the blockade runners were quite successful.”
“Mos’ o’ what dey bring in goes straight to de army. De res’ o’ us jus’ make due.”
His meaning became clear as they passed through the city, even before they reached the burned-out district. Ornamental gardens usually abounded in the spring. Now, if they hadn’t gone to seed altogether, they served a more practical purpose, harboring kale and turnips and potatoes. Shutters wanted a coat of paint, gates hung crooked on their hinges, and children played in twice-patched breeches. Even matrons navigated the streets in stained gloves and frayed hems. After the vibrancy of Baltimore, her hometown looked dingy and unkempt. “What’s happened?”
“Ain’t no one left to do any work. De men all be servin’. Women are keepin’ de shops open, but dere ain’t nothin’ in ’em.”
Emily had been so ready to drink in the sights and sounds of home, but like everything the war had touched, they turned bitter even as she reached for them.
“Do you want me to take you home or to Mrs. Thornton’s?”
“Home. I want to see Abigail. But I’d appreciate it if you would send someone to let Aunt Margaret know I’m back and that I’ll come tomorrow to see her.”
Her subdued spirits revived quickly. Abigail pushed past the footmen and screamed at the sight of her. Not waiting for Emily to alight, she flung herself over the carriage wheel and into her arms. “You’re back! You look beautiful! And so much healthier! And I’m getting married in three days!”
Months of loneliness dropped to the pavement as Emily squeezed Abigail tightly. How she had missed her!
“How was your trip?” Abigail dropped to the ground and danced on her toes in her excitement.
“Terrible. But worth it.”
“Come on!” She dragged her out of the vehicle and toward the house. “I have to show you my dress.”
With a snicker and a hasty hello, Emily raced past Tandey and the startled Malones then dashed up the stairs to her bedroom. The bridal gown hung outside the wardrobe, starched and pressed. The sight of it stopped Emily short. She was also to have been married.
“Don’t you love it?” Abigail sighed, fondling the gauzy fabric. “It was my mother’s. She and Tandey helped me update the style.”
“It’s gorgeous!” Emily exclaimed. “Did you stitch the embroidery? It must have taken you ages!”
The dress was pale pink and elegant in its simplicity, with a laced bodice, straight waist, and ruffled sleeves slung low on the shoulder. The overskirt was gathered with dark mauve ribbons and the hem embellished with an intricate pattern of roses.
“It gave me something to do this winter. I’ve picked out one for you to wear as well. You will be standing up with me,” Abigail insisted, moving the dress aside and taking a creamy yellow gown from the wardrobe. “I know you’ve always liked this one. I hope you don’t mind that we altered it slightly.”
Emily’s mouth fell open. The collar had been replaced with exquisite white lace and the sleeves newly trimmed in white ribbons. The skirt had been reworked and now fell in gentle folds over the gauzy white underskirt. “When did you do this? Zeke said my letter barely preceded me.”
Abigail laughed. “Mother and Tandey sewed it by turns. Do you like it?”
“It’s the most beautiful thing I own. I’ll treasure it.”
“I’m so glad. The color looks stunning on you. And I’ve saved two petticoats from the aid society ladies. We’ll be as fashionable as we once were.”
“Aid society ladies?”
“They collect continually. Petticoats for sandbags. Lead for bullets. Linens for bandages. They even pulled the carpets up from the public buildings for use in the hospital when we ran out of bedcovers.”
Emily rehung the gown with an unsteady hand. She had no idea how much Charleston had been suffering. “Who else is in the wedding party?”
“Just us, Darius, and his younger brother. We wanted a simple ceremony, times being what they are. His older brother died at Fredericksburg, you know.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I never met him, actually. We only invited family. Darius’s parents are hosting a reception for us on their estate next weekend.”
“Will you move to the plantation?”
“For now. Darius has renovated the cottage that his grandparents retired in. It’s quaint and cozy and private, in a stand of woods about a quarter mile from the big house. You really must come see it when you are able.”
“The first chance I get,” Emily promised.
Abigail was beaming, the shining, soul-thrilled expression of a soon-to-be bride.
“You love him, don’t you?” It seemed a silly thing to ask days before a wedding, but Emily wanted to hear her dearest friend say it.
Abigail’s expression grew dreamy. “When I’m with Darius, it’s like I’m another person. I see more. I feel more. I’m better. Do you know what I mean?”
“You don’t have any doubts? You’re absolutely certain?”
“Emily,” Abigail said, her tone mellowing with compassion. “I never meant for this to be a difficult time for you. I thought we’d be sharing this experience.”
“Don’t pity me, Abigail. I’m grateful that I found out Thad’s true colors before I married him. Truly. I just want make sure you’re one hundred percent sure.”
Abigail grew earnest. “I am content all the way down to my toes. I could spend the rest of my life making Darius happy.”
The words sliced into Emily unexpectedly, filling her with a gentle yearning. Would she ever find that kind of love? She shook off her melancholy, and when she took her friend’s hands, her smile was genuine. “I am so happy for you.”
Abigail’s fingers tightened. “Let’s go out. Just you and me. Let’s split a confection down at Emory’s. Betsy told me they managed to purchase some sugar off the last blockade captain. It’s been ages since I’ve tasted anything sweet!”
“Right now? Unchaperoned?” Emily teased.
“Yes!” Excitement heightened Abigail’s color. “For heaven’s sake, I’ll be a married woman in a few days. Dress up,” she demanded. “I’ll find you some soap and water. We’re going to celebrate.”
Emily grinned and shrugged off her weariness. The extravagance would certainly gouge into her savings, but it was for a good cause. She’d made it home safely, and her best friend was getting married. Tonight she would lay the troubles of her past year to rest.
Washing hastily, she pirated one of her mother’s black ball gowns and a strand of pearls. The dress fit a little large, but that just meant she could loosen her corset. She even asked one of the maids to do up her hair. An hour later, she and Abigail assembled in the entryway, fresh, glamorous, and giggling. After donning shawls against the spring chill, they stepped out under a perfectly clear, star-spangled sky.
Grinning, Abigail jauntily offered Emily her arm. “Shall we?”
Emily took it. “Here’s to your last days of maidenhood and my last evening of mourning.”
***
Emily smoothed the folds of her lemon cream dress. Yellow made such a vast improvement over black and perfectly reflected the day’s mood—an oasis of faith, hope, and love in the midst of calamity. Abigail looked radiant in her made-over gown, her happiness spilling onto everyone present. Darius, shyly reserved throughout the entire evening, could hardly look away from her. Mrs. Johnson, still clad in black over the loss of her first son, cried tears of joy for her second. The entire affair was a testament to human perseverance.
Emily watched it all from just behind Abigail’s left shoulder.
The ceremony was simple, with only a dozen people in attendance and a single vase of hyacinths decorating the altar. Emily’s attention wandered briefly, drifting through the familiar building to the Sunday school classroom in which she and Abigail had
sat every Sabbath during the summers. They’d never been close until they turned debutante together. Now Emily could think of her as nothing less than a sister.
After the minister pronounced them man and wife, Darius and Abigail departed in a flower-strewn carriage for an extended ride around town as a married couple while the guests made their way to Emily’s parents’ house on foot. Aunt Margaret, who could not manage the distance, passed in her own carriage wearing a magnificent bonnet heavily plumed with ostrich feathers. Emily found herself walking on the arm of Samuel Johnson, Darius’s younger brother and a lieutenant in the Confederate cavalry.
“Mr. Johnson, Abigail tells me you serve with J.E.B. Stuart,” Emily said in a polite attempt at conversation. “Is he as dashing as the newspapers make him out to be?”
“I might not be the proper authority, Miss Preston,” he said with a smile, “though the ladies seem to think so. He is a mighty fine general.”
“And how much time did he give you on furlough?”
“A full two weeks.” He cast an appreciative glance her way. “You wouldn’t mind if I spend some of those evenings in your parlor, would you, Miss Preston? Darius always fancied you, but I don’t think he’d object anymore.”
Emily laughed. Obviously, Samuel hadn’t inherited Darius’s shyness. “You certainly may, if you’ve a mind to. But I’ll warn you, I don’t intend to spend much time there.”
He accepted her rebuff with a good-natured grin. “At least one of us Johnson boys managed to land a pretty gal before joining up.”
“Darius is enlisting?” she asked in alarm. “Does Abigail know?” Her friend hadn’t mentioned a thing.
“I couldn’t tell you. But if she doesn’t, she’ll find out soon enough. Word is, Lincoln’s looking to whip Charleston into submission. The city authorities are calling for all hands.”
Blood Moon (Ella Wood, 2) Page 28