Blood Moon (17 page)

Mrs Bartlett took a step back. There was no light in Elizabeth’s eyes, she thought. There was nothing but darkness. She was possessed! There was nothing that would entice her to take Elizabeth up those stairs. “Oh my word, I think she has gone completely mad,” Mrs Bartlett said to Jacob. “Maybe we should wait for the doctor. I don’t think I can help at all.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The doctor examined Elizabeth, and the marshal and sheriff took statements from Charles, Jacob, and Rose, who was forced to come downstairs. Mrs Bartlett had insisted on returning to the ball. She was clearly overcome with a desire to relate the murder scene and all that had occurred with her husband and the Richmond ladies before the news got out and somebody beat her to it.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Elizabeth had killed Mrs Mallory. Elizabeth’s bruising however, was enough to presume that there had been a violent struggle between the two ladies. The doctor pronounced Elizabeth very ill indeed and insisted that she be taken to hospital rather than arrested and incarcerated in jail.  The doctor also stated that Elizabeth’s condition was akin to a form of coma, albeit one where the patient was awake. She was also suffering from amnesia and seemed to have no clue that Mrs Mallory was in fact dead. She had lost her senses and needed her family; this was his conclusion.

Jacob watched the long blade being pulled from du Pont’s body. The corpse itself was then lifted and put into a wooden coffin. His thoughts were mixed. He was worried sick about Elizabeth, but he was also pleased that du Pont was dead. She was gone from his life forever. Mercy would find peace now.

After leaving the house, Jacob mulled over what had been done and what he still had to do. The two house slaves, Charles and Rose, had been taken to the jailhouse, where they would remain until after the judge had spoken to them. The undertaker had asked Jacob about du Pont’s burial. “Throw her into a hole and don’t bother marking the grave. She does not deserve a decent burial – and don’t waste any words on her,” Jacob had retorted. The marshal had been visibly surprised by the forcefulness of Jacob’s answer, and Jacob was consequently invited to the jailhouse first thing in the morning to give a statement regarding his relationship with the dead Englishwoman.

A telegram would have to be sent to the Coulters. He would request permission to remain in Richmond until Elizabeth’s family got here. There was no going to Norfolk to see Mercy now.

The marshal said he was going to arrest Elizabeth for murder, for there was no doubt in his mind that she had committed the crime. Jacob had been vocal in his protestations, for what good would that do, he’d asked, if Elizabeth was at present unaware of the entire incident? His request to the marshal, to hold back on the arrest, was met with deaf ears, however. Murder was murder, the marshal told him, and she would be charged, regardless of her mental state.

Jacob rode back to Yorktown after spending an additional three days in Richmond. His body was heavy in the saddle. His head was bowed with the weight of guilt pressing upon him like a ton of rocks. Mr and Mrs Coulter were distraught. Their only daughter was lost in some other world and was incapable of recognising even her own parents. The Coulters had not been unkind to him, he thought, as he spurred his horse on, but this was because they knew nothing of his history with du Pont. Had they known about his association with her, they would have blamed him for this entire mess, and rightly so.

He thought back to the moment the Coulters saw their daughter. Elizabeth had been handcuffed to a bed. Her eyes held a look of fear, and she had flicked them left to right and back, as though she were following a horrific scene. Mrs Coulter had spoken to her daughter, but there had been no response, no glimmer of acknowledgement, and barely a blink from her eyes. 

Elizabeth had not spoken a word in the past three days. Her lips had moved with whisperings impossible to decipher. Her expression was completely passive and disinterested by the presence of those who loved her. The marshal had personally come to the hospital and had officially arrested her. She had not flinched when handcuffed, Jacob recalled now, and she had been unaware that within days she’d find herself in the jailhouse behind bars.

Mrs Coulter’s eyes had filled with tears in that first reunion. She had blessed herself, praying profusely for some miracle that would bring her daughter back to life. Old man Coulter had marched off immediately to seek out the marshal. Only over his dead body would his daughter be locked up, he had stated.

Jacob had promised to take full responsibility for Elizabeth’s care and legal fees. He had assured them that he’d find the best lawyer in Richmond, and he had done that, at great expense. Jacob had also given testimony, confirming Mrs Bartlett’s story by saying that he had warned Elizabeth about Mrs Mallory’s deceit and prowess for manipulation. He had added that he’d tried his best to talk Elizabeth out of coming to Richmond with the woman. Jacob had then enquired into the execution of du Pont’s will. The lawyer and a prominent judge had been verbally united in saying that there could be no inheritance for Elizabeth unless she was proven innocent of the crime of murder.

He felt sick to his stomach. He had planned to surprise Mercy in Norfolk, but the opportunity to go to her had been lost.  He had wanted to take her good news about his ongoing divorce proceedings, but all further actions regarding this legal issue would be halted now, according to the Richmond lawyer.

He was drowning in questions. Was Elizabeth’s mental state permanent? Would she remember what she had done? Would she hang for her crime? Would she be deemed fit enough to sign divorce papers? This last question was probably the least important, but it burned brightest in Jacob’s mind. He wanted nothing more than Mercy beside him, right now and forever. The irony was that du Pont had ultimately defeated him with her death – for if there was no divorce in the near future, there would be no marriage to the woman he loved more than life itself.

He grumbled to himself. He was a selfish bastard for even thinking about his personal needs. Elizabeth was facing a hanging if she was deemed fit enough to get to the courthouse. There was nothing wrong with her physical state, and should her mind come back to full or even partial awareness, she wouldn’t stand a hope in hell in front of the judge. 

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mercy felt the cool air caress her skin. It was late, after midnight, and the sultry summer nights had turned chilly, with autumn breezes sweeping in from the Atlantic Ocean.               Mercy’s arm was entwined in Isaac’s as they walked back to her quarters in a comfortable silence, with no urgency of foot or need to make conversation.  She spent most nights in Isaac’s company. They ate together when he was not on duty. They took gentle strolls around the fort and Negro encampment. Sometimes he even allowed her to ride with him into Newport News, where she would stare lovingly at Lina and Charlie’s boarding house with a mixture of nostalgia and sadness.

Mercy had spent a month at the fort. It was mid-October, and her wrist had all but healed. She had come to care deeply about the slaves encamped just outside the fort’s walls, and she had worked tirelessly in the past two weeks to make this rough and somewhat uncomfortable camp a home for the Negros. There were barely enough hours in the day. She rose at dawn and rarely reached her bed until after midnight.

Nelson did not join her in the evening excursions and activities with Isaac. He spent most of his time in the infirmary or with the slaves. Mercy had introduced him to Andrew, who had, upon his arrival at the fort, enlisted in the Union Army alongside Mathew and Billy. Nelson’s contentment was evident. He strutted behind Isaac, admired by the other Negros for being a legally free man – and one who had earned a respectable position as the surgeon’s orderly.

Mercy felt the weight of responsibility fall off her in shovel loads. Nelson did not need her anymore. She was glad, for she would slip away soon. Her plan was already in place, and her desire to go to Jacob was overwhelming. Nelson would not try to follow her when she left, but she would go with a lightness of heart, knowing that he had found his way in the world.

She shivered. Every time she thought about leaving, she felt the same nervous anticipation and a small amount of fear. Living at the fort had become like a sanctuary from outside perils, and she had mixed feelings about rejoining enemy territory where men talked about whipping slaves and oppressing their freedoms. Were it not for Jacob, she would not even think about leaving. The Yankees had given her a home and a purpose. Isaac had been a constant and valuable friend, and he was extremely protective of her.

She wondered if her letter had arrived safely in Norfolk. The fort’s commander, General Butler, had given her permission to mail her note. There was no harm in getting word to loved ones, he’d said most generously. It had been addressed to Dolly, but she prayed that it had somehow reached Jacob’s hands. If it hadn’t, she would have a lot of explaining to do when she saw him again.

She looked at Isaac’s profile and strong features. She would miss him, probably more than she cared to admit. She would do him a terrible injustice in the coming days, and he might never forgive her. She sighed and shivered again with guilt and thoughts of a departure which would leave Isaac and Nelson hurt and angry.

“Mercy, you’re shivering. Here, take my coat,” Isaac said.

Mercy jumped at the sudden interruption. She smiled and nodded. “It’s not really cold. I think I’m probably just tired,” she said. She watched Isaac remove his blue uniform coat and allowed him to slip it over her shoulders. He gave her a smile, and she felt a small ripple of pleasure. “Thank you, Isaac. You spoil me. You have to stop it. I’ll become far too used to it and turn all soft and feeble.”

“Good, that’s what I want to hear. I would do anything to make you happy and keep you safe. You must know that by now.”

Isaac pulled the coat across her chest and buttoned it up. He smiled. The coat drowned her slim form. She looked as fragile as a small bird. “I have come to care for you a great deal. I’m so happy you’re here. I don’t think I’ve ever been so contented, which might sound strange considering I’m in the army and we’re at war. But that’s the truth, Mercy. Do you have any affections for me? Could you care for me?”

“I do care for you. I care for you very much,” Mercy said. “I’m happy we found each other again. You have always been my gallant saviour, Isaac, from the very first night we met. I’m very fortunate to have you in my life.” She then told him that it was almost one year ago to the exact day that she’d walked across London Bridge. “It’s my birthday next week. I’ve just remembered. I’ll be nineteen – I’m getting old!” she said playfully.

              Isaac laughed. He loved her with a passion which grew in strength with every passing day. He was on the brink of telling her how he felt. He hoped that when he said the words that mirrored his feelings, she would tell him that she felt the same way. But he was also afraid that his declaration of love might be too sudden. He was not entirely convinced that her heart had healed or that Jacob was not still in there, haunting her. He pushed these thoughts away for the moment, deciding to keep the conversation light.

“My dear, do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You are not yet twenty.” He laughed again. “A lot of woman your age are still ensconced at home, learning how to become ladies. You are still so young, yet you are already a great lady with more than enough memories to last a lifetime.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be a proper lady, Isaac,” Mercy laughed. “For one thing, I don’t talk like a lady, and I probably never will. I do agree with you about my memories, though. I do seem to have done a lot in a short period. Some of what I experienced wasn’t very nice, but then, my grandpa always told me that life was meant to be full of hardship for the likes of me. He said that the burden of my father’s suicide was mine to carry. Grandpa thought my father was a coward, and to make up for that flaw, I should be strong and accepting of every last rotten thing that happened to me, just to prove to the world that the Carvers were still a stoic lot and not a bunch of sissies.”

              Isaac was pensive for a moment. He would not have liked Mercy’s family; he was damn sure of that. Mercy was a woman who deserved to be happy and protected, not conditioned to simply survive life’s pitfalls because of some damn family code of honour. They were almost at Mercy’s quarters, and what had to be said could not wait for another day. He needed her to know right then that he was going to be the man to give her the happiness she deserved. He had planned his words, and this was the perfect opportunity to ask her the question that had been on his mind for almost a year.

              “Mercy, do you believe in fate?” he asked.

Mercy nodded and immediately thought about Lina. “I do, Isaac. When Lina told me about her belief in destiny and fate, I wasn’t sure if I agreed with her argument. I suppose I couldn’t decide if all that had happened to me was because of my own stupid decisions or if there was some higher power at work. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I guess I look at the world in a different way now. Bethel taught me that there’s a very thin line between living and dying. I watched good men fall inches from where I stood. I keep wondering why the bullets missed me and hit them – and I still don’t know. Did the good Lord choose those men to die? Did he decide before the battle that I should return here to see you, when I truly believed that all hope of seeing you again was lost?

“I want to believe that fate has brought us together. When I got on that train in Portsmouth, I held to the opinion that you were bound to become a beautiful memory that would linger until I found my great love in Boston – whoever that might be. After that happened, I aimed to keep you in my mind and think of you as a pleasant acquaintance from the past – nothing more. But I figure the Lord
has
brought us together again, and I don’t aim on ruining the opportunity given to me.”

“Isaac, please …”

“Please don’t hush me. Let me finish,” Isaac said. There was no going back now. He loved her, ached for her touch, her smile, and her affections. “These past weeks with you have been wonderful. My feelings for you have only grown stronger, Mercy, and I feel it’s not only my desire but my duty to ask for your hand in marriage.” She could be under no illusions about his feelings now, he thought, watching her ever-changing expression. She was surprised. He could see it in her eyes. She needed time to think about this, and that was only fair.

“Please don’t give me your answer until you have had time to think about it. I know how much you loved Jacob, and I understand if you need time to heal. But he is in your past, as is Madame du Pont and all your terrible ordeals. I offer you the future and all that it can offer. If I survive this war, I will give you a wonderful life in Boston. You will want for nothing. Let me care for you …”

Tears gathered in Mercy’s eyes. Isaac, sweet Isaac, was the perfect man for her in every way. In these past weeks, she had come to admire him, and in moments of weakness, she had even wondered what it would be like to kiss him – but he wasn’t Jacob. He wasn’t the man she loved.

“Isaac, I have to go in now,” she said. She unbuttoned the blue coat. She had to get away from him. She couldn’t breathe.

Isaac took her hands in his and kissed them. He removed the coat from her shoulders and saw her to her door. “Promise me you’ll think on it,” he said. “Don’t break my heart sweet, Mercy. Tell me you’ll become my wife and make me the happiest man alive.”

Mercy was consumed with guilt and no small measure of regret. She stood in front of a man who was handsome, clever, kind, and most importantly, believed in the same values she held so dearly – but he was not, Jacob. “I will think about all you have said and talk to you about it in the morning,” she told him. “I’m a little overwhelmed – I’m sorry I can’t answer you tonight.” The tears settling in her eyes threatened to spill over. “Good night, Isaac. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”