The Spymistress (11 page)

“My request is not for your department, Mr. Secretary, but for you.”

His eyebrows rose, and he clasped his hands behind his back as he regarded her from above. “How may I be of service, Madam?”

“I realize that you are an exceptionally busy man, and I believe I can express my gratitude best by getting right to the point.” Lizzie paused to take a breath and smile up at him, hopeful. “I would like to nurse the sick and wounded Union prisoners being held in the tobacco factories. They’re only a few blocks away from my own neighborhood, so you can understand why I would feel a special responsibility to extend the hand of charity to them.”

“Are you a trained nurse?”

“No, no more than any other woman who has cared for ailing members of her own family.”

He allowed a rueful smile. “In other words, as qualified as most of the ladies serving as nurses throughout Richmond at this very moment.”

“Yes, Mr. Secretary. We women are well practiced in caring for the sick, and we all want to be useful.”

Suddenly his smile disappeared. “Your good intentions are woefully misdirected,” he said sternly. “The prisoners are a very different class of men than a lady such as yourself is accustomed to, and they are wholly undeserving of your ministrations.”

“Deserving or not, they need care, and no one else seems eager to take on the task.” She clasped her hands together in her lap and tried not to show how desperately she wanted him to agree. “I beg you, sir, please consider my offer. I am a woman of independent means, and I assure you I will bear every expense myself.”

“That does not change the nature of the men you seek to nurse,” he pointed out. “They are a very low, rough, violent sort, not worthy or fit for a lady to visit.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I see.” Lizzie paused, thinking. “But you cannot fault me for wanting to help them. As a lady—as a Christian lady—it is my duty to dispense charity to the less fortunate.”

“I do not fault you at all,” he assured her. “In fact, I commend you.”

“I knew you would understand.” Lizzie fixed him with an admiring smile. “You are the very model of the Christian gentleman, as I knew you would be. I heard you speak once, in peacetime, at a religious convention, and I must say you spoke beautifully on the subject of Christian duty. I was quite moved.”

“Thank you, Miss Van Lew,” he said, visibly pleased. “It is a subject that has occupied my thoughts quite a lot during these challenging times.”

“What was it our Lord said?” Lizzie mused, gazing thoughtfully at the bookshelf to the secretary’s left, where a thick, well-read, leather-bound Bible was given pride of place on its own shelf. “‘Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.’ Matthew 25:40, is it not?”

“I believe it is Matthew 25:36.”

“Really? Then what is Matthew 25:40?”

Secretary Memminger appeared somewhat chagrined as he recited, “‘And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”

“Mr. Secretary,” said Lizzie earnestly. “Surely these Union prisoners
are
the least of our brethren. My obligation as a Christian woman is to help them as I would help our Lord Himself.”

He frowned and shifted his weight uncomfortably, but he did not ask her to be silent.

“If we want our cause to succeed,” she continued, emboldened, “we must begin with charity to the thankless. We should also be mindful that the Yankees took many prisoners too, and for their sakes as well as the sake of our own souls, we should show by our example how enemy captives ought to be treated.”

For a long moment, the secretary regarded her in silence, but then he nodded. “Of course you’re right,” he said. “It is not always pleasant to be reminded of our duty, but the Lord Jesus Christ could not have been more clear on this subject. We must care for these prisoners, though they are our sworn enemies, because they are also our brothers.”

“However much we might wish to disavow them.”

He let out a short laugh. “Yes.
Especially
then, I warrant.” He sat down at his desk, took a sheet of paper from a basket, dipped a pen in ink, and began to write. Lizzie watched, holding herself perfectly still and scarcely breathing rather than disturb him, until he set down the pen and looked up. “Take this letter of introduction to General Winder and tell him I trust he will offer you his complete cooperation.” He waited for the ink to dry before folding the page and sealing it. “He keeps an office on Bank Street—a bit shabby, but it’s only temporary until something better can be found.”

“Yes, I know the place.” When he held out the letter, she quickly rose and took it before he could change his mind. “Mr. Secretary, I cannot thank you enough.”

He accepted her thanks graciously and rose to show her to the door. He was a true gentleman, she thought as she left the Custom House by the Bank Street exit, the precious letter in hand. She could not help thinking, as she had of Mr. Lee, that it was a pity such a man was a rebel.

In no time at all she arrived at General Winder’s shanty office, where she found him seated at a table where two clerks were busily writing. The general—a stout, stern, silver-haired man of about sixty years—received her most politely and kindly, but when his frown deepened as he read Secretary Memminger’s letter, she knew he would require more persuasion.

As to that, the sunlight had faded from her golden ringlets, her youthful softness had given way to angularity, but she had not forgotten how to charm a gentleman.

His silvery white hair waved in handsome locks, and as he reached the end of the letter, she suddenly exclaimed, “Dear me, General Winder, my friends told me you were handsome, but their compliments scarcely do you justice. What noble physiognomy! Your hair would better adorn the temple of Janus. It seems out of place in such surroundings.”

The general glanced up from the letter, surprised. “Thank you, Madam,” he said. “You are very kind.”

“Oh, not at all.” Lizzie smiled and waved a hand breezily. “I’m sure you’ve heard it before. You must know how much the ladies of Richmond admire you.”

He smiled, flattered. “From the moment I arrived, the ladies of Richmond have impressed me with their grace and kindness. I’m very pleased to know I’ve made a favorable impression upon them.”

“Indeed you have. In fact, that’s why I was not the least bit nervous approaching you with my little petition, because your reputation for wisdom precedes you.” She gave him her most winning smile. “As an act of Christian charity, I should like to visit the Union prisoners, and nurse them if they are ill or wounded, and bring them little delicacies from my kitchen, and such books as will distract them and keep them from causing any disturbances. I will, of course, bear all expenses myself, as part of my service to the cause.”

Two clerks exchanged a look of surprise as General Winder mulled it over. “I have no objection,” he said. “I would prefer for you not to go alone, however. Soldiers can be a rough breed.”

Lizzie’s smile deepened. “Perhaps, but I have also discovered—quite recently, in fact—that among them one may also find the most charming of gentlemen.”

The general chuckled and his cheeks took on an ever so slightly rosier hue as he asked the clerks for paper and pen. “I am writing you a pass,” he declared as he wrote, “granting you permission to visit the prisoners, and to bring them books, food, whatever you may please.”

“That is most kind, General.”

He stood and reached across the desk to hand her the pass, and she quickly rose and took it. “This should suffice, but if anyone refuses you, send word to me right away and we’ll sort it out.”

She thanked him profusely and swept from the office, throwing him one last smile over her shoulder in parting. Back on the street, she closed her eyes, clutched the precious paper to her bosom, and inhaled deeply, wishing she could shout for joy. At last she could fulfill the sacred duty of caring for the Union prisoners in their distress—and no one, not even the estranged brother-in-law of the president of her beloved United States, could stop her.

Chapter Six

JULY-AUGUST 1861

T
he next day, Lizzie instructed Caroline to cook up a pot of rich chicken soup and a simple cornmeal gruel, and to spoon them into covered dishes. Lizzie’s favorite was a clever contrivance with a double bottom into which boiling water could be poured to keep the food warm. At the last moment, she asked Caroline to make a ginger cake, the same delicacy Mr. Botts was so fond of, and to fill a bottle with buttermilk. “We must take a gift for Lieutenant Todd,” she explained to little Annie, who was too small to be useful but insisted upon helping her auntie load the basket.

“He won’t be pleased to learn that I went to his superiors,” she told her mother as they strolled down the hill to the Liggon prison complex, heavy baskets in their arms. In addition to the food, Mother had wisely packed bandages, lint, and a bottle of brandy, mostly full.

“Caroline’s ginger cake will sweeten him,” said Mother confidently, puffing a bit from exertion. “And even if it doesn’t, Lieutenant Todd dare not ignore General Winder’s command.”

Lizzie certainly hoped so.

When they arrived at the main gate, the plump young guard who had escorted Lizzie before was absent, and a tall, lank-haired soldier with a pockmarked face stood at his post. Mother explained their errand, and when the guard disappeared inside and returned with the news that Lieutenant Todd could not see them, Lizzie sighed disconsolately. “Oh, what a pity,” she exclaimed, lifting the cloth over the basket holding the ginger cake so that the delicious aroma wafted out. “We had so hoped to deliver our gifts while they’re fresh and warm. I suppose we could return tomorrow, but they will not taste half as good.”

“I did not think I would have to carry these heavy burdens uphill on our way home,” said Mother, sounding much distressed. “We had expected to empty our baskets here.”

The guard eyed their baskets longingly as if he wished he could accept them on the lieutenant’s behalf. “Let me ask again. Maybe he can spare a few minutes.”

They smiled and thanked him, and soon enough he returned and ushered them through the gate and down the long hallway. Lieutenant Todd was writing in a ledger of sorts when they arrived at his office, but he set his pen aside and rose when they entered. “We come bearing gifts,” said Mother, setting the bottle of buttermilk on his desk while Lizzie placed the ginger cake in his hands, still warm, wrapped in a cheesecloth.

“This smells delicious,” he said, admiring the ginger cake, but when he glanced up, the gaze he fixed on Lizzie was curious. “I confess I don’t know what I did to earn such a delicacy. My impression was that you left our first meeting rather displeased with me.”

“I know you were thinking only of my welfare,” Lizzie assured him, taking General Winder’s letter from her pocket. “I confess I was disappointed, but not undaunted, and I’m happy to say that General Winder agrees that I should care for the Union prisoners—at my own expense, of course. My work will free up the more qualified nurses to care for our own suffering soldiers.”

The lieutenant straightened, and his mouth hardened into a line. Pretending not to notice his annoyance, Lizzie smiled and held out the letter to him with both hands. He set the ginger cake on the desk next to the buttermilk, took the page, and read it slowly. “I see,” he said when he had finished, folding the letter and returning it to her. “If General Winder says you may visit the soldiers, I cannot refuse. I do hope you ladies are prepared for what you will see.”

“I’m sure that we are
not
prepared,” said Mother frankly. “We have read about the violence of war, and we have had occasion to tend to the ailing and broken bodies of loved ones, but I am quite sure that nothing we have experienced in our fortunate lives could adequately prepare us for the task we want to undertake. And yet we must set aside our fears and squeamishness, and do what we are afraid to do, because those men are suffering and we can help.”

Lieutenant Todd studied her in silence, and Lizzie could tell that he was impressed. “I won’t delay you any longer,” he said, and beckoned to the guard. “Take these ladies to the infirmary. Give them anything they need.”

They followed the guard down a long corridor, silent, steeling themselves. The smell told them that they had arrived even before their escort halted at a door. He opened it and gestured for them to proceed him inside, but when she crossed the threshold, Lizzie drew back, gagging from the smell of defecation and urine and rot. Mother shifted her basket to the crook of her elbow, pressed a rosemary-scented handkerchief to her mouth and nose, and pushed past Lizzie into the room. Swallowing hard, her eyes tearing up, Lizzie followed.

It was, not unexpectedly, a hospital ward in name only. Nearly six dozen men were crammed into a room that could not have held a third that number in any comfort. They had no beds, but lay on straw scattered upon the rough, uneven wooden floor. Only half of the men had blankets, which they had wadded up into pillows or spread upon the straw for comfort, needing no coverings in the stifling summer heat. Lingering near the door, where the air was not so thick and foul, Lizzie saw men with open, oozing wounds; amputees with stumps wrapped in strips of fabric torn from the uniforms of many different regiments; haphazardly tended injuries with blood and pus seeping through the bandages. One man groaned, another called out weakly for water.

And suddenly Lizzie knew where to begin. Quickly she set down the baskets of gruel and soup and whirled upon the guard. “Water,” she said tersely. “Clean, fresh water. A pail with a dipper for drinking, a bucketful for washing.”

The guard gave her a wary, appraising look and seemed as if he might speak, but he hurried off without a word, and Lizzie and her mother set themselves to their grim duty.

All morning and well into the afternoon they cleansed and bandaged wounds, offered the men water, dispensed small doses of brandy, and spooned soup or gruel into the mouths of prisoners who were well enough to eat. They badgered the guards to summon a doctor to examine the most seriously afflicted men, but although they were assured a doctor would come as soon as possible, one had not yet appeared by the time the exhausted women withdrew from the infirmary. They stopped by Lieutenant Todd’s office, assured him they would return the next day, and left the prison, their footsteps quickening as they approached the exit. Outside, Lizzie gasped as the breeze swept over her; never before had the sultry July air by the river felt so refreshing and tasted so sweet. She thought she heard someone call out from above, but when she glanced upward, she saw no one at any of the small, tightly shut windows.