Assassin (14 page)

Mrs. Keckley agreed, and I tried on the dress, which was too large in the waist. Mrs. Keckley pinned it for me, and I knew I could take the stitches out tomorrow. “Where are you going to dinner?” she asked as she worked.

I had been studying myself in the long mirror. The dress made me feel beautiful, and I could see that my face had a glow to it. I barely knew that Mrs. Keckley had spoken. “I’m sorry,” I said. “What did you say?”

“I asked where you were eating tonight.”

“At the National Hotel. Doesn’t that sound grand?”

“Uh-huh.” She put in the last pin. “There,” she said and stepped back to look at me. “You look lovely, Bella,” she said, but I noticed a worried look in her eyes. “You want to be careful with folks, honey, not just theater folks, but all kinds. You want to be sure who is your true friend, and who would drop you like a hot potato if trouble should come.”

“Oh, I know,” I said. “I know.” But of course I did not
know, could not see what heartbreak lay ahead for me, could not see that I was being flattered into doing what I knew was wrong. “I am always careful about people,” I told Mrs. Keckley. I thanked her then for helping me and got down from the fitting platform.

All day I watched the clock. At six I usually went home for the day or to Ford’s to sew. This day, I would put on the red dress again and go off to meet a prince. Thinking I was at the theater, my grandmother would not wonder about my absence. She would leave a plate of food for me on the stove, but I would not be hungry when I arrived home. I felt magnificent, as if I might never need to eat or sleep again.

I dressed in the sewing room, put my hair on top of my head, and with my savings, I hired a hansom cab to take me to the National Hotel. I had, I believed, no need to worry about how I would get home. Wilkes would see that I arrived safely at my door when our magnificent evening was over. Even before I got to the room, I heard the music, wonderful sweet violin music.

He sat at a table facing the door, and when I entered he got up and came toward me, his hand out to take mine. I felt as if I floated toward him. He took my hand and kissed it. “Let’s have our dinner first,” he said when we were settled at our table. “There will be time enough to talk business when our meal is finished.”

Wilkes ordered for me, duck cooked in wine sauce. The food was wonderful, but I had absolutely no hunger
and had to force myself to eat. As we ate, he told me stories, stories about the theater and about growing up with his brothers and sisters. “Once,” he said, “when we lived on the farm, I took it into my head that I could be a good actor if I could portray a woman.” He laughed. “My sister Asia, always ready to help me, worked with me on how to walk. She told me I was good and suggested that I should try to fool the slaves from the next place that we always rented to help with the harvest. They knew me well, and I worried that I might not pass the test. I put on one of Asia’s bonnets and went out into the fields. The men paused in their work as I passed them. They took off their hats and bowed their heads in respect.” He laughed again and slapped the table. “Not wanting to embarrass them, I did not let on, only walked away with my head held high. I knew from that time that I could act.” He sighed. “We had good times together, especially Asia and I.” He leaned toward me. “Do you have brothers and sisters, Bella?”

I shook my head. “No, I had a rather lonely childhood,” I said, “after my mother died, that is.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. “You will be lonely no more, sweet thing. You now have Wilkes Booth for a friend.”

It seems strange to me now that at just that moment, just when Wilkes was speaking of being my friend, and I was thrilling to the idea, that I should look up and see my real friend. I had not expected to see Steven until August,
but there he was, standing in the doorway to the dining room at the National Hotel.

“Oh!” I gasped and put my hand over my mouth. Steven moved his head in one direction and then the other, obviously looking for me. He was looking for the Bella he knew in a simple dress, her hair down. I knew he would eventually spot me, and I did not want him to come to our table. “I must speak to someone,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” Jumping up hurriedly, I bumped against the table as I stood, but I did not take time to say “Excuse me” to Wilkes, who rose, as a gentleman would, until I had moved away.

Steven’s face lit up with a smile when he saw me, and he started to move toward me. I held up my hand to motion for him to stop, and I went to him. He took my hand, “Wow, Bella,” he said, “you are sure dressed up! You look beautiful. What are you doing?”

“Let’s talk in the hall,” I said, and I led Steven out of the dining room.

Steven, still the talker, did not wait for me to answer his question. “Boy,” he said, “am I glad I found you! When you weren’t home, I went to Ford’s Theatre, but I couldn’t get in there, so I checked the White House. Mrs. Keckley said I might find you here.”

“Yes,” I said, glancing over my shoulder toward the dining room entrance. “I’m with a gentleman—he’s an important actor, and we’re talking about a role that might come up for me soon.” My voice sounded strange in my
ears. I could not look at Steven’s face. He knew me so well, and I realized at once that he would know I was lying.

He bit at his lip before he spoke. “Gosh, that’s great, I guess, him wanting to get you a part and all.” He leaned around me slightly as if to get another look into the dining room. “If you aren’t finished eating, I could wait here in the lobby for you. Have you talked over the part enough?”

I wanted to stall, needed time to think of something to say. “How did you get here?” I asked. “I thought you were coming in the summer.”

“I got a chance for a free trip, riding down on the train with one of the younger students who needed to come to Washington for a funeral. I’ve got to go back early in the morning, got to get back to class.”

I could have asked Steven to wait for me in the lobby, could have excused myself after the meal. The evening would still have been young enough for me to spend some time with Steven. I thought of all that, but I also thought of being driven home in Wilkes’s carriage. A scene flashed through my mind of Wilkes’s kissing me good night.

“I can’t just leave after the meal,” I said to Steven. “It would be rude not to let the gentleman see me home.”

A look of pain crossed Steven’s face. “Bella,” he said, “tell me there is nothing personal between you and this man. Why should he care who sees you home?”

“We could meet in the morning,” I said. I reached out to pull at his arm. “I don’t care how early.”

The familiar blue eyes went cold, colder than I had ever seen them. “Never mind,” he said, and he turned sharply to go.

Suddenly, I was desperately afraid of losing him. I could not let him go away angry with me, and I ran after him. “Steven,” I pleaded, “just a minute.” He did not turn back.

I held tight to the back of a couch in the lobby for a moment. I had hurt Steven’s feelings. What if he would not forgive me? Hadn’t I said to Wilkes in the cab that winter morning that I could not imagine my life without Steven? I knew him to be a stubborn person, once he made a decision. I gave myself a little shake. I would not think about life without Steven now. If I did, I might run out and leave the most handsome man in America waiting for me. I would have time later to sort it all out.

I put my hand to my hair and smoothed back some wisps that had fallen from the combs. I squared my shoulders and walked back into the dining room.

Wilkes rose as I came to the table. “I was near to worrying about you,” he said.

I smiled. “It was nothing, a friend happened by. I hadn’t seen him for a while and wanted to say hello. That’s all.”

“Good,” said Wilkes, and he pulled his chair close to mine. “We need to talk some business now.”

There was no one at the table near us, but still Wilkes’s voice was low. “Now, as I said, you need to change your
work hours. Be ever watchful of the president. When he rides out to the Soldiers’ Home, all you have to do is leave at once. Go to the Surratt boardinghouse and ask for John Surratt. When he comes to the door, tell him you were sent by Wilkes Booth. Then you can go home. Your part will be over, and you will have done something fine for your father and for the South.”

I wanted to say no. Wanted to say that I did not care to get involved in such a plot. “What if this John Surratt is not at home? What would I do then?”

Wilkes smiled. “Don’t worry, he will be there, and he will know where to reach me.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to have the man watch the White House in the evenings? I might miss Mr. Lincoln’s leaving.”

Wilkes reached out to touch my face. “We can’t have men seen watching the White House,” he said. “They would be noticed. Don’t worry your pretty head with details.” He looked at me closely, then drew somewhat away from me. “You do want to help me, don’t you? You do want to save your father?”

My cheek burned where his fingertips had brushed it. I could not bear to have him move away from me. “Yes,” I said softly. “Yes, I will do what you say.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me close to him for just an instant. “We will work happily together, Arabella,” he said. I drew in the smell of his skin and wanted nothing else except to stay there close to him.

He hailed a hansom cab for our ride home. He helped me up, and I took a seat on one side as he climbed in behind me. I wondered if he would sit on the seat across from me, but he settled himself beside me, just close enough so that we bumped into each other when the carriage went around a corner. I felt like Cinderella returning from the ball, but in my case the prince was with me, not left holding my shoe.

Wilkes told me theater stories. “I played with a company in Philadelphia when I first started,” he said. “There I was onstage during the second performance when my fake mustache came loose as I kissed a woman on the cheek. Stuck right to her skin, but strangely she failed to notice. She moved away after the kiss. I was supposed to stay still, but I followed her, my hand over my mouth in a foolish attempt to hide my bare upper lip. I wanted to get close enough to her to brush the mustache from her face, but she was trying to talk to another character who had come onto the stage. She gave me angry looks for being where I was not supposed to be and moved away each time I got close. Finally, I lost control. “My mustache is stuck to your cheek,” I said in what I intended to be a whisper. It came out loud, though, because I worked so hard in those days at projecting to be heard. The audience roared with laughter. I wished a trapdoor could open and swallow me up!”

“It must be wonderful to be onstage, to have stories about being in plays,” I said.

He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Ah, you will know, Arabella. You will be one of us and win many a heart.”

His was the only heart I wanted to win. I knew I had lost touch with reality. Even there in that carriage, as we rode toward my home, I knew I was making a mistake, but I seemed to have no power to stop myself. When we arrived, Wilkes walked with me to the door. I did not want my wonderful evening to end. We stood on the stoop in the moonlight, and Wilkes pushed a fallen wisp of curl back from my forehead. His face was close to mine. “Tomorrow you must change your work schedule. Then when the time comes, run quickly to the Surratt boardinghouse. Knock on the door and say simply, ‘Wilkes sent me.’ Nothing more will be required of you.” He moved as if to step away, and then he turned back. “Tell me once more that I can count on you. That you are my friend and will not fail me.”

For a second, I did not speak. “Arabella?” he said, and his voice was soft and sadly sweet.

“Yes,” I said. “Oh, yes, I am your friend, and I will do exactly as you ask.”

“Good,” he said. He put his hands on both sides of my cheeks, tilted my head slightly up to meet his, and kissed me briefly on the forehead. “I knew I could count on you. I must run.” He walked back toward the carriage then, leaving me still on the stoop. After a few steps, he turned back and threw me a kiss.

For the second night in a row, I slept but little. Grandmother had not stirred as I slipped out of the red dress and folded it back into the box. I went immediately to my bed, but sleep did not come. I lay there going over the evening. Away from Wilkes, as I now was, my thoughts turned to Steven. In my mind I saw the hurt look on his face. As the night hours passed, my feelings for Wilkes seemed more and more like a dream, and my misery grew over what I had done to Steven and about what I had agreed to do to Mr. Lincoln.

What would happen, I wondered, if I did not do as I had promised Wilkes? He would find me, I knew, and demand to know why I had changed my mind. It did not seem likely I would have the strength to stand against him. There was my father to consider also, and Wilkes had promised that no harm would come to Mr. Lincoln.

I walked to the White House the next morning full of dread. What would I say to Mrs. Keckley? That part proved easy. I simply told her that I had given up sewing at Ford’s for a time and had taken on a dressmaking job for a woman who lived near me. I would need to come to the White House later. I held my breath after the request was made.

She stood beside a dressmaker’s dummy, making tucks in a blue gown. She looked up at me and smiled. “Certainly,” she said. “I’ll be glad to have your company while the Lincolns are at dinner.”

I was unaccustomed to lying, and I looked down at
my feet as she spoke. “Is something more troubling you, Bella?” she asked.

“No,” I said, but I was troubled, troubled beyond any trouble that had ever touched my life. On the second day, I was about to enter the White House when a boy came running toward me waving an envelope. “Arabella Getchel?” he called. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He handed me the envelope.

“It’s from Mr. Booth,” he said with pride. “He paid me extra.” The boy moved away then. I took a small piece of expensive-looking paper from the envelope. “I pray you have not forgotten our cause,” it said, and it was signed, “Your admirer, W. B.”