“It is beautiful,” she said. “I will cherish it always.”
The master jeweler smiled humbly. “I am pleased that you approve.” He paused. “If I may ask, dear, was it the war?”
Genuine sympathy laced his words. Though her eyes grew cloudy, Elizabeth felt compelled to share. She wanted him to know something of the wonderful man she had loved.
“Yes,” she said, “but it wasn’t the battlefield. He was a steward in the hospital and contracted pneumonia. He fell ill before we could marry.”
Mr. Horn shook his head sadly. “I am sorry to hear that. Many a poor soldier’s been cut low by that enemy.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I was a nurse at the West’s Buildings where he worked. That was how we met.”
Something sparked in the old man’s eyes. “A pearl engagement ring?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Did your young man give you a pearl engagement ring?”
Elizabeth’s heart quickened. Could it be that Jeremiah had bought the ring here? “Yes.” She quickly tugged off her glove, held out her left hand.
“Ah, yes,” he said, smiling. “That’s one of mine. I remember your sweetheart. He talked about you. He said you were the prettiest nurse, the finest woman in all of Baltimore.”
Elizabeth hungered for more details. “What else did he say?”
“Oh, he talked a blue streak. Nervous, he was. He wanted to find you the perfect ring. The poor boy looked over each of these cases, trying desperately to decide.”
She smiled, though it was now through a veil of tears. Jeremiah had stood at this very spot, poring over each and every ring, all because he loved her.
The man chuckled. “He just couldn’t choose.”
“How did he finally come to a decision?” she asked. “Did you suggest the pearl?”
“No,” Mr. Horn said. “His brother was with him. He seemed to think it would suit you.”
His brother?
“Your sweetheart gave it a bit of thought and decided he was right. I must say, he made the right decision. It does suit you.”
He made the right decision, meaning David, not Jeremiah.
Like the postponement of their wedding, her ring was a choice her beloved had not fully made on his own.
David had chosen it. Understanding that, Elizabeth did not know what to think. Was she disturbed because he had once again involved himself in his brother’s affairs? Or was it the fact that Jeremiah couldn’t make the decision without his assistance that disconcerted her?
She told herself it would not have made much difference had the jeweler suggested the ring. An excited bridegroom was bound to be a little nervous, wanting to choose what his bride would like best. But how was it David knew exactly what she would have chosen had Elizabeth the opportunity to make the selection herself?
A year spent working alongside a person is bound to yield insight, she supposed, but she couldn’t shake the thought that on the day her engagement ring was purchased, her would-be brother-in-law knew her better than her own fiancé did.
And what of now?
So much had passed between them since the funeral. David knew not only her dreams but her doubts, her past secrets, as well. He knows things about me that Jeremiah never knew. I always imagined the man who married me would know me inside and out, better than anyone else, for isn’t that the essence of love? Knowing both the good and bad of a person, choosing not only to celebrate the former, but bearing with the latter?
Sadly, she realized, perhaps for the first time, just how little her fiancé had known her, how little she knew him. I didn’t even know his middle name.
Mr. Horn was still waiting, and recognizing such, Elizabeth paid him what was due. He boxed up the memorial brooch and handed it to her.
“May God comfort you with the memory of your sweetheart,” he said.
She thanked him for his kindness and turned to go, but Jeremiah’s memory brought less comfort with each passing day.
Chapter Ten
The morning of April 6—the day of the vote—dawned crisp and clear. Elizabeth would have liked to have said she was fully focused on the monumental day, but she wasn’t. The business with her engagement ring was still gnawing at her. She knew it shouldn’t. No matter what the circumstances, the ring had been a token of Jeremiah’s love and devotion.
As for David’s part in it all, surely he was only trying to be helpful to his brother and considerate to me. I should not be troubled by the fact that he had such insight into my preferences, for I have certainly noticed his.
He was a man with a hearty appetite, but he never had more than a cup of coffee to start the day. He only sat down to eat a full meal after he had gathered all his notes. He also had a habit of crushing peppermint drops between his teeth whenever he was deep in thought, and he rubbed his whiskers bashfully whenever she paid him a compliment.
Yes, she thought. We know each other quite well.
A sudden twinge of guilt stiffened her stance in front of the looking glass. Why did it feel wrong to be so familiar with him? They were to have been family, she reminded herself, and although they may not legally be such, Jeremiah would certainly wish for her to still think of him that way.
She pinned her memorial brooch to her collar and tried to marshal her focus.
I have work to do today. The citizens of my state are about to decide whether or not to rewrite their constitution. The end of slavery may finally be near.
Determined to remember such, she put on her gloves and turned for the door. David was waiting in the foyer when she came down the staircase. For one quick moment she was tempted to bring up the ring but decided against it. Trudy was with him, and Elizabeth didn’t know exactly what she would say about the subject, anyway.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said instead.
“You’ve not. I’ve just arrived. But we had better leave quickly, for Trudy is insistent that I have breakfast.” David turned and grinned at her.
“Would you believe he refused?” her sister said. “He claims a reporter always works better on an empty stomach.”
“That’s so he will remain hungry for a good story.” As soon as the words—ones she had heard David say many times—were out of her mouth, that twinge of guilt returned. This time it was accompanied by a rush of heat to her cheeks. She felt as though she had said something she shouldn’t, especially when David looked at her and grinned.
Family, she reminded herself, but no family member had ever made her feel the way he did. When he looked at her, she felt as though she was the most beautiful, most capable woman in the world.
“I thought we would first visit the polling places, then later, city hall,” David said.
Elizabeth nodded, focusing on the business at hand. “The results will be posted there, correct?”
“As they are counted, but given that this is a statewide vote, it is going to take some time.”
“How much time?” Trudy asked.
“Two or three days, more than likely,” he said.
Trudy frowned slightly, her nose wrinkling. “It will be hard to wait that long to find out the results.”
“Imagine how the slaves are feeling,” Elizabeth said.
“Indeed,” said David. And there was that look again. Elizabeth inadvertently touched the memorial brooch, grounding her thoughts and emotions.
They bade Trudy a good morning, then started off for the polls. David walked with a quick step while chatting about the historic day. Elizabeth could clearly hear the excitement in his voice. He predicted record turnout, but upon reaching their first destination, that did not appear to be the case. Optimism waning, he immediately took to counting citizens. She noticed something equally distressing.
Federal soldiers were
stationed at the ballot boxes. Their coats new and blue with brass buttons gleaming, their stance was quite intimidating. Elizabeth observed the fear their presence provoked on the faces of her fellow citizens. She felt it herself and cringed at her own stupidity.
Fool that I am. What was I thinking?
David laid his hand over hers. “Something has frightened you,” he said. “What is it?”
The only thing more shameful than her mistake was the fact that her fear was palpable enough for him to once again notice. She gestured discreetly toward the soldiers. “I should have known they would be here.”
“I don’t understand. Why should they be of concern to you?”
“The color of my dress...”
He looked her over. “It’s silver,” he said, innocently.
“It is gray. I should not have worn it. It may cost you.”
“Nonsense. Your dress could hardly be considered an endorsement for the rebel army.”
His tone was all too casual. Clearly he did not understand the seriousness of the situation. “David, you have been seen with me. All it will take is for one soldier to assume I am a Southern sympathizer. Not only could they deny you access to cover the event, but they could arrest you, as well. They’ve arrested men on far less before.”
“Elizabeth,” he said firmly. “I appreciate your concern, but you need not worry. No one is going to brand me a traitor because of what you are wearing. No one is going to trouble you, either.”
“How can you be so certain?”
The look he gave her at that moment was enough to quell all her anxieties. “Because I won’t let them.”
* * *
The appreciation in Elizabeth’s eyes was unmistakable. David tried to ignore the effect it was having on him. The only way he managed to do so was by focusing on that memorial brooch pinned at her collar.
This day is not about me, he reminded himself. It isn’t even about her. It is about something so much more important.
He glanced about once more. The US Army’s presence was indeed strong, but David had thought nothing of it at first. The provost marshal’s office had issued a statement prior to the election insisting that troops would be in place to safeguard the polls and insure protection for the ballot boxes. Thanks to Elizabeth, he now saw the situation from a different perspective.
He suddenly wondered how many Maryland men, perhaps loyal in their own standing but with relatives or friends having chosen secession, would fail to approach the polls today because they feared the potential consequences of doing so.
“You raise a valid point,” he told her. “One indeed worth noting. The presence of the army could have a bearing on the voting results.”
“Do you think it will be this way at every venue?”
“I hope not.” He of course wanted slavery abolished, but he didn’t want to see anyone denied the right to vote because of fear. David tried his best to remain positive. “Given that this is Mount Vernon, the provost marshal’s office may have thought it prudent to station more soldiers here because of past sympathy. Let’s watch for a while. See what happens.”
They claimed a low stone wall, just opposite the ballot boxes, where they could view the entire scene. Elizabeth spread out her pencils, took off her gloves. Within a matter of minutes, she was completely absorbed in her work, sketching the faces of the voters. David noted some of the men looked confident, others hesitant. The expressions of the soldiers and those of the election judges were stone cold.
He then began interviewing those who were exiting the polls. Many men refused to talk to him. Among those who would, David discovered a near equal split. The lines were not drawn between proslavery and abolition, as he had expected. The division concerned the army. Half welcomed the boys in blue, and others, if they had the power, would have sent them marching.
“Lincoln’s lackeys,” one man was bold enough to say. “They got no business being here.”
David didn’t divulge he’d once worn blue himself. “Are you sympathetic to the South?” he asked.
“I wasn’t to begin with, but I daresay we might have been better joining them, now that those Unconditionals have gained control of this state.”
“What makes you say that?”
The man, aged sixty or so, squinted. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for Negro rights, but you mark my words, this ain’t about slavery. It’s about giving more control to Washington. You watch and see. Those Unconditionals only used this issue to get themselves elected. Now that they’re in office they’ll soon take away the rights of anyone who doesn’t think just like them. They’ve already restricted the sale of firearms.” He then eyed David suspiciously, “And they’ve shut down much of your competition.”
The man walked off but not before telling David he had voted against rewriting the state constitution and had encouraged all his friends to do the same.
Heart heavy, David walked back to where Elizabeth was seated. As his shadow fell over her, she looked up. She knew right away something was wrong.
“You are discouraged,” she said.
He knew he shouldn’t be, but it was hard. “This isn’t going to be a simple straight up or down vote to end slavery.”
“What are people saying?”
“The man I just spoke with thought slavery should be outlawed, but he didn’t vote that way because he feared a new constitution would limit the rights of others.”
A knowing look filled her face. “He worries the delegates will try to silence those who don’t think Washington should use whatever means necessary to win this war.”
“Yes.” He sat down beside her. Pulling out two peppermint drops from his pocket, he handed one to her, then popped the other into his own mouth and bit down hard.
“People are afraid,” Elizabeth said. “They are afraid because of what happened here.”
“You mean the riot on Pratt Street.”
She nodded.
At the beginning of the war the Northern papers had painted the citizens of Baltimore as bloodthirsty traitors who had deserved to be shot for what they had done to Union soldiers. Part of him understood why they had taken that stance. After all, four men from his own state had died and many more were wounded. But men from Baltimore died, as well, and adding fuel to the fire, Washington sent the same Massachusetts troops who had fired upon the civilians back as an occupying force. Any citizen who stepped out of line was immediately—and harshly—dealt with.
The soldiers were eventually replaced by regiments from other states, yet suspicion and sometimes outright disdain of Northern men still remained. Even David and his brother had felt the sting when they later arrived in town. In their blue uniforms, they were often looked upon with contempt.
“I’m not saying our citizens should have pelted those men with rocks,” Elizabeth said, “but when the Sixth Massachusetts fired their muskets, innocent people paid the price. Sam and Julia were nearly trampled to death as they ran for cover. They certainly weren’t at the station to start a riot. She and her brother Edward were only there to meet Sam’s train.”
David listened as Elizabeth continued with the account.
“A boy on a ship in the harbor was killed by a stray bullet, and another man down by the tracks was shot in cold blood just because he shook his fist at the train when the Yankees rolled out of town.”
Even now he could hear the fear in her voice. He had witnessed its effects just moments ago. The realization that she was wearing a hue that the Northern soldiers may find offensive had drained the color from her face. David had felt the tremble of her hand as she’d clutched his arm.
He knew his focus should remain on today’s assignment, but he couldn’t help himself. “Elizabeth, I have often wondered something.”
“Yes?”
“You once told Jeremiah that
your brother went to war because of what happened on Pratt Street.”
“That’s true.”
“Then how was it you came to fall in love with a Massachusetts man?”
He shouldn’t have asked, for he certainly wasn’t prepared for the answer she gave.
“It was because of you.”
“Me?” His mouth went dry, and for a moment he was certain his heart had ceased beating.
She nodded. “When the wounded began arriving in Baltimore I, like my other friends, volunteered at the hospital to make certain the Confederate soldiers would receive proper care.”
“You feared we wouldn’t treat them?”
Shame colored her cheeks. “Yes,” she admitted, “or at least that you would give them negligent care. But as I watched you, worked with you, I realized that fear was unfounded. You tended to your enemies with dignity and respect, and you were always so kind to me. You made it possible for Jeremiah to win my heart.”
David died inside. It took everything he had within him to keep his emotion hidden. So it was my very affection for her that turned her heart toward my brother. He couldn’t help but wonder how different life might have been had he only found the courage to tell her what he felt when he’d had the opportunity. Now it was too late.
Elizabeth touched her memorial brooch, blinking back tears. She had just poured out her heart to him. He knew he had to say something. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I shall take that as the dearest of compliments.”
Her tender, timid smile was like the twist of a knife, but he forced himself to be true to what he had just said. He would take her confession as a compliment, for he knew it was not Elizabeth’s intention to wound him.
* * *
After Elizabeth had finished her sketch, she and David traveled to several other locations. He had been right about the federal army’s presence. It was much stronger in Mount Vernon than in the other voting districts. Even so, voter turnout continued to be low.
David’s discouragement seemed to grow worse with each passing hour. Elizabeth’s heart ached for him. She knew he was worried about the vote and especially for little Elijah and Elisha. She was just as concerned. Wishing to do something to help him, she prayed, but beyond simply asking for help on his behalf and for the two little boys, Elizabeth didn’t know what else to say.
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