Mrs. Lincoln's Rival by Jennifer Chiaverini Page A

becoming governor, and in the years since, he had attended more meetings and luncheons there than Kate could count. Its public rooms were so lively with political activity that some wags claimed it was the real capitol. If the blaze was as bad as the messenger said, at that moment, a significant part of Columbus history was turning to ashes.
    Abruptly Father turned and strode from the library.
    “Father?” Kate called, hurrying after him. She caught up to him in the front foyer, where he had summoned Will to bring his coat. “Where are you going?”
    “To observe the progress of the fire.”
    “I’ll come with you.”
    “No, Katie.” He slipped his arms into the coat as Will held it open. “It’s too dangerous.”
    “I’ll stay well back from the flames.” She gestured to Will to fetch her wraps too, but he hesitated, glancing from her to Father and back, unwilling to displease either of them.
    “I was referring not to the flames but to the thick smoke, and its effect on your weak lungs.”
    “I don’t have weak lungs,” Kate replied, a trifle sharply. She had suffered more than the usual childhood ailments, perhaps, but that was years ago, and her lungs were as robust as anyone’s. “I need a distraction as much as you.”
    “Katie—” Father broke off and regarded her with mild exasperation. Then he relented, and after admonishing her that she must cover her nose and mouth with a handkerchief and be certain not to get in the way of the men fighting the blaze, he told her to put on her wraps. She did so, and within minutes they were hurrying off down State Street west toward the capitol.
    From a distance, they saw dark smoke rising above the trees and rooftops and churning into the night sky. As they hurried closer, they heard the roaring and snapping of the blaze. Shock brought them to an abrupt halt when they reached the corner of State and Third, for across the Capitol Square grounds they saw the Neil House engulfed in flames.
    All the fire companies had come out, dozens upon dozens of men racing to subdue the blaze, but it seemed impossible that they could succeed. Five stories of black walnut, Kate thought numbly. More than three hundred suites. Beautifully appointed lobbies and sitting rooms, the site of countless political debates and negotiations and immeasurable intrigue. Ashes to ashes, she thought. Dust to dust. So everything ends.
    Her eyes stinging from smoke, she turned her head away to blink and to clear her throat, and it was then that she noticed the men milling about on the capitol grounds, a few in their nightclothes, and several women and children too. An aged woman wept and clung to a white-bearded man, likely her husband, but as Kate took an instinctive step toward her, a woman in her middle years ran up and embraced them both, her face a study of fright and relief.
    “It is both glorious and terrible, is it not?” her father said at her side.
    Kate glanced up at him, startled, uncertain whether she had heard him correctly. She saw nothing glorious in the destruction and terror roaring like a monstrous, ravenous beast in the heart of the city. “How do you mean?”
    “It is grand to see the fire gradually prevail over the enormous ruin,” he said, his gaze fixed on the conflagration. “It is sickening to feel human impotence to avert the devastation. See, look there—burning embers are drifting on the hot wind raised by the flames, and they fall upon the roof of the Odeon Theater. The Neil House is lost. All we can hope now is that the fire will be extinguished before it spreads.”
    Kate stared at him a moment before turning her gaze back to the inferno. “You don’t suppose . . .” She hesitated. “Surely this was an accident?”
    He threw her a curious look. “We have no reason to believe it was not. When the fire is extinguished, the authorities will examine the ruins and determine the cause.” He tucked her hand through his arm. “You needn’t fear that a mad