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

both brooches up in a secure location—like Fort Knox, or the basement of the New York Federal Reserve Bank.

“What about the clergy? Can Reverend Moore get into the prison now?” Jack asked.

“Or a doctor?” Charlotte asked.

“A doctor would have the most success, but we don’t have a doctor we can trust.”

Jack skewered Charlotte with a long, cool glare, twitched his shoulders irritably, and then quickly hid his emotions behind a mask of pleasant blandness.

She kept her features composed, choosing not to have a body language battle with her brother, but then reconsidered, turned in her seat, and gave Jack a good view of her back. “I rescued Braham from Chimborazo in October by impersonating a Confederate surgeon. This time I don’t need to get him out. I only need to get a message to him. Do you think you could get me inside? I could tell them I’m there to evaluate the injured, or…something.”

Elizabeth tapped the chair arms with white, elegant fingers tipped with neatly trimmed nails. “If the prisoners are going to be evacuated tomorrow then your idea might work. Will they travel by train?”

“There won’t be any available. They’ll have to walk,” Jack said.

Van Lew shook her head, sighing. “With Lohmann, Hancock, and White locked up, all other operatives have had to shoulder extra burdens. It’s why the major was at the tavern. The Confederates believe if they punish every Unionist, we’ll scale down activities out of fear. What they don’t understand is their activities spur us to take greater risks.”

“Someone betrayed the major last fall,” Charlotte said.

“We believe someone in Washington or Maryland tipped off the authorities about our activities.” Elizabeth went to the doorway and pulled the sliding doors together. “I’m a pragmatic person. And while I’ve patiently listened to your stories and predictions, I don’t know how it’s possible for you to have the information you have unless you’re using a scrying bowl. In which case, I have absolutely no confidence in what you’re telling me.”

Charlotte’s emotions were a turbulent cocktail of worry and fear, and she was having trouble accessing her well-practiced professional calm. If Elizabeth wouldn’t help them, the rescue would be twice as difficult. “What we’re—”

Elizabeth held up her hand. “Please let me finish. I have known Carlton Jackson Mallory my entire life. I’ve attended parties at Mallory Plantation and the Mallorys have attended dinners here. I’ve never heard your names mentioned. I don’t know who you are, but you look enough like Carlton’s wife, Kathleen, to be her twin sister,” she said to Charlotte. “You could be a distant relative. I don’t believe you’ll betray me. I’m very fond of Major McCabe, and I can see in your eyes, Miss Mallory, you are, too.”

Elizabeth yanked on a tasseled bell pull. “I have an appointment in the city center and may be able to have a plan in place by the time I return. In the meantime, I’ll have rooms prepared for you. I’m sure after your long journey you’d like a bath and breakfast.”

Jack reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a roll of bills, and handed the roll to their hostess. “Thank you for trusting us. This money is for you, and for those people who’d be more receptive to turning a blind eye if they had cash in their hands. If food is available for purchase, you’ll need to stock up on food and supplies. You might soon have a house full of visitors.”

Elizabeth clasped the money to her chest and relief relaxed some of the tightness from her face. “If placed in the proper hands, these funds will help immensely. While you freshen up and rest, I’ll call on a few people who might be able to help.”

“Any news of Braham’s condition would be welcome,” Charlotte said.

Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “With this money, I’ll get more information than I could have without it. Rest now. I’ll be back soon.”

As Charlotte climbed the sweeping staircase of the Van Lew mansion, a premonition told her the next forty-eight hours would be worse than she could possibly imagine. Even with all she and Jack knew about the future, they knew nothing of Major Michael Abraham McCabe’s future. Would he survive? Had he been living on borrowed time since his October rescue? Was she on a fool’s mission? She couldn’t answer her questions, but her heart urged her forward.

When she reached the top landing, Charlotte turned to watch Elizabeth swing a cape around her shoulders, pick up a fruit basket, and quietly leave the house. Charlotte prayed silently, hoping when she returned she’d bring news—good news—because at the moment, hope was all they had.

51

Richmond, Virginia, March 31, 1865

Late in the evening, the atmosphere was damp and heavy, which seemed to match her emotional state. Charlotte, Jack, and Elizabeth had sneaked out of the mansion for a clandestine meeting. Elizabeth carried a basket of cakes on her arm to share with those less fortunate. The threesome hurried quietly through the darkened streets toward a farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, slipping from shadow to shadow under low, dark clouds. Grant’s guns muttering in the background made the late-night conclave even more ominous.

They reached a white clapboard farmhouse with its curtains tightly drawn. A thin woman who appeared to be in very poor health, pale with dark hollows under her eyes, opened the door and led them across the yellow pine floors to the back of the small, cramped house. Two men, a father and son, sat on a long bench drinking tea.

“Did anyone follow you?” The woman looked like she had been pushed to the brink of her endurance. Her hands shook noticeably.

“Jack came along a short distance behind us, keeping watch,” Charlotte said.

He gave the woman a tight smile. “No one followed us except an old hoot owl.”

The woman’s shoulders noticeably relaxed. “Sit. I’ll pour tea.”

Steam from the kettle on an old wood stove took the edge off the chill in the room, and