Free Mrs. Lincoln's Dressmaker by Jennifer Chiaverini Page A

Avenue without reporters setting telegraph lines abuzz with the news, so when she and her cousin Mrs. Grimsley traveled to New York on a shopping expedition in early May, newspapermen hounded their every step. Stories of their attending the theater, inspecting carriages at a manufacturer, dining, enjoying soirees, and visiting local luminaries filled newspaper columns and invited spiteful commentary. When Elizabeth read of Mrs.Lincoln’s expenditures upon carpets, china, mantel ornaments, and other furnishings for the White House, she winced in sympathy, wishing it were possible for her patron to be more discreet. She also worried at the amount Mrs. Lincoln seemed to be spending, not only because the papers depicted her as wasteful, but also because Elizabeth could not imagine how the congressional allowance could stretch far enough to cover it all.
    But it was impossible not to be caught up in her patron’s delight when she returned to Washington, flush with excitement, eagerly anticipating the delivery of her goods. “I am determined to transform the White House into a showplace worthy of our nation,” she told Elizabeth as she led her and Mrs. Grimsley room to room, describing her purchases and where she intended to arrange them. Repairs and restoration would have to be completed first, of course, but Mrs. Lincoln planned to escape the noise and dust, as well as the heat and disease of summertime Washington, by taking Tad and Willie north as frequently as she could.
    “I’d like to take Mr. Lincoln as well,” she confided, “if only I could pry him away from his cabinet.”
    No one in Washington could forget the Confederate threat looming ever nearer. For weeks the Confederate flag had waved and snapped in the breeze above Alexandria, taunting them with the threat of invasion, which set their nerves on edge and sent prices for flour, coffee, and other groceries soaring. One morning in late May, Elizabeth woke to the tolling of firehouse bells and went down to breakfast to learn from the Lewises that shortly after dawn, ten Union regiments had quietly crossed the Potomac and had captured Alexandria—but the leader of the New York Zouaves, Colonel Elmer Ellsworth, had been shot and killed, the only casualty of the mission.
    Elizabeth’s heart sank. “Are you certain?” She had seen Colonel Ellsworth often in the White House and knew him to be a particular favorite of the president. She knew that sometime before the election, Mr. Lincoln had met the young man in Chicago and had urged him to move to Springfield to study the law. He had been part of the honor guardthat had accompanied the president-elect on the train to Washington, and after secession, Mr. Lincoln had used his influence to obtain him a good position in the military. He was only a few years older than Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln’s eldest son, Robert.
    “There’s no mistake,” Walker told her, shaking his head grimly. “His is the first blood shed on rebel soil.”
    “The first drops of many,” said Virginia quietly.
    Elizabeth’s thoughts flew to George—so near in age to the colonel, so eager to join in the fight—and then to the Lincolns. Mrs. Lincoln had liked Colonel Ellsworth nearly as much as her husband did. She would be heartbroken.
    Although she was not expected that day, Elizabeth quickly made her way through the muddy streets to the White House, determined to offer Mrs. Lincoln whatever comfort she could. At the door, a somber Mr. McManus told her that the household had plunged into mourning. “Mr. Lincoln was in his library with visitors when word came of the colonel’s death,” the elderly doorman confided. “Peter Brown says he was so overcome by emotion that he could not speak.”
    “I’d best see to the First Lady,” Elizabeth said, hurrying off.
    She found the First Lady in her boudoir, clad in a cheerful floral day dress and sitting at her dressing table, staring straight ahead at nothing. She looked up when Elizabeth