‘The general has been told that Patterson is keeping them heavily engaged.’ Bridges treated the question with respect. ‘He believes there is no chance they will be able to play a part in the affair here. Even if they did succeed in moving away from Patterson, the distance is simply too great for them to arrive here before we bring the enemy to battle.’
‘What about the railways?’ Jack spoke up. He remembered the French flanking march before Solferino. The French army had used the railway line to move across the face of the enemy, a feat that would never have been possible had the men had to travel on foot; the distance too great and the manoeuvre carrying too much risk. The railway had allowed the French to steal the initiative from the static and slower-moving Austrian army. Warfare was changing. Commanders who grasped that fact, and used modern advances in technology to their advantage, were the ones who triumphed.
Bridges sipped at his coffee as he contemplated Jack’s question. It gave another man the chance to answer.
‘Lieutenant Lark doubts that our general knows what he is doing.’ Rowell spoke in a much louder tone than Bridges had used when addressing the group. The commander of A Company stood on the fringe of the group. He looked exhausted, his eyes red and surrounded by puffy grey bags.
‘There is a railroad,’ Bridges answered. ‘Mr Lark is right to think that could be a decisive factor.’
‘For God’s sake, Temperance.’ Rowell used the major’s first name in an arrogant, mocking tone. He did so deliberately. It reminded all present of the true pecking order in the regiment, one that was not necessarily delineated by rank. In the hierarchy of Boston society, Rowell’s place as a future member of the Kearney family placed him well above a man like Bridges, a fact the captain would seize upon with relish. ‘Do not listen to the fears of a whining goddam Englishman.’
Bridges did not utter a sound. He simply looked at Rowell, then took another sip of his coffee.
‘Thank you, Captain Rowell.’ When he did speak, his tone was unchanged. ‘I appreciate your advice as always.’ He turned to look at Jack. ‘And I thank you, Lieutenant Lark, for your question. I shall present it to brigade.’
‘For God’s sake, man, if you are going to listen to a—’
‘That is all, gentlemen.’ Bridges cut Rowell dead. ‘We have the day to gather our strength after the exertions of yesterday. I suggest you use the time wisely.’
Rowell’s mouth was still open. He closed it with a visible effort, then turned sharply on his heel and walked briskly away. He did so alone, not one officer moving to his side.
Jack sat on a wooden packing case full of cartridges and cleaned his revolver with meticulous care, pulling a cloth through each chamber. He had learned the hard way never to take any weapon for granted.
‘May I disturb you?’
He looked up sharply. He had been giving the weapon his full attention and so had not heard anyone approach.
‘Of course.’ He put down the cleaning rod, then rose to his feet and nodded an awkward greeting to Elizabeth Kearney.
She looked out of place. Her dress was made from a cool, dusky red satin accented with white lace. Amidst the greys and blues of the army camp, she stood out like a peacock in a dovecote. She also looked way more beautiful than he remembered.
He did not know what he was supposed to say. The silence between them was awkward and went on far too long. The last time they had met they had shared a kiss. He did not know what that meant, or whether he should mention it.
‘Did my brother give you the package I sent?’ Elizabeth lowered her eyes and smiled as she recognised his discomfort. It was an emotion she clearly did not share.
‘Yes. Thank you.’ He was doing his best not to stare. It was a temptation that was almost impossible to resist.
‘Mr Brady took a fine portrait. I think we look quite the handsome couple.’
Jack tore his eyes from her and looked around him, noting the many faces turned their way. ‘What are you doing here?’ He could not keep the gruffness from his tone.
‘Are you not pleased to see me?’ Elizabeth stuck the tip of her tongue between her lips as she teased him.
‘Have you see Rowell?’
‘No, but I will.’ The first hint of a frown appeared on Elizabeth’s face.
‘You should have stayed in Washington.’
‘Why, half of Washington is here. It would look amiss if we did not come and visit, especially with my brother and husband-to-be here. Besides, we don’t want to miss it.’
‘Miss what?’
‘The battle, of course. It has been the talk of the town for weeks now. Anyone who is anyone has come to see it.’
Jack scowled. ‘A battle is not a spectacle to be watched as entertainment.’
Elizabeth’s frown deepened. ‘I wonder what has put you into such a black mood this morning, Jack. I thought you would be pleased to see me.’
‘You shouldn’t be here.’
‘And why is that?’ The first crack in the demure facade appeared.
‘You should be with your intended.’
‘I see.’ The two words were glacial. ‘I thought you would want a moment with me.’
‘What I want has nothing to do with anything.’
Elizabeth took a pace closer towards him. ‘What do you want, Jack?’
Jack could not help shaking his head at the question. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I know what I want,’ she whispered. ‘But I don’t have the courage to say it.’
Jack heard something in her tone then. He could not say why, but he suddenly felt as if she were an actress on a stage. She was delivering her lines with perfection, yet they did not resonate with emotion. They were too schooled and bore a hint of premeditation. Every instinct told him that she was playing with him.
And he finally understood. Elizabeth could have anything she wanted. She could have anyone she wanted. It gave her power, and like all such power it could only corrupt.
‘Courage is a rare thing.’ He looked at her, staring deep into the beautiful blue eyes that gazed at him as if he was the only man on earth. ‘I saw courage yesterday. We lost men. Did you know that? Men from this company died. They died for a cause they believed in. It wasn’t entertainment. It wasn’t some bloody game.’ He closed his eyes as he felt the emotion stir deep in his belly. ‘Jesus Christ.’
When he opened them again, he no longer saw a beautiful creature standing in front of him, an angel given human form. He saw a silly girl playing games.
‘I see I have made you angry.’ Elizabeth stepped away, her eyes downcast. A single tear ran down her cheek, carving a narrow channel in the powder painted onto her face.
He looked away from the sight. Doubt flooded through his veins. He was being cruel. If he was wrong, then he was an utter bastard.
It was then that he caught sight of a mismatched pair approaching. One face was contorted with barely contained fury. The other displayed nothing but an amused smile. Captain Ethan Rowell stomped towards them, his legs working furiously to propel him across the ground, followed closely by Elizabeth’s maid, Rose, who was forced into a jog to keep up.
Jack turned back to look at Elizabeth. He was quick enough to catch the tiniest flicker of a smile on her lips.
‘What the hell is going on?’ hissed Rowell as soon as he was close enough. His face was flushed with more than just the heat and the exertion of his fast pace.
‘Miss Kearney came here looking for you.’ Jack tried to hold onto his temper.
Rowell stepped forward so the two men were eyeball to eyeball. ‘Horseshit. We all know the game you’re playing.’
‘Ethan!’ Elizabeth gasped at Rowell’s language. She turned to the maid. ‘Rose, go away.’ The command was snapped.
Jack thought he detected a hint of delight in
her outrage. ‘Mind your tongue,’ he barked at Rowell. ‘Before someone minds it for you.’
Rowell leered into Jack’s face. ‘That someone being you, I take it.’ He shook his head slowly, but his eyes bored into Jack’s skull. ‘Why, you have dogged my every step since you got here. My every goddam step.’
Jack said nothing. There were no words that would mollify Rowell. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rose walking away as she had been ordered.
‘Now you stand here openly courting my girl in front of everybody.’ Rowell’s mouth twisted into something ugly. ‘You are nothing more than a goddam Limey son of a bitch.’
Jack saw what was coming. Rowell was working himself up, the anger spewing out of him like vomit from a drunk. There was only one way it would finish.
Rowell’s arm came up, the hand bunched into a fist. It moved no more than an inch before Jack snapped his own hand forward and seized it in a vice-like grip.
‘Do not start something you cannot finish,’ he snarled, his voice low. He felt Rowell’s arm vibrate under his grip.
‘Why—’
‘Enough.’ Jack cut his officer off. ‘You’re wrong about me. I’m not here to interfere in your life.’ He tightened his grip as he felt Rowell struggle to free himself. ‘I’m not your bloody enemy.’
He threw Rowell’s arm away, then tensed, waiting for a reaction.
Rowell was seething, his jaw clenched tight. Yet he kept his hands down. There was no sign of a second attempt at a punch. Jack kept his eyes locked on the captain’s for a few moments more, then turned his back and ran after Rose.
She was a fair distance away, so it took him a while to catch her up. She turned as she heard the pounding of his boots on the sun-baked ground.
‘You done mooning over that fancy woman now?’ She raised a hand to shelter her eyes from the sun that was directly behind Jack’s shoulder.
‘She was never my fancy woman. And I never mooned.’
Rose’s face split into a smile. ‘You believe what you want to believe. I know what I saw, and you were mooning after that woman something bad.’
‘I didn’t think it was that obvious.’ Jack managed to find a thin-lipped smile by way of return. He took a deep breath into his lungs. The short run had left him breathless, or at least he blamed the exertion for the tightness in his chest.
‘Maybe a blind man might’ve missed it.’ Rose teased him without mercy. ‘But I wouldn’t bet my life on that.’
Jack laughed. He did not mean to, but it escaped before he could hold it in. ‘I think I’ve been a fool.’
‘You have that about right.’ She laughed back at him.
Jack liked the sound. He did not think Rose laughed often. A thought struck him. ‘What were you doing with Rowell?’
‘I was asked to fetch him.’
‘By Elizabeth?’
‘Who else.’
Jack felt a moment’s relief. Any doubts he had left fell away. He was sure that Elizabeth had sent Rose to get Rowell simply to ensure the confrontation between the two men. ‘Thank God for that.’
‘Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.’ The rejoinder was given sharply.
‘I apologise.’ Jack could not help but smile. He looked at Rose and was struck again by how pretty she was. He had seen it before, but had not given it much thought. Now he did.
‘Why are you grinning like a fool?’
‘Because you were right.’
‘Of course I was right.’ Her reply was tart, but it was given with a smile.
Jack reached out to her then. There was a hint of colour high on her cheeks, and his fingers touched it.
Rose flinched, her head pulling away sharply.
‘I’m sorry.’ His hand dropped.
‘No, don’t be sorry.’ Rose looked at him. ‘I don’t like being touched.’
‘Because of those?’ Jack nodded towards the thin tracery of scars on her cheek.
She nodded.
‘How did you get them?’
‘I was whipped.’ Her chin lifted then. Defiance replaced timidity.
‘Before you came to Boston?’
Her lips pressed tight together and she nodded.
Jack would not press her further. He knew what it was to bear scars. His body boasted a dozen of them. As did his soul.
‘Rowell tried to kill me.’ He spoke in an off-hand fashion, as if remarking on the weather. He did so intentionally.
‘He did what?’ Rose could not help the exclamation. The mood between them changed immediately.
Jack laughed. ‘He pulled a gun on me. Just yesterday.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I stopped him.’
‘You didn’t think to kill him back?’
Jack snorted. ‘No, I didn’t think that.’
‘I would have.’ Rose’s hand lifted to the scars on her face. ‘I killed the man who did this to me.’
Jack’s eyes widened. ‘Well, he deserved it.’ He deliberately kept the mood light. He had had his fill of darkness. He held out a crooked arm. ‘Will you walk with me?’
He saw the shadow flicker across her face. Then she smiled. ‘You sure you want to walk with a girl like me?’
Jack held her gaze, then simply nodded. ‘I have never been more sure of anything.’
Outside Centreville, Virginia, Saturday 20 July 1861
Jack sat on the ground where he had spent a second night trying, and mainly failing, to sleep. Familiarity had not made the occasion any more pleasurable. His back ached abominably and he dreaded getting to his feet, knowing full well that he would be lucky not to fall back onto his arse. He cocked an ear as he heard a strange sound far off in the distance, one he thought he recognised.
‘You hear that?’ he asked Robert, who was lying at his side. He was ignored. ‘Heh!’ He reached over and jabbed a finger into his fellow lieutenant’s side. It bounced off bone. There was more meat on a maggot.
‘Can you not leave a man to rest?’ The reply was muffled, Robert’s head still buried beneath his blanket.
‘Hush your noise. Now listen. Can you hear something?’
Robert groaned, but he pulled the blanket from his face and did as he was told. ‘Sounds like a locomotive to me.’
Jack nodded. ‘That’s what I thought too. You think that’s the enemy bringing in troops from the Shenandoah?’
‘It can’t be. It’s too far away for that. Anyway, Bridges said it wasn’t possible. Patterson has the enemy well in hand.’
‘You sure of that?’
‘I’m sure that I’m damn near starved.’ Robert threw back the blanket and forced himself to sit upright. ‘I sincerely hope those fresh rations arrive this morning.’
‘They’d better. Otherwise we’ve been sitting here on our bloody arses for nothing.’ Jack shook his head at the folly. The army had wasted the previous day doing precious little. They had no orders to do anything but more of the same that day. McDowell was granting the Confederate generals one of the most valuable resources a commander of an army could wish for. Time.
‘At least we’re still here. I heard that the 4th Pennsylvania Regiment and the 8th New York are packing up to go home. Those boys only signed up for three months. Their time is done.’ Robert spoke in an off-hand fashion.
‘So they’re just buggering off?’
‘If you mean are they leaving, then yes, that’s what I heard.’ Robert smiled at Jack’s choice of words. They had been together for many weeks now, but he still found the Englishman’s turn of phrase at once both fascinating and incomprehensible. ‘I wish I could go home.’
‘Why? What is waiting for you there?’ Jack asked.
‘Life, Jack, life is waiting for me.’ Robert looked at him to emphasise the meaning be
hind the words. ‘A whole glorious life.’
Jack was saved from finding a reply as he spotted Major Bridges approaching. He was on his feet as quickly as his aching bones would allow, dragging Robert up at the same time.
‘Good morning, sir. Have you got orders for us?’ He fired off the question as soon as Bridges was near.
‘Good morning to you both. In answer to your question, Lieutenant, no, I have no new orders.’ Bridges did not bother to hide his impatience. Jack was not alone in finding the delay insufferable.
‘What the hell is that lame-brained fool thinking of?’ Jack let his frustration show.
Bridges’ mouth was hidden behind his hefty moustache, but Jack saw his lips twitch in amusement. ‘If the lame-brained fool you refer to is the general, then I am happy to say that I have been briefed on a new plan.’
‘So let’s hear it.’
‘You sound dubious, Jack.’
‘Dubious?’ Jack gave a snort at the word. ‘Too bloody right I’m dubious. I’m a downright doubting bloody Thomas, but if you’ve been told the general’s latest scheme, then I’d like to hear it.’
Bridges shook his head. ‘You are just a lieutenant, Jack, but I swear you think you should be commanding this entire army.’
‘I reckon I could do a better job than this McDowell fellow. I wouldn’t have left us sitting on our bloody arses for days on end. You think the men on the other side of the river are waiting around doing sod all, or do you think they’ll be doing everything they can think of to prepare for our attack?’
Bridges looked at him carefully. ‘I need you to mind your tongue, Jack. We might have failed to find a way around the Confederates’ right, but the general believes he has found a way to turn their left. There is a ford over the Bull Run at a place called Sudley Springs that is good enough for wheeled vehicles. If the enemy’s strength is to the east, where we ran into them the other day, then their left must be weaker.’
‘Go on.’ Jack wanted to hear more. He thought nothing of giving an order to a superior officer.
The True Soldier: Jack Lark 6 Page 30