The Quaker and the Rebel (34 page)

Like most towns in the original thirteen colonies, Middleburg had been laid out in a symmetrical grid pattern with blocks relatively the same size.

The opulent home of Thaddeus Marshall occupied almost all of one block, with a small hotel on one corner and the Episcopal Church facing the street to the rear. Arriving guests descended from their carriages at the ornately wrought gate and then strolled through formal gardens to the Marshalls’ front door. The stone path wound through manicured boxwood, bowers of clematis and ivy, along with peach and pear trees. Their garden and small orchard created a veritable Eden within the city. The mansion, built on the back property line, resembled an Irish manor house with double chimneys at both ends and tall, symmetrical windows. Circling up three stories, a carved walnut staircase dominated the impressive foyer. The Marshalls used the main floor for their lavish balls and receptions, preferring not to climb to the third floor. To the right of the parlor were the dining room and Mr. Marshall’s study.

Alexander and his rangers arrived at the Marshall home for their beloved poker game. Alexander usually accepted his aunt and uncle’s hospitality and stayed overnight. Guest bedrooms and quarters for household staff could be found on the third floor. It was not unusual for his officers to share rooms in the house after their card games, while another dozen soldiers bunked in the stable loft or other outbuildings. On warm summer nights some men spread their bedrolls under fruit trees or in the grape arbor, where they could inhale a sweet fragrance as they drifted to sleep.

Such was the case on this warm night in late fall. The poker games—penny ante in the parlor and higher stakes in the library—broke up around midnight. Alexander, Nathan, and several other officers feasted on cold fried chicken and sweet corn with Mr. and Mrs. Marshall in the kitchen. With sandwiches in hand, the other rangers sang on their way to their bedrolls in the garden. Alexander felt uncommonly content with the world on this November night. After a flush of hearts in the final hand, his wallet was richer by ten dollars. His men were ready to ride to Culpeper at dawn to relieve a supply train of horse feed. And he had just finished a delicious meal with his aunt and uncle, who never missed an opportunity to badger him about his bachelor status.

“If you wait any longer, nephew, the only women left who will have you will be my age.” His aunt shook her finger in warning.

“If she’s half as lovely as you, I will be a happy bridegroom.” His usual reply brought a blush to his aunt’s cheeks.

“You go on upstairs now. You’re talking nonsense.” Mrs. Marshall wrapped up the last piece of pecan pie and tucked it into his saddlebag.

Watching her, Alexander felt an odd surge of emotion. Everything in this woman’s life had changed drastically, yet she still worried whether he would marry a nice girl.

Emily Harrison was a nice girl, despite the fact she’d been born north of the Mason–Dixon line. Her words at breakfast yesterday morning kept running through his mind, providing another measure of contentment. She had actually defended him—defended the Wraith, at any rate.
“His aim is only to feed and clothe the hungry Army
of the Shenandoah and supply medicine to the field hospitals.” “When he commandeered a train from Washington, the ladies aboard stated he behaved like a true gentleman.”
A true gentleman. He smiled at Emily’s conclusion. Would she be so eager to save the Wraith from the hangman’s noose if she knew his true identity?

Alexander kissed his aunt’s papery cheek, shook his uncle’s hand, and then climbed the stairs to the third floor. After stretching out on his narrow bed, he listened to the men’s banter through the open window. Soon the garden below and hallway of guestrooms quieted as men fell into deep, long-overdue sleep. But he couldn’t shake thoughts of Emily from his mind.

You have given your heart to the enemy, Miss Harrison.

But then again, so have I.

S
IXTEEN

E
mily enjoyed no dreams the night she returned from the Thompsons’, pleasant or otherwise. The ride from the river ford where the young woman crossed into Maryland had been tortuous. Without a moon to light her way, she had gotten lost twice and hadn’t arrived back at Hunt Farms until late morning. She left the two horses in the brooding shed as instructed and walked the distance to the house sore and famished.

“There you are! I thought you would never get back.” Lila popped up from the hedges into Emily’s path with her usual zeal. “I had to tell so many lies as to why you weren’t at breakfast. I don’t like bearing false witness.”

“I’m sorry, Lila. I made a wrong turn and ended up in Bluemont. Let me rest for a few hours. I’m too exhausted to talk.” Stepping around her friend, she entered the warm kitchen.

“No, first you need to eat.” Lila pulled a linen napkin from a plate of sandwiches on the table.

“I’ll take one up to my room, but don’t let me sleep more than a couple of hours.” A yawn muffled her words. Emily headed up the back stairs eating her sandwich with eyelids that refused to stay open. Inside her room, she stripped off her sweaty dress and dropped it on the floor. Slipping between her silk sheets, she fell instantly to sleep. When she awoke, it took her several moments to regain her bearings. Someone had drawn the curtains and set out a fresh basin of water and stack of towels.

Jumping out of bed, Emily splashed water on her skin until her senses returned. Then she scrubbed every bit of road dust from her face and arms.

Without knocking, Lila marched into the room with another ewer.
“I was just about to shake you.” Peering at the dirty water, Lila threw it out the window and refilled the basin from her pitcher.

“Why didn’t you check if someone stood below on the lawn?” Emily lowered her face into the cool water.

“No one is about this time of day.” Lila leaned one hip against the bedpost. “When will you tell me what happened?”

“What I will tell you is how wonderful this feels.” Emily pressed a soft towel to her face. Then she recounted an abbreviated version of Mrs. Thompson and the pregnant runaway, including the plot to capture the Wraith in a trap. “Now I must find Alexander. Time is of the essence.”

Lila dug her hands into her apron pockets. “Mr. Hunt isn’t here. I saw him ride out a few hours ago.”

It took Emily a moment to absorb the news. Then her knees buckled and she collapsed on the polished bedroom floor. Without hesitation, Lila hauled her to her feet. “Oh, Lila, how long did you let me sleep?” Emily finished drying off and tossed the towel toward the hamper. “If I don’t stop him, Alexander will walk right into a trap.”

“That William—he never breathed a word about this. He always helps Mr. Hunt cover his tracks.” Lila yanked a fresh dress from the wardrobe.

Emily shimmied into clean clothes without bothering with a corset. “I must find Mr. Marshall’s home in Middleburg to warn him.”

Lila fumed as she pacing the floor. “William knows the way. He’s gone there many times with Mr. Hunt—”

“I must see William at once!” Emily pulled on her boots and sprinted toward the balcony door.

“What should I tell Mrs. Bennington?” asked Lila, following close behind on Emily’s heels.

“Make up any tale you wish after I’m gone. You should be getting good at it by now.”

Although William tried everything in his power to dissuade her, Emily refused to listen. The two of them rode hard to Middleburg, arriving a little after midnight. As they stood on the street behind the Marshall mansion, holding the reins of their lathered horses, they considered their next move. The stillness of the neighborhood offered hope she wasn’t too late. “Thank you, William, for accompanying me. I never would have found Mr. Marshall’s home on my own.”

“Mr. Alexander ain’t gonna be happy about you coming.”

“You let me worry about Mr. Alexander. He and his men are in danger. The Union cavalry knows about this house.”

“I’ll go speak to him while you wait here. We don’t know what we’ll find beyond that gate.”

“No, I will do this. Alexander will ask how I came by this information. I must tell him the truth. I must tell him everything.”

“Yes, miss, I’d say it’s time.” Worry creased William’s brow. “You gonna tell him what you were doing in Upperville?”

Emily’s head snapped around. “What do you know about Upperville?”

“I know what you were doing there. Lila told me all about the Underground Railroad.”

“Lila told you? The more people who know, the less safe the route will be.”

William crossed his arms. “You think I would blab about that? But I didn’t give Lila much choice. When I saw you leave with an extra horse, I was all set to follow you. She stopped me and told me where you were going. When people are fond of each other like me and Lila, they tell each other the truth.”

The implication was as subtle as a red hat on a mule. “I know that…or at least I’m figuring it out. That’s why I’m going inside, so let’s stop arguing.”

“No need to argue. We’re both going, Miss Harrison.” After William tied their horses across the street, they entered the garden through an arched gate. Emily stayed close to him, trying not to make noise on the stone path. However, they hadn’t gone ten paces when the
click
of
a gun being cocked stopped them cold. With weapons drawn, Confederate rangers quickly surrounded them. Others who’d been asleep under the trees staggered up from their bedrolls.

“Well, look who we have. What do you suppose a Yankee schoolmarm is doing here?”

Emily froze at the voice of Nathan Smith.

Unseen thus far, William stepped into the moonlight. “It’s me, Captain Smith, William—valet to Mr. Alexander. I need to speak to him right away.”

“I know who you are,” snapped Smith. “What’s this about? Why have you brought this woman here?” He glared at Emily with ill-concealed contempt.

“It’s more like she brought me, sir.” William added an uneasy laugh. “She wants to talk to Mr. Alexander. Says it’s personal in nature.” Taking Emily’s elbow, he tried to lead her from the circle of soldiers.

“Hold up there. How dare you turn your back on me? State your business. Then I’ll decide whether it’s important enough to tell Colonel Hunt in the morning.” The icy tone of his voice brooked no further discussion.

“Begging your pardon, sir. If you’ll give me a minute to explain.” William took a step closer to Smith, intervening dangerously.

Seizing her opportunity, Emily bolted down the path and disappeared into the dark.

“Stop that woman and bring her to me!” shouted Smith.

With surprising courage she sprinted up the steps before the soldiers could give chase. Once she was inside the house, she ran smack into an ancient servant with a full white beard and a completely bald head.

“
Ouff.
Who are you, missy? Why are you calling on the Marshall House at this hour?” With indignation, the butler tugged down the hem of his waistcoat.

“I’m Emily Harrison,” she replied quickly, knowing her name would mean nothing to him. “I must speak with Mr. Alexander Hunt at once.”

The elderly man stared, bewildered. “Why did you call at the back door, Miss Harrison, and at such an indecent hour? If you come back tomorrow at eight o’clock, you can talk to the Marshalls and Mr. Hunt at breakfast.”

Exasperated, she grabbed the butler’s thin shoulders. “This is urgent! Where is Mr. Hunt?” Her voice rose in agitation. Overhead, she heard people stirring as they awakened.

The butler recoiled. A strange white woman placing her hands on him was more than he could handle. “Master Hunt sleeps on the third floor, the first room at the top of the steps.”

“Lock the door. Don’t let those soldiers inside.” Emily ran headlong through the house and up the stairs as though familiar with the mansion. Heavy boots sounded on the porch along with men’s angry voices. She didn’t slow down until she reached the top of the third flight, although it felt as though her side might split open. When she threw open the first door on the left, she heard a gun cock for the second time that night.

“Emily! What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” Alexander sprang from the bed. With his suspenders down and his chest bare, he stepped in front of a soldier dozing in a chair. “Put that away.” He pushed the gun barrel to the side.

“As you wish, Colonel,” said the guard, rising clumsily to his feet. He tucked the weapon into the waistband of his trousers.