Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [164]
“I remember the first time we thought the Yankees were going to invade Richmond on that warship, the Pawnee,” Mrs. St. John said, her scissors busily snipping a seam. “How foolish we were, worrying like that when there hadn’t been any danger at all.” She smiled at the memory.
That had been the first of many nights that I had prayed for Charles’ safety. He had been in real danger many times since then, fighting in some of the bloodiest battles of the war—Manassas, Malvern Hill, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg. I had decided to trust God that first night, and so far, He had kept Charles safe.
“My husband was adding it all up the other day,” Mrs. St. John said. “The Yankees have set out to make Richmond their prize six times, under six different commanding generals—McDowell, McClellan, Hooker, Burnside . . . I can’t even remember all the others he named, but there were six of them. And they all failed.”
“I guess that makes General Grant the seventh,” Sally said, threading another needle. “I’ve heard he has a reputation for stubbornness, but I’m sure our men will drive him back just like they chased away all the others.”
Everyone agreed with Sally except me. I silently hoped that Grant would succeed where the others had failed so that my life with Charles could finally begin. I longed for this war to end before more blood had to be shed and before the war completely ravaged the South. The longer the conflict dragged on, the greater the odds that Charles would be wounded, taken prisoner, or killed in action, like so many tens of thousands of other men. I just wanted it to end—I wanted the slaves to be freed and this terrible, bloody war to end.
“My husband said the Yankees will be coming at us from more than one direction this time,” Mrs. St. John said. “Grant will go after Lee’s army near Fredericksburg, and General Butler is going to come up the opposite shore of the James to try to cut us off from our southern rail lines. Some other general whose name I forget is going to move up the Shenandoah Valley to try to cut Lee off from his supply base at Lynchburg.”
“Jonathan says to let them come, we’ll be ready for them,” Sally said. “He says our men are digging in, building a line of defense more than sixty miles long, from northeast of Richmond to south of Petersburg. When Grant attacks our fortifications he’ll lose so many men that the North will finally get sick of this war.”
“My husband says this is an election year up north,” another woman added. “He says that Mr. Lincoln isn’t very popular, so if we can just hold the Yankees off until November, maybe the new president will make peace.”
“Is there any truth to the rumors that Richmond is going to be evacuated soon?” I asked, fishing for information.
But before anyone had a chance to reply, Mr. St. John suddenly arrived, storming into the parlor without waiting to be announced. He looked so badly shaken that I dropped my scissors and thimble, immediately fearing for Charles.
“My dears, you need to come home right away,” he said. “Two of our servants have run off—Jeremiah and Gus.”
I closed my eyes in relief. Eli had warned that the two men planned to escape rather than help dig miles and miles of fortifications for the Rebel army.
“Did they rob us? Is anything missing?” Mrs. St. John asked, hastily gathering up her sewing.
“I’m not sure. I don’t know where you and Sally have hidden all your things. I think you’d better come home and help me look.”
The other ladies quickly packed away their sewing, too. “Oh, I do hope nothing irreplaceable is missing,” Mrs. St. John said as her servant fetched her bonnet and shawl.
“I warned you,” Mr. St. John said. “I told you that I thought it unwise for you to come here together, didn’t I?”
I gladly closed the front door behind him.
When I was alone, I wrapped a shawl around my shoulders against the spring chill and went out through the drawing room doors into the yard. I had watched Eli and Gilbert through the windows all afternoon as I’d sewed. They were working