“At this second appearing to take oath of the presidential office, there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first.” The clear words washed across them and held Matthew’s rapt attention. “Then a statement somewhat in detail of a course to be pursued seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years—during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation—little that is new could be presented.”
Matthew stilled. This man, who seemed in every way humble and unassuming, spoke with a great power that Matthew realized he envied. Lincoln continued to speak with fervor of the pain of the war and how none had wanted it, and yet they were all guilty of letting the war come.
He blamed them all. Not just the South.
Then Lincoln spoke on the issue of slavery, and surprisingly, Matthew found his heart stirred by the passion that lit the president’s words.
He glanced to Annabelle, whose eyes glistened, and then further around to see several other rapt faces full of compassion. Had he missed something vital?
“Both read from the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other.”
Matthew swallowed hard. Was it not true? Had they not asked the Almighty to aid them in slaying soldiers who were once their fellow countrymen? Had he not prayed that God would see the enemy bathed in blood and dead upon the earth? Guilt crashed into him.
“It may seem strange that any man should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing his bread from the sweat of other men’s faces.”
Matthew’s heart quickened.
“But, let us judge not, lest we be judged.”
O’Malley swore under his breath, but Matthew could barely hear him over the pounding of blood in his ears. What was this war to a God who loved all—slave as much as free? North as much as South?
“The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. ‘Woe unto the world because of offenses; for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh.’ ”
The president spoke fervently, the light around him brightening the crowd and his stirring words intermittently interrupted with the spattering of applause. The anticipation swelled to bursting, and the president lifted his hand.
“With malice toward none…with charity for all… with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right—let us strive on to finish the work we are in! To bind up the nation’s wounds… to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan… to do all that may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations!”
Cheers erupted around them. Annabelle waved her handkerchief fiercely, a small cry even jumping from her lips. The people pressed forward as if to get closer to the man who had delivered to them the most stirring speech Matthew had ever witnessed.
O’Malley caught his eye and gave a solemn nod. “Do not worry so, my friend. Soon, he will get what he deserves.”
Matthew turned back to look at the exalted face of the man who towered over the crowd and tried to ignore the heavy weight that settled in his gut like a boulder.
“Lincoln attends a review on the 7th. We have it all arranged now, and nothing can fail.”
Surratt Boarding House
Washington
March 5th, 1865
Annabelle lay awake in the darkness and waited for the sun to warm the window of her attic room. Yesterday had been a whirlwind of information and activity. She’d been so caught up in all the emotions of the president’s inauguration and the flurry of activity that she’d been exhausted upon their return and had gone to bed last night without even taking the evening meal.
It would be a little while before Peggy awoke, and she finally had a few moments to mull over Captain Daniels and his shocking confession. How truthful had he been with her? She rolled over onto her back and drew the quilt up underneath her chin.
George Daniels was in prison. He had no idea Matthew intended to match them together. Annabelle stifled a groan. And, the worst of it? George was not even the man her father had arranged for her to court!
More and more, she was sure that had been Matthew. She was to court the youngest brother, the one five years her senior.
Five. Not three.
She played the conversations over in her mind. Yes. The first time she had asked, he’d seemed surprised she had said George was the younger brother. He’d even grown strangely uncomfortable about it.
The next time they’d spoken on it, she’d intended to have her misgiving proved. He had not actually said George was three years younger, only that there were three years separating their births. That led her to only one conclusion.
He knew she was to be matched to the youngest Daniels brother, and preferred to shift her onto his brother. She chewed her lip. She couldn’t confront him on the matter. What a humiliation to point out that she was supposed to be matched with him, only to have his private rejection aired between them! No, better he not know she was aware of the switch. Something in her ached, but she stomped out the ember of regret before it could burst into flame. She would not want a man who did not want her. Besides, she was only pursuing this union to save her home, wasn’t she?
Peggy groaned and stretched, and Annabelle noticed the light had dawned and was streaming through the window. She could sleep through a sunrise, but Peggy never did. In a few more seconds, Peggy sat up and saw Annabelle watching her.
“Mornin’, Miss Belle. You’s up early.”
“Must be because I went to bed with the sun.”
Peggy got up and quickly dressed, finishing her morning ritual by winding a red scarf around her head. She tied on her apron and smoothed it down. “I’s right sorry, Miss Belle,” she said softly.
“Whatever for?”
“I tried to see if I could get some chocolate to make you a pie, but that lady ain’t gonna give me none.”
Annabelle swung her feet off the bed and cringed when her toes touched the cold floor. “I don’t need a pie, Peggy.”
Peggy put her hands on her hips. “I’ve made you that pie on your birthday every year since you was five.”
Annabelle smiled. She’d nearly forgotten she was twenty today. But, even in the throes of war and the chaos of the house being used as a hospital, Peggy had marked the day of her birth each year with a chocolate pie. How she’d managed it remained her own secret.
She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Peggy’s shoulders. “Do not fret over it. The fact that you keep track of the days means the most. There is much more to worry with now than marking my age.”
Peggy shook her head but did not argue. She simply began gathering Annabelle’s garments, all of which were freshly laundered. Peggy plaited her hair, twisted it into a simple bun at the nape of her neck, and secured it with pins.
Thinking to seek out an early breakfast or perhaps some coffee, Annabelle descended the stairs and heard hushed voices coming from the front room. She paused and listened but could not make out the words. She really should announce her presence, but heavens, these people were up to something! This might be her opportunity to find out.
She placed her feet slowly and inched silently down the stairs. A soft tinkling sound indicated someone stirred sugar into a cup. Annabelle pressed herself up against the wall and slinked down it until she was as near to the opening leading to the next room as she dared. The inviting scent of coffee drifted to her nostrils, and her stomach responded with a low growl.
Horrified, she pressed the palm of her hand into it and willed it to silence.
“If we do not do something soon, it will be too late,” someone said.
O’Malley. Annabelle chewed her lip and tried to breathe as shallowly as she could.
“Yeah, but how are you gonna do it? We’ve been trying,
but he’s always surrounded.”
That one was Harry. Annabelle’s brows gathered. Who were they talking about?
“It could have been over for good yesterday, you know.”
“Yeah? And how’s that? He was in the middle of thousands of people,” Harry grumbled.
O’Malley sighed. Annabelle wished she could angle herself so she could see their faces, but that would be too risky.
“That he did. But, I ask you, who stood above him? With a perfect angle?”
Harry was quiet a moment. “That actor fellow?”
“Indeed!”
“He wanted to try to snatch him there?”
Snatch him?
“He says he had the opportunity to kill him, if he’d wanted.”
Annabelle’s heart pounded. Murder! She had suspected they were spies, and they were here in Washington to carry out some plan—why else would fervent Southerners go to such lengths to reach the Union Capital?—but murder? She’d never dreamed!
“I don’t like that fella, O’Malley. I don’t think he’s stable.”
“Watch your tongue, man!” O’Malley snapped. “He has accomplished more for the cause than you have. Without him, we wouldn’t have someone close enough to get the information we need.”
“But, he’s talkin’ of murder,” Harry insisted.
At least one of them has some sense!
“It won’t come to that. All we have to do is carry out the plan.”
Annabelle let out the whoosh of breath that had lodged in her lungs. Oh, heavens. These men were planning something dangerous. She should find help and….
She realized they’d stopped talking. Had they heard her? Her heart pounded furiously. She stepped a little farther from the door. Could she make it up the steps without being seen?
“It is all arranged now. We won’t fail. Come, man, we have gotten this far.”
Relief flooded her. O’Malley was talking again. She eased back into her position, keeping her eyes alert, should anyone else appear. She didn’t know what she would do if she were discovered listening in on some nefarious plan.
Annabelle’s heart dropped. What was it Lieutenant Monroe had said? That she must get the message to one of them. It was important that the plan be carried out….
No! Had Monroe been part of this scheme? Had delivering his message not only labeled her as a Union spy but somehow put her in the middle of all of this?
The pieces began to fall into place. Matthew chasing her through the woods. Matthew hunting her down and coming to Rosswood. Matthew lying about her coming to Washington to meet his brother.
Whatever had been in that message, it had something to do with these men and their plot. She had gotten caught up in it. The questions they had asked regarding who she was and what soldiers she’d cared for… it all made sense now. They were keeping her close!
Had Matthew known about her true identity all along? Had they tracked her since she’d first intercepted their spy plans? Or were they murder plans?
She ground her thoughts to a halt. Listen, woman! she chided herself. She’d been too busy with her own musings to finish eavesdropping.
“Word came this very morning with the dawn,” O’Malley said. “He’ll be going to the Soldiers’ Home on the seventh without escort. We’ll intercept him along the way. Then we take the route to Richmond.”
Annabelle chewed her lip. It had to be someone important. An official, perhaps? An officer? She needed more information. How would she go to the authorities with such vague accusations? Would they believe her if she did, or would they, too, accuse her of being a spy and lock her away?
Heavy footsteps sounded from the back of the house. Annabelle’s heart thudded. Come on! Who is it?
“We are soon to make history, my friend!” O’Malley said.
“The South will sing our praises!” Harry replied.
The footsteps thudded closer. She would have to move before….
“And Lincoln will find his due in Richmond,” O’Malley growled.
Annabelle dashed to the stairs, leaping up them two at a time and then whirling around as if she were on her way downstairs just as Matthew Daniels stepped into the narrow room. He immediately looked up at her.
“Good morning, Miss Ross!” he said a little too loudly, his gaze cutting to the front room.
Scoundrel!
She forced a serene smile. “Good morning, Captain Daniels.”
Matthew came to stand at the bottom of the stairs, and Annabelle stopped her descent two steps up. A good vantage, since she didn’t have to tilt her head back nearly as far to study his face. Accusations and scathing demands for answers crowded her mouth, but she bit them back. She could not let on that she knew their plans.
“Did you sleep well?”
She dipped her chin. “Quite. Thank you. I feel I am adequately rested to return home now.”
Matthew shifted his weight. “Well, that wouldn’t be wise, would it? Seeing as how the situation with your grandfather has not changed.”
She clamped her hands together in front of her to keep them from shaking. They would not let her go. Besides, these men were going to kidnap the president! They were a band of fools! Dangerous, deadly fools.
“Then we are returning to your family plantation instead?”
“Yes, of course.”
Liar.
“We will just be here a day or so more to rest after such a long trip.”
“Why did we come here at all?” The question leapt from her lips before she could stop it.
Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. Annabelle forced her gaze to stay on him and not to wander to the other room. The men inside remained silent. Were they even still in there? She didn’t know if there was another way out of the room that didn’t require they pass back into the main entry.
“As I said, I wished to keep you safe.”
“Yes, so you said. But what you did not say is why you came here to begin with, if your brother was never here.”
Hush! You will give yourself away!
Annabelle ignored the inner voice vying for her attention. She had to know what he would say.
He held her gaze, his golden brown eyes boring into hers. “I’m here to see if I can find out which prison holds George. And, once I find it, I will do whatever I must to get him out.”
Annabelle studied him. He seemed sincere. How could it be that his mouth was full of deception? Unless he thought that Lincoln would release his brother in exchange for freedom? Was he truly that foolish? That desperate?
Desperate men were dangerous. She took a step backward and nearly fell on her skirts. Matthew stepped up to grab her, but she hiked the skirt and snatched it out from under her feet. She took another step backward, avoiding the hand he held out.
Rejection skittered across his face for only a second before he smoothed it away.
“If you will excuse me, I think I will return upstairs for a moment before we gather for breakfast.”
“Of course.” He inclined his head and asked nothing of her reasons.
Why would he? He wanted her out of the way. Annabelle turned and ascended the steps with as much calm as she could muster. When she reached the top, she dashed to the door and slipped inside. As she leaned against the latched door, her pounding heart birthed rapid breaths in her lungs. What was she to do?
“Miss Belle! What’s wrong?”
Annabelle’s eyes flew open, and she stared at Peggy, who had dropped the undergarments she’d been folding.
“Captain Daniels. I don’t think he ever intended to see me matched to his brother.”
Peggy grabbed her shoulders. “What do you mean?”
Annabelle blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. What to tell Peggy? The truth? If she did, would Peggy stop the plan already forming in her mind?
“Peggy, I think they are spies.”
Peggy’s dark brows drew low. “We been thinkin’ that since the start.”
“Yes, but I’m af
raid they are involved in something more dangerous than secretly relating army movements. Remember that message, the one I got off the dead soldier we buried at home?”
“Yeah. The one with the funny writin’.”
“Yes. Whatever it said, it was important. I think they have kept me close because of it.”
Peggy stepped away and began to pace the room. “But, that makes no sense. Even if it was, what are the odds that Captain Daniels would be one of them and show up at Rosswood? The Daniels family is the ones your daddy had wanted to try for a match with. He didn’t make that up.”
Annabelle scowled. “I know. I don’t fully understand it, either. But, it doesn’t matter why. If George is a prisoner of war and Matthew is involved in a spy ring, we don’t need to be here.”
“Well, I reckon you’s right about that. But where do we go?”
“Home, I suppose. Where else?”
“We are gonna travel all the way back to Mississippi whilst there’s a war still goin’ on?” Peggy threw up her hands. “It was bad enough gettin’ up here with them men and they weapons. Ain’t no way a Southern lady and an old slave woman is gonna make it back to Mississippi on they own.”
Peggy was right. What were they going to do? “We have to get out of here. I don’t want to be accused of being a part of these people’s plans!”
But she was going to try to stop them.
“Come on,” Annabelle said. “Let’s go out while they are at breakfast and see if we can find a stagecoach or something for safe passage.” And someone who could stop this terrible plan.
Peggy nodded. “All right. But how you gonna pay for that?”
Annabelle drew a steadying breath, then crossed the room and pulled the carpet bag up from where it sat at the foot of the bed. She reached inside and found the small pouch from the inner pocket sewed into the liner.
“With this.” She held up her mother’s necklace, its pendent catching the morning light and bursting into sparkles.
“No! You ain’t tradin’ your momma’s diamond for a stagecoach.”
The Liberator Series Box Set: Christian Historical Civil War Novels Page 24
