Mrs. Lincoln's Rival

by Jennifer Chiaverini

  Mrs. Lincoln’s smile deepened and hardened. “Or better, perhaps. Almost certainly better.”

  With that, she moved off in a swirl of silk skirts, leaving Kate watching after her, utterly astonished.

  Soon thereafter, word came that General Scott was ill and would not be able to join them after all. Mr. Nicolay signaled for the Marine Band to strike up a spirited march, and as the brisk, merry tune played, Kate quickly composed herself, found her father, and let him lead her into the state dining room. Mr. Lincoln’s place was in the middle of one side of the long table rather than at the head, while Mrs. Lincoln sat opposite him, and the others were seated all around according to rank. Kate found herself across the table from a Mr. William Howard Russell, a correspondent for the London Times, who seemed as charmed by Kate’s conversation as she was by his wit and accent.

  The food was excellent, the talk around the table bright and lively and quick, but whenever Mr. Lincoln spoke, all other voices hushed and all faces turned to him expectantly as he spun an amusing tale or made a point with a clever witticism. From the first course to the sweets, Mrs. Lincoln was so merry and chatty and smiling that Kate found herself wondering if she had imagined the strange confrontation in the Blue Room.

  After the meal, the gentlemen withdrew to the Red Room, but just before the ladies were led off to an adjoining drawing room, Kate observed Mr. Nicolay whisper in her father’s ear, and then in Mr. Seward’s, and on to each member of the cabinet in turn. Just before a servant closed the door between the rooms, Kate glimpsed Mr. Lincoln and his cabinet quietly disappearing into another chamber while the other gentlemen lit cigars and poured brandy, apparently oblivious to their quiet departure.

  Kate frowned at the closed door. Her curiosity would have to remain unsatisfied until the drive home, when her father would surely tell her everything.

  She chatted easily with the other ladies, even Mrs. Lincoln, but her thoughts were with her father, wondering what intriguing subjects of national importance the men were discussing. Had the president finally decided whether to send provisions to Major Anderson’s men holding Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor? Had Virginia at last declared its intention to remain in the Union or to secede with the South? How she wished she could put an ear to the wall and listen. Her father was open and frank when he confided to her the substance of such clandestine conferences, but sometimes he missed the subtleties of tone and implication and expression, and thereby a significant amount of any conversation. He relied upon her for those observations, and for a great deal more besides.

  She managed to stifle a sigh of relief when at last the gentlemen rejoined the ladies. She sensed a new tension in the air as she studied the cabinet secretaries and tried to read their expressions, but like her father, they were careful to maintain a facade of the former joviality of the party. She noticed that Mrs. Lincoln’s keen gaze was often upon the president’s face, and she knew that Mrs. Lincoln was as eager to hear his account of the secret meeting as Kate was to hear her father’s.

  When the evening at last drew to a close, Kate slipped on her shawl, took her father’s arm, and bade Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln good night. “I do hope we will prove all the rumors false and become good friends,” Kate told the First Lady quietly while her father and the president were otherwise distracted. “There is already too much division in our country for us to contribute to it. If malicious gossips are eagerly anticipating a fight between us, let’s conspire to disappoint them.”

  “Why, I hope we will become good friends too,” Mrs. Lincoln replied grandly, too loudly and too brightly, not for Kate but for everyone else. For Kate she reserved a private, haughty glare that announced she meant not a word of it. “I shall be glad to see you at any time, Miss Chase.”

  Kate’s temper flared. She had spoken with utter frankness and sincerity, but Mrs. Lincoln was determined to be disagreeable. “Mrs. Lincoln,” she said, smiling graciously, “I shall be glad to have you call on me at any time.”

  Mrs. Lincoln’s eyes widened with shock at her impudence, but Kate’s smile only deepened as she turned and left the White House on her father’s arm.

  Those who had overheard the exchange might conclude that Kate had innocently misspoken, that because of her youth and inexperience she was unaware of the custom that decreed that the First Lady did not call on others. Mrs. Lincoln was first in Washington society by virtue of her husband’s exalted position, and so, as an inviolable rule, others came to her. But it had been no girlish mistake. Kate understood precedent perfectly well, and she knew that by assuming that Mrs. Lincoln would call upon her like any other lady of Washington society might, she was claiming a higher rank than the First Lady.

  Kate knew it, and Mrs. Lincoln knew it too.

  Kate had tried to befriend her, but she had been coldly and unreasonably rebuffed. She would not try again.

  If Mrs. Lincoln was determined to have a rival, Kate would be happy to oblige.

  Chapter One

  * * *

  MARCH 1858

  O

  n a bright Saturday afternoon in Ohio, with sunlight and birdsong outside her window setting an appropriately joyful scene for her errand, Kate dressed with care in her best blue riding dress and gathered her long auburn locks into a hairnet. Her father had entrusted to her a most important task—nothing less than the redemption of an innocent man—and she must show due respect to the occasion.

  The previous evening, after her father had finished his customary program of study and prayer, he had found himself with an idle hour, which, disapproving of idleness, he had sought to fill. Kate immediately proposed a game of chess, and as they studied the pieces and predicted each other’s next moves, Father had told her about the prisoner, an aged Polish immigrant who had fought bravely for his adopted country in the War of 1812 but sometime thereafter had been convicted of burglary. For years he had patiently served out his sentence in Hamilton county without the consolation of friends or any hope of reprieve, but in the course of a transfer to the state penitentiary in Columbus, new facts had come to light suggesting that he could not have committed the crime. “I have become convinced that because of his years and declining health,” Father said as he captured Kate’s rook, “justice would be better served if I grant him a pardon rather than await the outcome of a new trial. I’ve made up my mind to sign the papers tomorrow afternoon, and as soon as they’re delivered to the warden, the poor old fellow shall walk through the prison gates a free man.”

  Kate felt such a rush of joy and pride that she nearly overlooked that her father was two moves away from placing her in check. “Let me deliver the pardon for you,” she implored, moving her bishop to defend her king. “What a blessing it would be to carry such good news, to help deliver an innocent man from unjust captivity.”

  “And what an honor and comfort it would be for the old gentleman,” her father said, nodding approvingly, “to have his liberty restored to him by a compassionate young woman, the governor’s own child, rather than an anonymous clerk.”

  They agreed that Kate should retrieve the signed document from her father’s office in the capitol the following day, as soon as it could be prepared. Then her father wondered aloud if Kate ought not to travel unescorted. “Perhaps Aunt Alice should accompany you.”

  “I’d prefer to go alone.” The noble mission was Kate’s idea and she intended to carry it out herself. “Besides, Aunt Alice will be busy with Nettie.”

  For a moment she feared she had miscalculated, and that her father would next decree that both Aunt Alice and ten-year-old Nettie should accompany her, but instead he reluctantly agreed. “Do not acquire any unsuitable companions along the way,” he instructed her, and as she nodded, she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Would he never forgive the foolish mistakes of her girlhood? She knew she had erred in the past, that she had allowed herself to fall under the heady spell of men’s admiration and flattery, but
no lasting harm to her person or reputation had been done, and they ought to let the incidents fade into history. She had resolved never to repeat them, and she was not a guileless girl anymore but a woman grown, almost eighteen. She ran her father’s household as skillfully as her mother or Nettie’s mother or his first wife would have done, had they lived, and she had become what he had raised her to be—an educated young woman, “qualified to ornament any society in our own country or elsewhere into which I may have occasion to take you,” as he had written to her so many years before when she was a lonely, motherless girl at boarding school in New York. He had relentlessly urged her to pursue her studies diligently, to cultivate her manners, to establish sound moral and religious principles, and all this she had done, the better to help him achieve his noble ambitions.

  She knew too that if she made herself indispensable to him, he would never again send her away to boarding school—nor would he find it necessary to seek a fourth Mrs. Chase.

  The memory of her father’s warning dimmed the brilliance of the day, but only for a moment, and soon she was flying down the stairs as lighthearted as a child and searching the house for her aunt and sister. She found them in the parlor side by side on the settee, Aunt Alice nodding patiently as Nettie stumbled through her Latin recitations. Nettie glanced up from her work eagerly upon Kate’s arrival, glad for any excuse to set her studies aside. She would much rather be drawing, or composing little stories in English, or flitting about in the garden. Little golden-haired Nettie resembled their strong-featured father too much to be truly pretty, but her sweet manner and cheerful spirits inspired affection from all who met her. “Nettie is a sweet child and everyone seems to love her,” her father had praised his youngest living child in a letter when Kate was eleven years old. He had never used such phrases to describe Kate, but it was certainly true about Nettie. Even Kate was not immune to her charms. Kate, who knew she inspired admiration and envy rather than affection, who might properly have been jealous of a much-adored younger sister, loved Nettie too much to resent her.

  She bade her aunt and sister good-bye, and endured her aunt’s sad-eyed warning to be cautious in her choice of companions, silently fuming as she smiled and assured her that she would be wary of strangers. Two years had passed since her impropriety, two years without another such transgression, with scarcely anything worse than unsatisfactory marks in school, poor penmanship, and overdue replies to letters to give her father and aunt reason for complaint. She could only imagine how they would react if she did something truly, irreparably scandalous. The shrieks and lamentations would rival those of the Egyptians suffering the twelve plagues.

  A giggle escaped her throat before she could contain it, so she feigned a cough, which tickled her throat so uncomfortably that she began to cough in earnest. “It’s nothing,” she managed to say as Nettie and Aunt Alice peered up at her, concerned. “Just a little—” Her words broke off in another fit of coughing.

  “My dear Katie, are you quite all right?” her aunt queried, her brow furrowing. She had good reason to worry. Both Kate’s mother and Nettie’s had died of consumption, and Kate had been troubled with respiratory ailments nearly all her life.

  Kate took a breath and cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she said, smiling to reassure them. “I’ll be home soon.”

  She hurried off to the stable before her aunt could offer to feel her forehead or dose her with castor oil.

  Ohio had no official residence for its governor, but the stately Gothic residence on the corner of State and Sixth streets with its peaked roofs, towers, and numerous chimneys was mansion enough to satisfy Kate. The family had moved to the fashionable neighborhood from rented lodgings the previous December, after Father’s election to a second term convinced him that they would reside in Columbus long enough to warrant more permanent lodgings. He had delegated the task of furnishing the home to Kate, and she had delighted in traveling to Cincinnati, Philadelphia, and New York to purchase carpets and draperies, sofas and china, all to her father’s exacting standards. To be sure, he had sent her off with strict instructions and had inundated her with letters throughout her excursions, but for the most part she had been on her own, meeting with merchants, comparing the cost and quality of materials and workmanship, and making the final decisions. She had never felt so necessary and yet so free and independent. Naturally, Father fretted over the bills and warned her time and again about spending too much for too little, but when she had finished, he was well pleased with his comfortable, gracious home and the grand impression it made upon visitors.

  The groom helped her saddle Honeysuckle, her beloved bay mare, and soon she was on her way to the capitol, where her father kept his offices and the legislature met. Though it was not yet complete, the magnificent Greek Revival edifice, with its tall, white Doric columns framing each entrance and large cupola on top, shone with grandeur.

  Kate left Honeysuckle at a hitching post and swept up the front steps to the portico. Inside, clerks and citizens greeted her in passing, some of whom she knew, others she did not but who could not fail to recognize the governor’s eldest daughter. When she reached her father’s offices, his secretary welcomed her in the anteroom and promptly ushered her to his chamber. “My dear Katie,” he greeted her, rising from his chair and bending to kiss her cheek. “I expected you earlier.” From his orderly desktop he retrieved a single document, folded and sealed, and placed it into her hands. “Deliver this to the warden as quickly as you can. An innocent man has already spent too much time wrongly imprisoned.”

  “I will go with all speed,” Kate promised, smiling to hide her disappointment. She had hoped to witness her father signing the pardon, and perhaps linger for a bit of chat, but of course Father did not have time to spare, and the poor prisoner should not be kept waiting a moment longer.

  She bade him good-bye, rising on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and hurried on her way, the precious document carefully tucked inside her reticule. She and Honeysuckle had traveled scarcely two blocks from the capitol when she heard a horse’s hooves on the road behind them, swiftly closing the gap.

  Resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder, she held Honeysuckle to a steady gait as a man on horseback pulled up alongside. “Good afternoon, Miss Chase,” he greeted her. “A lovely day for a ride, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Why, Leonard Hillington,” she exclaimed. “Aren’t you supposed to be away at college?”

  “I should be, but I came home to attend to some business of my father’s.”

  His father, she knew, was a prominent businessman who also served in the legislature. She wondered what urgent matter had compelled Leonard to travel so far in the middle of the term. “I do hope all is well at home.”

  “Oh, yes. It’s just a routine matter, accounts to examine, paperwork to sign.” He held her gaze in a friendly way as they trotted along. “To be frank, I was glad to escape my studies for a while.”

  “Escape?” Kate echoed archly. “My father rather enjoyed his years at Dartmouth, and he continues to study on his own every evening without fail.”

  “Your father is a giant among men,” said Leonard. “We mere mortals need occasional time away from our books.”

  Kate smiled, her eyes on the road ahead. He sounded sincere, but he surely realized that praising her father was the most certain way to rise in her esteem. “He sets a fine example for us all.”

  “Indeed he does.” After a moment, Leonard said, “If it’s no intrusion, may I ask where you’re going? Your manner seems too purposeful for someone merely taking her exercise.”

  “I’m on my way to prison, of course.”

  He was so astonished he laughed. “To prison?”

  “That’s right.”

  “With what crime have you been charged? Whatever it is, I shall stand as a character witness in your defense.”

  Kate smiled. “How very good of you.”


  “What is it, then? Petty theft? Breaking and entering? Or breaking hearts?”

  Kate laughed and groaned together. “Oh, Leonard, really.”

  “On the other hand, perhaps breaking windows is more likely,” he mused. “I do recall a certain auburn-haired schoolgirl hurling rocks at my friends and me on the sidewalks of Columbus years ago.”

  “You deserved nothing less for the horrid insults you shouted.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. I wouldn’t dream of shouting insults at you now.”

  “Dartmouth has greatly improved you, then,” she teased. “Perhaps you should hurry back so they may polish away the rest of your rough edges.”

  His laughter rang out, and it occurred to Kate that Leonard had learned confidence as well as flirtation in his time away from Columbus. He never could have summoned up the courage to banter with her before.

  She explained the true nature of her errand as they rode along, and when they reached the prison, he offered to wait and escort her home afterward. She hesitated, dismayed by the hope in his eyes. Next he would be asking to call on her, and for permission to exchange letters with her upon his return to Dartmouth. He was kind and intelligent and handsome in a boyish way—and most important, he was unmarried—but she had no time for beaux. So she thanked him but assured him she would make it home perfectly well on her own, and sent him on his way, disappointed.

  At the front gate she dismounted, gave her name to the guard, and asked to be taken to see the warden. “I have come on an important errand from Governor Chase,” she said grandly. Looking rather startled, the guard promptly escorted her inside, taking a long, circuitous route designed, she suspected, to prevent a glimpse of the prisoners too shocking for a young lady’s gaze. At last they came to the warden’s office, but he was not alone; after welcoming her, the warden introduced her to his companions, Reverend Myers, a stout, black-haired man in a black suit and minister’s collar, and Mr. French, a sandy-haired man in a rumpled suit carrying a notepad with ink-stained fingers. A clerk, Kate decided, and turned a disarming smile upon the warden. “I believe you know the reason for my visit,” she said. “Would you please take me to Mr. Malecki?”