Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (23 page)

             
“Of course,” Abby responded.  Who didn’t know about Lincoln’s controversial decision to draft eligible men into the army?  She understood the bill was needed if the North would continue fielding an army, but it was a radical departure from the long American tradition of voluntarism.  Distrust of standing armies and centralized power ran so deep in the American mind that conscription inevitably aroused strong opposition.  Loud protests were being heard all over the Union.  There were strong charges being made that Lincoln was converting the North into a grand military dictatorship.

             
“Did you also know that a fellow with enough money can get out of the draft?  They can either provide a substitute, or they can pay three hundred dollars.  Either way, those with money don’t have to serve.” 

             
“I remember reading that,” Abby acknowledged. 

             
“Well, it isn’t fair!”  Paxton burst out.  “All the rich boys will stay home while the men whose families need them for survival will be sent off to fight that war.  Three hundred dollars is more than some of them make in a whole year.   And you know the worst part of it?” he spat.  “We’re going down to fight for those colored slaves who are coming up here to take our jobs.  Can you beat that?”  He was getting wound up.  “If it weren’t for those coloreds, we wouldn’t even be fighting this war.  Now they’re coming up here to take our jobs and drive wages down.”

             
Abby stared at him and was appalled at the hatred she saw in his eyes.  She chose her words carefully.  “You do know that Mrs. Livingston is actively involved in fighting for the emancipation of the slaves, don’t you?”  She couldn’t imagine her friend’s employees would be unaware of her intense involvement.

             
Paxton sobered quickly.  “I’ve been talking too much,” he said, urging the carriage down the road at a faster clip. 

             
Abby looked around, relieved to see they were out of the business district and climbing Gramercy Hill.  She knew it was known as the most aristocratic quarter of the city.  It still amazed her that her direct, down-to-earth friend lived here.  Her husband, Wallace, had done extremely well in real estate. And they had bought a mansion on the hill several years earlier. 

             
“Are you going to tell Mrs. Livingston what I’ve been saying?”  Paxton asked anxiously.  He shook his head.  “I know better than to run off at the mouth like that.  Sometimes I just can’t help myself.  I guess it’s my Irish blood,” he said ruefully.

             
Abby knew adding to his fears wouldn’t help the situation any.  “I don’t think it necessary to tell Mrs. Livingston of our conversation,” she said steadily.  She wasn’t content to leave it there, though.  “Do you really carry such intense hatred against the coloreds, Mr. Paxton?”

             
He had the grace to look uncomfortable.  “Sometimes I get so much anger built up inside myself that I feel like I’m going to explode.”

             
“And they’re a convenient people to explode on?”  Abby didn’t wait for him to answer.  “Wouldn’t it be better to take that energy and figure out a way to improve things, rather than wanting to take your anger out on a people who are struggling as hard as you are?”

             
“It’s not that easy,” Paxton said stubbornly. 

             
“I don’t recall saying anything about it being easy,” Abby retorted.  “Anything worth having is worth fighting for.”   She paused.  “We’re not really so different, Mr. Paxton.  I realize I have more money, but you have the vote.  There are many things you take for granted, which because I’m a woman I can’t have or do.  I’m sure if I looked around, I could find someone to take my anger out on.  I find I prefer trying to force change.” 

             
Just then the carriage rolled up in front of a huge brick mansion with large white columns and a sweeping drive.  Paxton pulled the carriage to a halt and stepped out.  He stood silently for a long minute but then looked at her steadily.  “I see what you’re saying, Mrs. Stratton.  I’ll think about it.”  He paused.  “I sure appreciate your not saying anything to Mrs. Livingston.  I’d sure hate to lose my job.” 

             
The front door opened.  “Abby!  It’s so wonderful to see you.”

             
“Nancy!”  Abby cried.  “I thought you were in a meeting.  I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”  She smiled fondly as her petite, blond friend hurried to give her an embracing hug. 

             
“They canceled it at the last minute.  I hurried home so I could meet you.”  Nancy turned to Paxton.  “Please carry Mrs. Stratton’s things up to the blue room on the second floor.”  Then she turned back to Abby.  “You haven’t changed a bit.”

             
“With the exception of several more lines in my face,” Abby retorted.  “You look wonderful.  Being wealthy becomes you,” she teased.

             
“Hogwash!”  Nancy snorted then laughed.  “Still know how to get me riled, don’t you?”  She grabbed Abby’s arm and pulled her forward.  “Do come in.  I have tea ready for us.  There is so much to talk about.”

             
Abby followed, trying to push away the heavy feelings she felt after her conversation with Paxton.  People were predicting trouble over the Conscription Act.  Would it be here in New York City?

Abby finished her cup of tea and set the fine Dresden china down carefully.  “I want you to tell me all about the meeting of the Loyal Women of the Nation in May.  I was sick that I couldn’t attend, but my business demanded I
stay there.  I can’t believe it’s been over a month.”  She shook her head then leaned forward eagerly.  “I hear wonderful things happened.”

             
Nancy reached for a piece of paper on the table beside her.  “Let me read you what Elizabeth Stanton and Susan B. Anthony wrote.  I’m sure you will agree it bears their unmistakable imprint.”  She cleared her throat and began to read. 

             
“At this hour the best word and work of every man and woman are imperatively demanded.  To man, by common consent, is assigned the forum, the camp and field.  What is woman’s legitimate work, and how she may best accomplish it, is worth our earnest counsel with one another... Woman is equally interested and responsible with man in the settlement of this final problem of self-government; therefore, let none stand idle spectators now.”

             
Abby smiled.  “They have a way with words,” she agreed.  “I understand hundreds of women came.”

             
Nancy nodded eagerly.  “It was glorious... especially if you have any desire to be on the battlefield.”  She laughed merrily then sobered.  “You know the meeting took place less than two weeks after the defeat at Chancellorsville.  Many of the women present had sent family off to fight.  Needless to say, with emotions running so high, it was difficult to find common ground.”

             
“Many of them thought women’s rights should have no place in the meeting,” Abby guessed.  When Nancy nodded, she just shook her head.  “There must be a way to balance achieving rights for all people without diminishing the fight for emancipation.”

             
“Some of the women didn’t even think that fighting for abolitionism had a place in the meeting.”

             
“What?”  Abby asked, astonished.  “Surely they knew it would be on the agenda before they came - with Mrs. Stanton and Miss Anthony running it.”

             
Nancy shrugged.  “That didn’t seem to matter.  Many of them felt our support of President Lincoln’s policies was the sole issue and all that mattered.”

             
“You’re right,” Abby chuckled.  “I’m sorry I missed the fireworks.”  She settled back in her chair again.  “Since I’ve been called here to work, I’m assuming it was brought under control at some point.” 

             
“The women who spoke did so with an eloquence I’ve never heard till then.  The speeches were direct and impassioned.  By the time it was all over, they had actually brought that divergent crowd to some measure of agreement.  The resolutions they adopted pledged their support to the government as long as it continued to wage a war for freedom.”  She paused then smiled.  “Here’s where you come in, Abby.  They also pledged to collect a million signatures for a petition asking Congress to pass the Thirteenth Amendment.”

             
“A
million
signatures!”  Abby exclaimed.  The very number stunned her.  She knew Charles Sumner had introduced a constitutional amendment forever banning slavery.  The Emancipation Proclamation had been a first step, but it only banned slavery in the areas still in rebellion.   This would be the step abolitionists had fought for from the beginning. 

             
“In light of the recent string of Confederate victories, it seems uncertain whether the measure can command the needed two-thirds majority in both Houses,” Nancy explained.  “Charles Sumner has asked for our help.”

             
Aunt Abby sat quietly well aware of the tremendous effort it would take to collect a million signatures from the North.  “What can I do?”

             
“We need as many women as possible who will lead groups of people to actually circulate the petitions.  We have been making contacts with women as far away as California.  We have a couple of women in Philadelphia, but none with the contacts you have.”  Nancy leaned over and took another long sip of tea.  “Will you help us?”

             
“Of course,” Aunt Abby said instantly.  “Surely you knew I would.”

             
“Why, yes, but one always likes to be asked,” Nancy grinned and set her cup back down.  “I don’t imagine you’ve heard from your young friend in Richmond?  I know you had grown very fond of her.”

             
Abby frowned.  “I think of Carrie Cromwell every day.  It breaks my heart to know that, but for this war, she would be living with me and going to medical school right now.   It drives me crazy not to know whether she is all right.  I have such mixed feelings when I hear of campaigns against Richmond.  I so want this war to be over, and I realize the only sure way to abolish slavery is for us to win, but I ache to think she is trapped in that beleaguered city.”  Her voice caught.  “I love her like a daughter.” 

             
Nancy placed a sympathetic hand on her arm.  “And Rose and Moses?” she asked.  “You wrote me about them, too.”

             
Aunt Abby smiled.  “I just got a letter from Rose last week.  She has a beautiful, healthy baby boy.  His name is John Samuels.”  Her brow creased.  “She hasn’t heard from Moses since he headed up into Pennsylvania.  He doesn’t even know he has a child.”

             
“One more question,” Nancy continued.  “Have you heard recently from that young journalist friend of yours?”

             
“Matthew Justin?”  Abby responded with a fond smile.  “I received a short note from him just a few days ago.  Of course, it was weeks old.  He’s down in Mississippi covering the campaign to take Vicksburg.”  She sighed.  “I know we all have to do our part during these crazy times, but I can’t help hoping this will all be over soon.”

             
“Don’t we all?”  Nancy murmured.  “Don’t we all?” 

             
“My turn to ask questions,”   Abby interjected firmly.  “How is Michael, that handsome son of yours?”

             
“I’m doing just wonderful, Aunt Abby,” a strong, young voice boomed into the room.  “It’s wonderful to see you.”

             
Abby jumped up and wrapped her arms around the strapping six-footer grinning down at her.  “Michael!  It’s wonderful to see you,” she cried.  “It’s also wonderful to have someone call me Aunt Abby again.  I’m afraid all of the young people I care about have been swallowed up by this dreadful war.”

             
“I’ve been lucky,” Michael said cheerfully, reaching down to pick up some cakes left on the tea tray. 

             
“Being a policeman in this violent town is hardly what I would call lucky,” Nancy sighed, rolling her eyes.