The Velvet Shadow (39 page)

Flanna listened to the news with a rising feeling of dismay. Orders from General George McClellan arrived before her permission to depart for Port Royal. In response to Lincoln’s repeated urgings for action, on March 17 McClellan sent his troops the following order, which was read in every camp: “I will bring you now face to face with the Rebels. I am to watch over you as a parent over his children, and you may know that your general loves you from the depths of his heart. It shall be my care…to gain success with the least possible loss.”

General Montgomery Meigs organized a great flotilla, and over the next three weeks the amassed Army of the Potomac was ferried to Fortress Monroe, located at the tip of the York-James Peninsula in
Virginia. Over the seven months of his command, McClellan had done little but assemble an army, but what an army! Flanna listened in amazement as Sergeant Marvin told Company M that 121,500 men, 14,000 horses, 1,150 wagons, 44 batteries of artillery, 74 ambulances, pontoon bridges, tons of provisions, tents, and telegraph wire would be transported southward.

Flanna and Charity listened to the announcement with mixed emotions. Flanna was disappointed that the trip to Port Royal had not yet materialized, but at least they were moving southward! Soon they’d be in Virginia, and if they got close to Richmond, she and Charity might be able to slip away with very little trouble.

The thought of impending battle did not concern her much, for McClellan had proved that he was unwilling to fight. A master of preparation, organization, and drill, he seemed to lack the heart for sending men into dangerous situations. She worried far more about running away and becoming lost in the woods than she did about another battle.

She had expected Alden to approach her in Maryland with some excuse to prevent her from moving out with the regiment, but he did not. She was not surprised, then, when he sought her out aboard the ship that carried them down the Potomac and into Chesapeake Bay.

She and Charity were standing at the rail between Rufus and Paddy O’Neil, when Alden approached from behind. “Excuse me, boys.” His voice cut through their soft nighttime conversation. “I wonder if I might have a word with Private O’Connor.”

O’Neil and Crydenwise tugged on the brims of their caps and moved away, probably thinking that the major had come to deliver some sort of rebuke. Flanna dismissed Charity with a downward glance, half-afraid her messmates were right, but Alden merely stepped into the empty space beside her and stared over the railing, watching the moonlight spread silvery ripples across the dark surface of the river.

A creeping uneasiness rose in Flanna’s heart. Why had he come, if not to share bad news? Had something happened to Roger? She
hadn’t seen him in days, and hadn’t spoken to him since that terrible day in Alden’s tent.

“Is something wrong? If there is trouble, just tell me, please.”

“Trouble?” His mouth twisted in something not quite a smile. He leaned out over the railing of the ship, staring at the coastline, the wind catching his words so that Flanna had to bend forward to hear him. “What could possibly be wrong? I promised to see you safely to Charleston, but I am leading you into the wilderness instead. I promised Roger I’d protect you, and I’ll be lucky if I can even find you once we land in Virginia.” He turned and looked at her, his blue eyes piercing the distance between them. “I’m sorry, Flanna, that I failed you. I tried everything I could think of short of going AWOL and delivering you to Charleston myself. I even prayed you’d take sick and have to remain behind in the hospital.”

“Not a very nice prayer, Major.”

“I was desperate.” His gaze met hers, and she felt her heart turn over in response. “One night I nearly came to your tent to accuse you of falling asleep on guard duty, or some such thing, so you’d face a court martial, anything to keep you from this venture.”

“You could have simply told Colonel Farnham the truth.”

“No, I couldn’t have. I asked you to trust me…and I couldn’t betray that trust.”

She cleared her throat, pretending not to be affected by this unexpected proof of his affection—no, she corrected herself, his
loyalty
. His affection resided with Miss Nell Scott, who had remained in Boston like a good girl.

She would have patted his arm in gratitude, but remembered the men milling around them and chose to move a half-step closer instead. “Major Haynes,” she said, gazing into the thickening night, “do not feel discouraged. I know you tried, and I know you want me safe. But I have come to believe that we are all in God’s hands.” She lifted her eyes to the sky, where the stars blazed like gems in a night as cold as the grave. “Look there.” She pointed upward. “Such beauty, such brightness, and on such a night! We are on our way to do battle, but God
still works among us. I want to go home, yes, but I am happy that God is using me here. I believe I am where I am supposed to be.”

“Still, I worry,” he said, with a creditable attempt at coolness, marred only by the thickness of his voice. “John Magruder is the Confederate general dug in at Yorktown. He is a brave man, but more than that, he is clever.”

“You know him?”

Alden nodded. “He fought with my father in the Mexican War. He’s a Virginian with expensive tastes, and an amateur actor besides.” A trace of laughter lined his voice. “Once, during the Mexican War, he staged a performance of
Othello
. Ulysses S. Grant, dressed in crinolines, tried out for the part of Desdemona.”

Flanna stifled the sudden urge to giggle by rubbing a finger hard over her lips. She’d never heard of Grant, but the thought of a man in crinolines was enough to make her titter with laughter.

Alden’s smile faded. “McClellan believes there are a hundred thousand Rebels dug in at Yorktown, but I’d be surprised if there are even ten thousand. Remember the Quaker guns the Rebs posted outside Washington? I’d be surprised if there aren’t a hundred more at Yorktown, all painted to make us think there’s a huge army down there.”

A spasm of panic shot across Flanna’s body like the trilling of an alarm bell. Her brother might well be at Yorktown, along with her cousins!

“So what if this Magruder is just being clever?” She looked up at him with an effort. “If McClellan thinks there are ten thousand men, so be it. He won’t fight, and we’ll be safe.”

“Think about it.” Alden’s mellow baritone simmered with barely checked passion. “If McClellan hesitates, we will sit out in the spring rain for weeks. The men will grow tired and bored; morale will suffer. Many will take sick in the damp weather, and we’ll lose more men to fever and typhoid than we would lose in battle. Our provisions will dwindle. If the Rebs manage to cut us off, we’ll be eating squirrel and rabbit, if we’re lucky enough to find them.”

Flanna stood silent, her thoughts racing as Alden gestured broadly over the water. “The men aboard this ship want the war to be finished so they can go home to their wives and children and farms! The more McClellan hesitates, the more heartsick his army becomes. He talks about loving his men like children, but you can ruin a child with kindness!”

He fell silent, seemingly exhausted with the fervency of his feelings. Flanna bit her lip, realizing that her own concerns and desires seemed insignificant compared to those facing the men who led this army.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her words sounding mild and flimsy in the cool air. “Of course you’re right, Alden. I didn’t think. I must seem awfully foolish sometimes.”

“Don’t do that!” A swift shadow of anger swept across his face. “Don’t demean yourself! You are not foolish. You are a sight more intelligent than half the men on this boat, but you allow others to push you around just because”—he halted suddenly, remembering where he was, and lowered his voice to whisper in her ear—“just because they’re men!”

Totally bewildered by his behavior, Flanna stepped back. “No one pushes me around!”

“Oh no?” He laughed softly, his vivid blue eyes glittering. “What about that scene I witnessed at Alexandria Hospital? You were taking care of that young soldier, yet when the doctor came, you retreated like a scolded schoolgirl!”

“He was a doctor.” Flanna pressed her fingertips to her temple; it was difficult to think straight when standing so close to Alden.

“You’re a doctor.”

“But he didn’t know that.”

“You could have told him.”

“No, I couldn’t.” She wavered, trying to understand his point. “Alden, you know I can’t tell anyone.”

“Being a doctor has nothing to do with your secret.” He faced her now, and she could see no lingering gleam of amusement in his
black-lashed eyes. “Private O’Connor, you must learn to speak up for yourself. God gave you a brain—use it. He gave you a tongue, and I’ve heard you use it to good effect when you’re confronted by a strong-willed woman like my mother. So why do you sheathe all your common sense when confronted with a difficult man?”

She stepped back, momentarily stunned. What did he know of the confrontations she’d faced? She once sat before an entire examining board and spoke her mind; she grew up with a big brother and seven rambunctious cousins, daring them to best her in all sorts of verbal and physical games. And yet—

Her mind came to an abrupt halt, as if hitting a wall. Hadn’t Mammy and Aunt Marsali taught her how to respond to men? On her fifteenth birthday, they had called her into the house and confronted her in her bedroom. There she learned lessons about what proper ladies could and could not do. “Miss Flanna, you can’t be arguin’ with young men no more,” Mammy had said. “You gots to hide your book learning and that sharp tongue.”

“Men are like the earth, and we are like the moon,” Aunt Marsali added. “They think there is only one side of us because that is all they see—and sometimes you must allow them to believe that, Flanna. For when a woman’s will is as strong as the man’s who wants to govern her, half her strength must be dedicated to concealment.”

Flanna absorbed those lessons without question. She was taught—and she believed—that men ought to assume authority over women, for a woman’s world centered on her family. A woman did not need to vote or express her opinion in mixed company, for she ruled her husband through his heart, and he spoke for her. According to everything Flanna had been taught, when a woman was confronted with a difficult man, she had no choice but to demur, for her husband would surely take up her case.

But Flanna had no husband yet. No father or brother at hand to help. No one but Roger, who so disapproved of her actions that he had been avoiding her, and Alden, whose very glance unsettled her so much that every coherent thought flew out of her head.

She drew in a breath, searching for words that would not come. “You don’t understand.” She clutched at the ship’s rail as if it were the only solid reality in a tilting world. “You’re a man; you’ve always been a man. I was trained to be…something else.”

“Why?” His voice was tender now, his look gentle and understanding. “Why would anyone tell you to be anything other than what you are? Dr. O’Connor, you are a wonder.”

He took a quick breath as if he would say more, then set his jaw and returned his gaze toward the shoreline. Flanna said nothing, but stood beside him, her heart lifting with the first words of honest encouragement she’d heard in months.