Souls Aflame (27 page)

She decided she had no choice but to change clothes with Pauline. They were about the same size, and she’d have a better chance of getting away if she was not wearing the hospital gown.

She knew, too, that there was a good possibility she could buy her way out of the city with the diamond brooch still hidden in her bootie. Many times she’d tried to return it to Pauline, but the pitiful girl had been afraid her stepmother would discover it missing, and the matrons would come and search her and find it. Somehow, Julie knew Pauline would not mind if she used it to take herself to safety.

Moving cautiously through the inky blackness, she approached the spot where she remembered seeing the table. When she reached out, her fingertips touched cold marble—Pauline’s face. Squeezing her eyes shut with revulsion, hands shaking as though with palsy, Julie began undressing her. She’d never touched a dead person before, and she kept telling herself over and over there was no reason to be afraid. But the skin felt clammy, unreal, as though it had never been warm or alive; yet she had the overwhelming sensation that at any moment the body would spring to life, and the cold, bony arms would reach out and grab her, enraged that she would rob it of its dress.

She tried to move quickly, but her fingers were clumsy with terror. Finally she had the dress off. For a moment she considered not taking the slips or pantalets, then decided it might be cold outside. It was certainly cold
here
. So she took everything, her flesh crawling as she removed her hospital gown and clothed herself with the garments of her dead friend.

With the brooch tucked safely inside her bodice, Julie turned to go. But something made her hesitate. Then, slowly, it came to her—even though it was dark, she could picture Pauline lying there naked. She could not leave her friend that way. Groping about on the floor, she retrieved the soiled gown she had just removed.

She felt a sense of satisfaction as she slipped it on the dead girl. Now there might be a chance that Pauline’s father would discover where she had actually been. Her stepmother had given orders for her to be dressed, and she had no reason to think it would not be done. She would not say anything to the undertaker or ask any questions. He would bundle up the clothes she was wearing when he picked her up; they would be turned over to the family, probably to her father, who would settle the matter of the funeral with him. When her father saw the hospital gown, he would ask questions. And maybe, just maybe, Julie thought with her first smile in ages, the cruel stepmother would face retribution for what she’d done to Pauline.

As she made her way slowly up the stairs, she wondered suddenly what they would say had caused Pauline’s death. Starvation, probably, and perhaps it was so, though she suspected the pitiful young thing had just died from a broken heart.

For long moments she stood outside the door, her ear pressed against the wood, listening for any sound that suggested movement. When she was reasonably certain the hallway would be empty, she slowly turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped out.

Quickly, holding her breath, Julie made her way to the front door. It was latched, but she easily slid back the bolt and stepped outside to freedom.

Once she reached the street, she broke into a run, and she did not slow her pace until she was several blocks from the asylum. She decided it must be quite late, because there was no one about. Since she had no idea where she was, she realized there was nothing to be done about getting out of the city until daylight. Creeping about in the shadows, she finally found an old vacant shed behind a stately-looking home, and there she slept until dawn.

By mid-morning she had found a kindly-looking old gentleman with a team of horses who listened to her tale of being stranded in Washington and having to go south at once. “All I have is this brooch with which to pay you,” and she held out the diamond-encrusted pin.

His eyes widened as he lifted it anxiously from her outstretched palm. “Oh, miss, you must be really desperate to get home if you’re willing to part with something this valuable.”

“I am,” she said firmly. “Will you help me?”

He thrust the pin back in her hand and shook his head. “No, I can’t take that. It’s worth much more than my services would cost.”

Her voice cracked. “I don’t care. I’ve got to get out of Washington. I must get home. Please.”

Sighing, he took the brooch once again. “All right. If I don’t take it, you’ll meet up with someone who will. But let me tell you this, if the balls start flying when we get near the fighting, I’m turning my team around and coming back. I’m not about to get myself killed.”

“I don’t blame you for that,” she said quickly. “All I want is for you to get as near as possible to the Confederate lines. Then I’ll walk the rest of the way if I have to.”

“If that happens, I’ll see that you have the necessary funds to purchase a train ticket or rent another wagon,” he assured her. “It’s the least I can do, since you’re parting with such a valuable piece of jewelry.”

Several times along the way they were stopped by Federal pickets inquiring as to their destination. Julie told them in a mock-tearful voice that her father, a brave Union soldier, was being held prisoner by the Confederates in Richmond. The reaction she received was one of deep pity and concern, and they were waved on.

They reached Richmond safely, and the old man pulled out some money and pressed it into her hands. “I can’t risk going farther, ma’am. I hope you understand.”

“Of course I do,” she assured him with a smile. “And I thank you for bringing me this far. You be on your way, and if you’re stopped, just reverse the story I used. Tell the Confederate pickets you’re visiting your son in a Yankee prison.”

“I just wish I weren’t taking your brooch…”

“Please, be on your way. You’ve done me a great favor.” And with one final wave, she left him.

After asking directions, Julie found her way to the train station and purchased a ticket to Savannah, then went into the waiting room, where she spent the night. At least, she thought wearily, she would soon be home. Part of the nightmare was ending.

The trip took almost two days, but soon the train was rumbling into the marshy swamplands of Georgia. As she got closer to Savannah, her heart was thumping excitedly. Perhaps Myles would be there. Oh, God, it was good to be going home!

Her mind wandered once again to Derek. She whispered a silent prayer that he lived, her body trembling as she remembered his words that one day they would meet again.

In Savannah she had no problem finding a driver to take her to Rose Hill. Once she was settled in the carriage, Julie hesitantly asked him how things were going with the war.

“Bad,” he said shortly. “With Fort Pulaski in the hands of them damned Yankees, we’re havin’ a terrible time gettin’ supplies. Cotton rotted in the fields this year, most of it. Lots of the niggers run off to the North, so they ain’t had the slaves to get the rice in. Lots of folk are goin’ hungry.”

As they approached Rose Hill, the landscape a burnished gold in the late autumn sunset, the driver remarked casually, “I reckon Missus Oates’ll be glad to see you, since you say she’s your mother. Talk in town has it that she’s mighty sick, and what with the war and all, I don’t imagine she’s farin’ any better than the rest of us.”

Julie blinked. Something he had said…a mistake, no doubt. “You referred to my mother as Mrs. Oates. I think I misunderstood you.”

“Oh no, ma’am.” He shook his head positively. “You ain’t heard? My, how families do drift apart in time of war. She’s Missus Oates, all right. Married that man from England, the one what walked around full of airs, givin’ folks the impression he had so much money. Well, if you’ll pardon me for sayin’ so, miss, folks are talking about how he ain’t really got nothin’, ’cept what he expects to get from your ma, and if the winds of war don’t blow more favorable to the South, that ain’t gonna be much.”

He talked on, but there was a giant roaring in Julie’s ears, and she clutched the sides of the carriage to steady herself as they bumped along the rutted dirt road. Mrs. Oates—Mrs. Oates—the name kept ringing in her brain like a thousand church bells. It could not be so. Why would her mother marry him? And the driver had said she was sick. Just what was going on at Rose Hill, she worried, a lump of fear constricting her throat.

The driver was still talking, but Julie leaned forward to tap his shoulder and say, “Could you pick up the horses’ canter, please? I’m so anxious to get home.”

He nodded and popped his buggy whip across the horses’ backs.

Julie leaned back against the worn leather seat, shaking. Dear Lord, her heart was screaming, what awaited her at Rose Hill?

Chapter Thirteen

When Sara opened the front doors to find Julie standing on the porch, she burst into hysterical tears, gathered her in her arms, and pulled her tightly against her big bosom. “Lawdy, Lawdy, it is you, Miss Julie. It is!” she cried. “Praise God for answerin’ this tired nigger’s prayers. You done come from providence’s shores.”

The two clung together emotionally, then Julie raised her head and looked over Sara’s shoulder, stiffening at the sight of Virgil posed resplendently on the curving stairway. He wore an elegant red waistcoat, white silk cravat, and black and white striped pants tucked inside shiny ebony boots. One hand touched the bannister lightly; the other was placed on his hip.

Cocking his head to one side, he smiled slightly and said, “Well, this is a surprise. Welcome home, Julie.”

Sara gasped and jerked away as though suddenly frightened. “I’ll fix tea…” she said nervously, scurrying from the room.

Virgil slowly descended the stairs, and Julie could only stand there, not knowing what to say. It was all so strange—as though she’d been asleep for a long, long time and awakened years later to find herself in a completely different world.

“I know it must have been a terrible ordeal for you,” Virgil was saying, his lips brushing her cheek. “We’ll talk about it all later, but for now, I’m afraid I have to greet you with distressing news. Your mother is quite ill and has taken to her bed. Do you mind terribly if we don’t tell her of your homecoming just yet? I think the doctor should prepare her for such a shock.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I—” Julie shook her head to clear it. So many thoughts and questions racing through her brain. She tried to sort them out. “Mother,” she said quickly. “I want to know her condition. What does the doctor say?”

“Dr. Perkins sees her every day. But come along. Let’s not stand here in the foyer.” He looked over her shoulder toward the open doors. “You have trunks? I’ll get someone—”

“No. No, I have nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have only the clothes you’re wearing?” he asked incredulously.

“It—it’s a very long story, Virgil. I have questions of my own I want answered before we discuss me.”

He led her into the parlor, and she glanced around and saw that everything was as she remembered. A fire was crackling in the grate to ward off the fall chill in the air. She walked over to warm her hands, then turned and faced him. Taking a deep breath, she cried, “All right, Virgil. I want to hear all of it. What is wrong with my mother? Why was my ransom not paid? And why are you now married to my mother?”

He raised both hands in a pleading gesture. “One question at a time, my dear. Now, don’t be angry. You know it was you I wanted to marry,
you
that I loved—”

“
That
is the last question on my mind at the moment.” Her voice cracked. “First of all, I want to know about my mother’s condition.”

“Her heart.” He spoke so easily, so casually, that she knew her first suspicions had been correct. He did not love her mother.

“How bad?”

“The doctor says she’s very weak. He can’t say if she will ever get better.”

Julie squeezed her eyes shut, her teeth grinding together. No, she whispered silently. No-no-no, she can’t die. Not now. Not when we’ve both been through so much, and now that we’re back together again…

Her head jerked up, eyes flashing open. “The ransom. Why wasn’t it paid?”

“Because your mother didn’t have it.” His eyes narrowed. Julie had never thought him either attractive or ugly, just plain-looking. But with the expression on his face at the moment, she found him quite distasteful.

He rushed on defensively. “She gave her cotton crop and half your dowry to that bloody pirate. By the time she arrived in England, she was at the point of destitution. Did you actually think she could raise that kind of money?”

“I assumed she would seek your help,” Julie said icily, pointedly, “since you were forever trying to impress us with your wealth and power. Yet despite the fact that you’re obviously a fraud, as Captain Arnhardt tried to make me realize, you persuaded my mother to marry you. How did you accomplish such a feat?”

He smirked. “Now you’re letting your jealousy show, my love. You mustn’t do that. You will have to learn to control your emotions. Word of your attitude might reach your mother’s ears, and she’s in no condition to be unnecessarily worried.” He reached out to her. “But don’t fret. I still desire you as much as I always did. We’ll find time—”

She knocked his hand away viciously. “Don’t you touch me, and how dare you speak this way? I was a fool to even consider marrying you. You’re nothing but a liar and a fake, and I want you to leave this house immediately.” She was so angry she began to tremble.