Previously: War Secretary Stanton holds the Lincolns and janitor Gabby Zook captive in the White House basement. Private Adam Christy takes guard duties. Ashamed and distraught, Adam gets drunk and kills the butler who stops him from molesting the cook. Six months later Richmond falls to the Union. The captives in the basement learn the war is over.
Alethia looked out of her bedroom window at the setting sun. She thought of the late afternoon, two years ago now, when she unpacked her bag. She had been afraid until she met Duff. The last year had been the happiest in her life, and she had hopes it would continue. She was a little sad that she would never see Tad again. He had been so wild when they had first met, but now he was a kind, loving child. Perhaps she would have her own child soon, if Duff proposed marriage. They would live in Michigan. She didn’t want to go back to Maryland.
“Molly,” Duff said at her bedroom door, “it’s time for supper.”
“I thought the crowds would never leave.” Alethia rushed to him and hugged him tightly. Looking up, she kissed him. “I missed you so much while you were in Richmond.”
“I missed you, too,” Duff echoed. His face seemed to darken. “You know, the war will be over soon.”
“Yes, I know,” Alethia replied, taking Duff’s large, rough hand in hers as she led him out the door. “I can hardly wait. We’ve so many plans to make, plans we were afraid to make before now.”
“I thought you might be doing that.”
“Of course. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of the day when all of this would be over.”
They entered the dining room, and Tad was already there. Cleotis appeared with their dinner of beefsteak, gravy, potatoes, and greens. Smiling graciously, he put the plates down and then poured milk for Tad and coffee for Alethia and Duff.
“Thank you, Cleotis,” Alethia said.
“My pleasure, madam,” he replied and left.
“I like Cleotis very much.” Alethia sipped her coffee. “He’s much friendlier than Neal—not that Neal was rude, but there was something aloof about him. Neal’s departure was so sudden. Do you know why, Father?”
“No. Perhaps he finally crossed the line of proper behavior,” Duff replied.
“Shouldn’t you have been told why?” she asked.
“Sometimes it’s best not to be told.”
“Anyway, I like Cleotis very much.” Alethia smiled as she cut into her steak.
As they finished their meal, Stanton opened the door and sat in the empty chair at the end of the table, his face as somber as ever.
“General Lee surrendered today at the Appomattox courthouse in Virginia.”
“The war’s over!” Tad exclaimed. “Good! I can finally—”
“Tad dearest,” Alethia sweetly interrupted, “have you finished your supper?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Would you like to inform the staff the war’s over?”
“Yes, Mama.”
After Tad closed the door, Stanton listened for the little footsteps to fade. After what Alethia thought was an interminable pause, Stanton put on his pebble glasses and pulled out a notepad, opened it, and read slowly.
“Your debts will be canceled Friday, and you both can leave after sunset.”
“Thank God.” Alethia crossed herself.
“Thank me.” Stanton’s cupid lips turned up in a smug smile. “Both of you would have surely hanged if I hadn’t intervened.”
Alethia stiffened. Looking at Duff, she could not sense a direction to follow. In the last two years, she not only had fallen in love with Duff, but also had learned to lean on his judgment. At this moment, she found him indecipherable.
“So, it’ll be as simple as that,” Duff finally said. “We pack our bags, mount a carriage, and disappear in the night.”
“As simple as that.” Stanton’s eyes narrowed.
His tone bothered Alethia, until she thought of her new life in Michigan. Once they were on the steamboat up the Potomac, they could forget the lies, pretense, and, most of all, Edwin Stanton.
“Your duties aren’t over yet,” he continued. “There’ll be a candlelight parade tomorrow evening, so you’ll have to read a speech on the balcony.”
“Will Lincoln write it?” Duff asked.
“Yes, like the others,” Stanton replied. “And then the Cabinet meets on Wednesday and Friday.”
Alethia concentrated on experiencing spring in Michigan; frankly, affairs of government no longer interested her.
“Enjoy your supper.” Stanton stood. “Take everything with you; we don’t want any evidence that anyone other than the Lincolns have lived upstairs.”
No evidence left to show they were there, she repeated to herself; a disturbing notion. Shrugging, she decided not to dwell on that thought.