History

Laura Ratcliffe was born May 28, 1836, in Fairfax City to Francis and Ann Ratcliffe. The blood of such legendary Southern families as the Lees, Fitzhughs and McCartys flowed in her veins. It was a Ratcliffe who founded the City of Fairfax. The land up and down what is now Centreville Road, a main artery connecting Herndon and Centreville, was once owned and farmed by Ratcliffes.

During the Civil War, northern Virginia was rife with Union and Confederate activity, especially along the Potomac. Skirmishes and full-fledged battles, midnight raids and daytime maneuvers were the stuff of daily living for soldier and civilian alike. Laura and her sister served as nurses at Jeb Stuart’s Camp Quivive in Fairfax in the winter of 1861. After meeting Laura, Stuart began a correspondence with her. His letters, along with a poem he dedicated to her, reflect his respect for her. He also gave her a gold-embossed brown leather album that was inscribed, “Presented to Miss Laura Ratcliffe by her soldier-friend as a token of his high appreciation of her patriotism, admiration of her virtues, and pledge of his lasting esteem.” The album was also signed by many other soldiers who fought with Stuart, including Mosby and Brigadier Gen. Fitzhugh Lee. (After Laura’s death on Aug. 8, 1923, at Merrybrook, relatives and friends found that Laura had kept these mementoes, as well as Stuart’s gold watch chain.)

During the war, the Ratcliffes were among those who chose to walk the tightrope of pragmatism. While loyal to the South, they were not averse to selling food and supplies to the Union troops who often controlled the area. According to historical documents, it was the braggadocio of one Union lieutenant who came to buy milk from the Ratcliffes that thrust Laura into the role of spy. He made the mistake of gloating to Laura that a trap for Mosby, the elusive Gray Ghost, was in place near her home. “I know you would give Mosby any information in your possession,” the lieutenant told Ratcliffe, “but, as you have no horses and the mud is too deep for women folks to walk, you can’t tell him; so the next you hear of your ‘pet’ he will be either dead or our prisoner.”