On Secret Service by John Jakes Read Free Book Online Page B

young admired the riders, and sometimes yelled propositions. Once an old woman tending a market garden on the Rockville pike pointed at them and cried, “Shame. Shame on girls like you!”
    Which only made Margaret and Hanna laugh and gallop faster.
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    Rose’s niece Adele arrived. Addie was the wife of Mr. Douglas, the Democrat whom Lincoln had defeated in November. They chatted amiably of inconsequential things. When would a new novel by George Eliot appear? What attraction would Grover’s Theater show next? When would the Capitol dome be finished, the dreadful Washington swamps drained of their miasmic waters, the crumbling cobbles on shabby Pennsylvania Avenue replaced?
    Everyone laughed when little Rose romped through the room in her short crinolines and full Turkish pantaloons. Rose Greenhow’s daughter was seven or eight, a cheeky show-off whose behavior Margaret’s father wouldn’t have tolerated. Of course the Wild Rose herself was an exhibitionist, showing off her beauty, breeding, and influence at every opportunity.
    Rose raised her arms in a theatrical way. “Ladies and gentlemen, refreshments are served. Tea, punch, and stronger libations for those who desire them.” Senator Wilson said something to her but Rose ignored him and swept away to the dining room. Wilson tagged after her like a loyal dog. For certain men, Rose possessed a sexual attraction that was overpowering.
    Shortly, Margaret found herself in conversation with a handsome, full-bearded Army officer who introduced himself as Captain Thomas Jordan. He wore the familiar drab dress uniform: a dark blue coat with a stiff standing collar and matching trousers with no seam stripe, the whole lightened only by brass buttons, a burgundy sash, and two gold bars on each shoulder strap. Jordan had an aloof, almost wary air. He watched the room while discussing the crisis:
    â€œNow Georgia’s gone, and Louisiana. Texas must go soon. How do you feel about the upheaval, Miss Miller?”
    â€œI try not to feel anything. I have my own life and interests, as I should imagine you do. We don’t need or want Americans killing other Americans. Don’t you agree?”
    â€œOnly somewhat. My oath binds me to the commander in chief, yet I feel a contrary pull. My heart lies with my native state of Virginia. I wonder if Colonel Lee out in Texas feels that way? Perhaps we’ll know soon, I understand they’ve recalled him.” Robert E. Lee of Arlington was the nation’s foremost soldier. He had led the Marine detachment that had captured John Brown at Harpers Ferry, bringing on a trial and execution that further divided the country.
    â€œWell, I hope Mr. Lincoln has some skills or tricks that will bring about a resolution,” Margaret said. “Why does the government need that old fort in Charleston harbor anyway?”
    â€œI suppose they could survive without it, and all the other arsenals and forts as well. But to give them up willingly would be a sign of weakness. I believe we’ll fight over it.”
    â€œI hope not. If it happens, I want no part of it.”
    â€œBut if war comes, how can anyone remain neutral?”
    â€œBelieve me, Captain, I shall make every effort.”
    â€œI’m dismayed to hear you express such sentiments,” said a familiar voice. Rose swept into view, no longer the smiling hostess. “You’re an intelligent young woman, you come from Maryland—how can you possibly declare yourself unwilling to take part?”
    Little Rose slipped up behind her mother and stamped her foot. “I’ll go fight in her place. I’m the damnedest little rebel you ever saw.”
    Jordan laughed. Rose tweaked her ear. “We don’t use that sort of language in polite company, dear.” Little Rose marched away in a petulant imitation of a soldier.
    Margaret didn’t like being put down. “Isn’t it rather silly to debate the