Sincerely,
Josephine
She sent the letter with Roselle the next morning and received one in return:
My dear Josephine,
I can feel your frustration and your sense of being trapped. I do suggest a third alternative that is neither an arranged marriage to someone you have no feelings for nor spinsterhood. It’s an option that may seem impossible at the moment but can surely be achieved with God’s help. It is to marry a man you love and make a new life together as partners, the way God intended it to be when He made Eve “bone of Adam’s bone, flesh of his flesh.”
I understand that the desire to please your family and to make an alliance with a man of their choosing must be very strong and ingrained. But the truth is, the only One we are required to please is God. Your mother’s intentions are honorable in that she wishes to see you in a secure situation with all your needs met. But if we serve God and honor Him, He has promised to meet all our needs. That is the very definition of faith—to walk in hope, trusting in what you can’t see or control.
I urge you to take your situation to God, confiding in Him as you have with me, and asking for His guidance and His will. He will show you what to do. Write Him a letter if you must, just as you are writing to me. You need more wisdom than I am able to give you. Stay well, dear Josephine—and please try prayer.
Yours,
Alexander
Prayer? He expected her to pray? Josephine folded the letter and stuffed it into her pocket, unwilling to risk more disappointment by turning to God. Her prayers were as certain to go unanswered now as all the others had in the past.
A week after she and Alexander began exchanging letters, Josephine and her mother were invited to tea at the Blakes’ plantation. As their carriage drew to a halt out front, Jo was amazed to see Harrison hobbling across the yard on crutches, slowly making his way toward the rail fence that marked the boundary of the cotton field. She paused to stare for a moment before going in to tea and felt a surge of happiness for Priscilla—and for him.
“It’s so nice to see Harrison walking around,” she said as she spread her napkin on her lap.
“I have you to thank for it, Josephine. You and Dr. Hunter.” Mrs. Blake smiled as she poured tea into each of their cups.
“Does the doctor still come by?” Mother asked.
“Not every day. It isn’t necessary now that Harrison is doing so much better. He stops in maybe once a week. More if he happens to be out this way.”
Josephine wondered why Mother was asking, then realized that Dr. Hunter hadn’t paid a visit to White Oak lately. Not since the night of the dance, in fact. In the weeks before that, he seemed to visit quite often, even taking Mother for carriage rides.
Mrs. Blake moved to the edge of her seat, as if too excited to sit still. She hadn’t touched her tea. Josephine could tell by her flushed cheeks that she had something on her mind. “Eugenia, dear . . . I understand your girls have been seeing suitors. No, that’s not the right word. But you told me, didn’t you, that you wanted to see your girls happily married? And I saw both Josephine and Mary dancing with young men at the gathering, and . . . well, I will be blunt. I would be so happy if you would consider Harrison as a suitor for Josephine.”
Jo set down her cup, fearing it would slip from her shaking hands and shatter on the floor. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t!
“As you can see,” Priscilla continued, “Harrison is doing so much better now. He walks everywhere with his crutches, and he even rode a horse the other day. The work on the plantation is going smoothly; we have servants and workers and livestock again.”
Josephine wanted to shout, No! But she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
Marrying Harrison would be even more horrible than marrying Henry Schreiber.
Mother replied for her. “Why, Priscilla! I never imagined! What about his engagement to Emma Welch? Might she return now that he’s doing so much better? I wouldn’t want Josephine to be accused of stealing another girl’s beau.”
“It’s over between him and Emma. She moved to Norfolk, and her mother tells me she is seeing other suitors.” Priscilla reached to take Jo’s hand, which had fallen limp on her lap. “I grew so fond of you while you stayed with us, Josephine. You helped me through the most trying time in my life. I already think of you as my daughter. You’ve been so good for Harrison and me. And, Eugenia, you’re my dearest friend,” she said, touching her arm, as well. “This match would be the answer to my fondest wishes.”
Jo still couldn’t speak. She loved Mrs. Blake and was glad she’d been able to help her. But she could never marry Harrison. Never. The thought made her want to throw up.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea!” Mother said. She looked happier than she had in a very long time.
“What do you think, Josephine?” Mrs. Blake asked. “No one is going to make you marry against your will. But when I heard that you were considering Henry Schreiber, I wanted to ask you to consider Harrison, as well. I feel as though you already belong here with us.”
The two women looked at her, waiting for her answer. She tried to speak but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “W-what does Harrison say about it?”
“I talked it over with him and he promised to think about it. But it’s up to the parents to get things started, don’t you think? Nudge things along? Eugenia, I know you’ve been trying to turn Daniel’s thoughts in the direction of marriage, and I feel the same about Harrison.”
“That’s true,” Mother replied. “It’s what needs to happen in order to move forward and get things back to normal. What could be more normal than joining two families in marriage?”
The women chatted on and on about weddings and shared grandchildren, but Josephine was too horrified to say anything at all. She could barely keep a pleasant expression on her face, barely avoid bursting into tears. She wouldn’t hurt Mrs. Blake’s feelings for the world, but the conversation seemed like something from a nightmare, and she wanted to wake up.
They were nearly finished with their visit when Josephine heard the back door open and close, then the scrape and thump of Harrison’s crutches on the wooden floor of the hallway. She could tell that he had halted in the parlor doorway, though she couldn’t bring herself to turn and look up at him.
“Harrison! Come in and say hello to our guests,” Priscilla said. Again Josephine heard the scrape and thump of crutches as he entered the room.
“Good afternoon, ladies. How are you today?”
Josephine finally looked up as her mother greeted him, hoping to see the same revulsion for this idea that she felt, hoping he would think of a way to dissuade his mother without hurting her. Instead, Jo was surprised to see that he had managed to smile. He had gained weight since she’d last seen him and no longer resembled a skeleton, his skin healthy-looking from the sun.
She shuddered as she remembered wrestling with him to get the razor away, his blood pouring out along with his curses. Alexander had come and saved them both, stopping the blood, helping her subdue him . . . piecing her shattered mirror together. He was trying to help her piece her life back together in the same way, but it was proving to be impossible. As impossible as a marriage to Harrison would be. As impossible as her feelings for Alexander.
Her mother and Mrs. Blake continued to talk and plan as they headed toward the door to say good-bye. Josephine managed to pull Harrison aside in the hallway and whisper, “Are you aware of what they’re planning for us?”
“Yes, my mother mentioned it. And just look how happy she is.” He gestured to Mrs. Blake at the same moment that a burst of her laughter filled the foyer.
“You agreed to this?” Jo knew that she had left herself open to his scathing reply, that he might try to hurt her the way he always did, but she needed to know.
“Why not?” he said with a shrug. “I’m shocked that you would need to ask. This is what you’ve wanted for me all along, isn’t it? Aren’t you always tel
ling me to get on with my life and, most of all, to be nice to my mother, to make her happy? You have to admit that the idea of our marriage has made her very happy.”
Jo turned to go, too upset to reply, but he gripped her arm to keep her beside him. “If you refuse this marriage, you will be the one who is hurting her this time.”
She saw that the glint in his eyes was sparked by anger, not happiness. He would go through with this marriage so that his mother would have a companion, then probably kill himself as he’d wanted to do all along. Alexander wouldn’t be able to save either one of them this time. “Do you truly hate me that much, Harrison?”
“Hate you? I’m simply returning the favor. You saved me from suicide; now I’m saving you from spinsterhood. You made an important choice for my life, and now I’m choosing for you. We should both be grateful to each other, don’t you think?”
She pried his hand off her arm. “I hate you,” she whispered.
“Well, I don’t hate you, Josephine. In fact, I admire you. It’s my own life that I hate.”
She struggled to hold her feelings inside during the ride home, trying not to cry, half listening as her mother talked on and on about Jo’s good fortune and how Priscilla was such a dear, dear friend. As the carriage pulled into their lane, Jo realized her mother had asked her a question, and she didn’t know what it was.
“I-I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. What did you say?”
“I asked what you thought about courting Harrison.”
Once again, Josephine feared she might vomit. “I-I have no feelings for Harrison.”
“Well, of course you don’t. Not yet. Do you have feelings for Henry Schreiber?”
“No.”
“Well, see? It will be a luxury to consider more than one suitor. Your brother and Harrison were so close. I can’t help thinking that Samuel would be pleased if you married his friend.”
Josephine’s legs felt unable to hold her as Willy helped her down from the carriage. All she wanted to do was run upstairs to her room where she could finally let herself cry. But she carefully removed her gloves and hat in the foyer so Mother wouldn’t ask questions, then made her way slowly up the stairs to her bedroom.
Mary and Daniel were waiting for her, sitting on her bed. Her letters from Alexander Chandler were in Daniel’s hand.
All of Josephine’s pent-up rage and anguish exploded from her, and she leaped at her brother, trying to tear the letters from his grasp. “What are you doing with those? They’re mine!” He was too strong for her. He easily fended her off as he rose to his feet and held them above his head where she couldn’t reach them. She turned to her sister and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. “How could you, Mary! How could you touch my private things? You have no right!”
“Stop it, Jo!” Daniel said. “Stop it!” He pushed between them and shoved Josephine away from Mary. He had stuffed the crumpled letters into his pocket. “Just sit down and calm down. Do you want Mother to hear you?” He forced Josephine backward until she sank down on Mary’s bed, her trembling legs no longer able to hold her. “Mary showed me the letters because she was worried about you. She says you’ve been meeting that Yankee in the woods, all alone. These letters prove what’s been going on—‘My dear Josephine,’” he mimicked. “‘You should marry for love . . . Yours, Alexander.’”
The thought of Mary and Daniel sitting together, reading her private letters, filled Jo with outrage. She sprang to her feet and lunged at him again. “You have no right! My life is none of your business!”
“Stop shouting,” Daniel said. His voice was low and unnaturally calm as he restrained her. “We’re the ones who have a right to be furious, not you. You’ve been carrying on shamefully with one of our enemies. So listen to me now. You will never see him or talk to him or write to him again, do you understand?” He tightened his grip on her wrists. “Because I’ll place you under lock and key if I have to, to make sure that you don’t. You’re a disgrace, Josephine!”
“No! You’re the disgrace! I know what you’ve been doing. You set the school on fire and beat Otis and Willy and those other helpless people out in the woods. You murdered two defenseless people! You’ll be sorry, too! Alexander Chandler is investigating everything, and he has witnesses. He’s going to find out that it was you!”
“Are you accusing me?”
“Yes! It was you and your friends who did all those terrible things.” She turned to her sister, wanting to hurt her, as well. “Joseph Gray was one of them, Mary. He’s just as guilty as Daniel is. Do you want to marry a man who is capable of murdering innocent people?”
“That’s a lie!” Mary said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Where’s your proof?” Daniel asked. “How dare you make accusations without any proof?”
“I know that you and the others went out that night. Your jacket smelled of smoke the next day.”
“That could have come from any campfire or even from a fireplace,” he said with a shrug. “But I have proof of what you’re doing, right here!” He pulled the letters from his pocket and waved them at her. “Shall I show these to Mother?”
“Go ahead. They’re just letters. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I saw you with him in the woods,” Mary said. “You were holding his hand.”
“I’d say you have plenty to be ashamed of,” Daniel finished. “But listen to me. You’ve not only put your own reputation at risk, but you’re jeopardizing your family’s safety. Do you know what they do to people who collaborate with the enemy? Do you?”
“Get out of here, both of you! Go away and leave me alone!”
Daniel shook his head. “I’ve decided not to tell Mother what you’ve been doing because it would kill her, Josephine. You’ll break her heart. She has suffered enough already. But from this moment on I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you. There will be no more meetings and no more letters.”
Someone knocked on the bedroom door, and a moment later Mother came inside, still glowing from her visit with Priscilla. “Well, here you all are! Did Josephine tell you her good news?”
“No, what news?” Daniel broke into a smile, casually sliding the letters back into his pocket.
“Harrison Blake is interested in courting Josephine!” Was Mother truly that blind? Couldn’t she see the anger on their faces or feel the tension in the room?
“That’s wonderful news, Josephine,” Daniel said, turning to her. “No wonder you look so happy. See, Mother, she’s crying tears of joy. I certainly give my approval to the match. Harrison is an even better catch than Henry Schreiber.”
Daniel finally managed to herd Mother and Mary from the room, leaving Josephine alone at last. Her world had been shaken to pieces just as it had been shaken during the war. The devastating losses had already begun: the loss of her freedom, her independence, the loss of her friendship with Alexander . . . and there was nothing she could do about it.
She would write one last letter to him and give it to Roselle to deliver tomorrow morning. Daniel had taken away her writing paper, but she tore a scrap from the margin of one of her books and wrote on it:
Dear Alexander,
Our letters have been discovered. We cannot see each other or write to each other anymore. I’m so sorry.
Josephine
28
JULY 13, 1865
“Where is Josephine?” Eugenia asked at breakfast. “Isn’t she coming downstairs? Her food is getting cold.”
Mary stared at the tabletop. “Jo said to eat without her,” she mumbled. “She doesn’t feel well.” The dance had put new life into Mary and she had seemed so happy and confident in the days that followed. Eugenia hoped she wasn’t going to turn back into a frightened rabbit again.
“Are you ill, too?”
“No.”
“Then kindly stop sitting there like a wilting flower and eat your breakfast. And please stop chewing your fingers.” Mary pulled her fingers out of her mou
th and picked up her fork, but her shoulders were still hunched. “Must I add you to my list of worries, too?”
“No, Mother.”
“Josephine didn’t come down for supper last night, and now she’s skipping breakfast? It isn’t like her to get sick.”
The meal seemed very subdued with neither Mary nor Daniel saying much. They had been quiet at dinner last night, too. As soon as Eugenia finished eating, she went upstairs to Josephine’s room and found her still in bed with the pillow over her head, the curtains closed.
“Are you all right, dear?” Eugenia parted the mosquito netting and lifted the pillow off her face. Josephine’s eyes were red and watery, her nose congested. “You’ve been in this room since yesterday afternoon.”
“I don’t feel well.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just a summer cold. I’ll be fine.”
“Do you have a fever?” Eugenia laid her hand on Jo’s brow. It felt warm and clammy, but then the entire bedroom was humid and stifling even though the day had just begun. “Why don’t you come downstairs? It’s cooler in the drawing room where there’s at least a breeze from the terrace.”
“No, thank you. I don’t want to make everyone else sick. ”
“Well, you’ve caught this cold at a very bad time. With two eligible suitors showing interest, you should be paying visits and accepting callers.”
“I’m sorry,” Jo said. Her nightgown and hair were damp with sweat. The bed sheets, too. She did indeed look miserable.
“I am simply thrilled about your prospects, dear. Someday you’ll look back at this as one of the happiest times in your life.”
Josephine didn’t reply. She covered her eyes with her hand.
“You never told me what you thought about Harrison as a suitor? I don’t want to rush you into anything, but you do know that Priscilla and I would be overjoyed if you two decided to marry.”
“I haven’t been able to think about anything. I’ve had a very bad headache since yesterday.”
“I realize you’re probably not in love with either man yet, but I hope you remember what the alternative is.”