The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

see the defenders abandon the city, there will be widespread panic.”

“Panic is already here. Folks are tracking the advancement of the Union Army from the church spires,” Elizabeth said. “Neighbors who have shunned me, even calling me a traitor, have started bringing wheelbarrows of silver and jewelry to the door, begging me to hide their treasures. They should be more afraid of looters than the approaching army.”

“General Ewell will systematically burn all the tobacco in the Shockoe warehouse and other buildings to keep it out of enemy hands,” Jack said.

Elizabeth patted perspiration from her forehead with a dainty lace handkerchief. “I’m not surprised. What about the bridges?”

“The warehouses and bridges will be torched,” Jack added. “Toward morning, the wind will pick up.”

Elizabeth searched the face of one Mallory, then the other. “What are you implying?”

Charlotte tried to sound reassuring, but her anxiety over what they faced was clear in her voice. “When fires are deliberately set, they often burn more than the intended structures.” Richmond was Charlotte’s beloved city, too, and it made her stomach clutch to think so many beautiful buildings would be lost to future generations.

“I don’t know where your information comes from or your insight into future events, nor will I ask,” Elizabeth said.

A knock on the front door brought Jack and Charlotte to their feet. They followed Elizabeth out into the entryway. When the door opened they heard brass bands and drum corps playing with unusual vigor—dueling patriotic songs from both sides of the trenches.

Gaylord, along with the father and son Charlotte and Jack had previously met, and two others of Elizabeth’s friends, entered the house.

A friendly smile spread across Gaylord’s blunt features when he saw Jack and Charlotte. “Our people are in place and ready. We’ll get the major out.”

Jack nodded and extended a welcoming hand to Gaylord. The dim light threw shadows on Jack’s face, emphasizing the strong bones. He looked so much like their father, a man she remembered mostly from family photographs.

Elizabeth gave an intentionally audible sigh. “Good. It won’t be much longer now. There’s food on the table. Come. While we eat, we can work out the logistics of how we’re going to help our men escape.”

Charlotte knew what would take place during the night, but there were additional factors influencing the outcome now; Braham’s existence was the most glaring one. He should never have been here. He should have died in Chimborazo. And what about the parts she and Jack were playing? They should not be in this century. How would the night change because of them? They all ambled into the dining room where, behind closed doors and curtains, they planned the underground’s final mission.

58

Richmond, Virginia, April 1, 1865

Eight weary people sat uneasily around Elizabeth’s dining room table, drinking strong coffee and eating chicken soup, bread, and dried apples. With every rifle shot or cannon rumble, Charlotte glanced toward the windows and doors. They were all facing a bleak night, but it would be followed by a sweet victory when the Union Cavalry marched into town.

Elizabeth drew herself up, lifting a glass in a shaky hand. An extraordinary look appeared on her face, something akin to satisfaction, which brightened her eyes. Jack noticed the look, too, and he relaxed his shoulders, and a smiled curled the corners of his mouth. A restless current meandered through the rest of group. Gaylord kept his face steady, but Charlotte could see something going on inside him—a roiling. He didn’t speak, nor did he need to. He was concerned about Braham and the other men, as was everyone else at the table.

Elizabeth tinged a spoon lightly against the crystal and cleared her throat, getting everyone’s attention. “For four years we have endured martial law, conscription, underfeeding, and horrendous casualties. It will all end in a matter of hours. Please join me now in a toast.”

They all picked up the glasses and stood.

“To the Union,” Elizabeth said.

Everyone responded in a lighthearted yet formal manner. “To the Union.”

The toast signaled a temporary lull in the escalating tension, especially among the men. Charlotte well understood the emptiness of heart she’d sensed in these Unionists; the sense of sleepwalking through life and lying open-eyed at night, finding no rest and knowing only hopelessness. She had seen it in her patients, in their families, and in herself following the death of her mother. To see these men with light in their eyes and hope for their future allowed a semblance of a smile to ease out. The arrival of the Yankees wouldn’t solve all their problems, but it would stop the fear and the suffering.

Now, with assignments made and planning completed, the men said their good-byes and left to rescue Hancock, White, and Lohmann. Jack and Gaylord were assigned to rescue Braham.

Jack whispered into Charlotte’s ear. “Come with me. I need to talk to you.”

She swept into the drawing room behind him like a turbulent weather front. “I’m going with you. Give me a minute to change into pants. You’ll need another set of eyes when several hundred haggard looking men march down the street. You can’t check them all.”

“Maybe not, but Braham knows I’ll be there.”

“You can’t be sure.” The words came quickly and without thought.

“Yes, I can. Because it’s the underlying message you gave him this afternoon. He’ll be looking for me and Gaylord.”

“He’ll be looking for me, too.”

“No, he won’t, because he’ll be praying you’re out of danger.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath and steadied herself. “I’ll follow you, so you might as well take me.”

He collapsed into a chair by the door and dropped his head back, hissing between his teeth. After a moment, he sat forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “I hate to admit this, but I think Gordon was right. I should have instituted a little more control over your life.”

She tried to suppress the dangerous urge blooming in her chest to throw something at him. “What?”

The veins in Jack’s neck were pumped with