by Jerri Hines
Chapter Nine
War fever had become infectious and spread rapidly across the South. The streets of Charleston were filled with drilling regiments in their gray uniforms with blue cockades and red sashes, and swords in sheaths buckled to their waist.
Soldiers and civilians alike sang marching songs. Citadel cadets had begun their own preparations. At night, practice shells lit up the sky like firecrackers at Christmas.
People were restless as they awaited war news. The cry came to reclaim their state from the Federal government. Carolinians wanted the Union troops out of the state…out of Fort Sumter. It had become a battle cry.
Fort Sumter had become the main topic of conversation at dinner parties. Kathleen had been forgotten. Wade had predicted the good citizens saw her as a leper and felt that Andrew was fortunate to have her gone. He had been correct in his assumption.
Focus centered on the reconstruction of government being formed for the new South—the Confederate States of America. Heated debates ensued to the point where some called for South Carolina to secede again from the Confederacy. It was uneasy times.
The arguments overflowed to the dining rooms. The bickering was endless.
“Damn Davis! Sending Beauregard! Beauregard acts as though he is a king to everyone in Charleston, but it is Colonel Whiting who is doing all the work. Beauregard takes the glory and benefit from the colonel’s work.”
“Does it matter who gets the honor? It is all of our honor. We have much to contend with. The New York Herald has written slavery must be extinguished, if in blood. Trying to incite the Yankees!”
“Mark my words. The fort will fall soon enough now. Anderson is burning blue lights, signs and signal for the fleet outside. Why, I heard we even intercepted a letter from Anderson urging them to let him surrender.”
The bickering ended soon enough. When General Beauregard was brought into Charleston to lead the newly founded Confederate Army, he was met with opposition. The people of Charleston never had taken well to orders given by anyone they considered an outsider and Beauregard, from Louisiana, was definitely an outsider.
The serious, reserved man was short, standing only five seven, and thin. Dark-haired, he had a cropped mustache and droopy eyes. His stilted reception did little to ebb Beauregard’s determination to drive every damn Yankee out of the South.
To Jo’s surprise, the cries abruptly turned from revulsion to adoration. The arrogant, haughty general soon had had the whole of Charleston eating out of his hand. General Beauregard became their savior with the promise of leading them to the promise land—free of Northern interference.
Moreover, the general had taken quite a fancy to her husband, impressed with his Naval Academy days. “Wade Montgomery was made to be an officer. Men look up to him,” Beauregard declared openly. “The South needs men such as him.”
It scared Jo…the thought of her husband becoming an officer…the thought of him going into battle.
Nightly, the sound of regular shells exploding in the air resounded throughout the city. It made it impossible for Jo to get a good night’s sleep. Then on Friday, April 12, the highly anticipated time came.
An eerie calm descended when St. Michael’s bells chimed out four o’clock. Shortly after, a heavy boom silenced the anticipation of the moment—the time when the South would make their stand.
General Beauregard issued the order and the newly formed Confederacy’s arms fired at the bombarded fort. The Confederacy had made a stance upon its right to exist—the fight for the rights of the Southern States—and had taken an aggressive position. Jo understood there would be no going back once the bullet fired.
Wade wasn’t home. Anxious to see the response from Fort Sumter, he had joined the rest of the men of the city to watch the exchange. Jenna and Anna urged Jo to join them on the rooftop to watch. Jo declined.
She chose instead to spend the moment with her son. She crept silently into the nursery and watched him sleep. He seemed so peaceful, but she had a sudden worry. What kind of world had she brought him into?
The secessionist leaders had decided South Carolina’s fate and declared that they had been left with no option but the one taken. Had the proud Southern people not the right to protect its way of life?
As she watched her son, Jo pondered what the conflict was truly about. Was it about slavery as the North proclaimed? No. But how could she explain her stance behind the South to her son in years to come when she so violently opposed the peculiar institution?
Over the last few months, she had searched her heart. It bled for Gillie, but she had come to the conclusion the new South in time would do away with the moral evil that encompassed the whole of slavery. It would be their right and duty to do so.
To Jo, it came down to one simple fact. The North made a power move over the South: the North’s constant antagonism toward the South, to remove the power and rights that each state deserved. No, it was their honor: the whole of their lifestyle questioned, debased, and mocked by the Northerner radicals.
Wade’s questioning words troubled her. It had to end quickly. She wouldn’t consider another option. She got down upon her knees and prayed. She prayed to God for everyone: South Carolina, the Confederacy, Wade and…Cullen. Cullen.
She had pushed Cullen to the far recesses of her heart. She had to…or she wouldn’t be able to live the life in front of her with Wade.
Papa had been right. Wade and she were of the same cloth. Each had sacrificed for the betterment of others, put their needs in front of their own. Her heart softened as she thought of her husband.
The weight of his family’s burdens had fallen upon his shoulders. He protected her and gave her unconditional love…a life full of promise. She remembered how angry she had been to have been ripped from Cullen’s arms…but it had not been Wade’s fault. He had been a victim as much as she.
Fear emerged within her as shells exploded in the sky. Her heart was torn in two, much like the two who had been brothers…who now stood on opposite sides of this conflict. Her heart lived on the edge.
Oh, she wanted none of this! While cheers erupted outside, tears flowed slowly down her cheek.
Charleston celebrated. At 2:30 p.m. on April 14, Fort Sumter surrendered. Major Anderson had surrendered less than thirty-four hours after the first shot. With the action, the revelry of parades began. Governor Pickens had a correspondent, William Howard Russell from the London Times, escorted around everywhere. Crowds welcomed anyone with a uniform of gray.
The Mercury’s headlines read: “the Administration of the old Government may abandon at once and forever its vain and visionary hope of forcible control over the Confederate States.”
Church bells rang. Everyone took to the streets, riding in open carriages, exclaiming the virtues of all things Southern. Hopes ran high for the newly founded Confederacy.
Jo chose to stay in the house with the children. She couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that swept through her.
* * * *
The days after the surrender passed swiftly, like the fleeting hand of time. It became obvious that war was upon them and preparations had been made. Inevitably, the South now had to be ready to forcibly defend its right to exist.
How precious the moments had become! Never had Jo been more aware of how precious each moment had become with the threat of Wade leaving to join the fight.
With the morning light, the rapture of the night eased into memories. She wanted nothing more than to stay in her husband’s arms and deny the inevitable day of its power against them.
Jo lay nestled in Wade’s warm, loving arms. He ran his fingers through her rumpled hair as his breath brushed against her ear.
“The orders came down yesterday. Hampton’s Legion has been called up to Virginia.”
Josephine stilled. The moment she had dreaded had arrived. Wade was going to war.
“When?”
“Within the week.”
She wanted to cry, but it would never do. Wad
e was courageous and brave. She would be the same. Breathing in deeply, she collected herself. “I will have everything prepared. Your uniform needs its buttons tightened.” His strong arms turned her and she saw the pain of separation evident in his eyes.
“At one time, I would have been as the others, declaring the Yanks have had this coming and talking of all the glory to be found…” His voice faltered. “But all I feel is I don’t want to leave you. How selfish am I?”
“We must be brave.”
“My darling, I do not know how I can leave if you aren’t brave.” His voice resonated with his deep-felt love. “There is so much I need to say. I cannot help but worry. It maddens me that I’m going to protect my home. Yet when I do so, I will leave you unprotected.”
“I don’t want you to worry, Wade. I will handle everything. I will do my part as well.”
“Then you will do what I request,” he said solemnly. “Grandfather is old and despite his protests, his health is failing. Andrew is to be left behind. With his foot, he would be useless as a battlefield surgeon. It will ease my mind if you allow Andrew to look after the family while I am gone. He has vowed to do so.”
At this moment, she would agree to anything. Andrew mattered little to her compared to Wade leaving her side. Jo crumbled inside, crying to herself. If you must go, you must not die! You must come back to me! She could never utter the words out loud. Instead, she kissed him lightly on his lips. “Don’t let it be me who you worry about, Wade Montgomery. I will miss you when you are gone, but I will be here, waiting impatiently for your return.”
“Then I have no option but to return.” He embraced her tightly until they had no choice but leave the comfort of their bed.
* * * *
Three months passed before Josephine found her way back to Magnolia Bluff. She had left behind a city whose intoxication for the war had not waned. At the end of July, news filtered into the city that the Confederacy had won the first battle at First Manassas in Virginia.
The streets overflowed with excitement. Talk swirled the war would come to a swift end, echoing the sentiment that “one more victory and the war will be over.”
Crowds would wait outside of the Mercury for news of the battles fought. It frightened Jo, for not only did the paper carry news of the conflicts, but also the list of dead and wounded.
There was no official system of notifying kin. A casualty list was sent to papers to be posted for all to see. It was anguish to read over the names. The human cost of the war was heartbreaking, shattering families with sorrow of the loss of a loved one. Most times, a letter of condolence would be sent to the family by the commanding officer. Rarely, a telegram was sent—only under special circumstances.
Jo’s days had been spent with the other ladies, making uniforms for their brave men. Late afternoon was saved for walks with the babies along the Battery, accompanied by Mother Montgomery.
It had not been long after Wade had departed that Jenna had met a young man, Derek Elbridge. He tarried from a plantation in Georgia not far outside of Atlanta. As most young men, he had readily joined one of the legions formed in Charleston the moment the first shot was fired, worried the war would be over before he could reach Virginia.
Caught up in the war fever, the two young lovers wanted to marry, but Grandfather Montgomery refused to give his consent. At seventeen, Jenna was heartbroken and felt her young life would end if she didn’t marry Derek immediately.
“Young lady, I’m not objecting to the marriage. I ask only you wait until he returns. It won’t take long. Mark my word,” Clayton stated firmly. There was no changing his mind.
Jenna fumed, but Derek refused to go against her family’s wishes. Jo held him in high esteem for his actions. So it was that as Jo before her, Jenna had to say good-bye to her soldier.
The events of those months merged together. One day seemed like the next. In the gleaming sunlight, Jo watched Jenna say good-bye to Derek. He looked so handsome in his gray uniform. He reminded her of Wade headed off on his best mount with a sword Grandfather Montgomery had ordered for him.
She missed Wade terribly and lived for his letters. He wrote of his men and camp life, but never once did he complain. He shared with her his hope for their future at the close of each correspondence and told of his undying love for her.
His letters brought comfort, but without Wade to shield her fears of the future, the glaring inconsistencies of her life edged their way to her consciousness. Her longing was sharpened as the days lengthened.
The return to Magnolia Bluff had been earlier than previous years. Clayton Montgomery had enjoyed himself immensely in Charleston, but he had a sudden need to be home. Jo complied and packed up the babies, their nursemaids, and Jenna. Mother Montgomery had already planned a visit down to Savannah with Anna to visit Cousin Sarah and Charlotte.
The house was ready, as Andrew had been living there, but the nursery needed to be cleaned. Jo took to it early the following morning after feeding Percival. Lottie, Percival’s nursery maid, took the babies down into the parlor while the rooms were scrubbed.
Jo hadn’t bothered to wake Jenna. The poor thing was grieving Derek’s departure. Despite the high spirits at the train station, Jenna had become disheartened.
As she wiped a window, Jo heard a shriek emerge from downstairs. Dropping her rag, she raced down the stairs. Before she got down the staircase, she saw Lottie holding Percival. Her heart calmed. Then she saw the blackies crowding around the foyer by the study’s door.
She gripped the banister and hurried down. When she entered into the study, she found Clayton Montgomery, the patriarch of the family, sprawled out on the floor. His breathing labored, he lay unconscious.
As she knelt beside him, she looked up to find Amos standing there, looking helpless.
“Go find Dr. Andrew…now!” Jo demanded, but she knew as well as Amos it would do no good.
Clayton Montgomery passed away without regaining consciousness.
* * * *
In the twilight, Josephine stood on the veranda and overviewed the gardens. In the weeks that had followed Grandfather Montgomery’s death, it had become her habit to take in the night air before she retired.
Sadness descended upon Magnolia Bluff. An era had passed with the death of the monarch of the family and the plantation mourned. The family had Clayton Montgomery’s body taken back to Charleston and laid to rest in the family plot alongside his wife, Amelia. Despite her personal feelings about the man, he had loved his wife, who had died near over twenty years ago. He had never remarried, but had stayed faithful to her memory.
Most of the extended family managed to attend the burial. Andrew had sent messages to both Wade and Cullen to notify them of the death. No one expected their attendance.
In the weeks that had passed, Josephine noticed subtle changes. Though the slaves had showed the utmost respect to their master upon his death with their prayers and hymns, tension among the blackies had risen.
Andrew had assured her that there was nothing to be concerned about. It was to be expected with the war brewing around them that unrest would manifest itself, but at Magnolia Bluff it seemed to be mostly curiosity about the conflict. Miss Hazel had repeated the same.
It gave Jo a measure of comfort, but more weighed upon her. Rumors proliferated of a Union blockade along the Southern coastline. How were they supposed to transport crops or receive goods? The overseer, Barclay Laird, was optimistic about the yields in the fields but it would do little good if they had nowhere to sell their crops.
But her constant worry was her son. Word had trickled through the lines that Cullen served with the blockade. Magnolia Bluff was vulnerable, sitting along the Ashley River. Jo feared they were defenseless if the Union Navy attacked Charleston.
Andrew assured her that would never happen. Charleston was too well defended, but she remembered all too well Cullen showing up before Percival’s birth without warning.
“Josephine?”
&nb
sp; She recognized the voice behind her readily enough. Andrew walked toward her, limping heavily, which had become more pronounced as of late. Since his self-proclaimed exile from Charleston society, his appearance had altered. He had become rather unkempt. His wrinkled waistcoat needed cleaning; his hair was uncombed. He had grown a beard. Moreover, he had only left Magnolia Bluff for the funeral. “Jo, I have a matter to discuss.”
“I’m sorry, Andrew, I was about to go check on the children.”
His eyebrows lifted. “It will only take a moment and I fear I must insist.”
Silently, she chastised herself. She was tired and had no desire to be pulled into a deep conversation. “Can it not wait until the morning?”
“So you can think of another excuse not to talk with me?” Andrew said in a solicitous tone. “I do not want to add to your burdens, Jo. I know what you think of me, but I assure you I want only to make amends between us…for Wade’s sake.”
“Is it necessary? I gave my word to Wade I would allow you to run Magnolia Bluff. But you must understand I only tolerate you because Wade insisted.” She shrugged. “I accept your presence. I hope, though, you don’t expect me to entertain you. I am sorry for your misfortune, but that is the extent of it. And I don’t see the need to have only the most formal conversation. Now if you—”
“Jo, stop.” He sighed. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I cannot ask you to do what I cannot do myself. No, this has to do with the running of Magnolia Bluff.”
“It is not necessary. As I said, Wade warned me, and I will not dispute what he has set up. He realized that Grandfather Montgomery was in ill health. He had no problem with Barclay as overseer—”
“Listen to me for a moment,” he interrupted her. “I want only to let you know of a situation. It has to do with White Oaks.”
Silenced, Jo stared at Andrew, frightened of what he would say. Yet, she had to ask. “Has something happened?”