Mrs. Lincoln's Rival (33 page)

“I would not call Governor Sprague my enemy,” Father said, “unless, of course, he has become yours.”

“He has not,” Kate assured him, patting his arm. Governor Sprague was not her enemy. He was nothing to her anymore except her father’s political acquaintance and potential ally. That was the only role the Boy Governor would ever again play in her life.

Addie had already gone to and from the market by the time Father concluded his abashed warning about their altered plans for the evening, and she had the supper preparations well under way by the time Kate went downstairs to the kitchen to apologize on her father’s behalf for the late notice, just in case he had forgotten to do so.

“It’s nothing at all to make a supper for three, Miss Kate,” Addie assured her, but she wore a frown as her cleaver came down with a solid whack on the neck of a plucked chicken. “If I had more time, I would have made you that roast duck with oysters you like so much, and peanut soup. I’d be happy to do that as soon as tomorrow, if you like, but it’s too much food without Nettie here to take her portion.” Another forceful whack sounded as the cleaver struck the cutting board. “Maybe you might see if that nice Mr. Hay would like to come so nothing goes to waste.”

“Addie?”

“Yes, Miss Kate?”

“Governor Sprague is not my suitor.”

Addie regarded her from beneath raised brows, her expression a study in skepticism. “If you say so, Miss Kate.”

With a laugh and a sigh, Kate hurried off to inspect the china and the silver, and to contemplate the crucial matter of what to wear.

At seven o’clock, Governor Sprague arrived, clad in a fine black suit rather than his military garb, bearing flowers for Kate and a box of cigars for her father, which she knew he would keep untouched in a desk drawer until he found a suitable occasion to give them away. Considering his last letter, Kate had expected the governor to act cold and distant, but astonishingly, he seemed pleased to see her and made all the usual, appropriate compliments with something that bore a remarkable resemblance to sincerity. Addie’s dinner of chicken stuffed with apples and sausage was delicious, but Governor Sprague took two glasses of wine with it, which Kate knew would earn her father’s disapproval, as it had hers.

Encouraged by the wine, perhaps, Governor Sprague spoke expansively about a recent trip to Altoona, Pennsylvania, where he had attended the Loyal War Governors’ Conference at the Logan House Hotel. “Thirteen of us convened,” he said, “to discuss the war effort, state recruitment quotas, and the like.”

“How very interesting,” Kate said politely.

The governor smiled as proudly as if she had burst into applause. “We also spoke at length about General McClellan’s appalling performance on the battlefield and the necessity for his immediate removal as the leader of any Union army.”

“Now, that is a conversation I would have enjoyed immensely,” said Father.

“Not all of us agreed on that point,” Governor Sprague admitted, “but the vast majority would rejoice if Mr. Lincoln ousted McClellan tomorrow.”

Father nodded. “A vast majority of the cabinet would as well.”

“We also affirmed our support of President Lincoln and his Emancipation Proclamation, and debated a number of other topics, all to the effect of how our separate states could best support the Union cause.” The governor was clearly proud of all they had accomplished, which to Kate seemed little more than a lot of talk—though to be fair, she was displeased with him and was unlikely to regard anything he did in a favorable light. “When our debates ended, we drafted an address expressing our positions, and all but Governor Bradford consented to the final document.”

“I assume Governor Bradford’s dissent rested on some matter of slavery,” said Kate. It was the most logical conclusion, since Maryland remained a slave state.

“Exactly so. Immediately after we adjourned, the conference sent a delegation to the White House to present our deliberations to the president.” Governor Sprague shook his head, frowning. “The president welcomed our suggestions regarding the states’ support of the war effort, but he refused even to discuss replacing McClellan.”

“He puts too much misplaced faith in that man,” said Father. “I will never understand it, but I’m pleased to find, Governor, that you and I concur on so many important matters regarding the conduct of the war.”

“You and I, and Miss Chase too, I believe,” the governor remarked, raising his glass to Kate.

Kate gave him a gracious nod in reply, the picture of serenity, but her thoughts were in a whirl. He was incomprehensible. It was impossible to believe that this cordial dinner guest was the same man who had written her that dreadful, cold, accusing letter. Sometimes it was as if he were two men, and she never knew which one she would meet on any given day.

“While I was with the president,” the governor said, pausing dramatically, “I asked permission to organize a Negro regiment.”

Father and Kate exchanged a look, startled. “How did the president respond?” Kate inquired, although she suspected she knew the answer.

“He said he was against arming the Negroes, and he declined to discuss the issue further.”

“Would you really do it?” Kate pressed him. “Would you outfit a regiment of colored men as you did the First Rhode Island, and ride at the head of the column as you did for the white soldiers you recruited?”

“I would,” he replied so staunchly, so puzzled that she needed to ask, that she believed him, and for a brief moment she was impressed. Then she reminded herself of his changeable moods, and imagined him abandoning his Negro regiment in the field after a fellow white officer criticized them for some imagined disrespect. That, she thought scathingly, was the Boy Governor she knew.

The governor went on to describe the difficulties of his journey to Altoona, turning it into the sort of comical tale Mr. Lincoln enjoyed—how he and an aide had been obliged to travel by boxcar for three days; how they had slept on the rough floor wrapped in military blankets; how whenever they became hungry they would notify the conductor, who would stop the train at the nearest hospitable-looking farmhouse, where they would cajole the inhabitants into letting them buy a hearty meal. Several times Southern sympathizers fired upon the train, but its passengers and crew had always escaped unharmed.

Father enjoyed the evening tremendously, and Kate managed to appear as if she did by pretending William Sprague was a stranger, a patronage seeker whom she would never see again after that night, but whose goodwill Father needed.

“How long will you remain in the capital, Governor?” Father asked later, as they were saying good night at the door.

“Only a few days,” he replied, and his gaze fell warmly upon Kate’s face, searching for some remnant of affection. She felt a strange wrenching, and to her dismay the old longings began to rise to the surface from the depths where she had buried them in midsummer. “I hope that I might see you both again before then.”

Father cordially echoed his wishes, but Kate merely smiled politely and expressed no preference one way or another, which a gentleman ought to recognize as a strong disinclination.

Either he understood, or he was too preoccupied with business, or he simply forgot, but he did not call again, and a few days later she was relieved to read in the papers that he had returned to Providence.

On a rainy evening soon thereafter, Father lingered at the supper table long after he usually retired to his study. “Kate,” he said just as she was about to suggest they have a game of chess, “may I have a word?”

He could have had a word at any time throughout the meal, and in fact, they had exchanged a great many, but his expression had turned pensive, so she did not tease him. “Of course.”

“Governor Sprague came to see me at the Treasury the morning after he dined with us.”

Kate inhaled steadily, concealing her sudden disquiet. “To seek your help persuading Mr. Lincoln to allow him to recruit a Negro regiment?” Father had long advocated such measures, and he would be an eminent ally to enlist for the governor’s mission.

“To discuss the cotton trade,” said Father. “You know it has become much more difficult for him to keep his mills going.”

“I didn’t know, but of course that makes perfect sense.” The Sprague mills needed cotton to weave their cloth, but after war erupted, embargoes and blockades had served to make that a rare commodity in the North. In November of 1861, after the federal navy had captured numerous South Carolina Sea Islands in the Battle of Port Royal, Father had established an experiment there in which the cotton plantations, hastily abandoned by their white owners as they fled the Union incursion, were turned over to the use of their former slaves. With the government and private charities providing food, clothing, medical care, and training, the freedmen were employed in growing, harvesting, and processing the valuable Sea Island cotton, all under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Treasury. The Port Royal experiment had thus far proven to be a resounding success, with the former slaves convincing all but the most ardent skeptics that they could work the land efficiently and manage their own affairs. Kate was tremendously proud of her father’s accomplishments there, and she hoped the Sea Islands would become a model for administrators of other Southern regions that were restored to federal control.

But the Port Royal experiment was not the only source of cotton for the North. Since a significant portion of the northeastern economy depended upon cotton, early in the war, President Lincoln, Father, and the rest of the cabinet had devised a system for Northern manufacturers to purchase cotton from loyal Unionists in the South, but only if they obtained the necessary permits. Father had insisted upon that measure in order to prevent unmonitored cotton trading across the border, which could inadvertently provide aid and comfort to the Confederacy. The authority to grant cotton trading permits resided with Father, as secretary of the treasury, and he dispensed them scrupulously, wary of schemes that could benefit rebellious slaveholders falsely representing themselves as loyal Union men.

“You may remember,” Father said, “that Governor Sprague sought a cotton trading permit from me quite a long while ago.”

“Yes, but he didn’t receive one, if I recall correctly.”

“There were only so many to go around, and other companies put forth better applications.” He added, almost apologetically, “I could not let his friendly acquaintance with you—with us—outweigh other factors.”

Kate nodded, unsure where the conversation was leading. “Is he presenting his case again?”

“He does inquire from time to time, and he’d be a very bad businessman if he did not.” Father fell silent for a moment. “But that is not the crux of the problem.”

Kate steeled herself. “What is, then?”

“Do you know of a gentleman named Harris Hoyt?”

Kate thought for a moment. “I don’t believe so. Is he related to Governor Sprague? I believe he has cousins named Hoyt.”

Father shook his head. “I think this Mr. Hoyt would have told me if he were a relation. This fellow is a Texan, and over the past month or more he’s carried a rather wild tale around the capital. He claims that he was banished from Texas for being a loyal Union man, and that he was forced to leave behind his wife, children, and property, most of which is cotton.”

“I see,” said Kate, although she wasn’t quite sure what this Mr. Hoyt had to do with Governor Sprague or herself.

“He says there are many Union men like himself in Texas with plenty of cotton to sell in the North, if only they could get around the blockade enforced by the Union navy.”

“I’m sure there are many men with cotton to sell,” said Kate, “but whether they’re Union men is another matter entirely.”

“And very difficult to prove from so great a distance. Well, our Mr. Hoyt claims he has that proof. He carries with him what he says is a recommendation from President Lincoln attesting to his loyalty.”

“An impressive credential.”

“Yes, if it were real. Mr. Hoyt made the rounds of the cabinet offices, brandished his letter of recommendation, and asked for a permit to bring cotton through the blockade. Secretary Welles and Secretary Stanton refused him in no uncertain terms.”

“Why did he go to the departments of Navy and of War instead of coming to you?”

“I suppose he did not understand the proper jurisdiction.” Father frowned deeply, brooding. “Or perhaps he assumed they were the men to see about a troublesome naval blockade. Eventually Mr. Hoyt made his way to me, and I discovered at once why my fellow secretaries rebuffed him. The so-called letter of recommendation from the White House was not
from
the president at all, but a letter of introduction
to
the president, written by John Hay.”

“John Hay?” Kate echoed, dismayed to hear his name mixed up in what sounded like suspicious dealings.

“My dear Katie, don’t worry,” Father assured her. “Your friend has done nothing untoward. The letter was a matter of form, written at Mr. Hoyt’s request, commending him to the confidence and kind offices of whatever Union people he may meet as he travels home.”

“Oh, good,” said Kate, much relieved.

“But that is not how Mr. Hoyt represented the letter to me,” Father emphasized, “or to Welles or Stanton, and I presume whomever else he may have harassed. In fact, I’m not even certain that Mr. Hay wrote the letter attributed to him—or rather, attributed to President Lincoln, though it has Mr. Hay’s name on it.”

Kate managed a laugh. “I believe I understand why Mr. Stanton and Mr. Welles rejected his suit.”

“And why I did as well. I never heard such a strange, implausible story. You would think that would have been the end of the matter, but yesterday afternoon, who should appear at my office door but the indefatigable Mr. Hoyt, undaunted and curious to see if I had changed my mind.”

“Not a man to give up easily, I see.”

“I again refused him, and for the same reasons as before, and then I returned to the work on my desk, because as far as I was concerned, the matter was settled. In a sudden burst of anger, Hoyt threatened that if I did not issue him a permit at once, he would report me to Sprague and his partners.”