Their marriage was a cruel quirk of fate and should never have taken place. She experienced a real loss at the prospect of seeking an annulment. In her heart, talking to Lucas wouldn’t matter. He’d wear the responsibility tag on his lapel, and they’d just end up arguing all over again. They weren’t compatible. Too different in ideals and philosophies. She’d be miserable existing under his tenets of belief and what he demanded, and he’d be miserable in hers. There was no getting around that. A hot tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away, forcing herself not to yearn for what she could never have.
Having to come face to face with Lucas again would provide more agony. Better to not see him at all instead of being reminded that he existed.
“And it will be a victory,” Mr. Walsh laughed, taking repeated pains to inform his companions. “We are fit, prepared and well organized to embark on the largest conspiracies to thwart the tide of the war. It’s proof of the Confederacy’s resolve to crush the Yankee bastards.” The men, no more than a lair of cackling and vengeful demons, cheered at the prospect.
“But when will it happen?” another asked, his voice as irascible as a rusty file scraping across metal.
“Soon. Very soon,” Mr. Walsh confided.
“But we need to know—”
Rachel squeezed Simon’s hand. Their patience and diligence had paid off.
“The hell you do. When the time comes you will be notified. One of our significant others is coming to town and keeps all his notes locked up in his library safe. He will give me direction on when to commence. I’ll meet him this week at a ball I’m attending.”
Rachel inhaled. For the Copperhead leader to remain anonymous he must be a well-known public figure. She pressed her ear closer to the gap in the flue.
“Perdition and hell fire will summon our Confederate brethren. A diversion is to be created. We’re planning to wreck bridges, ferryboats and rail properties inside and around Washington. All strikes will be conducted simultaneously. Our main goal is to surprise and attack quickly. Our objective—to kill President Lincoln and Secretary of War Stanton.”
An assassination attempt on Lincoln? On Stanton?Her jaw fell open at the boldness of what they were planning.
“And Colonel Lucas Rourke.” Walsh pronounced the name with sulphureous contempt. “We didn’t do it right the first time. We will make sure the second.”
Rachel’s muscles tightened.Lucas.
“Colonel Lucas Rourke? I thought our boys had him in Richmond,” another man contested.
“They did, but somehow he escaped with the help of the dratted Saint.”
“The Saint you say! If we ever catch that scoundrel, we’ll hang him from the highest tree then feed his guts to the hogs.”
Rachel fingered her neck.
“That’s another issue,” the leader snarled. “Unfortunate as it may seem, Colonel Rourke is back in Washington and too close for comfort. His untimely death shall be more important than ever.”
Lucas was in terrible danger. What had Lucas come to close to finding out? Maybe he had been kidnapped and taken to Richmond for more than just information. A faint sensation grew out of different degrees of uncertainty, her spine tingled and hummed a mystery, untying knots. A thought froze in her brain. No. He was getting too close to someone.
A moan in the far end of the storeroom startled her. She crept through the darkness with Simon beside her, reached her hands out, felt ropes bound around someone. “I’m trusting you to not make a sound,” she warned. His head nodded up and down. She untied his gag.
“How long have you been here?” How much had he heard? Simon and she had been working in the house for days aware of all the comings and goings.
“I was thrown in here two hours ago. You and the boy had gone for supplies,” he said in a thick Irish accent. To Rachel, he sounded young.
That was true. She took her knife out of her pocket and cut his ropes free. He grabbed her hand in a hearty shake. “Jimmy O’Hara’s the name. I work for Colonel Rourke and must warn him. We must leave here with that lucky bit of information and the fact that they will wish to dispose of me.”
He’d heard the Copperhead’s conversation, too. Rachel agreed. Leave now. No time to question him further. But how would all of them get down the stairs and out the front door without being noticed?
When the library door rasped open, she tensed. Mr. Walsh bellowed up the stairs. “Where is that damned maid?”
“You can’t go down there, Miss Rachel. Someone may recognize you and they’ll know of you helpin’ Colonel Rourke escape.”
Rachel moved to the door. “You and Jimmy escape while I distract them. Simon, you must get this information to the top of the chain, the one person I know who will listen as soon as possible. And warn Lucas!”
Simon grabbed her arm. “How is you gonna escape?”
“I’ll get to the kitchen and go out the back door. Now hurry.”
Rachel jerked her arm from Simon’s grasp and tiptoed out of the storeroom and to the top of the landing. “I’m here, sir. I must have dozed off while sitting with Mr. Edwards. He’s ailing awful bad with his fever and all. I wish you wouldn’t holler so. You’ll wake the poor man.”
