Rebekah positioned herself near his desk just so, hoping he would not noticed her soiled dress. “You wished to see me, sir?”
“Indeed,” he said without turning around. “The time has come for you to wed.”
Wed? The air rushed from Rebekah’s lungs. Had she heard him correctly? If she had, then just whom was she supposed to marry? She had no suitors, at least none of whom she was aware. No young man had dared come calling for fear of facing her father.
And yet as shocking as this announcement was, deep down she had always known her father would orchestrate her marriage. He had arranged everything else in her life, and every decision he made was filtered through the lens of his own political benefit. Having become a successful state legislator, he now wanted to be governor.
Apparently he is going to hand me over to some well-connected gentleman in order to support his campaign. But whom?
Then she remembered Harold Nash’s unprecedented visit, and the smile on his face as he walked away. A sickening feeling swept over her. Oh no! Surely not!
The man was more than twice her age, and up until today, her father had despised him. Harold Nash had voted against President Lincoln, had vehemently defended slave owners’ rights all throughout last year’s constitutional convention and had worked to delay outlawing the detestable practice of slavery for months.
And to be given to such a man! Rebekah feared her knees were going to buckle.
“You will marry Henry Nash,” her father announced, turning to judge her reaction.
Henry Nash? Rebekah struggled to process this news. So I am to be handed over to the delegate’s son? While the man was closer to her age, she felt little relief at the prospect. To marry him was to become not only a wife but immediately a mother, as well. The man had recently taken charge of his two orphaned nieces. Word was their father had fallen in battle while serving the rebel army, and their mother had died in childbirth.
None of this makes any sense! Rebekah thought. Why was her father so insistent on this match? Henry Nash had strong ties to the Confederacy, and her father had once called him a self-serving coward because he had not held office in the United States Army.
“Father, I don’t understand...”
She should have known better than to question him, for the moment she did, Theodore Van der Geld stormed out from behind his desk. His eyes were wide. The veins in his neck were bulging.
“I do not expect you to understand,” he shouted. “I expect you to obey! I expect you to do your duty!”
Rebekah immediately lowered her chin, stared at the floor. She dared not raise her eyes. She knew what would happen if she did.
When he spoke again, his voice had softened slightly. It was the same tone he used when addressing a crowd of potential voters. “Your marriage to Henry Nash will take place within the next few weeks,” he said. “The ceremony will coincide quite nicely with our nation’s victory celebrations.”
The long, desperate war between the states was finally drawing to a close. The nation had been preserved, but all Rebekah could think of now was her own impending union. Terror overwhelmed her. Yes, she wished to marry someday. She also wished for children, but most important, she wished for love. How was she to love a man she barely knew?
Please don’t make me do this! I don’t want to do this! But she knew her father would not listen to her pleas, let alone grant them. He waved her away like a simple servant. “Go to your room.”
Rebekah went obediently, knowing that in his mind, the marriage had been firmly decided, and she was powerless to alter his decision. Her only hope was that Henry Nash would somehow change his mind.
* * *
“You agreed to what?” Henry’s jaw literally dropped when he heard the news. “You told Theodore Van der Geld I would marry his daughter? Why on earth would you do such a thing? Why on earth would he even suggest it?”
Harold Nash, a shrewd man at best and conniving at worst, simply smiled. “The man wants to be the next governor, and he knows he can’t win the office without our help.”
“Our help?”
“Yes, by gaining the confidence of those who supported me in the past and those who will support you in the future.”
Henry groaned. Now he saw the truth of the matter. His father wasn’t running for reelection, but that didn’t mean he was finished with his political scheming. Ever since Henry had expressed a possible interest in campaigning for his father’s seat in the state legislature, Harold Nash had taken it upon himself to become his political advisor. “So you orchestrated all of this?”
The veteran politician laughed. “Of course not. Van der Geld did, but I am smart enough to recognize an opportunity for your advancement when it is presented.”
“By mortgaging my future?”
“You want to have a say in what goes on in this state, don’t you?”
Of course Henry did, but this was not at all how he wanted to go about it. Deal making and deal breaking, flattery and false alliances had led to war. After four years of killing, peace was finally within reach. Richmond had fallen. Lee and his army had surrendered. The nation, however, had to be reconstructed carefully, and so did his own state.
Although Maryland had not declared secession, there were many in the state who had chosen to fight for the Confederacy. As a Baltimore city councilman, Henry had dealt with his share of people, both prounion and sympathetic to the South, who were hot for revenge. Loved ones had been lost, property damaged, dreams destroyed.
There is still a lot of healing to be done.
Henry had worked hard to ensure that his reputation as a councilman was that he was fair and trustworthy. He held his office honestly and kept it that way by maintaining an open, forthright dialogue with the mayor, his fellow council members and the people of his city. His yes was always a yes and his no a no. He was determined to go about matters the same way should he win the bid for state delegate.
If I decide to run for higher office, I don’t need to form an alliance to do so, especially not with my father’s chief political rival. Henry told his father so.
Harold shook his head. “You are too young to realize what is at stake here,” he said. “Too young to comprehend fully the advantages of securing such power. Theodore Van der Geld is an Unconditional and you could have considerable influence over him.”
The Unconditionals were the members of the National Union Party, and they had been a thorn in his father’s flesh since ever since they managed to gain control of the statehouse. While Henry’s father had been in favor of preserving the Union, he had not thought Washington should use any means necessary to do so.
Like his father, Henry had opposed many of the tactics employed to keep Maryland in line the past four years. He had been against the closing of newspaper presses critical of Washington, against voters being denied the right to vote simply because they were suspected of having Southern sympathy.
Henry wished to correct such wrongs, but marrying Rebekah Van der Geld and trying to use my position as his son-in-law to sweet-talk her father toward my side of the aisle is not the way to go about it. “I want no part of this,” Henry said adamantly. “I earned my seat on the city council by honesty and hard work. If I decide to run for the state legislature, I will get to Annapolis the same way.”
And it was a big if. He wasn’t so certain he even wanted to run for the state legislature, at least not now. Henry had much more pressing matters on his mind. His sister Marianne’s death had hit him hard, and now he had the task of caring for her children. Henry knew almost nothing of being a father, and that which he had witnessed from his own, he did not wish to repeat.
The older man’s face lined with disappointment. “You won’t get to the state capital by shaking hands and talking about your war record. You can’t tell all those grieving fathers that while their son
s were bleeding on the battlefield, you were floating well above it.”
Henry resented the inference. He was no coward. He had done his duty with his military service. He had served as honorably as any other veteran. While it was true he’d never made a valiant charge, his service as an aeronaut in the balloon corps, scouting the positions of the rebel army, was just as valuable—and within artillery range, just like any other man.
“You didn’t want me serving in the first place,” Henry said, “and now you think I wasn’t brave enough?”
“It isn’t a matter of what I think. It’s what the voters will think.”
Henry was just about to respond to the mocking comment when footsteps in the hall caught his attention. The door to the study suddenly burst open. In flew his four-year-old niece, Kathleen. Her face was red and tear streaked. Henry was fairly certain of the cause of her distress. Since coming into his home, she had cried repeatedly for her departed mother.
Kathleen froze upon sight of her grandfather, instantly sensing she was unwelcome. Henry went to her immediately. True, his life had been turned upside down with the arrival of her and her sister, but the last thing he wanted was for his niece to feel unwanted. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?” he asked as he bent to her level.
Kathleen’s chin quivered. “I want Mama.”
Henry’s heart broke for her. “I know you do.” He pulled her close, gently patted her back. As he did so, he could feel his father’s disapproving gaze.
Henry wasn’t certain if it was because the man thought such displays of affection were improper or if, deep down, he resented the fact that Marianne had chosen Henry to be her children’s guardian and not her own father.
Hannah—his cook, and now temporary governess—came into the room. In her arms was a tiny blanketed bundle, Kathleen’s little sister, eight-week-old baby Grace.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Henry,” Hannah said. “She got away from me while I was feeding the baby.”
“It’s all right, Hannah. Tell me, have you any spice cake left?”
“I do.”
“Then I believe this young lady would benefit from a slice.” His niece looked up at him, eyes still cloudy with tears. “Go with Hannah, pretty girl. I’ll be by directly to see that you are settled.”
Kathleen slowly took Hannah’s hand and turned from the room. Henry watched them go. He was thankful the ploy of sweets had worked. He wasn’t certain what he would have done if it hadn’t. But such measures will work for only so long.
“And there’s another reason,” his father said when the little girl had left the room.
“Another reason for what?”
“To wed Van der Geld’s daughter.”
Henry sighed. “Father, if I want help with my nieces, I’ll hire a suitable governess.”
“A governess isn’t going to get you to the statehouse.”
Henry shook his head, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not going to discuss this any further. I will speak to Van der Geld myself, tell him I want nothing to do with this.”
This time his father grinned, but Henry knew full well it was not an expression of joy. “You go right ahead, son,” the man said. “Do it your way. I’ll be here when you change your mind.”
Henry wanted to give a snappish reply, but he held his tongue. He is my father. He deserves my respect if for no other reason than that.
Leaving the study, Henry went to the kitchen. Kathleen was pale, but at least the tears had dried. Hannah had her at the table, a slice of spice cake in front of her. His cook kneaded bread dough for the evening meal.
How the woman managed, Henry was not certain. Surely she must be exhausted. He was, after all. It had taken him only forty-eight hours trying to manage glass feeding bottles and complicated rubber tubes before becoming so. To make matters worse, Grace cried incessantly and refused to take milk from the contraption.
Wise in the ways of motherhood, Hannah had abandoned the tube and metal mouthpiece for a soft rag. Grace sucked milk out of the bottle from that. It was messy and still somewhat cumbersome, but at least it worked. The goat’s milk temporarily soothed the baby’s stomach, but her heart was another matter. Hannah’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Sadie, sat at the table beside Kathleen. She was steadily rocking Grace, trying to quiet her tears.
Henry sighed. Hannah must have heard him. “Don’t you fret, Mr. Henry,” she said with an expression akin to pity. “It won’t always be this way.”
How I hope she is right. For all our sakes. “We’ll think of something,” he promised her. “I’ll find us help.”
“The good Lord will see to all our needs,” Hannah said. “We just gotta trust Him.” She punched down her dough. “You goin’ out on business today?”
“I’m afraid I must. There is a matter to attend.”
“You gonna visit folks, too?”
She meant his constituents. From time to time he called on returning veterans, local merchants and others to see how they were faring. Most citizens welcomed him, and even those who were wary of public servants usually warmed once he heard their complaints.
“Yes, but I won’t be gone long.” He cast another glance at Kathleen. She was poking her cake with her fork.
“Like I said,” Hannah replied, “don’t you fret. We’re gonna be just fine. You go on and do what you planned.”
Henry drew in a breath. How appreciative he was of the woman, of her assistance and understanding. “Thank you, Hannah.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Henry.”
Leaving the house, Henry headed off to put the matter with Theodore Van der Geld and his daughter to rest. While traveling to the stately home, he went over in his mind what he would say. Henry didn’t know whether or not Miss Van der Geld had been told of the arrangement. He certainly hoped she hadn’t.
If she had, he seriously doubted she would be heartbroken by the change of plans. Still, Henry wanted to be gentle. She may not like the idea of a union with a virtual stranger any more than I, but I am still refusing her, and no one likes to feel unwanted...
Henry knew firsthand the misery such feelings could bring. While his mother, Eleanor, had married his father for love, believing he felt the same, it soon became apparent that Harold Nash had been interested only in her social standing and family fortune. When Henry’s mother realized this, the life drained out of her. She had died on Henry’s fifteenth birthday. Marianne had been twelve.
Were it not for his interest in public service, Henry doubted he’d have much of a relationship with his father, if any. He did his best to honor the man as Scripture commanded, but he refused to be like him, especially when it came to selecting a wife.
Henry believed in love. For him, marriage was a lifelong commitment of mutual respect and affection, not an opportunity to advance one’s political career. He wasn’t going to court a woman until he was certain he was prepared to give her his heart.
Arriving at the Van der Geld house, he knocked upon the front door. An Irish maidservant answered, only to inform him that the state delegate was not home.
For a moment, Henry was tempted to ask for the daughter but decided that would be unwise. If she did know of the marriage proposal, requesting to speak with her without her father’s presence would paint him as a much too eager suitor.
And if she does not yet know, there is no reason to trouble her.
He handed the maid his calling card. Henry didn’t like leaving matters like this. Miss Van der Geld was liable to get hurt.
But there is nothing I can do for the moment.
So he left the house, determined to return at a more opportune time.
* * *
Rebekah had heard the man’s voice coming from the foyer. Terrified by the thought that Henry Nash had actually come to pay a call on her, she crept to her room and closed the door
behind her.
If I stay hidden, she told herself, I won’t have to face him.
From her sanctuary, she could no longer hear the conversation on the floor below, but she could make out the sound of Fiona shutting the door. Knowing Councilman Nash had gone, Rebekah moved to the window and watched him walk toward the street.
At least he has the decency not to insist upon seeing me while Father is out, she thought.
She tried to take comfort in that fact, but his sense of social propriety did little to quell her anxious spirit. She might not have had to face him today, but the moment was surely going to come.
Reason told her that things could be much worse. At least Councilman Nash was a churchgoing man. In fact, they attended the same church, and from what she’d observed of him there, he appeared to have a pleasant disposition.
But then so does Father when he is in public. In private it is an altogether different matter.
Her stomach began to roll. Her breath quickened. I can’t do this! I won’t do this!
It wasn’t as though she was against marriage itself. Three of Rebekah’s closest friends had been recently married. Julia Stanton, the daughter of a prominent local physician, had married her beloved Samuel Ward, a history teacher who was somewhat below her station.
Emily Davis had been raised as a supporter of states’ rights, and yet her parents had offered no arguments when she’d married Dr. Evan Mackay, the Union army surgeon she had once despised.
Elizabeth Martin had gone to work as a newspaper sketch artist after the death of her fiancé, Jeremiah Wainwright, then fell in love with his brother, David.
Rebekah’s father claimed that all three were foolish matches and her friends would soon regret their decisions. Yet she knew how happy they each were. She could see it on their faces. They basked in the glow of men who truly loved and respected them. Rebekah longed for the same.
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