My Daughter's Legacy Read online

  And she couldn’t blame the woman now for growing weary. These were hard times. But it was her mother’s fear that concerned her most. Father always said fear made people irrational, and Mother was beginning to show signs of just that. Only the day before, she had said, “He never would have asked us to make such foolish pledges if he’d known we’d be on the verge of starvation.”

  Neither of them was close to starving, but Therese knew that was Mother’s fear. Yet nothing had changed at Grandfather’s plantation. In fact, it had only grown worse. Before the war, he’d talked about freeing his “servants” but then did no such thing. His tone shifted when the war started, and then by the time the fighting reached Virginian soil, he adamantly refused to even consider it. Instead, he raised less and less tobacco and sold off, over the last three years, a number of his slaves to help pay his bills.

  Mother was still packing when Therese stepped into the small dining room, so she unwrapped the food—ham along with cornbread and two apple turnovers. God bless Auntie Vera. Therese had just finished arranging the food on plates when Mother appeared in her black silk dress, carpetbag in hand.

  She set the bag beside Therese’s near the door, and then they both sat and bowed their heads. Mother started the blessing.

  Therese felt conflicted about eating the food that had come from River Pines, but the savory scent of the ham was irresistible. She half listened to her mother’s flowery words as she added her own silent prayer of gratitude.

  After Mother’s “Amen,” Therese waited for her to take the first bite, but she seemed to hesitate.

  “God provides,” Mother said finally, and then she met Therese’s eyes. “Doesn’t He?”

  Therese certainly couldn’t disagree. Food and money for the ferry. If only she could know what awaited them at Grandfather’s. She gave her mother a nod before turning her attention to the plate in front of her and cutting the ham.

  If her father hadn’t fallen ill, Therese’s life would be so different now. She would have taken a job as a governess, teaching in the home of a wealthy family in Richmond and contributing to her family’s finances. When she was sixteen, she had attended the Women’s Institute for a year, boarding there along with her best friend, Polly, and studying to be a teacher. It was a lovely four-story building surrounded by a brick wall with gardens and stables, located downtown on Tenth Street between Marshall and Clay. But then the war began, and Mother had insisted she come home. The school closed shortly after. But even just one year of teacher training had more than qualified her to work as a governess.

  That’s what Polly was doing now, living with a family in Richmond and teaching their two children. But both of Polly’s parents were alive and could care for one another, not to mention Polly was the most daring person Therese had ever known. She was always up for an adventure and never hesitated to speak her mind. Therese didn’t have the courage her friend did, but if life had turned out differently, she thought she would have been fine working as a governess too.

  Therese slowly savored a bite of ham. Then she ate another and another. But she couldn’t make it last forever—they needed to leave soon, and honestly, she looked forward to a ride in Grandfather’s buggy. Mother and Therese’s only horse and their old, rickety wagon had both been confiscated by soldiers three months before and taken off to the Shenandoah Valley. They had no hope of ever seeing either again.

  When she finished the last bite of food, she rose and cleared their plates and then quickly wiped the dishes while Mother remained at the table. After Therese put everything away, wondering how long it would be until they returned, she stepped toward the window. Badan had seen to Grandfather’s horses and was waiting at the fence.

  Therese walked to the door and grabbed their bags and her worn parasol. “Ready?”

  Mother stood. “Yes, I am. I’ve never been so ready for anything in my entire life.”

  Therese winced. This seemed to be the opportunity Mother had been looking for to escape their lowly existence.

  As they left the cottage, Mother didn’t look back. But Therese did. She thought of all the happy years her family had spent living here. Then the war had started, her brother Warner left to join the Confederate Army, and Father fell ill. They’d moved a bed into the parlor to be able to care for him better until he died. She imagined him there now, watching them go. If only she could run back and hug him one last time. If only she could assure him, and herself, that she’d continue to stand up for the ideals he taught her, no matter what.

  By the time they reached the ferry, Mother was limp from the heat. But then a hint of breeze rose up from the river, and Therese moved closer, breathing in deeply, while her mother paid their fare.

  “He said it will be a while before we go if we’d rather wait here.” Mother gestured to a nearby bench resting in the shade of an oak tree. They were heading there when Therese heard someone call her name. She turned and spied her friend Polly, already on the ferry and waving her over.

  “Well, look who it is. You go ahead.” Mother lowered herself to the bench with a weary sigh. “I’ll be there in a bit. I’m staying in the shade as long as I can.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Therese felt revived as she hurried toward her friend. It had been nearly a year since they’d seen each other.

  After a long embrace, they chatted and laughed and caught up as best they could. Finally, Therese asked Polly what she was doing there. “Shouldn’t you be in Richmond?”

  Polly grinned. “I came home for a few days. Michael is back from France.”

  Therese’s heart raced. “Oh?”

  “He sailed into New York a few weeks ago and then made his way south by land. He thought that would be safer than trying to run the blockade at sea.”

  “How is he?”

  “You know my brother. He seems fine even though so many things happened while he was there. Would you believe he rescued a priceless heirloom from the Alabama?”

  “He what?”

  Polly grinned. “Sorry. I’m being a little dramatic. Here’s what happened. A priceless heirloom was stolen from a Richmond rabbi, and it ended up getting confiscated at sea. When the Alabama was in Cherbourg, just before the big battle, the heirloom was unloaded from the ship along with lots of other valuables. After the sinking, Michael asked around and was able to locate the heirloom, buy it, and bring it back with him to give to its rightful owner. Isn’t that amazing?”

  Polly continued with her tale, but Therese slowly tuned her out. All she could think was, Michael is home.

  Two years older than Therese and Polly, Michael was the same age as Therese’s brother Warner. He’d attended Box Tree Male Academy, the boarding school where her father taught, and although Father never said it, Therese was sure Michael had been his favorite student. He was much more scholarly than Warner had ever been. The two classmates weren’t especially close, probably due to Warner being a bit of a rascal, but they’d always been amiable.

  Because Therese and her family lived on the grounds of the school, she and Michael saw each other fairly often. She had always been smitten with him, though she’d done her best to keep that particular secret to herself, not even telling Polly. Only Father seemed to have guessed at her true feelings. And although he greatly admired Michael, he didn’t want Therese to make any rash decisions at such a young age. So he’d asked, the only time in his life, for Grandfather’s help, requesting he pay the tuition to send Therese off to school in Richmond with Polly.

  Not that it mattered in the long run, because just a few months after Therese left for school, Michael’s parents sent him away to France on behalf of the family business. Therese had hoped he’d write, but in the four years he’d been gone, she’d never received a single letter. Granted, she’d never been sure whether her romantic feelings were reciprocated or not, but she’d at least thought they were friends. Apparently, he’d meant far more to her than she ever had to him.

  Still, as much as she tried, she
couldn’t forget their walks around the pond behind the academy or the afternoons they’d shared a bench in the commons behind the enchanting Tudor-style building, discussing a sonnet or passage from Scripture. She treasured the time they’d spent together. Life seemed so peaceful then. So safe. They shared the same passionate ideals and hopes for the future. She felt understood by him and cherished in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She’d felt as if there were an invisible thread between them, connecting them. He’d look for her in the dining hall and smile when he spotted her. She’d seek him out by the pond and join him there. If they found themselves in the same room, no matter how crowded, somehow they would eventually end up side by side.

  The last time she’d seen him was in the courtyard of the academy. She was wearing a new frock and had taken extra care to look her best for her trip into Richmond. As they drew near to each other for their final farewell, she thought she could see in his eyes the same emotions she was feeling. Love. Sadness. Hope. They said goodbye, and though she yearned to throw her arms around him, in such a public place she had to settle for a simple curtsy instead, their eyes lingering even as their touch could not. But it seemed she’d imagined all of that.

  When the war first started, Michael had been criticized severely in the community for not returning to Virginia to join in the fight, but after his two younger brothers, twins Gerald and Victor, died on the same day in the same battle, those who once spoke badly about Michael held their tongues—except for Mother, who never changed her opinion on his “terrible cowardice.” Therese, however, was secretly grateful that he stayed away no matter how much she missed him. Not only did she want him far from the dangers of war, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him fighting for the system that enabled slavery to exist.

  Though she’d never told anyone, Therese had always felt intensely conflicted about the war. She wanted Virginia and all the southern states to retain their independence, which meant the South winning. But she wanted the slaves to be freed, which meant the North winning. Most of all, she just wanted the fighting to stop. She couldn’t bear the thought of more men dying, especially those she knew and cared for.

  “How is he?” she asked Polly now, trying hard to keep her tone light.

  “Just fine. His time in France was productive. And he really enjoyed living with our French cousins, though hearing all the bad news of the war was tough, especially when…” Polly’s eyes filled with sudden tears.

  Therese nodded, patting her friend’s hand. “I can imagine,” she said softly.

  She politely looked away so Polly could pull herself together. Directing her eyes toward shore, she saw that Mother was still resting in the shade, though several other passengers had joined her there.

  When Polly spoke again, her tone was almost conspiratorial. “I think Michael has a French sweetheart.”

  Therese’s head whipped around. “He told you that?”

  “No, but I figured it out anyway. To begin with, he brought home the most exquisite trinket box. It’s small and round, with tiny pink porcelain roses on top. At first I thought it might be for me or Mother, but it wasn’t. He brought us each one of these.”

  Polly twirled the handle of the parasol she was holding, and Therese looked up to see that it was a lovely pink satin with delicate lace trim.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It is,” Polly said. “But I wanted to know more about that box.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “Yes. I waited until later, when we were alone, so he could speak freely. But he just tucked it into his trunk and told me to mind my own business. He acted real funny about it.”

  “Still, that doesn’t mean—”

  “I went back later and took a closer look.”

  “Polly!”

  She grinned. “Hey, I’m his sister. I have a right to know if he’s in love with some mademoiselle.”

  Therese hated herself for asking. “And?”

  “And there was nothing inside the little container, nothing engraved on it or anything like that.”

  “So what makes you think he has a sweetheart?”

  “Because when I went to put it back in his trunk, I discovered a couple of photographs.” She smiled triumphantly. “They were of Michael posed with a beautiful young woman, looking very much like a couple.”

  Therese’s stomach dropped.

  “They were cartes de visite,” Polly added, referring to the popular prints that were the size and thickness of visiting cards. Cartes de visite had become hugely popular of late, partly because they were made from paper, which meant they were less expensive and far less fragile than previous kinds of photographs, such as ambrotypes, which were made from glass plates. If Michael had posed with a woman for some cartes de visite, then Polly had to be right. He’d found himself a French sweetheart indeed.

  “So he plans to return to France, then?” Therese asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the sudden ache in her heart.

  “Or bring her here. I don’t know. Either way, nothing can happen until the war is over.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “In the meantime, he’s going into the army as a second lieutenant. He’ll be working as a field hospital quartermaster with the 1st Virginia Infantry.”

  Therese’s eyes widened. “That’s Warner’s unit.” Her pulse surged with fear even as she told herself that at least Michael would be safer procuring supplies for the hospital than fighting.

  They were interrupted by the activity of a wagon being rolled onto the ferry. They shifted over to the railing, and then Therese turned her attention back to Polly. “So where are you going now? Shouldn’t you be headed to Richmond?”

  “I am, just in a roundabout fashion. I have to go to the church to pick up some books from a member of the parish. I’ll spend the night at my aunt and uncle’s.” Polly’s parents lived on an old family property here on the north side of the river, while her uncle’s family lived on the south side, about five miles from River Pines. “Then tomorrow they’ll drop me at the station, and I’ll be able to loop back around to the city by train.”

  “That’s a pretty big detour. Hope the books are worth it.”

  She shrugged. “They’re not for me. I’m just doing a favor for one of the priests over at St. Paul’s. I’ll drop them off to him tomorrow before I go back to the Baxters’. How about you two?”

  “We’re headed to Grandfather’s place.”

  Polly gave her a questioning look, and Therese was about to elaborate when she heard shuffling behind her and realized that the rest of the passengers, including Mother, had boarded. So instead Therese simply added that he’d been injured in a fall. Mother wouldn’t want her to go into too many details, especially when they knew so little.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Polly replied. “I’ll keep him in prayer.”

  The three women sat down on the bench along the far side as two more wagons rolled onto the flat-bottomed vessel. Finally, Badan drove the buggy aboard.

  The ferry set off, the captain navigating with his pole. Therese welcomed the coolness of the river water lapping against the boat. She gazed across at the opposite landing, framed by trees. Not too far beyond was the church where they were members, Manakin Episcopal. Though it had been founded by French Huguenots in 1701, the church, according to the laws of the Commonwealth of Virginia, had to be under the Church of England and therefore Anglican. At least the congregants had been able to worship in French for several decades before embracing the language of their new country in their services.

  As they slowly made their way across the river, Mother asked after Polly’s family. She replied that her parents were fine and that they’d had a letter recently from Lance, her youngest brother, who was now serving in Georgia.

  “Oh, dear,” Therese said. Sherman’s current campaign involved a number of horrid battles throughout northwest Georgia and around Atlanta. For years the Union kept making tactical mistakes, but now it seemed that perhaps
the Northern Army’s decision making and fortune had both improved due to the new leadership of Grant and Sherman.

  Polly asked what they’d heard from Warner.

  “He’s still near Petersburg,” Mother answered. “Not that far away, although he has never come to visit.”

  No doubt Warner would come home if he could. Petersburg had been under siege for a couple of months. When Father died, the fighting had been so bad that Warner had simply sent a note saying he was sorry to have missed the funeral, that he was fine, and that he hoped Mother and Therese were doing as well as could be expected. “It’s hard to get passes,” Therese said to Mother.

  “Yes,” Polly interjected. “That’s what I’ve heard too.”

  Warner’s regiment had been in battle after battle. Bull Run. Antietam. Fredericksburg. Chancellorsville. Gettysburg. And now Petersburg. So many had died or been wounded, but not her brother—not yet, anyway. She prayed his good fortune would hold.

  Therese asked how things were in Richmond. “All right,” Polly said. “More crowded by the day.”

  The city had grown enormously since the war started, partly because it had become the Confederate capital and partly because it had been forced to absorb a huge number of refugees who’d fled their homes ahead of Union forces. Therese heard Richmond had grown from a population of thirty-eight thousand at the beginning of the war to currently well over a hundred thousand—and was still expanding.

  “All those people.” Mother clicked her tongue. “It must be dangerous.”

  “Not really. There are a lot of soldiers around. And we are still under martial law.”

  “Which must be incredibly unnerving.”

  “Not at all. It’s been three years, and everyone’s used to it by now.”

  Mother frowned. “What about the food shortages?”