Nan Ryan - Dearest Enemy

Suzanna understood her mother's suffering. She shared that pain, but dealt with her own loss in a very different way. While Emile languished in her room, often too distraught to even come downstairs, Suzanna paced the drawing room restlessly, scheming, plotting, considering how she could best help the Confederacy.

Impatient to begin an endeavor wherein she could be of genuine value to the Cause, Suzanna realized she had to bide her time until her mother grew a bit stronger. But she despaired of her mother ever growing stronger.

Suzanna was determined to help the war effort and, more importantly, to avenge the deaths of her beau and her brother. While she waited for her mother's health to improve, she considered and discarded idea after idea.

Then, one cold February morning in 1862, Dr. Milton Ledet, the family physician who had delivered both Matthew and her, unwittingly came up with the perfect strategy for Suzanna. One she hadn't seriously considered, but which was ingenious.

The caring physician had stopped by to check on Emile, as he did regularly. After spending a few minutes with his frail patient, listening to Emile's heart, checking her pulse and assuring her that by spring she'd be fit as a fiddle, he came back downstairs.

Suzanna was waiting in the foyer to question him about the progress of the war. At her insistence, he shared the latest news. News that was not favorable. He had, he told her, heard that the Federals had attacked the Confederate positions on Roanoke Island, off the coast of North Carolina.

“The Union Navy sent in such a large fleet they easily overwhelmed the Confederates. The ships unmercifully bombarded the Rebels dug in along the shore.” He shook his head sadly. “The Rebs couldn't hold their position against such a mighty force. Those that weren't killed had no choice but to surrender.”

Suzanna gritted her teeth and silently cursed the Union's powerful navy. In frustration she said, “When the war began, everyone—you included—said it would be over within weeks. It's coming up on a year and…” Her words trailed away. Then she asked point-blank, “Are they going to beat us, Doctor Ledet?”

“Us? My dear, I've warned you time and again about referring to the Confederacy as ‘us.' I'm constantly careful, and you must be as well. If you and Emile refuse to flee, then you must pretend alliance with the Union.”

“I know, I know,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Don't worry, I only confide in you.” She sighed wearily. “Everyone else on our side is gone.”

“Not quite everyone,” he said with a sly smile. “Last evening I was at the home of one of Washington's most noted hostesses, an old friend I've known for years.” He looked around as if someone might be listening, then lowered his voice to just above a whisper and confided, “Mattie Kirkendal frequently entertains Yankee officers in her palatial mansion.” He paused for effect. “I'll betray a confidence here, because you and your family go back a long way. Mattie Kirkendal strongly sympathizes with the Confederacy.” His light eyes twinkled.

Suzanna's eyes twinkled as well. “And hosting these parties for Yankee officers allows her to learn the enemy's pernicious secrets. Mattie Kirkendal is a spy for the Confederacy!”

“Shh. Now, Suzanna, don't you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.” He took hold of her elbow and guided her into the drawing room. Continuing to speak in low tones, he asked, “Have you ever heard of a lady named Rose O'Neal Greenhow?”

Suzanna shook her head.

“Mrs. Greenhow was also a prominent Washington hostess who sympathized with the South. It is said she was responsible for the Confederate victory at Manassas last summer. She managed to get an important ten-word message to General Beauregard that helped win the battle!”

Her blue eyes dancing with excitement, Suzanna said, “That's it!”

“That's what?” The doctor's brows knitted.

“Get me an invitation to one of Mattie Kirkendal's social gatherings. Can you do that?”

“I suppose I could, but…”

“How old is this Mattie Kirkendal?”

The doctor shrugged. “Mmm, mid to late fifties. Why?”

Suzanna's smile was cold, calculating. “If a middle-aged woman can pry secrets out of the enemy, think what I might be able to glean.”

The doctor was already shaking his head worriedly. “No! Absolutely not! I have made a dire mistake in discussing this with you. I shouldn't have told you about Mrs. Kirkendal or Rose Greenhow. Did I fail to mention that Mrs. Greenhow is now in prison? You don't understand, child. Spying against the Union is punishable by death!”

“Only if you're caught,” she stated coolly. “I won't be.”

Stern and fatherly now, Dr. Ledet said, “You just put such wild notions right out of your head and forget all about this. As I said, I should never have mentioned—”

“I will not forget about it! I know now exactly how I can be of use, and I am going to do it. You refuse to help? You won't get me an invitation to one of Mrs. Kirkendal's affairs?”

The doctor wore a pained expression. “Please, Suzanna, you mustn't even consider such a dangerous endeavor. Why, it would kill poor Emile if—”

“Doctor,” Suzanna interrupted. “What's killing my poor mother is the loss of her only son. And although she is unaware of it, we are losing most of the family fortune as well. If this war drags on much longer, we will be left with nothing.”

“Surely it won't come to that, my dear.”

As if he hadn't spoken, Suzanna said firmly, “I am going to spy for the Confederacy with or without your help. My mind is made up.”

“You don't know what you're saying. You have no idea what you'd be letting yourself in for.” His face flushed when he added, “You are much too young and innocent to realize what unpleasant…ah…chores might be required of you.”

“Tell me,” she said. “What exactly would I have to do?”

The physician exhaled heavily. “Suzanna, you're a very beautiful young woman and…these Union officers that Mattie entertains would undoubtedly be physically attracted to you.”

“Well, I should hope so,” she stated emphatically. “Else how would I ever get any pertinent information out of them?”

His brow was furrowed. “Must I spell it out for you, child? Do you actually suppose that all you'd need do was smile at these seasoned officers to make them confide in you?”

“I am willing to do whatever it takes to bring down the Yankees,” she said defiantly, chin raised.

Suzanna wasted no more valuable time.

That very afternoon, after Dr. Ledet had gone and her mother was napping, she had Durwood bring the carriage around to drive her across the river. When she reached the baronial, two-story mansion of the wealthy widow, Mattie Kirkendal, a distinguished-looking butler answered the bell. Suzanna handed him a note of introduction from one Dr. Milton Ledet.

“If you'll kindly wait in the drawing room,” the butler instructed, taking Suzanna's fur-lined cape.

He directed her into a spacious parlor where expensive oil paintings hung on silk-covered walls, and overstuffed chairs and sofas of shimmering brocade faced a blazing fire in the huge, marble-manteled fireplace. Suzanna moved toward the blaze, stretching her cold hands to its warmth.

“Miss LeGrande?” A throaty female voice soon came from behind her, and Suzanna turned to see a short, stout, handsomely dressed, gray-haired woman whose round face immediately broke into a wide smile. Hands extended in greeting, the woman eagerly bore down on Suzanna, saying, “My dear, welcome to my home. I'm Mattie Kirkendal.”

“Suzanna LeGrande, Mrs. Kirkendal,” she answered, taking the soft, plump hands.