Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [138]
“No, to laugh! Turner came so close to finding me, but you were so wonderfully indignant. You called him a pervert! I wish I could have seen your face . . . and his face.”
I wiped tears of joy as Robert and I laughed together. Then something in his laughter changed, and I realized that he was weeping.
“Oh, God . . .” he said, covering his face. “Oh, God, I’ve been locked in that place for eighteen months . . . and now . . . I can’t believe it! Caroline, I’m free!”
Chapter Twenty
March 1863
Tessie had just served breakfast in my room later that morning when Mr. St. John arrived at my front door. At the sound of the knock, Robert dove beneath the covers again, and I quickly composed myself and tried to walk calmly down the stairs to greet him. Mr. St. John’s disheveled appearance told me that he had also been robbed of a full night’s sleep. His angry face told me that he hadn’t come as my protector and friend.
“Won’t you come in?” I asked. “Esther just made breakfast if you would like some.”
“No, thank you.” He stepped inside the door so that Gilbert could close it against the March chill, but he would come no farther than the foyer. Nor would he allow Gilbert to take his coat and hat.
“I’ll come right to the point,” he said. “It pains me to have to ask you this, Caroline, but I must.Were you involved in last night’s prison break?”
I chose my words cautiously, careful not to lie. “I was home asleep in my bed at the time. I had no idea they planned to escape last night. I admit that I continued to visit my cousin after you asked me not to, and I admit that he sometimes talked of escaping— but doesn’t every prisoner?”
“Did you show him where to dig the tunnel?”
I recalled how Eli had pushed me aside so he could draw the diagram for Robert, and I thanked God for his wisdom in doing so. “No,” I answered honestly. “I didn’t show Robert where to dig.”
“They’ve recaptured some twenty men—”
“Was Robert one of them?”
“No. But the major says one of those he recaptured confessed that a woman was involved.”
“Major Turner is lying. If he has evidence against me, why doesn’t he arrest me?”
“Because I won’t allow it. Turner is convinced you were involved. Some of the sentries reported that you were snooping around the Towing Company last winter.”
“I inquired about having my furniture shipped to safety. Is that against the law?”
Mr. St. John bristled at my sharp tongue and I immediately regretted my outspokenness. He raised his finger and shook it at me. “I’d be careful how I spoke if I were you, Caroline. You are in a very dangerous position right now.”
“I’m sorry. Look, they searched my house thoroughly and didn’t find any trace of Robert. Don’t you think I’ve been harassed enough? If Charles knew how I was being treated, he would—”
“You wouldn’t be a suspect if you had heeded my warnings and stayed away from the prison.”
“I’m starting to think you believe Major Turner. You have your doubts about me and my loyalties, don’t you? Would you like to search my house, too?”
“Charles has a right to know if you were involved. As his father, so do I. If you loved him and respected his family’s name, you would have stayed well away from Libby.”
“My love for Charles has nothing to do with this. I would be happy to let you read the letter he wrote me. He said he admired me for doing what I felt was right and visiting the prison. I mean no disrespect, Mr. St. John, but it’s up to Charles, not you, to decide if I’ve acted appropriately. It’s his place to question me and to decide my guilt or innocence when he gets home. Now, I’ve answered your questions, and you obviously don’t believe me. I don’t know what more I can do.”
He studied me for a long moment, and I feared that I had made him angry again. But the expression on his face was one of confusion and bewilderment, not anger. I saw Mr. St. John for what he was—an aging, unwell man, not my enemy. He was as sick of this war and the hard choices it forced him to make as I was.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he said. He turned and walked out the