Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (37 page)

During the days they stared out the windows
in disbelief that they couldn’t carry out their quest, and at
night, they drank their frustration away with Daddy’s fine wine
collection and high-priced cigars. They managed to make their way
to the cellar and clear out most of the bottles.

Their drunken stupors went on all night. They
hollered it up while drinking, smoking, and playing cards. By the
third night, Eugenia had enough of their breaking her crystal
glasses and finally spoke up.

I left Warren to see what the matter was
downstairs. The swelling had diminished greatly, and he was almost
able to care for himself.

“Thank you for all your help. Your kind,
loving hands have made me well.”

I couldn’t look his way.

“You are a beautiful mother to be. Though my
days are numbered, it is good to know you will care for our baby
long after I’m gone,” he said before he drifted off to sleep
again.

“You men have no shame! Look what you have
done to my home. It’s in shambles!” Eugenia shrieked, picking up
the broken glass.

“Come now, Mrs. Arrington,” Colonel Smith
chuckled and picked up a piece beside her foot. “No need to get
huffy. Drink with us.”

I watched as he tugged on the seam of her
skirt and lifted it up to catch a peek underneath.

“How dare you!” she snapped and kicked his
hand away. All the men roared with laughter and poured more
wine.

“There, there, calm down, dear woman,” he
crooned and went to embrace her. Eugenia’s face turned beet red,
and she tilted her head away in disgust as he tried to kiss her.
“How long has it been since your husband was here to show you some
affection? Months perhaps? You need me as much as I need you.”

“Get off me!”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it!” he flared
and held her so he could place quick pecks on her cheeks.

Eugenia began to panic as Sergeant Byron held
her arms back to allow Colonel Smith to fondle her.

“Leave me alone this instant! Stop it!”

“I see where your daughter gets her figure
from,” he murmured between lustful, drunk kisses.

Eugenia tried to fight the men off, but they
soon overpowered her. Even Phineas was in on the dreadful act.
After he noticed me watching in horror, he nudged me back before
closing the pocket doors and said, “They’re just having fun. No
business of yours. Go run along now.”

Eugenia’s panicked howls and the soldiers’
contemptuous laughter were muffled once the doors were closed. I
stood in the foyer, frozen. I wanted to run for Hamilton and have
him save Eugenia from the men, but I knew they would kill him if he
interfered. Warren couldn’t help. Mammy, Hattie, and I were useless
against them. There was nothing I could do, and it pained me as an
hour went by and the doors remained locked.

Finally they opened the doors, and I stepped
undetected into the shadows of the night. Sergeant Byron and
Corporal Phineas left snickering, heading to the kitchen, no doubt
to scrounge for something to eat. Next the colonel came out,
tucking in his shirt. He staggered toward the kitchen with his
cigar in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

In between booms of thunder, I crept into the
parlor. Eugenia sat on the floor, disheveled, clutching her clothes
and attempting to cover herself, quietly weeping. I wanted to go to
her, to comfort her, to tell her I understood, but I couldn’t find
the nerve. I was too afraid of the rejection, the hostile feelings
she harbored for me, and the animosity she never let go.

It was pitiful to watch her try and dress
herself, knowing what had just happened to her.

It took two days without rain for the water
to recede. But the roads were thick with mud, and broken trees
blocked the road to Savannah. Warren was grateful to have more time
and made the most of our days by pleading with me to try and escape
with him. It would have been possible, as Colonel Smith was now
preoccupied with Eugenia. The other men wanted to make an attempt
at leaving, but the colonel wasn’t finished having his way with
her.

“Tomorrow. One more day,” he would say,
excuse himself, and let himself into Eugenia’s room. I hadn’t seen
her for days. She kept herself away and no longer screamed when the
colonel came to her.

I was sick to my stomach and wanted the
nightmare to end. But how? How would this all end without major
bloodshed? It seemed that everyone was ignoring our quandary.
Sergeant Byron kept himself occupied by playing solitaire, and
Corporal Barrows caught up on much-needed sleep. The two of them
simply ignored the repeated rape.

Mammy and Hattie stayed clear of the mansion,
and it was best that way. When Warren was well enough to walk he
was tied up in his old bed until the soldiers could make the trip
to Savannah.

Somehow, the men trusted me not to do
anything foolish and jeopardize my own life, my unborn baby’s life,
and the lives of others. I was so weak with fear - they were
right.

“Untie me. We can escape before anyone knows
we’re gone,” Warren begged.

“They will kill Hattie and Mammy. And
Hamilton and Eugenia. I will never let that happen,” I replied
flatly.

“Who’s to say they won’t kill them anyway?”
he retorted, his eyes fiery and fixated on me.

“They won’t.”

Warren was becoming frustrated with me, and
before he could pressure me anymore, I left as he called after
me.

Emotionally drained, I wandered down the
hall, lost in my own thoughts of how I could have changed events,
wondering if anything would have made a difference. What if I had
left Warren to die in the woods? Would that have been the right
thing to do, knowing it would have prevented all this turmoil? If
only I hadn’t become lovers with Patrick. Then I wouldn’t have been
wandering the streets of Savannah and ended up in the bed of Perry
Montgomery and carrying his child.

I was woeful, spent, and tired of living one
day to the next. When I came upon Eugenia’s rooms, her door was
open and I looked in. She was standing by the open windows - the
shutters were now pulled back - staring blankly out at the early
night sky. She just stood there, staring off, not blinking once.
She was in her nightgown, her hair down and messy. I’d never seen
her with her hair down. She appeared younger, and I couldn’t help
but gaze at her and think of Daddy. He truly loved Eugenia. He
would be shattered to learn what had happened to her.

Somehow she sensed I was there and turned my
way. Before she had the chance to admonish me, I scurried away. I
needed rest; I needed dreams to take me away. I planned to drink
some of Eugenia’s powders, just enough to doze off. It had been
days since I’d had any sleep.

I quietly stole down to the foyer - I needed
a glass of water and tip-toed past Phineas, who was sleeping
soundly on the settee in the parlor, and Sergeant Byron, who was
engrossed in a card game with Colonel Smith. The sound of gunfire
and cannons going off in the distance had become routine, and the
men didn’t even lift their heads in interest.

I was well past the front door and barely
into the dining room when a sudden barrage of bullets came through
the windows of the parlor, shattering glass everywhere and sending
Colonel Smith flying off his chair and onto the ground, where he
landed with his blood pooling around him. Phineas instantaneously
shook off his sleep, jumped up, and grabbed his musket, only to be
shot straight in the chest. Sergeant Byron had little chance. A
bullet blew off half his face. I screamed and prepared to run to
the kitchen and out the back door when all the doors to the mansion
were kicked open and a flood of Union troops charged in.

~ ~ ~

To my disbelieving eyes, Patrick Garrett
Arrington stood commanding his troop as they stormed in, bellowing
out orders. “Everyone disburse. I want every inch of this place
searched!”

Armed Union soldiers whizzed by me, and I
would have fallen down if Patrick hadn’t taken me aside into a
corner, away from the chaos. I almost didn’t recognize him as a
Union soldier. I was stunned, which mirrored his expression.

Patrick gazed down at my belly, and then
lifted his eyes up to mine. His eyes looked hurt and vulnerable -
but for only a fleeting moment.

“Warren, where is he?” he said gruffly,
refusing to greet me as the brother he was or the lover he had
been. He offered no explanation for why he was there as a Union
soldier.

“He’s upstairs,” I choked.

“How many are there?”

“How many what?” Tears were stinging behind
my lids now.

“Confederates,” he snapped. “How many are
there?”

“Only the three. I don’t understand!”

“The mansion is clear, General Arrington,” a
soldier boldly announced. “The prisoner is being held upstairs in
one of the bedrooms.”

“Good. Bring the civilians to the
ballroom.”

“Yes, sir.”

Things settled down once Sutton Hall was
thoroughly inspected. The bodies of the Confederates were quickly
removed, and I was sickened by the sight of blood splatter all over
the walls.

Patrick ushered me to the ballroom without a
word. I persisted in begging him to explain, but he remained aloof
and treated me as if I were a stranger.

“Patrick, please explain what’s
happening!”

“Do not call me Patrick. You may refer to me
as General, if you insist on addressing me,” he snapped.

I forcefully stopped and spun around,
throwing my arms about him and crying onto his chest. “Thank God
you’ve come back. I have missed you so!”

Patrick stood unyielding, stiff, and
unemotional.

“Sir, they are all in the ballroom,” another
soldier announced.

“Come, Amelia, move along now.”

I stared up into his eyes, looking for a
sign, any sign, of fondness or affection for me. I stared long and
hard, wanting to believe I saw a glimmer of love in his eyes, but
they quickly turned dark and disturbed. He boldly ushered me
forward. My heart sank; my exhilaration at seeing Patrick again was
instantly stifled. He wasn’t anyone I knew. The man was a complete
stranger with the face of a man I had once loved so dearly.

Eugenia hastily dressed and stood in the
middle of the ballroom, surrounded by soldiers who lingered about.
Hattie, Hamilton, Mammy, and our other workers were inside as well,
standing around looking bewildered. I went over and stood next to
Eugenia.

“Have you seen him?” I asked. “Have you seen
Patrick?”

“Patrick? What do you mean have I seen
Patrick?”

“He is here, with the Union army. There, over
there,” I explained, pointing over at him.

He gathered his men, and they all went
silent, waiting for him to speak.

“I don’t comprehend,” Eugenia gasped.

“Let me all have your undivided attention. I
am General Arrington. My troops and I have come to claim the
Arrington plantation as property of the United States, under the
orders of Commander Greyson. Sutton Hall remains on lockdown: No
one enters, or leaves without my permission. Colonel Warren Stone
of the Confederate Army is our prisoner of war and will remain here
until the military police arrive to escort him to Savannah.”
Patrick cleared his throat, took a sip of the water he was offered,
and continued. “The slaves of Sutton Hall are granted freedom, if
they wish to go.”

“My God, what is he saying?” Eugenia mumbled
under her breath. “How can this be? Why is the son of Thomas
Arrington a Union officer? He was a Confederate naval officer.”
Eugenia shook her head, perplexed, trying to make sense of it
all.

“The remaining civilians are to keep to their
personal quarters for the duration of the Union’s siege on Sutton
Hall. We expect the Confederates to come for their own, and when
they do, we will be ready for battle.”

Eugenia had very little fight left in her.
She did, however, manage to muster up some of her old self and
confront her stepson, right there in front of all, for everyone to
hear.

“Patrick Garrett Arrington!” she shouted
across the room.

“Yes, Mrs. Arrington!” he shouted back.

“How dare you, the son of a Confederate, the
son of Thomas Patrick Arrington, betray your country and dishonor
your own family? How dare you step foot into Sutton Hall wearing
the disgraceful uniform of the Union Army and renounce the home
that bears your ancestral name!”

“For all to hear, I am not as my father
before me, and I reject my relation to the Arrington family. My
love, loyalty, and duty I surrender to my president and the battle
to win our war!”

Cheers and applause echoed throughout the
ballroom - so loud it was deafening. The energy from the room was
powerful; the roar of their excitement began to overwhelm me.
Suddenly, I was having difficulty breathing, my fingertips went
numb, and my legs began to shake. It the room was spinning. Eugenia
noticed my distress and reached to hold me up, just as my legs gave
out and the room want black.

I woke in the middle of the night, confused
as to whether the day’s events were all another strange dream . . .
or was it true? Was Patrick Garrett really here? Did he save us
from the evil soldiers while denouncing the Arrington’s, and worst
of all, me. As the sleep wore off, I realized it was no dream. I
peered out the windows to see that the Union Army had us barricaded
in. Patrick was down below, talking around a fire pit with his men.
He stood out among them, and it was clear that he was their leader
in every way, from the stripes on his uniform to the way he stood
tall and proud, resilient and confident. I remembered his
impressive Confederate uniform. I still couldn’t believe he had
turned to the North.