Mrs. Lincoln's Rival by Jennifer Chiaverini

life, home, and habits came under scrutiny, but none held more fascination for Kate than the accounts of his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln. She was said to be as graceful as her husband was awkward, her family as distinguished as her husband’s was humble. Mrs. Lincoln was well educated and refined, the reporters enthused; self-assured, vivacious, and handsome; fluent in French; and a fascinating conversationalist. She was a devout member of the Presbyterian Church and the mother of three living sons, of whom the eldest, Robert, was a student at Harvard College. Kate was as curious about Mr. Lincoln’s wife as everyone else, and she concluded that if the newspaper reports were reliable, Mary Lincoln would be an asset to her husband and bring dignity and grace to his administration.
    Kate suspected that in Washington City, Adele Douglas was following the newspaper reports too, sizing up her newest rival. As much as Kate liked her friend and wished for her happiness, she would rather see Mrs. Lincoln assume the role of First Lady if it meant that Mr. Douglas had been denied the White House. Mr. Lincoln was not as ardent an abolitionist as her father, but he was far better on the issue than Mr. Douglas, who seemed content to let the poison of slavery spread across the continent if it would appease the South.
    As November approached, the results of early fall elections boded well for Mr. Lincoln, with sweeping Republican victories in local and state elections in Vermont, Maine, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana. Then, at long last and yet before Kate felt quite prepared for it, Election Day arrived.
    On that momentous morning, Kate and Nettie accompanied Father to the polls and proudly stood by as he cast his ballot. “I hope you wrote in your own name,” Kate murmured as they walked home, and her father rewarded her with a smile.
    It was a long, anxious day, painfully reminiscent of the time in mid-May when they had waited with dwindling hopes for the results from the Republican Convention. Father had arranged for a messenger, the fifteen-year-old son of one of his clerks from his time as governor, to wait at the telegraph office and bring him the election returns as they came down the wire. By early evening, the boy had come by to announce that Mr. Lincoln had won the New England states. An hour and a half later he returned, and when Will, Father’s servant, escorted him to Father’s study, he was out of breath and so wild-eyed that Kate’s heart plummeted and she was certain he would announce that Mr. Douglas had won the presidency. Instead he gasped out, “Mr. Lincoln won Pennsylvania, and the Neil House is on fire!”
    Father bolted from his chair. “The alarm,” he muttered. Not long after he had sent Nettie to bed, he and Kate had heard the bells pealing, but they had taken it as an announcement that the polls would soon close, and had attributed the faint odor of smoke to the bonfires and torches of the Wide Awakes, Republican men who marched in the streets clad in uniforms of full capes and black glazed hats and kept vigil at polling places.
    “How bad is the fire?” Kate asked the messenger boy. The Neil House, the largest and most elegant hotel in Columbus, occupied an entire block on High Street across from the capitol and had hosted countless visiting dignitaries since it was built in 1842. It was impossible to imagine the city landscape without it.
    “Terrible,” he said eagerly, edging toward the door as if he needed all his willpower to not to break into a run.
    “Don’t linger to gape at the scene,” Father admonished him sternly. “I need you at the telegraph office.”
    “Yes, sir, Mr. Chase,” he said, and darted off without waiting for Will to show him out.
    Kate pressed a hand to her stomach and inhaled shakily. “I hope all the guests escaped unharmed.”
    “Yes,” said Father distantly. He had stayed at the Neil House numerous times while traveling on political and legal business before