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

blood, his hands opening and closing. “I don’t have time for this right now, Charlotte. Don’t be an idiot. You don’t belong out there tonight. You’ve read the books. You know what’s going to happen. Stay home. Stay safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. You put yourself in danger this afternoon. You’ve used your lucky quota for the day. Stay here. Get your medical supplies ready. You might have more than one patient before the night is over. None of us can do what you can do.”

Charlotte sighed, reluctantly convinced. “Take a jacket, hat, and boots for Braham so he can slip into the crowd unnoticed, and take these, too.” She gave Jack two pain pills. “The others will have worn off by now.”

Jack pointed to a brown paper-wrapped package on the table next to the whisky. “Jacket and boots. I’ll give him my hat to wear.”

“I should have known you’d be prepared.”

He stood and placed his hands on her shoulders to give her a little squeeze. “Relax and trust me. I’ll bring your patient back as soon as I can.”

She bit down on the corner of her lip, her eyes fixed on him. “Be careful. Please don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

As they walked to the front door together, she cocked her head and studied the play of shadows over his face. Although his features were set, he was calm and confident. She had to work at not smiling. The siblings were both very competent people, but their fear of losing each other inevitably got in the way of rational thought, and caused unnecessary stress and anxiety.

Charlotte watched from the open door until he was out of sight. If anything happened to him—

Elizabeth came up beside Charlotte and wrapped her arm around her waist, interrupting her thoughts. “Let’s go out onto the terrace. The Confederate infantry is passing through the city.”

Charlotte, Elizabeth, and a few of the servants watched from the terrace as the infantry, followed by a mule-drawn supply train, rumbled over the cobbled streets.

“What will happen now?” one of the young servants asked. “Folks say the Yankees will burn Richmond like they burned Columbia.”

“Any fires tonight won’t be the fault of the Yankees,” Charlotte said.

“What time will the prisons be evacuated?” Elizabeth asked.

Charlotte pulled her lower lip through her teeth, thinking. “Now the troops have left, the prisoners will follow.”

Elizabeth folded her arms, shivering. “I’ve seen enough. I’m going back in. It’s a warm night, but I’m chilled.”

The two women sat in the candlelit parlor. Richmond’s mayor had ordered the gas lighting and gas that fed it be turned off, plummeting the entire city into darkness. Candle flames wavered and flickered, filling the room with dancing shadows. A strange paralysis took hold of Charlotte, partly due to the day’s trauma, and partly because of the night’s promised destruction. Through an open window topped by faded velvet draperies, a warm gust tousled the sheer lace curtains beneath.

The sounds of musket fire and cannon blasts drew nearer, but the shouts right outside the house alarmed her. She hurried over to the window and pulled back a corner of the drapes. Elizabeth joined her. On the lawn, a group of men clustered, shouting. Many of them carried burning torches.

“They’ve come to burn us out,” Elizabeth said, moving quickly to the front door.

Charlotte’s sense of unease reached a high pitch. She grabbed Elizabeth’s hand. “You can’t go out there. Those men are dangerous.”

Elizabeth’s cold, trembling fingers clasped Charlotte’s. “If I don’t, they’ll burn the house down on top of us.”

“Give me a gun. We’re not going out there without protection.”

Elizabeth exhaled a pent-up breath. “There’re a dozen men in the yard. What are you going to do? Shoot them all?”

Charlotte glanced at the door. “I couldn’t even shoot one, but they don’t know what I’m capable of doing…or not doing. Give me a gun. It doesn’t have to be loaded.”

“No. You’ll get yourself shot. Stay here.”

Charlotte put her fist on her hip, huffing, as she tapped her foot on the Oriental rug. “Damn it. I’ve already been told once tonight to stay put. It’s not going to work a second time. If you’re going out there, so am I.”

Elizabeth swirled her shawl around her shoulders. “Let me do the talking, then. These are my neighbors.”

Charlotte snatched her shawl off the coat tree and followed Elizabeth out onto the porch to face a dozen snarled faces with eyes glowing red in the light.

A man reeking of whisky yelled, “Lincoln lover.”

Another yelled, “Traitor.”

“We’re burning this Union house to the ground.”

A man threw his torch, but it landed just shy of the house. Inwardly Charlotte cringed. Although she knew the house would not be burned down, she held onto the knowledge like a mantra, repeating the historical fact over and over in her mind.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” Elizabeth faced the instigators erect and unbendable, a beacon of bravery. “I know you…and you…and you,” she said, pointing.

The mob moved forward, chanting, “Burn it down. Burn it down.”

Flames from the torches heated Charlotte’s face in the cool night air. For a terrifying moment, she no longer trusted history. Her knees shook, and she was momentarily sure the men would burn down the house. If the house caught fire, she would have to run in and rescue her medical kit. The bag was on the table next to the window in her bedroom. If she got up the stairs, though, would she have enough time to get back down?

Elizabeth stepped to the edge of the porch and, in an unfaltering voice, threatened the mob, saying, “General Grant will be here in the morning. Burn my house and he’ll burn yours.”

“Burn yours,” echoed Charlotte, and the words came out louder than she’d intended. She shifted uneasily as one of the men advanced closer to the house, his threatening torch waving in the air.

The rest of the men muttered among themselves. One man dropped his torch and then another. Charlotte took a tentative breath. There seemed to be a temporary standoff, and