I was bitterly disappointed, but once I had decided I felt surprisingly better. Not that I wanted to leave—far from it. I would have given much to have Richard appear that moment with a credible reason for his deception, but I couldn’t imagine what that would be. What I now wanted was to salvage whatever I could of my personal regard for Richard and take my leave while I could still give him some benefit of the doubt.
But out on the street a new thought hit me. I would have to warn someone. Someone had to be told that England was already making plans against us. Someone in our government, high enough to matter, must be told.
Not the treasonous Secretary Floyd, that much was certain.
In the morning I walked to the offices of the steamship company and obtained a schedule. I could get a boat for Wilmington within the hour. But Richard had still not returned; I couldn’t leave without at least saying good-bye, and so I lounged around the hotel waiting until long after the steamer had departed for Wilmington. I was quite hungry: I had not eaten since yesterday, and now I had a substantial lunch at the hotel, then waited over a glass of ale in the bar across the street. Well, I was stuck for another day. This fact brought an odd mix of clashing emotions—anger, dismay, anxiety, along with relief and a wild hope that at times overrode all the others. I was anxious to have it all behind me and be away from here but the thought of what must come filled me with despair. Above all I still wished desperately for some word or act that would save us from the ugly split that seemed inevitable.
I had another ale and sometime later, on my third, I felt my limit and switched to sarsaparilla. My anger had again dissipated, and again I sat groping for some innocent reason behind Richard’s actions. There was none: he had lied, there was no doubt about that, there could be no excuse for it, I had to go, I should have gone at once and left him a note. But that would be a coward’s way and we both deserved better. So I waited.
I saw him arrive at three o’clock. I crossed the street and came into the hotel behind him, but again I wavered. How could I do this? What could I say? I stood in the lobby and watched him skip jauntily up the stairs, and only when he had gone did I go up at a far slower gait. I walked softly past his room and went into my own. I lay on the bed in a state of deep trouble, and after a while I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes at his knock on my door. I didn’t move.
He rapped again. He said nothing but I knew who it was. I heard him walk away, down the hall, down the stairs. I couldn’t keep him waiting much longer.
At last I went down and saw him sitting alone at the far end of the lobby. He was reading a newspaper: the Charleston Mercury, Rhett’s rabble-rousing sheet of traitorous innuendo and sedition. He looked over the edge of the paper as I approached.
“Charlie. I’ve been looking for you.”
Immediately I started my lie. “I haven’t been feeling well,” I said, but my voice faltered and I knew I could not continue with it. How could I chastise Richard for lying if I was doing the same? Before I could go on, he said, “Sit down here, talk to me,” and I sat in the lounge chair facing his. He looked in my eyes. “I want to tell you something.”
I almost brushed him off in a wave of impatience. Please, I thought, no more lies. I felt my hands tremble as I prepared to speak. But he spoke first, offering a surprising confession. “I didn’t tell you the truth in that note I left you.”
I nodded.
“You guessed as much?”
Nodded again.
He regarded me for a long moment. “I don’t lie easily to any man. It’s almost impossible when that man is a close friend.”
Please, Richard, I thought, how close can we be? We barely know each other. I wanted to say it but didn’t.
“The fact is, I had to be away from you for a day. So I waited until you left the hotel. Then I left and called on some people.”
“Am I allowed to ask why?”
“Because you would not have approved of what I did. And it had become necessary for me to play a role.”
I looked up, met his eyes, and suddenly I found my voice, surprising myself at the strength of it. “You must know how this seems to me. You must know I can’t sit still for it. I think under the circumstances—”
“At least hear me out. Then do what you must.”
He spent no time gathering himself. He knew what he had to say, and at his first words I felt my anger melting away. Suspicion remained: it would take years for that bitter pill to completely dissolve. But what I thought I now heard in his voice was truth.
“I have been up to Mr. Rhett’s plantation. I went at the request of Lord Palmerston, who had paved my way in a secret communication.”
He looked at me directly. “There were many ultrasecessionists on hand, and a number of state officials, with lots of heated balderdash thrown about. Charlie, these fools are having the time of their lives. Strutting like cocks in a barnyard. So much self-aggrandizement, so much egotism, no regard at all for the tragedy they are about to rain down on their country. They have no idea how quickly the world is turning against state-sponsored slavery, and how difficult it will soon be for them to function with that as their calling card. They can’t imagine how many of their boys will die for their foolish pride.”
He took a deep breath. “Your presence would have been impossible.”
Softly, I said, “What did they all think, having Richard Burton among them?”
“I didn’t go as Richard Burton. To them I was a friend of a friend of the prime minister whose name they will quickly forget.”
“Richard…”
“My only lie was the manner of my escape yesterday, and I intended to set that straight between us, whether you had guessed it or not.”
“There’s more to it than that. I asked you specifically whether you are on a spying mission.”
“And I told you I’m not.”
“I asked you specifically if you are under any instructions from Palmerston.”
“Lord Palmerston asked me to make this call only as a courtesy and I’ve done that. When I return to England he will want my impression of the overall situation here and I shall give it to him. That’s hardly what anyone would call grand intrigue.”
He gestured impatiently. “I can’t tell you what England will do when your war comes. I’m not the prime minister. All I can do is tell him what I think.”
“Which is?”
“That we would be ill-advised to get involved in this conflict in any way. That the American spirit will not be defeated. That even if the South should somehow prevail—it won’t—but even then there would be resistance groups at work to restore the Union, and that intervention or tampering by any foreign power, especially one based thousands of miles away, would be insane. That such a foreign power can expect fierce guerrilla warfare, perhaps for years, with many casualties. The day is coming when no power, not even England, will be able to sustain such a war. If Palmerston brings us into it, it will be a quagmire and history will remember his name for that above all else. That’s what I’ll tell him.”