Lord Lyons declined to inform the Confederate statesman that Union troops under McPherson had begun to land at Norfolk. He would find that out soon enough. “You have betrayed us,” Benjamin said.
“We have protected our interests and we sincerely trust that you will do likewise with yours. Proclaim our perfidy to the skies if you like. It won't matter. The truth about Canty won't come out for generations, if at all. By that time, this will all be behind us. We accepted the fact that we have been defeated and have decided to cut our losses. I urge you to do the same. I have it on good authority that Mr. Lincoln is inclined to be both merciful and just. Negotiate to rejoin the Union.”
“Impossible.”
“Distasteful, yes, but not impossible. The late Palmerston was infatuated with the Roman Empire. It may be that the North is the new Rome, and you are Carthage. Please recall what happened to Carthage. After a series of savage wars, Carthage was utterly destroyed and, if I recall my history, the ground sowed with salt. Do you wish that for the South? Grant is moving slowly in a final attempt to give you time to come to your senses, but his advance is inexorable. If you persist in the agonies of a prolonged siege and continued war. you risk not just defeat but total destruction. Is that what you wish for your people?”
“No.” Benjamin said softly.
“You will have to forfeit slavery, but you will be compensated. Slavery is doomed, but you can save your homes, your livelihood, and your blood. Slavery is dependent on cotton, and now many lands are producing cotton. Soon. King Cotton will exist only as a memory, and what is now the Confederacy will have to compete in a global marketplace with nations where cotton is produced efficiently by free labor and not by inefficient slaves.
“Mr. Benjamin, will you doom your young men to die in a cause that is already lost? Damn it sir, make peace while you can and save what remains.”
Benjamin stood and Lyons rose also. There was deep sadness etched on the face of the Confederate diplomat. “I will convey your statements and your thoughts to Mr. Davis.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Major John Knollys was admitted to the drawing room, where Rosemarie DeLisle awaited him. She wore a long, silk robe and looked breathtakingly lovely as she sat like a cat on a lounge. He sat on the chair facing her.
“I will be leaving tomorrow.”
“Must you?” she said. To his surprise, she seemed just a little amused. “I don't wish you to.”
“Nor do I, but I must return to England and a new posting.”
“Take me with you.”
Her request stunned him. “It would be a miserable existence. I have made major, but I will never achieve greater rank. I will die a major and be made to suffer through inferior postings to miserable places. I am one of many associated with a terrible setback for British arms and that will be forever held against me.”
“Does that hold true for Napier and Wolsey?”
“Napier will retire, and Wolsey has both influence and wears the mantle of a hero. His taking of Fort Stephens is being heralded as a titanic effort that was made all the more dramatic because of his wounding. Thank God he was not blinded as we all first feared. No. he is the noble hero of a doomed enterprise.”
“But you were in the attack as well. Have their lordships forgotten that?”
“No. That and Wolsey's recommendations are all that keep them from reverting me to my previous rank of captain.”
“Then resign your commission and come with me. Wouldn't their lordships accept it?”
He laughed harshly. “In an instant. But go with you? Where? Are you leaving the South?”
Rosemarie gifted him with a wide and knowing smile. “I am.”
“But your properties?”
“I have no properties here, except for this house: which I rent, and some furniture that is disposable. All else is portable. I am, was: a supporter of the Confederacy. but I was never a fool. You knew that I sold the estates shortly after inheriting them.”
“Indeed, but I thought it was only the larger ones and because of the difficulties a woman would have managing them.”
“That was part of it, John. But another fact was the coming war. While my heart wanted the South to win, my mind said it might not happen. I vowed that I would never be poor again. Thus, I sold all and invested in other assets using banks in New York and Switzerland as conduits. I am now ready to take over some of those assets; however, as before, it would be difficult for a woman. I need a man to be my strong right arm. A knight. A paladin.”
John Knollys was utterly intrigued. “Tell me more. What and where are these assets?”
“Land.” she said. “This time in California, just south of San Francisco. It is an area that is growing and will prosper. There will, however, be those out there who will try to halt me, perhaps even harm me. I need a man to help me, and he will need a dozen or so strong, disciplined men to help him. Would you be that man, that paladin?”
Knollys laughed. “I am your knight in cotton armor. And I indeed know a number of soon-to-be-former British soldiers who would be delighted to join me, and whom I've already trusted with my life.”
Rosemarie smiled in relief. She had been terrified that he would decline her and return to England.
Knollys stood. “I will return to General Napier and tender my resignation immediately.”
Rosemarie stood and approached him, undoing her robe. “Not immediately, John. Make love to me first.”
Rebecca Hunter looked down at the plain gold band on her left hand. She did that a lot lately. It was as if she couldn't quite believe she was married to Nathan. It was good that they were married, as she thought their latest joyous rompings might have made her pregnant. She hadn't yet shared that possibility with Nathan. She would wait until she was certain.
On his return from the battlefield and coupled with the fact that the Confederate threat was over, they had wed as quickly as possible. A minister who understood the meaning of wartime haste had presided. Former sergeant Fromm had been the best man while Winfield Scott had given away the bride. The maid of honor had been Bridget Conlin.
President Lincoln declined to attend the reception, but he sent a card and a vase. Grant sent a box of cigars and Rebecca wondered out loud if she was supposed to smoke them, too, It turned out that Grant's gift of cigars was a joke, He and Julia had also sent a painting of a Midwestern landscape by Winslow Homer and hoped it would grace their new home.
A number of important people had also sent their best wishes, Winfield Scott’s star was again on the ascendancy, and Nathan Hunter was Winfield Scott's protege.
It didn't hurt that Nathan was considered a hero, His stand against the Confederates had made him famous, Skeptics, Nathan among them, wondered if his part in the fight had been all that decisive. Meade was moving up behind him and Thomas's men were arriving on his right, either of which would have doomed the Confederate thrust. He did concede that he had prevented bloody and destructive fighting in the streets of Washington itself,
Rebecca hooked her arm in Nathan's and they looked out the window towards the Potomac. “Must you go again? Seems you are always leaving me.”
“At least this time the guns aren't firing.”
A truce had been in effect for more than a week and appeared to be holding. The Confederacy had asked for peace commissioners to discuss an honorable end to the hostilities, and Lincoln had determined to send Scott on what would likely be the last great effort of his life, Nathan would assist Scott.
The response from Richmond showed that the choice of Scott had been inspired. He had commanded Lee and many others in the Mexican War and, as a result, still had the respect of a number of the South's leaders, That he'd held for the Union was not counted against him, He had done what honor had demanded of him,
“Will you succeed?” she asked,
