"That much is obvious, but I did not realize that we would attract so much attention. I thought it was just going to be a quiet week with the two of us."
"It is your choice, my love. I do have tickets for a play at Ford’s for us on Thursday. Mr. Junius Booth is doing ‘‘King Lear’. And I suspect that Mrs. Grant will want you to join her for tea. As for the rest, I am as surprised as you."
She looked at the pile in total amazement. "What about Mrs. Armstrong? Will we be calling on her?"
"I made no arrangements, as, to be honest, I was not sure how you felt about meeting her."
"You know I want to meet her, Charlie. Very much so. Do you not want us to meet for some reason?"
Charlie had the grace to look abashed. "Well, there is the issue of you meeting with a well known courtesan. I was not sure if you really wanted to or were just being polite."
Rebecca chuckled and took Charlie's hand. "Think about it, my love. What exactly about our relationship is normal? There is no reason on the face of the Earth that I should not want to meet Mrs. Armstrong. Considering our situation, I would think that we should disregard what most people consider the social norm."
Charlie laughed. "I knew there was a reason why I love you so much, darling." He kissed her hands, and then continued, "Shall I invite her to join us for a private luncheon? Or would you prefer to do the inviting? I think she might appreciate the invitation coming from you."
"I would be very happy to invite her."
"Then let us go through the rest of these invitations and plan our week." He smiled and started opening envelopes. A number of them were rather normal invitations from various social butterflies, an unavoidable part of the atmosphere of Washington. But a few were certainly worth responding to, and a smaller number were politically mandatory.
The invitations from General Meigs and General and Mrs. Grant were graciously accepted, as was Rebecca’s invitation to tea from Mrs. Lincoln. They considered and agreed that politically, they could not refuse the invitations from Mr. and Mrs. Seward, nor could they turn down General McClellan. Perhaps the most fascinating invitation was from Mr. Jay Cooke, the Philadelphia financier. This still left them time to attend the play and a concert by the Marine Corps band, and to do some touring and shopping. Charlie and Rebecca quickly wrote their acceptances and politely declined the other invitations.
"With that piece of business out of the way, would you like a bath before we have dinner? Even though the General’s car was very nice, I, for one, am lightly coated with ash from the train."
"I think that would be wonderful and I would very much like a nap as well."
"Well, darling, there is a huge bathtub and hot water waiting for you."
"So there is. Now should I call for the maid or would you prefer to help me out of my traveling clothes?"
Charlie slid his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder. "You should know by now that I adore serving as your lady’s maid. Would you like me to wash your back as well?"
She lifted a brow at him. "Hmmm... maybe, darling. Would you consider washing my front, too?" She looked past Charlie into the bathing room. "Do you think the tub can hold us both?"
Charlie looked at the tub, then at Rebecca, then back at the tub and down at himself, as if considering a serious engineering problem. "I do believe it will hold both of us, if we are willing to be extremely friendly."
"I do not believe that is an issue with us." She grabbed Charlie's cravat. "Come, husband."
Grinning, Charlie joined her in the bedroom, where he disrobed his wife with all of the finesse of a skilled maid, ran the bath, and much more hastily shed his uniform. Charlie slid into the huge, claw-footed tub behind Rebecca and drew her back to rest comfortably in her arms. The hot water, the smell of Rebecca’s hair –– all of it was more than Charlie had ever thought she would have.
"Do you know, Mrs. Redmond, that I love you? I love everything about you. And I love it that you love me? All of me?"
Rebecca ran her hands up and down Charlie's outer thighs. "All of you, every inch of you."
The Willard staff extended themselves to provide Charlie and Rebecca with a lovely dinner. The Garden room was quiet and discreet. Each table was in its own quiet alcove, screened by plants and trellises from the other guests. A fine meal, with a good brandy afterwards, and the two retired to their room to explore the advantages of the bed.
--*--
Tuesday, January 31, 1865
They slept in, a luxury Charlie rarely indulged in, then rose and strolled about the gardens and streets of the neighborhood. Rebecca was particularly enthralled with the construction that had begun on the planned monument to President Washington. The great obelisk was not yet completed, and the war effort had suspended work indefinitely, but it was still clear it would tower over all other buildings in the capital city.
Charlie had reserved a small carriage for them from the Willard’s livery stable, so they were able to tour about comfortably, looking at the various sites in the city. As they rode down the dirt track toward Georgetown to General Meigs’ home, Rebecca marveled over how much progress had been made in just seventy years at turning Washington into a real city.
"I am surprised that you do not want to return here, Charlie. It seems to me that someone with your record and standing in the service would have many opportunities here in Washington after the war."
"I am sure I would have many opportunities. Do you think you would prefer to live here, dear? I had not thought of it, but if you wish?"
"Charlie, I want what is best for you. I love the farm, and I think we would have the best horse-breeding program in the state. But we must do what is best for you."
"My dear, we must do what is best for us –– and for our children. If living here in Washington appeals to you, I am willing to discuss it. But I am tired of the politics and the infighting. I would be perfectly happy on the farm."
"Then let us agree to this. We will keep the farm and remain there, but if opportunities should arise for you here, then we will discuss it again."
"That seems perfectly reasonable to me, dear. And there is always the opportunity to bring the advantages to Culpeper. There are so many things that we need to rebuild the infrastructure of the town –– a bank, more rail traffic."
"This is true. We will take things as they come. One day at a time."
"For now, love, we have arrived." Charlie pulled the buggy to in front of a rather standard townhouse. Georgetown was the last port on the Potomac River before it became too rocky for large boats to navigate it, a vital and bustling town for the past hundred and fifty years. Charlie helped Rebecca to the street, handing the reins to a post boy who had been waiting for them.
They walked to the front door, where once again, the young captain who served as Meigs’ aide met them and escorted them to a lovely formal parlor overlooking the garden at the back of the house. Mrs. Meigs apologized for not rising to greet them, as her rheumatism was plaguing her in the chill, damp weather. The General abducted Charlie to discuss a business matter for a few minutes.
"I declare, it is always damp here. In the winter, chill and damp; in the summer, hot and humid, but always damp. Be thankful, Mrs. Redmond, that you live in the foothills, where you are not plagued as we are in the city."
Rebecca smiled politely. "Of course Mrs. Meigs. Perhaps after the war you and General Meigs would be our guest at Redmond Stables."
"That would be lovely. I have heard that the country around Culpeper is beautiful. Tell me, can you see the mountains from your home?"
"Oh yes, very clearly. Our land is actually backed up against the mountains."
"That must be lovely. We have had to move about so often, being in the military, that I have had no real hope of establishing a family home like that. Why, I believe this house in Georgetown is the closest to a home we have ever had."