Authors: Patricia Hagan
“Of course,” Rance nodded with understanding. April simply returned the woman’s icy glare. “Tomorrow would be a good day for a fitting. My partner and I have some business appointments, so my wife won’t have anything to occupy her.”
Colonel Truxmore glanced at his wife, silently warning her not to object. With a little sniff and another lift of her chin, she murmured, “I will have a carriage sent for Mrs. Taggart at one o’clock.”
“Wonderful!” The Colonel beamed. “Why don’t you make it earlier so the two of you can have lunch? Are you staying here at the hotel, Mrs. Taggart?”
Rance spoke up quickly. “Yes, we are staying here. I’m sorry, but she won’t be able to join your wife for lunch. She is entertaining the wife of another of my associates.” He turned slightly and gestured toward Trella. “Mrs. Clark will be accompanying her to the fitting. The two are inseparable,” he laughed softly.
“Tomorrow at one then,” Mrs. Truxmore nodded stiffly, then turned to her husband. “I see some people we should speak to.”
They said good night and walked away, and as soon as they were out of hearing range, April cried, “I have never met anyone so unpleasant in my entire life.”
“Wonderful!” Rance beamed. “That means I no longer hold that position.”
Edward and Trella laughed, and even April had a difficult time keeping a straight face.
“I think we should dance to celebrate our good fortune.” He held out his arms to her as the orchestra began to play a lilting waltz. “We move together so well, my dear. It’s as though we were made for each other.”
He led her to the center of the floor, and April was aware of everyone watching in admiration as they began to glide in time to the music. Yes, she thought, a bit wistfully, it was a shame there had to be such animosity between them. They made a striking couple. They danced well together. And, she thought as shivers of warmth moved up and down her spine at his nearness, they did seem made for each other. She could remember the touch of his lips, the feel of his seeking hands, and a flush went through her as she remembered much more than that.
She was aware of the envious eyes of the women. Rance was quite handsome. He exuded strength, manliness, and charm. Why did there have to be such contention between them?
But, she reminded herself, it was not of her doing. He had interfered in her life, taken her by force that first time, made her beg.
He
had caused her resentment.
Their eyes met, held, and she looked away as he smiled knowingly. Damn him! He couldn’t know what I’m thinking, she raged silently. He couldn’t!
But, strangely, she knew that he did indeed know what she was thinking, and a good deal more besides.
Chapter Eighteen
Rain slashed against the windows. Thunder rolled in the distance and lightning split the black heavens. An icy chill permeated the room, despite the roaring fire in the hearth.
“A perfect night for a seance,” Trella offered as she stood before the mirror rubbing rouge into her cheeks.
April sat in a chair near the fire, staring down at the black bombazine dress she was wearing. A mourning dress, Rance had said it was befitting attire for a medium. “I don’t think any of this is going to work,” she murmured worriedly. “The whole idea is foolish.”
Trella gave an unladylike snort. “You just don’t have any faith in Rance, that’s all.
I
happen to know what he’s got planned. You just do your part, and everything will turn out just fine,” she added accusingly.
April leaned back and closed her eyes. The only satisfaction she had derived thus far from the whole scheme was seeing the angry reaction on Mrs. Truxmore’s face when she walked into her sewing room to hear Lizzie Keckley exulting over the fact that April was a medium.
“A…a
what
?” the arrogant woman had cried.
Lizzie had repeated her astonishing discovery while April remained silent. Mrs. Truxmore then opened and closed her mouth several times before exclaiming, “Well, I do not believe in such nonsense, and I will not have it discussed in this house.”
“I believe in it,” Lizzie said firmly. “A lot of people do. Including Mrs. Lincoln.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of the weird goings-on at our White House,” she said tartly, eyes narrowing in condemnation. “I happen to know that you take part in those affairs, Lizzie, but while you are in my house, you will honor my wishes. I do not wish to have such deviltry discussed here.”
She turned to April. “Is it true? What she said? Do you profess to talk with the dead?”
“Of course,” April regarded her coolly. “I have done so many times. I am pleased to hear that there are so many people in Washington who also believe.”
The woman placed her hands on her hips as her face turned red. “I would never have allowed my husband to talk me into having you here, had I known this dreadful thing. Lizzie! How much longer will you be with the fitting? I prefer to have this over with as quickly as possible.”
Lizzie had finished without delay, but not before she made April promise that she would conduct a seance for Mrs. Lincoln.
“It would be an honor,” April had told her. “I have had strong vibrations within since arriving in Washington. The other day my husband and I passed the White House in our carriage, and I was overwhelmed by a feeling that told me someone was trying to communicate with me from beyond. Since I’ve heard of the death of Mrs. Lincoln’s son, I know it was he who was trying to speak to his mother through me.”
“Praise the Lord,” Lizzie had cried, rolling her large eyes skywards and raising her arms. “It’s a sign. I know it is. When I tell Mrs. Lincoln, she’s going to have to see you. I just know it.”
Mrs. Truxmore did not even bid her good-bye, and this caused April no distress. As soon as they were in the carriage, moving away from the house, Trella squealed with delight. “It’s going to work out just like Rance said it would!” And April merely nodded, feeling dreadful. She still considered it a cruel scheme.
There was a soft knock on the door.
“April, we’re ready,” Edward called softly. She got to her feet, adjusting the black veil she wore over her face and she and Trella stepped into the hallway. Absently, April realized how much she hated the wallpaper pattern—thousands and thousands of four-leaf clovers. She felt smothered in them, felt as though she were lying facedown in a never ending shamrock field. A nagging pain had begun in the base of her skull and was beginning to press against her temples.
“Drink this.” She glanced up from her reverie to see that Rance stood in the open doorway of his room and held a snifter of brandy. “You look as though you need it,” he said sympathetically.
Gratefully, she gulped it down. He went inside the room and returned with the bottle. He refilled her glass and she drank again. The pain lessened almost immediately, and a blessed relaxation began to course through her.
“April, this could be a very important evening to the Confederacy. Think of it in that light.”
“I try to, but I still feel terrible, preying on that poor woman’s grief.”
“You aren’t doing it for money,” he pointed out. “Think of the people who do. You told me yourself that this Lizzie Keckley was astonished when you said you never charge for your seances.”
April laughed shortly. “My seances, indeed. I’m sure everyone will see through me, despite all your coaching.” She gave him a puzzled glance. “How did you come to know so much about seances, anyway? How do you know you’ve coached me properly?”
Trella and Edward had gone on ahead. Rance closed the door to his room, locked it, then took her arm. They began walking down the hall. “April, I’ll be honest with you,” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “I’ve had this planned for some time. It was no spur-of-the-moment thing. I did research. I asked questions. I listened. If you follow my instructions, your act will be quite believable.”
“You aren’t doing this just to ‘prowl about’ the White House,” she said accusingly as they began to descend the stairs. “I think you have other motives.”
“You’re a smart girl, April,” he beamed approvingly. “Actually, it’s been my plan all along to be completely accepted in this city. What better way than making the President’s wife happy? It could mean friendship for you with her, and the confidence of President Lincoln for me. Then I’ll be in a good position to trade with the Union army.”
She bristled. “There’s something else that doesn’t make sense—your wanting to sell horses to the Yankees. I thought you wanted to supply the Confederacy. All of a sudden we move North and you become a traitor, and—” He squeezed her arm so tightly that she winced with pain, and he ground out the warning: “Don’t let me hear you say such a thing again, April. I’m no traitor to the South.”
“Then why do you sell the Yankees horses?” she demanded. “Since we left Alabama, I haven’t known you to deal with the Confederacy once.”
“I told you I don’t want to hear it.”
“You’re hurting my arm,” she jerked against his grasp.
“Maybe I’m trying to squeeze some sense into you. I’ll do more than that if you don’t shut up and stop asking questions about things that don’t concern you. I don’t have to confide my every move to you.”
“It does concern me if you’re betraying the South and using me to help you do it.”
They were halfway down the stairs. Edward and Trella were staring upward, eyes wide as they realized what April was saying so boldly. Rance turned to grip her shoulders, shaking her so roughly that her teeth clattered. “April, damn you, don’t make me hurt you!” he whispered harshly, his lips so close she could feel his breath upon her face. “I don’t want anyone overhearing you. Now if you don’t shut up, we’ll just go back upstairs, and I’ll give you a sound lesson in obedience.”
Tears of humiliation and fury sprang to her eyes. She lifted the veil to wipe them away with the back of her hands. He had reduced her to tears once again, and she hated him. “Dear God, why do you torture me by forcing me to stay with you?” Her voice cracked and shook with emotion. “Let me go, Rance, please. I can’t tolerate this life. I’ve tried…I have. But I can’t stand being around you any longer.”
He was silent for several moments as she cried, shoulders heaving. Finally, he asked quietly, “Has it really been that terrible, April? Are you really so miserable? I haven’t forced myself on you, and I’ve felt I was doing you a favor, looking after you. We both know what’s waiting for you if you go back to Montgomery. Has it really been so bad, these last few months?”
She nodded, staring at him intently through the veil. “Yes. I’d rather go home and try to work things out there. Maybe the sheriff will help me, I don’t know. If you won’t take me there, then just let me go. Let me find my own way back, and I’ll get help from someone, anyone. Oh, Rance,” she gestured pleadingly as his hands fell away from her shoulders. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to me? Being so far from my home? Wondering how my father is? If he’s even still alive?”
He glanced away, back up the stairway, gazing into space. Finally, with a deep sigh, he faced her once again.
“All right, April. Cooperate with me tonight, and tomorrow I promise that you will be set free. I’ll even give you the money to get you back to Alabama, and I’ll make arrangements for you to get there.”
For a moment, she could only stand there and stare at him, not believing her ears. Then she burst into tears once more. This time they were tears of joy. “Oh, Rance, thank you! Thank you! Dear God, you don’t know what this means to me.”
“We’re going to be late,” he said abruptly, taking her arm once more and moving on down the stairs.
April felt like singing. He would keep his word. Tomorrow…tomorrow…over and over again she sang the precious word silently, ebullient for the first time in longer than she could remember. She was going home!
The raw dark night was lit only by streetlights and an occasional zigzag of white lightning stabbing the black sky. The rain had turned to sleet, and the air seemed to become colder with each turn of the carriage wheels.
But April could not help being warmed by the sight of the White House, with all its impressive beauty. Even if it was the home of the Union President, there was still a stature about it, and she yielded up her respect with a silent apology to her homeland.
Rance descended from the carriage first, resplendent in a dark red waistcoat, the lapels heavily embroidered in gray satin. His trousers were black, matching his spit-polished boots. His dark hair curled slightly round his face, which had taken on a somber expression. Edward, too, was elegantly dressed. Trella faced the White House with sparkling eyes. She looked quite elegant in a dark gray dress, chosen by Rance for its conservative appearance. Still, it looked glamorous beside April’s drab black bombazine.
A Negro in a red velvet coat and black satin knee-length trousers appeared from the gate to lead their horses and carriage away. They moved as quickly as possible through the sleet, hurrying up the stairs, where the door opened instantly.
A silver-haired Negro in austere black velvet bade them enter. He led them into a plush parlor, filled with heavy, ornate furniture of brocades, velvets, and leathers. April stared about, enthralled by the magnificent silver and crystal pieces on display, the oil paintings of past presidents which hung on the high-ceilinged walls. “Magnificent,” she breathed. “Simply magnificent.”