Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (47 page)

It was almost dark before Carrie and Hobbs finished boxing up the last of the herbs - packed in crates carefully to keep them from breaking.   Sam helped Hobbs carry up the last box
; then Opal called them in for dinner.  Carrie ate hungrily, tired from her long day of labor but satisfied with the results.  Unless the black hospital was hit with something terrible, there would be enough medicine to make it through the winter. 

             
“I’m going to spend the evening in my father’s office,” Carrie announced when she was finished.  “I have some work I want to do there.”

             
“What your plans for tomorrow?”  Sam asked.

             
“I’m going down by the river,” Carrie announced.  “I’ve done all the work I intend to do.  Tomorrow I’m just going to have fun.”

             
Sam nodded his agreement then turned back to his paper.  Carrie watched him quietly for a moment with her noticing the intelligent shine of his eyes and the thoughtful crease of his brow.  How could people think blacks were an inferior race to whites?   “You’d make a fine lord of the manor someday,” she said suddenly. 

             
Sam looked up and grinned.  “Thank you, Miss Carrie.  I reckons I would at that.”  He shook his head.  “Won’t be gettin’ a chance to do that, but I reckons I could have if things had been different.”  He picked up his paper again.  “You get on to your daddy’s office.”

             
“Yes, sir,” Carrie said demurely.  Sam’s laughter followed her from the room. 

             
Carrie stopped smiling when she entered her father’s office.  She lit the lanterns along the wall and just stood quietly in the center of the spacious, elegant room and absorbed the essence of her father’s presence.  She could still feel him there.  Could almost smell the aroma of his pipe.  Could almost see him bent over the plantation record books or brooding over a book.  Could almost hear his ready laugh as she stopped in to talk with him.  Tears welled in her eyes.  She missed him.  She missed the man who had encouraged her to be different from everyone else.  The man who had cheered her on no matter what she did.  The man who had taught her to be fair and never let bitterness rule her actions.  What had happened to him? 

             
Carrie shook her thoughts away and began to roam around the room.  She didn’t really know why she had come in here.  Didn’t know what she was looking for.  She had simply felt this strange compulsion.  She had learned to listen to these quiet messages in her head.  She walked slowly, her eyes scanning the bookshelves. 

             
Suddenly she stopped, a row of thick albums luring her.  She reached out and grabbed the first thick volume, carried it over to her father’s desk, then settled down in the plush chair, and opened it carefully.  “Family pictures,” she murmured in delight.  She wasn’t sure she had seen them before.  Most of the pages were empty, but the first few held pictures of her mother and father when they were children - then grown-ups.   Staring at the bright happy faces in the pictures, Carrie examined them closely.  When those pictures had been taken, neither of the confident people smiling up at the camera had had any idea his and her whole way of life would be shattered - that one would be taken by a sudden illness, leaving the other one behind to deal with this horrible Civil War.

             
Carrie blinked away tears as she absorbed the looks of youthful innocence on her parents’ faces.  Her heart also grieved for the generation living now that had already been robbed of their youthful innocence by the war.  Carefree smiles had long ago been replaced with worry and sorrow. 

             
She continued to flip the pages slowly.  Suddenly her hand froze.  She picked up the heavy volume and held it closer to the light, poring over the face staring up at her.  Her hands shaking, she flipped the picture over.   “Thomas Cromwell III,” she muttered.  Not able to believe what she was seeing, she turned it back over again. 

             
A sudden pounding of footsteps on the porch seized her attention.  The front door flung open, crashing against the wall.   Seconds later Carl’s young voice filled the hallway.  “They’re coming!  The Yankees are coming!”

             
Carrie whitened and jumped up from the desk.  Grabbing the thick volume, she slammed it shut and stuck it under her arm.  She reached the hallway the same time Sam did. 

             
“What you talkin’ about, boy?” he asked sternly.

             
Carl nodded his head excitedly, his eyes wide in his face.  “I saw them, Mr. Sam.  I was comin’ back from fishin’.”  He gasped for breath.  “They comin’ here to the house.  I heard them say so.”

             
“Tonight?”  Sam asked sharply.

             
“I don’t think so,” Carl said, trying to catch his breath.  “They set up camp just a mile or so from here.  They say they was gonna come just before dawn and surprise us.”

             
“What  they comin’ for?”

             
“I dunno,” Carl said.  “I heard ‘em say something about looking for food.”

             
“They aren’t going to get any of my food,” Opal snapped, walking up behind them.  “Them soldiers got plenty.  They aren’t taking what I worked so hard for all summer.  I aim to feed you children all winter, and we need that food.”

             
Sam turned to Carrie.  “You gots to get out of here.”

             
Carrie nodded quickly, her heart racing.  “Get Hobbs.”

             
“I’m here,” he announced from the shadows.  “I heard enough.  I’ll get the wagon hooked up.”  He turned and disappeared. 

             
Carrie thought quickly.  The rest of the children had gathered in the foyer and were staring in wide-eyed fright.  “You don’t have anything to worry about,” she assured them.  “Those soldiers aren’t going to take your food.”  Then she began to give orders.  “Amber, please go upstairs and pack my things, then bring them down to the wagon.”  She turned to Sadie next.  “Please take care of Hobbs’ things.”  Then she turned to Sam and Opal.  “Come with me,” she urged.

             
“You need to be gettin’ out of here,” Sam said anxiously.  “Them soldiers might decide to come tonight after all.”

             
Carrie shook her head decidedly, forcing away the picture of all the boxes stacked in the wagons. She ached to think of something happening to the herbs, but she refused to leave Sam and Opal with the possibility of not enough food for the long winter.  “Come with me,” she repeated, breaking into a run.  Somehow she knew she didn’t have a minute to lose. 

             
“Where we goin’?”  Sam gasped as they reached the top of the basement stairs.

             
Carrie flew down the stairs, holding the lantern high, not bothering to answer.  Moments later she was smiling at the astonished looks on Sam and Opal’s face.  “No one is supposed to know about this,” she said sternly.  “This tunnel is a Cromwell family secret.”  She paused to take a breath.  “It’s the only way I can think of for you to save the food.  If you hurry, you can probably get most of it down here.”

             
Sam and Opal edged forward to stare into the dark opening of the tunnel.  Quickly, Carrie showed them how it worked. 

             
Sam whistled then straightened.  “Thank you, Miss Carrie.  We makes sure we hides all that food.  And I promises you that ain’t nobody here gonna be tellin’ your family secret.  Now you and Hobbs gots to be gettin’ on.”

             
Carrie nodded, then headed back up the stairs, and hurried outside.  Hobbs was already waiting in the wagon.  Amber and Sadie were just putting the bags in the back.  Carrie swung around to give all of them a fierce hug; then she jumped up onto the wagon seat. 

             
“Good luck,” Sam called softly.

             
“You, too,” Carrie called back, gripping the seat as Hobbs urged the horses into a brisk trot.   She waved until she knew the darkness had swallowed them then turned back to stare hard at the road in front of them, her heart pounding.

             
“I’ll get us out of here,” Hobbs said, just loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the wagon wheels. 

             
Carrie stared out over the fields just barely discernible in the darkness.  Her heart ached to have to leave the plantation so abruptly.  She wasn’t ready yet.  She hadn’t restored all of her heart yet.  Her mind flew to her special place by the river.  Tears poured down her face as she realized her months of longing wouldn’t be fulfilled. 

             
Stop it!
She told herself fiercely. 
You got what you came for.  Let that be enough. 

             
Suddenly Hobbs cursed under his breath and sawed back on the reins. 

             
Carrie, caught off balance, grabbed for her seat, just barely stopping herself from flying out of the wagon.  “What are you...?”  Her words died as she looked up and saw a line of horses extended across the road just past where the drive entered the main road. 

             
She saw Hobbs move to grab his rifle.  She reached over and stopped his hand.  “It’s too late,” she said quietly.

             
“You’re a wise woman,” the lead horseman said coldly.  “I would hate to have to put a bullet through your driver’s heart.”

             
“I would hate that too,” Carrie said, fighting to remain calm. 

             
“Where are you going so late at night?” he snapped.

             
“Home,” Carrie said simply.  “I find I prefer to travel at night.  I have been visiting all day.”

             
“I bet,” the soldier laughed.  Then he sobered.  “I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere, ma’am.  Why don’t you step down from that wagon?” 

CHAPTER TWENTY

             
Watching the skyline of London disappear with mixed feelings, Robert leaned against the railing of the British commerce ship.  His mission had failed.  In spite of the court’s order for Russell to release the
Alexandra
, with which he had complied, he had nonetheless put the two boats that were close to completion in Laird Shipyard under inspection early in September.   A few weeks later, the British government bought the two badly needed ships.  It was rumored that Russell felt certain he had averted a crisis with the Union government and was proud of his actions. 

             
Those same actions had made Robert’s purpose for being in London obsolete.  He had packed his bags and made arrangements for the first ship leaving England.  Even though he regretted the outcome of the Confederacy’s attempt to buy the two badly needed blockade runners, he could not deny his excitement over reaching home and foremost seeing his wife again. 

             
“Why, it’s Mr. Borden, is it not?”

             
Robert spun around as the musical voice sounded over his shoulder.  “Miss Paxton?” he asked with a smile. 

             
“You remember me,” she said in a pleased voice.

             
“I could never forget the only fellow Virginian I met in England,” Robert responded.  “How are you?”

             
“Rather anxious to get this trip over,” she confided honestly.  “In spite of the improvements made on the blockade runners that England has managed to slip past their government, I still get nervous at the idea of running it.”

             
“Understandably,” Robert agreed.  “I’m afraid I’m so eager to get home that I haven’t given it much thought.”

             
“Does your wife know you’re on the way?”

             
“I left the day after I decided to go home.  I will be the letter announcing my arrival,” Robert grinned.  “Are you going back to the South to stay, Miss Paxton?”

             
“Please call me Suzanne,” she protested.  “We will be on this boat for a while.”

             
“And I’m Robert,” he responded graciously.  “Now are you returning to stay?”  He wondered what had happened to her fiancé but didn’t want to ask.  He was afraid it would be awkward.

             
“No,” Suzanne said, gazing back longingly at the rapidly disappearing city.  “I’m going back to take supplies to loved ones.”   Her look hardened.  “I have received countless letters from friends and family in dire need of the basic necessities of clothes and food.  The Union blockade is causing them to be quite destitute, I’m afraid.”  She glanced back once more then turned away.  “I’m happy to report there are dozens of barrels of clothing stored in the hull of this ship.  I have the government’s promise that the blockade runner I get on will run them through.  I intend to make sure everything gets there.”  She smiled slightly.  “Then I’m returning to London.  I’ll be married on my return.”

             
Robert looked at her in admiration.  “You’re a very brave lady.”

             
“Pooh!”  Suzanne scoffed.  “One does what one has to do in these times.”  She turned away from the railing.  “I have some unpacking I need to do to get settled.  Will I see you at dinner?”

             
“Certainly,” Robert responded, glad to have agreeable company for the return journey. 

Robert grinned broadly as the man directing passengers pointed him and Suzanne toward the
Phantom
.   “This is the boat I came here on,” he confided.  “I don’t think we have a thing to worry about.   Captain Bueller is a first-rate fellow.”

             
“I’m glad to hear that,” Suzanne replied.  “I’ll form my own judgment of him after he agrees to carry my shipment of clothes.”

             
Robert laughed.  He had grown accustomed to Suzanne’s strong will.  She reminded him more and more of Carrie.  If all went well, he would be home in less than two weeks.  He could hardly wait.  Their trip from London had been uneventful.  Suzanne had kept it from being deadly boring.  They had been forced to prolong their stay in Nassau, but three days on the sunny little island had certainly not been a hardship.  It was only Robert’s impatience to get home that kept him from truly enjoying it.

             
“Good to see you again, old man,” Captain Bueller boomed as Robert stepped onto the boat. 

             
“The same,” Robert responded sincerely.  If possible, the captain was a little more wind-burned, but other than that he hadn’t changed. 

             
“So what did you think of our little town?” 

             
“Little town?”  Robert laughed.  “I found London very interesting, but it could never hold my heart the way the South does.”  He turned toward Suzanne.  “Here’s a woman who feels differently, however.  She’s headed back to London as quickly as she can.”  Pulling Suzanne forward, he made the introductions.

             
“Welcome aboard, Miss Paxton,” Captain Bueller said gallantly.  “I hope you enjoy your trip.”

             
Suzanne didn’t return his smile.  “I’ll enjoy it much more when you have assured me the barrels of clothing I am accompanying from England will be on board your ship.  Otherwise, I’m afraid I will wait for another boat.”

             
Captain Bueller glanced at Robert and grinned.  “Has trouble speaking her mind, doesn’t she?”

             
Suzanne glared at him for a moment but then smiled reluctantly as she saw the fun dancing in his blue eyes.  “So will you take my barrels?” she asked firmly.

             
Captain Bueller nodded.  “I was informed ahead of time of your mission.”  He peered at her closely.  “You must be an important lady.”

             
Suzanne shrugged.  “No more so than the next person.”

             
Robert watched her.  Once again the feeling of having seen her somewhere rose to taunt him.  He thought about what Bueller had said.  She must indeed be important for the English government to intervene in the matter of some clothing. 
Who was she?

             
Suzanne extended her hand.  “Thank you so much, Captain Bueller.”  Now that her mission was assured, she was all politeness and charm.

             
Captain Bueller laughed affably.  “Know how to get what you want don’t you, ma’am?”  He tipped his hat.  “You’re welcome aboard the
Phantom
.  I’m hoping for a smooth trip.” 

             
“I just want to get there,” Suzanne said calmly.  “I don’t care whether it’s smooth or rough.  I’ve seen it all.”  She smiled, turned on her heel, and walked to the front of the boat.

             
Bueller gazed after her for a moment before he turned back to Robert.  “Interesting lady,” he said dryly.

             
“She’s amazingly like my wife,” Robert grinned.  “You don’t want to be the one standing in either one’s way.”

             
“I imagine.”  The captain changed the subject.  “Was your trip a success?”

             
“No,” Robert said shortly.  “I learned a lot about England, but I’m afraid I did nothing for the Confederacy.  I’m glad to be returning home.”

             
Bueller nodded.  “We leave in one hour.  Will you join me up front then?”

             
Robert was pleased.  “Certainly.”  

             
He settled himself in short order then joined the captain.  “How are things?”

             
“Depends of what things you’re asking about.  I don’t think your Confederacy is doing too well.  I don’t imagine you’ve heard anything about that fight down in Georgia.  Chickamauga, I think, they called it.”

             
“The news reached England just before I sailed,” Robert said.  “I understand it was a smashing Southern victory.”

             
“Goes to show how much you can trust the papers,” Bueller grunted, checking his instruments as he talked.  “That battle cost the South way too many men.  The North seems to have an endless supply of manpower even if they aren’t too keen on the draft.  The South is simply going to run out of men at this rate.”

             
Robert frowned.  “Is there any good news?” 

             
Bueller thought for a minute.  “Winter is coming,” he finally announced cheerfully.  “That should stop the fighting for a while.  Give the South time to get ready for next spring.”

             
“Joy,” Robert muttered.

             
“You’ll have to fight when you get home, won’t you, old man?”

             
“Let’s not talk about it,” Robert said firmly.  “I’m going home to my wife.  That’s all I want to think about right now.  You just get me through that blockade, or I’ll be forced to swim it myself.”

             
“Aye, if you had been on some of the boats recently, that would be exactly what you would be doing, I’m afraid.”

             
“What do you mean?” Robert asked sharply.

             
“The Union navy is stepping it up to destroy the blockade runners.  It’s always been a risk, but now it’s getting downright dangerous out there.”

             
“You thinking about giving it up?”

             
“Me?”  Bueller laughed.  “Why, I live for this type of adventure.  There’s nothing I like better than outsmarting those Yankees.”

             
“I’ve heard there are other captains who don’t feel the same way,” Robert replied.  “Some of the commerce men seem to feel the same way.”

             
“They’re in it for money,” Bueller shrugged.  “I got enough money stashed away to last me the rest of my life.  Some of these fellows have been spending it as fast as they get it.   It’s getting to the point where the risk is greater than the reward.  We lost four ships just last week.”

             
“Four ships in one week!”  Robert exclaimed.  “What happened?”

             
“They just weren’t fast enough,” Bueller said laconically.  “A couple of them were sunk.  The other two were run aground in an attempt to save the cargo.  One was successful, the other’s supplies were commandeered by the Union navy.”  He scanned the horizon.  “The P
hantom
won’t have any trouble.”

             
“Here’s hoping,” Robert replied fervently. 

             
Bueller changed the subject.  “I’ve seen our Miss Paxton somewhere before.  What do you know about her?”

             
“Not much,” Robert admitted.  “We talked a lot on the way over from England but never discussed many personal things.”  He shrugged.  “She’s been in England a while.  Engaged to marry an English chap when she goes back.”  That was all he said.  He was reluctant to admit he felt he knew her from somewhere too.  She was obviously loyal to the South.  Her secrets were her own to keep.

             
“I know I’ve seen her,” Bueller repeated.  “Maybe it will come to me.”

Three days later, under the cover of night, the
Phantom
approached the shore of North Carolina.  Robert was up top with Bueller, both scanning the horizon for any sign of a Union blockade ship.   The moon, when it popped out from the thick clouds scudding across the sky, was bright but for the most part it stayed concealed.  A brisk breeze had kicked up high swells that exploded as the low-built blockade runner forged through them at top speed. 

             
“Not a Federal in sight,” Bueller said jubilantly.  “Chalk up another one for the
Phantom
.”

             
Robert breathed a sigh of relief, his pulse quickening as he realized how close he was to Carrie.  Just a few more minutes and he would be on shore.  A few more days and he would be home. 

             
Bueller suddenly cursed and craned forward.  “What the devil is that?” he muttered.  He leaned forward to bark instructions into his speak tube, but before he could get any words out of his mouth, the swiftly moving ship suddenly swung hard to the starboard.

             
“What the...?  Bueller cried. 

             
Seconds later Robert grabbed for the railing as the
Phantom
ran hard aground and shuddered to a stop.   “What happened?” he yelled, stunned at the sudden change of events.

             
“I’d give anything to have the answer to that one,” Bueller growled. 

             
Robert peered forward.  “Is that a Yankee boat in front of us?”

             
“That’s probably what the pilot thought,” Bueller snapped.  “Actually it’s one of our own boats.  It’s evidently in the same predicament we are now in.  Our pilot must have thought, in his pea brain that our only course was to run for shore.  He never even gave me a chance to give him orders.”  His voice spoke cold fury.  “I’ll have his head for this!”