Southern Belle
Charlotte Dubois elegantly strode into the ball room, making heads turn in her direction to admire her. Charlotte was the belle of the ball. The one that all the girls were jealous over and all the gentleman fawned over. It was exactly how she liked it.
“Miss Dubois!” I young man said as he came up to her side.
“Why, Mr. Henderson. How are you?”
“I’m quite alright. Can I trust you had a pleasant journey?”
“Quite uneventful.” Which wasn’t at all true, but she wasn’t going to tell anything to the host’s son. “What a lovely ball your mama has put on. I’m sure she put more time into it than she ought, didn’t she?”
Mr. Henderson laughed. “Why, yes she did. How’d you guess?” She threw him a saucy grin.
“Well, I must be making my rounds. I have plenty of friends I need to catch up with.”
“Of course. Might I ask if your first set has been claimed?”
“It certainly has not.”
“Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand for the first set then?”
She pushed his shoulder flirtatiously. “You silly rascal, of course I will.”
“Then I will see you in a few moments.” He bowed at the waist while she curtsied prettily, then they parted ways.
Mr. Jacob Henderson really was a handsome devil and Charlotte had always been rather fond of him. Never in a romantic way, but in a friendly, almost brotherly sort of way.
“Charlotte!” Clara Parker came rushing to her side. The two girls were as thick as thieves. There was only one thing Clara didn’t know about Charlotte, but no one really knew.
“Clara! I have so much to tell you.” They clasped hands and moved to the side of the large room so that they could talk in a more private setting. “Ever since you went with your mama and daddy up north for the holiday I have been a wreck. It’s been so hard not having a friend close by that understands me.”
“I know how you feel. It was everything in my power not to beg my daddy to let me borrow the carriage and come and steal you away into the night so that we might talk. We can never be so separated again!” They embraced in the way that only best friends can.
“I must tell you of my brother.”
A sigh escaped Clara before she could cover it up. “How is Mr. Dubois doing? I hear he is quite the hero.”
“You know you can call him Johnny.” Charlotte smiled at her friend.
“I know, I just… I don’t want everyone thinking…”
“Thinking that you like him?” Charlotte teased her friend.
“Yes, that. I don’t want word getting back to him on the front. It might only make him lose focus. I don’t want that to happen. He needs to come back a war hero, not a victim.”
Johnny Dubois was a Second Lieutenant for Major Edward F. Bagley of the 15th Infantry for the Confederate States of America. That was something Charlotte’s whole family was infinitely proud of.
“No one is going to tell him until he decides to confess to someone how much he likes you.”
Clara looked down at her slippers, a faint blush coming to her cheeks. “He doesn’t even know I exist. And if he does, I’m just ‘Charlotte’s friend’. He’s never once called me by my name.”
“That’s just it. He talked about you in his letter home this week.” Her face popped up and her eyes widened. “He said how something reminded him of ‘that Clara girl and her sparkling personality’.”
Clara smiled and a squeal passed through her lips. “He knows I exist!” She twirled in her spot.
“Miss Dubois, Miss Parker.” Mr. Henderson came up to gather Charlotte for their dance. It was after the first set that she would have to do her job.
Just before she got into the carriage to go to the ball a letter arrived for her. It had been from the President, Mr. Jefferson Davis himself. She had been working with him for as long as this war had been going on. In the letter the President had told her of a gentleman that would be attending the same ball. This gentleman was a spy for the Union and had been trading military secrets with to them. She had been assigned to take him out.
“Are you ready Miss Dubois?”
She smiled prettily at him. “Yes, indeed I am.” She placed her hand in his and he walked her to the floor. Clara was soon taken by her partner and then the dancing began. It was a quick country dance, as most first dances were, so Charlotte didn’t talk much with Mr. Henderson. That was alright with her. She needed to figure out what she was to do about Mr. Edgar Calhoun.
The dance ended, but her opportunity was ripe as Mr. Henderson wanted her to meet his old school friend. Mr. Calhoun bowed deeply over her hand as they were introduced. He wasn’t an overly pleasant gentleman. He was rough and cold. No wonder he could hold up his façade of being loyal to the Confederacy.
“I wish to take a turn through the gardens.” He said after only moments of meeting Charlotte. He took off without a backwards glance.
Charlotte tugged on the end of her gloves, making sure they were pulled up to their proper length. “He is quite a pleasant fellow. Wonder what bit him in the rear.” Her mother would have been disgusted with that phrase, but there was nothing better she could think of to say.
“He is not the most happy of persons.”
“I believe you are doing it a bit brown, Mr. Henderson. He seems altogether grouchy.”
“He didn’t used to be.” After a few more minutes of talking both the Gentleman and the lady excused themselves.
Charlotte walked to the balcony doors. She made an effort to make her exit look as unimportant as possible. She didn’t want anyone accidentally following her. She walked down the stairs and started to take a turn about the garden.
“Mr. Calhoun! Why, how nice it is too see you again.” He feigned polite interest and went to continue his walk. “Do you mind if I join you. I so love to see the gardens.”
“If you must.” It looked as if he was barely restraining from rolling his eyes, but he held out his arm for her to take.
She gladly accepted as it brought her closer to his knife. “Look at this lovely Hyacinth. I always have told my mama that a good batch of Hyacinths makes a garden complete, don’t you agree?” He gave a grunt in reply, which Charlotte took to mean “No.”
She didn’t want to waste much more time with him. The longer she was gone the guiltier she would look. She steeled herself for what she was about to do. Then in a practiced, quick movement she pulled the knife from the man’s jacket and stabbed it downwards into his sternum. It was such a stab so that she wouldn’t get any blood on her dress or gloves. The man was dead before he even had an opportunity to register what had just become of him.
She let him fall to the ground. She looked around to make sure no one had seen what she had done. She took a few steps back and let a shrill scream pierce the air.