Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [125]
“What?” I was certain he was going to spout off more battle strategy, so I wasn’t prepared for his next words.
“You could find out what else the Rebels are planning. You could deliberately place yourself in a position to overhear their strategy, like you did at church. Didn’t you tell me your fianceé’s family is high society? You could wine and dine the generals and other high officials. No one would ever suspect that a woman was paying attention. Do you know many of the Confederate bigwigs?”
I hesitated. “President Davis goes to St. Paul’s church— Charles’ church. So does General Lee when he’s in town. I have met a few majors and colonels and such, but—”
“But what?”
I felt the same revulsion I’d felt before delivering Robert’s Bible—as though I was betraying Charles. St. Paul’s was his church, and I had only begun attending there because of his family. They were also the ones who had introduced me to all the ranking officers I knew. To do what Robert was asking would mean betraying the St. Johns’ trust.
The guard knocked on the door just then, telling me my time was up. I was relieved. “I don’t know if I can do what you’re ask- ing or not,” I told Robert. “You’ll have to give me time to think about it.”
I gathered up my things and hurried away. I really didn’t want to think about what Robert had asked me to do. I was sick to death of this war and all the difficult decisions I’d had to make, all the impossible things I’d been forced to do. I was tired of feeling torn between conflicting loyalties, choosing between my love for Charles and my love for Tessie and the others. When the nation split apart, my life had been ripped right down the middle along with it.
I emerged from the prison into the cold November afternoon, wanting nothing more than to run home and hide. But when I looked across the street to where Eli had parked the buggy, I was shocked to see Mr. St. John standing there alongside him, waiting for me.
My first response was a stab of shame, as if Charles’ father had somehow overheard my conversation with Robert and read my thoughts and had come to accuse me. But I realized that was impossible—and then a towering fear rose up inside me, overshadowing everything else. He must have come with news of Charles.
The pain that suddenly filled my chest was so intense I pray I never feel it again. Without thinking, without looking, I rushed across the street to him. I might have been run over by a carriage, for I never even looked.
“Oh, God . . . has something happened to Charles?”
For a moment, Mr. St. John seemed taken aback. “No . . . no, I’m not here about Charles.” He saw how badly he’d frightened me and quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Caroline. I haven’t heard from Charles.”
I leaned against the buggy and closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the same sickening nausea I’d felt after I’d seen Will’s name and Jonathan’s on the casualty lists. I honestly believed I might faint.
Eli gently took my arm and helped me up onto the carriage seat. “Easy, Missy. Better sit down a minute.”
“I’m very sorry,” Mr. St. John repeated. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. “As long as Charles is okay, I’ll be fine.”
“Well . . .” He cleared his throat. “What I’ve come to discuss with you is very serious, but it has nothing directly to do with Charles’ safety. Would you prefer to drive home and talk about this?”
“I don’t know . . . tell me what it’s about.”
“It has to do with Libby Prison.” He tilted his head toward the building across the street.
“The prison? Tell me now.”
He sighed, then studied the ground for a moment as if searching for words. “It has recently come to my attention that you have been a regular visitor there, and frankly . . . well, I was shocked to hear it. I didn’t believe Major Turner when he first told me you went there, but he suggested I drive down and see for myself. And so I have.”
I was dumbfounded. “I’ve never tried to keep my visits a secret from you . . . or anyone else.