The Reluctant Bridegroom. Shannon Farrington

hadn’t been committed to going, his father would have wanted him there anyway.

      It isn’t a campaign stop, he thought, but he wouldn’t argue the point here in the house of God.

      Van der Geld looked pleased. “Rebekah will be there, as well,” he said.

      “Is that so?” Henry replied, gauging her response. There was that suspicious look again. Was it directed at her father or him?

      Has she planned to attend the ceremony, or has she been told to do so? Was she told to accept me, as well?

      He did not have time to ponder the thought further. Van der Geld closed the conversation and led his family away.

      The following morning, Henry’s fiancée was standing on the platform alongside her other family members while her father, Mayor Chapman and a representative from the provost marshal’s office made their respective speeches to those on hand. Henry watched her from his position in the crowd.

      He had brought Kathleen and Grace with him, wanting to give Hannah and Sadie a much-needed break and hoping the fresh air would do the children some good. Grace thankfully slept in his arms. Kathleen, recognizing Miss Van der Geld, tugged on Henry’s sack coat. “The lady,” she said.

      He nodded but said nothing more. As speeches honoring fallen Union soldiers continued, Miss Van der Geld herself spied the children. The somber set of her jaw melted to an attractive smile. When she was freed from her position on the platform, she and several other women circulated the crowd. They presented the veterans’ female relatives and sweethearts with fresh flowers, a token of gratitude, an acknowledgment of the sacrifices they had made while the men had been away at war.

      Their paths soon crossed. Grace, now awake, wiggled fitfully in Henry’s arms. Unable to lift his hat properly, he bid Miss Van der Geld good day.

      She nodded formally to him but eyed Grace with a look of fondness. Then she smiled again at Kathleen. “She is just as pretty as her big sister.”

      Kathleen offered the barest hint of a smile. “Pretty flowers,” she then said, having noticed the bouquet of jonquils in Miss Van der Geld’s arms.

      A look of uncertainty darkened the woman’s face for the briefest of moments as she stole a glance in her father’s direction. He was still on the platform, speaking privately with those gathered around him. Turning back to Kathleen, Miss Van der Geld’s smile returned.

      “These flowers are for ladies whose fathers or brothers or sons served in the army.”

      Kathleen’s eyes immediately widened. “My daddy was in the army!”

      “Yes, I know,” Miss Van der Geld said as she presented Kathleen with a jonquil. “And here is another for your sister. Since she is so little, will you take care of it for her?”

      Kathleen nodded solemnly as if she considered the act a sacred duty. Henry was touched. His niece, thrusting one hand into the crook of his elbow, pulled the flowers close with the other and sniffed.

      “You are very kind,” he said to Miss Van der Geld.

      She lowered her eyes as if she were uncomfortable with the compliment. “It was only right,” she said.

      Movement behind her caught his attention. Her father had exited the platform and was now shaking hands with the veterans. A few feet behind him was a man in a charcoal-colored greatcoat. Henry recognized that flat nose and pensive glare from anywhere. It was Detective Smith.

      The hair on the back of his neck stood up, for the man was maneuvering through the mass of former Union soldiers, coming in Henry’s direction.

      “...today, as well.”

      He realized then Miss Van der Geld had said something else to him. Shifting Grace from one arm to the other, he tried to refocus. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

      She offered him a shy smile, innocent and pretty. “I said, they should be honoring you today, as well.”

      Henry was again touched. Rebekah Van der Geld was a lovely Christian woman, one who deserves the truth. Once more the call to confession rang through him, but he quickly squelched it. He told himself that in this moment, the truth would do more harm than good. Detective Smith was drawing closer.

      Henry forced himself to look only at Miss Van der Geld. “Again, you are very kind,” he said.

      “It saddens me, though, to think our soldiers’ homecomings are held under such dreadful circumstances.”

      “Circumstances?”

      “The president...”

      That rock lodged again in his throat. “Ah, yes...”

      Her father then approached. The moment he noticed Kathleen’s flowers, he frowned. Thankfully Henry’s niece was oblivious to the fact. Still captivated by the jonquils, she was humming to herself. It was the first time he had heard her do so. Henry wanted to take pleasure in this, but the situation would not allow him to do so. Detective Smith had stepped from his field of vision. Henry couldn’t locate him anywhere. Would the state delegate’s arrival be enough to keep the detective from approaching Henry and his nieces?

      “It is a pleasure to see you again, Councilman Nash,” Van der Geld said, his face now reflecting an expression of cordiality. “I know you will be attending President Lincoln’s funeral procession. Will your father attend, as well, or will he be returning to Annapolis?”

      “We will both attend,” Henry said. “Like you, my father is waiting until after the procession to depart.”

      Pleased, Van der Geld nodded and smiled. “I hope your father and I may have a chance to speak with one another. Thousands are likely to attend the president’s viewing.”

      Henry couldn’t help but notice the look on Miss Van der Geld’s face just then. Had she, like him, picked up on the unspoken meaning of her father’s words? Thousands were likely to attend the president’s viewing. Thousands of potential voters. Van der Geld wanted the public to see he was making nice with his chief rival.

      That’s the only reason he has any interest in me or my father, Henry thought.

      Van der Geld was apparently eager to finish his rounds. “Come, Rebekah,” he said. “I’m certain Councilman Nash has other matters to attend to. We mustn’t keep him.”

      She nodded respectfully, then bid Henry and the children farewell.

      Henry couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. It was becoming obvious to him that she had been groomed to be a sturdy, silent wife, one who would never even think of causing inconvenience to the man to whom she was bound or to the father who had arranged it. He despised himself for being part of such a plot. How can I continue to go along with this?

      But he already knew the answer. There was an eight-week-old baby girl in his arms. Her four-year-old sister was standing beside him, and Detective Smith was still somewhere in the crowd.

      * * *

      Lincoln’s funeral train arrived in Baltimore on Wednesday morning. The weather matched the somber occasion. A cold rain poured down, yet, just as Theodore Van der Geld had predicted, thousands turned out to view the elaborate procession. The president’s coffin was removed from the train at Camden Station, placed in a rosewood hearse, then pulled by four horses through the city. Nearly every person who held a position of authority in Baltimore—military, political or clerical—followed the remains.

      Henry and his fellow council members were no exception. They were placed just behind Governor Bradford and then the aspiring governor, Theodore Van der Geld. Henry drove alone in his carriage. The children were at home with Hannah and Sadie, while Harold and Miss Van der Geld were to meet him at the Merchant’s Exchange Building. It was there that the late president’s body would be available for public view.

      It took nearly three hours to cover the short distance. Lining the cobblestone streets were grief-stricken faces. Sprinkled among them were