Junie didn’t even say, “Hmph!” But she did note that she now kept an ever-watchful eye on them. The trip, for Laurel, was wonderful in many ways. She had a lot of time to think and during that time she learned to accept Holt’s friendship and didn’t ask for or expect more, even though she desired more.
Her immediate passion for him had subsided and they spent hours talking together. She and Junie talked to him in great detail about their exile that no longer seemed as painful to them. Junie told him what Laurel was like as a young child and he always appeared amused. Holt held their attention with stories of Washington and Laurel thought of their trip as a vacation. She now considered herself a seasoned traveler and she was as happy as she could be under the circumstances and happier than she had been in a long time.
By the time they crossed the bridge into Washington, wind-driven torrential rains whipped against the carriage as they were rocked and jostled along the deserted cobblestone streets of Georgetown. The weather for Washington in November this day was somewhat similar to South Carolina’s, and while Laurel and Junie were accustomed to damp humidity, the blustery cold chilled them to the bone.
Junie murmured strange words to a strange god and cringed with each flash of lightning, ignoring Laurel’s constant reassurances that they would be at Holt’s mother’s home shortly.
After the carriage made the slow climb up the hill leading away from the Potomac River, they turned onto Prospect Street and halted. The three-story brick Federal town house stood out from the others as light poured from every window while the other houses were darkened and families had already settled in for a quiet night. But Holt had wired ahead and everything appeared ready for their arrival.
As soon as the carriage halted, the front doors opened and Laurel waved to Holt’s family who had gathered in the hallway, waiting for them to enter the house.
The coachman opened the door, lowered the steps, and helped Junie inside while Holt hurried to assist Laurel.
Upon entering the house, Laurel dropped the fur-lined hood of the cape. Mary Flanagan’s mouth formed a silent O of admiration. Laurel’s face was wet with rain but her smile brightened the room and Holt’s family greeted her warmly.
Laurel and Junie were introduced to Holt’s brother Patrick and his wife, Virginia, to his sister Catherine and her fiancé Raymond Quinn. Then, Mrs. Flanagan took Holt by the hand and led him into the drawing room.
Holt walked over to the sofa and lifted the sleeping Jacqueline into his arms.
His mother placed a hand on his arm, and said, “She tried hard to stay awake, and I explained that the weather was responsible for making you late.”
Holt lifted Jacqueline’s face to his lips and kissed her cheek lightly. Jacqueline awoke and with a sleepy grin cried, “Daddy!” Her thin arms went around his neck and squeezed him tight. “Grandma said you were bringing home a pretty lady. Where is she? Did she come?”
Holt turned toward the doorway and caught Laurel blushing. “Jacqueline, I’d like you to meet Miss Bray.”
The moment Holt put her down, Jacqueline ran toward Laurel with open arms. Laurel reached out and caught her in an embrace.
“Are you going to marry my daddy?”
“Jacqueline!” Holt”s family reprimanded in unison.
Laurel was too embarrassed and overwhelmed to look at Holt. But when she looked at his daughter, she couldn’t resist the green-eyed, redheaded child. “No. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, Jacqueline.”
“I’m sorry, too. I’ve been looking for someone pretty like you for my daddy, I want to have a new mommy.”
The words stung, but Laurel quickly recovered. “Why would you need a new mommy? You have your grandmother and Aunt Catherine to look after you, and I know your Uncle Patrick and Aunt Virginia love you too. They must all spoil you.”
“But I like you already and I think you’d make a wonderful mommy.”
“Thank you, Jacqueline. I’d be proud to have a daughter as sweet as you.”
Laurel wanted to scream. Why didn’t someone rescue her? This beautiful child was breaking her heart. Then she looked up and caught Holt staring, his face now ashen. Laurel stood and took Jacqueline’s hand and walked toward the sofa.
“Come and sit by me, Miss Bray. We’re going to have a party and grandma said I could stay up late because this is a special occasion.”
Laurel laughed and shook her head. Then she looked at Junie who was doing the same and she knew from the look on her face that Jacqueline reminded her of Laurel as a young girl running through the house at Mossland.
After Junie was given a tray laden with food, she was escorted downstairs into the servants’ quarters by the butler, and she told Laurel she was happy to be able to eat a warm supper in front of a fireplace and soon be asleep in a comfortable bed.
When the family finished their late supper, they returned to the drawing room and Jacqueline seated herself next to Laurel again. Each time Laurel moved, Jacqueline edged a little closer, crowding her toward the end of the sofa.
“Jacqueline,” Holt said laughingly, “please give Laurel some room.”
Laurel placed her arm around Jacqueline and drew her close. “She’s fine, Holt. I don’t mind.” She smiled at Jacqueline’s lovely face and knew immediately what had drawn Holt to Monique, even without ever meeting her. Jacqueline was tall for her age and thin, with porcelain-like skin, and her huge green eyes with flecks of gold and her flaming red hair were captivating.
As the evening wore on, Laurel felt her body struggling to give way to sleep, but she enjoyed Holt’s family and fought off a few yawns. Holt’s mother seemed tireless and Laurel was afraid there was a chance they would be up all night.
Mary Flanagan was stately, with a narrow frame and remained constantly busy as she tended to everyone’s needs. She laughed easily and the age lines around her eyes made them twinkle. Her gray hair was pulled tight in a chignon, and she wore long dangling black onyx and diamond earrings that bobbled with her quick movements. The pride and admiration she had for her family was reflected in her smile.
Soon, Jacqueline fell asleep with her head on Laurel’s lap, and every time Laurel looked down at her, she wanted to lie down and join her. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she worried that she would soon be fast asleep on the couch.
Fortunately, Patrick and Virginia stood to leave. “I’m sorry we have to leave this festive occasion, but our day begins rather early with three young children at home.”
Catherine’s fiancé followed shortly afterward and Holt carried Jacqueline to bed. When he came back downstairs, he said, “I know you’re tired, Laurel, after all of the traveling. Please sleep in as late as you want in the morning.”
“But...”
“I’ll go on to the Capitol first thing and start searching through the record files and I’ll return at lunchtime to bring you up to date on how the search is progressing.”
Stunned, her brow creased, she looked at him and asked, “You’re going without me?”
“There’s really no need for you to exhaust yourself.”
“There is a need. I’ve been waiting for over four years. Now that I have some information I’m not going to rest until the mystery of my father’s disappearance is solved. If you don’t want to take me with you, I’ll hire a coach, or I’ll walk and meet you later.”
Holt looked at his mother and scowled, but she smirked as she bid them goodnight and quietly left him alone in the room with Laurel.
Sighing, he conceded, “All right, Laurel. I didn’t mean to make you frantic. Someone will wake you about seven. I’m too tired to argue the point,” and without another word, he took Laurel’s arm and escorted her to her room.
After she closed her door, Laurel decided she was too weary to spend even a moment to reflect upon Holt’s apparent agitated state, simply because she intended to go with him in the morning. She heard a quiet tap and when she turned, Mrs. Flanagan opened the door and peeked her head around the corner.
> “I like the way you handled yourself with my son. You have every right to go with him. He always likes to make plans without consulting others, but he means well. Goodnight, my dear.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Flanagan,” she said with a satisfied grin.
****
The following morning, Holt handed Laurel into the one horse carriage he chose to drive himself. His manner was polite but reserved, and she concluded that she was being introduced to another facet of his personality—besides taking control, he also didn’t particularly like having the plans he made changed. She tightened her lips and hid her expression of pleasure.
As they drove in silence toward Constitution Avenue, Laurel stole glances at Holt from the corner of her eye, waiting for some sign to begin a conversation. He was obviously trying not to show his annoyance, but every time she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed the muscles in his jaw contract and she’d change her mind.
With an air of dignity, she shifted her body until her back was to him and gripping the side, to keep from falling out of the gig, she moved forward on her seat. There was too much to think about and even more to see to allow him to ruin her mood.
Even though she could appreciate why he wanted her to remain behind while he went into the city, she was more certain he would be successful finding the information that would lead them to her father. And she intended to be there when he did. She wasn’t going to sit at his mother’s house and pace the floor all day waiting for him to come home. The suspense would have driven her insane.
Her overwhelming excitement of being in the city became infectious until finally, Holt spoke. “I realize how selfish I’ve been depriving you of the sightseeing pleasure,” he said, as he slowed the horse’s pace. He pointed out important federal buildings and homes of persons of special interest to her, including the previous home of General Robert E. Lee that sat on the hilltop across the river in Virginia, overlooking the city.
There were buildings Laurel had only read about in Harper’s: Willards Hotel; the White House; the odd looking structure they were constructing in honor of George Washington; The Smithsonian; the building that housed the art museum that had been a boarding house for Union Officers during the war; and the Capitol.
Laurel viewed the city with the passion of a blind person who had miraculously gained sight after years of darkness. When she finally turned toward Holt to tell him how grateful she was for the tour, she caught him struggling not to smile.
With her upper arm, she shouldered him, practically knocking him out of the vehicle. Laughing, she asked, “You’re not still annoyed with me, are you?”
Holt put his arm around her and drew her close. “How could I be? I was wrong—you had every right to come with me. Besides I wouldn’t have missed taking you sightseeing for anything.”
The muscles in Laurel’s stomach relaxed, and she noted that he wasn’t one who readily carried a grudge for very long, which pleased her. Every day she discovered something new about him and she felt lighthearted.
He stirred such an enormous mixture of emotions in her that made her insides nervous, her heart pump wildly at times, and her lungs filled until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. These sensations gave her pure pleasure. Such delightful joy, she was positive everyone who looked at her knew her most private thoughts.
Whenever she caught him staring back, he brought a smile to her lips and filled her mind with amorous thoughts. She imagined what she’d feel if she ran her fingers over his face and touched his skin. She wanted to memorize every feature. She was well aware that soon she’d never see him again and she needed these memories to last forever because she never wanted to experience the agony of what life would be without him.
Holt coughed and brought her out of her deep thoughts and she tried to look away from him so he couldn’t read what was on her mind. Her heart began to ache for longing for him and yet he was seated next to her. She moved closer to him and the moment her leg touched his, she felt his muscles tighten. He knew! She now realized why he didn’t want her to accompany him to the Capitol. He knew she loved him. The anxiety and anticipation of what might happen kept her silent for the remainder of the ride and kept her thoughts private, but they still stirred passions within her.
Although the rain had stopped during the night, the wind continued to gust, quickly drying the deep-rutted streets. Laurel had never seen that much mud. Cows and goats roamed freely on the grounds of the Mall, chewing on the grass.
She shook her head in dismay. She had always envisioned the Capitol surrounded by magnificent manicured lawns and formal gardens, like the southern plantations, but instead the area appeared to be in a construction mode.
And she imagined that thousands of soldiers and supply wagons trudging through the town for four years hadn’t helped.
When they arrived at the Capitol, Holt escorted Laurel up the steps into the classic structure, and she couldn’t help feeling like a grand lady. He led her down a narrow spiral stairway into the basement of the building and paused on the steps to show her the bloodstains and bullet holes that were scars from the War of 1812.
The basement was dark and cool and poorly lit, and she ran her hands down her arms to stop the shiver that reminded her of the war that had recently ended, especially when Holt showed her the catafalque and bier where President Lincoln’s coffin had rested.
And the moment Laurel saw the rows of cabinets holding records of every soldier, both Union and Confederate, she realized that they might have to spend days down there, and thought maybe she was hasty in her demand to tag along. She closed her eyes and leaned against Holt. “Where do we begin? This is going to take forever.”
Holt rested his chin on top of her head and chuckled. “No it won’t, I promise. I’m sending for reinforcements. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
“No! You’re not going to leave me down here alone, are you?”
“You’ll be safe. Honest,” he said, reassuring her, “I’m cognizant that you still suffer from war memories and carry fear with you from the ordeal. But, I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”
True to his word Holt returned within minutes, followed by several clerks who were familiar with the files.
“We’ll never get through all of these papers,” Laurel sighed.
“We don’t have to go through them all.”
“We don’t?”
“No. Remember, Major Sullivan told us when and where he was imprisoned. We only have to look through the reports from the Delaware prison. When are you going to start trusting me?” he laughed.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been on my own for too long. I was a young girl the last time I was able to depend on someone else to look after me.”
Holt squeezed her hand and led her to a seat. “Let’s get started.”
Laurel sat at a long table with Holt and the three young male clerks, feeling a little relieved that they didn’t have to search through all those drawers.
But her faint smile quickly disappeared when reams of paper and huge ledgers were dumped in the middle of the table…
Chapter Eleven
Washington, D.C.
Once the files from the State of Delaware were located among the documents, and the year of interest separated, the search for Laurel’s father’s name or General Sullivan’s began in earnest.
Attempting to decipher the penmanship of different writers was a challenge. Some of the papers were soiled, wrinkled or even smeared with ink, and Holt made certain everyone took their time in order not to miss seeing either of those names.
The tedious search tested Laurel’s patience, but her hopes were lifted when one of the clerks found the name, Brigadier General Thomas Sullivan, written in bold script on the roster of prisoners. Her father’s name was not among those admitted to the prison, but they now had a new clue. They had the date General Sullivan became a prisoner.
When they came across the records for the hospital that was located nearby the prison, they s
earched for the date of admittance immediately. There were three unknowns admitted on that particular day in August of 1861. But only one was admitted with a broken ulna and carpus of the right arm, and was also listed as being comatose. The other two men had suffered gunshot wounds.
“What do you think, Holt?”
Helping her up from her chair, he said, “There’s no doubt, Laurel. This has to be your father. Is he still there? Who knows? What happened to him after that? How long did he remain there, and where did they send him if he was released, providing he survived?” he asked, frowning and moving his head to the side. “Finding the answers will take a lot longer than I had hoped. But this is a start.”
Laurel took the paper with the information she had written down, off the table, and followed Holt out of the basement of the Capitol, leaving the clerks to return the files they had used.
“Where are we going now?”
“I am going to leave you in the Rotunda to look at the paintings and tour the building, while I check in with the War Department. I have a few personal things I need to take care of, and then we will be free for the day.”
One of the clerks escorted Laurel around and gave her a grand tour of the Capitol. She was fascinated with the history of the building and the changes that became necessary during the war. Since Congress was not in session when the war began, the War Department had taken over the newly enlarged area of the Capitol in order to house the Northern Army.
Committee rooms in the basement were furnished with ovens lined with firebricks and flour was brought in from the city mills to make bread for the soldiers. Eventually the Rotunda, halls and chambers housed over fifteen hundred cots for the sick and wounded from the Second Manassas and Antietam battlefields. Scaffolding filled part of the Rotunda for the construction of the dome, and the original oil paintings in that room were still covered with canvas shields for protection.
Songs the Soldiers Sang Page 13
