Mrs. Lincoln's Rival

by Jennifer Chiaverini

  “If you wish to tell one.”

  “I was a good student as a youth. Not brilliant like your father, but diligent and quick to learn, when I wasn’t distracted by the usual preoccupations of an active boy.” His gaze turned inward for a moment, but then he smiled at her, rueful. “My father’s ambition was that I would attend college, probably Brown, and become a lawyer or a man of business like himself, but my dream was to attend West Point and become a valiant general.”

  Kate smiled sympathetically, knowing that neither ambition had been achieved.

  “On New Year’s Eve of 1843—which was my mother’s birthday, as well as my parents’ wedding anniversary—my father completed his usual Sunday-night ritual of a hearty family dinner followed by a vigorous walk of several miles out to our farm.” His eyes were on the road ahead, but he brought his stallion close alongside Kate’s mare. “On the way home, someone attacked him, shooting him first in the arm and then cracking his head open with the stock of the gun.”

  Kate gasped. “How dreadful!”

  “The assailant flung the weapon in a ditch, where it was later found and identified as the murder weapon.”

  “Murder,” Kate breathed. Until that moment, she had hoped Mr. Sprague had survived the terrible attack.

  “My father was a good man, generous to his workers, and his mill was the largest employer in the region.” The governor’s voice was steady, as if the events had lost their power to pain him. “And yet even such a man makes enemies. He had prevailed upon the city council to deny a liquor license to a group of brothers who ran a nearby gin mill, where too many of my father’s employees spent too much of their time, rendering them too often unfit for work. One brother had been spotted skulking about one of my father’s mills, and another was proved to be the owner of the murder weapon. That brother was eventually convicted of the crime and executed.”

  “Oh, Governor Sprague.” He was close enough that she could reach out and touch his arm. “I am so terribly sorry.”

  “I was thirteen.” He fell silent for a moment. “I was permitted to remain in school for another two years, but then my uncle, who had taken over my father’s mills, pulled me out of school and put me to work in the family business.” When he turned to her and held her gaze, she was suddenly conscious of her hand lingering on his arm and quickly withdrew it. “At the time, my uncle was a United States senator, and before that he had served as the governor of Rhode Island. Did you know that?”

  “I had heard that you came from a political family,” Kate acknowledged, “but I assumed that your father was the politician.”

  “No.” He seemed amused by the thought. “So, at fifteen, I began learning the business of cotton milling and calico printing from the lowest drudgeries upward. When I wasn’t toiling in the counting rooms, I drilled with the Providence Marine Artillery Company. It wasn’t West Point, but joining the militia satisfied my martial ardor, and eventually I was promoted to colonel.”

  They had come to a secluded spot on the path, where a stand of willows trailed their long branches into the river. “Shall we walk for a while?”

  Kate nodded, unwilling to interrupt his story. He halted his horse, climbed down, and tied the reins to a tree before assisting Kate to the ground. He offered her his arm, and they strolled in the shade of the trees. “I passed thirteen years in this fashion, advancing in the business and in the militia. And then, in 1856, my uncle died of typhoid fever. With our patriarch gone, the company passed to the next generation—my elder brother, my cousin, and myself. We formed a new business called the A. & W. Sprague Company, but my brother preferred horse raising and racing to calico, and my cousin was weak-willed when it came to liquor, and so almost every responsibility fell to me.”

  “I imagine you were well prepared for the role.”

  “Indeed, yes. My uncle’s insistence that I begin at the very lowest place and work my way up made sure of that.” He turned to her and took both of her hands in his. “And that, Miss Chase, is the story of my curtailed education and thwarted ambitions.”

  “Thwarted ambitions,” Kate echoed, incredulous. “I strongly disagree. You are governor of Rhode Island, and the commander of the First Rhode Island Regiment. You didn’t attend Brown or West Point, but your achievements are all the more impressive for that, and for the other hardships you have overcome.”

  He held her gaze again, and she felt a strange, warm trembling in the pit of her stomach. “Are they, Miss Chase?” he asked, in a voice that was quiet and gently mocking. “Are you impressed?”

  “Perhaps,” she said, her voice faint. “A little. Not very much at all, now that I reconsider.”

  His eyes lit up with mirth, and she thought he might burst out laughing, but instead he cupped her cheek with his hand, and before she could think, he pressed his lips against hers, soft and warm but insistent, the silky hairs of his mustache brushing against her cheeks and mouth.

  She forgot to pull away. She was supposed to pull away, she remembered somewhat vaguely as his mouth gently explored hers, and perhaps she should slap him, or shriek, but instead she found herself melting into him, and kissing him back, until she finally had to pull away, gasping, not because she wanted to but because her head was spinning and she needed to breathe.

  “We should go back,” she managed to say, taking one hesitant step away, but he held her hands and did not let her go far. “We should, Governor. At once.”

  “We should not,” he said lightly, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. Her skin grew warm where he touched her. “We should stay here, and you should kiss me again.”

  “Governor—”

  “And you should call me William.”

  “Governor Sprague,” she said firmly, forcing strength into her voice, “we are unchaperoned. This will not do. If we are observed like this, it could ruin me, and you know it. It could destroy my father.”

  He stopped caressing her cheek and let his hand fall to his side, but his other still held hers. “Sadly, you are probably right.” He offered her his arm, and inclined his head to indicate that he meant only to escort her away from the seclusion of the willow grove. “I would not have harm of any sort come to you, Miss Chase.”

  She managed a tight smile, took his arm, and they walked back to where the picketed horses grazed. They passed no one else, but as the governor helped her back into the saddle, an older gentleman on a tired brown horse clopped slowly by and lifted his hat. The governor replied in the same fashion, and Kate nodded politely, which was more than etiquette required her to do. Had he recognized them? It would not matter if he had—they were no longer in a compromising position. But if Kate had not insisted they leave when they had—

  She took a deep, shaky breath as Governor Sprague mounted his stallion. “Shall we go?” he asked, smiling as if nothing were amiss. She managed a nod.

  They rode side by side in silence except when the governor pointed out interesting sights along the way. Kate’s thoughts were in a whirl. She had let him kiss her, and they had no understanding of any sort—it was fair to say that they hardly knew each other. What did he think of her? What stories would he spread?

  She was close to tears as they reached Fourteenth Street, but she inhaled deeply and blinked her eyes, determined to regain her composure by the time she reached home, or there would be too many questions from Nettie and perhaps even Vina and Mrs. Vaudry. She could not bear that.

  The governor accompanied her to the stables, where she left her horse in the care of the groom and the governor left his only long enough to walk her to the front door. There he thanked her for the ride and asked, “May I call on you again?”

  The question was so oddly unexpected that she had no time to think. “Yes,” she blurted, “but no more riding unless we take Nettie with us.”

  “Ah.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I suppose that would be prudent. P
erhaps we could stay here and play chess instead, while Nettie looks on from the sofa, drawing her little pictures. Or we could take a carriage ride, and the driver will be the third to our party.”

  She could not tell if he was amused or annoyed. “If that sounds too dull, you needn’t visit at all.”

  His smile deepened, and without another word, he lifted his hat to her, turned, and strolled back to the stable.

  When he was gone, Kate pressed the back of her hand to her forehead to calm her scattered thoughts, and took a slow, deep breath—and then forced a smile and waved when a neighbor lady passing by called out a greeting. Such public displays of distress would not do. She lifted her chin, assumed a serene expression for the benefit of anyone who might be watching, and went inside, feigning the lighthearted innocence she feared she could no longer claim.

  • • •

  Nearly every move Mrs. Lincoln made attracted the attention of gossips and the press—two groups that often overlapped considerably—so when she and her cousin Mrs. Grimsley embarked upon an extensive shopping expedition in New York, newspaper correspondents hounded their every step, setting telegraph lines buzzing with stories of their whereabouts and pastimes. The papers filled columns with reports of Mrs. Lincoln and her entourage attending the theater, inspecting carriages at a manufacturer, dining out, enjoying soirees, and visiting local luminaries, but with soldiers sleeping on the floor of the Senate or in encampments about the city, her frivolous activities invited spiteful commentary. When Kate read of Mrs. Lincoln’s lavish expenditures upon carpets, china, mantel ornaments, and other furnishings for the White House, she shared the newspapers’ opinion that the First Lady was indulging herself to the point of embarrassment. While it was true that Kate too had enjoyed decorating her new home, she had not spent the people’s money, nor had she been wasteful and extravagant. She could not imagine how Mrs. Lincoln could afford such luxuries on the congressional allowance of twenty thousand dollars. Either she had acquired the money through other, perhaps questionable, means, or she was plunging into debt. Either way, Kate was not alone in finding her behavior irresponsible and unbecoming her status as the First Lady of the land.

  Mrs. Lincoln’s heedless extravagance made her seem blissfully unaware of the crisis facing the nation, but no one else in Washington City could ignore the Confederate threat looming ever nearer. On the day Virginia had seceded, the secessionist proprietor of a hotel across the river in Alexandria had raised a Confederate flag high above the city, where it waved and snapped in the breeze, taunting the residents of the capital with the threat of invasion. The flag was a constant source of vexation to Mr. Lincoln too, Kate knew, for John Hay reported that he would often study it in silence through a spyglass from his office in the White House, and Colonel Ellsworth had vowed to tear it down for him at the earliest possible opportunity. The colonel hinted that a suitable occasion might not be far off, which told Kate that an invasion of Virginia, and all the dangers that implied, was imminent.

  But other officers acted sooner. On May 12, as the newly appointed commander of the Department of Annapolis, Colonel Butler led one thousand of his Massachusetts men through a driving rainstorm into Baltimore, where they occupied Monument Square and set cannon atop Federal Hill, a strategic point above the downtown and the inner harbor. As if to exact a certain measure of revenge, he allowed the Sixth Massachusetts, the regiment that had been attacked as it had passed through the city two months before, to bivouac in City Hall along with the Eighth New York. He then issued a proclamation forbidding all unofficial assembly, banning the shipment of arms to the South, and declaring that any display of Confederate flags or symbols would be regarded as giving aid and comfort to the enemy. His imposition of martial law brought order to the mutinous city and proud delight to the people of the North, but Father told Kate that Colonel Butler’s unauthorized actions had angered his superiors. They would soon bestow upon him the mixed honor of a promotion to major general and a transfer out of Maryland to Fort Monroe in Hampton, Virginia, where he could be more easily constrained.

  The day after Colonel Butler occupied Baltimore, Great Britain declared neutrality in the American conflict, inspiring triumphant joy throughout the South, for under international law, their position gave the Confederacy the right to acquire loans and buy weapons from them. Less than a week later, the Confederate Congress voted to establish their capital in Richmond, Virginia, one hundred miles south of Washington, and the day after that, North Carolina seceded from the Union.

  The ongoing disintegration of the nation heightened worry and alarm in the capital, where military regiments drilled and paraded and prepared for war. Governor Sprague’s regiment moved from its headquarters in the Patent Office to a camp on a high ridge north of the Capitol, and when he next called at the Chase residence, he cordially invited Kate and Nettie to visit his troops. The governor escorted them as they rode out on horseback to tour the encampment and meet the officers and men, who were splendidly attired in their uniforms of gray pants, dark-blue flannel shirts, scarlet blanket rolls slung over the shoulder, and black felt hats rakishly rolled up on one side. Kate and Nettie distributed delicacies from their kitchen and garden to the soldiers, thanking them for their protection—Nettie in her sweet, amusing way, Kate with a more gracious but impressive manner, judging by the men’s blushes and stammers. All the while, Kate was mindful of Governor Sprague’s presence close by her side, and she could almost feel the warmth of his mouth on hers again, until she found herself quite distracted and agitated, wishing with only the barest hint of shame that they could be alone again in the willow grove by the river.

  Afterward Kate often rode out to visit the First Rhode Island Regiment, sometimes with Nettie, sometimes alone, always bearing gifts of food or flowers or books. Although her contributions were not necessary, for Governor Sprague provided for his men’s every need, they were well appreciated, and it was soon apparent that the men regarded the special attention the Belle of Washington bestowed upon them as a particular source of pride.

  Governor Sprague never failed to escort Kate safely home again, and whenever he called on her there, or saw her at a reception or dinner or levee, he treated her with utmost respect and courtesy. While he admittedly possessed a few rough edges, which always reminded her, and probably everyone else, of the sharp distinction between his background and that of most gentlemen of the Washington elite, they somehow rendered him more endearing.

  How could she not excuse his occasional lack of polish, considering that he had lost his father to terrible violence just as he was becoming a man?

  • • •

  One morning in late May, Kate woke to the mournful tolling of firehouse bells and knew immediately that something dreadful had happened.

  When she went down to breakfast, she found Father at the table, his Bible in hand, his expression full of pain and sorrow. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her heart plummeting.

  He set his Bible aside, rose, and came to the doorway to take her hands in his. “My dear Katie,” he said tenderly. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

  “I prefer to stand,” she said, but her grip on his hands tightened. “Tell me what happened, please.”

  “A messenger came from the White House this morning with grievous news,” he began gently, as if he feared too loud a voice would shatter her. “Last night, a squadron of Union cavalry and ten Union regiments of regulars and volunteers quietly crossed the Potomac by bridge and steamboat. Some of the troops occupied Arlington Plantation, General Lee’s estate, and the hills overlooking Washington City. Other troops moved on to Arlington.”

  Kate felt her heart thudding in her chest. “Was the First Rhode Island among them?”

  “No,” he said, “but Colonel Ellsworth’s Fire Zouaves were.”

  Kate took a deep, shaky breath. The colonel had called on her the previous evening, strangely energized and hinting that his troops would hav
e a taste of war soon. He had brought her a pretty bouquet of jasmine and white roses, which she had placed in a crystal vase in the best parlor. “What happened?” she asked again, although she dreaded her father’s reply.

  “One of the transport ships, the Pawnee, arrived at Alexandria ahead of the others. Without authorization, the commander sent a lieutenant into Alexandria under a flag of truce, to warn the Confederate commander that they faced an overwhelming force, and that he had until nine o’clock to evacuate or surrender.”

  Evidently the commander had chosen one or the other rather than to defend the city, for Alexandria was so close to Washington that if the rebels had resisted, the distant sounds of battle would have woken the citizens from their sleep. “What did they do?”

  “They chose to retreat. Colonel Ellsworth’s transport had arrived by then, and not knowing about the flag of truce, it had exchanged fire with rebel guns on the shore. Before long the lieutenant reported to Colonel Ellsworth that the rebels declined to fight because the town was full of women and children. Most of the rebel troops left Alexandria by train well before the nine o’clock deadline, but about thirty-five cavalry rear guard remained behind. They were immediately taken prisoner when Colonel Ellsworth’s Zouaves and the other Union troops entered the city. While other officers captured the customs house and the railroad depot, Colonel Ellsworth set out to seize the telegraph office.”

  When he fell silent, Kate steeled herself. “Pray go on, Father.”

  “On his way there, the colonel passed the Marshall House at King and Pitt streets—you know the place, if only from a distance. It’s the hotel where that flag of the Confederacy has been flying so brashly for more than two months.”

  Kate felt faint. “Colonel Ellsworth told me once that he had promised President Lincoln to tear it down at the earliest possible opportunity. The sight of it vexed the president so.”