Wedded to War (36 page)

“Louisa?” The word croaked out.

“I am undone, Caroline.” Her face was chalk white, her eyes rimmed with red. Her face had aged twenty years since Caroline last saw her, a month ago.

Caroline felt sick as she led Josephine to the settee. She braced herself for a story she was sure she didn’t want to hear.

“It was bound to happen, you know. I should have known.” Josephine folded and unfolded a lace-trimmed handkerchief, over and over, as she spoke. “When one exposes oneself to contagious disease, one cannot stay healthy forever.” Fold, unfold. Fold, unfold. “It must have come on suddenly, she didn’t even tell me she was sick. She just stopped writing. I didn’t know she was sick, Caroline. I tell you I didn’t know!”

Caroline’s face was wet with tears, her heart galloping like a runaway horse.

“She died alone.” Despair strangled Josephine’s voice. “I didn’t know. She died without her mother—” Josephine covered her face with her crumpled handkerchief and wept. “Do you know what it’s like to have your very heart die—without you even there?”

Goosebumps covered Caroline’s skin in a wave from head to toe. She knew.

“I should never have let her go, Caroline. We were wrong to let our daughters go to war.” Josephine gripped Caroline’s hands in a white-knuckled grasp. “Even if you have to drag her home yourself, if she hates you for the rest of your life
, go
! Get your daughter back. I can never get mine.”

After Josephine took her leave, Caroline stood nearly paralyzed in the parlor.

No. No. No. No.
The word pounded in her mind with every frantic beat of her heart. She wrung her hands.
Lord! Don’t take my girls!

Dickens emerged from behind the draperies and began grooming himself on the French rug right in front of her. How she had always hated that cat. It reminded her of how Charles had always indulged
Charlotte’s every whim, even against Caroline’s wishes. Charlotte had always been her daddy’s girl. He adored her.

Far more than he adored his wife. And Caroline resented it. She almost resented Charlotte.

Charlotte had been the one at Charles’s side when he died. It should have been his wife. The fact that she had not been there to say goodbye haunted her every day of her life. It was why she still wore black.

She would not wear black for a daughter, too.

Dickens paused and stared up at Caroline with yellow-green eyes, as if he could read her mind.

“Well, Dickens,” she said, heart still in her throat. “How would you like your mistress back?”

Alice would never return to New York as long as Jacob was in Washington, but Charlotte—Charlotte had to come home. She had to go and get her.

“Jane,” she called weakly, walking down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Why mum!” Jane’s eyes widened at the sight of Caroline’s tear-stained face. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I need to go to Washington, right away,” she said. “Please pack my things.”

Jane blinked. “By yourself?”

“Don’t be silly, child, of course not. Please send word to Phineas Hastings that I’ll need him to escort me. Tell him I need him to get us two tickets on the next train out. It’s time to bring Charlotte home.”

A
lice.” Charlotte nudged her sister, barely visible in the blue shade of night. “You awake?”

“I guess so. Now. What is it?”

“You remember that Miss Dix once accused me of wanting to nurse because I was running away from something?”

“Mmm hmmm.”

“She was right. I was running from idleness. Maybe from being stifled by Mother. Nursing was just a convenient opportunity that fit the bill. It seemed like a good way to prove that I could be useful.”

“OK. You’re certainly proving that much,” Alice mumbled. “What will you do when the war is over?”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about. Mother and Phineas are hoping this is just a stage I’m going through. That I’ll give it up after I’ve tried it on for size, the way I gave up clarinet lessons when I was a child.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m getting there.” Charlotte sat up on her cot. “I won’t want to stop nursing when the war is over.”

“What?” Fully awake now, Alice turned over and looked at her sister’s silhouette. “How would you even be able to nurse anymore when the need is gone?”

“No more war may mean no more sick and wounded soldiers by the tens of thousands. It may mean no more national emergency. But there will always be sick people in need of care, no matter the cause.”

“They’ll never let women keep nursing after the war, Charlotte. This is a sharply peculiar situation.”

“We never thought they’d let us nurse here either.”

“If you haven’t noticed, it hasn’t been going very well.”

“But it’s getting better.” Charlotte tucked her knees under her chin and gazed out the window at the empty street in front of Willard’s. Gas lights spilled pools of yellow on the ground. “Just because something is difficult doesn’t mean it isn’t worth doing. I want to be a nurse. And not just for the war.”

“You can’t be serious.” Now Alice was sitting ramrod straight up on her cot, as well.

“Nursing can be a science, not a hobby. It can be a real profession, as doctoring is a profession. It doesn’t have to be just charity work. You know how so many people still believe women are limited in our intellect?”

“Yes, of course, I know. Idiotic.”

“Of course it’s completely false. But what have women done to prove it wrong?”

“Charlotte, you can’t change how the world views women all by yourself.”

“This isn’t just about proving those old beliefs wrong. I must admit I have a purely selfish motive, as well.”

“Such as?”

“I like myself better when I’m helping patients. When my world
revolves around myself, it is very small indeed. Nursing is fulfilling to me, the way taking care of Jacob is fulfilling for you.”

“Aha! Then nursing is just a substitute until you marry and have your own husband and household to care for,” said Alice with a yawn, sliding back under her covers.

“I don’t think so,” Charlotte whispered into the darkness. “Must I really choose to either be married and limit my world to the realm of the home, or to be useful beyond it and remain alone?”

But Alice had already fallen back to sleep. No matter. She would not be able to answer these questions anyway.

Alice’s knitting needles clicked together in steady rhythm while Charlotte tried to focus on the letter she was composing to her mother. It was the same argument as ever.
We haven’t yet given up hope. We may still be able to follow the Army of the Potomac. I’m sure Jacob will see the sense in having us within an hour’s ride of any battlefield, where we can do some good …

A knock on the door. Merciful distraction.

Charlotte opened the door to find Frederick Knapp, Mr. Olmsted’s right-hand man with the Sanitary Commission, looking jittery and preoccupied, as usual.

“Mr. Knapp! What brings you here so early on a Saturday morning?” she said, welcoming him in the room.

“Precisely! Big news, ladies. We’re on the move.”

“Pardon me? We who?”

“The Sanitary Commission. With the Army of the Potomac. The Peninsula Campaign.”

“Have a seat, Mr. Knapp. Start over, if you please.”

“What has our Sanitary Commission been about, if not for making
up for the inefficiency of the government in caring for its soldiers? At least this time, the new Surgeon General is in agreement. That William Hammond, he’s going to make a name for himself, I predict. I also predict he’ll have a battle with the government on his hands for every change he wants to make, regardless of how right he is.”

“Yes, I’m afraid the Commission was born at odds with the government and will remain at odds for as long as they refuse to admit they need our help,” said Charlotte.

“Forgive me,” Alice cut in, “but what does this have to do, specifically, with your current errand?”

“Right.” Mr. Knapp wiped a handkerchief over his shiny bald head and dipped his brown beard to his chest as he collected his thoughts. “For all these months we have had to plan for this Peninsula Campaign—you’ve heard of it?”

“Not much,” said Alice.

“Right. Briefly then. Richmond, the Confederate capital, is one hundred miles south of us, but instead of invading from the north, over easy terrain, McClellan’s plan is to send troops down to Fort Monroe, which is—” He squinted at the ceiling. “It’s about eighty miles southeast of Richmond in Hampton, Virginia, but still under Union control. It’s at the tip of the Virginia Peninsula. From there, he plans to send troops up the James and York Rivers that border the peninsula until they can attack Richmond. ‘Peninsula Campaign.’ OK? Supposedly they won’t expect it. But can you guess the problem?”

He barely paused for breath before plunging ahead. “Those big rivers become small, winding creeks through dense swampland the closer they get to Richmond. The government has made no thought or provision for how to evacuate the sick and wounded from these marshes. None whatsoever,” he explained with disbelief. “Medical Director Tripler says he has only received 177 of the 250 ambulances he asked for, and most of those are the bone-rattling two-wheeled contraptions that will half-kill a man by the time he reaches his destination …
if
he ever does. That mud is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Horses sink
up to their shoulders in it. If they want to cross it, they have to first lay down lumber. No small task.”

“What do you propose to do about it?” Alice’s needles were silent now in her lap.

“Olmsted not only proposed a plan, he got it accepted, too. We are fitting up old steamships, given to us by the Quartermaster Department, to be used as hospital transport ships. If we can’t get the men to us, we’re taking the hospital to the men, at least as far as we can go by water. We’ve just today been given the first ship—
the Daniel Webster
—for the purpose.”

Charlotte glanced at Alice, then back at Mr. Knapp. “You’ll need nurses.”

“Precisely. A few. Perhaps. That is, there is the possibility, so Mr. Olmsted thought I should see how you feel about the matter. If we can make the arrangements suitable for ladies to be on board, how should you view it? Would you like to come aboard?”

“Yes!” the sisters said in unison. Looking at Ruby, Charlotte added, “You’ll need a laundress.”

“Can’t do laundry on the ship. Besides, we have contrabands for menial jobs like that,” Knapp said.

“What’s a contraband?” asked Ruby.

“A contraband is a slave who ran away from his or her previous owner, came to the North, and is now considered contraband of war. Our property.” He cringed as he said it. “Meaning, we are under no obligation to return them, and they can work for the Union cause if they so desire. Many of them do.”

“I’m used to menial work,” said Ruby. “Been doing it all my life, I have.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet.” Knapp wiped his head again. “This project is in utter confusion at the moment, the ship is filthy, and we aim to leave tomorrow. Battle is on the horizon, you see, and lives depend upon us being there when it breaks out. If I have only succeeded in getting your hopes up for nothing, I do apologize. If I discover that you can be useful, I’ll send for you.” Knapp touched his hat and took his leave.

Charlotte had never been very good at waiting. Today, she was an utter failure at it.
The opportunity to nurse aboard a hospital transport ship was the perfect solution and a total surprise!
God Himself must have arranged this for them. It would be too cruel if, now that the offer had been half-extended, it should be taken away just as quickly. Charlotte had planned to get out and enjoy the spring weather today, but refused to leave her room for fear of missing any message from Olmsted or Knapp.

Three hours later, the sun was high in the sky, and Mr. Olmsted himself appeared at the door, rumpled as usual, but eyes bright with a plan.

“Mr. Olmsted! Should we pack our things?” Charlotte fairly pounced on the small man as soon as she opened the door to him.

“Not just yet, Miss Waverly. I’ve just been to the ship and it is remarkably dirty. I can’t let you on it.”

“Dirty? Mr. Olmsted, I’ve emptied chamber pots. I’ve scrubbed blood and feces out of linens. I’ve mixed and thrown disinfectants into trenches whose stench would make your eyes water. And now you’re telling me I can’t board a ship because it’s dirty? Fiddlesticks!”

“I shoulder the responsibility for the ladies working for the Sanitary Commission, you know.”

“And the Commission has a responsibility to the army of sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers the public has sent to war,” Charlotte shot back.

“I have a band of male nurses, doctors, medical students, and contrabands all lined up to go. I’m not convinced I need you ladies, too.”