Wedded to War (46 page)

Seven days of steady fighting. Seven.

Already the ground at Harrison’s Landing was littered with McClellan’s haggard, retreating army, their faces nearly black, their hair stiffened with dust and dirt, their bodies molded to their waists in Virginia clay.

A few wounded had straggled in today. But where were the rest? Part of Frederick Law Olmsted hoped they would be delivered to them at Harrison’s Landing at any moment, for if they were not here, they were surely dying alone in the swamps. On the other hand, what could be done for them? There were no hospital tents at all, and only three walled tents to shelter the wounded. The only building in the area—the
Harrison Home—had been appointed for hospital use by the new medical director, Jonathan Letterman, who had just arrived to take over for Tripler last week.
Nothing like jumping right in with both feet
, he thought, and trusted that Letterman would be more effective than Tripler had been.

Olmsted rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and picked up a pencil.

The next day, the trickle of wounded became a steady stream flowing into Harrison’s Landing. From morning until night, and all through the following day as well, the cold pewter sky hurled heavy rain down upon them in sheets, turning the dirt on their bodies into mud, matting their dusty hair to their heads. And still the hospital tents did not come, and thousands of sick lay down in the mud, again, racked by
dysentery, fever, malaria, and scurvy.

Eventually, cauldrons and beef stock came, and medical officers and cooks worked by relay day and night. Six thousand were sent away on transports, and nearly thirteen hundred sick remained. By Letterman’s estimate at least 20 percent of the army was sick.

If McClellan himself couldn’t see it, Olmsted could, plain as day. The Army of the Potomac was spent. Sending fresh reinforcements during the hottest part of the summer would only mean more sick on their hands. The Peninsula Campaign was finished, and so were the Commission’s hospital transport ships. It was only a matter of time before they retreated back to Washington in defeat.

McClellan, the savior of the North indeed.

I
f she had been the mother of the prodigal son of the New Testament, Caroline was sure she couldn’t have been any more relieved to have her child back home.

“Have some lemonade, dear.” Caroline brought Charlotte a glass and smiled at the amused look on her daughter’s face. It may have been the first time Caroline had ever been the one to serve refreshments. But Jane was gone now, and she just hadn’t been able to muster the energy required to search for new candidates for the position.
Advertising the job, requesting applications, speaking with references, conducting interviews …
Caroline sighed.
Exhausting process! Right now I just want to focus on Charlotte, and Alice and Jacob when I can.

“Mother, I’d like to talk to you about something.” Charlotte ran a fingertip around the rim of her glass before looking up. Her eyes were sincere, hopeful.
When was the last time she looked at me that way? As if
I had something she wanted and she thought I might actually give it to her?

“Yes?”

“It’s about Ruby and Aiden. I’d—like them to stay. You have more than enough room for them, you know you do.”

Caroline’s lips pressed into a thin line. If only Charlotte had asked for something more reasonable! “My help just left, Charlotte,” she began. “I understand you’re concerned about them, but I can barely keep this household going as it is without adding guests to it. I simply can’t take care of them all properly.”

“Please.” Charlotte grasped her hand. “They have no place else to go. They won’t be a bother, I promise. She’s used to living on little anyway, and she’s a very hard worker.”

“You ask for too much, daughter! You want them to be permanent guests? Or for me to adopt them as members of the family? I’m afraid it’s quite out of the question.”
Lord, I don’t want to always be at odds with her, but this is too much!

A muffled bang from the kitchen turned their heads.

“I thought you said the cook was ill today, Mother.”

“She is. She hasn’t been able to work since Wednesday.”
Then what on earth?

“Oh no—have you seen Dickens lately?” Charlotte asked, a tinge of apology in her tone. Caroline shook her head.

Charlotte was the first to reach the kitchen, and almost as soon as she poked her head in the door, she came right back out. “Look at this, Mother.”

Caroline pushed the swinging door open just enough to see Ruby standing at the sink, elbow deep in dishwater, scrubbing away at the stack of dishes left on the counter. Hearing the hinges squeak, Ruby tossed a glance over her shoulder.

“Oh, pardon me, missus. I hope you don’t mind. Aiden is sleeping and I’ve nothing else to do, at that. I’m happy to help.”

“Not at all,” Caroline answered, and stepped back into the hallway. Her mind whirred. She looked at Charlotte, whose eyes were suddenly
bright again, and knew the same idea had just occurred to her.

“Would it work?” she whispered to Charlotte.

“Perfectly.” She gave Caroline a smile that she thought had only been reserved for her father.

“What about references? Is she of a high moral character?”

Charlotte laid a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Come now. Isn’t my word enough for you? I have lived with her since last fall. I tell you she is above reproach.”

“But what about before you met her? Just how much do you know about this woman?”

“Enough. Please trust me, Mother. It would mean so much to me.” A shadow of doubt crossed Charlotte’s face as she waited for Caroline’s decision.

A few moments passed as Caroline stood in the doorway appraising Ruby before joining her at the sink. “My daughter here tells me you’re a hard worker.”

Ruby nodded, still scrubbing.

“Have you had any experience in a household? As a servant, I mean?”

“Aye, I have. And I can sew, too.”

Caroline nodded and looked over her shoulder at Charlotte once more. “Well, then.” She turned back to Rudy. “If you’re genuinely happy to help, how would you like to
be
the help?”

Ruby’s hands froze and she looked up, green eyes wide. “I beg your pardon, missus?”

“My help left and I’ve not even begun searching for a replacement. I need a new domestic. I have a cook, a gardener, and a coachman, but I desperately need a maid. Room and board included, with reasonable wages besides. What do you say?”

“But my baby—”

“Yes, I know. He stays with you, of course. It’s been awhile since we’ve had a baby around the house. A welcome distraction to the news of war. I wouldn’t exactly mind helping to watch him while you do your work, you know.”
Alice is in Fishkill, Charlotte is barren—I never thought
there would be another baby in this house again. But oh! how wonderful it would be!
Caroline’s face brightened with a hopeful smile.

Caroline glanced at Charlotte while they waited for Ruby’s response.

“Aye.” A smile warmed Ruby’s face. “I’d love to.”

Caleb Lansing lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. After virtually a year of sleeping on moldy cots or on the ground, the softness of his own bed still surprised him. He still couldn’t quite believe he had been sent home to recover when they needed his bed at Fortress Monroe.

Fortress Monroe.
He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still see himself lying there in the Chesapeake Hospital, waiting every day for mail call only to be sorely disappointed. It just wasn’t like Charlotte to not write back at all.
I poured out my heart to her! I said too much. Or too late. Wherever she is right now, her heart belongs to Phineas.

In the end, it was the only explanation that made sense, and he went about the painful work of removing her, piece by piece, from both his memory and his hoped-for future. She was so far embedded into the fiber of his being, he could never pull her out. Instead, he decided, he’d just bury her. Very, very soon, he would be well enough to work again. But it had to be all-consuming. The simple ailments of peaceful New Haven wouldn’t require enough of him. It was time to return to war.

Charlotte took a deep breath as she stepped out of her dressing room wearing her wedding gown for the first time. In just two more months, she would be Mrs. Phineas Hastings.

Caleb had never responded to her letter, and his name had not appeared on any casualty list in the papers. He had been appalled at her role in Marty’s death and wanted nothing to do with her anymore, or he was far too engrossed in his medical duties to respond to a letter. Neither possibility should surprise her.

“What do you think?” Charlotte asked, turning to give her audience the full effect. The off-the-shoulder dress was made of white silk and overlaid with Brussells lace trimmed with satin ribbon and silk flowers. Her veil, held in place by a circlet of white silk roses and orange blossoms, almost reached the floor.

Caroline and Alice, who was visiting with Jacob from Fishkill this week, gushed with approval. Ruby was there, too, dusting the bedroom furniture, but said nothing.

“Ruby?” Charlotte tried to draw her out. “You’re a seamstress—how do you think they’ve done?”

Ruby just shook her head, her attention focused on Aiden playing with a rattle on a blanket on the floor. She tickled his feet as if she were indifferent to Charlotte’s question but pink blotches on her neck betrayed her. Her lips began to tremble.

“Why, Ruby, what’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, worry threading her tone.