But his management thus far had been severely lacking. He was in over his head. He had been from the very first day he’d taken charge of Grace and Kathleen. No matter how much he wanted to make things right for them or for Rebekah, he was only making things worse.
From somewhere in the back of his mind, familiar words emerged: “For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do.”
Henry recognized the words of the Apostle Paul from his mother’s bedtime Scripture readings. When he was a child, she had reminded him often,
“You cannot be good on your own, Henry. As much as you may wish to, you cannot keep the law well enough to please God.”
“Then how does one please Him?” he had asked.
“By confessing your faults to Him, by accepting His grace... Remember, ‘there is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus...’”
No condemnation? Could that really be the case? If anyone deserved condemnation, it was he. Rebekah’s words sliced through his memory.
“You are just like my father!”
Shame turned his stomach, for Henry realized she was exactly right. He had done and said things to manipulate her for his own benefit. I am a liar. I have been arrogant, thinking my past mistakes could be hidden. I am self-righteous, seeing the flaws in others’ characters but not recognizing them in myself.
The revelation pierced him to the core. What was he to do now? He couldn’t right the damage he had done to Rebekah, and in his present state, he was likely to cause more unintentionally.
Again the Scripture verse whispered through his mind. “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus...”
He contemplated the meaning of those words. Their weight was suddenly staggering. Unable to stand on his own power, Henry bent his knees. Oh, God, how can you show such mercy to a man like me?
He recalled another verse. “For the law of the Spirit of Life hath made me free from the law of sin and death...”
The Sprit of Life, he thought, the spirit found through accepting Jesus Christ as Savior.
Going to the shelf, Henry found his Bible. He turned to the book of Romans, chapter eight. Hungrily he read the words his mother had taught him. No, he could not be good enough on his own, but God knew that and loved him, anyway. The secret to life wasn’t living by his own wits or in his own strength. It was living in the grace that Christ would provide.
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, persecution or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.
Henry sighed once more. If only he had remembered such promises. If only he had read them before he’d let his fears of prison and ruined reputation consume him. I could have saved my wife much heartache. God loves Grace and Kathleen even more than I. Would He not have provided for them without my interference in the course of justice?
For I am persuaded that neither death nor life...nor things present, nor things to come...shall be able to separate us from the love of God...
The Scripture testified boldly that nothing could make God stop loving Henry—not his fears, not his failures, not even his most deliberate sins—but inside, his soul was still churning. God may grant mercy, but Detective Smith may not. Once more he bowed his head. Help me God...help me to trust You. Help me believe that Kathleen, Grace and Rebekah will be looked after.
He spent the rest of the night reading, praying, thinking, planning. Shortly before sunrise, Henry climbed the staircase. He went to his room, shaved and changed his wrinkled clothing. James, Hannah and Sadie were beginning to stir, but the rest of the house remained quiet. Grace and Kathleen had thankfully managed a restful night. Henry wondered how Rebekah had fared. For a moment he thought of knocking on her door, attempting to speak with her, but he decided not to.
It would benefit neither of them to repeat last night’s argument, nor would it help the girls. Forgoing his wife’s room, he looked in on the nursery. Much to his surprise, he found Rebekah there. She was curled up in the bed beside Kathleen. Grace was bundled between them.
So that is why the little ones passed a silent night. Henry found himself smiling, though his expression was a sad one. Rebekah truly cared for the children. Again, he couldn’t help but think what this household might have been like if their marriage had begun on different grounds.
God, help me. I know I must move forward. Give me courage and the faith to believe You will take care of them. Shutting the door quietly, he left the house. Deciding to seek legal representation before visiting Detective Smith, he went first to see attorney William Davis.
The streets of Baltimore were still relatively quiet at this hour. Early sunlight pushed its way through gaps between buildings, bathing the streets in a rosy-gold glow. Henry would have thought the morning beautiful were it not for the heaviness of his heart and mind. Reaching the home of Mr. Davis, he rang the bell. The attorney himself answered the door.
“Why, Councilman Nash, what brings you here?”
Henry removed his hat. “Business, I’m afraid. I apologize for the earliness of the hour, but it is important. Have you a few moments to spare?”
“I do. Please, come in.”
He followed the attorney to his library. The man offered him a seat across from his desk.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Davis said as he claimed his own chair.
Henry didn’t know how to respond to that, so he simply stated a fact. “My wife and I were married several days ago.”
The older gentleman nodded pleasantly. “Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright stopped by yesterday. They told me the news. I daresay once my daughter, Emily, returns from Washington, she’ll be showering your Rebekah with gifts.” He paused to chuckle. “In fact, all the girls will. You’ll soon have a parlor full of tea cakes and chattering females.”
Probably not now, Henry couldn’t help but think.
Davis then turned serious. “Well, you said you were here on business. What may I do for you?”
“I may be in trouble with the provost marshal,” he said.
Davis offered a somewhat sarcastic smile. “You wouldn’t be the first Maryland man. Does it concern some political opinion you have expressed?”
“Well, you know my father wasn’t particularly fond of Lincoln, and he made no secret of his disdain for his policies. I also had a brother-in-law who served in the rebel army.”
Davis nodded. “And you believe you are now suspected of disloyalty because of this?”
“Yes. Because of those issues and an unfortunate series of encounters.” Confiding in the attorney, he told of his visit to the Branson Boarding House and the carriage ride with John Wilkes Booth.
Davis leaned back in his chair, listening wide-eyed. “Well,” he said after taking it all in, “you’ve certainly done nothing criminal, but given the current climate, the frenzy over the assassination, I can understand why you’re worried.”
“Detective Smith has been turning up quite a bit here lately.”
“Has he already questioned you?”
“No, but I know he suspects something. I can just tell. Do you think I should go to him and explain what happened?”
Davis thought for a moment. “Concerning Booth and Miss Branson—and through her, Lewis Paine—you have no information to give that Detective Smith doesn’t already know, but I do believe it would be best to be forthright. Unfortunately, it may lead to a bit of hounding on his part, but if he’s been turning up already, as you say, he was bound to question you at some point.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve dealt with many cases just like yours. We’ll see that this matter is ended soon enough.”
“How soon?” Hen
ry asked, remembering the councilman Smith had investigated previously. His life had been turned upside down for nearly a year.
“Probably not as soon as you’d like. Even though you would be offering a sworn statement, the detective may not be satisfied entirely with that. He may seek to hold you in custody until your story is corroborated.”
That was exactly what Henry had feared. The Baltimore authorities were notorious for letting lengthy amounts of time pass before a story was corroborated. “I am now responsible for my late sister’s children. Two young nieces. The youngest is not yet three months old.”
David nodded again thoughtfully. “I will stress that fact to the detective. I should think that Smith will take into account your reputation as a city councilman and your good standing in the community.”
Davis glanced at a small appointment book on his desk. “I was to meet with another client at nine, but I could reschedule. Detective Smith was in Annapolis yesterday, but it is my understanding that he returned to Baltimore this morning. We could do our best to resolve your issue today, if you like.”
Fear prickled Henry’s skin. He wanted resolution, yes—but would today bring relief or the beginning of something far worse? Of one thing he was certain, however. Doing nothing would solve nothing. Lord, give me courage. I believe this is the path You wish for me to take. “I’d appreciate if you would reschedule your other client, sir.”
The attorney nodded. “I’ll have my assistant deliver the message.”
“Thank you,” Henry said, “and, if you don’t mind, there is another matter...”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to make a few changes to my will.”
* * *
Rebekah woke to the sound of Grace crying. It was feeding time again, and the baby wanted to be certain Rebekah understood that. Hearing her sister’s demands, Kathleen soon stirred, as well. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then blinked at Rebekah. “Did you stay with us?” she asked.
“Yes,” she answered, though she did not tell her exactly why. “You had fallen asleep before I could kiss you last night.”
“Sadie said you and Uncle Henry would come when you could, that Grandfather had come and you had to visit him.”
“Yes,” was all Rebekah could think to say.
Kathleen slid from beneath her blankets, then made her way to the wardrobe. Opening it, she stared at her dresses.
“Let me see to your sister first. Then I’ll help you.”
“Yes’m.” The little girl plopped down on the floor to wait.
Sunlight was filtering through the shutter slats, proclaiming a beautiful spring morning. Despite her smiles to the children, Rebekah felt no joy, only trepidation. What awaited her downstairs? Would she be able to face Henry and his father, make suitable conversation with them for the sake of the girls? Dare she ask God for His assistance? Since my request is really on behalf of the children, will He answer it?
Sadie’s soft rapping was heard upon the door. “Breakfast is about ready, miss,” she announced. “Mama set two places. One for you and one for Miss Kathleen.”
“Just two?”
“Yes, miss. Delegate Nash left the house last night. James says he returned to Annapolis. And Mr. Henry’s done left for the mornin’.”
So they were both gone? Rebekah felt relieved to know her father-in-law was no longer under the roof. She wasn’t quite sure what she thought about her husband, however. Where has he gone? What is he doing, and how will it affect the children?
“You want me to take Miss Grace and get her fed?” Sadie asked.
Given her state of mind at the moment and the tremble in her hands, perhaps that was best. Besides, Kathleen needed dressing. Rebekah did, too, and she did not wish to keep Hannah and breakfast waiting.
“Thank you, Sadie. I’d appreciate that. I’ll see to the next feeding.”
“Yes’m.”
Fifteen minutes later, with laces drawn and hooks and eyes all fastened, Rebekah and Kathleen entered the dining room. Kathleen seemed not the least bit bothered by Henry’s empty chair, yet Rebekah found herself staring at it repeatedly. Was it really only yesterday that he had sat there and told her of his service in the balloon corps? How intrigued Rebekah had been. How her heart had pounded as she’d hung on his every word.
Now it squeezed with pain. Then we stepped into the study. Then he grew so angry when I spoke of Maggie Branson. Then his father said those horrible words...
She never wanted to step foot in the study again, but she did still wish to know what was happening with the trial, especially now that it could involve her own husband. When James came into the dining room a moment later to see if she had need of his services, she asked him if he would bring her the newspapers.
“Yes, miss. Straightaway.”
He returned shortly with the stack of publications. Rebekah thanked him and then began scouring the headlines.
Notable Baltimore attorney Reverdy Johnson had resigned as Mary Surratt’s defense council, and a new man had taken his place. One publication speculated that Johnson had decided he could not in good conscience defend such a woman. Another ventured he was withdrawing because he had taken a case he realized he could not win. Still another suggested he was doing it for Surratt’s benefit—that as a Maryland man, his loyalty was under suspicion by the military tribunal, as well. The new attorney, a war hero named Frederick Aiken, would ensure a more fair trial for the woman.
Rebekah did not know what to think of Reverdy Johnson or Mary Surratt or anyone else. This world is full of liars, cheats, crafty people willing to do or say anything to save their own skin, she thought. This household is proof.
A chill spread through her as she laid the paper aside. She realized Henry’s troubles with Detective Smith were not only his own. I very well could be implicated in some way or, at the least, questioned rigorously because I am his wife. Also, I worked in that hospital. I knew Maggie Branson and Lewis Paine.
She looked across the table at Kathleen. Unaware of the grave circumstances, the child was innocently sipping her milk. As she watched her, Rebekah’s anxiety grew. The newspapers were also full of stories of those connected with the trial. Anna Surratt, Mary Surratt’s daughter, was practically a prisoner in her own home while she waited to learn her mother’s fate. Even the daughter of a respected New Hampshire senator was not exempt. Lucy Hale, who had reportedly been John Wilkes Booth’s sweetheart, was now being ostracized by Washington society.
Will Kathleen and Grace suffer the same fate?
The little girl set down her now empty glass. “Can we go into the garden?” she asked hopefully. “You said yesterday there are still weeds to be pulled.”
Rebekah had no desire now to improve upon Henry’s landscape, but Kathleen had so enjoyed digging in the dirt, and she did not wish to disappoint her. Perhaps the feel of the earth between her own fingers would give Rebekah a measure of peace.
She did her best to smile. “I did say that, didn’t I? Yes. We can go out into the garden, but first, let’s go back upstairs and change into an older dress.”
“Will you take Grace outside, too?”
“Yes, of course.” She shepherded Kathleen to the foyer. They were halfway up the staircase when a knock sounded on the front door. Rebekah froze. It was still rather early. Just who was paying them a call at this hour?
“You go on upstairs,” she told Kathleen, hoping the nervousness in her voice was not apparent. “I’ll be there directly.”
The little girl climbed the rest of the steps. When she reached the upper landing, Rebekah turned. James had already opened the door. He shut it again before Rebekah reached the foyer floor.
“Letter for you, miss,” he said as he held out an envelope.
Rebekah breathed a shallow sigh. “Thank you, James. Who was that?”
“It was Mr. Davis’s man.”
Mr. Davis? William Davis, the attorney? Why would he be sending her a letter? A sick feeling washed over her.
Knowing she would wish to read her news in private, James moved on. Rebekah stared for a moment at the envelope in her hand, then slowly opened it. She hadn’t recognized the handwriting—she hadn’t seen it before—but she soon spotted the signature. She was tempted to crumple the letter and throw it in the wastebasket when she realized it was from her husband.
What more could you possibly have to say to me? she thought, but she forced herself to read. Amid Henry’s profound apologies was a promise to do right by her and the children.
I have gone to seek out Detective Smith. I will not return until I have told him everything that occurred the day John Wilkes Booth was in Baltimore. In the event that I am implicated in the conspiracy, please return the enclosed document to William Davis. He will assist you.
Rebekah looked then at the document he had included with the letter. Shock ripped the air from her lungs. Henry Nash had just signed over his home, all his worldly processions and the guardianship of his two nieces to her.
Chapter Nine
With gut-wrenching anxiety, Henry told the young corporal at the front desk that he wished to see Detective Smith.
“To what regard?” the soldier asked.
Henry swallowed hard. “John Wilkes Booth.”
The infamous name garnered an immediate response. Henry and Davis were quickly ushered into the presence of the detective. Pleasantries were short, perfunctory.
William Davis came straight to the point. “Sir, my client has some information that may be of interest to you.”
“Regarding Booth?”
“Yes.”
Henry’s ears were thudding. His collar felt tight. Detective Smith’s eyes narrowed as he looked him up and down. “Are you ill, Councilman Nash? You look out of sorts.”
Just how should he look, considering why he was here and what had happened between him and his wife?
The Reluctant Bridegroom Page 13
