“It certainly wasn’t because you loved her. I know for a fact you didn’t.”
Rebekah could not move. She could not breathe. The words shredded her heart. As she stood in the doorway, holding the requested cup of coffee, the dark liquid sloshed all over the saucer. Somehow she had the presence of mind to set the cup on the nearby table before it spilled onto the floor.
Henry drained pale the moment he saw her. “Rebekah? Oh, my dear...”
My dear? She was not dear to him. She never had been. He’d married her to feed his ambition. He was just like her father.
“Power.” She’d heard the ugly word drop from her father-in-law’s lips the moment she stepped into the room. “Power. That’s why you united yourself with her family in the first place...”
As Henry started toward her, a great strength, one she hadn’t realized she possessed, surged within her. Turning on her heel, she strode from the study.
“Rebekah, wait.”
She heard him call but did not obey. Let him get angry. Let him come after me with his fists raised. I am through with crying, cowering, through with trying to please! With every step, her defiance grew. It burst forth as Henry caught her arm.
“Don’t touch me!” she shouted.
Her husband’s eyes widened in shock, but for the first time in her existence, a man obeyed her command. He immediately let go of her.
“Rebekah, please—what you heard just now...let me explain—”
Her words fired off, full of force, full of disgust. “There is nothing to explain! I understand perfectly. You weren’t courting me with any sincerity. You never had any desire to court me! You were courting my father’s favor! Exactly what kind of power did you hope to gain by marrying me? Do you wish to be governor after my father?”
“No!’ he said emphatically.
“Then you seek his fortune? My paltry dowry is all you’ll ever see. My brothers will inherit it all.”
“I don’t want your family’s money or your father’s friendship,” Henry insisted.
It occurred to her then that in addition to Harold, who had remained in Henry’s study, James, Hannah and Sadie were probably hearing every word of this conversation, not because they were eavesdropping behind the bannister but because Rebekah’s voice was surely carrying throughout the house.
Let them hear, she thought. Let them learn the truth of the precious Mr. Henry! But then she thought of Kathleen and Grace. The poor children had suffered so much already. Rebekah couldn’t bear the thought of them learning the true character of their uncle. She lowered her voice, but her anger did not diminish. “Your father said you married me to gain power.”
“He’s the one who wanted power, Rebekah, not me.”
“And he convinced you to marry me?”
“Yes—”
Pain, like a steel bayonet, pierced her heart.
“—No!” Henry then said. “It’s not like that... I admit I wasn’t thinking marriage—I was trying to tell you earlier that—”
I wasn’t thinking marriage? So he had never had any desire to win her heart. He had lied! “If you didn’t want money and you didn’t want power, than just what did you want? Why did you wed me?”
Shame flooded his features. “Protection,” he said.
“Protection?” Her father was a powerful man, in good standing with both the government and the army. But why did Henry need his protection?
“This wasn’t how I intended to tell you...”
Her heart squeezed. So he’d intended to tell her this? How cruel could he be?
“Rebekah, I give you my word—”
Your word? What good was his word now?
“—I was acting only in the role of a concerned city councilman when I visited Maggie Branson’s house the day before President Lincoln was assassinated...”
Maggie? The day before the assassination? That caught her attention. Though she was sickened by the sight of him, she wanted to hear the rest of what he had to say. He told her then of a brief encounter with John Wilkes Booth. Rebekah thought her knees would buckle.
“I had no idea of Miss Branson’s relationship with Lewis Paine,” Henry insisted, “and my encounter with the assassin was pure happenstance.”
“Happenstance?” she exclaimed. “You drove Booth to the train station!”
“He told me he was going to Washington, but I had no idea what he was planning.”
His hands were again upon her arms. There was an imploring look in his eyes, one that reached deep inside her, tugged at her very soul. She did not wish to think the man before her, the man who so lovingly cared for his sister’s children, capable of conspiring to murder the president, but if he lied so convincingly concerning his hopes to win my affection, what else is he lying about?
“Rebekah, please believe me.”
His request served only to harden her. She’d never believe another word he said to her, ever again. “You are just like my father. You say and do whatever is necessary to get what you want!” Twisting free, she ran up the staircase, then locked the bedroom door behind her.
* * *
She knew. She knew everything and she believed him guilty of every imaginable wrong. Deception, cruelty—even treason. He could see it in her eyes when she fled from him.
Henry wanted to prove his innocence to her, at least where the matter of Lincoln was concerned, but had no idea how even to begin. Pursuing her at this point would only further harden her heart. He had been shocked by the spine she’d shown him, the tenacity. After years of being told to keep silent, told what to think and when to speak, she had stood up for herself. He was proud of her for that, but he grieved over the fact that she’d done so because of her sense of betrayal by him.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Henry turned to see his father standing calmly in the hall. He would have called the man to account for what he had said concerning Rebekah were he not so angry with himself.
“Give it time, son,” Harold counseled. “She’ll resign herself to the situation soon enough. Then the house will quiet.”
Resign herself to the situation? So she can walk through life, sober-faced and silent like her mother? Like mine? “That is the last thing I want!”
His father blinked. “You can’t be considering divorce? If Van der Geld suffers such a disgrace—”
“If Van der Geld suffers? Father, listen to yourself! She’s my wife! She gave me her heart unreservedly, and I’ve wounded it deeply! And all you care about is how her father will react? He’s the least of my concerns. But no, I’m not contemplating divorce. I want to mend the marriage.”
“And just how do you intend to do that?”
Henry didn’t know. He didn’t even know if it was possible, but of one thing he was now absolutely certain. If he had any hope of regaining the trust and respect of his wife, his father could no longer be part of the equation. This is my home now. This is my life. I alone am responsible for the outcome.
“What I intend to do concerning my wife is my business,” he said firmly.
“I see,” the older man said patronizingly. “If Detective Smith—”
Henry stopped him with an upturned hand. Yes, the detective was part of this, as well. Henry knew he must settle that matter as soon as possible, but that was not the issue of the moment. “Father, with all due respect, I do not seek your counsel.”
“You’ll seek it soon enough if your angry wife starts talking,” the man scoffed, “if she tells of your encounter with John Wilkes Booth.”
With that, Henry realized exactly where he must start. Rebekah thought him a conspirator. If he went directly to Smith now, it would prove to her that he wasn’t. But I can’t have my father undermining everything I do. “Father, I’m afraid I must ask you to return to Annapolis.”
Harold’s eyes narrowed. “You are asking me to leave?”
“I am,” Henry said, regretting it had come to this.
The man became indignant. Color rose to his face. “Have you no respect for your family?”
“I am thinking of my family,” Henry replied, “and it is precisely because of them that I am asking you to go.”
There was a weighty silence. Henry stared at his father. Harold stared at him. When Henry refused to back down, Harold turned on his heel. “I’ll be on the six o’clock train,” he called back over his shoulder. “Don’t come crying to me when you have ruined your life.”
Henry had no intention of doing so. Anyway, if his life was indeed about to be ruined, then it was God’s judgment, his punishment for what he’d done to Rebekah.
* * *
Rebekah told herself she shouldn’t be crying. She had married a liar, a traitor, an accomplice to murder. She should be planning a way to escape this terrible household, yet tears streamed down her cheeks. Great sobs shook her entire frame. She had ignored her own counsel to guard her heart. She had wanted to fall in love with Henry, and had naively thought he wanted to love her in return.
Reason told her it was better to know the truth now than later. What if a child had been conceived? She had at least mercifully been spared that.
Abandoning the bedpost to which she had been clinging, Rebekah paced the floor. What am I going to do now? Where can I go? She knew full well she couldn’t return to her father’s house. The disgrace of a failed marriage would be nothing compared to the consequences of disgracing him.
But if I told my father of the role Henry played in President Lincoln’s death, if I brought another traitor to justice, then wouldn’t he think differently of me? Surely he would not only welcome me back into his household but also praise me for being a patriot.
Yet as much as she longed for her father’s approval and acceptance, she couldn’t help but think of the two innocent children sleeping across the hall. If Henry was arrested, would Grace and Kathleen not fall into his father’s hands?
Rebekah shuddered at the thought. Harold Nash must not be permitted to oversee the children’s welfare. The man obviously cared for nothing but his own selfish ambition. Those two little girls would be miserable, lonely...and if either of them dared to voice their complaints—
Dreadful memories swarmed over her. An iron hand, a riding crop, a razor strap—it made no difference. Each wounded deeply in its own way. Fierce determination rose within Rebekah. There had been no champion for her, no one in her father’s house to protect her from his rage. I will not leave Grace and Kathleen to suffer the same. So help me, I will not.
But she could not take them away from here. The children were not her flesh and blood. She had no legal claim to them. Rebekah crossed the floor several more times, plotting, pondering. Then she froze. She knew what she must do, and she knew how hard it would be.
Protecting them means staying...staying with a man who does not love me, one whose temper may flair at any subject, and who could be sent to prison at any moment. But if that did happen and she was here, perhaps Harold Nash would consign the children to her. Surely he would not wish to be troubled with them.
Rebekah drew in a ragged breath, knowing there was another reason she could not run. No matter what Henry’s motives, she had made her marriage vow from the heart. God would surely be displeased with me if I went back on it. She had known her own father’s displeasure enough. She certainly did not wish to experience the wrath of the Almighty.
So it is settled, she thought, though her heart and mind were far from experiencing any peace. I must make the best of it. For my sake and for the children. I can manage a loveless marriage, even if I had wished for more. Mother has lasted all these years. So will I.
Resolve dried her tears. Going to the bedroom door, she peeked into the hall. Seeing the space was empty, she crossed over to Grace and Kathleen’s room.
The two little girls were sound asleep. One was in the bed, the other in the cradle. Rebekah stared at their sweet little faces, so innocent, so in need of security and love. She regretted not coming to them earlier, not kissing them good-night. She did so now, then stepped back and sighed. Yes, she would follow her mother’s example of steadfast duty, but there was one thing Rebekah was determined to do differently. She would bury her pain and disappointment deep inside. She would do her best always to have a cheery countenance in front of the children.
Grace and Kathleen will never lack love from me.
* * *
Henry passed the night alone in his study. Once his father had left the house, he’d retired to the room and walked the floor for hours. His past actions tormented him, but the uncertainty of the future was even worse.
Upstairs were a wife and two little girls for whom he was responsible. Henry was determined to come clean with Detective Smith, but even so, the original dilemma remained. Once he had confessed, how could he protect his sister’s children? How could he provide for Rebekah? Regardless of the reasons for their marriage, the state of it now, he was bound to her. His honor—what was left of it—demanded it. His heart wished for it, as well.
He knew he wasn’t in love with her as a bridegroom should be, but he did care for her. She was a lovely woman. He thought her highly intelligent, caring. He enjoyed her company, and before tonight, she seemed to enjoy mine.
Henry couldn’t help but wonder—if circumstances had been different, if politics and war had not been part of the equation, would they have fallen in love? He sighed heavily.
It does no good to speculate now. This is my reality, and somehow I must manage it as best as I can for all involved.
But his management thus far had been severely lacking. He was in over his head. He had been from the very first day he’d taken charge of Grace and Kathleen. No matter how much he wanted to make things right for them or for Rebekah, he was only making things worse.
From somewhere in the back of his mind, familiar words emerged: “For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do.”
Henry recognized the words of the Apostle Paul from his mother’s bedtime Scripture readings. When he was a child, she had reminded him often,
“You cannot be good on your own, Henry. As much as you may wish to, you cannot keep the law well enough to please God.”
“Then how does one please Him?” he had asked.
“By confessing your faults to Him, by accepting His grace... Remember, ‘there is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus...’”
No condemnation? Could that really be the case? If anyone deserved condemnation, it was he. Rebekah’s words sliced through his memory.
“You are just like my father!”
Shame turned his stomach, for Henry realized she was exactly right. He had done and said things to manipulate her for his own benefit. I am a liar. I have been arrogant, thinking my past mistakes could be hidden. I am self-righteous, seeing the flaws in others’ characters but not recognizing them in myself.
The revelation pierced him to the core. What was he to do now? He couldn’t right the damage he had done to Rebekah, and in his present state, he was likely to cause more unintentionally.
Again the Scripture verse whispered through his mind. “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus...”
He contemplated the meaning of those words. Their weight was suddenly staggering. Unable to stand on his own power, Henry bent his knees. Oh, God, how can you show such mercy to a man like me?
He recalled another verse. “For the law of the Spirit of Life hath made me free from the law of sin and death...”
The Sprit of Life, he thought, the spirit found through accepting Jesus Christ as Savior.
Going to the shelf, Henry found his Bible. He turned to the book of Romans, chapter eight. Hungrily he read the words his mother had taught him. No, he could not be good enough on his own, but God knew that and loved him, anyway. The secret to life wasn’t living by his own wits or in his own strength. It was living in the grace that Christ would provide.
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, persecution or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.
Henry sighed once more. If only he had remembered such promises. If only he had read them before he’d let his fears of prison and ruined reputation consume him. I could have saved my wife much heartache. God loves Grace and Kathleen even more than I. Would He not have provided for them without my interference in the course of justice?
For I am persuaded that neither death nor life...nor things present, nor things to come...shall be able to separate us from the love of God...
The Scripture testified boldly that nothing could make God stop loving Henry—not his fears, not his failures, not even his most deliberate sins—but inside, his soul was still churning. God may grant mercy, but Detective Smith may not. Once more he bowed his head. Help me God...help me to trust You. Help me believe that Kathleen, Grace and Rebekah will be looked after.
He spent the rest of the night reading, praying, thinking, planning. Shortly before sunrise, Henry climbed the staircase. He went to his room, shaved and changed his wrinkled clothing. James, Hannah and Sadie were beginning to stir, but the rest of the house remained quiet. Grace and Kathleen had thankfully managed a restful night. Henry wondered how Rebekah had fared. For a moment he thought of knocking on her door, attempting to speak with her, but he decided not to.
It would benefit neither of them to repeat last night’s argument, nor would it help the girls. Forgoing his wife’s room, he looked in on the nursery. Much to his surprise, he found Rebekah there. She was curled up in the bed beside Kathleen. Grace was bundled between them.
So that is why the little ones passed a silent night. Henry found himself smiling, though his expression was a sad one. Rebekah truly cared for the children. Again, he couldn’t help but think what this household might have been like if their marriage had begun on different grounds.
God, help me. I know I must move forward. Give me courage and the faith to believe You will take care of them. Shutting the door quietly, he left the house. Deciding to seek legal representation before visiting Detective Smith, he went first to see attorney William Davis.
The streets of Baltimore were still relatively quiet at this hour. Early sunlight pushed its way through gaps between buildings, bathing the streets in a rosy-gold glow. Henry would have thought the morning beautiful were it not for the heaviness of his heart and mind. Reaching the home of Mr. Davis, he rang the bell. The attorney himself answered the door.
“Why, Councilman Nash, what brings you here?”
Henry removed his hat. “Business, I’m afraid. I apologize for the earliness of the hour, but it is important. Have you a few moments to spare?”
“I do. Please, come in.”
He followed the attorney to his library. The man offered him a seat across from his desk.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Davis said as he claimed his own chair.
Henry didn’t know how to respond to that, so he simply stated a fact. “My wife and I were married several days ago.”
The older gentleman nodded pleasantly. “Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright stopped by yesterday. They told me the news. I daresay once my daughter, Emily, returns from Washington, she’ll be showering your Rebekah with gifts.” He paused to chuckle. “In fact, all the girls will. You’ll soon have a parlor full of tea cakes and chattering females.”
Probably not now, Henry couldn’t help but think.
Davis then turned serious. “Well, you said you were here on business. What may I do for you?”
“I may be in trouble with the provost marshal,” he said.
Davis offered a somewhat sarcastic smile. “You wouldn’t be the first Maryland man. Does it concern some political opinion you have expressed?”
“Well, you know my father wasn’t particularly fond of Lincoln, and he made no secret of his disdain for his policies. I also had a brother-in-law who served in the rebel army.”
Davis nodded. “And you believe you are now suspected of disloyalty because of this?”
“Yes. Because of those issues and an unfortunate series of encounters.” Confiding in the attorney, he told of his visit to the Branson Boarding House and the carriage ride with John Wilkes Booth.
Davis leaned back in his chair, listening wide-eyed. “Well,” he said after taking it all in, “you’ve certainly done nothing criminal, but given the current climate, the frenzy over the assassination, I can understand why you’re worried.”
“Detective Smith has been turning up quite a bit here lately.”
“Has he already questioned you?”
“No, but I know he suspects something. I can just tell. Do you think I should go to him and explain what happened?”
Davis thought for a moment. “Concerning Booth and Miss Branson—and through her, Lewis Paine—you have no information to give that Detective Smith doesn’t already know, but I do believe it would be best to be forthright. Unfortunately, it may lead to a bit of hounding on his part, but if he’s been turning up already, as you say, he was bound to question you at some point.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve dealt with many cases just like yours. We’ll see that this matter is ended soon enough.”
“How soon?” Henry asked, remembering the councilman Smith had investigated previously. His life had been turned upside down for nearly a year.
“Probably not as soon as you’d like. Even though you would be offering a sworn statement, the detective may not be satisfied entirely with that. He may seek to hold you in custody until your story is corroborated.”
That was exactly what Henry had feared. The Baltimore authorities were notorious for letting lengthy amounts of time pass before a story was corroborated. “I am now responsible for my late sister’s children. Two young nieces. The youngest is not yet three months old.”
David nodded again thoughtfully. “I will stress that fact to the detective. I should think that Smith will take into account your reputation as a city councilman and your good standing in the community.”
Davis glanced at a small appointment book on his desk. “I was to meet with another client at nine, but I could reschedule. Detective Smith was in Annapolis yesterday, but it is my understanding that he returned to Baltimore this morning. We could do our best to resolve your issue today, if you like.”
Fear prickled Henry’s skin. He wanted resolution, yes—but would today bring relief or the beginning of something far worse? Of one thing he was certain, however. Doing nothing would solve nothing. Lord, give me courage. I believe this is the path You wish for me to take. “I’d appreciate if you would reschedule your other client, sir.”
The attorney nodded. “I’ll have my assistant deliver the message.”
“Thank you,” Henry said, “and, if you don’t mind, there is another matter...”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to make a few changes to my will.”
* * *
Rebekah woke to the sound of Grace crying. It was feeding time again, and the baby wanted to be certain Rebekah understood that. Hearing her sister’s demands, Kathleen soon stirred, as well. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then blinked at Rebekah. “Did you stay with us?” she asked.
“Yes,” she answered, though she did not tell her exactly why. “You had fallen asleep before I could kiss you last night.”
“Sadie said you and Uncle Henry would come when you could, that Grandfather had come and you had to visit him.”
“Yes,” was all Rebekah could think to say.
Kathleen slid from beneath her blankets, then made her way to the wardrobe. Opening it, she stared at her dresses.
“Let me see to your sister first. Then I’ll help you.”
“Yes’m.” The little girl plopped down on the floor to wait.
Sunlight was filtering through the shutter slats, proclaiming a beautiful spring morning. Despite her smiles to the children, Rebekah felt no joy, only trepidation. What awaited her downstairs? Would she be able to face Henry and his father, make suitable conversation with them for the sake of the girls? Dare she ask God for His assistance? Since my request is really on behalf of the children, will He answer it?
Sadie’s soft rapping was heard upon the door. “Breakfast is about ready, miss,” she announced. “Mama set two places. One for you and one for Miss Kathleen.”
“Just two?”
“Yes, miss. Delegate Nash left the house last night. James says he returned to Annapolis. And Mr. Henry’s done left for the mornin’.”
So they were both gone? Rebekah felt relieved to know her father-in-law was no longer under the roof. She wasn’t quite sure what she thought about her husband, however. Where has he gone? What is he doing, and how will it affect the children?
“You want me to take Miss Grace and get her fed?” Sadie asked.
Given her state of mind at the moment and the tremble in her hands, perhaps that was best. Besides, Kathleen needed dressing. Rebekah did, too, and she did not wish to keep Hannah and breakfast waiting.
“Thank you, Sadie. I’d appreciate that. I’ll see to the next feeding.”
“Yes’m.”
Fifteen minutes later, with laces drawn and hooks and eyes all fastened, Rebekah and Kathleen entered the dining room. Kathleen seemed not the least bit bothered by Henry’s empty chair, yet Rebekah found herself staring at it repeatedly. Was it really only yesterday that he had sat there and told her of his service in the balloon corps? How intrigued Rebekah had been. How her heart had pounded as she’d hung on his every word.
Now it squeezed with pain. Then we stepped into the study. Then he grew so angry when I spoke of Maggie Branson. Then his father said those horrible words...
She never wanted to step foot in the study again, but she did still wish to know what was happening with the trial, especially now that it could involve her own husband. When James came into the dining room a moment later to see if she had need of his services, she asked him if he would bring her the newspapers.
“Yes, miss. Straightaway.”
He returned shortly with the stack of publications. Rebekah thanked him and then began scouring the headlines.
Notable Baltimore attorney Reverdy Johnson had resigned as Mary Surratt’s defense council, and a new man had taken his place. One publication speculated that Johnson had decided he could not in good conscience defend such a woman. Another ventured he was withdrawing because he had taken a case he realized he could not win. Still another suggested he was doing it for Surratt’s benefit—that as a Maryland man, his loyalty was under suspicion by the military tribunal, as well. The new attorney, a war hero named Frederick Aiken, would ensure a more fair trial for the woman.
Rebekah did not know what to think of Reverdy Johnson or Mary Surratt or anyone else. This world is full of liars, cheats, crafty people willing to do or say anything to save their own skin, she thought. This household is proof.
A chill spread through her as she laid the paper aside. She realized Henry’s troubles with Detective Smith were not only his own. I very well could be implicated in some way or, at the least, questioned rigorously because I am his wife. Also, I worked in that hospital. I knew Maggie Branson and Lewis Paine.
She looked across the table at Kathleen. Unaware of the grave circumstances, the child was innocently sipping her milk. As she watched her, Rebekah’s anxiety grew. The newspapers were also full of stories of those connected with the trial. Anna Surratt, Mary Surratt’s daughter, was practically a prisoner in her own home while she waited to learn her mother’s fate. Even the daughter of a respected New Hampshire senator was not exempt. Lucy Hale, who had reportedly been John Wilkes Booth’s sweetheart, was now being ostracized by Washington society.
Will Kathleen and Grace suffer the same fate?
The little girl set down her now empty glass. “Can we go into the garden?” she asked hopefully. “You said yesterday there are still weeds to be pulled.”
Rebekah had no desire now to improve upon Henry’s landscape, but Kathleen had so enjoyed digging in the dirt, and she did not wish to disappoint her. Perhaps the feel of the earth between her own fingers would give Rebekah a measure of peace.
She did her best to smile. “I did say that, didn’t I? Yes. We can go out into the garden, but first, let’s go back upstairs and change into an older dress.”
“Will you take Grace outside, too?”
“Yes, of course.” She shepherded Kathleen to the foyer. They were halfway up the staircase when a knock sounded on the front door. Rebekah froze. It was still rather early. Just who was paying them a call at this hour?
“You go on upstairs,” she told Kathleen, hoping the nervousness in her voice was not apparent. “I’ll be there directly.”
The little girl climbed the rest of the steps. When she reached the upper landing, Rebekah turned. James had already opened the door. He shut it again before Rebekah reached the foyer floor.
“Letter for you, miss,” he said as he held out an envelope.
Rebekah breathed a shallow sigh. “Thank you, James. Who was that?”
“It was Mr. Davis’s man.”
Mr. Davis? William Davis, the attorney? Why would he be sending her a letter? A sick feeling washed over her.
Knowing she would wish to read her news in private, James moved on. Rebekah stared for a moment at the envelope in her hand, then slowly opened it. She hadn’t recognized the handwriting—she hadn’t seen it before—but she soon spotted the signature. She was tempted to crumple the letter and throw it in the wastebasket when she realized it was from her husband.
What more could you possibly have to say to me? she thought, but she forced herself to read. Amid Henry’s profound apologies was a promise to do right by her and the children.
I have gone to seek out Detective Smith. I will not return until I have told him everything that occurred the day John Wilkes Booth was in Baltimore. In the event that I am implicated in the conspiracy, please return the enclosed document to William Davis. He will assist you.
Rebekah looked then at the document he had included with the letter. Shock ripped the air from her lungs. Henry Nash had just signed over his home, all his worldly processions and the guardianship of his two nieces to her.