Judging Confederates Ch. 1 & 2

Judging Confederates

Chapter 1

         The dampness of the carriage penetrated my bones and prevented me from sleeping. I had been up since three o’clock this morning. My aunt and I had been expecting a servant of my father’s to pick me up yesterday morning and take me to my father in New Hampshire. No one arrived. We had waited up until nearly eleven o’clock for someone to show. Yet, no one came. I added this event to my list of reasons to hate my father.
 
         I hated my father for many reasons. I hated him for forgetting, for being unreliable, for becoming a Yankee (actually I did not hate him for becoming a Yankee, but everyone else did), and for leaving my mother and me in Richmond ten years ago. Yesterday, my father had been given a chance to redeem himself and come when I needed him, but he forgot. He had said he would send someone, and he had not. My father left my mother ten years ago when he moved North and became a Yankee. Now he had forgotten his only daughter.
 
         At three o’clock this morning, pounding on the front door awakened Aunt Susie and me. When my aunt opened the door, a young man, barely twenty-five, stood before us drenched from the rain. He immediately handed my aunt a letter. Aunt Susie let the man in, read the letter, then handed it to me. The letter read:
 
         Please let this man in, give him some food, and then send him on his way with Miss Nell Stuart. I am the servant sent by her father to come get her. A wheel on my wagon broke just outside of Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. I was unable to fix the wheel myself, and I knew people were waiting for me. By the time Miss Stuart reaches Stroudsburg with this man, I will have fixed the wheel and be able to take her on the rest of her journey.
 
         The letter was scrawled hastily, and there was no signature. However, this man appeared to be freezing, and judging by the mud on his clothes, he had come a long distance. Aunt Susie and I had no choice but to believe him. I quickly dressed and brought down my belongings to put on the carriage. The young man seemed anxious to get going. We left after eating a small breakfast of biscuits and honey. Aunt Susie had tears in her eyes as we said goodbye.
 
         “Write to me as soon as you get to your father’s, dear. I want to know you’re safe,” she said.
 
         “I will, Aunt Susie, I will. Goodbye.” Now I was having trouble not crying.
 
         “Goodbye, darling, I love you.” Then Aunt Susie turned away as we left so I could not see her tears, but I saw her shoulders move with silent sobs.
 
         Once inside the carriage and outside of Richmond I had, for the first time in over a year, time to think. I tried not to think of my mother and father and what had happened, but I could not help it. The events were still too fresh on my mind.
 
         I had lived in Richmond my entire life. I was born and raised in a family of what some call “pure Confederates.” We had had everything, and I was the happiest little girl in the South. Then, my father left us and went North to become a Yankee. We lost everything, our friends, our money. We were no longer “pure.” It broke my mother’s heart when he left, and she was never the same again.
 
         When the war broke out, our lives worsened. We sold off the few slaves we had, and our best furniture so we could have a little money. Then my mother became sick. She would feel fine for days then she would have a bad day. On those days, she would cough up blood and could not keep food down. A year ago, the sickness had weakened her so much that she was permanently bedridden. That was when Aunt Susie moved in with us to help take care of her.
 
         I tried to live the life of a regular, seventeen-year-old, Southern belle, but it was not possible. I had not had any friends since I was seven. No gentlemen came to call on me because we were not “pure Confederates,” and all my time was devoted to my mother. All this started because of my father, but now, whether I liked it or not, it had ended.
 
         My mother passed away in her sleep last Tuesday. The funeral was two days ago. People only came because they felt “it was the right thing to do.”
 
         After everyone had left, Aunt Susie told me about my father. Apparently, he had written my mother about a year after he left, inquiring after me and giving us his new address. Six months ago, when the doctor had told us there was no hope of my mother recovering, Aunt Susie wrote my father and told him of the situation. She had gotten a response immediately. My father wrote that if anything happened to my mother since I was not yet eighteen, I was to come and live with him in Exeter, New Hampshire. My mother had no choice but to comply.
 
         After the initial shock of my mother’s death, Aunt Susie again wrote to my father. He promptly replied, and now, here I was, on my way to live with a man I no longer knew.
 
         I remember my father as being very strong and handsome. His eyes were stars, and his hair was the color of the earth. However, the one thing I remember the most about my father was his smell of peppermint. After marrying my mother, my father began to smoke tobacco. My mother hated the odor of it, so my father covered it up with a peppermint scent.
 
         Before my father left, my parents were popular amongst the wealthier Richmond population, and often entertained. Thus, my parents were not always around. However, they chose not to have a nanny take care of me either. I was often left in the care of my father’s valet, and our only white servant, Tom, whom I adored.
 
         Tom often played the role of grandfather for me, since my grandparents were as absent as my parents were. We did everything together. Often, we played tricks on my father like putting paper in the toes of his boots. Tom even helped me skip school one day when I turned seven. He left with my father, and I have no idea what has happened to him.
 
         Now, as I watched the land slowly roll by, I realized I had no idea what happened to many things. As our life fell apart, I sort of drifted by and watched everything happen, never being a part of things. However, now as I rode to my father, I felt myself becoming a part of everything again. A part of me stirred; a longing I had slowly pushed away. I longed for adventure and new places. I longed for a different life, a life without depression and loss. I longed for my father.
 
         We arrived in Stroudsburg just before dark. The carriage stopped outside of a small tavern on the edge of the town. The driver stepped down off his seat and opened the carriage door for me. He gave no hint of following me inside or of directing me somewhere.
 
         Cautiously, I stepped over the threshold of the tavern. There was little light inside. A bar stretched one end of the room and tables filled the rest of the space. A number of men occupied some chairs, but none of them seemed to notice my presence. As I paused by an empty table, a figure rose in a darkened corner. I caught my breath. I knew this figure. Broad shoulders, slightly drooping with age; a stance prepared to serve, arms folded behind the back—Tom! I ran towards him and hugged him. Oh, I had missed him! His embrace brought back many memories, and I felt tears collect in my eyes.
 
         “Miss Stuart, how you’ve grown! I was expectin’ the little girl I left behind ten years ago, not a young woman,” Tom exclaimed after I pulled away. I glared at him at first for thinking that, but my gaze softened because I realized he was joking. “How was you ride?” he asked trying not to laugh.
 
         “It was cold and damp, but otherwise it was fine. I enjoyed the time alone. What?” He was looking at me funny.
 
         “Are you sure you’ve been livin’ in Richmond these past ten years, ‘cause if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been right here in Stroudsburg all along.”
 
         “What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.
 
         “Darlin’, you’ve lost your Southern accent.”
 
         Oh my goodness! I had! It did not bother me so much that I had lost my accent, but that my mother had made me lose it. She had known this was coming. She had been correcting my speech and reminding me of my manners more frequently lately. How could I have been so oblivious?
 
         “No matter,” Tom said after awhile. “Let’s eat dinner now, I’m starvin’.”
 
         We spent that night in the tavern and were on our way first thing he next morning. The trip took three days. Tom mainly took back roads and what he called “short cuts.” He avoided most towns, and we stayed nights at small taverns in the country. When I could, I rode in the driver’s seat with Tom and we talked of old times and new. As we approached Exeter, I became increasingly anxious and my heart jumped in my chest. I now realized how much I had missed my father. I wanted to see him more than anything.
 
         Tom pulled up in front of a tall, white, four story home. It was narrow and bordered by similar houses of different colors. When Tom helped me down from the carriage, the front door opened, and a small, round woman stepped out. She appeared to be about Tom’s age. She appeared anxious and was trying not to smile as Tom and I approached her.
 
         “Nell, this is Mary, your father’s housekeeper. She cleans the house and cooks for you father. Mary, this is Miss Nell Stuart, Mr. Stuart’s daughter.”
 
         “Pleasure,” Mary bubbled. I nodded in reply.
 
         “Mary, would you please show Nell around the house and take her to her room. Nell, I’m going to have to wait until your father and Nat return to bring your trunks in.”
 
         “Who?” I asked.
 
         “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. Nat Porter is a student at the Phillips Exeter Academy here in Exeter. He often works with your father and spends a lot of time here. He will most likely be joinin’ us for dinner tonight.”
 
         "Oh.” I followed Mary inside and handed her my cloak.
 
         “On the first floor, Miss, we have the kitchen with a small storage room off the back, dinin’ room, an’ parlor.” She took me through the rooms and up to the second floor. The walls had real wallpaper on them. In Richmond, we had only been able to afford to paint ours. The furniture was sparse and mismatched. Things appeared as though they were slowly being updated. The second floor contained the library, my father’s study, Nat’s study, and a file room.
 
         As we climbed the stairs to the third level Mary said, “The first room on the right is your father’s; the one on the left is yours. Nat’s room is next to your father’s, an’ Tom’s is at the end of the hall on the left. A guest bedroom is between you an’ Tom.”
 
         “I thought Tom said Nat didn’t live here.” I said.
 
         “He don’t, Miss. He just spends a lot of time with your father. They often work late into the night, so it is easier for him to just sleep here. Otherwise, the room is a guestroom.”
 
         “Oh. Where’s your room?”
 
         “I don’t stay here, Miss. I go home. Now, here’s your room.” She opened the door on her left. It was the most beautiful room I had ever seen. The walls were light blue and white with dark mahogany wood. There was a four-poster bed against one wall. A dresser was against the wall opposite the windows. Additional storage space was located in a closet across from the bed. The windows looked out onto the street. Beneath them were a writing desk, a large armchair, and a small coffee table.
 
         “I’ll leave ya now, but I’ll be downstairs if ya need me. Ya are free to do as ya please since ya can’t unpack at the moment.” She began to leave the room.
 
         “Wait. What about the fourth floor?”
 
         “Oh.” Mary’s eyes grew wide. “Only Mista Stuart and Mista Porter are allowed up there. It is where they work on their most important cases. I’ve never been up there.” She left the room still imagining the forbidden floor.
 
         When I had adjusted to my new surroundings, I sat down at the writing desk and took out a pen and paper from the desk drawer. Like I had promised, I wrote to Aunt Susie and relayed to her all of the events so far. Then, since I had nothing to unpack, I decided to walk around a little. When I came into the kitchen, I found Mary baking.
 
         “Are ya hungry, Miss? I have dinner ready for ya if ya like,” Mary said as I entered. I had nearly forgotten the time. It had to be almost six o’clock.
 
         “When is my father coming home?”
 
         “It’s gonna be another hour or two, Miss.”
 
         “And will he eat dinner then?”
 
         “Of course, he will. A man’s gotta eat, don’t he? Besides, I’ve the best cookin’ in Exeter. Where else would he eat?” She seemed amazed I had even suggested anything else.
 
         “Would you mind if I waited until then to eat? I’m not that hungry right now.”
 
         “Not Hungry! Honey, ya are just a little stick. There ain’t enough of ya to not be hungry. But, if ya really want to wait…Ya have to eat a biscuit though. I just baked ‘em.” I smiled as I took the warm biscuit from her and wandered through the first floor. When I finished my snack, I moved upstairs and into the library. I had never seen so many books in one setting. I pulled a book off a shelf, sat down in a chair, and began reading. It had been a long time since I had read a book. I became so engrossed in my book; I was startled when my father came home.
 
         “Good evening, Mary,” I heard him say.
 
         “Good evenin’, Mista Stuart. Is Mista Porter joinin’ us tonight?”
 
         “Yes, he’ll be here in a few minutes. Is dinner ready?”
 
         “It will be in a bit.”
 
         “Good, I’m starving. I’ll be in the parlor warming my hands.” I heard him turn to go.
 
         “Mista Stuart?” Mary said expectantly.
 
         “Yes, Mary?”
 
         “Shall I send her in?”
 
         “Send whom in?”
 
         “Your daughter, sir.”
 
         “She’s here already!” He sounded nervous.
 
         “Yes, she and Tom got back about an hour an’ a half ago.”
 
         “Oh, very well. Yes, send her in.” I heard a door close, and Mary come upstairs. I met her at the doorway to the library.
 
         “Your father’s in the parlor, Miss.”
 
         “Thank you, Mary.” I nervously descended the stairs and approached the parlor door. I knocked three times.
 
         “Come in,” my father said inside.
I slowly entered the room and closed the door behind me. His back was to me, but as with Tom, I knew it was him. He turned when he heard the door closed. His features had softened a little and his hair showed signs of gray. However, his eyes were still the stars I remembered.
 
         We stood and stared at each other for a few moments. Then I ran into his arms and cried. It was the first time I had cried since my mother died. It was so good to be held by him again. I felt his beard rub against my face, and I took in his smell of peppermint. He still smelled of it, though there were not the traces of tobacco.
 
         “Alex!” The front door slammed and a young voice was calling for my father. “Mary where’s Alex?”
 
         “He’s in the parlor but— “ Mary couldn’t stop him.
 
         A young man burst into the parlor, holding a piece of paper. He was about to say something, then he saw me and froze. He was one of the handsomest young men I had ever seen. Not that I had seen many men. He was tall and dark and appeared to be not that much older than me. His eyes were a sky blue. They were the kind of eyes you could get lost in.
 
         “Nat,” my father broke in, “this is my daughter, Nell. Nell, this is my apprentice, Nat.” Nat bowed slightly and I nodded in return. “Now that we’ve all met, let’s go into the dining room and see if Mary has dinner ready.”
 
         Dinner was one of the best meals I had ever eaten. We had meat with, my favorite, mashed potatoes, corn, and the biscuits Mary had made earlier. We talked about many different topics, except my mother. It was wonderful to be with my father again. Nat turned out to be a very interesting person, though I do not believe he looked at me the entire meal.
 
 
 
Chapter 2

         I soon discovered the reason for Nat’s excitement the night I arrived. He had come to tell my father about a new case they had just been given. My father—and Nat—was going to represent a Confederate officer accused of killing a Yankee officer. Both men were armed and in uniform, but both men were deserters. It seemed like it would be an easy case.

         Easy as it may have been, it took up most of my father’s time. I spent almost two weeks on my own, and hardly speaking or interacting with my father. We lived like two tenants, hardly knowing each other and almost pretending the other was not there. It was the same with Nat.

         When they finally went to court, things were looking good for my father. The judge was Judge Norman Phillips. My father often appeared in court with him presiding. Judge Phillips had yet to rule against my father. Whether or not this had to do with my father personally, we were not sure, but my father and Nat saw it as a plus.

         The investigating detective was Detective Andrew Wilson. My father had never worked with Detective Wilson before, but his good reputation was well known throughout the state. Fortunately for my father, almost all of the evidence Wilson had collected for the case was in favor of my father’s client. The day the verdict was to be brought in, I was allowed to sit in the court audience. Though I was new to this whole process, I was as nervous and excited as the next person was. We all rose when Judge Phillips entered the room and sat when he was seated.

         “Would the defendant please rise?” the judge commanded. My father and his client rose. “I have considered carefully all the evidence and factors in this case and reached my decision. Mr. Stuart, I have found your client guilty of murder and order to have him hanged within the month.

         There was a dead silence in the courtroom. No one saw this coming. My father just stared. His client collapsed. Detective Wilson put his hands to his head and fell to his knees. This was not possible. Everything had been for a positive verdict. Nat, perhaps the only rational one in the room, shook hands with the prosecution after his client had been taken away. He then nudged my father who began walking trance-like. As the pair passed me, Nat grabbed my arm and ushered my father and me out of the building before people began to bombard us.

         Once home, my father went into his office and closed the door. He did not come out again all night. Nat and I ate dinner in silence, not knowing what to say. After dinner, Nat went out for a walk and left me alone. I read in the library for about an hour, then went to bed. Shortly after, I heard the front door open and Nat come home.

         I was awakened with a start by pounding and yelling downstairs. I threw my robe on over my nightgown and went into the hall where I met Nat, still in his clothes. Together, we ran downstairs. As we reached the second floor, we saw police officers break into my father’s office and drag out my father.

         “What are you doing?” Nat yelled, bewildered.

         “Holding Mr. Stuart under arrest,” an officer replied.

         “Why?” Nat was confused.

         “For the murder of Judge Norman Phillips.” I shrieked and would have fainted had Nat not caught me. We watched helplessly as the men ushered my father downstairs and out of the house. For a minute, we just stood there with me still in Nat’s arms. Had I been in this position under different circumstances, I probably would have fainted again. Tom, who had come up behind us, was just as dumbfounded, but he recovered sooner. He helped me up. We managed to move ourselves downstairs to the parlor. Tom lit a fire; though, none of us noticed the cold.

         When dawn came, Mary arrived. Tom silently left the parlor where we still sat. None of us had said anything. Nat and I heard Tom’s muffled voice as he explained what had happened. There was a shriek and then the thump of Mary’s body falling to the floor. We could hear Tom reviving her and leading her away, but he did not return to the parlor.

         I could not take it any longer. My mother had just died. I had moved in with a man I hardly knew anymore. I did not get to spend any time with him to at least try to get to know him. Now they were taking him away from me for murder. I would not believe it. I jumped up and ran from the room screaming. Instead of going upstairs, I ran out the front door and up the walk, still screaming. A pair of arms stopped me before I reached the street.

         “No!” I screamed. “He didn’t do it! He didn’t do it!” Tears were running down my cheeks and I was still in my dressing gown and robe. I must have looked a fright to any passerby. I continued to yell, “He didn’t do it! He is innocent! Why are you doing this? Why are you taking him from me? He didn’t do it!”

         “Nell, stop it!” Nat was the one who had grabbed me. He had dragged me all the way back inside and now shook me violently. “Take control of yourself! Your father wouldn’t want to see you running out and making a fool of yourself like this.”

         “But he didn’t do it,” I pleaded. “He was in his office all night.”

         “You don’t know that. No one saw him while he was in there, so we can’t be sure he was.”

         “No. No!” I began to pull away, but Nat pulled back.

         “Listen,” he said harshly. “I believe he didn’t do it, too, but that’s not how the authorities see it. As far as they are concerned, he was in his office all night, but no one saw him there. And, he had a motive.”

         I calmed down a little. “What are we going to do now?” I asked.

         “There’s nothing we can do. We just have to hope the authorities will not stop here and will continue to look into the case."

         I pulled away again. How could he say that? We could not just sit here and do nothing. How could he even think that? Then I remembered.

         “Oh!” I laughed viciously. “Oh! I see what you’re trying to do.”

         “What?” He looked like he would explode if I said one more thing.

         “You’re trying to cover for yourself. You don’t want them to find out that you did it.”

         “Did what?”

         “Murdered the judge!”

         “What?!”

         “Oh, yes. You were just as disappointed as my father was yesterday. Then you went out for a walk. No one saw you last night either.” I continued to yell and scream at him as I ran up to my room and slammed my door. I flung myself onto my unmade bed and sobbed. My world as I knew it was falling apart.

         When I had calmed myself, I realized my mistake. Nat did not do it. I could tell by the look that had spread across his face when I had accused him. He had known in the back of his mind that he would look just as guilty as my father did. Nevertheless, when he had been accused of it aloud, it had hit him like a sack of potatoes. His life, too, was falling apart. I had made up my mind what I was going to do about it. After I dressed, I went downstairs and knocked on the door of Nat’s study, hoping he was in there.

         “Yes?” came the reply.

         “May I come in?” I heard footsteps and the door opened slowly.
         When Nat had closed the door and sat down behind his desk, I began. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I shouldn’t have accused you the way I did. But you shouldn’t have told me there was nothing I could do.”

         “So, what are you going to do now?”

         “I’m going to find out who really did it.”

         He just laughed at me, “What? You can’t do that.” He turned away and stared out the window.

         “Well?” I said a few moments later.

         “Well, what?”

         “Are you going to help me or not?”

         “What?” he turned to face me again.

         “You say ‘what’ a lot, don’t you? Yes, I want your help. I am only seventeen and new to the area. I can’t do this by myself.”

         “Oh no. I’m not helping you with this.” He put his hands up, stood, and walked to the window.

         “If you help me, I won’t tell anyone about your walk.” At this, he stared at me.
After awhile he said, “All right, but if you get into any trouble, I’m not helping.”

         “Fine. What do we do first?”

         “We go see Detective Wilson.”

         “Wait,” I said as he approached the door. “Where did you go last night?”
He sighed and began to explain. “Like you said, I was disappointed about the verdict. I have a favorite spot in the hills just outside of town. I go there to think. That is where I was. Now can we go?”

         Just as Nat and I were about to leave, there was a knock on the door. Nat opened it and saw Detective Wilson standing there.

         “Detective Wilson! We were just about to come see you,” Nat said with a note of irony in his voice.

         “Is that so? Well, I am glad I could save you the trouble. May I come in?” Detective Wilson was a tall, gangly man. His eyes were a deep green and his eyebrows nearly met above them. He walked with a slight limp and used a cane as a result. A red ribbon was tied tightly at the top of the cane. Why did this look so familiar?

         “Yes, of course,” Nat replied. “Let me take your cloak and hat.” Detective Wilson handed the items to Nat who then put them on the stand by the door. “Detective Wilson, this is Miss Stuart, Alex’s daughter. She just recently arrived from Virginia.”

         “Charmed, Miss Stuart. I am ever so glad you chose to come live here in Exeter.” I heard Nat snort at the last comment behind me.

         “Excuse me,” Mary had come into the room. “Since ya are all here, I was wonderin’ if you’d like a little lunch? How do sandwiches sound? Great. Detective what’ll it be?”

         “Liverwurst and butter, if you have it please.” I made a face. Everyone I knew from back home loved liverwurst and butter sandwiches. I despised them.

         “Miss Stuart?” Mary looked at me.

         “Cheese and butter, please.”

         “And the same for me,” Nat added.

         “Well,” the detective said after Mary left, “what is it you two wanted to talk to me about?”

         “We, well we…” Nat was not sure what to say.

         “You see, Detective Wilson, we believe my father is innocent, and we want to find out who really murdered Judge Phillips.”

         A weird look passed across the detective’s face for a moment, but then he composed himself. “Well, then. How about after lunch, we begin by talking to Mrs. Phillips, the judge’s wife. What do you think?” Nat and I agreed, and we moved into the dining room for lunch.

To Be Continued