Fates and Traitors (37 page)

“No,” Anna replied, startled, but after a frantic glance to her mother, she added, more calmly, “I mean, thank you very much, but I would prefer to see
The Magic Flute
.”

Junior smiled. “What perfect luck. Lou, you will have the honor of escorting my sister to see Mozart at Grover's, while Payne and I will
escort . . .” He made a show of looking around the table, where at the moment only two young, unmarried ladies sat, smiling expectantly. “Dare we hope that you are not engaged for the evening, Miss Fitzpatrick and Miss Dean? Would you have any interest in sitting in the presidential box?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” exclaimed Nora, while Apollonia nodded eagerly, eyes shining.

Mary muffled a sigh of relief. The young ladies would be too entranced by the performance and their luxurious seats to notice their escorts studying the arrangement of the box, whereas Louis would find their intense scrutiny strange, at the very least. As Anna smiled across the table at Louis, Mary silently congratulated her for her quick thinking, for diverting Louis's attention and taking the sting out of Junior's rejection—and saving the conspirators' plans from ruin.

Soon thereafter, the young people dressed for the theatre and went out, leaving Mary in blessed solitude to pray, to write letters, and to study her ledgers and bemoan the state of her finances. The boardinghouse did not bring in as much money as she had expected, and at the tavern, Mr. Lloyd was always demanding one expensive repair or another. For his work as a Confederate courier, which he did out of conviction rather than the expectation of riches, Junior received barely enough to cover his expenses. It was an unfortunate inconvenience that his commitment to serving the Cause rendered him unable to seek additional work.

If they could just hold on until the end of the war, Mary thought, and then she pushed her ledgers aside and bowed her head in prayer once more.

Later that night, Junior and Mr. Payne escorted Nora and Apollonia safely home, but after the two young ladies chimed their thanks and bade them all good night, glowing with happiness, Junior told Mary that Mr. Booth had called a meeting at a private dining room at Gautier's Restaurant at Twelfth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue. “We may be there quite late,” he said. “We have much to discuss, and time is of the essence.”

A thrill of anticipation raced through her. “I want to hear everything. I'll wait up for you.”

“No, Ma. Go to bed. I might not be back until morning.” He
quickly kissed her cheek and hurried off to join Mr. Payne, who waited outside.

Exhausted, Mary waited up until Anna returned safely home with Louis before she retired for the night. Twice she woke with a start, thinking she heard Junior come in, but the first time it was only a delivery wagon passing and second a shutter banging in the wind. At dawn she rose, washed and dressed, and went down to the kitchen to start breakfast, but the coffee was not quite ready when Junior came in through the ground-floor entrance, haggard, smelling of cigar smoke, and red-eyed from lack of sleep, his frown telling her at a glance that the meeting had not gone well.

She pulled out a chair and urged him to sit, and soon placed a steaming cup of hot coffee on the table before him. “For the first few hours we did nothing but eat, drink, smoke, and play cards,” he began wearily. “We were seven in number, including two men I'd never met. Booth held off until the last of the waiters departed at half past one, and then we got to the real purpose of the meeting, going over the plan.” He took a deep drink of coffee and looked up at his mother, grim. “I couldn't believe it, but there were some among us who were hearing for the first time that Booth intends to capture Lincoln at the theatre.”

Astonished, Mary sank into the chair across from her son. “Why didn't he mention it before? How could he expect them to prepare properly if they didn't know the plan?”

He shook his head. “He didn't say, and I couldn't ask, but, Ma, the news was not well received.”

“I would imagine not.”

“We went over the mission, again and again, changing this detail, and then that one, with men raising objections and Booth calmly reasoning them away, but one of the fellows—you don't know him—became angrier and more obstinate as the hours went by. He declared that he had agreed to take Lincoln in the countryside, not in a crowded theatre, and he didn't see how the new scheme could possibly succeed.”

“You and I have said much the same.”

“Yes, but not in front of Booth and all the men who have pledged to help him. This fellow complained about the delays, and the expenses, and then he pointed out that prisoner exchanges had resumed in
January, and so why should we risk our lives and liberty to force the Yankees to release the Confederate prisoners when it was already happening?”

“Doesn't he understand that we could ransom the president for so much more?” protested Mary. “A simple resumption of one-for-one prisoner exchanges will not save the Confederacy.”

“I tried to explain that, but this fellow was too far gone in his anger to listen. But he did accomplish what I thought was the impossible—he got Booth to agree to keep to the original plan, to abduct the president as he travels to the Soldiers' Home rather than from the theatre.”

“Oh my,” Mary gasped, wondering why her son did not seem more pleased. “But—that's very good news, isn't it?”

“It would be, except that this fellow, having won the battle, decided to press his advantage. He stood up, looked around the table, and declared, ‘Gentlemen, if this is not accomplished this week I forever withdraw from it.'”

“I see.” Mary inhaled deeply and pressed a hand to her heart. “Very well. How essential is this argumentative fellow? Can you manage without him?”

“We may have to.”

•   •   •

J
unior slept well into the afternoon, and when he came down to the kitchen and asked for something to eat, she was reminded so intensely of his four-year-old self, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he padded across the floor, flinging his arms around her waist and smiling up at her, that her breath caught in her throat and she had to close her eyes tightly against tears. Junior would always be her darling little cherub, no matter how tall he grew, no matter how daring he became. She believed passionately in the Cause, but she did not want to lose her youngest boy to it, as she had almost certainly lost her eldest.

Perhaps it would not be such a terrible thing for Mr. Booth's plan to fall apart before he could set it in motion.

The boardinghouse was quiet for the rest of the day, strangely hushed rather than peaceful, with no mysterious visitors, no clandestine meetings in the kitchen storeroom, no urgent commands to report for meetings that lasted throughout the night. Over supper, Junior unexpectedly asked Louis if his office employed couriers, and if he was aware of any vacancies. Somewhat startled, Louis affirmed that they
did indeed, and messengers as well, but he was not aware if they were hiring. “Would you like me to inquire?” he asked, and when Junior said that he might as well, if he didn't mind, Mary felt her spirits rising as she imagined her son safely and gainfully employed in a secure department of the government, even if it was not her government.

That night Mary slept better than she had in months, and in the morning she woke feeling refreshed and almost hopeful. At her last confession, Father Walter had encouraged her to practice prayerful resignation when life's course did not go as she pleased. Perhaps she was finally learning what that meant.

Then, just after she had finished cleaning the dining room and kitchen after serving lunch and had retired to her bedroom to lie down with her feet up, she heard a loud knock on the front door, and a moment later, Mr. Booth speaking urgently. Then came the sound of rapid footfalls on the stairs, and then voices, low and urgent, in Junior's room, followed by the sound of two pairs of boots on the steps, descending.

One pair halted outside her door; someone knocked, but the door swung open before she could reply. “Ma,” said Junior, striding into the room. “It's happening. It's happening now. I have to gather the others.”

“What is it?” Mary quickly sat up. “
What
is happening?”

“The abduction. Booth's plan.” Junior sat down on the bed beside her and clasped her hand. “He just learned from a theatre friend that Mr. Lincoln plans to attend a benefit performance for patients at the Campbell Hospital, not far from the Soldiers' Home.”

“When?”

“Today. This afternoon. Professional companies put on shows in a theatre at the hospital every Friday as an act of charity, but Lincoln has never before attended a performance there.” A strange excitement lit up Junior's face. “The way to Campbell Hospital follows almost the same route as to the Soldiers' Home, so the original plan can be carried out almost to the letter.” He released her hand and bolted to his feet. “I have to alert the others. We're meeting here at two o'clock for our final assignments, and then we'll be off. I don't know when I'll be able to contact you or when I might be able to return.”

Her heart plummeting, she scrambled to her feet. “Don't forget to say goodbye to your sister.” She felt tears gathering but tried to steady
her voice. “What can I do to help? Let me pack some food for you, at least.”

“I've had a rucksack packed with my gear for months, but food—that would be the very thing. Thank you, Ma.” With one last hasty peck on her cheek, he darted from the room.

Mary smoothed loose strands of hair away from her face, straightened her clothes, and went downstairs to the kitchen, where she searched the pantry for suitable provisions for a rough journey on horseback. She had assembled enough, probably too much for Junior to carry, by the time Anna joined her in the kitchen, trembling and silent, her face streaked with tears, her lips pressed together as if to hold back sobs.

Junior burst into the kitchen soon thereafter, dressed for the road. He embraced them both and murmured words of reassurance and farewell. Just before two o'clock, Mr. Payne hurried downstairs with his kit, tugged the brim of his hat to Mary and Anna, and followed Junior outside, where they waited beneath the staircase for the others.

Pressing her face close to the narrow gap between door and frame, Mary signaled for Anna to remain silent while she strained to hear Mr. Booth issue the orders. Mr. Herold would take the carriage already loaded with weapons, ropes, and tools to the rendezvous point along the road to Surrattsville. The rest of the party would take up positions on horseback in a remote area along Seventh Street, and when the president's carriage passed on its return from Campbell Hospital, they would surround it, force it to a halt, and subdue the driver. Junior would take over the reins and, with the others riding alongside and the president trapped inside, he would drive the carriage across the Benning Bridge over the Anacostia River. Heading into southern Maryland, they would meet up with Mr. Herold, move the president to Mr. Herold's carriage, and speed off to the lower Potomac. After stopping for fresh horses at a small village just beyond Surrattsville, they would wind their way through rural Charles County to a farm near Nanjemoy, where Mr. Booth had arranged to leave their horses and carriage. From there they would cross to Virginia by boat, and have Mr. Lincoln securely confined within Confederate borders within a few hours of his abduction.

The men dispersed. Mary's last glimpse of her beloved son was the
swirl of the hem of his coat above his boots as he ran off to the stable to mount his horse.

They had planned every detail with great precision, Mary told herself, slowly easing back from the door. Every man knew his part. The conspirators would descend upon the carriage so swiftly, so unexpectedly, that Mr. Lincoln and his driver would be overpowered almost before they realized they were under attack.

“Ma?”

Startled from her reverie, Mary turned to discover Anna standing before her, hands clenched, eyes brimming with tears, chin quivering.

“Oh, my dear girl,” Mary murmured, holding her arms out to her daughter. With a sob, Anna collapsed into her embrace, and they clung to each other, trembling from fear, too afraid for Junior to feel any thrill of excitement that the mission so long in the planning was at last under way.

“When will we see him again?” Anna asked when they had recovered from their initial shock enough to dry their eyes and compose themselves.

“I don't know.” Mary managed a smile. “I'm sure Junior will find a way to get a message to us from Richmond. When the papers announce that the president has disappeared, we'll know that the capture was successful.”

Anna inhaled deeply, nodded, and returned a tremulous smile. “I'm very proud of him.”

“So am I.” Kissing her daughter briskly on both cheeks, Mary forced herself to resume her housework, and she encouraged Anna to keep up appearances by carrying on as she would on any ordinary day.

But as soon as Anna left her, Mary's mask of proud confidence crumbled. She fought back tears as she prepared the evening meal, set the dining room table, arranged the platters in the center, and rang the dinner bell. Then, as she heard the lodgers descending, she slipped outside through the ground-floor entry and up the exterior staircase, and after waiting a suitable interval she let herself into the formal sitting room, now empty, and sank into a chair, trembling with apprehension.

“Mrs. Surratt?”

She jumped at the sound of Louis's voice coming from the hallway
behind her. “Yes, what is it?” she said shakily, raising her handkerchief to her face.

“My dear Mrs. Surratt, are you weeping?”

“I'm indisposed. Please leave me be.”

“But, Mrs. Surratt, something is quite wrong. When I came home from work, I found our room in disarray, and when I went looking for John, I was told that he and Payne rode off earlier this afternoon with five other men. What is happening?”