The Reluctant Bridegroom

by Shannon Farrington

  “Is that your mother?” Rebekah asked gently.

  Kathleen nodded but said nothing. Rebekah could only wonder what was going through the poor child’s mind.

  “She is very pretty,” Rebekah said. “You look like her.”

  The little girl stared down at the picture as if she were trying to decide if Rebekah’s words were true or not. Rebekah’s anxiety grew. She so desperately wanted to connect with Kathleen. She herself knew all too well what it was like to feel distant from those who were supposed to care for her.

  As she glanced out the window, an idea came to her like a gift. The garden!

  She remembered Kathleen’s delight over the jonquils presented to her. She remembered the conversation she’d once had with Henry, as well.

  “I am afraid I haven’t the time or the skill to make this plot what it once was,” he had said.

  “Would you like to go outside and help me in the garden?” Rebekah asked Kathleen.

  Finally a look of interest, even eagerness, crossed the girl’s face. “Mama had a garden,” she said.

  Enormously relieved by the response, Rebekah released a pent-up breath. “What kind of flowers did she have?”

  “Big ones, little ones, pink ones, yellow ones...”

  “Then what say we go outside and see if we can find some of the same?”

  Kathleen nodded quickly.

  “Very good!” Rebekah said.

  They returned to the first floor. Rebekah found a cradle basket in the foyer, which she imagined Hannah laid Grace in when she was busy. “We can put your sister in this,” she told Kathleen. “She can look at the trees and the sky while we work with the flowers.”

  The feeding now finished, Grace and Hannah were in the kitchen. The cook was holding the child in one arm, stirring a pot on the stove with the other hand.

  “Here, Hannah. I’ll take her now,” Rebekah said.

  “Thank you, miss.”

  Rebekah told Hannah of her plan.

  “That’s a good idea,” the woman said. “I sure would like to see that garden looked after, but I just don’ have the time for it, myself.”

  Pleased, Rebekah was ready to move forward. However, the instant she laid the baby in the basket, Grace began to cry. Rebekah immediately tensed. What was she doing wrong? She patted the baby gently. “Shh, shh, little one. It’s all right...”

  “She doesn’t like bein’ in that basket,” Kathleen informed her.

  That was obvious by the wailing. Rebekah wondered how such a tiny child could produce such an ear-splitting protest. She continued to pat the baby, tried to reassure her. Short of being held, however, Grace was inconsolable.

  What do I do now? How am I to work with Kathleen if I must hold the baby?

  “You might try tyin’ her to your bosom,” Hannah suggested. “That’s what I sometimes do. That way she still feels close to you, but you can have your hands free.”

  It was worth a try, for clearly Grace did not wish to be on her own. Hannah brought a large piece of cloth and secured it around her. “There. Now we put Miss Grace in just like so...”

  The added weight of a child against her chest was something Rebekah wasn’t used to, but she would gladly adjust. Hannah had been right. Snuggled now against Rebekah’s heart, Grace soon settled. Rebekah’s nervousness did, as well.

  “Well, then,” she said. “I believe this will work. Thank you, Hannah.” She offered a now free hand to Kathleen. “Shall we?”

  Outside, the early May sunshine felt warm and comfortable. A rain shower the previous evening had freshened the air. Rebekah drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scents around her and her heart with determination. She didn’t bother to search for hand tools or gloves. The ground was soft, and she soon discovered that the weeds easily surrendered to a simple tug.

  “We need to give the flowers room to grow,” she explained to Kathleen.

  Soon the child was knees-down beside her, hands deep in the moist earth and loving every minute of it. The mud did not bother her in the least. It had never bothered Rebekah, either. Only her mother and father were offended by it. Rebekah smiled to herself. She need not worry about appearing unladylike now.

  If Henry isn’t due to arrive until six, we can work until midafternoon and still have plenty of time to bathe and dress for dinner. Wouldn’t her husband be surprised to see how much she had completed by then? Won’t he appreciate the effort it takes to restore his mother’s garden to the beauty it surely once must have held? But most important, she was certain he’d appreciate the fact that Kathleen was enjoying herself. The little girl’s personality was beginning to blossom. She was asking questions about the flowers, pointing out butterflies. Grace was also content. From her pouch, she now cooed.

  Rebekah’s anxieties evaporated with the morning dew as she and Kathleen rescued tulips from strangling weeds and braided spent daffodil greenery so next month’s flowers would have their turn on the stage.

  Confidence bubbled up within her. Despite a disastrous beginning, she believed she could indeed be a good mother, even if she was still unsure how to be a good wife for Henry. Hopefully she could make her husband happy by making the children happy. The pile of weeds beside her was proof of her determination, and Kathleen’s delight at discovering wild geraniums was Rebekah’s reward.

  “One of my mama’s flowers!” she exclaimed.

  Rebekah happily plucked her a cluster. “Don’t they smell good?”

  Kathleen buried her nose in the purple petals, then grinned.

  “Here now,” Rebekah said, “we’ll put them in your hair. Then you’ll be a fairy princess.”

  “And fly with the butterflies.”

  “Indeed.” Rebekah grinned.

  The sun climbed higher, as did the temperature, but Rebekah welcomed the warmth. Grace, well protected from the sun, now slept soundly against her chest. Kathleen flitted about the garden, discovering budding vines and grasshoppers in a mixture of play and curiosity.

  “You have dirt on your face,” she said to Rebekah with a giggle.

  “So do you. Never fear. A little soap and water will have us presentable again soon enough.”

  “When Uncle Henry comes home, I’ll show him all the pretty flowers.”

  “I’m certain he will be most pleased,” Rebekah said. I won’t disappoint him this time.

  It was then that she heard the sound of the back door opening. Thinking it was probably Sadie coming to claim Grace, she looked up. Embarrassment flooded through her. It wasn’t Sadie, and it was too late for soap and water now.

  Henry was home early.

  * * *

  Henry paused the moment he saw his new bride. She was a sight for certain. The prim and proper daughter of the next would-be governor was in dirt up to her elbows, with a baby strapped to her chest like a common field laborer. Beside her, Kathleen looked much the same. Dirt caked her hands and stained her dress. Neither of them was wearing a sunbonnet. Hair had escaped the confines of their combs and buns. It was now flower bedecked and tangled. They were smiling and laughing, and Henry had never seen a more beautiful sight.

  The moment Rebekah noticed him, however, the smile fled from her face. She immediately stood and tried to wipe the dirt from her dress and hands. It was to no avail. Henry would have laughed were it not for the look of fear on her face. Why did his appearance provoke such a reaction? Did it have anything to do with his behavior last night? The visitor who had paid him a call?

  Did she somehow know that Detective Smith had asked to see her?

  “Why?” Henry had immediately wished to know.

  “To congratulate her on the wedding nuptials,” the man had claimed. “I was not able to attend your wedding.”

  Henry hadn’t known what to say to that. Had Theodore Van
der Geld actually invited the man? If so, to what end? His father-in-law had come to him seeking this marital arrangement. What would he gain if Henry was publically humiliated? Or was it that Smith had simply invited himself—to the wedding, and now to their home? Was he about to finger a new conspirator? If he was, he didn’t need Rebekah to do so.

  “Mrs. Nash is not to be disturbed,” he had told the man. “If you wish to call, you may do so at a more convenient time.”

  Smith had accepted the firm reply with contrite posture. “Of course. My apologies.” And with that he had left.

  Henry had gone to Rebekah directly after the disturbing encounter. He realized now that he shouldn’t have done so. Surely she recognized my distress. Had she misinterpreted it as some deficiency of her own?

  He tried his best to be jovial now as he approached her. “Well, you’ve been hard at work today,” he said.

  “Yes...” she stammered. “I...th-thought I’d...s-start on the garden...”

  “So I see.” Henry glanced about. There were plants now visible that he hadn’t even known he possessed. “You’ve done a fine job.” Inwardly he winced. A fine job? I sound like I am complimenting Hannah or Sadie, not speaking to my wife.

  “We found flowers like Mama’s!” Kathleen announced. “See?” She plucked a purple blossom and presented it to him.

  “Beautiful,” he said. “Thank you.” The little girl grinned at him. Henry tried to encourage one from his wife. “Your dress.” He chuckled. “If your father could see you now...”

  His comment had not the effect he intended. Reddening, Rebekah looked down at the ground. “I apologize for my appearance... I d-did not expect you home so soon. If you will excuse me, I’ll make certain Kathleen and I—”

  He caught her arm before she could reach for the child. He felt terrible. “I didn’t mean...the truth is, I think you look...beautiful.”

  Her eyes slowly met his. They were filled with incredulity.

  He couldn’t blame her for her disbelief. He knew he hadn’t acted right last night. It had been her very first evening in a strange home, and he had done little to make her feel welcome. After saying good-night, he had walked to the room at the end of the hall and shut the door behind him. And today, he had left while she was still asleep—hadn’t even thought to leave a message for her with Hannah. How could he win his wife’s love if he didn’t spend time with her? How can I spend time with her without running the risk of her finding out why I married her in the first place?

  Henry tucked Kathleen’s blossom in the pocket of his frock coat as she scampered to the far end of the garden. When she was out of earshot, Henry tried his best to explain. “I was distracted last night, and for that I am sorry. I was thinking politics...the assassination and all...” He didn’t tell Rebekah any more than that, and thankfully, she did not ask.

  “And the council is what took you away early this morning,” she said. It was a statement, not a question, as if she completely accepted the intrusion of public service on one’s private life.

  The request to convene had come just after sunrise. The concern was over former rebel soldiers now making their way home. The provost marshal was worried they would stir up trouble. With much of the Federal army still involved in the investigation surrounding Lincoln’s murder, the acting authorities wanted the Baltimore city police department to remain on full alert, and to have funding for additional deputies approved.

  Henry told her all about it. Rebekah’s eyes were wide with interest. “It’s no wonder they are so concerned,” she said. “I saw the newspaper on your desk. The trial of the conspirators begins today.”

  He felt the jolt of that last sentence. The emotion must have shown on his face, for Rebekah immediately looked contrite. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Henry blinked. Why was she apologizing?

  “I didn’t disturb the paper,” she explained. “I only glanced at the headline.”

  He blinked again. “Rebekah, why do you feel the need to assure me that you only glanced at the headline?”

  She hesitated, then looked again at her mud-stained skirts. “Father didn’t wish for his mail to be disturbed.”

  He tried to make sense of what she’d just said. There had to be more to it than a man wanting to keep his desk in order. “You mean, he didn’t wish for you to disturb it?”

  She nodded slowly. “Especially the newspapers.”

  “Why?”

  She bit her lip before answering. “He said young ladies needn’t concern themselves with such things. That we have no aptitude for understanding such matters.”

  Indignation swept through Henry. His proud father-in-law, Theodore Van der Geld, champion of liberty to the slaves—and at the same time, enslaver of women. The contradiction sickened him.

  “He is wrong,” Henry said firmly. “Rebekah, you may read the newspapers and anything else in this house that is of interest to you anytime you wish. You need not ask my permission or pardon.”

  Her face brightened. “Truly?”

  “Indeed. You are my wife. I want you to be happy.”

  The look she gave him made his pulse quicken. Was this the beginning of love? Was this what it felt like? Henry didn’t know, but if it was, he wanted to feel more of it.

  “Now tell me,” he said, “besides the garden and the newspapers, what else are you fond of? And don’t give me an answer you think I want to hear. Hannah has already told me you’ve made absolutely no changes to the menu whatsoever.”

  Embarrassment once more colored her face, but this time the hint of a smile accompanied it. “I should like to learn more of your work with the council,” she said. “What you do day in and day out.”

  “All right. What else?”

  “I’d like to know more about your time in the balloon corps.”

  “I’d be happy to share such things with you,” he said.

  “And I would like to learn more about this trial. Did you know that one of the accused conspirators is a woman?”

  His heart slammed into his ribs. “Yes.” Mary Surratt, the widow who ran the Washington boardinghouse where Booth supposedly plotted to kill the president.

  Of all the things he and his new bride could discuss, she had chosen the one topic he so wished to avoid. How was he to escape this conversation without discouraging her? Thankfully, he didn’t have to come up with a solution.

  “Oh, listen to me,” Rebekah then said. “I’m prattling away... You’ll be sorry you ever asked of my interests.”

  “No, I won’t,” he said. It was the truth. He wanted to learn her, win her, love her. What he didn’t want was for Rebekah to open the paper one morning and find the names of Mary Surratt and John Wilkes Booth listed beside his own.

  Chapter Seven

  The dresses had been set to soaking, the dirt from their faces and hands completely washed away. While Sadie assisted Kathleen and looked after Grace, Rebekah donned a simple cotton wrapper and made her way down the back staircase to the kitchen.

  “I admire your persistence, Miss Rebekah,” Hannah said as she handed her a bottle of warm goat’s milk.

  “And I your patience,” Rebekah replied. After claiming a seat at the table Hannah handed her a fidgety Grace. “Now, little one,” Rebekah said in what she hoped was a calm, soothing tone, “let’s try this again, shall we?”

  The baby hungrily began to suck. Hannah stood guard over Rebekah’s right shoulder. If she had been stern, eager to find fault, then it would have been intimidating. But her intentions were so clearly helpful and supportive that Rebekah found her presence comforting.

  “Now turn,” Hannah instructed.

  Rebekah maneuvered the glass bottle and rag very slowly. Grace kept drinking.

  “Very good,” the older woman said, “and see, you don’t have to tilt it
that much. She’s drawing the milk out on her own.”

  What a difference a little guidance and a word of encouragement could make. Feeling the tension slip from her shoulders, Rebekah began to enjoy the warmth of a baby at her breast. Surely the task of mothering was more than just a challenge. It was also a delight.

  Grace’s eyelids closed as she surrendered to a peaceful slumber. The bottle was empty, but Rebekah didn’t want to let her go.

  “Best let me give her to Sadie now,” Hannah said. “You’ll need to change for supper. It’s just about ready.”

  Supper...yes...

  Returning upstairs, Rebekah changed into a russet-colored evening dress, then stepped in front of the looking glass to survey her appearance. A near giddiness, a feeling she rarely experienced, quickened her movements. She had never been fashionable like her friends Julia or Sally. She hadn’t a beautiful smile like Emily or the vibrant green eyes with which Elizabeth and her twin sister, Trudy, had been blessed. And yet, today, Henry said I was beautiful.

  How her heart had soared with those words. He’d said he wanted to win her. She found herself wishing to be won.

  Henry was waiting for her in the foyer when she came down. He was dressed in a black frock coat and trousers. His blue silk vest matched the color of his eyes. That giddiness inside her grew. He may not be heart-stoppingly handsome, but he is indeed a fine-looking man.

  Kathleen stood beside him, wearing her beloved yellow dress, the picture of girlish innocence. “Don’t you look beautiful?” Rebekah said to her.

  The girl grinned shyly. “My dress is all clean.”

  “Yes. We must thank Sadie for seeing to it so quickly.”

  Kathleen nodded.

  Henry had watched the entire exchange with a look of quiet approval, a look that stirred Rebekah’s emotions all the more.

  “Shall we?” he said, motioning toward the dining room. The three of them sat down together.

  Hannah had prepared roast chicken and vegetables. The fare was not as extravagant as what Rebekah was accustomed to in her father’s home, but the meal was delicious just the same. Apparently Kathleen thought so, as well. She ate heartily.