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Chapter Four

Five days later, alone in his study, Henry scoured the latest edition of Harper’s Weekly. The front-page article, entitled “The Murder of the President,” featured a full formal sketch of John Wilkes Booth. He looked poised and polished, much like he had the day Henry had offered him a ride.

Revulsion tempted him to toss the paper aside. Fearful curiosity, however, kept him reading. The article gave an overview of Booth’s family, acting career and known associations. “His companions have been violent secessionists,” the publication read, “and there are doubtless many others involved to a greater or less degree in his crime.”

Henry’s heart beat faster. The article went on to describe just how the assassin had carried out the murder, citing evidence of deliberate preparation. Details included everything from a small viewing hole bored through a door panel to the seats in the presidential box, which “had been arranged to suit his purpose,” either by himself, or “by some coconspirator.”

He read further. “The villain succeeded in making his escape without arrest. In this he was probably assisted by accomplices...”

Henry laid the article aside and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew full well what would happen to those accomplices if they were caught. The local papers were reporting on the vast number of believed conspirators currently incarcerated in the Washington city jails.

Next he picked up the Free American. “As the search for Booth and his fellow conspirators continues, authorities turn their eyes toward Baltimore.” The paper for which David Wainwright and his wife worked spelled out what Detective Smith had hinted at during the funeral processional and what the paper boy had proclaimed loudly from the street corner. A man by the name of Michael O’Laughlen, a twenty-four-year-old Baltimore engraver and former Confederate soldier, had been arrested.

“According to authorities,” the paper said, “O’Laughlen was visited by Booth here in the city the day before the assassination.”

Breath quickening, Henry read on. “O’Laughlen insists in a statement that Booth did indeed come to Baltimore to convince him to join his plot, but he told the actor he wanted no part of any such activity. He then told Booth to leave...”

Henry was fully aware of what Booth had done then. He climbed into my carriage, and I drove him to the train station. It is only a matter of time before Detective Smith realizes this.

Or did the man already know? Was that why he’d boarded Henry’s carriage the day of Lincoln’s funeral procession? Does Theodore Van der Geld know, as well? Anxiety chilled his blood. It wasn’t only the thought of his potential political protector turning against him that caused it. It was the memory of Rebekah Van der Geld’s eyes the day he had sheltered her from the crowd.

What will Miss Van der Geld think if she learns her fiancé is a lying conspirator? Henry then wondered if his indiscretion could jeopardize her freedom. As the national outrage over Booth’s actions continued to grow, everyone from the stable owner who’d sheltered the actor’s horse to the widow who owned the boardinghouse where he had met with fellow traitors was now in custody of the authorities.

The Reluctant Bridegroom

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