later.
"You'd best get in that bed," she advised. "That powder is going to start to work soon." She was unpacking my clothing and putting it into the chiffonier.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"Lincoln," she said. "It's so terrible. They closed the schools. Nobody knows what's really happened yet. They're saying it's a Confederate plot. There are thirty thousand Confederate soldiers in town on parole after Lee's surrender. I came in case any of them were attacked. Your uncle might need me."
"Is it true about women being doctors?"
"Yes." She was hanging my dresses.
"Then why don't you become one if you want to? Uncle Valentine could help you."
"I'm part Negro. It's difficult enough for white women who want to become doctors."
"You look white."
"There is always someone who would find out. I don't wish to put myself through that. So I teach. And I help your uncle in his laboratory, though it's not supposed to be known."
"Why?"
"Dr. Walker is the exception, not the rule. Women don't help in laboratories in this country. We're very behind Europe. Oh yes, your uncle has been summoned to the White House."
"The White House?"
"Yes. The authorities want his advice. Likely about what to inject in Lincoln's body so it holds up for the funeral. He knows about that. And he wants to see the head wound. He's very interested in head wounds."
"He says he knows nothing about them."
"Not enough yet, no. But he will learn. He is doing some very important work in medicine. If you are going to live here, don't pry."
"I didn't say I was going to live here."
She gave my pillow a final pat. "You will."
The powder was starting to work. Rain was pouring down outside. Even through the closed windows we could hear the shouts of the people in the streets. "Kill the damn Rebels! Kill the traitors!"
"I fear for Annie and Mrs. Mary," I allowed.
"And what of this Johnny of yours?" She arched her brows at me.
"He isn't mine," I said sadly. "He never was mine. And he's in Canada."
"Change your clothing. I'll bring some hot tea."
I took off my wet clothing, toweled myself dry, and put on the dressing gown. It felt soft and comforting. My head was spinning from the powder.
Marietta brought up the tea. It was darkening now, so she lighted the gaslight. Then the bells started to ring, what seemed like dozens of them, from all over; deep and solemn, they rang, some from distances far across the city.
"The death bells for Lincoln," she said, "and it's about time, too. Your uncle said Secretary Stanton ordered them hours ago. Oh, that reminds me, if you hear anything, don't be frightened."
"Like what?"
"Sometimes Addie Bassett gets out of her room at night. She's locked in days, because the medicine makes her woozy. Nights she's allowed to walk around, though the rest of the house is locked. She's harmless, so don't worry."
"She's locked in days?"
"It's for her own good."
Of course,
I thought.
Like my being here is for my own good.
Marietta's smile deepened. "It is for your own good," she said. And before I could reply she was gone.
I drank my tea. I read a bit. I heard some noise outside and went to look out. Uncle Valentine's carriage was just going out the gate. Merry Andrews secured the gate behind it, then leaped back up inside and they drove off. Would Uncle Valentine take Merry into the White House with him? A dwarf? Why not? Tom Thumb and his wife had been received by the Lincolns. Oh, the world had gone mad.
It was raining in gusts. I was glad for the warm fire in the grate, for the rain had chilled the room. I leaned back in the chair and listened to the steady tolling of the death bells. I must have closed my eyes and dozed.
Images flashed through my mind. Uncle Valentine telling me they were looking for Surratt and Booth. Johnny handing me that handkerchief with SUNDAY written on it. Uncle Valentine carrying me out of the house. Mrs. Mary saying how the police were asking entrance, searching, demanding answers. Me running
"You'd best get in that bed," she advised. "That powder is going to start to work soon." She was unpacking my clothing and putting it into the chiffonier.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"Lincoln," she said. "It's so terrible. They closed the schools. Nobody knows what's really happened yet. They're saying it's a Confederate plot. There are thirty thousand Confederate soldiers in town on parole after Lee's surrender. I came in case any of them were attacked. Your uncle might need me."
"Is it true about women being doctors?"
"Yes." She was hanging my dresses.
"Then why don't you become one if you want to? Uncle Valentine could help you."
"I'm part Negro. It's difficult enough for white women who want to become doctors."
"You look white."
"There is always someone who would find out. I don't wish to put myself through that. So I teach. And I help your uncle in his laboratory, though it's not supposed to be known."
"Why?"
"Dr. Walker is the exception, not the rule. Women don't help in laboratories in this country. We're very behind Europe. Oh yes, your uncle has been summoned to the White House."
"The White House?"
"Yes. The authorities want his advice. Likely about what to inject in Lincoln's body so it holds up for the funeral. He knows about that. And he wants to see the head wound. He's very interested in head wounds."
"He says he knows nothing about them."
"Not enough yet, no. But he will learn. He is doing some very important work in medicine. If you are going to live here, don't pry."
"I didn't say I was going to live here."
She gave my pillow a final pat. "You will."
The powder was starting to work. Rain was pouring down outside. Even through the closed windows we could hear the shouts of the people in the streets. "Kill the damn Rebels! Kill the traitors!"
"I fear for Annie and Mrs. Mary," I allowed.
"And what of this Johnny of yours?" She arched her brows at me.
"He isn't mine," I said sadly. "He never was mine. And he's in Canada."
"Change your clothing. I'll bring some hot tea."
I took off my wet clothing, toweled myself dry, and put on the dressing gown. It felt soft and comforting. My head was spinning from the powder.
Marietta brought up the tea. It was darkening now, so she lighted the gaslight. Then the bells started to ring, what seemed like dozens of them, from all over; deep and solemn, they rang, some from distances far across the city.
"The death bells for Lincoln," she said, "and it's about time, too. Your uncle said Secretary Stanton ordered them hours ago. Oh, that reminds me, if you hear anything, don't be frightened."
"Like what?"
"Sometimes Addie Bassett gets out of her room at night. She's locked in days, because the medicine makes her woozy. Nights she's allowed to walk around, though the rest of the house is locked. She's harmless, so don't worry."
"She's locked in days?"
"It's for her own good."
Of course,
I thought.
Like my being here is for my own good.
Marietta's smile deepened. "It is for your own good," she said. And before I could reply she was gone.
I drank my tea. I read a bit. I heard some noise outside and went to look out. Uncle Valentine's carriage was just going out the gate. Merry Andrews secured the gate behind it, then leaped back up inside and they drove off. Would Uncle Valentine take Merry into the White House with him? A dwarf? Why not? Tom Thumb and his wife had been received by the Lincolns. Oh, the world had gone mad.
It was raining in gusts. I was glad for the warm fire in the grate, for the rain had chilled the room. I leaned back in the chair and listened to the steady tolling of the death bells. I must have closed my eyes and dozed.
Images flashed through my mind. Uncle Valentine telling me they were looking for Surratt and Booth. Johnny handing me that handkerchief with SUNDAY written on it. Uncle Valentine carrying me out of the house. Mrs. Mary saying how the police were asking entrance, searching, demanding answers. Me running
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