[cover story]

The Hook Café:
Where pretention and animosity go hand in hand [more]

Beautiful Betrayal
By Edith Edwards, Winner of encore magazine’s and Lower Cape Fear
Historical Society’s Historical Fiction Contest

A fictionalized account of how the events leading up to the Battle of Manassas could have unfolded. Rose Greenhow, heroine of this story, drowned off the coast of Fort Fisher in 1864. She is buried in Oakdale Cemetery in Wilmington, N.C.

“Maybelle, pack the green ball gown for our trip to Washington. And maybe the emerald earrings and necklace. Yes, definitely the emeralds. They bring out the green in my eyes.”

“Now, Miss Rose. Who you trying to impress? Dat Mr. John Calhoun done turned your head. He’s got you thinking all sorts of wild thoughts about dis war business.”

“Why, Maybelle. Whatever are you talking about? Mr. Calhoun and I are just friends.” Rose O’Neill Greenhow turned to face her maid with wide-eyed innocence.

“Oh, you think I don’t hear? When I’se dusting de furniture or pouring de coffee, I hear all right. You don’t think I’se got ears?”

“Maybelle, whatever you heard Mr. Calhoun say is just a lark. But don’t ever repeat it, you hear me? Now hurry and finish packing. We will leave Wilmington this afternoon. I need to attend a party in Washington on Thursday night. Some important people will be there, and I need to make a good impression.”

“Humpf!” Maybelle stomped off with her nose in the air. “Miss Rose gonna get herself in a mess of trouble if she don’t watch out. She beau’ful, but she got a mind of her own. Been dat way ever since she were a little girl.” Maybelle returned with the dress and tossed it on the bed. “Don’t you be trying to turn de heads of dem Yankee generals. You just remember who you are and where you come from.”

If I did that, Rose told herself, I’d lead the most boring life imaginable. Besides, something’s got to be done about these cursed Yankees. They think they can tell us Southerners what to do. Our boys in grey will teach them a lesson, and I’ll do what I can to help.

Washington, D.C. on that steamy July night in 1861, teemed with life. Washingtonians had yet to become embroiled in the war that had been started by some renegade Southern states and were continuing life as usual. When Rose arrived at the party on East Trade Street, the gaiety was palatable. Many heads turned to watch the rosy-cheeked, olive-skinned widow greet the hostess and make her way into the room. Nicknamed “Wild Rose” because of her complexion, she had attracted men since she was 16 years old.

Soon, powerful Congressmen and influential generals engulfed her. It took some time and maneuvering before she could be alone with the man she wanted to see. Henry Wilson of Massachusetts was chairman of the Senate Military Affairs Committee. The Southerners knew an attack was planned to prevent them from reaching Washington, D.C. They just weren’t sure when or where. Rose was sure that Wilson was infatuated with her and would be an easy target for information.

“I fear you will be leaving soon, Henry.” Rose trailed her fan down the lapel of Wilson’s jacket and regarded him with soulful eyes. “I’d hate it if you were gone. The parties would be no fun at all.”

“Why, Miss Rose. It does please me to hear you say that. I may leave as soon as tomorrow. Would that make you sad?”

“Devastated, Henry. I would be devastated. Why must you leave so soon?”
“The Confederates are bringing forces up here in great numbers. We need to crush them with one blow. But you shouldn’t worry your pretty head about that.”

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t understand a thing, Henry. I just know how sad I would be if you were to leave.”

In spite of himself, Wilson blushed. He stroked his beard and smiled at the woman who clung to his arm. He had plans to make, but he knew that if he turned her loose, other men would soon vie for Rose’s attentions. I must get this message to Patterson tonight, he thought. I’ll be brief. Besides, what interest could this beautiful woman have in Army talk?

“Come with me, my dear. I must speak to General Patterson. Then we can walk in the garden and admire the roses. This July heat is so oppressive.”

They found Patterson by the punch bowl. Wilson indicated that he wanted to speak to him on the patio. Already men were smiling at Rose as they passed. The senator placed a possessive hand over hers and headed for the patio.

“Patterson,” he said after they had skirted the main crowd. “I’ll be brief. I’m leaving tomorrow. Our troops will engage the Confederates at Bull Run Creek around the middle of the month. I must travel to assure that all preparations have been made. We will overwhelm them with a surprise attack and drive through their lines to Richmond. You must take your men and engage Joe Johnston’s troops in the Shenandoah. Keep them from joining Beauregard’s troops at Bull Run.”

“But, sir,” Patterson said, “my men are raw recruits.”

“That’s true for the Confederates, too. Leave tonight. The sooner we send those Rebels running, the better.”

When they were alone on the porch, Rose turned to Wilson with tears in her eyes. “So it’s true. You are leaving. And as soon as tomorrow.”

“Will you be here when I come back, beautiful Rose? I’ll only be gone one night. May I call on you when I return?” He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed each one. Rose’s smile was enigmatic, promising only secrets and possibilities.
Rose returned to her Washington home, her mind in turmoil. Somehow she had to get word to General Beauregard about the impending attack at Bull Run, or what the Confederates called Manassas.

As soon as she entered the foyer of her home, she told Maybelle to find Betty Duval, a beautiful young girl from Maryland. “What you got on your mind now, Missy?” Maybelle quizzed, her mouth drawn in disapproval. “Them Yankee gent’men done got you thinkin’ of something. I don’t likes it, no’m I don’t.

Besides, Betty Duval ain’t no kind of person you should be associatin’ with—you being a lady and all.”

“Just go, Maybelle. Bring Betty to me. And stop sticking your nose in my business.” Rose turned on her heel and left the room before Maybelle could argue.
Even though it was after midnight, Betty Duval soon arrived. Rose took her into the library and closed the heavy oak doors. “We have to act quickly, Betty, for our beloved Cause.” In spite of their privacy, Rose whispered.

“I’ll do anything, Mrs. Greenhow. You know I love the South and hate these arrogant Yankees.” Betty grasped Rose’s arm to emphasize her determination.
“You must ride out at first light with a message for General Beauregard. I learned tonight that the Yankees plan to attack our brave boys around the middle of this month. They think it will be a surprise and that they’ll break through our lines and march on Richmond. We must warn Beauregard. I would go myself but I must wait here for other messages. I know that you are a devoted Southerner and that I can trust you.”

“I would gladly give my life for my homeland, Mrs. Greenhow. You know that. What is your plan?”

“We must make you a disguise. You will ride out of Washington as a farm girl in a produce wagon. When you get to Virginia, change your attire, get a fast horse, and gallop off to the Fairfax County Courthouse. As soon as you find one of our picket outposts, give them the message that I will cipher and sew in silk. You can hide it in your hair. Tell them they must get it to General Beauregard at Manassas Junction.”

Rose summoned John, her stableman, and asked him to bring a horse and a plain wagon to the backdoor at first light. “Where’s I gonna get a wagon dis time of night, Miss Rose?” John shook his head at his mistress’s request.

“You have connections, John. I know you can do it.” Rose patted John on the shoulder and chuckled to herself as his chest swelled with pride at the compliment. She spent the remainder of the night ciphering the message and sewing it into a small package. As the sun rose over the trees behind her house, Rose, John and Betty loaded the wagon with produce they had found in the kitchen.

“What you think you doin’, Miss Rose?” Maybelle stood at the backdoor with her hands on her hips. “You done got all our veg’tables in dat dere wagon. How’s Cook supposed to fix you a decent meal? I told you not to mess with the likes of Betty Duval. She be trouble, just like I told you.”

“Hush up, Maybelle, and get back in the house.” Rose ignored her housekeeper and wished Betty godspeed. “Forget Maybelle,” she advised, clasping Betty’s hand to give her confidence. “She’s just a grouchy old woman. What you are doing is so important to our Cause.”

“I’m just glad to have a part, Mrs. Greenhow. Thank you for calling me.” With that Betty, dressed as a farm girl, clucked to the old horse and the wagon rattled down Rose’s driveway.

That’s all I can do, Rose told herself, lifting her head in defiance, except go in the house and pray for the safe delivery of the message.

Three days later, Rose knew the outcome of the mission. George Donellan, a Confederate soldier who had worked for the Department of the Interior, knocked on her door. He introduced himself by showing her a message with the words “Trust Bearer” written in the cipher of Colonel Thomas Jordan, chief of staff to General Beauregard.

“I assume that General Beauregard received my warning, then,” Rose said as soon as they were closeted in the library.

“Oh, yes ma’am.” Donellan grinned at the memory. “Miss Duval got the message to General Bonham at our outpost. He said that she unfurled the most beautiful roll of hair he had ever seen and pulled out a purse no bigger than two inches—which of course contained your cipher. He rushed the information to General Beauregard who then sent General Preston with it to President Davis in Richmond. Beauregard also requested reinforcements for the upcoming battle.”

“Praise God in His mercy!” Rose clapped her hands together with pleasure. “Now I have some more information for you. I assume you are returning to General Beauregard?”

“Yes, ma’am. Immediately. But we will have to think of a different way for me to carry this message. As you can see, I have no luxurious locks to hide a cipher and the roads are filled with Yankees who would stop me if they caught me.”

Rose liked the young soldier who stood before her. His youth and zeal for his Cause were contagious. “Then we must plan another ruse. I have learned that General Irvin McDowell will march with 55,000 troops on July 16. They will advance from Arlington Heights and Alexandria to Manassas. We will hide this message in the heel of your boot. You will take my horse and buggy and travel down the Maryland shore of the Potomac until you reach Indian Head. Then you can ferry across to Dumfries, on the Virginia side. By then, you should meet couriers who will take this message to Beauregard.”

Donellan shook his head in amazement. “You are a wonder, Mrs. Greenhow. However do you get your information?”

“Better that you never know, soldier.” Rose smiled at the eager young man. “Just be assured that it is accurate. Now have some refreshment in the kitchen while I prepare the cipher and call for the horse and buggy. You can be on your way within the hour.”

That afternoon Rose had another visitor. Maybelle ushered Henry Wilson into the parlor and looked sternly at her mistress. “Now you behave, Miss Rose,” she admonished. “Remember you is a lady.”

“What does she think?” Wilson asked. “That I’ll deflower you right here in your own parlor?” He crossed the Oriental carpet and reached for Rose. Turning her cheek she allowed a small peck then led him to the settee.

“Oh, Maybelle can be so bossy,” she laughed. Holding his hand to lessen the sting of an aborted kiss, Rose continued. “Maybelle’s appointed herself as my guardian. But let’s not talk about her, Henry. Your work keeps you so busy. I miss our chats when I don’t see you.”

Wilson blushed to the roots of his sandy blond hair. Flush with the excitement of approaching battle and anticipated victory, he spread his arms in triumph. “It will be glorious, Rose. We’ll send those Rebels yelping back to the flatlands and hills where they were spawned. Many townspeople are making plans to picnic on the grounds and watch our boys rout the Confederates. This war will soon be over.”
“But how can you be sure of victory, Henry? I’ve heard that the Southerners can be quite ferocious.”

Waving his hands in a dismissive gesture, Wilson continued to brag. “We are the better tacticians, Rose. We will isolate Beauregard so that reinforcements can’t join him. I am sending troops to cut off the Confederates in the Shenandoah Valley. The Rebel generals Johnston and Holmes are there. We will engage their men and prevent them from advancing. They have no idea that we are coming. But enough of this war talk. I understand that you will soon be returning to your home in Wilmington. Might I visit you there?”

Rose smiled a tight smile. How long will I have to tolerate this insufferable man? she wondered. I need to get this new information to Beauregard.

The next morning, July 19, George Donellan returned to Rose’s home. “Thank goodness you got through with my earlier message George,” Rose said as she shook the young man’s hand. “Now I have one that’s even more important for you to take to our brave leaders.”

“What are those rascally Yankees planning now?” Donellan asked, his face glowing with eagerness.

“General McDowell plans to cut the railroad at Manassas Gap to prevent our boys in the Shenandoah from joining Beauregard. You must warn General Johnston to be ready.”

“I will go immediately, Mrs. Greenhow. You will soon see the Yankees running for their lives through the streets of Washington.”

“Unfortunately, I won’t be here to see that grand sight. My daughter Leila leaves for San Francisco and I must travel back to my home in Wilmington to put her on a ship. I will celebrate there. Be assured that I will be following this battle with great interest.”

Rose left on her journey to Wilmington and saw her daughter safely aboard the ship. She was at her home on Market Street when she heard the news of the Confederate victory at Manassas. On Sunday, she attended services at St. Thomas Catholic Church and heard details of the battle. “They say that Washington is in a panic,” one friend told her. “The streets are filled with useless equipment and demoralized soldiers.”

Barely able to contain her glee when she returned home, Rose skipped up the front steps to be greeted by the indomitable Maybelle. “Dere’s been folks comin’ by dis house all morning, Miss Rose. What’s dat all about? Did you have anything to do wif dis battle dat’s just been fought?”

“Why, Maybelle, why ever would you say that? You know I’m just a widow woman trying to exist and take care of her children.”

“Well, dere’s been a lot of goings on at dis house. Lots of strange people been comin’ in and out. ‘Sides, you got a message in here—from President Jefferson Davis. It were delivered by General Jordan this mornin’.”

Rose put her hand to her throat. “A message from President Davis? Get it, Maybelle. Hurry. What did the President say?”

When Maybelle returned with an envelope, Rose again closeted herself in her library. Unfolding the single sheet she read:

“We rely on you for future information. The Confederacy owes you a debt.”
“What an honor,” Rose whispered to herself. “Of course I’ll continue working for my beloved homeland.” Tucking the note in her bodice she went to join friends who were beginning to arrive to celebrate the victory. For now, the Confederacy was safe.