Love and War

decision mean your husband changed his mind?'

'James knows nothing about this, and he won't until I decide it's appropriate to tell him. He will also know nothing about my calling here today — or in the future.'

'If there are any calls in the future.' That was meant to make her squirm and worry. She didn't care for it.

'There will be if you want the money.'

He leaned back, smiling. 'I need it. As soon as I have it, we'll be in a position to proceed.'

'I'll bring a draft next time we meet.'

'Bargain. By God, you're a find. There are damn few men in this town with your nerve. We're a matched pair,' he said, rolling over and bending to kiss her bare belly. This time, he was the one who fell asleep afterward.

Ashton had a box her husband had never seen. Into it went mementos of romantic liaisons lasting a month or a week or a night. The box, from Japan, was lacquered wood with designs inlaid in cleverly cut bits of pearl. On the lid, a couple sipped tea.

The inside of the lid pictured the same couple, but they had doffed their kimonos and were copulating with broad smiles. The artist had composed the design so that the genitals of both partners were distinctly shown. Considering the size of the gentleman's machine, Ashton could understand the woman's happy expression.

The souvenirs she kept in the box were trouser buttons. She had started her collection long before the war, after visiting Cousin Charles when he was a cadet at West Point. It was the custom in those days for a girl to exchange a little gift for her cadet escort —  sweets of some kind were the most common — for a prized button from his uniform tunic. Ashton entertained not one but seven cadets in a single evening in the smelly darkness of the post powder magazine. From each she demanded an unconventional souvenir: a button from the fly of his trousers.

Now, while Powell slept, she crept from bed, found the pants he had flung on the floor, and silently tugged and twisted till one of the buttons popped free. She put this into her reticule and slipped back into bed, pleased. When the button was safely in the box, her collection would number twenty-eight — one for each man who had received her favors. This did not include the boy who had initiated her when she was a mere girl, one other boy, and a highly experienced sailor with whom she had had relations before her West Point visit inspired the collection. The only other partner not represented by a button was her husband.

37

Washington had scapegoat weather that autumn. McDowell continued to be castigated, but Scott now shared the blame for Bull Run. And almost nightly Stanley came home with some new Cameron horror story. The boss was being universally scourged by bureaucrats, press, and public.

'Even Lincoln's joined the claque. Our spy in the Executive Mansion saw some notes made by his secretary, Nicolay.' He pulled out the scrap on which he had penciled the alarming quotes. 'President says Cameron utterly ignorant. Selfish. Obnoxious to the country, incapable of either organizing details or conceiving and executing general plans.' He gave her the scrap. 'There was more, in the same vein. Damning.'

They were taking supper by themselves; it was their custom, because, by day's end, Isabel was exhausted from dealing with the hostility of her twin sons, their resistance to discipline, and the near-lethal pranks meant to drive off the tutor she had engaged when it became evident they would never behave in a private schoolroom. She generally packed the twins off to eat in the kitchen — which suited them perfectly.

She studied the paper, then said, 'We've waited too long, Stanley. You must disassociate yourself from Cameron before they lop off his head.'

'I'm willing. I don't know how.'

'I've thought and thought about it. I believe we can be guided by what happened to that fool Frémont.' The famous Pathfinder, military commander in St. Louis, had independently declared all slaves in Missouri free. The declaration had pleased the congressional radicals, but Lincoln, still treating border-state whites with extreme deference for fear of losing them, had countermanded the order. 'There is a definite schism, and we must gamble on one of the sides winning.'

Baffled, Stanley shook his head and plied his fork. 'But which?' he said with his mouth full of lobster.

'I can best answer by telling you who I entertained this afternoon. Caroline Wade.'

'The senator's wife? Isabel, you constantly astonish me. I didn't know you were even acquainted with her.'

'Until a month ago I wasn't. I took steps to arrange an introduction. She was quite cordial today, and I believe I convinced her that I'm a partisan of her husband and his clique — Chandler, Grimes, and the rest. I also hinted that you were unhappy with Simon's management of the War Department but felt helpless because of your loyalty to him.'

Instantly pale, he said, 'You didn't mention Lashbrook's —?'

'Stanley, you are the one who commits blunders, not I. Of course I didn't. But what if I had? There's nothing illegal about the contracts we obtained.'

'No, just in the way we obtained them.'

'Why are you so defensive?'

'I'm worried. I hope to Christ those bootees hold up in winter weather. Pennyford keeps warning me —'

'Kindly cease your foul language and stick to the subject.'

'I'm sorry — go on.'

'Mrs. Wade didn't say so explicitly, but she left the impression that the senator wants to form a new congressional committee, one that would curb the dictatorial powers the President is assuming and oversee conduct of the war. Surely a committee like that would make Simon's removal one of its first orders of business.'

'Do you think so? Ben Wade is one of Simon's staunchest friends.'

'Was, my dear. Was. Old alliances are shifting. Publicly, Wade may stand fast in support of the boss, but I'll wager it's a different story behind the scenes.' She leaned closer. 'Is Simon still out of town?'

He nodded; the secretary had gone on a tour of the Western theater.

'Then it's the perfect opportunity. You won't be watched too closely. Go see Wade, and I'll order the invitations for a levee I'm planning for his wife and the senator and their circle. I may even invite George and Constance, for the sake of appearances. I suppose I can stomach her arrogance for an evening.'

'All very fine, but what am I supposed to say to the senator?'

'Keep quiet and I'll explain.'

Their meal forgotten, he sat listening, scared to the marrow by the thought of approaching the toughest and most dangerous of the radicals. But the more Isabel said — first urging, then insisting — the more convinced he became that Wade represented their means of survival.

Next day he secured the appointment, though it wasn't until the end of the week. The delay upset his digestion and ruined his sleep. Several times fear prodded him to plead for a different strategy. Wade was too close to Cameron; it would be smarter to approach the President's senior secretary, Nicolay.

'Wade,' Isabel insisted. 'He'll be receptive, because it's always possible to do business with scoundrels.'

So it was that Stanley turned up on a bench in Senator Benjamin Franklin Wade's antechamber on Friday. His stomach hurt. He clutched the gold knob of his cane as if it were some religious object. The hour of the appointment, eleven, went past. By a quarter after, Stanley was sweating heavily. By half past, he was ready to bolt. At that moment Wade's office door opened. A small, stocky man with spectacles and a magnificent beard strode out. Stanley was too terrified to move.