Page 23 of Caught in Time
“That won’t be necessary, Detective Bridgeman.”
Charlotte looked past him and his three operatives to see Spencer striding up the path leading to the townhouse. The stern look on his face warned the detective he would have to go through him first.
“I will vouch for Miss Liddell. She is innocent of whatever charges you are bringing against her,” he said, a grim determined expression on his face. Bridgeman smiled, his full beard wiggling.
“The lady isnotyour wife, Major, therefore she is not under your protection.”
Charlotte watched Spencer’s face twist with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.
“I said there is no need to search Miss Liddell to her undergarments, Detective,” Spencer said with assurance, daring Bridgeman to challenge him further. Spencer took her arm and she felt a warm heat go through her. She could still feel the pleasure of their lovemaking upon her skin when he touched her.
Why am I experiencing such sensual feelingsnow?
The crafty operatives could clearly see that they were lovers.
“Spencer ... you must believe me. I didn’t—”
“Don’t say another word. I will contact Francis Bartow, the best lawyer in Savannah to advise me on how to prepare your defense. You have nothing to worry about, my love,” he said before turning back to the detective.
“She is unarmed and carries no secret messages upon her person. I give you my word as a gentleman.”
The detective’s face reddened in anger, and he cleared his throat.
“You may wait inside the house for us, Major,” he said and then turned his attention back to Charlotte.
“You will come with us, Miss Liddell.”
Charlotte started to ask if she could pack a bag, but she changed her mind. She had to hope that Spencer would bring her things later.
Oh, Lord, my life is a mess!
“Miss Liddell, if you please?” Bridgeman said with an urgency in his voice, his three associates falling into step alongside her, escorting her out of the townhouse. She didn’t stop, didn’t even turn her head to see if Spencer was watching from the doorway before she got into the enclosed carriage. She didn’t have to. She knew he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. And that was some comfort. But she knew she was going to the Old Capitol Prison in Washington City—a vermin-infested decaying jail, hastily refurbished to hold Confederate spies and others suspected of Confederate sympathies. She had read that the verminous cells stank of open sewage drains.
Can anyone save me now?
****
She had never feltso alone. Not even when she was six years old and no one had come to pick her up at St. Andrew’s girls’ boarding school for the Christmas holidays. Her parents had forgotten she was there, completely devastating her. She had been left standing there in the drenching rain for hours waiting until they finally showed up. She prayed that wouldn’t happen here.
She was interred in the Old Capitol Prison in Washington City. The winter storm had drenched the metropolis for the past few days, the incessant wind and heavy raindrops wreaking havoc with her mind, beating down hard on the windowpanes of her cell. She spoke to no one except the guard, who brought her a tray of food twice a day. She was so cold last night that she had begged him to bring her a blanket. The prison was grimy. There was no doubt that it was lice infested.
Grumbling, he had tossed a Union blue coverlet through the door, its woolen fibers as faded as hope for better treatment there. Nothing changed. She must bear the torture of loneliness which ate away at her soul, though she refused to let it wear her down. She spent her day pacing up and down her cell, looking out the second story window. Iron bars. Three-floor red brick prison. In an odd way she had a room with a view.
––––––––
The next morning, shesaw a lone sentinel standing outside on the unpaved road, gossiping with anyone who happened to walk by rather than guarding her or the other women imprisoned there.
Unfortunately, she was forbidden to speak to the other prisoners, but her actions didn’t go unnoticed. After dark, she observed the same sentinel checking on her to see if she was standing at the window, signaling to anyone with candles. She found it amusing.Who would I signal to? I know no one in Washington City.
The days dragged on. Steady. Never ending. She thought she would go mad until she managed to secure writing paper and a pen and ink from the guard. She was certain that Detective Bridgeman expected her to try to send out secret messages. She had no idea how to use what he called acipher wheel. She was afraid he was going to be disappointed. She merely wished to record what happened to her in hopes that her time there would be spent in a worthwhile pursuit. She was determined to write down on paper what she saw as unjust treatment at the prison. Prisoners were given only the scantest food to eat and a straw mattress to sleep on. No opportunity to exercise in the yard, further isolating them.
For days, she’d proclaimed her innocence, her interrogators refusing to believe she wasn’t a spy for the Confederacy. She was angry, so angry she nearly blurted out she was a traveler from—
From where? The twenty-first century with cell phones and the internet? Then why not tell them that the spying on both sides didn’t affect the course of the war? Even if she did tell them, it was highly unlikely that they would believe her.
It broke her heart to know so many brave and dedicated women and men risked their lives as operatives, but no system to relay the information existed. Their attempts to get their messages to the right sources on time failed most of the time.
She paced up and down the cell, putting her hands to her head, trying to think.Damn, I can’t stand this misery another minute!She had no one to talk to or confide in. They denied her all communication with anyone outside the prison. Wasn’t she entitled to a lawyer?What has happened to my civil rights?Was she kept in solitary because she was a woman and a Southerner? In their eyes, she didn’t have any rights. Even more degrading was the fact that they refused to give her any additional details about why she’d been arrested and what, if any, formal charges had been filed against her.
