Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [171]
“That’s a lie! I did no such thing!” I had listened to Mr. St. John’s accusations in stunned shock, but I couldn’t let the last one pass for truth.
He held up his hand to silence me. “I’m not finished. The fish vendor, Ferguson, has been suspected of spying for some time. He was watched. The police told me that you were a regular customer— which is odd since you have six slaves to do all your shopping for you. The authorities asked me if I thought you might be involved, and like a fool I defended you. Now I’m not so sure. They found incriminating notes wrapped inside the money Ferguson collected. All I need to do is compare that handwriting with your writing on this map or with some of the letters you’ve sent my son. What am I going to discover then, Caroline?”
I couldn’t speak. I was afraid I was going to be sick.
“When I think of all the important people you’ve entertained in your home,” he continued, “all the crucial information you might have overheard . . . That’s why you continued to have social gatherings here, isn’t it? Even after your father left. You deliberately deceived us! You used my son . . . my daughter . . .” He gripped his left shoulder suddenly, wincing in pain.
“Please, you need to sit down, Mr. St. John. Let me get you something—”
“No!” he shouted. “You’ve done enough harm as it is. And the biggest tragedy of all is that my son loves you. He loves you! I can’t imagine what this news will do to him. What were you thinking, Caroline? How could you lie to Charles like this, pretending that you loved him when—”
“I wasn’t pretending. I do love Charles.”
“How can you possibly say you love him when you’ve been helping his enemies?” Mr. St. John tried to take a step, then gripped the edge of the desk to keep from falling. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, wheezing. “Charles must be told the truth. But if he learns it now, while lying in a filthy trench, I fear he’ll be so devastated that he won’t want to live. I won’t let you kill my son.”
His hands trembled as he refolded the map and phony documents and put them back in his coat pocket. He picked up my father’s book. He stared at me, but it was as if he was looking through me. His face had been flushed with rage a moment ago, but now it was as colorless as a corpse.
“I don’t know what to do about you,” he said, shaking his head. “If you’re guilty of half the things I think you are, then I want you arrested . . . no, I want you to hang! But if the truth about you comes out now . . . it will destroy my son. . . .”
There was nothing more I could say.
Mr. St. John managed to stagger to the door without me. I watched his servant help him into his carriage and drive away.
Two days passed, then three. Now four. I have no idea what will happen to me. All I can do is wait, wondering when my arrest will come. In the meantime, I’ve been unable to sleep. I decided to write this account, explaining my reasons for doing what I’ve done. I pray that when you read it you will understand how I became entangled in all of this. And that you will find it in your heart to forgive me.
I offer no defense except these words from the book of Proverbs: “ ‘If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small. If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn to death, and those that are ready to be slain; If thou sayest, Behold, we knew it not; doth not he that pondereth the heart consider it? . . . and shall not he render to every man according to his works?’ ”
Caroline Ruth Fletcher
September 1864
PART TWO
“You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light. With your help I can advance against a troop; with my God I can scale a wall.”
Psalm 18:28–29 NIV
Chapter Twenty-four
September 1864
Artillery boomed in the distance, shaking the floor beneath Caroline’s feet as she stood