Anna took the towel and started drying her hair. “Well, I suppose I should apologize for getting you drowned.”
“Don’t be silly.” Nancy staggered as the ship rolled suddenly. “I came with you for my own reasons.”
“Did you ever have that talk with Robert?” Anna asked.
“No. And now I’m glad that I didn’t.” Nancy flinched at the sound of an explosion. “What was that? The boiler?”
“No. It must be Captain Herndon firing the cannon to signal for help. As I was coming back he was sending some crewmen to turn the flag upside down.”
“It may be too late.”
Anna shrugged and made her way across the pitching deck to sit down on a velvet chair. Almost instantly, her wet clothing turned the fabric from bright red to dark purple. “I don’t suppose changing into dry clothes makes any sense.”
Nancy shook her head. “I think we should strip down to near naked and go on deck.”
“What for? The deck’s awash. We could be swamped at any moment.”
“When we feel that the ship’s going down we’ll jump over the side and swim for anything that floats.”
“We’ll be sucked down with the ship.”
“Not if we can swim away far enough.”
“It’s no good, Nancy.”
“Come on, Anna. We might have a chance. Let’s take it.”
“A chance of what?”
“Surviving long enough to be rescued. This storm can’t last forever.”
“It’s managed to take this ship along with it for days. Do you really think we can swim against its pull?”
“Maybe not. But I’m not giving up until I’m dead.”
Anna stood up again. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Nancy put her arms around Anna and kissed her. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that I love you.”
Anna gave her a hug. “I think you have. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve never doubted it and I love you too.”
September 20, 1857
New York, New York
Anna and Nancy walked side by side down the gangway of the SS Empire City. “Should we kiss the ground?” Anna asked.
“You can,” Nancy replied. “But I’m going to kiss my husband.” She pointed.
Anna shaded her eyes. “How did he get here so soon?”
“Who cares?”
“Is that Quincy with him?”
“Yes.” Nancy laughed, then wiped away a tear. “Isn’t it wonderful to see them again?”
~
“A little brig from Boston, called The Marine, heard our signal cannons and came to our rescue,” Anna said.
Nancy was sitting close to Robert and holding his hand possessively. “The brig was damaged by the storm too.”
Anna nodded. “Considering its size, I don’t know how it could have survived at all. But it did and somehow managed to stay on station long enough to save us.”
“There weren’t enough lifeboats,” Nancy said. “After the women and children were aboard The Marine, the lifeboats made several more trips, but only about forty men were brought aboard before it became too dark to continue.”
“The Marine took us to Norfolk where we transferred to The Empire City for the trip home,” Anna concluded.
Quincy shook his head. “What a terrifying experience.”
Nancy looked at Anna. “Oddly enough, I was never really frightened until we were in the lifeboats. Were you?”
Anna shrugged. “I was so sure that we were going to drown that I gave up hope. When you have no hope you’re not frightened.”
“In addition to the four hundred lives lost, two million dollars worth of gold went down with The Central America,” Robert said. “The impact on Wall Street has been very bad.”
“Why would it impact Wall Street?” Anna asked. “Up until a couple of months ago, that gold was part of some nondescript rocks in California. It wasn’t real money.”
“It became real money when it was insured,” Robert replied. “The concern is that the loss will bankrupt the insurers.”
“Who cares?” Nancy said. “I’m just glad to be alive and home.”
January 25, 1858
St. James’s Palace, London, England
In step with the strains of Felix Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, Queen Victoria’s daughter, Victoria, the Princess Royal, better known as “Vicky”, glided up the aisle on the arm of her new husband, Prince Friedrich of Prussia. As she passed the bowing and curtseying aristocrats in the front pews, her eyes met briefly with those of William de Iturbide, Duke de Padilla.
Eight years ago, William de Iturbide, Duke de Padilla, had been William Van Buskirk, or, on wanted posters, Lucky Billy Van.
Using the name William de Iturbide, William had traveled to Zurich where he converted his gold to various currencies and established banking relationships in Spain, France and England. At his next stop, in Spain, William presented expensively forged documents to prove his ancestry to Agustin de Iturbide, who had held the title Constitutional Emperor of Mexico, as Agustin I, from May 1822 to March 1823. William’s command of Spanish, his regal manner and his knowledge of Spanish-Mexican history served him well, and he was soon granted the meaningless style of William de Iturbide, Duke de Padilla. From Spain, he then traveled to England where he bought a decrepit castle near Nottingham and eight hundred acres of fallow or forested land.
Although the restoration of the castle was completed last year, and all arable land was under cultivation by tenant farmers, William had been generally ignored by English peers. Until now.
May 19, 1858
Bleeding Kansas
In what may have been the last major violence in Bleeding Kansas, thirty men, led by proslavery leader Charles Hamilton, captured eleven unarmed free-state men and murdered five in what was to become known as the Marais des Cygnes Massacre. The event inspired a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier:
A BLUSH as of roses
Where rose never grew!
Great drops on the bunch-grass,
But not of the dew!
A taint in the sweet air
For wild bees to shun!
A stain that shall never
Bleach out in the sun.
Back, steed of the prairies
Sweet song-bird, fly back!
Wheel hither, bald vulture!
Gray wolf, call thy pack!
The foul human vultures
Have feasted and fled;
The wolves of the Border
Have crept from the dead.
From the hearths of their cabins,
The fields of their corn,
Unwarned and unweaponed,
The victims were torn,--
By the whirlwind of murder
Swooped up and swept on
To the low, reedy fen-lands,
The Marsh of the Swan.
With a vain plea for mercy
No stout knee was crooked;
In the mouths of the rifles
Right manly they looked.
How paled the May sunshine,
O Marais du Cygne!
On death for the strong life,
On red grass for green!
In the homes of their rearing,
Yet warm with their lives,
Ye wait the dead only,
Poor children and wives!
Put out the red forge-fire,
The smith shall not come;
Unyoke the brown oxen,
The ploughman lies dumb.
Wind slow from the Swan's Marsh,
O dreary death-train,
With pressed lips as bloodless
As lips of the slain!
Kiss down the young eyelids,
Smooth down the gray hairs;
Let tears quench the curses
That burn through your prayers.
Strong man of the prairies,
Mourn bitter and wild!
Wail, desolate woman!
Weep, fatherless child!
> But the grain of God springs up
From ashes beneath,
And the crown of his harvest
Is life out of death.
Not in vain on the dial
The shade moves along,
To point the great contrasts
Of right and of wrong:
Free homes and free altars,
Free prairie and flood,--
The reeds of the Swan's Marsh,
Whose bloom is of blood!
On the lintels of Kansas
That blood shall not dry;
Henceforth the Bad Angel
Shall harmless go by;
Henceforth to the sunset,
Unchecked on her way,
Shall Liberty follow
The march of the day.
December 24, 1858
New York, New York
Nancy stopped at the corner of Sixth Avenue and 13th Street and pointed at the store window. “Look at this.”
Anna stepped up beside her and gaped at the moving display of children playing under a gaslight-adorned Christmas tree. “Beautiful. How do they make those figures move?”
“It might use clockworks or there could be a steam engine in the basement since there are so many moving parts,” Nancy replied.
Anna stepped back to look at the name on the building. “R.H. Macy Dry Goods? Isn’t this a bit too far north for a dry goods store?”
“Macy’s isn’t an ordinary dry goods store,” Nancy replied.
“What’s so different about it?”
“Well, for one thing they offer a money back guarantee. If you’re not satisfied with the merchandise you just bring it back and they give you the full price you paid.”
“What do you care? You never even look at the prices when you buy something,” Anna said.
“I don’t care, but when I heard about it I wondered if he could stay in business refunding people’s money.”
“How long has he been in business?”
“Not very long here, but I think he has other stores. Maybe Boston. I’m not sure.”
“It seems to me that he’ll only attract customers who’ll be prone to demand their money back.”
“I think the biggest attraction is his made to measure clothing.”
“Doesn’t every dress shop offer that service?”
“Not like this. There’s a clothing factory in the store. You go in, pick a design from a book and fabric from swatches, then they take your measurements and make your dress for you in less than an hour.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You said you wanted a new dress for Christmas but didn’t have time for the fitting. Now’s your chance.”
Anna looked at the clock across the street. “Okay. Do you want to come in with me?”
Nancy took her arm. “I can’t let you wear a new Christmas dress if I’m not wearing one too, can I? Let’s go down to the 14th Street entrance. That’s where the women’s department is.”
December 25, 1858
Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey
“Are you still awake?” Robert whispered into the darkness as he gently closed the bedroom door behind him.
“Yes.” Nancy replied. “Do you have my Christmas present for me?”
“Maybe.” He sat down on the bed and pulled off his right boot. “But I have a question for you first.”
“Do you want me to light a lamp?”
“No. I can undress in the dark.”
“What’s your question?”
“Did you think that Anna was behaving strangely today?” He took off his left boot, then stood up to unbuckle his trousers.
“In what way?”
“She seemed to be forcing herself to be gay.”
“She’s lonely, Robert, and she’s trying to decide what to do with the rest of her life.”
“Oh.” He crossed the room and bumped into the dresser.
“Let me light a lamp,” Nancy said.
“No. I found it. Just let me hang up my clothes.”
“Don’t stumble over your boots on the way back.”
“I know where they are.”
“Did you know that Phillip Key asked her to marry him?”
“No. She didn’t mention it.” He crossed the room and got into bed and slipped his arm under Nancy’s neck. “What was his wife’s name? Virginia?”
“No. Ellen.” She moved closer to him. “Ellen Swann Key.”
“Why do I think her name was Virginia?”
“He was engaged to Virginia Timberlake before he married Ellen.”
“Oh, that’s right. She’s the daughter of Andrew Jackson’s Peggy Eaton.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I suppose that the son of the author of the Star Spangled Banner being married to the daughter of the cause of the Petticoat Affair was too much irony.”
“As I recall he jilted her when he met Ellen.”
“I should keep my mouth shut. I don’t remember it all that well.”
“So, what do you think about Phil Key as a brother-in-law?”
“When did his wife die?”
“Toward the end of March in fifty-five. The twentieth, I think.”
“How is it that you know the actual date?”
“Anna had a terrible attack of guilt when Ellen died.”
“Oh.”
“You knew that she and Phil were lovers, didn’t you?”
“I’d heard rumors.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
“My sister’s an adult.”
“Are you ducking my question?”
“What question?”
“About Phil and Anna.”
“I like Phillip Key but I don’t approve of him. I love Anna and I don’t approve of her. It makes answering your question difficult.”
“It probably doesn’t matter anyway. She’s said no.”
“Does she know about Key and Congressman Dan Sickles’s wife?”
“Everybody in Washington knows except Dan Sickles.”
“Is that why she said no?”
“Phil promised that he’d stop seeing Teresa and follow the straight and narrow path if Anna would marry him. I don’t think she believed him.”
“I don’t think I would either. He’s a rake.”
“He’s too handsome.”
“Glad I don’t have that problem.”
“You’ll do. Can I have my Christmas present now?”
February 27, 1859
Washington, D. C.
Phillip Key strolled casually through Lafayette Park and sat down on a bench across the street from the home of Congressman Dan Sickles. From this vantage point, he could see Teresa Sickles through her parlor window. Focusing the opera glasses that he had brought with him, he realized that she was not looking toward the window so he waved his pocket handkerchief to attract her attention.
Moments later, Congressman Sickles burst from the front door, rushed across the street and fired a derringer at Key. Key had only been able to gain his feet and to raise his hands in self-defense before Sickles fired. The bullet struck Key’s left hand but he still managed to catch Sickles and wrestle the pistol from his grip. Sickles broke free, pulled another derringer from his waistcoat and aimed it at Key. In desperation, Key threw the opera glasses at Sickles causing him to flinch as he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Key in the groin, knocking him to the ground. Finally, Sickles drew a third derringer and, standing over Key, fired a fatal shot that struck Key in the chest.
April 18, 1859
Washington, D.C.
Judge Crawford banged his gavel. “Order in the court. The bailiff will swear in the witness.”
The bailiff stepped forward with a bible. “Place your left hand on the bible and raise your right hand. Repeat after me. I, state your full name, do solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
“I, Anna Marina Van Buskirk Lagrange, do solemnly swear to tell the truth, the
whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
“The witness will be seated,” Judge Crawford pronounced.
Anna sat down and smoothed her dress.
The judge looked toward the defense table. “Mr. Stanton?”
Edwin M. Stanton got to his feet. “Mr. Graham will be questioning this witness, if it pleases the court.”
“You may proceed, Mr. Graham,” Crawford said.
John Graham got to his feet. “Thank you, your honor.” He looked at Anna. “Would you state your full legal name for the record?”
“I just did when I swore the oath.”
“Please do so again.”
“Anna Marina Van Buskirk Lagrange.”
“Is that Miss or Missis?”
“Missis.”
“You use your maiden name in your profession, is that not so, Mrs. Lagrange?”
“Sometimes,” she said.
“Why is that?”
“When he hired me, Mr. Horace Greeley of the New York Tribune thought that my maiden name was better recognized in New York.”
“You are a widow?”
“Yes.”
“And have been for many years.”
“Yes.”
“But you have remained sexually active.”
“Objection,” the prosecutor said, getting to his feet. “Irrelevant and badgering.”
“Considering the nature of this case, I’ll allow it,” the judge responded. He nodded at Anna. “The witness will answer.”
“To answer I need a definition of what the defense means by sexually active,” Anna said.
The judge nodded agreement. “Define it, Counselor, or rephrase your question.”
“Have you had sexual relations since the death of your husband?” Graham asked.
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