CHAPTER 3
The Colonel sat in an ornate wingback chair. A fire blazed away in the large fireplace to his right. The room was quite except for the occasional settling of the logs resting on the firegrate and the soft tinkling of ice in the glass of whiskey that he held casually in one hand. The other hand held a large cigar which the man brought to his full lips, slowly exhaling the smoke in tiny rings. He was an old man, he silently mused, fighting in a young man’s war. He could go home, retire his commission, but he felt his duty was clear. He would not let some beaurocrat in Washington dictate how he could run his life, his farm. Heritage and history, to him they meant something almost sacred. He took another languid pull on his cigar as he waited for his companion to meet him at the appointed hour.
He didn’t have long to wait. Just as the ornately carved mahogany inlaid oak door swung open on silent hinges, the clock in the hall struck the hour. The sound gently reverberated off the high ceiling, then became muffled as the door closed once again. The Colonel rose from his seat, placing his whiskey on the small table next to the chair. The light in the room was dim, so he stepped to the side to allow the light from the fireplace to fall upon the woman who had just entered.
“Emma, how are you my dear?” His thick southern accent filled the air, hanging there, dripping. A smile crossed his face, causing his cheeks to pop out from behind his enormous mustache. He absently straightened his gray surcoat, smoothing down the doehide gloves that were tucked into his belt. Even though in his heart he knew he was using this woman, just another tool in the war effort, he found himself drawn to her. His wife had not ever made him feel what this woman had, he genuinely liked her. He admired her bravery, and although he hated to admit it, he needed this woman. Not that she would ever let his flirtations get him anywhere. But that was their game, and they both seemed to enjoy it.
Emma walked over to the wet bar that was built into one of the grand bookcases that were built into the wall. Pouring herself some brandy, she gave an inquiring look to the Colonel, to which he shook his head no, his drink was not in need of refilling. Her silence filled the room in a way that was different than before she had entered. Her silence was profound, whereas before, it was just emptiness.
“You really didn’t take heed of my last warning Colonel.” Her voice cutting through the silence like a hot knife through fresh churned butter. She was in a foul mood already, from having to travel all the way from the Union camp to Fredricksburg in the pouring rain. “That damned Senator from Illinois had the information you needed and you ignored it. I’m not sure you appreciate the trouble I went through to get that. If you had passed the information along properly, perhaps the Northern troops wouldn’t now hold such a desired position.” She baited him, wanted him off guard. She didn’t want another assignment. She longed for a more peaceful life. Each day was a constant danger. Emma walked the edge of a knife, always hoping that this old, blowhard of an officer wouldn’t find out that things had gone exactly as she had wanted them to go at that fort.
The Colonel began turning beet red, making his already large face seem even larger. How dare this *woman* dress him down in such a manner! She, who knew nothing of battlefield tactics or conditions! “Tilghman delayed those damn Yanks as long as possible on that river.” He was sputtering, and almost ranting, but he kept to it. “We felt sure they wouldn’t get through in time to assist those attacking Fort Henry. And for you’re information, *Mrs. Collingsworth,* the papers you acquired were most certainly passed along in the proper manner. It was no one persons’ fault that the damn messenger got shot in the leg, slowing his arrival. But even with all that, we knew of the enemies movement, just not when.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to elaborate to this woman. She was a spy, after all. Necessary, but expendable. So few women wanted the position, but they were best suited for the job, given mens views on how women were to be treated and thought of. Women on the whole, as a spy, went unnoticed. He gave a mental hrummph as he thought how silly it would be not to notice this enchanting, albeit aggravating female.
“Be that as it may, my dear Colonel, it is in the past. The future is what we must now think about. There is a rather large encampment nearby, do you think they are a problem?” The colonel saw the wisdom in the woman’s words. Taking a deep drink of his whiskey, he let the head of steam he was building up fade away. No use crying over spilt milk, he thought, just call the cat in to clean it up! “No moreso than usual. But there is quite alot of blue out there. Not to worry, though. The force we have moving up more than outnumbers them.”
Emma moved across the room, leaning slightly on a desk cluttered with papers. She glanced down at them, picking one up and scanning it idly. Hmm, she thought to herself, have to talk to the girls about clothing purchases, too many more torn corsets and she’d be in the poor house. “That doesn’t mean much, you’ve seen what they can do. They can fight like demons.” They had this discussion before, and she really hoped he would just let it drop. To her surprise, he did just that. “God is on our side, Emma, His will be done.” He placed his glass back on the table and walked over to retrieve the large cloak he had used to cover himself while sneaking into Fredricksburg. He decided it left a bad taste in his mouth that he had to sneak in and out of a southern city, but such things happen in wartime.
He had left his wide brimmed officers cap behind, opting for an old beat up brown hat that he tugged down over his face. He flung the cloak over his shoulders and turned back toward the madame of the house. She walked over to him, allowing her hand to be taken. “My dear, one last thing. Look into the action near Kelly’s Ford if you could, there’ve been rumors of northern buildup. Seems ol’ Johnny Blue likes that area a bit. Don’t want them getting too attached to it. And remember, it won’t be long before the Union of Confederate States stand as a country unto themselves.” “May the South rise and overcome, Colonel.” With that, the man peered out into the hall, assuring that all was clear, and with a silence that belied his ample frame, stole out of the building, into the night.
Emma stood in the entrance hall of the large building. Fully one third of it had been blown to pieces in the attack last year on the city. Her parlor, dining room, and part of the servants’ quarters had been either entirely lost, or damaged to the point of needing extensive repair. Thinking back to the attack on the city in December of last year, she was grateful that they had found other lodgings for the wounded. For two months her house had been refuge to the injured and dying soldiers, both blue and gray alike. She would never forget that time, cannon fire all around, buildings burning, smoke all through the city, choking, inviting oblivion. She had come back to the building, knowing she was putting herself in danger, but had remembered paperwork that needed to be destroyed, lest it fall into the hands of the enemy. Women had gone from door to door, banging, seeking supplies, desperate. She was just slipping out of the building, when they were upon her, begging, pleading, and somehow she had given in. Allowed them to use her home, or more accurately, what was left of it, she was still scrubbing the floors to this day, months later. The stains would never come out.
Hearing footsteps behind her, she returned from her memories, and turned to meet the warm brown eyes of Flo, the cook. Her dark skin contrasted sharply with the white outfit she wore, and there was concern in her eyes. “He gone yet, missy?” “Yes, my friend, he’s gone.” “Didden like him none. Gives me the willies, he does.” Flo’s eyes went wide at the thought, and she made some quick hand gestures to ward away any evil spirits the man may have left behind. Emma gave her a warm smile, Flo was just...Flo. “We’ll be heading back to the camp tomorrow afternoon Flo. I plan on holding a dinner party the next evening. Here’s a list of supplies we need, I know some will be hard to get, but I know you’ll do your best.” Flo took the note and looked it over. For all the show and the talk, Emma knew that Flo was a shrewd woman. She could charm any merchant out of a chicken before the chicken was even hatched, much less on the shelf to be sold!
“I’ll do my best, Miss Emma, but land sakes, I wish you didn’t have to talk to the likes of that man. And by the way, just what did you say to Miss Clara? She came home here yesterday in quite a huff. And what’s all this for?” Emma let out a small laugh, Flo never beat around the bush. “Well, as to the Colonel, we may only have to see him once more if my plan works. Clara is in a snit over a handsome lieutenant I was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of, and that’s for the meal I’m gonna serve that young man.”
Flo’s eyes went wide again, this time in disbelief. “This some soldier try’in to get up your skirt? ‘Cause I won’t have none of that!” Ever since Emma’s mother had died when she was a child, Flo’s maternal instincts had multiplied ten fold. No one could have asked for a better protector. “No Flo, I think there’s something special about this one. I just wish I could put my finger on it.” Flo gave her a look, turned and walked back down the long hall to the kitchen. Emma could make out a few of the words she was mumbling, half to herself, “Just as long as he don’t put no finger on you.....won’t have it....not in my lifetime.....”
Emma just smiled and walked up the stairs to her room. Everyone else was already asleep, but one bleary eyed soldier came stumbling out of a room, hastily tugging on his uniform, hopping on one foot to get his boot on at the same time. He made blowing kisses gestures into the room he was leaving as he closed the door. As he pulled himself together, he was aware enough to sketch a sleepy bow to the mistress of the house. She gave a short curtsy to the man, along with a smile. He then walked down the stairs and out the door, all the while softly whistling. Another satisfied customer, she said to herself with a mental wry grin.
As she readied herself for bed, letting down her long, dark hair, she began to think. Picking up the brush, she slowly ran it along the length of her hair. Keeping two businesses going at the same time had been an ingenious idea. The one at the camp was lucrative, but lacked the amenities of the comfort that the one here in the city held. The added bonus to the one here, was that it provided steady, regular business. Perhaps in the morning she should look over the books again. Maybe it *was* time to retire, get out of this business. It had been a whole year...she had to catch her breath...a whole year since they died. Maybe retribution had been made. Suddenly it seemed to her that life was too heavy to bear.
She had gone into this business for many reasons, but they all seemed hollow now. In the beginning, the Colonel had asked about her reasons, but she had been evasive, stating simply, “My husband and son had no choice in this war, neither do I.” and had left it at that. How could she tell this man, the man whom she knew was using her, that her family had shed blue when they died, not gray. Somehow, the young officer she had met a few days ago would understand this. The young man with the wispy, golden hair and eyes of springtime green would understand the sacrifices she had made. It was only a feeling, but it felt right, somehow. That young officer was her chance, and she wasn’t going to let it pass her by. She left these thoughts for another day, as she lay down on her bed and slowly drifted off to sleep. Thoughts of a dusky haired lieutenant filling her thoughts as she slipped away.
“You alright boy?” Rock was getting a bit worried. His young charge hadn’t been the same after returning a few days back from visiting the followers camp. He suspected that Mrs. Collingsworth had something to do with it, but wasn’t sure. He knew her to be a beauty, but also knew, from speaking with some of the men, that while she ran the business, she never partook in the pleasing of clients. So this is what had him worried, had the woman perhaps changed her policy? Perhaps made a pass at Reil that the young woman was unprepared to handle. Damn, he silently cursed himself out...he should have seen this coming.
“Fine Rock. Aces high.” Listlessly stated, Reil threw down her cards in the game of poker the two were playing. Damn again, Rock swore to himself once more, even when she’s out of it, she still beats me at cards! Reil took a deep breath, then let it slowly out. “Can I ask you something Rock? It’s kinda personal...” “Sure, what’s on your mind?”
“Do you believe in love at first glance?” She rushed on before he could stop her train of thought. “I mean, like, deep down in your guts, just, aw, heck, I dunno. Forget I said anything.” Rock just looked at her, suddenly realising, as if for the first time, that Reil was growing up. When did that happen, he wondered. He only knew of his own experiences, as a boy, gawky, clumsy, his first crush. Ah...she was a sweet woman. He shook his head, no time for that he thought, Reil needs some reassurance. “You maybe find someone who made you feel this way?” The girls head hung low, she was staring intently at the toe of her boot. A small nod confirmed the question. “All I can tell you is to give it time. Time may be a precious commodity right now, with the war and all, but time exists for a reason. It allows us to understand, to grow. If it’s right, you’ll know, in time.”
His words made some sense to the young woman, she silently prayed that the war would allow her enough of that commodity to figure out what was happening to her. Suddenly, there was a light tap on the pole of their tent. Reil wearily hauled herself up from her seat, and stepped outside. There stood a small boy, not ten summers old, if he was a day. As Reil looked him over, he gathered up all his youthful courage and puffed out his chest. A small fist thrust outward, a delicate looking piece of paper nearly crumpled from the determined grip. “From Miss Emma.” As she took the note, the young boy turned heel and ran, not giving her a chance to reply.
She turned the slightly crumpled note over in her hands, examining it. The front, in elegant handwriting, contained her name Lieutenant R. Bardlow on the reverse side a wax seal held the folded paper together. It’s impression, an intricate worked knot, wound around a staff. Carefully, she broke the seal.
Lieutenant Bardlow
Mrs. Emma Collingsworth requests your attendance
On the evening of 10 April, 1863
7 o’clock, semi-formal attire
Graciously yours, E Collingsworth
She stood there, her body began to shake. She still had no idea why this woman affected her so. She had lain awake nights, for more than ten days now, trying to figure it out. Somehow, deep inside, she knew that she had to find out about this woman. But now, when that was within her reach, she suddenly felt lost, like a child. The weight of her responsibilities was overpowering. On the one hand, she had her troops to think about. They relied on her, but the past few days, she was unable to concentrate on what needed to be done. Going through her daily routine was mechanical at best, poor soldiering at worst. Rock peeked outside to see what was taking Reil so long. One look at her condition, the fear on her face, and he grabbed hold of the scruff of her uniform, dragging her back into the tent before the troops got a good look at a lieutenant falling to pieces in front of them.
Once back inside the tent, Reil collapsed to the ground, legs no longer willing to support her. She looked up at Rock, silently pleading, then vocally, “What am I supposed to do? She’ll find out for sure. But I need to see her again, like the next breath I take. Without it, I’ll die.”
Rock began to pace, Damn, he thought yet again to himself, why were things never easy? Why hadn’t he seen this coming? Reil had always been headstrong, independant, different from other young girls, why would falling in love for her be any different? He had silently hoped, from the earlier conversation, that it had been one of the troops. Some soldier, whom upon finding out that Reil was a woman, would have her resign her commission and pack her off to his farm, to await his return from the war. Silly of him really, he should have known that would never happen, even if it had been a man.
“Go.” One word, but Reil burst into tears. Rock knealt down beside her drawing her into a gentle hug. When she had cried herself out, she lifted her head from Rocks’ broad shoulder and asked, “But she doesn’t know. I...I...I’ll lose her for sure.” “If you don’t go, it will appear suspicious. She denied to you any involvement with the prostitution, if you don’t go, you’d be seen as committing a serious breach of social etiquette. As an officer, it could literally ruin your career. And, if she finds out, maybe it won’t be for the worst. If she’s attracted to you as a man, well, you’re still the same person.” “I hope you’re right. Now help me get ready, I’ve only got an hour, and it takes fifteen minutes to get there.”
Getting ready to dine with Emma Collingsworth was more nerve wracking than getting ready to be reviewed by the President, as they had done two days prior. The Division, the 124th, and the 12th New Hampshire had done particularly well, the units had been cited in particular by the President and Gen. Hooker. But the brass couldn’t shine enough this night. And the creases in the uniform couln’t be sharp enough. The broad rim on her officers cap had suddenly developed a dip, and after several furious attempts, it finally succumbed to efforts of steaming.
She washed up in a small basin, and with the help of Rock was able to wash her hair, not the best conditions, but after a couple of rinses, all was well. She stepped out of the tent and began walking towards the followers camp. Several of her men gave cheers at seeing their Lieutenant all spiffied up. Good natured ribbing, but she was hard pressed to keep a straight face, not wanting to let on how much more nervous it was making her. She truly wondered if her legs would carry her all the way.
Emma glanced at the arrangements that had been made in the large tent. She had sent the other women off to fend for themselves this evening. She wanted no interruptions. It was a little unseemly that she had invited no other guests, but she was already thought of as a Madame, this just added to the assumptions. If people actually knew what she was doing, they would respect her a bit more, but not much, she really did run a brothel. But try telling the uppercrust of society that she was only trying to make a living, well, it just didn’t matter to them. Fortunately for Emma, it didn’t matter one way or the other to her, as well, how people viewed her.
Few things could make this woman, widow, spy, as nervous as this night was making her feel right now. She had seen glory, and defeat. She played a role that she neither had wanted, nor sought for. The passion that had been sparked by this one young man had been thought all but lost. Had it already been a year? A year since she had kissed her husband as he went out the door of their home with their four year old son. He was only supposed to have gone to town to sell one of their horses. A simple trip, and little Eb had wanted to go with his father, because he knew when Daddy was gone, he was the ‘man of the house’. A lone tear rolled down Emma’s cheek. A single shot from a drunk rebel soldier, it had hit the horse, but both had been thrown.
She shook herself from her musings. Can’t change the past, she scolded herself. The rational part of her mind told her that it was well past the traditional period of mourning, and that she should move on with her life. Fear that she would somehow forget her husband if she gave her heart to another, paralyzed her. Now, for sure, she was going too far. She didn’t even know this lieutenant very well, really not at all. She forced her nerves and fears down deep, telling herself all the while to just see how things went.
It was still light out as Reil walked along the path to the camp, but it was one of those seemingly rare evenings when you could see the moon. She paused, and stopped along the side of the dirt path. Feeling that she needed to collect herself before facing the evening ahead. A large rock lay just off the path, she turned towards it, and leaned against it. Staring at the moon, she remembered stories from her youth about how Artemis was the moon godess. Reil was never a blind follower of any faith, but she felt comforted with the thought that if she could see the moon, maybe the huntress was watching over her. Knowing that she risked being late, she made her way back to the path, towards the camp, towards her destiny.
Finally managing to get Flo to take the carriage back to Fredricksburg, (no easy accomplishment), Emma stepped outside the tent. All was quiet in the camp, as though there were a tension in the air that she could almost grab hold of. Looking up, throught the slight canopy of trees, she spotted the moon. Hanging there, defying daylight. Daring the sun to banish it from the heavens. How brave the moon must be, thought Emma. To defy the sun in such a way. She took some of that bravery. Let it into her soul like a shield. And then she felt something. A tugging, warm fuzzy, strange, yet known kind of sensation. She turned, searching for the source of it. Thinking for a brief moment that she had imagined it, then, around the bend in the path...striding down the road like he owned it. Beautiful, handsome...hers.
Reil held her head high. This night was important. She would tell Emma her secret. She was scared. But the thought of deceiving this woman was unconscionable. If she didn’t want her after that, well, at least she had been part of her life, if only for a short time. Something told her she could trust this woman. After all, she certainly held her own secrets quite well.
As she came ‘round the bend, she felt an odd feeling, comforting, yet alien. She tested it with her mind, discovered that it came from within, and without. She rolled it about with a mental shrug, looked around her and realized what it must be to be in love. Completely. For there before her, was Emma. Looking, for all the world, like she was feeling the same thing.
Their eyes locked on each other, neither knowing what to say. Reil broke the silence, months of training coming to her rescue. She sent a silent ‘thank you’ to Rock for teaching her all the proper forms of etiquette. She sketched a short bow. “Mrs. Collingsworth. So kind of you to invite me. I hope our encounter this evening is more pleasant than the last.” She took the hand Emma had offered her and placed a light kiss upon it. Did she imagine? Or did the woman hold onto her hand a bit too long?
Emma executed a deep courtsey, even as her hand was extended for the lieutenant. “Lieutenant, so good of you to come. Please, right this way, dinner is all prepared.” She gestured towards the tent, Reil taking the liberty of holding the flap open for the other woman. As Emma passed, lightly brushing up against her, Reil could smell hyacinth, and some type of herbal scent in her hair, perhaps sandlewood. Before she could faint dead away from the sensory overload, she moved into the tent, stepping away from the heady aroma which nearly brought her to her knees in front of the tall woman.
“Would you care for a drink? I have whiskey, brandy, or something less potent if you wish.” She was having trouble concentrating. Why was the man so nervous? Sure, he was a bit young, but not very. After all, you had to be seventeen to enter the service, by northern standards. If he joined when the war started, that would make him eighteen, young, but by that age, most boys had overcome their awkwardness at least a bit. “Whiskey, if you please.” Yeah, thought Reil, I need a stiff drink. Maybe that will make my palms that much less clammy. After accepting the drink, she took a small sip. She closed her eyes so the other woman wouldn’t see them practically pop out of their sockets. Hmm....good whiskey. Gotta watch that, she thought.
“So Lieutenant,” before she could finish her sentence, Reil interrupted her... “Please, call me Reil, all my friends do, and I’d like to consider you among them.” She felt a blush at her forwardness creep up her face, but she stoically ignored it. Emma gave a smile, and Reil thought she never had seen such a sight. It transformed the woman’s face, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud when you least expect it. “Very well, Reil...may I ask you a question? And please, call me Emma. All my friends do.” A wash of relief passed through Reil. “If I can answer it, I shall.”
As she looked over at Reil, she started taking a good look at the lieutenant. Now that their gazes weren’t locked on each other, she began noticing several things. There wasn’t the tiniest trace of facial hair. His hands were calloused, as he had taken his drink, Emma had noticed. Sword practice, no doubt. All officers carried one. That, and she knew that the units spent alot of time clearing trees. That would also cause callouses. But they didn’t appear, well, brawny, she thought. Almost delicate. “How old are you Reil?” “I’m seventeen, be eighteen in a few days. I...well...I lied to get into the military. When I joined, I was still sixteen.” There, she had gotten part of it out anyway.
“That’s not unusual, from what I’ve heard. It must be a relief to know that now, they can’t send you home for being too young.” She felt she was getting closer to knowing this person who had captured her interest. But she felt she was far from figuring him out. “Yes, ma’am.” Reil blushed again, damn the effects this woman was having on her. “Sorry,” she quickly stated, “military habit. They really drill it into you. Sticks like hide glue.” Yeesh, Reil, she thought to herself, sound a bit *more* stupid if you could. She was sure her blush would become permanent.
Rather than pressing the issue, Emma asked if Reil was hungry. Thankful for the change, they sat down to eat. It was simple fare, Emma had managed to get a chicken, which Flo had cooked to perfection. Some greens and mashed potatoes completed the meal. Not much, but it seemed like a feast to Reil, who had been living off military rations for far too long. The food managed to relax both of them, and they shared idle chat. “Have you seen any fighting yet, Reil?” The thought of Reil being put in danger caused Emma to quake a bit. She covered up the slight tremble in her hands by knotting her napkin in her lap.
“Small skirmishes, nothing major. Pockets of rebels that were unfortunate enough to be in our path. I’ve even been shot.” A small amount of pride was evident in Reil’s voice, it had been her badge of acceptence into the unit, even though it had hurt like hell. She raised her hand up, and showed Emma the small half moon scar on the outer edge of her palm. “Bullet ricocheted off the stone wall we were taking cover behind. Nothing much really, stung like crazy though.” Emma leaned over the table and took Reil’s hand in her own, examining the scar. She traced the outline with her fingertip, amazed at how such a simple contact could make her feel so much more...alive. Reil began to squirm. She pulled her hand back, sorry that she had not forseen what this womans’ touch would do to her. “I’m sorry, Reil, does it still pain you?” Her permanent blush became a deeper shade. “There’s something...someth...I’m not the man you think I am.” She finally blurted out.
“I don’t understand. It was very brave of you to stay and fight, it’s an honor to your name. So often one hears of those who, when the battle finally comes, turn tail and run. War is brutal, becoming wounded is unfortunate, but you lived to fight again. Do you fear that because of this one injury, that you will not have what it takes to fight the next time?” Emma spoke softly, realizing that the young man in front of her was at odds with something, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure what it might be. Reil had a million thoughts running through her mind. That’s that...she won’t understand. I’m such a fool, she thought, thinking that she would be the one to understand. Panic was clearly written across her face. Where there was once a flushed look, now was pale.
She stood up suddenly and retrieved her hat from where she had placed it near the entrance to the tent. “Mrs. Collingsworth, thank you for the lovely evening. Perhaps we can do this again sometime. I must go now.” She gave a short bow and moved towards the tent flap, eager to get out into the cool night air. Making a fool of herself had not been on her agenda this evening. She hadn’t heard a sound, but suddenly Emma’s hand was on her arm, gently halting her progress. She knew she shouldn’t turn around. Knew that if she did, she would lose what little dignity she had left. “Reil, don’t go.” Three simple words. She turned around and fell into the arms of destiny.