“Gray,” I said just above a whisper, hardly realizing I had said his name.
Papa looked at me. “Gray?” he asked just as quietly.
I put my hand on Papa’s arm and squeezed it, not wanting to concern him. “I’m surprised to see Mr. Cooper, that’s all.”
It had been almost two months since we’d gone out to Arlington House, though I had seen him several times since then. He had been helpful with our supply efforts, but we hadn’t had the opportunity to be alone again.
“He’s a fascinating man,” Papa said, almost to himself. “Seems to be everywhere at all times—just like now.”
What was that supposed to mean? And why had Papa said it in such a strange way, as if he was accusing Gray of something?
Both Gray and Henry Jr. rose when we approached the black carriage. Senator Wilson offered his hand to me to step up into the vehicle.
“Good morning, Miss Wakefield,” Mrs. Wilson said. “How nice that you could join us. You look lovely, as usual.”
“Thank you for inviting us.” I greeted Henry Jr. and then turned to Gray.
“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Wakefield,” he said, taking off his hat. “Won’t you have a seat?”
He motioned to the spot next to him. It would be a tight squeeze to Centreville, but I didn’t mind.
I sat in the center of the bench, my skirts taking up a great deal of space. I was not wearing a hoop today, but the thick petticoats still turned my skirt into a bell shape. I tried tucking them in around my legs to make room for Gray on my left and my father on my right.
The conversation was strangely pleasant as we rode toward the west in a great exodus of Washingtonians going to see the battle. It made no sense to me, and as I looked around at the crowd, I wondered how it could make sense to them. Would I feel differently if I didn’t know the outcome of this battle?
“I made an inquiry about the patient at Arlington House,” Gray said for my ears only while Papa and Senator Wilson spoke passionately about the recent investigation into federal employees’ loyalty to the government. “I was pleased to hear that he made a full recovery with no complications. I thought you’d like to know.”
I turned more fully to look at him.
Gray smiled. “It seems you have a healing touch.”
It made me happy that Private Federgill had made a full recovery—and that Gray had been thoughtful enough to inquire for me.
The countryside was beautiful, with rolling hills, streams, and lush green trees. We passed several people as they walked the twenty-five miles to Centreville, while others rode on horseback, and many more were in carriages, buggies, and wagons. Parasols abounded, and laughter could be heard drifting on the wind.
Everyone truly believed this would be a frolic today. A fun way to watch the beginning and end of the American Civil War. Some thirty-six thousand soldiers would face each other on the battlefield around the river Bull Run, and we would watch from the hills at Centerville.
At least, that was what everyone thought. When we arrived at Centreville, it was a different story.
“Why,” Mrs. Wilson said, straining to see through her opera glasses, “we can’t see a thing. Just smoke from the battlefields.”
She was right. The valley beneath Centreville was covered by trees and hills, blocking our view of the actual battle. A beautiful backdrop of the Bull Run Mountains some fifteenmiles in the distance made the landscape stunning, but the five hundred people who stood along the hillside—shading their eyes and straining for a glimpse—saw nothing of consequence.
“We must get closer,” Senator Wilson said to his driver. “Take us to Blackburn’s Ford. It’s along the Centreville and Manassas Road. I believe Captain John Tidball will have his battery positioned there.”
The driver took us about a mile southeast of Centreville to a ridge where a battery of soldiers was positioned. We were not the first civilians to make our way to the battery, and others had followed us.
But to Senator and Mrs. Wilson’s great disappointment, we could see nothing here either. We ate our lunch, sharing the extra sandwiches with the soldiers, and spoke to Captain Tidball, who reassured everyone that the Union was in good position and winning the day.
“This is ridiculous,” Mrs. Wilson said several hours later, putting down her opera glasses again. “We’ve come all this way in the sunshine and heat, and I still see nothing.”
It was already close to four in the afternoon. We had all grown tired and weary of the flies, the heat, and the lack of entertainment. The conversation had ebbed and flowed and was now nonexistent. I sat in the carriage with Mrs. Wilson and Henry Jr. while the men talked to Captain Tidball a few yards away.
“Do you mind if I stretch my legs?” I asked Mrs. Wilson, wishing for a bit of reprieve from her whining.
“Of course not, dear. But stay away from the soldiers.”
I assured her I would and stepped out of the carriage. The sunshine beat down on my head, though I wore a wide straw bonnet secured with a ribbon beneath my chin. Mrs. Wilson and I were the only women who had ventured to the battery other than a few hucksters who were selling pies and pastries they had brought from Washington.
