1. Invasion

1863 JUNE 29, MONDAY

1

He left. Just like all the other young men in town.

After two years of promising he would remain in York, Pennsylvania, Robert Moore enlisted, making me promise to watch over his little sister. It was not right of him to ask that of me. To put that on me. I begged him to wait, to stay unless he was drafted. Still, he chose to leave.

I was hurt, and no matter how often I wrote to him, his brief notes were too few and far between. I should have been thankful I received anything at all. In our last moments together, angry at his desertion—dashing all dreams I had for us—I told Robert of Ethan's proposal. Since childhood, I never saw him so furious … spitting, shouting at me to be gone, and claiming the righteous Cause. His pension would help his sister, and he would be fighting for the preservation of the Union and the freedom of those enslaved. How dare I keep him from his duty? How dare I ask him to stay when I could give him nothing in return?

"What would I stay here for?" He pushed his hat back from his face to wipe the sweat from his furrowed brow. "Accept Mr. Harris's proposal. Make your folks happy. You will be better for it."

With pressure from Pa and Mother, and a hurt heart, I had surrendered and accepted Ethan's proposal.

Now, as I stood on Main Street, crowds pushed forward, stretching our necks to see the commotion over bowler hats and bonnets. Tension vibrated through the townsfolk. Anna McQuaid locked her arm around mine, keeping us from being separated. Then his eyes connected with mine.

Ethan Harris stood on the street corner, staring at me. He stood a head taller than everyone, his fashionable bowler hat shading his dark eyes. He smirked and tipped his hat, satisfaction painting his features. Was he enjoying this? A shiver ran down my spine, and I turned away from him.

A hum of nervousness rippled throughout York. The streets were muddled with carts, horses, and people. Harold, our livery driver, had to drop off Anna and me two blocks from the post office. Anna gripped my arm as we made our way down the street, pushing through people as we approached York–Wrightsville Railway and the post office. A crowd in front of the post office flowed out into the street. Everyone was demanding their mail and pleading for letters to be sent to family members or soldiers at the front … before it was too late.

"What's happened?" I asked Anna.

"I don't know, Miss Ella." She turned to the gentleman beside us. "What is it?" she asked him.

"Rebels," he said with a stiff, tense face. "They're coming up this way. Everyone is trying to send out letters before they close the railway."

"They're closing the railway?" A wave of trepidation washed over me.

"Miss, this is war. The enemy will destroy everything in its path, and we must be prepared. Get all your mail, send out the necessary letters, and skedaddle. Pennsylvania is about to become the front. My family and I are heading to New York as soon as we're able."

"Should we get our mail too, Anna? This may be my last chance to send word to Robert."

"We'll try." Anna nodded.

We waited for an hour before we reached the counter where Mr. Cravett, the mail clerk, stood, sweating and exasperated.

"Came for the Coburg mail, did you?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, if you please, but only if it's ready. We only came for the package my grandmother sent."

Grandmother Montgomery, my maternal grandmother, lived year-round at her Parisian home now that she was widowed. She complained the war kept her abroad, though we knew she hated Pennsylvania. In her stead, she sent a dress for the honeymoon—something all the girls in Paris were wearing.

Mr. Cravett relaxed his shoulders. "Miss Coburg, you have been the most reasonable voice I've heard all morning. Just a moment while I fetch your package."

He disappeared to the back room and returned with an elaborately decorated box, painted with flowers and tied with gold cord and tassels.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Cravett." I smiled as Anna took the package from the counter. The package was almost half her size.

"My pleasure. A breath of fresh air, I daresay."

Anna and I pushed our way back through the growing crowd.

Anna shook her head, brown- and gray-peppered curls escaping her bonnet. "All these folks gone mad, like it's the end of the world. Now, let's get this dress home before it topples me." I could tell she was nervous as her Irish accent thickened.

Anna McQuaid had been with our family since I was born, and she cared for me as if I were her own. Now she ran our home. I told her my secrets, and she told me hers. I trusted her more than anyone on earth, and she had proven it to me by keeping my secret about Robert.

"Rebels!" someone yelled in the street. Screaming and hollering punctured the hot air in response. A rush of energy exploded through the crowd as everyone pushed to get off the streets.

"Can you see anything?" I yelled over the melee.

"No!" Anna replied.

Looking for Harold and the buggy, we elbowed our way through the people lining the streets as if they were anticipating a parade. In the distance, a band struck up and began to play "Yankee Doodle."

"What's happening?" I stood on my tiptoes, attempting to see over the hundreds of heads, my hoop skirt squishing against the throng.

Anna pinched her lips, considering, then said firmly, "Come."

We found a break in the crowd and turned down the street, only to halt in our steps.

Men in gray marched forward, a Confederate band taking up the middle. An old general sat tall on his mount, leading his troops. He bared his head, waving his hat and flashing a hearty grin on his tanned face. He bowed in his saddle, saluting to the people of York. Everyone stared, astounded.

Will they not loot? Fire? Commit arson?

Instead, the Rebels were treating us to a parade!

"Hurry now! We need to find Harold." Anna led me away. "It looks as though they're heading toward the town square."

We hurried back down the street. We were nearing the square when the general yelled for a halt, and the crowd pushed, gathering around the general and his men. The Confederate general raised a hand to call for silence. A hush fell over the town. I scanned the crowd, looking for someone to raise a firearm against these invaders, to do something to stop them. I searched for Ethan.

The old general bellowed from his perch, "What we all need on both sides is to mingle with each other so that we shall learn to know and appreciate one another. Now here's my brigade. I wish you knew them as I do. They are a hospitable, wholehearted, fascinating lot of gentlemen. Why, just think of it—this part of Pennsylvania is ours today; we can do what we please with it. Yet, we sincerely and heartily invite you to stay! Are we not a fine set of fellows?"

Invite us to stay? I couldn't help but raise my brows in amusement.

To my great surprise, applause broke out. Whether it was out of shock, fear, or not knowing what else to do, we all applauded.

"Are we going to leave, Pa?" Elizabeth, my younger sister, asked. She paced on her feet. She was the household's darling. Amenable and prudent, she was everything I was not. All the way to blonde ringlets and plump cheeks, while I had decidedly unruly, light-brown hair and a thin figure. I was often chided for my stubbornness or recklessness.

"No, honey," Pa said, lifting Elizabeth onto his knee. "We have no plans to leave. Life will go on as planned, and your dear sister will have her wedding."

The wedding was mere days away, and my stomach roiled with anxiety. I was trapped inside the parlor, the enemy outside our door, and soon there would be a ring around my finger symbolizing I was no longer my own.

Elizabeth clapped and hollered with glee, jumping from Pa's knee and running off with eight-year-old Cousin Amelia by her side. Pa chuckled, and I knew everything was to continue as before. We were not in immediate danger, and it was as if the whole household breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet, I sat there … itching to escape.