Blood Moon (24 page)

Chapter Forty-Two

Mercy sat in a windowless room lit only by three candles. The long shadows of the two men present sat on the whitewashed wall behind them, looking like black monsters, curved, deformed, and seeping onto the ceiling. The chair she sat on was hard and uncomfortable, even though her behind was well padded by petticoats and her dress’s copious material. Her stays and corset crushed her lungs and made her feel giddy, and after so many hours in the bleedin’ things, she was surprised she hadn’t stopped breathing entirely. 

She shuddered under the men’s penetrating stares. The Confederate officer, wearing a grey uniform sparkling with gold buttons and insignia on his shoulders and lapels, scared Mercy even more than the judge did, for the army man had no kindness in his eyes or sympathy for the pickle in which she had found herself. He carried a sabre attached to a gold sash. It rattled as he shifted his position in the chair. She stared at the sash. It reminded her of the one she had bought Jacob. Jacob had worn it today in the courthouse, and she clung now to the memory of his smile.

She wished for this to be over, but both men seemed intent on intimidating her with their silent glares. Someone had to say something, she thought. She was sure she was going to faint at any moment, sitting as straight as a poker and unable to breathe properly.

“I am not a spy – truly I’m not,” she blurted out without thinking. “This is a mistake.  I love Virginia …” Goodness, why were they not speaking to her? Were they going to sit there and gawk at her all night?

Mercy heard the door behind her open and then close again soon after. A soldier brushed past her, taking a seat in the corner behind the judge and officer. He held a notepad and pencil in his hand, and she presumed he was a clerk, here to take notes.

“Miss Carver, my name is Major John Forrest,” the officer finally said. “Now, Judge Travers and I have read this letter right here, clearly describing your stay in a Union encampment. You can understand our concerns – can you not?”

“Major Forrest, Judge Travers, it’s true that I was at Fort Monroe,” Mercy told them. “I lived there for four weeks, but I never intended on going there. I knew it was a Union fort because my friends told me it was. You see, I had an accident whilst out riding on the outer edge of Newport News. I got a nasty cut on my belly, and I also broke my wrist falling off my horse … Sirs, I know the Yankees are your enemy, but I have to be honest and tell you that they came to my assistance and helped me recover. I can show someone my belly scar if you want me to.”

Mercy drew attention to her injured hand, which had been sitting on her lap. She raised it in the air and then let it fall limply onto the desktop. “This is where I broke my wrist. I thought I was going to die with the agony of it. I got knocked out from the fall, and when I woke up, I was inside the fort. This is the God’s honest truth.”

“Why were you riding near the fort?” the major asked.

“I was visiting my friend Lina in the graveyard. She died, you see. I get so upset when I see her grave – I just took a wrong turn. Do you honestly think I would write a bleedin’ letter letting everyone know where I was if I were a Yankee spy? Gawd blimey, that wouldn’t make me very good at that job, now would it?

“I got out of there as soon as I could. I stole a horse – oh dear, I suppose the Yankees could hang me for that. I just wanted to get to Yorktown as fast as I could. This is all so upsetting.” Mercy sniffed loudly. The major gave her his handkerchief, and she nodded gratefully. “You have to believe me.”

She looked up to see the two men still staring, but without their earlier suspicions. She wiped her eyes. If Southern women could manipulate men with tears and feminine vulnerabilities, she could too. She’d be a right sissy, she thought. “I came here today to give testimony at the courthouse. I never imagined I would be accused of such a heinous crime. I love the South!” she reiterated. “I would never deceive all the kind people I have met here. Never in a million years!”

“Can you tell us what you saw at the fort?” the major asked.

“What do you mean, ‘what I saw’?”

“Can you describe some of the guns you saw, how big they were? How many … and where were they placed? How many soldiers are in the fort and garrison? Can you remember any battle plans being talked about? What ships supply the fort? How many ships?”

“Major, if I were a spy I could probably answer all your questions, but I really don’t know what goes on there. I spent two weeks confined to the infirmary, and after they let me out of there, I was put to work in the kitchens. I saw a lot of soldiers and slaves. There are runaway slaves there – but you probably know that already. As for guns, well I really wouldn’t know one gun from another if they fell on top of me. They all kill and maim, that’s all I know.”

Mercy sighed. A yawn left her mouth, and she apologised. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m very tired. I was so scared, running from the fort, reaching Yorktown, and then getting lost in this big city. I don’t think I’ve slept properly in days.”

The judge and major said nothing. They looked at one another and nodded. Mercy held her breath.

“Miss Carver, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t see any reason to support Corporal Coulter’s claim that you are a spy, but you understand that we need to do some more digging here?” the major said.

“I do. But I don’t know what else you will find unless you talk to the doctor who treated me,” Mercy replied.

The major and judge stood up in unison. Mercy stared up at them teary-eyed. They would leave her alone now to stew, she thought. They would discuss her words and then tell her what was to become of her. “May I have some water, please? I feel quite faint,” she said pitifully.

Judge Travers had not spoken a word up until now. “You just stay put,” he told Mercy. “We won’t leave you here all night. We’ll get this whole mess cleared up in no time …”

Chapter Forty-Three

Midnight bells were ringing in a nearby clock tower. Mercy stepped into the street in front of the jailhouse and shivered in the night air. She looked to her right and then to her left. A lone carriage sat nearby. She hoped it was for hire.

She really was tired now. All she wanted was to take her clothes off, get into a hot bath, and forget this horrible day. Thank God it was over, she thought. The very thought of being hung by the Confederacy sent shivers up and down her spine. Good grief, if they had found out about her involvement with the Underground Railroad, she would have been in even bigger trouble. She sighed with relief and walked towards the carriage.

The carriage door opened. Jacob stepped out and rushed towards her with a grin on his face. Mercy’s shivering body warmed at the sight of him. She ran into his arms and felt his love engulf her. “I’m so glad you’re here – but why have you come?” she asked him.

Jacob smiled and brushed an errant strand of hair from her face. “I wanted to be here to watch you walk down those steps. I don’t want another minute to go by without telling you what a fool I was in Yorktown. He kissed her soundly and said, “Where’s that comely bonnet you were wearing today?”

Mercy frowned. “I left in the jail cell. I was so happy to get out of that place that I forgot all about it.”

“To hell with it. I’ll buy you another. I’m just glad this is over for you. I thought they were going to keep you in there all night.”

“How long have you been sitting here?”

“A couple of hours,” Jacob said. “Mrs Bartlett gave me her carriage. She insists you go straight to her house. She vouched for you, Mercy. She told the judge that she would keep her eye on you. This means you
cannot
go running off on another one of your adventures. You have to remain in Richmond. This is an order. You will heed this, won’t you?”

“Yes, the major made it quite clear that I was not to leave the city for the foreseeable future. Does this mean they still suspect me?”

“It means they have taken this charge very seriously, and I would expect nothing less in a time of war. We’ll talk about this some more tomorrow, but right now, I need to get you to Mrs Bartlett’s house. You must be exhausted.”

“Mrs Bartlett came to see me today. She was very kind.”

“She’s taken quite a shine to you, but I knew she would. It seems you have yourself a very powerful ally, and for the first time in a year, I finally feel happy about your safety.”

Mercy halted mid-step. “You mentioned Yorktown. What about our talk?” she asked him. “Are you here as a friend or as … or because …”

“Hush. I am here for whatever you need. You are looking at the biggest idiot on God’s green earth. We’ll talk before I drop you off at Mrs Bartlett’s house.”

The carriage called at Mercy’s lodgings on the way to Mrs Bartlett’s house. Mercy picked up her sparse belongings, whilst Jacob paid the night clerk outstanding monies.

How wonderful it would be if they could spend this night together, she thought, getting back into the carriage. On the journey to the boarding house, Jacob had made it clear that he didn’t care who saw them or what people thought, but Mercy did. Elizabeth was on trial for her life, she told him. It wouldn’t be proper to flaunt their love for each other or to behave inappropriately.

They arrived at Mrs Bartlett’s house. Before they left the carriage, Jacob kissed Mercy and held her in his arms. He cupped her chin and stared into her eyes, shaking his head in wonder. He was one lucky son of a bitch to have been given another chance. “Mercy, there’s something you have to know before you go in there.”

“Jacob …?”

“No, no, it’s not what you think. I almost lost you. I sent you away. I want you to know that I will never, ever ask you to leave me again. On my most solemn oath, no matter what the outcome with Elizabeth, I will be at your side. When this war is over, and if I survive it, I will take you anywhere you want to go. I cannot offer you marriage, as I had hoped, but we will live together as man and wife. We will, and no man or woman will stop us.

“I broke my promise to you. I destroyed your trust. I want you to know that I will not take your love for granted again. You have my full commitment, my heart, and my possessions – you hold my future in your hands, because without you, there are no expectations of happiness. I have not been deserving of your love, but I ask you, my darling, to believe in me one more time.”

Mercy kissed him and sighed with contentment. Jacob had displayed weakness in the face of adversity, yet she had never doubted his love, she thought. He had been willing to give up on them, yet she knew their paths, though tenuously joined at times, were solid. He had married for honour and duty, the weakest of foundations, yet he now promised Mercy love and devotion, the strongest of bonds.

              Jacob had made so many mistakes, but so had she, Mercy thought. The past year had taught her many things. She believed it had also taught Jacob how to honour love. Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “Jacob, it’s my birthday today. I’m another year older. I just hope to God, I have gained a bit more wisdom.”  

Chapter Forty-Four

Elizabeth slumped in the hard chair provided for her and briefly cast her eyes around the courtroom. She had been enraged after overhearing loose-tongued deputies talk about Mercy Carver being released without charge. The deputies’ incessant chatter about the tramp had left her feeling completely ignored. Mercy Carver had come along and stolen all the sympathy that should have been given to
her
. She was so livid that she could barely maintain the pathetic innocent expression that she had been forced to wear on her face for weeks. Lord above, it seemed like months since she had had any fun, she thought. She was tired, miserable, and at the end of her patience.

She looked out from beneath half-closed eyelids at her parents, who were sitting next to Jacob. Nathan wasn’t there. No matter, she thought. She would thank him in a letter for all his efforts to get rid of the Carver woman. She would make the letter a priority the moment she walked through the doors of Stone Plantation.

She was happy about one thing at least: her ordeal would be over this very day. She thanked the Lord in silent prayer. She had not the strength to face another night in jail, listening to vulgar deputies who’d treated her like a common criminal. Killing Margaret Mallory had caused her no end of bother, and the ugliness of it would live with her forever. She had asked God’s forgiveness, for Margaret’s blood
was
on her hands, and there was no denying that. But she had suffered enough.

The judge entered the courtroom. The jury rose to their feet. Elizabeth glanced at the twelve members with a pitiable expression and decided they were going to proclaim her innocent. She would go home today and put all this behind her. She would take up the mantle of good wife and would even suffer Jacob’s hands on her to conceive a child. She checked a smile with thoughts of revenge. She would spend all his money; whup that nigger, Handel; and pray to the good Lord for a Yankee’s bullet in Jacob’s gut. She had only a few more hours to get through, and then all would be right.

Two hours passed. The defence lawyer followed the prosecution lawyer in summation, and the judge had already given the jury some guidelines to help them in their deliberations. The tension in the courtroom was palpable. There was barely a whisper amongst the spectators.

Judge Travers signalled to the jurors that their moment for deliberation had arrived. When the courtroom was cleared, Mrs Bartlett joined Jacob in the hallway. There had been no indication of how long it would take the jury to reach a verdict. It was decided, therefore, that they would remain inside the courthouse until the jury came back, whenever that might be.

Mrs Coulter sat farther down the hall, wringing her hands and sobbing into her delicate white handkerchief. Her face was swollen with tears. She had declared on more than one occasion that her heart was ready to stop. She was finished, she had told her husband. She would be done with life if she were not able to take her daughter home this very day. Mr Coulter, who was still seething with anger at Mercy’s appearance the previous day, scowled at every passer-by, probably wondering how the hell he was going to support a dim-witted daughter who had ruined their family’s name.

Jacob was not sure which way this verdict would go. Elizabeth had committed murder, but he believed that should the jury decide to free her, it would be because of their Christian consciences or repugnance of Margaret Mallory. He had studied the jury’s faces during testimony. He had seen eyes filled with pity for Elizabeth, but confusion had also been present. Right now, the twelve jurors would be asking, “Did Elizabeth intentionally kill or did she stab Mallory to death in self-defence?” Damn it, he thought, if only he knew the answer to that question.

“I am of the opinion that Elizabeth will receive a period of incarceration,” Mrs Bartlett pronounced in a whisper.

Jacob stirred from his thoughts and nodded in agreement. “You might be right, Mrs Bartlett. They won’t hang her and I don’t think the judge will let her go home.”

Jacob wanted to smile at the world this morning. He was happy, despite the daunting thought of his wife’s fate being decided. Mercy had looked radiant at Mrs Bartlett’s breakfast table. After being invited to join the ladies, Jacob had tentatively asked Mrs Bartlett’s permission to call on Mercy every day until he received orders to leave Richmond. She had granted his request.

He looked at the throng of people waiting to be called back into the courtroom, wishing that he could conjure up a measure of sympathy for his wife. He would probably go to hell for his lacklustre support for Elizabeth, but she had brought herself to this, and he no longer wanted to bear the guilt of her actions. The only thing he desired now was a bright future with Mercy.

“You’d better get back in, folks. Go take your seats now,” a voice rang down the hallway. “Verdict’s in.”

Jacob was surprised. He had expected the jury to take longer. He took Mrs Bartlett’s arm and followed Mr and Mrs Coulter back into the courtroom. Was this a good sign or a bad sign? he wondered.

Elizabeth stood in the dock. Her body trembled, and her hands were clenched in tight balls by her sides. Jacob once again felt a measure of compassion. No woman should have to abide this, he thought. He prayed silently for the best possible outcome. Whatever happened would not affect his resolve to leave Elizabeth and go to Mercy, but an acquittal for Elizabeth would certainly ease tensions with the Coulter family.

“Do you have a verdict?” Judge Travers asked the jury’s representative.

“We do, Judge.”

A deputy took the jury’s written verdict and passed it to the judge. The judge glanced at it without comment or expression and passed it back. “Read it aloud to the court,” he ordered.

The jury representative cleared his throat. “We the jury find the defendant, Mrs Elizabeth Stone, guilty of the crime of murder.”

“No!” Mrs Coulter screamed above the tide of noise filling the room. “No, my daughter is a victim!”

“That’s enough, folks!” the judge shouted above the thumping noise of his gavel.

“Simmer down. This is not a debate. This is a court of law!”

Jacob was shocked. Mercy’s testimony should have, at the very least, lessened the verdict to a crime of self-defence – but murder? She was guilty of a capital offence. He watched, stunned with fear, as Judge Travers shifted papers in front of him.

He looked at Elizabeth. She sat with her hands covering her face, muffling her wretched weeping. The judge would want this over with as soon as possible, Jacob thought. Travers would not adjourn again to deliberate on sentencing. He had to end this now, before he lost control of this riled-up mob. He recalled the marshal’s statement and groaned.
Murder is murder, regardless of circumstances.

“Silence!” Judge Travers shouted.

The noise receded. Jacob held his breath. He looked again at Elizabeth, who now stared with unquestionable contempt at the jury. “I don’t think Travers knows what to do with her,” he whispered irately to Mrs Bartlett.

“This has been a difficult and distasteful case,” the judge said. “I have listened to the evidence and find that I cannot and will not overturn the jury’s verdict. The verdict of murder stands, just as it should. However, I have taken into consideration Mrs Stone’s state of mind and Miss Carver’s testimony, and I have to say that I do not believe this was a premeditated killing.

“The facts surrounding Mrs Mallory’s murder are sorely lacking here. The jury has determined that Mrs Stone did unlawfully kill the deceased, but we can only speculate as to why she did it. The mind is a mighty complex piece of equipment, and as the doctors have stated, amnesia is a condition we have yet to understand.

“Mrs Stone, given your poor health, I believe that an undetermined period of incarceration in one of our fine mental institutions here in the capital would be in your best interest—”

“What?” Elizabeth shouted. “I am not going to a mental asylum. I want to go home! Judge, you cannot do this to me. I am not a bad woman – and I am not mad! Ma, Pa, take me back to Portsmouth!”

“Hush now, Mrs Stone. This is for your own good,” the judge said soothingly. “You will not be going home for a very long time. Do you understand what I’m telling you? You committed murder, Mrs Stone.”

“I did not! Margaret stole my money. She took everything away from me. She was heartless and cruel. Had I not killed her when I did, she would have killed me. I only did what any terrified woman would do! I am not guilty – I am not!”

Voices rose once again. Jacob covered his face and shook his head. Mrs Bartlett whispered in his ear, locking out the surrounding voices. “What is she saying, Captain? I knew she was lying. Oh my.”

“God help her,” Jacob said.

Elizabeth and the judge locked their eyes together in a silent battle. She begged him for leniency as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’ll just die if you put me in a madhouse with all those crazy people,” she cried. “I can’t abide the thought of it. Oh God, help me! I’m good – I’m good!”

Travers’s livid red face continued to stare at Elizabeth. “Stand up, Mrs Stone! I have not finished with you. If you interrupt me again, I will have you removed. I will not tolerate any more contempt in my courtroom!

“As I said, you are hereby sentenced to a period of psychiatric care, and as you appear to have regained your memory and your wits, I don’t believe you will be in the mental institution for long. With this in mind, I sentence you to fifteen years in a women’s  penitentiary, to begin as soon as you are released from the asylum. That is all. I thank the jury for their service. Now get the prisoner out of my sight!” Judge Travers thumped his gavel for the last time. He stood, turned, and walked out of the courtroom.

Jacob watched Elizabeth being dragged roughly by the arms by deputies. A distraught Mrs Coulter tried to follow her daughter, but her husband pulled her back. Newspapermen descended from the gallery and rushed towards the Coulters for statements. Jacob guided Elizabeth’s parents towards the door, which was blocked by a swarm of excited onlookers.

“I am so sorry,” Jacob said to Mrs Coulter. The Coulters reached the hallway, and Jacob led them into a vacant unlocked room. “Mrs Coulter, I am at your service. Tell me what you want to do. My funds are at your disposal should you want to appeal this verdict. We’ll do everything we can to get her released. You have my full support.”

Mr Coulter’s face was red with rage. He let go of his wife’s arm, clenched his fist, and threw a punch.

Jacob staggered backwards, feeling Coulter’s tight fist’s full force on his jawline. He regained his footing, rubbed his jaw, and said, “I will let that pass, sir, but if you ever touch me again, I
will
strike you back. Your daughter hoodwinked you both. You saw her. You heard her confession. She’s not suffering from amnesia. She never did. She lied to both of you!

“I reckon you should deal with Elizabeth’s deception, sir, instead of lashing out at me. I will take no more of your family’s meddling into my affairs and cussing me to the world. My marriage is over. It was over months ago, with Elizabeth’s full agreement, yet I am prepared to call on her later today, and every day to come, for as long as I am able, if that is what you want.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter, you godamn son of a bitch!” Mr Coulter yelled. “May God forgive your black soul from hell! You ain’t no man – you ain’t got no decency!”

Jacob put his hat on and walked to the door. He had done what he could. There was nothing else to say, except goodbye to this sordid affair. He tipped his hat to Mrs Coulter. “Ma’am, you have my condolences,” he said. “My offer stands. You know where to find me.”