A March to Remember

by Anna Loan-Wilsey

  The detective stepped aside and let the uniformed officers, pushing Claude Morris, handcuffed, in front of them, through the door. After years of loyal service, this was what Morris was reduced to. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  As soon as Whittmeyer followed his men down the hall, Walter said, “I must insist this matter be brought to the appropriate authorities.”

  “And if the senator is guilty, as Hattie thinks, it will be,” Sir Arthur said. “Now if you would all join me?” He indicated Senator Smith’s study.

  “What is it now?” The senator’s face showed a fatigue that hadn’t been there a few minutes before. “Morris is gone, and I’d like to be left alone, if you all don’t mind.”

  “Show him, Hattie,” Sir Arthur said. I held out the vest. “Is this yours, Smith?” The senator snatched it from my hand. He threw it into the fire.

  “But it was yours, wasn’t it?” Sir Arthur said.

  “Yes, it was,” Mildred Smith said.

  “It was trash and nothing more,” her husband mumbled.

  I couldn’t stay silent anymore. “I found buttons on the ground next to the carp pond after the carriage, your carriage, crashed, Senator. Those buttons came from that vest. It was you I saw rushing away that morning. You left that girl to die.”

  “It was an accident. The horse bolted, and I lost control.”

  “But why did you run away?” I asked.

  “I panicked. I couldn’t have my name associated with her.”

  “She bragged about you. She claimed you promised to make her respectable. You could’ve saved her, but instead you left her to die.”

  “Meriwether?” Mildred Smith said. “Is this true?”

  “She was a whore.”

  A chill ran down my spine, and not because of the senator’s vulgarity. How many times had I compared my fate to that of girls like Annie? Who could believe any life was worth less than another’s?

  “You said if he admitted to it, you would tell the appropriate authorities,” Walter said, reminding Sir Arthur of his promise.

  “Yes,” Sir Arthur said, shaking his head. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Smith, but you freely admitted your guilt.”

  “You’re not going to tell the police, surely?” The senator furrowed his brow in anger. “You understand, Sir Arthur. I have my constituents to consider, my committees, my colleagues. I have much work left to do before I retire. I can’t risk tainting my name for the sake of a strumpet. Morris’s mistake will be difficult enough to endure.”

  “Please, Sir Arthur,” Mrs. Smith said. “Don’t tell the police. What Meriwether did was wrong, but he doesn’t deserve to go to jail.”

  How could his wife defend him? He admitted not only breaking his wedding vows and visiting a girl like Annie for “certain entertainments,” but being indirectly the cause of the girl’s death.

  “I won’t go to the police,” Sir Arthur said. “You won’t be going to jail.”

  “Sir Arthur!” Walter exclaimed. “You can’t let him—”

  “But I do know a friend of mine who will be very interested in learning about this,” Sir Arthur said, interrupting Walter.

  “How could you?” Mrs. Smith said, before bursting into tears and fleeing the room, Spencer clutched in her arms. Was she referring to Sir Arthur’s threat to tell the journalist or her husband’s despicable actions? I truly had no idea.

  “You’re going to tell that snake Harper that I was the one with the dead harlot that morning?” Senator Smith said, aghast.

  Sir Arthur nodded somberly. “Then your constituents and your colleagues can decide for themselves if you did wrong.”

  CHAPTER 33

  After Sir Arthur telephoned Simeon Harper and revealed Senator Smith’s involvement in the early-morning carriage accident, he instructed me to pack my belongings. We left the Smith home within the hour, the senator locking himself in his study, and only Mrs. Smith and Spencer there to see us off. I sympathized with Mildred Smith, her fate tied to her husband’s unknown future through no fault of her own.

  “I’m sorry to have brought this upon you, Mrs. Smith. You have been nothing but a gracious and generous hostess,” Sir Arthur said, kissing the matron’s hand.

  “It is of his own doing, Sir Arthur,” she said before giving him a flash of her smile. “Do not trouble yourself about it. This too shall pass.”

  And maybe she was right.

  As we left the Smith house for the last time, an onslaught of reporters, more numerous than earlier that morning, blocked our exit while shouting questions about the arrival of the police. Sir Arthur and Walter shielded me as they pushed through the men, who were waving their notebooks in their hands and shouting my name.

  “Ask Simeon Harper,” was all Sir Arthur said as Walter helped me into our hired barouche. “That will keep them busy for some time,” he said, chuckling.

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” I asked Walter, when he didn’t climb in beside me.

  “No, but I’ll see you soon.” He tipped his hat and smiled.

  “But—”

  “The Willard hotel,” Sir Arthur told the driver, and before I could say more to Walter, the barouche was rumbling away.

  I wasn’t happy. After the events of the morning, I wanted Walter there, beside me. We hadn’t had time to properly discuss everything. Why hadn’t he accompanied us? When would I see him again? What was I going to do until then? Work, of course. I’d finished the property index Sir Arthur had requested, but I was certain Sir Arthur had plenty more in mind for me to do.

  As if to confirm my suspicions, Sir Arthur said, “There are a few manuscript pages I’d like you to finish, but you’ll have to work quickly. We won’t have much time once we get settled at the hotel.”

  “Of course.” I wanted to ask why I had to work quickly but knew better. Luckily I didn’t have to.

  “When you’re finished typing, we’re going out. And you have Dr. Grice’s permission to leave that behind,” Sir Arthur said, pointing to my sling.

  When had Walter said that? When the two men had met that morning before I arrived? What else had they discussed? Would Walter be where we were going?

  “You’ll need to wear your absolute best,” Sir Arthur said.

  I immediately pictured the new House of Worth dress Walter had bought me. That was to be my wedding dress. I hadn’t imagined I’d be wearing it so soon. I couldn’t imagine where we were going that required the loveliest dress I’d ever owned.

  Were we going to meet the President?

  * * *

  “May I ask where we are going?”

  Less than two hours later, after finishing my typing and unpacking, I stood beside Sir Arthur outside the famous hotel in my new dress. I brushed my hand down the soft silk of the skirt. It was so lovely I couldn’t keep from touching it.

  “It is a surprise, is all Mrs. Clayworth told me,” Sir Arthur said, wearing his finest evening attire. I cringed. Not another one of Sarah’s surprises. I hate surprises. “By the way, Hattie, you look lovely.”

  I was dumbfounded. Sir Arthur rarely complimented me on my work, and in all the years I’d worked for him, he’d only once commented on my appearance, and that wasn’t to compliment me.

  “Thank you,” I said, as the Clayworths’ Victoria arrived. Daniel and Sarah were inside, but Walter was missing.

  “Isn’t Walter coming?” I asked as I settled in beside Sarah.

  “He went on ahead,” she said, smiling. “What a lovely gown.” She was dressed in an exquisite sea green silk gown with lace at the neck, cuffs, and bodice.

  “Thank you.” I ran my hand down the skirt again. “Walter gave it to me.”

  “My brother has good taste,” she said, winking at me. As Wallace, the driver, coaxed the horse forward, Sarah looped her arm through mine. “Now tell me everything.” I glanced at Sir Arthur. He nodded his consent, so I told Sarah what had occurred this morning.

  After I’d finished, she said, “How despica
ble of Smith. Visiting the Apple House and then leaving that poor girl to drown. Poor Mildred. They are in for a rough ride.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much,” Daniel said. “I agree with Smith; the voters will forget all about it by Election Day.”

  Are voters so forgetful, so forgiving? Serves him right if they aren’t.

  “And Claude Morris killing Jasper Neely? I still can’t believe it,” Sarah said, as the carriage stopped. “He seems so, I don’t know, so ordinary, not at all like a killer.”

  I glanced out the window. We were parked in front of the White House. I was right. We were going to meet President Cleveland!

  “What is a killer supposed to look like?” Daniel asked as he reached for the door handle.

  “Ahhh! Like that!” Sarah screamed. She was pointing to the window. A man’s face, sun-burned and with a scruffy mustache, peered in at us.

  “Oh my God,” Daniel said, more disgusted than afraid. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “Daniel, who is he? Haven’t I seen you arguing with him before?”

  Daniel ignored his wife’s questions as he clambered out of the carriage and stormed toward the man now waiting patiently with his hat in his hand. Sir Arthur followed.

  “Who is that?” Sarah asked, not expecting an answer.

  “It’s Billy McBain,” I said.

  “You know him?” Sarah, surprised, turned back to look at me.

  “He was one of Coxey’s men. I’ve met him on several occasions. He tried to help rescue Annie Wilcox.”

  “But why was he staring into our window?” Sarah asked, as she alighted from the Victoria with Wallace’s help. To my surprise, Sir Arthur, who had been silent throughout the carriage ride, offered me his hand.

  “Because he’s my brother,” Daniel said, approaching the carriage, with Billy McBain following close behind.

  “Your brother?” Sarah exclaimed. “You never told me you had a brother!”

  “Hiya, sis,” Billy said, tipping his brown derby. It looked new.

  “We are only half brothers,” Daniel said. “He didn’t want Father’s fortune, so he went out West to find his own when we were still in our teens. Obviously a fortune wasn’t to be had.” Daniel regarded his brother’s road-worn clothes. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

  That would explain the expensive pocket watch he’d had. A going-away present perhaps?

  “And didn’t wish to see me now, apparently,” Billy said, smiling, unfazed by his brother’s repeated rejections.

  “I wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t look like a tramp—”

  “I’m wearing the best I own.” Billy’s suit was worn but a definite improvement over the ragged clothes I’d first seen him in.

  “—Or that you were known to have followed Coxey halfway across the country,” his brother continued as if Billy had never spoken.

  “Or that you were keeping company with Senator Abbott,” I added.

  “Him?” Billy said. “I thought he wanted to help Coxey, but he just wanted something Jasper promised him. I couldn’t help him. I didn’t even know what he was talking about.”

  Abbott will never get what Jasper Neely promised him, I thought. Sir Arthur will see to that.

  “What would the voters say if they knew you were my brother?” Daniel said. “I couldn’t have anyone thinking I supported Coxey or the Populists’ ideas in any way.”

  “And now?” Billy asked. “Now that the march is over? Now that General Coxey and Marshal Browne are in jail?”

  “You are welcome in our family,” Sarah said, stepping up and embracing him.

  “Thank you, Sarah,” Billy said.

  “Is that why you were at the police court?” I whispered to Daniel. “You were keeping an eye on your brother?”

  “Yes. Ever since I discovered he was in town, I’ve been watching out for him but didn’t want anyone to know, especially him. I’m truly sorry I was cross with you when you found me out.”

  “Apology accepted,” I said. Daniel smiled and turned to his brother.

  “Did you really see Doggie Miller hit a homer?” Daniel asked. Billy beamed and nodded.

  “Jealous, aren’t you?”

  “I have to ask though, Billy,” Sarah said, obviously not one bit interested in baseball. “How did you know we would be here?”

  “Your brother, Dr. Grice, invited me, after I explained who I was.”

  “And where did you see my brother?”

  “I saw him yesterday coming out of Saltztstein Jewelers.”

  “Oh, umm . . .” Sarah said, suddenly discombobulated. “Well, then, Daniel? Are you not going to welcome your brother?”

  “Yes, well, it is good to have you back.” Daniel held out his hand. The two brothers shook hands, and then Billy pulled his brother into an embrace. Daniel pushed away quickly, but smiled.

  “Let’s go in now, shall we? I believe we are expected,” Sarah said, taking her husband’s arm. “And no politics today, either of you.” She looked knowingly at her husband.

  “Of course,” Billy said, chuckling. “It’s gotten me into too much trouble already.”

  “I’d say,” his brother said.

  As the Clayworths gained the steps of the portico and headed for the door, Sir Arthur offered his arm to me. I was anxious as I took it. Would he scold me again for my foolishness? Would he speak of the work I had yet to finish because of the incident with Senator Smith and Claude Morris? Worse yet, would he simply escort me in complete silence? After several moments I’d concluded the latter, so when he spoke, I nearly jumped in surprise.

  “I would like to apologize, Hattie,” he said, quietly so only I could hear.

  I nearly stopped to gape at him in my astonishment—Sir Arthur never apologized, not to me or anyone. But what was he apologizing for? I didn’t dare hope he’d changed his mind about my engagement. But Walter thought it was a possibility, so what else could it be? My heart fluttered beneath my stays, but this was Sir Arthur after all. I’d spent countless hours in his company guarding my thoughts and feelings. He would get no inappropriate reaction from me. We continued on, as if he’d said nothing. But he wasn’t finished.

  “I was wrong to doubt your judgment, as yet again evidenced by this morning’s events. You have served me unfailingly. I have never had cause to doubt you before. That, I’m afraid, is why I insisted you reconsider your engagement. As you know, I expect to get what I want, and I do not want to lose you. So I never fathomed for a moment that I would. But you are your own woman, and Walter is a good man. I regret your leaving, you’re the best damn secretary I know, and to be honest, I’m going to miss you. But I give you my blessing and wish nothing for you but happiness.”

  It took me a moment longer than I would’ve liked to gain complete control over the emotions that were swirling throughout my body, but I did it. “Thank you, sir.”

  “And if you’d like, you having no father to do it, I would be proud to give you away.”

  “Thank you, sir. I would like that.” How I managed to say anything was beyond me, for his kindness had proven too much. Tears unbidden welled up in my eyes as we reached the vestibule.

  Sarah turned to say something to me and frowned, having noticed my tears. She glanced at Sir Arthur, who had joined Daniel and Billy, before whispering “Are you all right, Hattie?”

  “Yes,” I said, a smile spreading across my face as every obstacle to my happiness was now cleared. I looked at Sir Arthur and smiled. “He’s given us his blessing.”

  “I know.” Sarah smiled. Before I could ask her how she knew when he’d just told me, she patted my arm and said, “Shall we go in?”

  We were escorted to the Blue Room, the distinctive oval-shaped parlor, luxuriously furnished in gilded blue Empire-style chairs and settees scattered about the room, blue wallpaper adorned with silver, thick blue drapes, and a glittering six-tier chandelier. No wonder it was the traditional place for presidents to meet guests. It was enchanting. Like the last time
I was there, Mrs. Frances Cleveland, who had married the President in this room, stood near the door to greet us. Unlike the last time, the room felt intimate, warm and quiet, the only guests being our carriage party, Billy McBain, and two others. For standing between two five-foot vases filled with intertwining wisteria, honeysuckle, grapevine, Indian jasmine, and ivy, framing the window that looked out onto the South Lawn, was Walter, beaming in a new top hat, and Monsignor Thomas Sim Lee from St. Matthew’s church.

  “Why is . . . ?” It was all I could muster as Sarah led me toward Mrs. Cleveland.

  “Congratulations, my dear, and thank you,” Mrs. Cleveland said, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. “You make a most becoming bride.”

  “Bride?” Unchecked tears ran down my face. “Walter?”

  Sarah pressed a posy of blooming red roses, ranunculus, lily of the valley, and baby’s breath into my hand, as I looked again across the room at Walter. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me.

  “Surprise,” Sarah whispered.

  Maybe I’ll have to reconsider my opinion of surprises.

  “May I have the honor?” Sir Arthur said, offering his arm. I nodded.

  It was like a dream. With the scent of roses mixing with that of the wisteria, the wide smiles on everyone’s faces, the soft, fading sunlight reflecting off the gilded mirrors, I floated toward the only man I had eyes for.

  When we stopped next to Walter, the priest, Monsignor Lee, said, “Who gives this woman to this man?”

  “I do.” Sir Arthur kissed my forehead and stepped away. Tears welled again in my eyes. Walter offered his arm and I took it.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  “But how?” I looked at Monsignor Lee as he continued with the marriage service. Normally a priest would not perform a wedding outside of the church.

  “You don’t deny a special request from the First Lady,” Walter said.

  “But why would she, for me?”

  “Because she too is a member of the Washington Wives Club. I asked Sarah, and Sarah and Mildred asked her for this favor. She was touched by all your efforts in pursuing truth and justice over the past two years. Even before she knew about this morning, before she learned that you helped catch a killer in this city and found justice for a less fortunate soul, she was more than happy to oblige.”