The Quaker and the Rebel (39 page)

“Why would you be surprised?” Emily’s voice sounded foreign to her ears. “As of yet, I haven’t been fired by Mrs. Bennington.”

Alexander turned his back to her and stared out the window onto the street below. “Yes, but isn’t your work here done? Mr. Lincoln’s proclamation took effect last January, freeing all those held in bondage in those states in rebellion. Any who hadn’t already run away surely left then. Your railroad no longer has much purpose.” He faced her with unreadable eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Hunt. The president’s edict gave me great joy.”

“Isn’t that what all of this was about?” His hand flourished around the once-elegant parlor. “Isn’t that what
we
were about? You came into our home under my aunt’s employ to free our slaves from bondage.”

“Well, yes…in the beginning. I came under false pretenses and deceived the Benningtons and your parents.” Her mouth and throat suddenly went dry.

Alexander withdrew a packet of papers from his frock coat and tossed them down on the table between them. “I had these drawn up
but waited too long. I’d wished to provide them adequate money for travel, but there had never seemed to be enough.”

Unsteadily, she rose and walked to the table, filled with an unexplainable sense of dread. Loosening the ribbon, Emily began to read the first sheet of dozens. “By the powers vested in me by the Commonwealth of Virginia, I hereby grant the complete and irrevocable manumission of the following named slave. From this day forward and for all time, he shall be free, from any and all….” Her voice trailed off as she gaped at him. “Manumission papers. You freed the Hunt Farm slaves?”

“It took a while for my father to agree with me. This should have been done years ago.” He walked back to the window, where the rain beat steadily against the pane. “If you only had asked me, I would have given you this. And anything else you wanted in this world.”

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to silence her. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I have something else for you.” Alexander withdrew a thin gold chain and burnished locket from his pocket. It swung for a moment before her eyes like a hypnotist’s pendulum.

“My locket!” Emily tried to snatch it from his fingers. “Wherever did you find it?”

“On the carpet of my room. You must have dropped it when you came snooping. Was this your talisman, your motivation for your underground work? Allowing you to say words you didn’t mean?”

“Of course not! Why would you say such a thing?” With her hands on her hips, she faced him defiantly.

He opened the locket to reveal a faded daguerreotype of Matthew, her former fiancé. She gaped at a young face she could barely remember. Her heart clenched in her chest, not for Matthew but for the implication.

“Then why did you wear it when you came to my room to find me?”

“It was a gift from my parents at my graduation from Miss Turner’s School for Ladies. I wore it to remember them, not Matthew. I hadn’t opened it since leaving Bennington Island.” She sounded like a weak and helpless child.

“Didn’t you serve your abolitionist cause in Matthew’s memory? Didn’t you come south determined to let nothing or no one stand in your path?”

Tears of shame filled her eyes, but she refused to tell more lies. “Yes, that was true when I arrived.” She joined him at the window. Below on the street, a farm wagon splashed a hapless pedestrian from head to toe. She felt every bit as wretched. “But after I met you, the locket became nothing more than a gift from my parents.” Sounding shaky and uncertain, she forced herself to continue. “I regret deceiving your family in light of their kindness to me. More than that, I regret the lies I told you. But on my heart, I pledge that I care for you. Despite how our situation started, I love you, Alexander.” Emily exhaled with relief. She had finally voiced the words she’d withheld too long. The man she wanted stood before her in all his glory. She yearned to caress his stubbly chin, run her fingers through his hair, and kiss away the fatigue around his eyes.

But someone pounding on the front door just then was making enough noise to wake the dead.

“Sakes alive! Who would be calling on Aunt Harriet at the supper hour?” Alexander strode across the room toward the commotion in the hallway.

Emily froze in place, partially obscured by the heavy drape, as an ominous foreboding tightened her gut. She jumped when the parlor door flew open, thudding against the stopper. Three uniformed soldiers marched in boldly, followed by a distraught Mrs. Hunt and a nearly prostrate Mrs. Cabot.

A young officer, dressed in Confederate gray, scanned the room until his gaze found her. “Miss Emily Harrison?” he asked coldly. He didn’t immediately notice Alexander partially hidden by the door.

Emily straightened her back with every ounce of dignity she could muster. “Yes, sir. I am she.”

“What is this about, Lieutenant?” In three strides, Alexander stepped between Emily and the soldiers.

“Sir!” The lieutenant snapped a quick salute to a superior officer.
The other two followed suit. “I’m Lieutenant Rose of the Richmond Home Guard. I apologize for intruding on your household this afternoon. I have orders signed by the Secretary of War himself, sir.” He handed Alexander a rolled parchment with Secretary Seddon’s stamp emblazoned in the wax.

Mrs. Hunt and Mrs. Cabot, flanking the other two soldiers, offered indignant protests. Alexander broke the seal and began to read the document. Margaret, Annie, and Lila slipped into the room, huddling against the wall like abandoned kittens.

Without waiting for the colonel to peruse the document, Lieutenant Rose stepped around him. “Miss Emily Harrison, you have been charged with espionage and treason against the Confederate States of America. We are placing you under arrest.”

“You most decidedly are not!” Alexander drew his sword in one fluid motion.

But the lieutenant had anticipated such a response. Pulling a long-barreled Colt from his holster, he aimed it slightly to the left. “I deeply regret this, Colonel Hunt, in light of your extraordinary service to the Cause, but I must ask you to step back, sir.” He enunciated each word so no one would misunderstand his intentions. “I’m sure you have no wish to further distress your family.” With a gloved hand, he gestured at the frightened faces of the five waiting women.

Alexander didn’t flinch. “Then I suggest you leave at once. Miss Harrison will remain with me.”

Lieutenant Rose pointed the gun barrel at the center of his chest. “You may take the matter up with Secretary Seddon, sir, but I intend to follow my orders.”

A horrible silence filled the room as Margaret Bennington circled around to join Emily’s side. “There must be some mistake. I can vouch that this woman would never do such things.” She bravely slipped her arm around Emily’s waist. Against the wall, Annie began to cry.

“There is no mistake, miss.” The lieutenant offered a slight bow without lowering his weapon. “Your governess is responsible for exposing the Gray Wraith and curtailing his vital work. Unfortunately,
Colonel Hunt has fallen under a siren’s spell. Prison will be too good for this Delilah.” The two soldiers trained their guns on Alexander as the lieutenant approached Emily. “Miss Harrison, if you give your word to accompany us without incident, we’ll forgo the use of restraints.” He glared at her with ill-concealed contempt.

“You have my word.” On rubbery legs Emily walked to the door with Lieutenant Rose at her side.

“I demand to know where you are taking her.” Sheathing his sword, Alexander advanced to follow.

The stockier of the two guards placed his gun barrel beneath the colonel’s jaw. “You and me will wait right here until their carriage leaves, but it’s no secret as to where she’s going. She’s on her way to Castle Thunder—where all Union spies hang.”

N
INETEEN

I
will ask you again, Miss Harrison. How did you come by the information that the Wraith would be at the home of his uncle in Middleburg?”

The thin provost marshal stood so close that Emily could clearly see tobacco stains on his teeth and smell the pomade in his hair. She leaned as far back as the chair would allow. “I told you, sir. I came by the information in an innocent fashion and not from collusion with the Union government.” Emily spoke in a dry, raspy voice.

The last few days were starting to take their toll. She had been taken by carriage from Mrs. Cabot’s to a tobacco warehouse, presently being utilized as a jail for Confederate soldiers sentenced by a military tribunal. Castle Thunder also held Rebel deserters and the accused enemies of the Confederacy, including spies. Rarely did they incarcerate Union soldiers; they sent those men to the notorious Libby Prison. Guards had locked her in a small, austere room, where the smell of curing tobacco still permeated the air. Her cell contained a cot with a soiled mattress, a washstand with pitcher and basin, and one chair. Emily had thrown the threadbare blanket into a corner for fear of crawly things wishing a change of residence.

The provost marshal splayed his hands across the table. “You would have us believe such sensitive information is discussed at teas and afternoon social calls?” His derision anticipated no response. “Few in our government knew the Wraith’s identity for his protection, yet a Yankee governess was privy to it?”

“I learned of his identity accidentally while a houseguest at Hunt Farms, sir. I’m employed as a companion to Mrs. Porter Bennington, Mrs. James Hunt’s sister.”

“Yes, I see that.” He shuffled through papers to locate an earlier report. “You were a governess to the Benningtons of Martinsburg. Is that correct?”

She nodded in reply.

“Please speak up, Miss Harrison.” Following her affirmative murmur, he continued. “The Benningtons sent their daughters away to be schooled in Europe after they moved from Parkersburg. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes, sir, that is true,” she said with growing trepidation.

“Why then would you choose to relocate deep in the Confederacy when your services were no longer necessary? Your pupils weren’t even in the country. Why not return to your home in Ohio, where people shared your political sentiments?” With a smug smile, the young man tossed the papers down on the table.

Emily pressed her fingertips to her temples to stem a throbbing headache. How could she explain why she had accompanied the Benningtons without revealing her work on the Underground Railroad? Helping slaves reach freedom was considered theft in Virginia, also a serious crime. She couldn’t expose the conductors who provided food and shelter to those making their way north. “I had grown fond of Mrs. Bennington and appreciated her offer to remain part of her household.”

“After so brief a period of employment? Didn’t you miss your own family?”

“I had no family left in Ohio, sir. My parents were killed in an accident and our farm sold to satisfy a mortgage. Dr. Bennington and his wife provided the only home available to me.” Emily hoped her sorrowful plight might arouse sympathy among the officers.

The provost marshal snorted with contempt. “When you were hired, were you not engaged to be married to a Union soldier?”

“Yes, sir, that is correct.”

“What happened to that soldier?”

A lump rose in her throat. “Matthew was killed at Bull Run. I believe you refer to the battle as First Manassas.”

The man’s moustache twitched. “I can imagine only one reason for a Yankee to move to the heart of Dixie while mourning the loss of her betrothed—to avenge his death. You ingratiated yourself into the
Bennington and Hunt households and took advantage of their kindness. Because you weren’t teaching anyone, you spent your time keeping tabs on the Army of Northern Virginia and then reported troop movements back to the Union camp at Winchester.” He glared at her with cold hatred.

“I did no such thing, sir. I will swear to that fact.” Her voice cracked as her nerves frayed.

“Miss Harrison, we have testimony from a reliable source who saw you and your maid in Berryville several times, not five miles from Union headquarters. Do you care to explain your mysterious nighttime outings?”

Emily hung her head. Nathan Smith. He was the only one who could have made such a report. Memories of the captain’s flushed face and cold eyes flooded back. He was one enemy she wished she never had made. “No, sir,” she said in a barely audible voice.

“I will ask you again. After you learned that Alexander Hunt was the Gray Wraith, how did you find out he and his men would be at his uncle’s house that night?”

Fear gnawed at her empty belly. They had given her little to eat and only weak tea to drink since her arrest. Remembering the abrasive Thompsons of Upperville, Emily wished she’d never laid eyes on them, but she wouldn’t expose their work. It could unravel the labyrinth of homes, causing untold damage to those involved.

“I cannot say, sir.”

Looking thunderous, the young man leaned across the table. “Who did you give this information to at the Union camp? Who was the Yankee you betrayed Colonel Hunt to?”

She stared into his dark eyes with feigned bravado. “I took information to no one. I rode to Middleburg solely to warn Alexander of the trap.”

As soon as the words were out she realized her mistake. She’d just admitted knowing about the trap in addition to his identity. Her churning stomach took another nasty tumble.