He nodded and laid his arm across his stomach while I slowly removed the bandages. To my relief, I found it healing well and the stitches still holding secure. “I’ll remove the stitching in a day or two,” I told him. “Everything looks good.”
“You’re coming back?” he asked, hopeful.
Smiling, I applied fresh bandages and nodded.
As I worked, I looked up and noticed a gentleman speaking to a soldier behind one of the large columns. The gentleman had his back toward me, but he looked like Mr. Cooper. Thetwo spoke in hushed tones, and the soldier glanced over his shoulder from time to time, as if he was afraid he’d be caught.
When the gentleman turned to look out at the room, I saw his side profile and realized itwasMr. Cooper. He, too, looked to see if anyone was listening to their conversation.
I lowered my face quickly, hoping he wouldn’t see me, confused by what I saw. Why would Graydon Cooper be in the Senate Chambers speaking to a soldier? And why did it look so secretive? Did these men know each other?
“Farnum,” I said as I finished bandaging his arm, “do you know that solider near the column?” I motioned to him with my head since my hands were occupied.
Farnum glanced over and squinted, then said with a scowl, “His name’s John Severs, and he’s from Kentucky. Joined up with our troops just before we got to Baltimore, claiming he wanted to support the Union. He keeps to himself, but everyone thinks he’s a Southern sympathizer. No one talks to him for fear he’s working for the enemy. I don’t know the other fellow.”
What in the world was Mr. Cooper talking to a Kentuckian about?
As I watched, the conversation came to an end, and Mr. Cooper turned to leave. My heart pounded in my ears as I faced away from him again, not wanting him to see me.
When I finally chanced a look back, he was gone.
I could hardly think of anything other than Mr. Cooper as I traveled in the carriage to the Chases’ mansion on E Street that evening with Papa. The Chases lived in a beautiful house nine blocks east of the White House. Kate, like myself, played official hostess for her father, a widower. He had tried to get the Republican nomination for president the year before, but it had gone to Abraham Lincoln and, in the process, Kate hadsnubbed Mary Lincoln. Their public rivalry continued when President Lincoln asked Mr. Chase to be the Secretary of the Treasury and Kate had moved to Washington with her father. She snubbed Mrs. Lincoln every chance she could get, and since most people did not care for Mrs. Lincoln, Kate had become Washington’s sweetheart.
But none of that mattered to me. I played my part for Papa’s sake, but that was all. Soon our lives would change drastically, and none of this social climbing would matter.
The Chase mansion was lit from top to bottom, and carriages dropped off their occupants at the front door. Papa had almost canceled, since the 7th New York Regiment had finally arrived that day, to the great relief of the city. Telegraph lines and train tracks had been restored, and he had been at the White House with the president for hours as they reestablished communication with the north.
He was in a good mood as we waited patiently for our turn to disembark. I was trying not to get nervous about seeing Mr. Cooper, but my hands were shaking, and my heart was beating an irregular rhythm. Papa looked at me closely as he stepped out of the carriage and offered me his hand.
My gown was made of layers and layers of petticoats over a wide hoop skirt. The robin’s-egg blue silk taffeta was lavishly trimmed with white satin, tulle, and lace. It was gathered at the bodice, while the skirt was pleated with a fashionable train. The color of the gown complemented my eyes perfectly, as did the blue sapphires dangling from my earlobes. My dark curls were set in a low chignon with a matching blue comb in back. I felt beautiful, and I was planning to use my feminine wiles to discover why Mr. Cooper had been at the Capitol, if necessary.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Senator Wakefield,” a familiar British voice said, causing me to look up as I maneuvered down the carriage step, holding my voluminous skirts in onehand. Despite Papa’s hold on me, I tripped—landing squarely into Mr. Cooper’s chest.
So much for my feminine wiles.
“Good evening,” Mr. Cooper said in a quiet, pleased tone.
Mortified, I righted myself and pushed away from his chest, my cheeks burning. “Pardon me.”
Both men looked surprised—though Mr. Cooper also looked amused. He was magnificent in a black tailcoat with matching waistcoat and trousers. He wore the clothing well, indicating his supreme confidence in every cut and line of his movement.
I closed my eyes briefly, wishing it had been anyone but him. But I couldn’t ignore him, so I lifted my chin and offered a smile. “Good evening, Mr. Cooper.”
His grin was mischievous, as if he’d planned the whole thing. And perhaps he had.
“Shall we go inside?” Papa asked, masking his humor.
I took his arm, grateful for his presence as I regained my composure. Mr. Cooper walked behind us, and I was sure he was chuckling to himself, though I couldn’t hear it. When I looked back at him, he grinned at me.
I faced forward again, trying to figure out what he’d been doing at the Capitol. Was he gathering information from other Southern sympathizers? Soldiers who had an inside look at what was happening in Washington?
More importantly, I wanted to know if he saw me at the Capitol today, and if he would tell Papa.
“Welcome, Margaret,” Kate Chase said as she greeted me in the foyer. She was elegance personified, with not a hair out of place. She kissed each of my cheeks, behaving as if we were long-lost friends and not merely acquaintances who moved in the same circle.
Her father stood at her side and greeted us, then said, “Kate, may I present Mr. Graydon Cooper of the War Department? Mr. Cooper, this is my daughter, Miss Kate Chase.”
“How do you do, Miss Chase?” Mr. Cooper took her hand and bowed over it.
