The Impeachment of Abraham Lincoln by Stephen L. Carter

Author:Stephen L. Carter [Carter, Stephen L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literary, Alternative History, Fiction
ISBN: 9780307272638
Google: IbZGrIxhIGQC
Amazon: B006XWYGUY
Goodreads: 13530899
Publisher: Knopf
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

II

“I have seen those names before,” said Abigail. “I cannot remember where, but I have seen them.”

“Some of them are pretty well known,” said Jonathan.

“But I have seen them together. Not all of them, but at least three. Yardley. Caffey. Moorhead. Together somewhere.”

They were in the Bannerman carriage. Jonathan had offered, pro forma, to drive her home. Almost always, Abigail declined, usually on the grounds that her brother would be meeting her. Tonight, however, Michael was evidently busy, because she said yes at once.

“It will come to you,” Jonathan said, with perfect confidence.

Abigail scowled. She disliked being unable to live up to her own legend. Jonathan drove the horses cautiously. Yesterday’s snow was packed hard and, with nightfall, had started to freeze. To hurry would be to court disaster.

Near the shadowy bulk of the Smithsonian Castle, Jonathan drew in the reins, then slewed to the side to let a column of mounted cavalry pass. They rode in good order, and not hastily, and so he assumed they were not answering an emergency. It was odd to see so many of them at this time of night, but for weeks there had been rumors throughout the city of strange military movements.

“Do you miss Miss Hale?” she said suddenly.

Jonathan was surprised. “That was only—I was asked—”

“I know. It was your grim duty to spend time in her company.” She laughed shortly, covering her confusion. She had no idea why she had brought the matter up. “You must be pleased,” she said, a little desperately, “that her return to Spain has put an end to unfortunate necessity.”

Jonathan fell silent. Abigail sensed that for once her teasing had gone too far, that she had wounded him. It had not previously occurred to her that she might possess the power to do so. She would have apologized, but her mother’s years of stern instructions on the behavior of a lady prevented her: she dared not even acknowledge that the gentleman sitting beside her was capable of an emotional pain.

Gliding through the snow, wrapped securely in the blanket as Jonathan drove the horses, Abigail found herself remembering a story in Peterson’s Magazine about a young woman and her suitor, whom she despised, traveling in a sleigh that became caught in a blizzard. She was not really permitted to read such material, but she had snuck a glance anyway, at her older sister’s diabolical urging, and then read it again, and a third time, and perhaps a fourth. The tale had lingered in her mind ever since. Once the sleigh was stuck, the two young people wrapped themselves in the single available blanket. Previously feuding, they began to talk, then to nestle close, after which the editors coyly declined to “follow them through all the hours of that long night.” The editors added: “Suffice it to say that time sped swiftly, when on the wings of love.” In the morning, the storm abated and the young woman’s uncle came searching for them. He discovered them both underneath

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