Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (29 page)

             
“Wonderfully,” Abby responded, slipping into her place at the sumptuously laden table.  Nancy, who loved to sleep in, would not be down for several hours.  Abby smiled up at the servant who placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her and then stared out the window.  “Dawn has always been my favorite part of the day.  It seems as if it promises a brand new beginning.”

             
“Here’s hoping for one,” Wallace said grimly, laying the paper aside.  “This blasted war had better end soon, or the entire economy will fall apart.”

             
“Real estate not doing well these days?”

             
“Oh, I’m doing well enough,” Wallace admitted.  “The rich always seem to have money,” he laughed.  “It took me quite a while to make mine, but now that it’s made it’s safely invested and protected.  My friends are the same way.”  Then he scowled.  “It’s impossible not to see what’s going on, though.  Retail prices have risen forty-three percent since the war began.  Unfortunately, wages have only gone up twelve percent.  I’m afraid there are too many people who have found their standard of living drastically lowered.  Too many are living in abject poverty.  That, my dear,” he said grimly, “is the formula for trouble.”

             
“You’re still worried about violence?”  Abby probed.  “I thought Michael told me everything was under control.”

             
“I’m sure it is,” Wallace assured her instantly.  “No, it’s not violence I’m afraid of; it’s what will be happen to our country.”  He picked up the paper again.  “Listen to this. 

             
“Conscription rides roughshod over the rights of the states and has created one of the largest standing armies known in the history of the world.  I would not give a rush for the reserved rights of the states or the boasted liberties of the people if this power is granted to the United States.  I fear this is part and parcel of a grand scheme for the overthrow of the Union and for the purpose of building upon its ruins a new government based on new ideas - the idea of territorial unity and consolidated power.  Arm the Chief Magistrate with this power and what becomes of the state legislatures?  What becomes of the local judicial tribunals?  What becomes of state constitutions and state laws?”

             
Wallace laid aside his paper.    “I’m afraid I agree with the fine Congressman from Ohio.”

             
“You don’t really think Lincoln is trying to frame a military dictatorship?” Abby protested. 

             
Wallace sighed heavily and reached for another piece of toast.  “Support for the war is fading, Abby.  People have had enough.  I’m not sure the government has shown enough capacity for effectively using the means it already has at its command to justify this infringement of states’ rights.  They are walking a very fine line.”

             
“Yet you support abolitionism?”

             
“Certainly,” Wallace said promptly.  “I also support the continued Union of our country.  What happens if we manage to successfully destroy the Confederate rebellion with our superior force?  Do we then send that force down to maintain control?  It would most likely take over half a million men.  What does that do to our freedom?”

             
Abby sighed.  “There are so many questions there just seem to be no answers to.  I think people are realizing more and more that the tide of passion has pushed them into a whirling cauldron of chaos.  There seems to be no way out, yet the only way to survive is to keep fighting.  If only we had been able to see clearly into the future before this whole thing had started.”

             
“Ah,” Wallace said thoughtfully.  “Hindsight is always so much clearer than the future.  The sad thing is that man never seems to learn from his mistakes.  If one would but look at history, there are plenty of examples that would have shouted the perils of unleashed passion.  But like so many generations before us, we chose to follow our hearts and leave the stones of the past unturned.” 

             
Wallace picked up the paper once more.  “I want to read something else to you.  I wish you and Nancy could have heard the governor’s speech on the Fourth of July.”

             
“I understand he was quite eloquent,” Abby replied.

             
“Yes.  Here is an article about his speech.”  Wallace cleared his throat.

             
“Governor Seymour is a strong Union man, as he has just proved by the vigorous measures just taken to hurry our militia units down to meet Lee’s invasion of Pennsylvania.  He is also a firm Jeffersonian Democrat with a passion for civil liberties.  His voice is calling out for the North to unite and help the war effort.  But, he said, this can never be achieved while the Republicans are trampling on individual rights.  The administration is pleading the necessity of strong action to obtain victory. 

             
Seymour’s response was direct.  “Remember this, that the bloody and treasonable and revolutionary, doctrine of public necessity can be proclaimed by a mob as well as by a Government.”

             
Wallace looked up briefly.  “I have fervent hope that he is not also a prophet.”  He continued reading.

             
“Pointing to the dangers of military dictatorship, Seymour called on his audience to maintain and defend the principles of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.  The Federal government should be obeyed as long as it does not clearly transgress its constitutional powers.  People must do their duty.  They must also insist that the government do its duty: uphold states’ rights, freedom of the press, and the independence of the judiciary.”

             
“I understand he and his cousin, the former governor of Connecticut, are calling for a cease-fire and negotiations for national reconciliation,” Abby recalled.

             
“Yes.” 

             
Abby was thoughtful for several moments.  “It sounds so wonderful,” she said regretfully. 

             
“But it’s too late for that now,” Wallace said bluntly.

             
“Yes, I’m afraid the lot is cast.  I’m afraid this crazy war will have to burn on until the end.”

             
“I just hope it doesn’t destroy everything in its path,” Wallace said grimly.

             
A heavy silence descended on the room.  A slamming door in the distance broke it.  Abby looked up, grateful for the reprieve, when Michael walked into the room.

             
“Got enough food there for a hungry policeman?” he asked cheerfully.  “I haven’t had a decent meal since yesterday.”

             
“If the police force knew how to take care of its men, you wouldn’t be starving,” Wallace growled, then looked at Abby apologetically.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just that the force works their men such crazy shifts that some of them go almost twenty hours with little to eat.  I don’t know how they expect men to do their jobs efficiently.”             

             
Michael just shrugged and grinned.  “It’s interesting to find out how most of our country lives.”  He waved his hand toward the table with dishes spread bountifully before him.  “I guarantee I’m the only one on the force who comes home to meals like this.  Not that I’m complaining,” he added lightly, piling his plate high. 

             
He looked up after several large mouthfuls.  “The force seems to be keeping everything under control.”  He looked at his father.  “Remember my telling you they were taking the draft down into the lower wards on Saturday?”  He shoved another bite in, talking around his food.  “Things went smoothly.  The captain sent a strong regiment down to protect the draft officers.  There was some mumbling and complaining, but no one tried to stop the proceedings.  The draft callings went on all day.  At the end of the afternoon, the workers simply closed up shop and went home.”  He stretched as a mighty yawn escaped from his mouth.  “I guess all those predictions of trouble were a lot of hot air.  There is another draft picking today.  The captain is certain there will be no trouble.”

             
Abby breathed a sigh of relief.  “I’m so glad.  This country has quite enough violence without it erupting in the cities as well.”

             
“Yeah.” Michael stood and stretched again.  “I’m going to bed.  I’ve been dreaming of sleep for the last day.  I’m about to indulge my fantasies.”

             
Abby fondly watched him go.  “You must be quite proud of your son.”

             
“That I am,” Wallace said heartily.  “Once he has this policing bug out of his blood I fully expect he will come to work for me.”   He smiled slightly.  “That boy is the light of mine and Nancy’s life.”

Paxton was waiting for Abby when she emerged from the
Livingstons’ house and walked lightly to the waiting carriage.    “Where to, Mrs. Stratford?”

             
“I’m going to visit a new friend downtown on Roosevelt Street,” Abby replied.  “I’m expected there for lunch.  I have some shopping I would like to do on the way.” 

             
Paxton frowned heavily.  “I don’t think you’ll be wanting to go down there today, ma’am.”  His eyes held a hint of fear.

             
“Why ever not?”  Abby asked, trying to hide her amusement.

             
Paxton shook his head, still frowning.  “There’s going to be trouble down there,” he insisted.  “I heard the boys talking.  The fire laddies are upset because some of their members got notice of the draft.  They think they ought to be exempt just like the city firemen.  They’re not going to just take it.”

             
“The fire laddies?”

             
“They fancy themselves to be firemen,” Paxton said sardonically.  They are really little more than gangs.  They link up with political groups, and then they look for exposure and excitement by putting out fires.”  He shook his head.  “You should see it down here when there is a fire.  A wild mob rushes through the streets with the engines, bellowing and screaming at the top of their lungs.”

             
“Well, at least they put out the fires,” Abby smiled. 

             
“Depends,” Paxton snorted.  “Those boys care more about winning a race with another company than putting out a fire.  I saw a bunch of them one time.  They didn’t have a pump that would throw a stream high enough to put out a fire in a store.  They refused to make way for another engine that could have done the job.”  He shook his head.  “Those boys have been known to break in and ransack buildings near fires.  Some have been known to start the fires themselves, just to have a little excitement.” He turned in his seat and fixed Abby with a frightened stare.  “They aren’t anyone to be messing with, Mrs. Stratford.”

             
“Nonsense,” Abby said crisply.  “The police are more than competent to take care of any trouble.  I intend to go visit my friend.  Please take me to the Lord and Taylor store on the corner of Grand and Chrystie.  I need to buy a few things to send home.  Then we’ll proceed on to Roosevelt Street.”

             
“Roosevelt Street?”  Paxton muttered reluctantly.  “I’m not sure I’m familiar with that.”

             
“It’s down in one of the black sections of town,” Abby said casually.  She held up a sheet of paper.  “I have directions.”

             
Paxton whitened.  “Please, Mrs. Stratford.  Don’t go down there today.  Especially not into the black section.  If there’s trouble, it will be worse there.”  Sweat broke out on his forehead.  “It won’t be safe for anyone down there.”

             
“Oh, what utter nonsense,” Abby said merrily.  “I appreciate your concern, Paxton, but I simply must insist you stop this.  Michael assures me the situation in the city is quite under control.”  She stepped into the carriage.  “May we please go now?” 

             
Paxton looked as if he were going to refuse but then abruptly nodded his head.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered under his breath.