The Quaker and the Rebel Read online

  She had to tell him he wasn’t an ogre but the most attractive man she’d ever met.

  Maybe she would also mention she’d been narrow minded and judgmental.

  She might even muster the courage to tell him the truth—that she loved him.

  With her blood pounding in her ears, she tried to slide open the heavy door. It barely moved two inches, but it was enough for her to see inside. A single lantern hanging from a low rafter provided poor illumination. Alexander wasn’t alone after all but deep in conversation with his trusted friend and valet, William. Neither man had heard the door open.

  Dread inched up her spine as she craned her neck to listen. Shivering as her rain-soaked shawl hugged her body, Emily couldn’t hear a word they said. But what she saw spoke volumes. As he spoke, Alexander donned the uniform coat of an officer—the memento of a long-dead friend from his childhood, with its double row of gold buttons, stripes on the sleeves, and stars at the collar. Next he strapped on a sword and scabbard and pulled on long buckskin gloves. Realization struck her like a mule kick. Alexander was a colonel in the Confederate cavalry, not a gentleman farmer who remained safe while his friends and neighbors marched off to fight and die. Yet the biggest surprise was yet to come. As cold rain sheeted off the barn eaves and ran down her back, Emily watched William open a scarlet-lined cape for Alexander and then hand him a wide-brimmed, plumed hat. As he mounted a huge white stallion, she saw that he wore no holster or pistol.

  Alexander wasn’t just a Rebel officer, but the notorious Gray Wraith. This was the man who had foiled countless Union maneuvers to deliver clothing, food, and medical supplies to the Army of the Shenandoah. He was the one who provided Confederate infantry with desperately needed shoes and blankets to separate themselves from the cold ground. This man had transferred thousands of dollars from the Union to the Confederate Treasury without even carrying a firearm. This information should have made a dyed-in-the-wool Yankee very angry, but somehow the knowledge made Emily love him all the more.

  She jumped back just as the barn door swung wide. Alexander rode out and disappeared into the rainy night. Blessedly, neither man noticed her behind the door clutching her shawl, trying not to shiver to death. No one suspected that a Unionist had learned the truth. Emily waited until certain William had returned to his quarters before creeping back to hers.

  Sleep would come no easier now. She hadn’t done what she’d set out to do. She’d made no late night confessions to the man she loved. And the knowledge of Alexander’s true identity didn’t change her heart one bit. They were both living counterfeit lives.

  FIFTEEN

  Emily, wake up.” Lila shook her gently. “Why is your nightgown wet?” She picked up the cast-off garment from the floor.

  “I fell in the river. Go away, Lila. It can’t possibly be time to get up yet.” Emily buried her head deeper under the quilt to protect her eyes from the streaming sunlight.

  “The river? You walked all the way to the Shenandoah River in your nightgown? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Yes. If that is what you came to ask me, you have your answer.” Emily gripped the edge of the covers tightly as Lila pulled them from the bottom of the bed.

  “I already knew that. The reason I came is to get you up. I thought Yankees were supposed to be industrious, while we Southerners were the lazy ones.”

  “You heard wrong and have it backward.” Emily’s words sounded muffled from under the feather pillow.

  Lila stared at the lumpy form beneath the quilts with arms akimbo. “I’m out of insults to raise your dander, so I’ll try a different approach.” She plopped down on the bed. “If you tell me what you did with Mr. Hunt after the ball, I’ll tell you about the kiss I got from William.” Lila bounced up and down on the edge.

  Emily pushed away the pillow and sat up, not pleased in the least. “Lila Amite, I have no desire to admit to what we did that night. A lady does not discuss delicate matters. You’ll have to find out for yourself when you grow up.”

  “When I’m all grown up like you? Is that why you went searching for him last night and fell in the river?” Lila sashayed away from the bed with exaggerated drama.

  “How do you know I looked for him last night? Lila, you must promise you won’t speak of my sneaking out. Not to William, not to anyone.” She jumped out of bed and caught the young woman by her shoulders. “It’s of upmost importance.”

  “Your reputation is safe from my wagging tongue. Now get yourself down to breakfast.” Lila tapped her nose with a finger, as though remembering something. “Mr. Alexander will be there. I saw him return this morning while helping in the kitchen.”

  Emily flew to the wardrobe. “Why didn’t you say so earlier, you goose?”

  “Maybe I had something—or someone—on my mind.” Lila filled a porcelain cup with coffee from the carafe on a tray. “I’ll set this next to the tub and return later to help you dress.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself. I’m not wearing a corset today or anything else that must be laced up. Enough is enough.”

  “Suit yourself. At least you’re still skinny.” Lila left shaking her head with damp nightgown in hand.

  Emily bathed, donned her peach calico dress, and was downstairs in thirty minutes—a record time for her. “Good morning, everyone.” She smiled as she entered the dining room. “Please forgive my tardiness.”

  Dr. Bennington, Mr. Hunt, and Alexander stood as she reached the table. Mrs. Hunt and Mrs. Bennington were already at their usual places. Fortunately, the lingering guests had finally all gone home.

  “You are not tardy, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennington. “We’ve just started. It was a good morning to sleep in.”

  “I trust you slept well, Miss Harrison,” said Alexander with a wink. Deep lines creased his forehead, and blue-black smudges beneath his eyes indicated he’d had no rest the previous night. His tousled hair was badly in need of a haircut, while a two-day-old beard darkened his cheeks.

  Studying him over the rim of her cup, Emily thought he looked wonderful. A surge of electricity snaked up her spine even as her stomach flip-flopped. With a face so rakishly handsome, she yearned to lean across the table and kiss him—in front of the Benningtons and his parents. Only the fear of overturning a candelabra and burning down the house kept her seated. “I slept blissfully well,” she lied.

  “Breakfast, Miss Harrison?” Joshua presented two platters at her side.

  “Everything looks wonderful, thank you.” Despite the abundant array, she took only a small amount of eggs, a slice of ham, and one piece of toast. She declined the potatoes with onions, fried tomatoes, and poached pears.

  “Is something wrong, Miss Harrison?” Alexander asked. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

  “I’m feeling fine, sir. Why do you ask?” She ate a dainty forkful of eggs.

  “I’m concerned about your paltry amount of breakfast. The thing I appreciate about Yankee women is that they know how to enjoy a good meal.” Alexander beamed at her.

  His uncle and father laughed, his mother frowned, and Aunt Augusta spoke in an admonishing tone. “Alexander, are you nettling Emily already?” Mrs. Bennington had assumed the formidable role of Emily’s protector in the alien land.

  “I am, Aunt Augusta. She had the pluck to escape during the ball without giving me a single good night kiss. After she had promised.” He grinned as though he finished the last of the bonbons.

  Emily nearly choked on her dry toast. How could he tease her after they had shared many garden kisses, especially in front of his parents? She shot him a glare that had little effect.

  “Why would Emily wish to kiss you? She struck me as having far more sense than that.” Mrs. Hunt lifted her coffee cup in salute.

  Alexander pushed away his plate. “A promise is a promise, and I intend to hold Miss Harrison to hers.”

  “Enough talk of kisses,” said Mr. Hunt. “That Fredericksburg horse broker gave me a copy of the Washington Post yesterday. Listen to this ma
rvelous article about the Gray Wraith. It describes his rangers as ‘such intangible demons and devils that when they scatter into the mountains, the tracks of their horses disappear into the mist.’ ” He laughed wryly. “The Yankees are terrified of the man. One news story reported him having dinner with war correspondents at the Henry House in Alexandria wearing a disguise. He supposedly paid for everyone’s meal and then gave them each a box of cigars. Another story has him in Culpeper the very same day cutting up the Warrenton railroad.”

  “Maybe he is a ghost if he’s capable of being in two places at the same time,” mused Mrs. Hunt.

  “Perhaps so, my dear. In a third story he’s wreaking havoc at another location. They reported he raided Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, where he captured several hundred cattle and drove them back into Virginia as though this were the Great Plains.” Everyone burst out laughing. Everyone that is, but Emily.

  “Sounds like the Wraith is planning quite a barbecue,” drawled Mrs. Hunt. “I do hope we receive an invitation.”

  Emily peeked at Alexander. An expression of amusement had lifted the corners of his mouth. He didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable with their topic of conversation.

  “Oh, they will catch up with him eventually.” James scooped more eggs from the platter onto his plate. “And when they do, they will hang him. Considering what the rangers have stolen, the Union cavalry are mad as hornets. The Wraith has made the Yankee generals appear mighty foolish on more than one occasion.”

  “Hang him?” Emily was unable to keep quiet another moment. “Why would they do that? I read that he’s never taken another life, and he doesn’t even carry a gun. When he commandeered a train from Washington, the ladies aboard stated he behaved like a true gentleman.” Inhaling a breath, she clamped her mouth shut.

  The three Hunts and two Benningtons were all staring at her.

  “If I didn’t know better,” said Dr. Bennington with great mirth. “I would swear our Miss Harrison has become smitten with the legendary Wraith.”

  “The North might as well concede defeat now if their women start falling at the man’s feet. It’s bad enough that Southern ladies fall asleep with visions of a caped cavalier swooping into their bedrooms at night.” Mr. Hunt fluttered his arms in batlike fashion.

  “James, that is not true. I could never tolerate a man who swoops.” His wife gently patted his hand.

  Mr. Hunt smiled at her fondly. “For now my place in your heart is safe.”

  Emily couldn’t let the matter drop. “But his aim is only to feed and clothe the hungry Army of the Shenandoah and supply medicine to the field hospitals. With the Union blockade of the ports, little has gotten through. Patients and soldiers are suffering desperately.”

  “That is all well and good, Miss Harrison, but they will still hang him if given the opportunity. This story reports he relieved a Yankee paymaster of one hundred seventy-three thousand in greenbacks and turned the money over to Jefferson Davis. That’s quite different than food and medicine. If they don’t hang him, they’ll surely ship him to the worst prison in the North. They have commissioned special units of cavalry to do nothing else but hunt down the Wraith and his rangers. It seems to be only a matter of time.” Mr. Hunt folded the newspaper and set it aside.

  “Do you consider him an American Robin Hood, Emily?” asked Alexander, joining the conversation. “No wonder you ran away without giving me a single kiss. You’re smitten with a phantom. I’m sure if you met the man, you would find him dirty and utterly disreputable.” He leaned back in his chair and watched her from across the table. “I’ve read that he’s crawling with lice.”

  “Alexander, that is enough!” scolded his mother. “What’s gotten into you? You bait poor Miss Harrison mercilessly. Why wouldn’t she fall in love with a ghost when men her own age behave like boors? Lice. I declare.”

  Emily had enough of the topic and rose unsteadily to her feet. “I assure you that I am not in love with any ghost.” Her voice cracked. “If you’ll all excuse me, I must catch up with my correspondence.” She nodded politely at the Benningtons and left the room on shaky legs.

  She so desperately wanted to say I am in love with your son, Mrs. Hunt.

  But she hadn’t. Another opportunity lost. Now she might never get the chance again. He had left last night on one of his late night forays. Now his long periods of absence made sense. There wasn’t another woman. The Grand Lady of the South was Emily’s competition, and she could demand the greatest sacrifice of all. Alexander had told Emily that he loved her, but what did that mean during a war that refused to end? According to newspapers, a net was dropping on the rangers of the Shenandoah Valley. The powerful Union Army, the same that Matthew had died for, was closing in on the man responsible for supplying the Rebels with so much. The same man she was in love with. And there wasn’t a thing she could do but bide her time.

  “Pssst, Miss Harrison.” A voice called from the gnarly tree at the edge of the upper gallery. Emily stood but saw no one. Left with her book and tea, she had dosed off in the chair after Mrs. Bennington and Mrs. Hunt had retired to their rooms for their customary naps.

  “Miss Harrison.” The small voice of a child drew her close. A very dark boy had climbed up the crepe myrtle and clung precariously to a thin, spiny limb. He couldn’t have been more than eight with close-clipped hair and luminous black eyes.

  “You’re going to break your neck, young man. What are you doing up here?”

  “I got a message for you, miss. Not ’spose to tell it to no one else.” The thick waxy leaves and shiny clusters of berries hid his location from anyone passing below.

  Emily heard the branch creak ominously. “What message? Tell me quickly and then get down before you fall.”

  “The wind blows from the south today. You’re ’spose to come to Upperville to the Thompson Farm on the Little River Turnpike as soon as you can. Tonight best of all, miss.”

  She knew instinctively what this meant and shuddered. After what she just learned, she needed time to sort things out. “It must be tonight?” Emily wondered how much this child knew about her involvement in the Underground Railroad.

  He nodded. “What say you? I got to get back to my ma. She’s delivering honey to Miz Beatrice.” The branch creaked again under his weight.

  She knew there was no time to question him further. “Tell your mama I will come.”

  The child climbed down and disappeared into the cool subterranean kitchen. Emily stood for several moments pondering her course of action. I must find Lila. She will know what to do.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t. Lila wasn’t eager to give advice that could put Emily in danger. Lila had heard that a pregnant runaway was hidden in the Thompson root cellar, which was sixty miles from the Pennsylvania state line. The woman had left a master who spent his days in an alcoholic haze after his wife and children died from cholera last spring. The rest of the slaves had already run off, but her pregnancy had prevented her from joining them. Now the master vented his rage on the few slaves left on the dilapidated plantation. She had no choice but to leave to protect the life of her unborn child. Lila’s heart ached for the woman, but her heart these days belonged to William. And he was very much against Lila helping on the Underground Railroad. The authorities would treat a free black woman harsher than a white Yankee if she were caught. To her relief, William watched her comings and goings like a hawk since the unfortunate encounter with Nathan Smith.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Lila as the two women walked toward the Shenandoah River in the cool breeze of late afternoon.

  “I must go and help her.” Emily answered without much enthusiasm. “The woman wishes to give birth where her child will be born free. We won’t let her get caught and returned to a cruel master after she’s come this far. I’ll slip out tonight and take her to the Potomac, where she can cross into Maryland. She’ll be that much closer to Pennsylvania.” Details popped into her mind, one by one. “But I can’t think of a reas
on to pay a social call in Upperville. It’s too close to Federal lines. The Hunts would never let me go.”

  Alexander…would he still profess his love if he knew what I was up to?

  “If you’re going then I am too.” Lila spoke with determination.

  “No, you’re not.” Emily’s tone brooked no discussion. “I’ll ride to the Thompson farm with an extra horse and one of your dresses for the runaway. We’ll have to reach the crossing by dawn. If we’re stopped, I’ll say she’s my maid and we’re fetching the doctor for Mrs. Thompson. How could I explain having two maids along? Then I’ll ride back here and pray I’m not seen returning at that hour—with an extra horse, no less.” The plan, for whatever it was worth, knitted together while they walked in fading sunlight.

  “Leave the horses in the brooding shed. I’ll have Jack fetch them back to the main barn later. And I’ll take care of distracting the family with a little help from William.”

  “Thank you.” Emily wrapped her arms around Lila’s shoulders. “Say a prayer for the runaway—and another for me.”

  Lila hugged her long and hard. “I’ll be saying more than one. You can count on that.”

  Emily ate dinner with the Hunts and Benningtons that evening as usual. Alexander was absent. For this small grace, she was grateful. Considering their breakfast conversation, his parents knew nothing about Alexander’s late night activities. And with her mission to rescue a pregnant runaway ahead of her, Emily was afraid to speak in fear of revealing one of her many secrets. “What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” One of her mother’s pet expressions ran through her mind over and over. What hope did their love have when lives were built on lies and deception? With a heart heavy with shame, Emily tried to focus on the dinner conversation.