Read Online Mrs. Lincoln's Rival by Jennifer Chiaverini - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Chiaverini
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instructed.
Holding the paper with trembling hands, Kate took a deep breath and said, “Uncle Edward writes, ‘Third ballot. Lincoln 231½, Seward 180, Chase 24½, rest to others. After ballot Cartter—” Her voice faltered, but she steeled herself and plunged ahead. “Cartter switched four Ohio votes to give Lincoln majority. Great enthusiasm and rush to switch votes to make unanimous. My sincere regrets.”
All eyes went to Father, who stood pale and tall and stoic in their midst. “It comes down to Ohio again,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion. “If they had been true from the outset, and remained true throughout—” He fell silent, opened his mouth again as if he would say more, but then he shook his head and slowly walked off alone. A moment later Kate heard the study door close behind him.
Tears streamed down Nettie’s fair cheeks. “It’s not fair,” she said, balling up her skirts in her fists. “It’s not right. There must be some mistake. They counted wrong.”
“Nettie,” Kate soothed, embracing her. “There is no mistake. Uncle Edward would not have gotten it wrong.”
A catch in her throat silenced her. She was close to weeping too, but she refused to break down in the foyer with all eyes upon her. Her father needed them to be strong, loyal, and reassuring as he prepared for a future far different from his expectations, and the rest of the family would follow her lead. She would grieve later, alone, where no one could see.
Later that day, as word of her father’s defeat and Mr. Lincoln’s triumph diffused through the city, a muted ceremony to honor the nominee took place. The brass bands and fireworks were canceled, but the cannon fired once at the corner of Third and State streets, and then it was over. Kate, who had hoped to attend a grand celebration at her father’s side, instead heard the thunderous salute from her father’s library, where she had set up the chessboard and invited him to play. After halfheartedly capturing a few of her pawns and losing a knight, he apologized and told her he felt a headache coming on and wanted nothing more than to lie in the quiet darkness of his bedchamber and rest his eyes.
In the days that followed, Kate stifled her indignant anger as she read how the delegates in Chicago had celebrated after making their choice—the wrong choice—and how cannons had been fired and nearly thirty thousand people had filled the streets, shouting and cheering, how the
Press
and
Tribune
buildings had been illuminated from foundation to rooftop, and how bands had played triumphant marches as Republicans paraded through the streets with fence rails on their shoulders in a nod to Mr. Lincoln’s humble origins.
“Fence rails again,” Kate muttered, shoving the papers aside in disgust. The people could have chosen as their champion a truly wise and good man, a brilliant governor, a courageous defender of the Negro, a tireless enemy of slavery, but instead they had settled for an unpolished, untried country lawyer, a one-term congressman from the wilds of Illinois—all because he told entertaining stories, could make a good speech, and wasn’t William H. Seward.
The people would realize their mistake in due course, but by then it would be too late.
• • •
Where Kate was disappointed and indignant, her father felt betrayed, bitter, and hurt. In the immediate aftermath of the convention, he could not conceal his fury at the delegates of Ohio for refusing to rally behind him unanimously. “When I reflect upon what Illinois did for Lincoln, what New York did for Seward, and what Missouri did for Bates,” he told Kate one morning as they strolled through the garden, her arm through his, “and then when I consider the actions of the Ohio delegation, I confess it wrenches my heart.”
“There is no excuse for their treachery,” Kate said hotly. “The outcome would have been entirely different had they been true.”
Although Father was tormented by
Holding the paper with trembling hands, Kate took a deep breath and said, “Uncle Edward writes, ‘Third ballot. Lincoln 231½, Seward 180, Chase 24½, rest to others. After ballot Cartter—” Her voice faltered, but she steeled herself and plunged ahead. “Cartter switched four Ohio votes to give Lincoln majority. Great enthusiasm and rush to switch votes to make unanimous. My sincere regrets.”
All eyes went to Father, who stood pale and tall and stoic in their midst. “It comes down to Ohio again,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion. “If they had been true from the outset, and remained true throughout—” He fell silent, opened his mouth again as if he would say more, but then he shook his head and slowly walked off alone. A moment later Kate heard the study door close behind him.
Tears streamed down Nettie’s fair cheeks. “It’s not fair,” she said, balling up her skirts in her fists. “It’s not right. There must be some mistake. They counted wrong.”
“Nettie,” Kate soothed, embracing her. “There is no mistake. Uncle Edward would not have gotten it wrong.”
A catch in her throat silenced her. She was close to weeping too, but she refused to break down in the foyer with all eyes upon her. Her father needed them to be strong, loyal, and reassuring as he prepared for a future far different from his expectations, and the rest of the family would follow her lead. She would grieve later, alone, where no one could see.
Later that day, as word of her father’s defeat and Mr. Lincoln’s triumph diffused through the city, a muted ceremony to honor the nominee took place. The brass bands and fireworks were canceled, but the cannon fired once at the corner of Third and State streets, and then it was over. Kate, who had hoped to attend a grand celebration at her father’s side, instead heard the thunderous salute from her father’s library, where she had set up the chessboard and invited him to play. After halfheartedly capturing a few of her pawns and losing a knight, he apologized and told her he felt a headache coming on and wanted nothing more than to lie in the quiet darkness of his bedchamber and rest his eyes.
In the days that followed, Kate stifled her indignant anger as she read how the delegates in Chicago had celebrated after making their choice—the wrong choice—and how cannons had been fired and nearly thirty thousand people had filled the streets, shouting and cheering, how the
Press
and
Tribune
buildings had been illuminated from foundation to rooftop, and how bands had played triumphant marches as Republicans paraded through the streets with fence rails on their shoulders in a nod to Mr. Lincoln’s humble origins.
“Fence rails again,” Kate muttered, shoving the papers aside in disgust. The people could have chosen as their champion a truly wise and good man, a brilliant governor, a courageous defender of the Negro, a tireless enemy of slavery, but instead they had settled for an unpolished, untried country lawyer, a one-term congressman from the wilds of Illinois—all because he told entertaining stories, could make a good speech, and wasn’t William H. Seward.
The people would realize their mistake in due course, but by then it would be too late.
• • •
Where Kate was disappointed and indignant, her father felt betrayed, bitter, and hurt. In the immediate aftermath of the convention, he could not conceal his fury at the delegates of Ohio for refusing to rally behind him unanimously. “When I reflect upon what Illinois did for Lincoln, what New York did for Seward, and what Missouri did for Bates,” he told Kate one morning as they strolled through the garden, her arm through his, “and then when I consider the actions of the Ohio delegation, I confess it wrenches my heart.”
“There is no excuse for their treachery,” Kate said hotly. “The outcome would have been entirely different had they been true.”
Although Father was tormented by
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