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Authors: Jocelyn Green

Wedded to War (37 page)

BOOK: Wedded to War
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“We wouldn’t just be there to offer the tender female touch, you understand. If there’s one thing Alice and I know how to do, it’s how to manage a household, including servants—or in this case, your band of men. I’ve been trained to superintend, and I fully intend to do so.”

Olmsted rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “Your families never agreed to this. They only agreed to let you nurse at the general hospitals here in Washington, safely within the encircling camps
of our own troops. Down in the peninsula, it’s a different story all together. We’d be behind enemy lines. I can’t ensure your safety. If anything should happen to you …”

“Do you believe in God, Mr. Olmsted?” asked Charlotte.

He looked up, confused. “Are we changing the subject here?”

“I believe He is sovereign, even in war. If he means us to be safe, we will be safe here, on the peninsula, or in our homes. If our days are to end, then they will end, no matter where we happen to be. He is ultimately in control of our well-being. Not the government, not the Sanitary Commission, not you. So please. Let us come, and leave our safekeeping in God’s hands. We have work to do.”

Mr. Olmsted paused before giving his measured reply. “We must be prudent, Miss Waverly. Just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should.”

“And just because it’s never been done before doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

Mr. Olmsted smiled ruefully, and Charlotte bit her tongue in regret. She had gotten carried away again. Olmsted, though he seemed quiet and tame, had been pushing for things that had never been done before ever since he was named General Secretary of the Sanitary Commission. She had overspoken. Again.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I said too much.”

“I am a reformer at heart, the same as you,” he said. “But we must both remember that some precedents have been set for good reason. We would be foolish to change everything just for the sake of change.” With that, he bade them good day, and walked away.

Charlotte’s shoulders sank as she watched his limping form retreat, and with it sank her heart. Had her outspokenness cost them their chance?

 
New York City
Saturday, April 26, 1862
 

At five o’clock, the train screeched and hissed at its platform before chugging into motion. With Mrs. Waverly sitting quietly beside him, he closed his eyes and imagined the moment of their arrival at the Ebbitt House. Charlotte would answer the door, surprised. Would she be happy for his presence or immediately rebellious against both him and her mother? In October, she had seemed like soft candle wax in his hands, easily shaped and molded. He could only hope that the intervening months had not hardened her to his touch. He did not want her to think of him as a kidnapper. He wanted to be the knight in shining armor, coming to rescue his princess from impending danger. The problem, however, was that Charlotte had never been convinced she needed rescuing in the first place.

And then, of course, there was Ruby. He had to get them away from each other somehow, and now.

The locomotive picked up speed, and Phineas felt the tension ease out of his shoulders and neck. The city whizzed by in a blur of cobblestones, bricks, and glass until the view gave way to fresh green countryside lined with split-rail fences and dotted with farms and silos.

Phineas breathed in deeply, then exhaled. The gentle rocking rhythm of the moving train comforted his frayed nerves. He was on his way, at last.

 
Washington City
Saturday, April 26, 1862
 

At five o’clock, the sun pierced through the thick wool blanket of clouds that had hovered over the city all day, and Mr. Olmsted came scurrying back to Charlotte and Alice’s room once more.

“I’ve just come from the
Daniel Webster,
” he said from the doorway, not bothering to remove his hat. “The boat isn’t nearly as dirty as I thought it would be. Be ready tomorrow morning at seven to ride to Alexandria. The
Daniel Webster
will sail south as soon as we have the provisions aboard. Your duties, if you should accept them, will be strictly managerial. You will organize the supply rooms, make the beds ready for patients, oversee the kitchen, and manage the special diets for the patients.”

Turning to Ruby, he added, “Mrs. O’Flannery, are you up for a change of scenery?”

“Aye, sir,” she replied quietly.

“Then it’s settled. Bring only two dresses each with you, including the one on your back. There will be no room for anything more. See you at the wharf. I’ll be on board by the time you get there, no doubt. Just climb aboard and be ready to roll up your sleeves.”

With a quick nod and bend at the waist, he departed, leaving a wake of gleeful women behind him.

Charlotte grabbed the letter she had written to her mother that afternoon and crumpled it into a ball. Pulling out a clean sheet of stationery, she once again put the pen to paper.

Dear Mother,

Providence Himself has opened the door to us to follow the great Army of the Potomac on its Peninsula Campaign. Mr. Olmsted has just informed us that we are to be nurses/superintendents aboard the hospital transport ship the
Daniel Webster.
We set sail in the morning!

Alice is beside herself with joy to be following Jacob, of course. She even sent Maurice home to Fishkill, confident she can take care of herself. Can you imagine?

Pardon haste. We will write more after we embark, I am sure.

Love,     
Charlotte

 
Chapter Twenty-Eight
 
Washington City
Sunday, April 27, 1862
 

C
aroline’s stomach growled, and her eyes burned with exhaustion. What had been a stiff neck before the train ride was now a cramped mass of knots spreading their way into her shoulders and back. At the front desk of the Ebbitt House lobby, Phineas rang a bell and drummed his fingers on the counter until a slender, balding man appeared.

“Charlotte Waverly, please,” said Phineas.

“Sorry, just missed her.”

“She’s at church already, then?” Caroline should have known. “When do you expect her back?”

“I don’t.” The small man crossed his needle-thin arms across his chest.

“Pardon me?”

“She’s canceled her room. Packed most everything up last night and asked me to mail them tomorrow morning for her.”

“Mail them where?” Phineas’s voice rose.

“New York City, most of them. Some to Cooper Union, some to Sixteenth Street.”

“And the other boxes?” Caroline asked quietly, as if to compensate for Mr. Hastings.

“Some are marked for the Sanitary Commission headquarters at the Treasury Building. Sure looks like she and her sister won’t be coming back any time soon, parceling out all their things that way. Shame. They were good customers.”

Phineas leaned in and a vein throbbed in his temple. “They didn’t say where they were going? Or why?”

The man rubbed his chin. “I don’t suppose it’s any of my business,” he said. “Is it yours?”

“Did you see which way she went?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but stalking women is not included in my duties. If there is nothing else, you will kindly leave the premises.”

Caroline tugged on his arm. “It’s all right, Mr. Hastings. Jacob must have talked them into coming home when the army marched south. He would never have allowed …” her voice trailed off. So far, Charlotte and Alice had been the ones to talk Jacob into their ideas, not the other way around.

Mr. Hastings shook her hand off his arm and stared at her wild-eyed, almost twitching in anger. “Are you really so blind?”

Caroline inhaled sharply. “No, Mr. Hastings,” she said cooly. “I am not.”

Suddenly, Charlotte’s intentions weren’t the only ones in question.

 
Daniel Webster
, Potomac River, Virginia
Sunday, April 27, 1862
 

It did not feel like a Sunday.

Neither did it feel like a war, thought Charlotte. Cool breezes
stirred the water and pulled strands of hair from the knot at her neck, twirling them until they curled gaily to her shoulders. Closing her eyes to the sun’s blinding, rippling reflection, Charlotte lifted her face to the brilliance and let the golden warmth radiate through her, infusing her like honey.
This is a holiday
, Charlotte told herself, and almost believed it, for she had never felt so free, so single-minded.

The gutted, filthy old steamer
Daniel Webster
was being transformed into a hospital transport even as it sped down the river. Contrabands were scrubbing and sanding the floors and whitewashing the walls. Carpenters built bunks under Olmsted’s direction. Olmsted, Knapp, and a few other gentlemen unpacked quantities of stores while the women sewed a large hospital flag to identify the ship. They sang hymns and recited psalms as they stitched in an attempt to remember that it was the Lord’s Day, after all, even if they were not in church.

Soon the
Daniel Webster
would be full of living, pulsing cargo, men needing beef tea and brandy, milk toast and gruel. Charlotte wouldn’t get a moment’s sleep until they were all washed, bedded, fed, and cared for. She would snatch back to life men teetering on the brink of death. Fever patients would rage in their madness, and she would not rest until they were consoled.

Charlotte couldn’t wait.

 
New York City
Monday, April 28, 1862
 

A hard rain pelted the windows of the Waverly parlor as Caroline and Phineas stood, dripping, just inside the front door.

“You mean they aren’t here?” Caroline’s voice rang with alarm.

“Well, no, mum. Did you expect them to arrive before you?” Jane’s cheeks flamed red.

“I knew it,” said Phineas. “I knew she’s gone off with the army.”

Caroline leaned on Jane for support as her knees buckled beneath her.

Thunder growled and fine china rattled in its cabinet in protest like delicate women tittering nervously.

BOOK: Wedded to War
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