Three days later, Rose was still waiting. Unfortunately, she was still wiping water from table tops, and she'd been asked to dust, sweep, and mop the floors, too. She grumbled silently that she always seemed to end up working as a servant of some sort while the Doctor maintained a loftier position.
In this case, he'd arranged for her to remain in the Seward home by explaining that she'd been his maid in England but that he would not require her services in his new home. Her assistance with Wilkins, and the kind support she'd shown Fanny, had immediately engendered positive feelings for her among the household. With Wilkins out of commission for the next several weeks, another servant had taken the position of driver, leaving a vacancy among the small house staff. A male nurse named Sgt. Robinson had arrived to care for the Secretary, and Mrs. Seward, along with two of the Sewards' sons, were expected shortly, creating additional work for the staff, which currently consisted of a butler named William, the cook, the substitute driver, and Rose.
Rose still wasn't sure precisely what she was supposed to do, aside from household chores. She cleaned and tidied dutifully; the job wasn't really difficult. She had been given a small room off the kitchen, too, since the Sewards believed she had recently arrived from England and had not yet secured lodgings.
She tried to keep her eyes open for anything odd or threatening, but the house was fairly quiet. Dr. Verdi visited several times each day, and a handful of official-looking men popped in from time to time to check on Mr. Seward's condition, but no one seemed sinister or alien.
Two days after the accident Seward's wife arrived; she'd been visiting her sister in New York. Visibly distraught by her husband's accident, she spent the majority of her time at his bedside, usually joined by Fanny and Sgt. Robinson. Rose brought them tea and hot water so that they could bathe the injured man in the hopes of offering him some relief from his pain. The laudanum helped, but it did not entirely quell the trauma of the broken bones.
The Doctor returned each day, too. Rose could see that he was anxious, but he refused to tell her the source of his unease. Perhaps he was worried about the Secretary; after all, he was an important figure in the government. But he appeared to be in no immediate danger from his injuries.
Within a week, the house was quite full. Frederick and Augustus, Fanny's brothers, were settled in downstairs rooms. Both men were in their thirties, but to Rose they appeared much older. They were always well-dressed and formal in mannerisms. Their concern for their father was evident, but they left most of his care to their mother, sister, and the nurse.
On Rose's fifth day at the Seward home, a commotion drew her attention to the study. She'd heard the knock at the front door and been vaguely aware of William's polite words as he escorted someone through the foyer and down the hall. She'd been cleaning in the dining room, but the raised, emotional voices beckoned her. Was something wrong? Was this what the Doctor had hinted at?
She hurried along the hallway then paused outside the half-open door. She listened as a newcomer told Augustus and Frederick that General Lee had surrendered somewhere called Appomattox. With relief evident in their tones, the men acknowledged that the war was over.
"He's done it," Frederick said. "He's held the country together."
"Send him our congratulations," Augustus added.
"I will," replied the stranger. "He's asked about the Secretary more than once. Mrs. Lincoln plans to call tomorrow to bring their regards to Mrs. Seward."
"She would be honored," Frederick responded.
Rose hurried into the sitting room as the three men left the study. She felt a vague prickle up her spine as she realized that she was present during a very historic moment. Maybe that's what it was all about; perhaps she was simply here to witness history.
The next day, however, the Doctor seemed broodier than ever. They spoke for a few minutes after he checked on Seward, but he was distracted and paid little attention to her idle chatter. After a short while, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the sonic screwdriver.
"Keep this with you at all times," he said rather gravely, making a quick adjustment. "Just turn it on it if you need it."
"How'll I know which setting to use?" she asked.
"You won't need to."
Perplexed and growing slightly alarmed, she took the instrument and grasped it tightly. "Doctor, what's gonna happen?"
"I'm not entirely sure."
"But somethin's wrong."
He raked a hand through his hair. "Just hang onto it, Rose. And keep your eyes and ears open."
With those thoroughly unhelpful words, he was gone.
Rose did not know where the Doctor spent his time. He'd replied to her queries with vague comments about "here and there." He disliked telling her overt lies, but the situation was a delicate one. There was very little he could do that wouldn't result in a complete upset of history. Yet he was clearly here for a reason.
He devoted many hours to strolling through the attractive, tree-lined streets in the areas surrounding the White House. He didn't know what he was searching for, if anything, but some small tingling sense drove him onward.
One cloudy, cool day he found himself on a road identified as H Street. Twilight was falling as he walked past a row of townhomes. Two men strode by, and, as he'd become accustomed to doing for the last several days, he gave each a cursory glance.
He was immediately struck by the handsome features of the younger man. Well-built with fine, even bone structure, he was the sort who would draw attention from both male and female admirers. Yet he appeared uninterested in the Doctor's gaze, brushing past him and bowing his head slightly.
The other man was somewhat older, perhaps in his early thirties, and did not possess the attractiveness of his companion. Indeed, he appeared somewhat haggard, with lank hair and a short, slightly unkempt goatee and mustache. He did not acknowledge the Time Lord, either.
The Doctor watched as they walked toward one of the smaller houses. A lamp had just been lit in an upstairs window. For a brief moment a woman's face appeared, but then it was gone. The men spoke a few words that he could not quite hear then slipped inside the house.
The Doctor continued moving, albeit it with slightly slower steps. A light mist had begun falling, and now several other men hurried by, returning home from jobs in the Capitol. More lights blazed in windows, but none could dispel the dreary feel of the darkening street.
It was time to see Rose again. The Doctor glanced back along the road one more time then increased his pace. It would be good to be near warmth again.
On Rose's sixth day at the Seward home, the cook pulled her out of the back pantry with instructions to take a tea tray into the parlor.
"Mrs. Seward's got company," she told Rose, gesturing toward the old apron the newest servant wore. "Make yourself presentable, and use your best manners."
Rose removed the apron and smoothed her hair and skirt. The cook handed her the tray then nodded in approval. She carried the tea service and plates of small sandwiches and sweet biscuits down the hall, pausing at the open parlor door for just a moment.
She could see another woman sitting with Mrs. Seward. They spoke quietly; the guest rested a comforting hand upon her hostess's wrist.
Rose stepped into the room with a deferential, "Excuse me, Ma'am, but I've brought some tea."
Mrs. Seward looked up. "Thank you, Rose."
"Would you like me to pour?" she asked.
"No, thank you." Her attention returned to her guest, who offered Rose a brief smile.
The middle-aged woman was plump, with dark hair framing her round face. She wore a sable dress and matching bonnet and bore herself with a confident air. Her eyes were sharp and clear, and Rose saw determination and strength in them.
"Will there be anythin' else?" she asked her employer.
"That's all," replied Mrs. Seward, shifting her focus back to her visitor.
Rose returned to the kitchen. The cook looked at her expectantly.
"Well?" she asked.
"What?" Rose wasn't sure what she was supposed to have seen.
"Now you've met her, and her driver says he may visit, too."
"Who?"
"The President, of course! You've just served tea to Mrs. Lincoln."
"Oh!" Rose grinned. "Didn't expect that."
"After Secretary Seward's accident, I'm not sure what to expect anymore, though I suppose things will settle down now."
"Suppose so," Rose replied agreeably. But as she idly rubbed a thumb over the small silver cylinder in her pocket, she didn't feel quite so sure.
To be continued…