The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 25

  Annabelle dropped the diamond into her palm and let the gold chain fold in upon itself. She gripped it tightly. “I think Momma would rather see me safe without this trinket than dead, still clutching it.”

  Peggy was silent for a moment. “Oh, Miss Belle. What happened to the life you was supposed to have?”

  Annabelle gave a wry smile. “War.”

  Peggy’s features grew resolute. “If we’s going to go, I say we go north, not south.”

  “What? Why?”

  “They’s still fightin’ that way. It ain’t safe.”

  Annabelle unhooked the necklace and turned for Peggy to clasp it behind her neck. “I know, but where will we go up here? No one will be willing to take us in.”

  Peggy hooked the clasp, and Annabelle turned back around, stuffing the necklace down the front of her bodice and concealing it underneath.

  “Your momma had family in New York.”

  Annabelle grunted. “You know they won’t help us.”

  “They might.”

  “I’m a Southerner.”

  “You’s family. One in trouble, with half Yank blood and a whole Yank heart. Why would they turn you away?”

  “Shhhh. Not so loud. If any of them hear you, we won’t ever get away from here.”

  Peggy snapped her mouth shut.

  Maybe Peggy had a point. Would her mother’s family forget the bad memories between them? Or, would they still shun her because of her father, a man they had never liked for taking their only daughter far away? She’d only seen her grandmother twice, and neither time had the woman seemed interested in familial affection.

  Annabelle would have to worry with that later. She nodded to Peggy. “All right. Let’s go, then.”

  She had a presidential kidnapping to thwart.

  “He goes out unattended, and we shall be enough.”

  Annabelle stalked out the front door without anyone noticing her. They were all supposed to be at breakfast now, and if she hurried, it might be a few more moments before anyone thought to summon her.

  And if they were lucky, she and Peggy would be too deep into the city for anyone to be able to find them. Behind her, Peggy lugged the carpet bag stuffed with everything they could fit. Peggy had insisted on bringing it with them, just in case.

  The extra blankets the spies had given them had to be left behind, though Annabelle loathed to discard something so valuable. But, she was already wearing her paletot and her mantle. She was sufficiently warm enough for this brutal northern winter. It would have to do.

  Annabelle tried to avoid as much of the mud as she could, glad she had grabbed her boots from home. They might be a bit worn and were not nearly as comfortable as her slippers, but they kept her feet dry.

  “You know where we’re goin’?”

  Annabelle startled at Peggy’s voice behind her. She rarely ever spoke to Annabelle when they were walking in public. Annabelle halted and took a step back, falling into stride with Peggy on the busy sidewalk.

  Peggy looked at her incredulously. “What you doin’?” she whispered.

  “You are not a slave here. You might be my maid up North, but you’re not a slave. You can walk with and talk to me.”

  Peggy’s eyes lit, but she shook her head. “Ain’t proper.”

  “Says the woman who didn’t see scores of Colored folks standing shoulder-to-shoulder with white people at the inauguration yesterday.”

  Peggy cut her eyes at Annabelle. “That true?”

  “Of course. Why would I lie to you?”

  The words chafed as soon as she spoke them. Well, she hadn’t really been lying to Peggy, had she? She’d only left out some things.

  Lord, forgive me.

  She needed to tell Peggy the truth. Annabelle leaned close to Peggy’s ear. “They are going to kidnap President Lincoln and take him to Richmond.”

  Peggy stumbled to a halt, causing several people behind them on the sidewalk to have to jump out of the way. They shot annoyed glances at Annabelle, but she ignored them. She grabbed Peggy’s hand and pulled her into the covered doorway of a watch shop.

  “What in the heavens?” Peggy wailed.

  “Hush! Don’t call attention.”

  Peggy put both hands on her head, dropping the carpetbag with a thud. “Oh, Miss Belle. I knew they was doin’ somethin’ bad. But, lands, not this!”

  Annabelle smiled and nodded to the strangers passing by with curious looks. “Contain yourself, Peggy,” Annabelle said through her plastered-on smile. “Is it any wonder I don’t want to tell you things?”

  Peggy straightened, snatched up the carpetbag, and stepped back out into the flow of pedestrians so quickly that Annabelle had to scramble to gain her side.

  “We’s got to tell someone,” Peggy mumbled, keeping her eyes forward.

  “I know. That’s what I am trying to do.”

  “Then we find some law officers.”

  Annabelle nodded to a gentleman who tilted his hat to her. “And, tell them what? We are involved in a spy ring, but we are turning on them?”

  Peggy glared at her. “What, then?”

  They stepped around a large mud puddle, and Annabelle glanced behind them to see if they were followed. As best she could tell, all the faces looked unfamiliar.

  “All we need to do is make sure someone close to Lincoln knows about it,” Annabelle said with more confidence than she felt. “Then they can handle it.”

  They stepped around another mud puddle and turned a corner, passing in front of Ford’s Theatre. Advertisements for the play Clark in de Boots donned the side of the building with bold words and bright colors. Annabelle had no idea what such a title might foretell, but if she’d had a dollar to spare and not been trying to thwart a presidential kidnapping, she would very much have liked to see a theatre performance.

  “I think you needs to ask directions.”

  Annabelle looked at Peggy. “What? Oh, of course.” Why was she wandering around enjoying sights? A man’s life was in danger.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Annabelle reached out and touched the arm of the nearest person. The older gentleman glanced down at her fingers, startled.

  Annabelle quickly dropped her hand. “Forgive me. Do you happen to know where I might secure a traveling coach?”

  He narrowed his eyes, no doubt judging her accent. “Turn right at this corner,” he said, gesturing to the end of the nicely square block they seemed so fond of in Washington. “Then go down four more street crossings, and take another right. Pumphrey’s stable is on your left. If you reach the National Hotel, you went too far.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.”

  The man tipped his hat and stepped around her.

  “Oh! Wait!”

  He turned back. “Do you know where they keep records of the war prisons?” she asked quickly.

  Peggy gasped. The man blinked at her then stepped close, lowering his voice so near her ear that it tickled. Her heart pounded.

  “As it turns out, I happen to be on the same side as you.”

  Annabelle let out the breath that had lodged in her throat. The old man glanced around before he spoke again. “Who did you lose, my dear?”

  Annabelle let her bottom lip quiver. “They took my…betrothed. I only wish to know where he went.”

  Sympathy filled the man’s eyes. “A lady won’t be able to sashay in there with her Southern charm and get that information from the Yanks.”

  Her heart sank. “Oh.”

  He wagged his brows. “But… who knows, maybe you could talk some young fellow into fetching it for you.”

  She ducked her head low. What would people think of them, huddled like this on the street? She took his arm and started down the sidewalk. He didn’t protest but escorted her in the direction of the stables. Peggy grumbled something behind them, but followed.

  “Would you be so kind as to tell me where I might go to find this office?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the people they passed. How did one tell who was loyal to
what side?

  “You’ll have to go to the Office of William Hoffman, Commissary-General of Prisoners. It’s not far,” the man said, nodding to others on the sidewalk and steering her around a small puddle.

  Not only did he give her the information she needed, but he also was kind enough to escort her to where she needed to go, which thankfully, was only a few streets over. They came to a stop in front of a large brick building. The old man patted her hand. “Here we are, dear. I do hope you find what you need.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He nodded. “Don’t expect too much out of them, though.”

  “Yes, sir. I won’t.”

  He raised his cane to her and turned opposite, hurrying away and leaving Annabelle and Peggy staring after him.

  “What in heaven’s name were you thinkin’?” Peggy whispered.

  “I think we should give it a try.”

  Peggy gave her a sour look. “You forgot your head?”

  Annabelle dismissed the comment and looked up at the formidable building. “You wait here. I’m going inside.”

  “Fool thing to do.”

  “Perhaps. But, what could it hurt?” She didn’t wait for Peggy to answer. Annabelle squared her shoulders and strode up the steps.

  Inside, she found several empty desks and a solitary young man with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose. His head was bent as he studied a stack of papers before him. She glanced around the large chamber, but it appeared otherwise empty.

  She waited for a moment, but he did not seem to notice her. “Um, excuse me, sir?”

  His head snapped up, and he scrambled to his feet, his crisp blue uniform tidy. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

  Annabelle tried her best to come across the polished lady her father would have wanted her to be. “I have come to speak to General Hoffman.”

  The fellow came around his desk, his polished boots clicking on the floor as he walked. “Do you have an appointment?”

  She twisted her hands. “Well, no, but….”

  “Then I am afraid you can’t see him.”

  “But, I….” She trailed off as he made his way back around the desk and sat down. She waited until he was seated and leveled his brown eyes on her. “Perhaps you could help me?”

  “Oh, no, no. I don’t think –”

  Annabelle cut him off. “Please, I just need a simple thing. I suspect a fellow as smart as you knows where they keep all the records?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I do.”

  Annabelle let her shoulders droop. “I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t be so presumptuous. It’s just that, well, we don’t know where he is, and….” She put her hand to her mouth and turned away.

  “Miss?”

  She looked back at him, dabbing at her eyes.

  “Who are you looking for?”

  Annabelle thought quickly. Oh, forgive me for another lie. “My foolish brother. I can’t believe he would join the Confederates. It made Momma nearly go mad to have one son on each side.”

  The man’s eyes softened.

  “He’s been taken prisoner, and poor Momma… I just think if she knew where he was, then she would be more at ease, you know?”

  The young Union soldier straightened his glasses, picked up a writing pen, and dipped it into a well of ink. “What is your brother’s name?”

  “George Daniels.”

  “Rank?”

  Her heart fluttered. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  He sat back in his chair a little. “What do you know, miss? I’ll need more than a name.”

  She scoured her memory for every detail Matthew had mentioned. “I believe he was in General Forrest’s contingent that went further south. He was in a company located in Mississippi, and was somewhere around Jefferson County when he was captured.”

  The Union man scribbled it down. “This might be enough.”

  She clasped her hands. “Oh! Thank you, sir!”

  “Do not thank me yet, Miss Daniels.”

  A shiver ran down her spine.

  “I will look and see what I can find. I understand your pain. My cousin joined the Confederacy as well. Tore my uncle up something bad.”

  “I appreciate the effort. Anything you can find would mean so much.”

  “It may take some time. Where might I reach you?”

  “I am staying at the Surratt Boarding House while we are in town.”

  “Very well. If I find anything, I will send a message there.”

  Elated, Annabelle offered him her best smile. “Thank you!”

  He nodded and turned back to his work.

  She scrambled out the door, beaming at Peggy as she stepped up beside her. “I might have been able to find out where they are keeping George.”

  “That so?”

  “Perhaps. He is going to try, anyway.”

  Peggy gave her a knowing smile. “That’s right good, Miss Belle. I hope he find somethin’.”

  Annabelle left the office of the Commissary-General of Prisoners with more hope for a good outcome than she had for her next task. How was she going to stop an abduction?

  They found the stables exactly where the man had indicated, only a few streets away from the Capitol itself. She paused out front, wondering what exactly she planned to do now. How would getting a coach help her find the proper people to warn? Should she even go? What if finding out where George was caused Matthew to change his mind?

  As if reading her thoughts, Peggy said, “Come on, Miss Belle. Let’s see if that necklace will buy you a proper passage. Then we’s gonna see if we can get a message to that man before they try and run off with him.”

  Annabelle figured that was as good of a plan as any. First, they would find a driver to take them to New York. And, well, coachmen would be familiar with everything in the city, so maybe one of them could direct her to where she might be able to contact someone at the White House.

  Oh, Lord, we sure could use a little help.

  She squared her shoulders, stepped up to the stable, and looked around to find someone to help her.

  “Miss? You need something?”

  Annabelle turned and smiled at a young man behind her. He tipped the hat stuffed down on a head full of curly, brown hair.

  “Yes. Are you employed at this stable?”

  “Me? Naw. But, I come here often enough when we need horses. I might can help you find what you need.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m looking to hire out a coach to take me to New York. I don’t suppose you’re a driver?”

  He grinned. “I’m a driver, all right, but I don’t think my employer would let me drive you to New York, though I sure would if I could.”

  He winked at her, and she dipped her chin. “Well, thank you, anyway.” She turned to keep looking, but something made her pause. She looked back at the young man. “Who do you drive for?”

  He gave a small bow. “I’m Thomas Clark. Personal driver for President Lincoln.”

  Annabelle’s heart skipped over itself. How could it be possible? Peggy’s eyes bulged out. “It’s an answer to prayer!”

  Annabelle stared at her, and the young man looked confused. His face reddened. Annabelle stepped up to him, hoping she could trust him. What choice did she have? “Do you truly know the president?” she whispered.

  The fellow scratched at his chin. “Well, I don’t rightly know him, but yeah, I am his driver. Been so for two whole months now.”

  “Oh, Mr. Clark!” Annabelle clasped her hands together. “I am in great need of your help!”

  He tilted his head. “What might I help you with, miss? I already told you I can’t take you to New York.” He scrunched his nose. “And please, don’t ask me to introduce you to Mr. Lincoln. I ain’t going to be able to do that. It’s amazing how many folks ask.”

  Annabelle wagged her head. “No. I don’t need you to introduce us. I only need to get him a message.”

  Mr. Clark smiled. “You can send it through the post, you know.”

  �
��This is a matter of grave importance. It must be delivered immediately.”

  The humor left the man’s face. “Look, miss, I don’t know what kind of games you’re about, but I need to be getting on with my duties.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Please, just listen.” She glanced around the stable and, seeing no one other than the three of them, hurried on. “I overheard a plot meant to harm the president. I am looking to find someone who can stop it.”

  He raised his bushy brows. “Lady, you said you were looking to go to New York. Besides, if you have something important to report, there are plenty of law officers you can tell.”

  He pulled his arm free and began to walk off. Annabelle hurried along behind him. “I know he is going to attend a review on the seventh at the Soldiers’ Home!”

  Mr. Clark stopped and looked down at her, his brows pulling together. “How would you know that? It hasn’t been announced.”

  “I told you. I know their plot. They are going to take him on his way there.”

  Mr. Clark scrubbed the scruff on his cheek and let out a low whistle. “Oh, man. Why are you telling me this?” He narrowed his eyes. “How’d you know I would be here?” He glared at her with that now-familiar look of suspicion.

  She sighed. “I did not know you would be here, or even who you were. Please, believe me. I cannot go to a policeman. I am in danger and need to get to New York without being detained.”

  He studied her a moment but didn’t offer a protest.

  “All I need you to do is take a different route. Please, Mr. Clark. You are the driver. Surely you can do that much? If I am wrong, what would it hurt? But, if I am not, you may very well save the president’s life.”

  He swallowed hard, then gave a small nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “The suddenness of the whole thing will prevent any attempt at rescue until it is too late. And once safely in Richmond, the independence of the South is certain, and my fortune made.”

  Matthew diverted the matron’s questions and asserted that Annabelle was probably still just tired from the long journey and the excitement of the inauguration. All through breakfast, he kept her at bay. But, O’Malley watched him too closely, his sharp eyes always returning to Matthew when he thought Matthew wasn’t looking.