Free Mrs. Lincoln's Rival by Jennifer Chiaverini Page B

off with a sketchbook and pencils to draw a bird’s nest she had found nestled in the crook of a tree, Kate and her father and the Parsonses talked politics. While Mr. Parsons would have preferred to vote for Father in November, he and his wife found Mr. Lincoln a satisfactory and even appealing alternative, but reports of increasing rancor between North and South troubled them deeply. “Mr. Lincoln must win,” Mr. Parsons said, “and yet, if he does, I cannot imagine that the South will not respond with violence.”
    “
When
Mr. Lincoln wins,” Father replied, with decisive emphasis, “the slave powers will discover that their influence in Washington City has diminished precipitously. They will have no choice but to abandon slavery—immediately, as I would have it, or gradually and with compensation for their financial losses, as Mr. Lincoln seems more inclined to do.”
    “There is another choice,” Mr. Parsons reminded him. “War.”
    Father shook his head. “The South would have to be a conglomeration of fools to start a war they have no chance of winning. They lack the resources, the men, and the will to go to war. Generations of slaveholding have rendered them soft and self-indulgent. They preen and polish their swords and threaten duels, but they will not go to war.”
    “Then let us not even speak of it,” urged Mrs. Parsons, shaking her head so that the chestnut-brown curls framing her face bounced lightly. “It is too dreadful a subject to contemplate on such a fine autumn evening, with so many delightful events awaiting us.”
    The gentlemen nodded politely and agreed, as did Kate, although she happily would have discussed politics all evening and well into the night. Some women considered a keen interest in politics unbecoming in a lady, but thankfully, Father had no such prejudices.
    The rain resumed overnight and continued throughout the next day, which Father devoted to meeting with acquaintances and potential allies from the realms of business and politics, not only to support Mr. Lincoln’s candidacy but also to prepare for his return to the Senate. Kate knew that he had been right to insist that they come. The city hummed with excitement and possibility, and as she made her own round of calls escorted by Mrs. Parsons, she made sure to court old acquaintances as well as to arrange for introductions to the wives and daughters of gentlemen who might have occasion to help her father someday. She and her father were a formidable team, she thought, even when they toiled separately.
    Sunday morning dawned bright and promising, the downpours and oppressively sultry air of the previous two days at last giving way to the cool, clear breezes of autumn. The heavy rains had wet down the streets sufficiently to keep down the dust, and yet not enough to make them impassible rivers of mud, so after breakfast Mrs. Parsons took Kate and Nettie out driving to view the preparations for the next day’s celebration.
    Numerous military regiments that would march in the grand parade had bivouacked at Camp Perry on the county fairgrounds, where their brilliant regalia, shining brass, and neat rows of white tents lent a thrilling martial air to the scene. There Mrs. Parsons and the Chase sisters left the carriage, lifted their skirts to pick their way across the soft, damp grass, and joined the throng of admiring onlookers lining the parade grounds as the soldiers marched and drilled in preparation for the grand procession. When a cavalry regiment passed swiftly by, hooves flashing and manes tossing and banners flying, Kate was rendered breathless from excitement.
    As the cavalry regiment circled and passed again, Kate’s gaze flew to the young, dark-haired officer in the lead. “Who is he?” she heard herself ask. He sat his horse as naturally as if he had been in the saddle all his life, and despite his youth, his bearing was one of a man accustomed to command.
    “That’s William Sprague, the governor of Rhode