Neely, Mark E. Southern Rights: Political Prisoners and the Myth of Confederate Constitutionalism. Charlottesville, Virginia: University of Virginia Press, 1999.
Pinkerton, Allan. The Spy of the Rebellion. New York, New York: G. W. Carleton & Co., 1883.
Putnam, Sallie B. Richmond During the War. New York, New York: G. W. Carleton & Co. Publishers, 1867.
Ryan, David D., ed. A Yankee Spy in Richmond. Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania: Stackpole Books, 1996.
Thomas, Emory M. The Confederate State of Richmond: A Biography of the Capital. Baton Rouge, Louisiana: Louisiana State University Press, 1971.
Trammell, Jack. The Richmond Slave Trade: The Economic Backbone of the Old Dominion. Charleston, South Carolina: The History Press, 2012.
Varon, Elizabeth R. Southern Lady, Yankee Spy: The True Story of Elizabeth Van Lew. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 2003.
Wheelan, Joseph. Libby Prison Breakout. New York, New York: PublicAffairs, 2010.
Wixson, Neal E. From Civility to Survival: Richmond Ladies During the Civil War. Bloomington, Indiana: iUniverse, 2012.
To access a printable pdf of this discussion guide, go to www.moodypublishers.com/978-0-8024-0579-1. Click the “Resources” tab to download discussion guide.
1. In the prologue, Sophie’s father considers her differing opinion on slavery as a personal betrayal. When have you seen a difference of opinion cause a family rift? Was there a way to avoid it?
2. For years, Sophie set aside her own goals to keep the peace with her father and care for her mother. What is an appropriate balance of taking care of family and pursuing one’s goals today?
3. Mr. Kent asks, “What’s more important than family?” How would you answer that question?
4. For months, Sophie kept the manner of her mother’s death secret from her father in order to protect him. Is this type of deception justified? Why or why not?
5. Dr. Caleb Lansing tells Sophie, “We must work as hard as we can at what we’ve been called to do, and leave the outcome up to God.” When have you found this to be true in your own life?
6. Before his capture, Abraham Jamison fought for the Union army without pay, rather than accept half pay as a black soldier. He fought to prove black people were equal to whites and deserved citizenship, at great hardship to both himself and his hungry wife. Can you think of a cause for which you would sacrifice great personal comfort?
7. After Sophie met with Dr. Lansing in the morgue, she felt so drastically altered by her actions she wondered if others could tell that she had changed. When have your actions changed you?
8. Harrison Caldwell’s plans for a quick sojourn in Richmond are drastically altered upon his arrest. Share a time when your plans were dramatically changed. How did you handle it?
9. While in Libby Prison, Harrison muses that his own ambition caused his capture. When do you think a person’s ambition can cause him or her harm? Can ambition hold us captive? How?
10. Sophie uses Captain Lawrence Russell first for protection, then as a source of intelligence. In what ways do we use people for our own benefit today?
11. Even though Sophie’s parents and half sister are not physically present in the first two acts of the book, memories of all three of them influence Sophie. How does your family affect you, even when they aren’t around?
12. Throughout Harrison’s time in Richmond, he refers to Psalm 31:15, which says, “My times are in thy hand.” Read all of Psalm 31. Which parts resonate most with you?
13. When Harrison is thrown into Libby Prison, he recalls the proverb, “Beware of what you wish for.” When have you received something you thought you wanted, only to realize it wasn’t what you expected?
14. Sophie cherishes old drafts of her articles full of Harrison’s corrections. What corrections or advice do you cherish now that was difficult to hear at first?
15. When Harrison crawls through a tomb-like tunnel in order to emerge in freedom, he tells himself, “This is not a grave. It is rebirth.” How does this parallel to a spiritual journey?
16. Sophie’s fear of following her mother toward insanity haunted her. How do you keep your fears from controlling you?
17. In Richmond, Bella reminds herself, “I am not a slave.” When Abraham is about to be sold away, she tells him, “You’re free. You’re free.” How does what we believe about ourselves affect us?
18. Sophie’s father orders laudanum to be given to her to help heal her, without understanding that the overdose would harm her mind and body. How do we sometimes try to help ourselves and others with something that could actually harm us?
19. Abraham hates helping the Confederacy by working for Tredegar Iron Works but doing so gives him information valuable to the Union. When has God used a trial in your own life in a surprising way?
20. Harrison encourages Sophie, and ultimately other war survivors, to tell their stories. Why is it important both for those sharing, and for those of us who hear?
I owe a debt of gratitude and appreciation to:
Moody Publishers/River North Fiction, for their dedication to bringing this series to life.
My agent, Tim Beals of Credo Communications, for his enduring support.
My husband, Rob, and children, Elsa and Ethan, for being far more supportive and understanding than I have any right to expect, for the four years it has taken me to research, write, and edit this entire series. My heart can barely contain the love I have for each of you. Rob, you are my happily ever after.
My parents, Peter and Pixie Falck, for watching the kids and bringing me food when I’m too busy to even have an appetite. Also, Dad, your help capturing and ordering my ideas during the outlining stage was indispensable.
Kelly Sizemore, Library of Virginia; Joseph Wheelan, author of Libby Prison Breakout; L. Paige Newman, Virginia Historical Society; John Deeben, National Archives; author Karen A. Chase, Church Hill Association; friends and fellow historical writers Cass Wessel and Peter Leavell; and the staff at Chimborazo Hospital Medical Museum, the Museum of the Confederacy (both in Richmond, Virginia); the Casemate Museum (Fort Monroe, Virginia), and the Siege Museum (Petersburg, Virginia) for contributing to my research.
A host of friends for help with child care: Teresa Carr, Melissa DeFord, Kris Ertl, Kristin Coulson, Amy Lanser, and Jacqueline Thompson.
Darci McVay, for bringing meals to my family, unsolicited, but appreciated more than you know.
Above all, I thank the Lord for granting me the opportunity to tell these stories, for inspiration, and for sustaining me and my family during the years it took to bring them to life. If there is anything good between these pages, it’s only because of Him.
Jocelyn Green is an award-winning author of multiple fiction and nonfiction works, including Faith Deployed: Daily Encouragement for Military Wives, and The 5 Love Languages Military Edition, which she cowrote with Dr. Gary Chapman. Her first novel in the Heroines Behind the Lines series, Wedded to War, was a Christy Award finalist, and the gold medal winner in historical fiction from the Military Writers Society of America. A native Northerner, she and her Southern-born-and-bred husband live in Cedar Falls, Iowa, with their two children. Her goal with every book is to inspire faith and courage in her readers. Visit her at www.jocelyngreen.com.
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The Moody Publishers Team
Now that you’ve enjoyed Spy of Richmond, we know you’ll enjoy the rest of the books in the Heroines Behind the Lines series. Here is an excerpt from books 1–3.
Here’s what others are saying about Jocelyn’s fiction:
With equal amounts history, romance, and mystery, Jocelyn Green writes with heart-stopping detail, crafting a story that resonates on every page.” —Laura Frantz, Awa
rd-Winning Author
Witness ordinary people doing extraordinary things through the anguish and hardship of the Civil War. Jocelyn Green develops the conflict, pulling on our emotions and gripping our minds with the effects war has on soldiers and those left behind. This haunting, heart-thumping drama, and its message of faith, hope, and love, will impact you forever. —Nora St. Laurent, CEO of The Book Club Network and Book Fun Magazine
IT WAS HARD WORK getting myself acceptable and accepted. What with people at home, saying “Goodness me! A nurse!” “All nonsense!” “Such a fly-away!” and what with the requisites insisted upon by the grave committees, I came near losing my opportunity.
First, one must be just so old, and no older; have eyes and a nose and mouth expressing just such traits, and no others; must be willing to scrub floors, if necessary, etc., etc. Finally, however, by dint of taking the flowers out of my bonnet and the flounce off my dress; by toning down, or toning up, according to the emergency, I succeeded in getting myself looked upon with mitigated disapprobation, and was at last sat upon by the committee and passed over to the Examining Board.
—GEORGEANNA WOOLSEY, written for the New York Sanitary Commission Fair, 1864
“GEORGY IS MORE EARNEST than ever about being a nurse for the soldiers. I shall never consent to this arrangement unless some of her own family go with her.”
—JANE ELIZA NEWTON WOOLSEY (Georgeanna’s mother) in a letter, May 1861
Act One
THE CALL
Click HERE to check out the trailer for Wedded to War, book one in the Heroines Behind the Lines Series.
Chapter One
Monday, April 22, 1861
New York City
When Charlotte and Alice told their mother they were taking the omnibus down Broadway, they weren’t lying. They just didn’t tell her where they would be getting off. There was simply no time for an argument today.
Boarding at Fourteenth Street, the sisters paid the extra fare for their hoop skirts, as if they were separate passengers, and sat back on the long wooden bench for the ride.
“This is against my better judgment, you know.” Alice’s voice was barely audible above the clatter of wheels and hoof beats over the cobblestones.
“Don’t you mean Jacob’s?” Charlotte cast a sidelong glance at her sister.
Alice twirled a ringlet of her honey-blonde hair around her finger—a nervous childhood habit she never outgrew—but said nothing.
She didn’t have to. Ever since she had married the wealthy businessman a few months ago, she had been even more pampered—and sheltered—than she had been growing up. Heaven help her when they reached their destination.
“I’ll have you home by teatime and none the worse for wear.” Charlotte’s voice was softened by just a hint of guilt. “I promise.”
The omnibus wheels jolted over a broken cobblestone, bouncing the passengers on their benches. Releasing her grip from the edge of the bench, Alice raised an eyebrow at her sister. “Just tell me why I let you talk me into coming.”
Charlotte grinned. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Why do I have the feeling it isn’t a good one?” Alice planted her palms on the bench beside her again, bracing herself against the jarring ride.
“Whatever you do you mean?”
“Do you remember your idea to adopt that lame squirrel we found?”
“I did let it go.” And there were more important things on Charlotte’s mind. She squinted at the front page of The New York Times held up by the man seated across from her. Washington Still Isolated—New York Seventh Regiment Arrives in Annapolis by Steam—
“Only after it chewed through five of Mother’s best doilies and made a nest in the velvet armchair.”
Charlotte turned from reading headlines to face her sister. “I was ten!”
“And I was eight, and still old enough to know better. There were other times, too, like when you chose that outrageous reading on the value of a woman’s education to recite for our class at finishing school. Completely at odds with the context of the school.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Exactly why it was so perfect! But today’s idea is even better. I’ve found a way to actually do something for the war effort.”
“And what do you call knitting socks for the troops? Rolling bandages? Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Of course it does. But I mean something else. Something more.”
Alice’s eyes narrowed, but she let it rest as the omnibus slowed to a halt and more passengers squeezed beside the sisters. Any further conversation would soon be drowned out by the cacophony of Broadway.
The avenue throbbed with life, like an artery coursing down the island of Manhattan. Ten days into the war, recruiting offices for the Union army had already cropped up along the avenue, their entrances clogged with eager young men. Between Canal Street and Houston, the street teemed with gentlemen in spats and ladies in silks, their musk colognes and lavender perfumes cloying on the warm breeze. The white marble façade of St. Nicholas Hotel between Broome and Spring Streets dominated the west side of Broadway. In front of The Marble Palace facing Canal Street, porters in their brass-buttoned, blue uniforms opened carriage doors and escorted their elite customers inside, where they would no doubt spend staggering sums on the latest Parisian fashions.
But Charlotte and Alice did not get off at any of these places. At least not today. For just a few blocks south of The Marble House, and just a few blocks east of the German-Jewish secondhand clothing shops on lower Broadway, the steady pulse of polished society gave way to the erratic beat of Five Points, the world’s most notorious slum.
Alice squeezed her sister’s hand so tightly Charlotte couldn’t tell if it was motivated by anxiety or anger for bringing her here.
If Broadway was Manhattan’s artery, Five Points was its abscess: swollen with people, infected with pestilence, inflamed with vice and crime. Groggeries, brothels, and dance halls put private sin on public display. Although the neighborhood seemed fairly self-contained, more fortunate New Yorkers were terrified of Five Points erupting, spreading its contagion to the rest of them.
This was where the Waverly sisters got off.
Competing emotions of fear and excitement tugged at Charlotte’s heart as she hoisted the skirt of her amber-colored day dress above her ankles and began heading toward Worth Street. “Come on, Alice,” she whispered, cocking her head at her dumbstruck sister. A foul-smelling breeze teased strands of hair from their coifs, crept into their noses, and coated their throats. Charlotte had forgotten how the smell of poverty would stick to her skin. Swallowing her distaste, she vowed to scrub herself with sugar and lemon-infused olive oil as soon as she returned home.
Pressing a violet-scented handkerchief to her nose, Alice held her parasol low over her head, blocking out as much of the view as possible as she began walking. “Where are we going?” Her words were muffled, but her discomfort was not.
A disheveled drunk leered at the sisters from a rotting doorway, raising the hair on Charlotte’s neck. “The House of Industry. It’s just up ahead.”
With her parasol in one hand and a fistful of skirts in the other, Charlotte set a brisk pace. As they turned onto Worth Street’s littered sidewalk, Alice skirted a child leaning against a lamppost, hawking apples from a broken crate. Charlotte stopped short.
“Maggie?” She reached out and touched the girl’s soot-smudged cheek while Alice gawked from five feet away. “It’s me, Miss Waverly! I used to teach your mother sewing. How is she?”
Maggie peered up with eyes too big for her face, too old for her nine years. “About the same as usual—only there’s not enough sewing to go around, she says—so Jack sweeps the streets and here I am. Say, wouldn’t you and the miss over there like a nice red apple?”
“Of course!” Charlotte reached into her dress pocket and traded several coins for two small, bruised apples smelling of fermentation.
“Charlotte!” Alice gasped while Maggie’s
dirty face brightened. It was far too much money to spend on apples—especially rotting ones.
“Go on now, Maggie. Give your mother my best.”
With “Bless you Miss!” ringing in her ears, Charlotte joined Alice with both apples in one hand, skirt now dragging on the sidewalk.
“Can we hustle, please?” Alice’s voice was still muted behind her handkerchief. Charlotte was eager to comply. Virtually every tipsy wooden building on this block—including Crown’s Grocery—housed a brothel, and none of them bothered hiding the fact. Bareheaded and bare-chested women stood in doorways quoting their rates to passersby, even in broad daylight—which was a dirty yellow, like a fevered complexion. By the time they stepped into the slanted shadow of the six-story House of Industry, Charlotte noticed she had been holding her breath. The vapors in this area could truly make one sick.
“Ah, there you are!” Mr. Lewis Pease, founder of the charity, had been waiting for them in the shade of the brick building, and now waved the sisters inside, away from the seedy, star-shaped intersection for which Five Points was named, half a block away. “And who is this lovely young woman?”
“Forgive me, this is my younger sister Alice—Mrs. Jacob Carlisle.” Charlotte and Alice entered the building ahead of Mr. Pease, who closed the door behind them. “She’s in town visiting for a spell while her husband is away on business.” She set the apples down on the hall stand and wiped her gloves on her skirt.
Pease bowed slightly. “A pleasure to meet you, madam. Mr. Dorsheimer is already here,” he added in a whisper just as the visitor’s barrel chest entered the room ahead of him. “Ah, Mr. Treasurer. Allow me to make the introductions. Miss Waverly, Mrs. Carlisle, this is Mr. Phillip Dorsheimer, Treasurer of the State of New York and the New York State Military Board. He’s here all the way from Buffalo, and we’re so fortunate he’s making time to meet with us.” Mr. Dorsheimer ignored Charlotte’s outstretched hand, fading both her smile and her confidence.
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