Beloved Enemy (15 page)

“Payton is Mother's great-nephew and my second cousin. She thinks the world of him and his family. Mother is mad about pedigree. Since he's already a relative, I am doubly bound to honor this match.” She shrugged. “Who knows? Payton might have turned into a human being since we last met. In any event, I must make the best of it.”

Rob grimaced. “You could run away. Come to Washington and I will find you a respectable place to stay—”

“I can't.” Julia cut him off before his tempting suggestion took root in her. “I cannot betray my family, and I will not betray Virginia.” Her shoulders slumped. “But I do appreciate your concern, Rob.” She turned away from him. “Thank you for this most enjoyable evening. I shall cherish it in my heart forever. If only the war had not happened! If only the Northerners had allowed us to go our own way, you and I might have had a different ending to this friendship.”

“Julia, I—”

She shook her head. She wanted to finish what she had to tell him before her emotions overwhelmed her. “I must go now before I am missed. Hettie is waiting for me in the pantry.”

He turned her face toward him. “Then before you leave, please give me your promise. Please meet me here tomorrow night, at ten o'clock? I want to give you one last gift—a wedding present to remember me by. Will you?”

He sounded very desperate. Julia hung her head as if she carried a huge load on her shoulders. “I will be formally pledged to Payton by then,” she whispered.

He stroked her cheek, his touch caressing and very tempting. She lowered her lids.

“But not yet married,” he murmured. “It is no crime to say one last goodbye to a gentleman before you make your nuptial vows. Please, this is
very
important to me. Promise me that you will.”

“I will try.” Opening her eyes, she stepped back from him. “I will try,” she repeated. She had to get away from him before her tears overtook her. “Good night, good night,” she said, backing away with each word. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

“That I could say good night till it be morrow,” Rob finished Shakespeare's line for her in a hollow voice.

Julia spun away and ran to the steps. She disappeared inside the house without a backward glance. Once in her bed, she vented her sorrow deep into her pillow.

She would never forget this night. It was a comfort to know that there was one man who loved her, even if he was a Yankee. She drifted into a troubled sleep.

W
hen Julia disappeared inside the Chandler house, Rob felt as if a light had been snuffed out in his soul. Closing the garden gate behind him, he shoved his good hand deep into his pocket and headed back to the City Hotel where he had engaged a bed for the night. His boot heels tapped out a mournful staccato on the icy paving stones, “tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, by first light, he would return to Washington and buy that gilt-edged edition of Shakespeare from the hotel's stationers. Tomorrow would be his last day of freedom for a long time to come. Tomorrow he would pay his lodging bill at Ebbitt's and leave his few possessions in the safekeeping of his landlord. Tomorrow, he would give Colonel Lawrence the letters he had written for his parents and Julia, to be posted in case of his death. Tomorrow he would not think of death.

Tomorrow he would throw himself headlong into the most exciting adventure of his life. Tomorrow night, he would see Julia one last time as he betrayed her gentle trust. He would hate himself for doing it. Perhaps, in the years beyond tomorrow night, she would finally understand and forgive him.

In the City Hotel, war's necessity forced him to share his room with several other snoring occupants. Rob tried to settle himself into a state of repose. Tonight would be his last time in a comfortable bed for many months. He knew his body needed rest for tomorrow's events, but sleep eluded him. As the little city's church bells tolled away the early morning hours, Rob stared out the small window while thoughts of his mission unwound like a spool of thread. Every detail that he had memorized over the past two days returned in vivid clarity.

In his mind's eye, he saw the floor plans of Libby Prison that the clever Lizzie Van Lew had pieced together from her many visits to that dreadful place. The map of Richmond's city streets scrolled through his brain. The back roads that paralleled the James River down to Williamsburg and Newport News marched in cadence with his heartbeat. Once Rob got the escapees beyond Williamsburg, they would be safe behind their own lines. Food and medical attention awaited them at City Point.

Once at City Point…Rob must get them there…as many men as possible…safely to City Point.

Julia! Her beautiful face replaced Rob's nightmares of Confederate gunfire, rats crawling over him in a prison cell, thin gruel to eat instead of the creamy oyster stew that he had enjoyed earlier that evening. Julia's sad eyes reproached him in silence. He didn't want to hear her musical voice ask him why he had betrayed her trust for her enemy's benefit. He expected that his conscience would ask him that question a million times over during his incarceration in Libby.

After the war—it was bound to end soon—Rob promised himself to seek her out. By then she would be Mrs. Payton Norwood. He would knock at the Chandler front door like a proper caller instead of a thief in the night and
ask for her address. He would make his apologies to her parents for the havoc that his capture in their garden had brought upon the family. He would make amends as best he could—after the war.

Sometime after the four-o'clock bells struck, he drifted into oblivion.

 

As expected, Payton Norwood arrived late in the afternoon, and was greeted by his great aunt with cries of joy. Clara ordered Julia to dress in her prettiest gown and to look cheerful.

“Poor you,” commiserated Carolyn as she watched Julia unwind a corkscrew curl from the heated tongs. “I peeked over the balustrade when he came in. He still laughs like a mule.”

Julia made a face in the mirror. “Could you see what he looked like?”

Carolyn shook her head. “His back was to me and I didn't want Mother to catch me spying. He's taller, but I suppose that is only natural. Papa didn't appear too pleased to see him.”

Julia felt a small twinge of hope. Perhaps her father could convince Mother to change her mind and send Payton back to his plantation without her. Julia stood up and shook out her silken skirts and petticoats. The only thing that was going to keep her sane through the next few hours was the knowledge that she would see Rob one more time. She glanced at the little brass-and-marble clock on their mantelpiece. Six hours until ten o'clock.

“Shall we go down and meet my future?” she asked Carolyn with a false brightness.

Her sister gave her another pitying look. “Poor you,” she repeated. “At least, Hettie has fixed up a nice platter of roast beef for supper.”

The past four years had done nothing to improve Payton except to fatten his body and enlarge his faults. Though his face might have been called fair, it bore an inherent softness that his little, well-groomed mustache could not conceal. The set of his bare chin suggested a stubborn streak. His thick lips curled up at one corner, as if he were always on the verge of a sneer.

When he bowed over Julia's hand in greeting, his fleshy expression melted into a slimy smile. “You make the room feel delicious,” he oozed. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on the back of her skirt.

Clara Chandler spent the next horrible hour oohing and aahing over every little remark that Payton made—and he made a great many remarks, chiefly about himself. As he spoke, he held his head high with the arrogant pride of a man who thinks he knows how worthy he is of other people's envy. He had the annoying habit of drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair if the conversation happened to stray away from the topic of himself. His glances at Julia were positively condescending, as if he expected her to be adoringly grateful for receiving his hand in matrimony. Her skin crawled.

How could she possibly let him touch her? Kiss her? Rob's sweet kisses still lingered on her lips. Oh heaven, deliver her from this pompous fool!

Like his ego, Payton's vanity proved to be monumental. His dark, curly hair had been overly tamed with pomade. Julia noticed that he could not pass a looking glass without pausing a moment to admire his reflection. Upon her arrival in the parlor, he had presented Julia with a box of crystallized fruit, most of which he proceeded to eat himself over the course of the next two hours. Julia wondered if he would have any appetite left for supper, but all of Payton's appetites seemed to be bottomless.

He talked nonstop before, during and after that endless meal. Worse, he did not bother to close his mouth when he chewed his food. Julia barely touched her supper and, by the time the family had repaired to the parlor for coffee, she could not remember what she had eaten. Payton's high-pitched voice droned on and on into the evening. Julia itched to cover her ears and scream.

As the hours wore on, Payton's attention toward her turned from lovesick to lustful. And his bullying behavior that Julia recalled from their childhood had not disappeared. When he “assisted” her to the piano to play after-dinner music, his fingers bit deep into her elbow to assert his mastery. While he turned the pages of her music, he put his heavy hand on her shoulder with an air of possession. His mere touch left Julia feeling violated, ravished, soiled. Pleading a headache, she fled upstairs by nine. Carolyn followed after her.

“I loathe him,” Julia cried in a choked voice as soon as Carolyn shut the door of their room. “I'd sooner marry a rattlesnake!” She threw herself across the bed.

Carolyn sat down beside her. “Payton is a wretched piece of work,” she agreed in a gentle voice, “but I don't see how you can escape this marriage. Mother will not listen to a contrary word about him. She has set her mind on it, and you know nothing will change her once she gets an idea stuck in her head—not even Papa.”

Closing her eyes, Julia wished she could shut Payton out of her life just as effectively. At least, she still had tonight. She recalled the pleasure of Rob's arm around her waist and his warm kisses on her lips. Julia sat up slowly as a plan began to form in her head. She glanced up at the little timepiece on the mantel. Ten past nine.

Julia watched as her sister undressed for bed. Could she count on Carolyn in her most desperate hour of need?

Carolyn pulled the rose-colored ribbon out of her hair. She stared back at her sister's reflection in the looking glass. “My, my, my,” she mused. “You are all pink in the face. Now why is that?”

Julia took the brush from Carolyn's hand and began to pull its bristles through her sister's blond locks. “Payton's company has chased all such pleasure from my soul.”

Carolyn's blue eyes took on a knowing glint. “Is that why you are blushing? Come on, Julia, tell all. I know there is something. What is it?” Her voice dropped lower. “Are you planning to run away?”

Julia paused, midstroke. “Not exactly.” Did she dare to take this course?

Carolyn turned to face her. “What is it?”

Julia stared out the window at the garden below. “We live in a world of reality—not fairy tales. Carolyn, I need your help tonight. Please say you will.”

As she spoke, she saw the bushes shake in the far corner of the garden. It looked as if her Prince Charming had arrived a little early.

 

Lieutenant Jamie Adamson of the Confederate States Army positioned his rangers around the perimeter of the Chandlers' garden enclosure. He took a moment to scan the height of the brick wall that encompassed the three open sides. Seven feet and a bit, he judged. Too high for a man to jump over, but fear of capture sometimes gave one surprising strength. He motioned two of his troopers to station themselves in the rear alleyway in case this Yankee managed to elude his snare. Adamson's commander, Colonel Mosby, would not be pleased if such a prize captive slipped through their clutches.

Hunkering down in the mud behind a particularly thorny rosebush, the young lieutenant felt like a fool. It went
against the grain to spy on another man's private business with a young lady, but the war had turned all civilized behavior topsy-turvy. He fervently hoped that the information Mosby had received yesterday evening about this staff member of Grant's was correct.

Adamson also prayed that the Chandlers did not own a zealous watchdog with sharp teeth. While keeping an eye on the wrought-iron gate for the predicted arrival of Major Robert Montgomery, he spent this tense time composing what he was going to say to the Yankee, to the young lady, and most particularly to her family, since Adamson had the unhappy feeling that the good doctor and his wife were in for a very unpleasant surprise when they learned of their daughter's nighttime visitor. He much preferred to fight Yankees in the daylight, far away from the presence of hysterical women.

Just then, the bells of Christ Church struck ten o'clock.

“E
ight…nine…ten!” After counting the final stroke of the grandfather clock in the hall, Julia wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. “I'm going, Carolyn. Remember your promise.”

Her sister glared at her. “But he's a Yankee,” she whispered with fierce opposition. “How can you even think of lowering yourself? Your reputation will be completely ruined.”

Julia gave her sister a sympathetic look. “I know. That is the whole point. If Payton sees me in Rob's arms, he'll have to break our engagement. Family honor will demand it.”

“You'll be sent away forever,” Carolyn muttered from the depths of their four-poster bed.

“I expect so, but it would be a better fate than marriage to Payton.” Julia pulled up the collar of her cloak. “Please don't fail me, Carolyn. As soon as you see us kissing, wake the household, especially Payton.”

“Humph,” Carolyn snorted. “I don't see how you can bring yourself to kiss that boy.”

“Believe me, I would rather kiss Rob for a month of Sundays than kiss Payton once.” Julia smiled to herself.
“And Rob's not a boy, Carolyn. He's a man.” She picked up the lantern. “One last thing, please don't let Papa shoot him.”

Carolyn snorted in reply.

Julia held the lantern close to her as she tiptoed down the dark hall. As she passed the guest room, she saw a dim glow under the door. Payton was still up. Good! Carolyn wouldn't have to wake him. Julia prayed that her skirts would not rustle, and that she would not step on one of the old squeaky floorboards. She didn't want to meet Payton now—not before she kept her assignation with Rob. Afterward, he would not want to see her. She smiled to herself.

Julia swept through the silent pantry and past the larder. Spying her father's squirrel gun on the rack by the back door, she took a few extra minutes to unload it. The round lead bullet dropped to the floor with a loud clatter and rolled away into a dark corner. Julia froze, and cocked her ear toward the floor above her. No sound. With a sigh of relief, she replaced the gun in its rack, then went outside.

The blast of cold night air extinguished her light. She picked her way carefully down the frosty steps covered with straw. Standing on the path, she glanced about the garden. It seemed empty, yet she sensed a presence, almost as if the bushes breathed. She scurried along the flagstones toward the magnolia tree.

“Rob?” she whispered as she ducked under its glossy leaves. He wasn't there.

She was sure she saw someone outside an hour ago, and looked about. Only cold starlight winked at her through the branches. Hunching her shoulders against the cold, her unease grew as she strained to hear the indefinable whisperings that seemed to waft in the air around her. The short
hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A premonition of fear seized her. What if he didn't come tonight?

Just then, she heard the unmistakable click of the gate's latch. Julia released her pent-up breath. In a few more minutes, she would be free of Payton Norwood forever.

 

Rob paused before shutting the gate behind him. Lifting his chin, he sniffed the air, hoping to catch a whiff of oiled leather and damp wool that would signal the presence of the Confederates who were there to capture him. He surveyed the dark garden, trying to penetrate the shadowed corners between the privy house and the compost heap. A dozen men could hide there without a trace, he thought. He swallowed to calm his nerves. He was at the point of no return. From the moment he had said farewell to Colonel Lawrence this afternoon, his path had been set in a straight line toward the cells of Libby Prison. He regretted that the secrecy of his mission even forbade him from giving his young cousin a warmer-than-usual goodbye.

A whippoorwill's call pierced the wind. In the dead of a winter's night, that cry could only be a man-made signal. All Rob's senses heightened, and a spasm of pain spread through his useless hand. Someone moved beside the magnolia. Despite the apprehension for his future after tonight, he smiled when Julia materialized from under the tree's branches. Seeing her in the cold light of the moon, Rob appreciated her slender willowy form, despite the cloak that fell from her shoulders. His blood quickened in his veins as he strode across the frozen ground to meet her. In his pocket, the small book of Shakespearean sonnets bumped against his hip.

I must give it to Julia quickly before—

“Rob,” she breathed, her smile radiant. “I was afraid that I had missed you.”

He opened his good arm and she walked into his half-embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Slipping his hand around her slim waist, he pulled her closer to him—to keep her warm. Though she wore a wool dress with all its attendant corseting and layers of petticoats, he could still feel the flare of her hips. Rob sucked in his breath. How he longed to savor those delights that Julia's graceful body promised! He dipped his head to hers.

“This is an appointment I could not miss, though the devil himself barred the way,” he replied with ironic truth.

He suspected that his remaining freedom could be counted in mere minutes now. He had so much to tell Julia, and yet all his lips wanted to do was kiss her.

Julia looked up at him. “Payton arrived. We are truly engaged now, though I have a—”

“Do not speak of him. His name insults your tongue.” With those words, Rob covered her lips with his. Julia gasped; her sweet breath filled his mouth. A rush of sensual vitality raced through him. His manhood rose with white heat.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Julia returned his kiss with a reckless abandon that surprised him. She tasted of clover honey and summer wine—sweet and heady. Hers was a kiss to live for—one that he would cherish in the depths of his imprisonment.

 

Lieutenant Adamson watched the lovers meld together. The girl confirmed the man's identity when she whispered his name. Adamson groaned with envy. He wished his own sweetheart had half that much passion in her voice when she spoke to him. Drawing his revolver from its holster, he truly hated what he had to do. He sheathed his emotions
against the painful consequences he knew the next few minutes would bring.

Just then a shrill scream shattered the stillness. Lights flashed on inside the Chandler house. Shouts and another scream.

The couple broke their kiss, though the woman held the Yankee tight.

Adamson swore. This unexpected disturbance jeopardized his plan to capture the major and escape with as little disturbance as possible. He gestured to his nearest man, who nodded in response and passed the signal down the line. Miss Chandler whispered something in the major's ear, drawing his attention to herself. In less than a minute, the rangers surrounded their quarry. The lieutenant hoped he would be able to take Montgomery without commotion.

Putting his hand on the major's shoulder, Adamson felt his muscles under the coat instantly stiffen. He cocked his revolver. “Major Robert Montgomery, a word with you, if you please,” he whispered.

Montgomery looked up from Miss Chandler, but did not release her. In fact, he drew her closer to his body. “Do not harm this lady,” he growled. “She is innocent of this business.”

Spying Adamson's gun, Miss Chandler screamed, then clapped her hand over her mouth and buried her face in the major's chest. Maintaining an icy calm, Montgomery stroked her hair while staring at his captor. Adamson released a long breath. Though he hated upsetting women, he silently thanked Miss Chandler for her presence. For her sake, it appeared that Montgomery was not going to put up a fight. The lieutenant lowered his gun a fraction, though he did not uncock the hammer.

The noise inside the Chandler house increased in volume. More lights appeared in the downstairs windows.

“Colonel Mosby's compliments, sir. He wishes to meet you as soon as possible,” Adamson said quickly, hoping to keep down the noise in the garden. Perhaps the Chandlers' domestic quarrel could work to his advantage if no one inside paid any attention to what was happening behind their house.

Then Jamie noticed that the major's right hand remained in his pocket. Did he conceal a small pistol? Not wishing to make himself a prime target, he grabbed hold of Montgomery's right wrist and yanked out his hand. Instead of the stub nose of a derringer pointing at him, there was nothing but a glove. To be safe, Adamson pulled it off. In the moon's light, he saw the terrible damage done by a minié ball.

“Sweet Lord,” Adamson muttered. “Where did you get that?”

“Gettysburg,” Montgomery snapped, looking at a spot over the lieutenant's left shoulder.

Lifting her face from the man's coat, Miss Chandler stared at the misshapen fingers. “Oh, Rob,” she whispered.

The Yankee clenched his jaw. “Seen your fill, Lieutenant? With your permission, may I put my glove back on? Miss Julia is shocked enough.”

Adamson tore his gaze away from the man's injury to look into his eyes. A glare of cold steel returned his glance. With a mumbled apology, Adamson handed over the glove and marveled at the dexterity with which Montgomery pulled it on without releasing his hold of Miss Chandler.

The lights bobbed toward the rear door of the house. Adamson swore under his breath. Now he would have to explain himself to the family. He had hoped to vacate the garden without compromising the lady. That chance gone, now he prayed his rangers could escape with the major
before some wakeful neighbor called the Federal provost marshal.

Lieutenant Adamson gave Miss Chandler an apologetic look. “Beg your pardon, miss, but it appears that we have landed you in a heap of trouble.” As he spoke, the back door banged open. Several men bounded down the steps.

Miss Chandler shook her head. “No need to apologize, Lieutenant. I have made my own misfortune all by myself.”

The major looked down at her with a stricken expression. “Julia, please forgive me. I wish I could have spared you from this.”

Placing her hand on his chest over his heart, she smiled up at him. Her lips trembled. “No, Rob, I can't forgive you,” she replied in a whisper, “because there is nothing to—”

At that instant, Dr. Jonah Chandler yanked his daughter out of the major's embrace. “Unhand Julia or, by God, I'll kill you.” He waved a long-barreled rifle.

Julia gasped. “Papa, please!”

The doctor's outburst galvanized Adamson. Fearing for both the safety of his prisoner as well as that of his men, the lieutenant faced down the angry father. “Lieutenant James Adamson at your service, sir,” he said, stepping between Chandler's gun and Montgomery. He touched the brim of his gray felt slouch hat to the doctor.

“I regret this uncivilized intrusion upon your family and property, sir,” he continued swiftly, “but I was instructed to apprehend Major Montgomery at this place and hour. Your daughter is a brave woman, Dr. Chandler, and was most helpful in the capture of this Yankee. He is a member of General Grant's staff, and no doubt he has a great deal of information that my commander, Colonel Mosby, will be most eager to obtain. With your permission, we will re
move ourselves as quickly as possible and allow you and your family to return to your beds.”

The couple looked at one another with equal expressions of perplexity, while Dr. Chandler, somewhat mollified, stepped back. “Julia helped you?” he asked, with astonishment. “Is that what she's doing out here?”

Montgomery stared only at Miss Chandler. “Did you?” he mouthed silently to her.

Her eyes wide like those of a stricken doe, Miss Chandler pushed herself away from her father. She clutched her throat, but no sound emerged. Lieutenant Adamson hoped that she understood that his lie was meant to save her reputation. He cleared his throat. “Indeed, sir, Colonel Mosby is most grateful for Miss Chandler's assistance.” He gave her a fleeting smile.

 

A numbing sensation crept through Rob's brain. He barely felt his arms being tied behind his back. What was it Julia had whispered to him just as he was arrested? The only words he could remember were, “I am desperate.” Had he completely misconstrued her enthusiastic responses toward him? Was she really the spy that Lawrence suspected her to be? Had he been betrayed by a woman once again?

“Did you tell them I would be here tonight?” he asked her.

Shaking her head, she staggered backward toward the house. Though her lips moved, she made no sound, except the rasp of her breathing. She stared at him, at the Rebel soldiers, back to him, then at her father, then to a young fop standing behind Dr. Chandler that Rob presumed was Julia's cousin. Smarting under the lieutenant's revelation, Rob didn't know if he should feel sorry for Julia or be glad that she, in turn, would receive her just deserts.

“Julia—” he began again, but one of the Rebs pushed a gag between his teeth.

Their commander lifted his eyebrow. “Your pardon, Major, but I don't need your help to raise a ruckus.”

Rob swallowed. The cloth in his mouth tasted of tobacco and onions. He nodded to the lieutenant. Then he glanced at Julia again. Her eyes glazed over; in the moonlight she looked pale as a ghost. Maybe she knew nothing and this Rebel was trying to be a gentleman.

Two of the troopers grabbed him by each shoulder while a third man prodded him toward the gate with his rifle barrel. Mosby's Rangers had not earned their reputation for daring swift raids by loitering too long in one place. The closer Rob got to the gate, the faster the soldiers pushed him. He stretched his neck to look at Julia one last time. He saw her shake off the younger man's arm from her shoulder. Standing alone, she appeared as fragile as a glass figurine.

Outside in the alley, two other rangers held the reins of a number of horses. His three guards roughly pushed Rob up into the saddle of one. The book he had brought for Julia bumped against his leg. Rob bit down on his gag with frustration. There had been no opportunity to give it to her.