Shannon Farrington - The Reluctant Bridegroom

He did not use the word love, but few men she knew did. In twenty minutes’ time, Henry Nash had bestowed upon her more kindness, more liberality than her father had in all her twenty-three years. While she certainly did not love this man, she could respect him.

On that basis, she accepted his proposal.

Chapter Three

Henry could not sleep that night. His conscience would not allow it. As he stared long and hard at the ceiling, the visit with Miss Van der Geld replayed over again in his mind. He had spent more time talking with her in one hour today than in all the years he had sat across the aisle from her in church.

She was quite a combination, a mixture of timidity, presumptiveness, austerity and elegance. Her dark blue eyes and the set of her mouth reflected suspicion, but they were also capable of displaying interest and affection. He had seen the latter when she’d spoken to Kathleen. She was taken with the child at once. For that, shouldn’t I be grateful?

When his own father had learned of the proposal, he’d said he was proud. “You are finally using every advantage to further your own well-being. You won’t regret it.”

Won’t I? He already did. Henry was intrigued by his betrothed, but he was not in love with her.

Wrestling with the bedsheets, he rolled to his side. If I had any honor, I would tell her the truth. Then I’d march down to the provost marshal’s office and tell Detective Smith what I know concerning John Wilkes Booth.

But his father’s warning echoed in his ears. “This nation won’t rest until every last person connected to Lincoln’s death, no matter how trivial the role, is brought to justice.”

He remembered Van der Geld’s words, as well, the ones that had ultimately caused him to shake the man’s hand. “They will suffer for their actions... ‘Arrest them as traitors, try them as traitors, hang them as traitors!’”

Henry’s guilt consumed him. I am hiding behind an innocent young woman, using her name to protect my own. I have become the very thing I swore I’d never become. I am no longer a public servant. I am a self-serving politician, just like my father.

Kathleen’s cry pulled him from his bed. Snatching his dressing robe, Henry hurried to the child’s room. Hannah and Sadie were already there. Hannah was cradling a now whimpering Kathleen, while Sadie rocked and cooed her startled infant sister.

The young maid looked as spent as Henry felt. Going to her, he took charge of the baby.

“I’ll go warm some milk for them both,” she said.

“Thank you, Sadie.”

It took only an hour or so to settle the children back to sleep, but you’d have thought the ordeal much more lengthy for the way they slept come morning. Though it was Resurrection Sunday, and Henry had hoped to take them both to church, he decided to let the children remain abed. Sadie, still sleepy herself, volunteered to keep watch over them.

Henry wasn’t the only one operating in mind-numbing confusion that morning. Although it was supposed to be the most joyous day of the Christian calendar, the mood of the service was somber. Men whispered newspaper details of Lincoln’s murder among themselves. Even women, who typically paraded new bonnets and laces this day, remained in black.

When the preaching began, Reverend Perry did his best to remind everyone that Christ had risen and because of that, one need no longer fear the grave. It wasn’t the grave that Henry feared. It was the path leading up to it. He believed because of Christ’s sacrifice his eternity was secure, but for some reason he couldn’t quite believe that same sacrifice capable of giving him protection, or provision for his nieces, this side of Heaven.

He prayed for forgiveness, for a cleansing of guilt, yet even amid his pleas his mind kept wandering. Here I sit like a pious worshiper, while the US Army combs the countryside for John Wilkes Booth and the rest of his accomplices. Where will the investigation lead?

The members of the Branson Boarding House were still detained. Henry was certain the army was giving the house quite a going over, looking for leads to other potential suspects. He hoped they would not find the calling card he had left there.

And if they do?

Loyalists everywhere were calling for swift execution of all those implicated in the president’s assassination. Is my own future to consist of a military tribunal and a hangman’s noose?

He glanced across the aisle. His soon-to-be father-in-law sat attentively in his pew, looking very much the self-proclaimed guardian of all that was noble and right. If Henry’s indiscretion became public knowledge, would the man be willing to overlook such in his son-in-law, or would he seek justice, as well?

The service now ending, Henry stood for the closing hymn. Once more he glanced across the aisle, this time looking at Miss Van der Geld. Her black bonnet, however, hid her face from view.

When her family filed out of their pew, Theodore Van der Geld stopped to inquire of Henry and his father. Miss Van der Geld stood silently at the end of the family line.

“Are you gentlemen attending the veterans’ ceremony tomorrow?” Van der Geld asked. It was to honor those returning from the war.

“I won’t,” Harold Nash said quickly, “but my son will.”

Henry had already agreed to be the city council’s representative at the event last week, but he had the impression that even if he hadn’t been committed to going, his father would have wanted him there anyway.

It isn’t a campaign stop, he thought, but he wouldn’t argue the point here in the house of God.

Van der Geld looked pleased. “Rebekah will be there, as well,” he said.

“Is that so?” Henry replied, gauging her response. There was that suspicious look again. Was it directed at her father or him?

Has she planned to attend the ceremony, or has she been told to do so? Was she told to accept me, as well?

He did not have time to ponder the thought further. Van der Geld closed the conversation and led his family away.

The following morning, Henry’s fiancée was standing on the platform alongside her other family members while her father, Mayor Chapman and a representative from the provost marshal’s office made their respective speeches to those on hand. Henry watched her from his position in the crowd.

He had brought Kathleen and Grace with him, wanting to give Hannah and Sadie a much-needed break and hoping the fresh air would do the children some good. Grace thankfully slept in his arms. Kathleen, recognizing Miss Van der Geld, tugged on Henry’s sack coat. “The lady,” she said.

He nodded but said nothing more. As speeches honoring fallen Union soldiers continued, Miss Van der Geld herself spied the children. The somber set of her jaw melted to an attractive smile. When she was freed from her position on the platform, she and several other women circulated the crowd. They presented the veterans’ female relatives and sweethearts with fresh flowers, a token of gratitude, an acknowledgment of the sacrifices they had made while the men had been away at war.

Their paths soon crossed. Grace, now awake, wiggled fitfully in Henry’s arms. Unable to lift his hat properly, he bid Miss Van der Geld good day.

She nodded formally to him but eyed Grace with a look of fondness. Then she smiled again at Kathleen. “She is just as pretty as her big sister.”

Kathleen offered the barest hint of a smile. “Pretty flowers,” she then said, having noticed the bouquet of jonquils in Miss Van der Geld’s arms.

A look of uncertainty darkened the woman’s face for the briefest of moments as she stole a glance in her father’s direction. He was still on the platform, speaking privately with those gathered around him. Turning back to Kathleen, Miss Van der Geld’s smile returned.