A/N This chapter is the start of a focus on Emily's motivations for her behavior and also the Confederacy's motivations for seceding.

Slight Mature Tag Warning: murder, death, slight sexual innuendo, and reference to slavery contained in this chapter.

Squee warning ahead: handsome, non-spectacled Alfred and friends about to make their appearance ;)

Ch. 4—A Rose Can Smooth Out Any Misunderstanding, Right?

Emily rubbed her neck as she rode in the carriage toward Washington DC. Even though Jefferson Davis's friend had given her dinner and an evening to rest before they headed for the city, she hadn't quite recovered from the trip: it had taken nearly a week by train to get to Fredericksburg—because she stopped to rest overnight and then to visit the Goodmans on her way north—and then it had been a 12-hour carriage ride with several change-overs just to get from there to Alexandria. Fortunately, this last leg of the trip would only take two hours, four hours at the most.

"So my husband mentioned that you are going to the city to meet someone pretty important. May I ask who it is?" Mrs. Johnson, the wife of President Davis's friend, asked with an eager expression on her face. "Perhaps I've heard of him."

Emily shot a dirty look at Mr. Johnson; he cringed and pulled at his collar. "I doubt that you know him," she lied. "He may work in Washington, but he's not that important."

Mrs. Johnson laughed. "I don't believe you," she said. "He has to be an elite member of Washington's social circle or high up in the military if you need Wild Rose to meet him."

"Now darling," Mr. Johnson said, touching his wife on the arm. "That's not polite to call her that."

Emily furrowed her brow. "Wild Rose? What are you talking about?"

Mrs. Johnson's mouth dropped open. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of Mrs. Rose O'Neal Greenhow+, one of the leading members of the Washington aristocracy and widow of the late and influential statesman Robert Greenhow?"

"Oh. Of course, Mrs. Rose Greenhow," Emily fibbed. "I just had never heard of her referred to by that name. My cousin doesn't use nicknames for close friends."

Mrs. Johnson pursed her lips. "I see. Well, then, I hope I didn't offend you."

"No, not at all," Emily said, smiling.

"Hmm," Mrs. Johnson murmured and looked out the window. Then for the next 40 minutes, she didn't say a word to Emily, which Mr. Johnson happily declared to the silent pair was an event that hardly ever happened.

"Ah, so you are Emily," Mrs. Greenhow said after reading the letter President Davis had given to Emily to give to her. She waved the letter in the air. "My dear friend, 'Jefferson Brown', has told me all about you in his previous letters to me." She smiled and embraced Emily. "Welcome, dear child."

She turned toward the Johnsons. "Mr. Brown used to live in Virginia. We knew each other through my darling Robert—God rest his soul," Rose told them. They nodded, seemingly unable to reply.

A servant came into the room and nodded to her. "Ah, it appears everything is ready for us now. Would you like to enjoy some refreshment in my dining room?" she asked. "I've prepared an early lunch for you because I assumed you didn't stop anywhere to eat."

"Th-Th-thank you, Mrs. Greenhow; that would be lovely," Mrs. Johnson stuttered.

Mrs. Greenhow motioned for them to follow her servant and then looped arms with Emily. "We must get better acquainted, my dear," she said to her as they walked toward the dining room behind the Johnsons. "After your stay with me, I'll need you to take some correspondence to your dear cousin. The Union mail is so unreliable these days."

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Greenhow," Mrs. Johnson said, stopping and turning around, "I believe I misheard you just now. You said the young lady was staying with you? Surely you meant she was going to be visiting with you." She gestured toward herself. "Miss Emily is staying with us."

Rose Greenhow didn't miss a beat. "It's not polite to eavesdrop on others, Mrs. Johnson, but no, I meant staying," she replied. "I'm taking the young lady out of your hands and into my charge. Her cousin's letter was very specific about that point."

Mrs. Johnson paled. "O-of course. Thank you for your hospitality and generosity."

"Think nothing of it," Rose Greenhow replied and the group continued into the dining room.

"You mustn't play this off as if it's nothing," Emily said. "I am indeed grateful to you for your help, Mrs. Greenhow."

Mrs. Greenhow patted Emily on the arm as they walked into the dining room. "Call me Rose, dear," she said. "The beloved ward of my dearest friend shouldn't have to be so formal."

Mr. and Mrs. Johnson paled further, but said nothing as they sat down and were served.

"If you insist, Rose," Emily replied. "Although, I feel awkward calling my elder by her Christian name. I am only in my sixteenth year, and you must be—"

"Emily, Emily," Rose scolded, shaking her head. "I feel as though I know you like my own kin. Such formalities are nonexistent for kindred spirits. Age means nothing between us." She leaned over and embraced Emily again for a moment and then released her. "Now, please have some food, dear."

After the Johnsons had left with a promise to send along Emily's clothes, Rose guided her to one of her spare rooms. "We should get right to the heart of the matter," she said, taking out some nightclothes from a chest of drawers.

"The heart of the matter?" Emily asked, still reeling from not knowing President Davis's plan in its entirety. She had not wanted to trespass on Rose's privacy by reading her letter or asking for a copy to read herself. She kicked herself for not thinking to ask President Davis what he'd written.

"Let me help you get changed, dear," Rose said, not answering her question. "You look exhausted from your trip. I suspect those rude Smiths or whatever-their-names-were didn't let you rest for more than an evening, even though you came all the way from Montgomery. Am I correct?"

Emily nodded. "They said there wasn't time and that they were anxious to get me here."

Rose guided Emily to turn around so she could start undoing the buttons on the back of Emily's dress. "Actually, they were anxious to meet me," she countered. "I know social climbers when I see them." She tsked at the thought. "Oh I'm sure they're in support of the Confederacy, but I can tell the difference between eagerness to get ahead in your social class and eagerness to help your Southern friends."

"But never mind them. Who is this Alfred Jones that Mr. Davis mentioned in the letter?" she asked as she continued undoing the buttons.

"He's someone I knew when I was younger," Emily said, trying to be both specific and vague at the same time. "His guardian—his older adopted brother, Arthur—had a government occupation that took them both away from South Carolina, and I was forced to stay behind." She mentally shook away the dread she felt at remembering her mysterious sleeping spells.

Rose didn't say a word; she just helped Emily slip out of her dress bodice and then her skirt. "If you are so well-acquainted that you consider each other childhood friends, why do you need my help?" she finally asked.

Emily's face grew warm. She's sharp, she mused. If I lie, I'm sure she'll be able to tell. "To be honest, we drifted apart years ago and I lost contact with him," she replied. "I don't know where to find him. I had an idea where he might be, however: Alfred loved his older brother, and I know that he planned to follow in his footsteps and work for the government."

Emily shrugged. "I have no doubt he fulfilled that dream, so he would be here, living in Washington," she continued. "But the problem is I don't know how to find him, and the new circumstances with my cousin Jefferson being President of the Confederacy would make it dangerous for me to come here with him or contact Alfred on my own. That is why I came here under a pseudonym and needed someone's help who had connections to the people and to the government but who wouldn't betray my cousin when he or she discovered who he was."

"I see," Rose said, her voice showing nothing that Emily could interpret from its tone. She untied Emily's hoop skirt and then helped her out of her petticoats."So if you drifted apart years ago, why did you decide to make up now, especially since you both seem to be moving in opposite directions?"

Emily suppressed a smile. Telling the truth made more sense than lying, and it would be easier to remember. "It's because of the recent unpleasantness—the war," she said. "Alfred loves his country and no doubt has already joined the military. If he goes into battle, I may never have another chance to talk with him before the war ends. We have differing opinions regarding this whole affair. I was hoping that, with your help, we might be able reconcile those differences."

Rose let out a small laugh. "I can completely empathize with you. It's crucial to talk about the important things before it's too late." She started loosening the laces on Emily's corset. "I regret not saying everything to my dear Robert that I could have before returning home to have my youngest." She loosened the last of the laces and lifted the corset over Emily's head, then set it aside.

She picked up the nightgown she'd taken out of the chest earlier. "Robert stayed behind in San Francisco," Rose continued. "He was walking down the street on a plank sidewalk and slipped . . . fell six feet straight down onto the street below."

Emily turned to listen to her quietly, only slightly noticing the cool evening air as she stood there in only her chemise and drawers. She rubbed her biceps but said nothing. The heat from her hands was enough for the moment.

"He hurt his leg," Rose said, her dark eyes distant as she remembered what must have been told to her by others. "He didn't write and tell me because he didn't think he was badly injured, and he didn't want me to worry. He knew I would insist on traveling all the way back to him regardless of it being so soon after childbirth." Tears edged her eyes. "He worried about me instead of himself. He died without ever meeting our Little Rose."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Emily said finally.

Rose let out a quiet laugh tinged with tangible pain and sadness. "It's been six years," she replied. "The pain lessens . . . but it lessens oh so slowly." She then noticed Emily was shivering a little from the cool spring air. "Oh, my dear girl, I'm sorry. Here I am reminiscing and you're freezing in your underthings." She quickly slipped the nightgown over Emily's head.

"It's all right," Emily said as she adjusted the sleeves and neckline.

"No, it's not," Rose countered. "I should not have neglected my guest." She started digging through a trunk and then pulled out a shawl, which she wrapped around Emily's shoulders.

"Thank you," Emily said, pulling the shawl closer. "Honestly, though, I didn't feel neglected. You have suffered far more than my getting a little chilled. To lose the love of your life and for your children to lose their father at such a young age—"

"It's not the first time I've lost a man who was important to me," Rose interrupted, taking Emily by the hand and guiding the nation over to a vanity. She pushed Emily lightly on the shoulders to get her to sit in front of the vanity and began pulling out the pins holding up Emily's hairdo.

"I lost my father at a young age," Rose explained. "He was murdered by his Negro manservant."† She smoothed out Emily's hair so that it fell around her shoulders and down her back. Rose's dark eyes had a different look to them than before as she remembered this loss. Emily shivered again, but it was not from the chill of the night air.

"My father was often out drinking and always took his Negro, Jacob, with him," Rose continued, playing absentmindedly with Emily's curls. "The men who found my father didn't tell me much at the time, but I later discovered the truth. The night my father was murdered, he and Jacob had gotten especially drunk. Jacob neglected his duty and let my father wander home on his own." She picked up a hairbrush. "My father fell from his horse and an old Negro hag told Jacob 'dead men tell no tales'. So following her wicked instructions, that slave picked up a large rock and smashed my father's skull in."

Emily stared. She wasn't sure what to say. This must be one of the reasons why she supports the Confederacy's cause, she mused. She knows firsthand the fears and worries many Southerners are feeling.

Rose shook her head, smoothed her hands over her dark hair, and inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry dear. You didn't need to hear such a gruesome tale like that." She patted and rubbed Emily's shoulders as she stood behind her. "I don't know what it is about you, but I seem compelled to tell you all about myself. You make me feel so at ease; I can't explain it."

Emily shrugged. "I don't know why either. You must have needed to share."

"Well, my point of talking about all that was not to make you uncomfortable, but to show you I understood you and your desire to connect with Mr. Jones before it's too late," Rose said.

"And speaking of which," she said as she played with the brush in her hand for a moment, "I've never heard of a Mr. Alfred Jones among the names of the young men of note here, but then, his name is not necessarily a unique name either. I'm sure my contacts will find out as much as they can about him as soon as possible."

Rose glanced at their reflections in the vanity mirror and smiled. "Now, let's get you ready for bed and as comfortable as possible."

Emily held out her hand to protest. "Oh, you don't need to bother with—" Rose began brushing her hair, sending a tingling sensation Emily had never felt before throughout her body and causing her to go into a stupor as a result.

Rose noticed her expression."Did your mother never take the time to coddle you like this?"

"No, I never had a mother," Emily said in a daze. She clapped a hand to her mouth, realizing what she had just confessed might seem suspect. "Well, I-I-I mean, I have been alone since I was a child, so it was like I didn't have parents," she added quickly. "Mama and Papa Goodman are as close as I have come to parents." She looked up at Rose through the reflection in the mirror, and instead of suspicion, she saw tears edging Rose's eyes.

Rose embraced her from behind. "You poor thing, losing your parents at such a young age!" she said, squeezing her tightly. After a minute of doing so, she stood and started brushing Emily's hair again. "I love coddling my Little Rose like this. I'll be sure to spoil you as much as possible while you're here."

Unable to protest such affection, all Emily could do is thank her.

"Finding Mr. Jones was not as difficult as I thought it would be," Rose told Emily over brunch the next morning. "One of my ladies knows a lady who knows a gentleman who knows someone he associates with. Ah, the benefits of having a social network." She smiled at Emily. "Now all we have to do is persuade him to meet with us, which I don't think will be too difficult. Many high-ranking officers and government officials often visit my home. If his connections are as you and Mr. Davis say—with the Washington elite—it should be easy to convince him to meet with you here in my drawing room. What do you plan to do once you meet him?"

"I hope to convince him to help with the cause of the South," Emily replied, hoping that would be a sufficient enough answer without going into detail.

"Ah, just like my dear Captain Jordan," Rose said, nodding thoughtfully. She took a bite of her toast and smiled. "We'll have to make sure you look your best when Mr. Jones visits."

"Look my best?" Emily replied, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

Rose sent her a sheepish look and set down her toast. "I must confess. This whole thing intrigued me so greatly that I had one of my ladies take me to see him from afar." She held out the plate of toast to Emily who took a slice and bit into it. "I must say you have good taste, my dear: Mr. Jones is quite the handsome one."

Rose pressed her index finger to her chin and looked up with a wistful expression. "I do think he'd look more mature if he was wearing spectacles, but the lack of them doesn't diminish his good looks. If I were you, I would get married to him as quickly as possible."

Emily inhaled the bite of toast she'd taken and began to choke on it. Rose patted her on the back for a couple of minutes while she coughed and gagged. "I b-beg your p-pardon?" Emily finally managed to get out.

Rose rubbed her back one last time, moved away from her, and poured a cup of breakfast tea. "Drink this. It will help your throat," she said as she handed the cup to Emily. She furrowed her brow. "Your reaction confuses me slightly. The reason you want Alfred to not fight for the North is because you're in love with him and don't want to lose him, correct?"

Tea went sputtering out of Emily's mouth at a second mention of a romantic relationship with Alfred. She apologized for her behavior and did her best to quietly set down the teacup she was holding, but it clattered on the saucer, reflecting how flustered its user was at the moment.

Rose blinked. "I'm perplexed now. My contact told me that Mr. Jones is only 19, a perfect age to be your beau, or at least, I assumed he was your sweetheart. Was I wrong?"

"I-I . . . Alfred Jones is a friend," Emily managed to stutter out. "He is not my beau."

"But you would like him to be," Rose concluded.

"I never said that!" Emily countered rather loudly. She cringed when she saw Rose cast a scolding look for her volume.

"That is, when we separated all those years ago, it was as friends. As far as I know, that hasn't changed," Emily continued more quietly, her cheeks tingling with embarrassment.

Rose regarded her for a moment. "Let me see if I understand everything correctly then: you traveled hundreds of miles and used your cousin's connections and influence all because you were afraid your friend was going to die in the war before you had a chance to reconcile with him?"

Alfred can't die, Emily replied silently, but I can't tell you that, so . . . she nodded and said nothing instead.

Rose sat for a couple of moments and contemplated Emily's silent affirmation. "I see," she replied. She then sent Emily a crooked smile. "Mr. Jones is extremely fortunate to have a friend who loves him as much as you do."

The heat returned to Emily's face from her previous feelings of embarrassment. "I-I am only doing what any good friend would do," she said.

Rose smiled and patted Emily's hand. "Of course, dear," she said. "Well then, let me give you the rest of the information my contacts gathered."

She pulled a handful of folded papers out of a cloth purse she had next to her and unfolded them. She skimmed over the first sheet of paper and then looked up at Emily. "Since you are connected to your dear 'Cousin Jefferson', I knew this must have something to do with the White House, but when I found out who Alfred was, my suspicions were confirmed," Rose began. "I don't know what his occupation is at the White House, but Mr. Jones is definitely close to President Lincoln."

She moved the first sheet to the back of the group and read the next sheet of notes. "He's also one of the more wealthy young men in the area; that is, my contact assumes he's wealthy since he seems to be able to buy whatever he needs or wants without any appearance of distressing over expense."

Rose tapped a finger to her lip. "It's not clear how he obtained his wealth or why he's not more well-known as a result of that wealth. Not one of my contacts seems to know." She furrowed her brow as she contemplated that mystery for a moment.

Please don't ask me what I know about that, Emily begged internally. I'm not sure I could lie convincingly enough.

Rose shook her head, dismissing the puzzle, and set down her notes for a moment so that she could pour herself and Emily another cup of tea. She moved the second sheet to the back and skimmed over the third sheet of billets. "I have to tell you that you may have your work cut out for you," Rose continued. "Mr. Jones seems to be deeply entrenched as a Lincolnite. One of my sources says he spends a good majority of his time either at the White House or the Capitol Building. This source also says he spends most of his time at the White House in the War office, which is interesting for one so young; I would not think a callow youth could be trusted with such matters."

She looked up from the paper. "I suspect getting him to help with the Southern cause will be nearly impossible. You'll be lucky to even get him to listen to you about the topic." Rose set down the notes and then sipped her tea.

I know that already, Emily moaned internally.

Rose regarded Emily for a moment before setting her teacup onto its saucer. "There is one thing I absolutely must know," she said. "From what I read in your cousin's letter, he seems to think that Mr. Jones was expecting you. But from what you told me last night about him and your reactions now, I know that's not true."

Rose frowned. "Tell me what game you are playing, Emily," she said with a motherly tone in her voice. "I want the whole truth. Are you a spy like me? What's your real goal in coming here? Why is there such discrepancy between Davis's letter and your words and actions?"

Emily's heart fell at these questions. She looked down at the meal in front of her. How do I tell her the whole truth? she lamented to herself. I can't tell her; she will think I'm lying. I have no choice but to tell her a half-truth. "You are correct in your suspicions: I didn't tell you everything last night. Cousin Jefferson sent me here as an emissary to meet with Alfred because of his influence in the White House. We hoped that Alfred might be able to make some progress where our peace commissioners could not."

Emily folded her hands in her lap and bit her lip wondering how to continue. I'm dancing awfully close to the truth about my and Alfred's natures and roles. "I lied to you last night: I didn't need your help to contact Alfred. I knew I could contact him by sending a letter to the White House," she said finally. "A few weeks ago, I wrote to him, and he replied quite vehemently that he had no intention of changing his mind about the war." She played with her hands in her lap. "I wasn't invited here by Alfred; that was a lie I told Cousin Jefferson because I didn't want to disappoint him. I thought that, maybe, if I managed to have a face-to-face meeting with Alfred, I might be able to persuade him to help us resolve the issue peacefully."

Rose's frown changed to a slight smile. "Ah, clever girl," she said. "It's wise to use the gifts God gave you to your advantage. It's what I do all the time with the gentlemen here."

Emily furrowed her brow. "God's gifts? I don't understand what you're talking about."

Rose said nothing, but instead scooted closer to Emily and cupped her face in her hands. She looked at the nation as if she was studying her.

Emily started at this. "Rose, what are you—"

Rose released Emily's face and then touched her hair. "Yes, we can do something with this to make it quite attractive," Rose said finally, interrupting her and tucking some loose curls back into Emily's loose up-do. She pulled her hands away and inspected Emily's figure. "The rest will be easy," she said, rubbing her chin. "It just a matter of clothing you in the right dress, one that will flatter your figure and tempt the eye."

Emily blinked. "Tempt the eye? How will doing that—?"

"My dear Emily, you've already tried appealing to Alfred's logic with a letter," Rose interrupted again, "and that failed quite spectacularly. So if you want to get his attention, you will need to appeal to his . . ." She gave Emily a once-over again, making the nation's cheeks heat up and tingle at the inspection, ". . . other parts instead," she continued. She paused to take another sip of her tea, closing her eyes and savoring it.

Emily furrowed her brow. Other parts? she thought innocently. The heat from her cheeks spread to her entire face. I must be extremely ignorant because I haven't a slightest idea what she's referring to. What parts could I possibly appeal to? This portion of the conversation is confusing me tremendously. I need to educate myself about men as soon as I can.

Rose looked up and noticed Emily's blush and set down her cup again. "I-I'm talking about his heart and emotions, of course," she said, coloring slightly. "Not—"

"Oh, I see!" Emily said, interrupting Rose before she could finish. "His heart. Of course." She let out a giggle to hide her embarrassment at not seeing the obvious answer. If we can get him to remember what great friends we used to be, maybe he'll want to have that back again and will be willing to listen. "Yes, that makes perfect sense."

Rose stared at her for a moment and then let out a small laugh. "Well then, let us not waste any time, yes? Once we finish breakfast, I want you to let your cousin Jefferson know you've settled in. His courier arrived this morning and is anxious to send some news back to him." She picked up a strawberry, bit into it, and then after swallowing, continued. "I will start arranging for you two to meet."

"But I still don't understand how you are going to do that, especially now that you know that I came here on the false pretense of being invited and that Alfred does not know I'm here," Emily stated, following her lead by eating a strawberry as well.

"Don't worry about that small detail; as I said last night, I am a most desired acquaintance for most of the Washington elite. Even if they don't care about being affiliated with me, they still want to associate with my connections." Rose smiled. "What I've learned about Mr. Jones being wealthy and socially well-connected only works in our favor."

Rose bit her lip. "I must warn you, though, the plan I have in mind might be a little embarrassing for you."

"Embarrassing? How so?" Emily asked, reaching for another strawberry.

"I need a reason for asking Mr. Jones to dine with us out-of-the-blue, so I'm going to create a story that you've come here for your coming-out debut. I'll tell Mr. Jones that you noticed him on the street and had a desire to get to know him better, so I offered to host a dinner party so that you two could meet under a chaperone's eye."

Emily's face grew warm. "Isn't that extremely forward of me . . . I mean, us?" she asked, doing her best to not choke on the strawberry she'd just eaten from a third mention of a romantic relationship with Alfred.

"Yes, but don't worry about it," Rose said. "The people of this town are used to my being forward and won't think anything amiss that those who associated with me have similar manners."

Rose sipped her tea and set the teacup down again. "Now that you have confirmed the suspicions I had last night after I left your room, I need to share with you a little more information. I didn't mention it because it didn't seem relevant at the moment and I was worried some of it might upset you," she said.

She moved the third sheet of notes to the back of the collection and quickly scanned the fourth one. "Mr. Jones usually associates with a number of young people who are as attractive as he is. I think it was reported that, while he isn't with all of them at once, these friends of his number about 13 to 15 youths. To put off any suspicions he may have about my invitation, I'll suggest that he bring some friends with him when he visits."

She touched Emily under the chin and smiled. "You'll have to compete with the ladies he affiliates with—there are several, all uncannily alluring I'm told—but once we get you in the right color of gown and your hair in an enchanting style, they won't be any competition at all."

"Competition for what?" Emily asked innocently.

"For making Alfred pay attention only to you, of course. Weren't you listening before?" Rose stated matter-of-factually. "If Alfred brings a lady he is interested in with him, he'll most likely give all of his attention to her. We must steal some of that attention; in fact, it wouldn't hurt if you managed to make Alfred believe he's fallen in love with you instead of with her." Rose sent her an incredulous look. "What did you think I meant when I mentioned his heart as our target?"

Emily's face erupted into the warmth she had finally calmed down from before. "I-I didn't think you meant that. We were friends once. I thought you meant if I managed to remind him of that friendship, we might—"

"Emily, how do you think I've managed to winkle out secrets from gentlemen all these years?" Rose asked, interrupting the nation's stammering explanation. "By being charming and alluring, by making the man I'm talking to think he is a hair's breadth away from making me fall in love with him," she said. "An enamored man is a talkative one, especially when he thinks you're captivated by every word he says."

She started to fold up her notes. "I'll do my best to instruct you on how to be affectionate and pleasant in a way that men adore and how to act like you're in love even if you're not." She looked at Emily and let out a laugh. "I have a feeling, though, you're going to be either a quick study or a natural at both."

Rose stood and stowed away the papers into her small cloth purse. "I predict we won't have much time for training though. If I manage things just right, I'll have Mr. Jones here by tomorrow evening." She then picked up a small glass bell and rang it. An older woman, with graying dark hair and cream-colored skin, appeared moments later. "Grace, take Miss Emily 'Brown' give her a nice hot bath," she told her servant. "Once you're finished, notify me. We're going to test out several hairstyles and have her try on several gowns until we find a combination that will make her look spectacularly beautiful."

Grace smiled widely. "Yes'm," she said. "This way, Miss," she said to Emily.

Emily followed her into a room where a large metal tub was sitting. "Charity, Chastity!" Grace called. In a couple of minutes, two identical twin maids appeared. They made Emily feel as if two blond-haired, blue-eyed Seraphim had descended from heaven to visit. "While I get Miss Brown undressed, you two start filling the tub." The two young women nodded.

"And use some of the Missus's scents," Grace continued, sniffing at Emily's hair and then pulling away. "We need to get rid of this fresh-from-the-road smell." The maids giggled, curtsied and then started their work while Grace guided Emily behind a screen and started unbuttoning at her dress's front bodice buttons.

"What are you doing?!" Emily cried, pulling away from the other woman and covering her chest with her arms.

"Taking a bath requires that you remove your clothes, Miss," she said. "Don't tell me you've never bathed?"

"I have," Emily said, her face warm. "I just have never had a servant help me undress for that bath."

"Well while you're Mrs. Greenhow's guest, you'll have us to wait on you," Grace said. "Get used to it and don't fight me on this." With that, she returned to helping Emily remove her clothes.

What have I gotten myself into? Emily groaned internally as she tried to think of something else to distract herself.

"Stop fidgeting, child. You'll be all right," Rose said as they waited for Alfred and his friends to arrive. As predicted, she had managed to arrange for a dinner with Alfred for the next evening, May 13. He had notified her of his intention to bring six others along with him.

Rose gave her a sidelong glance. "Perhaps it will help alleviate your nervousness if we practice again what you're going to say to Mr. Jones once you get a chance to speak with him privately."

Emily clasped her white lace-gloved hands together and swallowed, trying to squelch the nervousness the thought of speaking to Alfred after so many years caused. "Yes, please."

Rose stood up straight and pressed a hand to her chest. "How do you do, Miss Brown?" she greeted Emily, lowering her voice down to a tenor's and bowing slightly.

Emily tried not to laugh like she had the couple of times they had practiced before this and curtseyed. "It's wonderful to see you again, Alfred."

Rose looked at her and blinked. "I beg your pardon? Have we met before?" she continued in her tenor voice.

"Yes, we have," Emily replied. "Don't you recognize me?"

"I'm afraid I don't," Rose said. The evening before they had gone through the worst-case scenarios, and this was the one that worried Emily the most. Emily had been unable to think of a response and was told to sleep on it.

"It's me," Emily replied, giving the answer she'd managed to come up with. She touched her collarbone with her hand. "You used to call me 'Carolina'. We knew each other as children, remember?"

Rose gave her a slight smile and raised an eyebrow. "Carolina? I thought you said your name was Emily," she said in her regular voice.

Emily's cheeks grew warm. "Yes, Carolina is my middle name," she lied. "My mother was also Emily, so I was called 'Carolina' instead."

Rose nodded. "I see. Well, if that's what will trigger his memory and open his mind to listening to you, by all means, use it." She gave Emily a once-over. "We've done everything else we could possibly do to make him notice you, so hopefully something will work to reconcile the two of you."

Rose walked over to Emily and turned her to face the mirror in the hall. "You look like a man's dream come true." She handed Emily a cream-colored fan.

Emily unfolded the fan and admired the roses painted on it. She then looped its silken handle around her wrist and glanced down at the blue-green gown she was wearing. It was an evening dress, so it had a lower-cut neckline than a day dress would have.

Rose had selected it because it was perfect for flattering Emily's shapely figure. "It shows off just enough to tempt but not give it all away," Rose had said with a wink.

Emily had conceded that Rose knew more about this kind of thing than she did, but now when she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she could see that it did more than just "flatter her figure". It clung to the top part of her figure in a way that made it look even fuller and curvier than it normally did and showed more skin than she was used to showing off. I look like an adult . . . not as much as Rose or Varina or Mama Goodman, but I look like I'm old enough to be at least 18, she mused. In reaction to this assessment of herself, Emily saw her peaches-and-cream complexion take on a rosier hue in sync with the tingling in her cheeks.

Even the hairstyle Grace and Rose had chosen made her look of her amber-colored hair was up, but a few spirals of beautiful curls were arranged so that they fell down from the rest of her hair to rest softly on her shoulder and collarbone, and then to touch lightly atop her décolletage as if they were saying, "Hey everyone, look here!" Emily stared at her reflection, and the tingling in her cheeks spread a warm sensation over her entire head.

Rose noticed Emily's flushed expression and leaned in closer. "Yes, you look like you've had your 'coming-out' debut already," she said quietly in her ear, confirming what Emily had thought earlier. "There's no reason any man would suspect you aren't of marrying age." Rose smiled coyly at her. "In fact, I'm counting on that."

She moved away from Emily and pulled a piece of paper out of her purse, glancing at its contents. "Now from the correspondence he sent this morning, we should expect Mr. Jones, right about—" There was a knock at the door interrupting her. She smiled widely. "Now," she finished.

Emily's stomach clenched and she worried about losing her lunch from earlier. She pressed her gloved hands against the spot where her stomach was under her corset, willing it to stay calm and not empty itself right there in the hallway.

Rose noticed this. She reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a light squeeze. "Don't be so nervous, dear," she said. "You'll be fine; after all, Mr. Jones and you may have lost touch, but you separated as friends, correct?"

Emily gave her a small shrug. "Well, we didn't part as enemies."

"Then he won't snub you at this party," Rose continued. "He has no reason to despise you."

Emily nodded. Not me personally, she corrected internally.

"Once he recognizes you, things will flow smoothly from there," Rose concluded. She leaned closer to Emily. "Don't give too much away too soon, however; I didn't learn as much about his friends as I did about him, so we can't predict how they'll act if you talk about the Confederacy in their presence."

Emily's heartbeat thundered in her ears as she followed Rose toward the front parlor. When she saw Alfred, she thought her heart would leap out of her mouth. The photograph from Lincoln's inauguration did not do him any justice, she mused. Same hair and eyes as before, but something is . . . different about him. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, though.

She started slightly when she noticed that her face seemed like it was on fire, a reaction that confused her. This was just her old friend; why was this heat flowing over her like a gust of wind? Following the instructions Rose had given her yesterday and that day about acting like a proper lady, she whipped open her fan and tried her best to cool down. It worked enough to help her notice the six other guests, all who appeared to be in their 20s, standing in the room with Alfred.

"Mrs. Greenhow, thank you for your invitation," Alfred said, bowing slightly. He turned toward the other young people. "Thank you also for letting me bring my friends along. I'm pleased to have the opportunity to introduce them to you." He gestured toward a beautiful young woman with light olive skin, light chestnut hair, and hazel eyes that were tinged with green around the irises. "This is Miss Smith."

"How do you do?" Miss Smith said, curtseying.

Emily and Rose returned her greeting.

Next Alfred gestured towards a bashful young woman, who almost looked like a bisque doll with her pale skin, ebony curls, and deep green eyes. "This is Miss Levett," he said, "and next to her is Miss Hudson." The rosy-complexioned, blond woman standing to Miss Levett's left smiled at them, causing her dark blue eyes to sparkle. Emily caught herself thinking Miss Hudson reminded her of the actresses she'd seen in magazines. Both ladies then curtseyed almost in unison.

"And these three gentlemen are Mr. Alexander West, Mr. Franklin Cannon, and Mr. Charles Haynes," Alfred finished, gesturing to each of three good-looking men standing off his left as he listed off their names.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Greenhow," Mr. Cannon said, his voice inviting and majestic. He bowed slightly, causing his wavy brown hair to bounce forward with the movement. He pushed the spectacles that had slid down his nose back up so that they nearly framed his blue eyes. This allowed Emily to note that his eyes were actually almost violet in color. His fair skin only seemed to make his eyes stand out even more. His features were regal, but his body was large and muscular, a juxtaposition of contrasts that worked well for him.

"What he means is we're all excited by your invitation," Mr. Haynes chimed in. "I hear your cook is the best in the city. I can't wait to find out if that's true." He laughed and gave the ladies a wide smile.

He could be Alfred's cousin . . . if he had a cousin, Emily thought with a smile as she assessed the young man's appearance: his height, build, skin tone, and even some features were similar. His hair was a little darker than Alfred's and more of a sandy-blond, but his blue eyes were definitely like Alfred's.

"Be polite, Charlie," Mr. West scolded, narrowing his eyes at Mr. Haynes.§ He turned toward Rose. "I apologize for our friend here." Mr. West nudged the other young man with his elbow, reminding him to give a slight bow to greet their hostess. Emily noticed that when Mr. West bowed, a lock of his dark mahogany brown hair on the right side of his face moved to reveal a two-inch scar on his right cheek near his ear. It wouldn't have been noticeable if not for the fact that the scar was lighter-colored than his tanned face and skin.

He must have sensed her stare because he looked directly at her when he raised himself up from his bow. Emily's heart skipped a beat. He pushed back the lock of hair so that it covered his scar again and looked away from her.

Emily spent the next couple of moments trying to decide if her heart reacted that way because she got caught behaving rudely by staring at him or if it was because she was struck by the beautiful color of his blue-green eyes. She glanced at him one more time and decided that he wasn't what he appeared to be. He wasn't as slender as Mr. Haynes or as burly as Mr. Cannon; his structure was somewhere in-between the two body types, and the way he held himself implied a strength and grace that only an Indian‡ warrior could possess, which was odd because his features looked like a white man's.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen," Rose said, pointing her fan at Emily. "This is my niece, Miss Emily Brown."

Emily looked at Rose. They had agreed to call her by her pseudonym, but making her related to the Greenhows was a new element. Trying her best not to show her surprise, she curtseyed for the group. "I'm please to meet all of you," she said. They all returned her gesture, curtseying or bowing in return. Emily noticed Alfred took a bit more time to look at her than the others did, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Please join me in the drawing room," Rose said as she gestured out the doorway of the parlor. "To help calm my niece's nervousness with her first formal dinner party, I thought we'd dine in a less-formal style." They followed her and Emily down the hallway toward the indicated room. "Since there was going to be seven of you, I invited another gentleman to even out our numbers," she told them as they walked into the room.

"He said he might be late," Rose continued. She gestured at plates and food on two tables behind which Charity and Chastity stood, smiling sweetly like angels. "He asked me to let you start without him, so please allow my servants to serve you your meal."

"Bully for him!" Mr. Haynes exclaimed. "I can't wait. All your food looks larrapin'."

Mr. Cannon let out a moan of frustration and brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose in disbelief. "Charles, no slang please," he scolded quietly. Alfred chuckled, and Mr. West brought his hand to his mouth while the ladies used their fans in a similar fashion, all to prevent laughter from escaping.

Mr. Haynes looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. I meant, all of your food looks delicious," he said quietly.

"It's quite all right," Rose told him. "I can appreciate someone with a good appetite; my Robert was also like that. Please don't worry about it, Mr. Haynes."

The young man smiled. "Thank you, ma'am," he said, stepping up to the first table. The rest of the group followed his lead.

"It's going well, my dear," Rose quietly said to Emily several minutes later, hiding behind her fan so as to muffle her words.

"How is this 'going well', Rose?" Emily replied in a hushed voice. "So far, only Miss Smith has spoken to me and that was only to ask me how long I'd been in Washington and how I liked the weather. The rest are being quite antisocial." She gestured over to Alfred and his friends. They were clustering all together and talking.

"It's going well because that's the fifth time Alfred has glanced in your direction," Rose stated in a low tone.

Emily's cheeks grew warm at this revelation. He has been looking at me? Why didn't I notice? She glanced in his direction and caught him looking at her once again. He colored slightly and looked away to listen to Mr. Haynes tell him about something someone named "Ben" had done. He laughed and agreed that the man spoken of was always like that.

"I suspect that he remembers you, but he is not quite sure," Rose continued softly as she closed her fan and tapped it on Emily's arm. "Do not worry, dear," she whispered. "I'll help give you an opportunity to talk with Alfred . . . privately, if I can arrange it."

There was a knock at the door, and a few minutes later, an older, serious-looking gentleman entered the room. Alfred's and his friends' eyes widened for a moment when they saw who the other guest was. Several of the others then looked at Alfred. He glared at the new guest, clenched his jaw, and reflexively made a fist with his right hand.

"Henry," Rose said, moving towards him. She held out her hand. "Thank you for coming even though you have been busy as of late."

"I apologize for my tardy arrival, Rose," Henry said, kissing her hand. When he looked up, he saw Alfred and the crowd of young people and paled slightly.

Rose, either ignoring or not noticing her new guest's expression, turned to Emily. "Emily dear, this is my good friend, Senator Henry Wilson of Massachusetts*. He's currently Chairman of the Committee on Military Affairs."

"Please to meet you," Emily said, curtseying.

Mr. Wilson nodded in reply.

"Hello, Wilson," Alfred said, sending a smile that didn't reach his eyes towards the other man.

Rose looked from Alfred to Henry. "Why, I had no idea you two were already acquainted."

"Yes, Mr. Jones and I have known each other for quite a while now," Mr. Wilson replied to her. He turned to look at Alfred. "I'm honestly surprised to see you here; I had no idea you knew Mrs. Greenhow."

Alfred pursed his lips off to the side. "Yes, well, you see—"

"Mr. Jones is my new friend," Rose interrupted, looping her arm around Henry Wilson's arm. "But it's wonderful to know that you and he are old friends; you can help me to get to know this fine young gentleman and his friends better."

She guided Henry over to the tables. "Please have something to eat," she said. "You must be tired from all the military preparations you've had to do lately." She took the plate that Charity had put together for Mr. Wilson and handed it to him. "I hope you haven't had to personally organize all the 90-dayers. From what I've observed yesterday, there must be more soldiers in the area than one could imagine. How many would you say have gathered here in Washington so far?"

Mr. Wilson gave her a warm smile. "Well, I'd say we have about—"

"Wilson," Alfred interrupted. "How is Secretary Seward? I remember that I saw you meeting with him today in the War Office. That's why you were late, correct?"

The other gentleman looked at Alfred with an ashen expression.

"I don't think anyone in the War Office would appreciate you discussing military information with the common citizenry, do you?" Alfred continued.

Mr. Wilson shook his head.

"Mr. Jones, may I have a word with you privately, please?" Rose said, frowning at him. She released Mr. Wilson's arm and motioned with her fan toward an empty space several feet to her right.

Alfred looked confused but obeyed her by stepping away from the others.

Miss Levett crossed the room for a glass of punch and turned towards Emily. "Where are you visiting from, Miss Brown?" she asked her.

Emily was too distracted by her curiosity to hear what Rose was going to say to Alfred to concentrate on the conversation the other young lady was trying to start. "My family is from Delaware," she said, spouting absentmindedly the first state that came to mind.

"Must I remind you that you are in my home, Mr. Jones?" Emily overheard Rose scold him. "If you can't maintain a level of civility when talking to my guests—regardless of who those guests are or what they are conversing about—I suggest that you keep your comments to the weather and health of others or excuse yourself and leave."

"Oh really?" Miss Levett replied to Emily. "Where in Delaware?"

Alfred looked sheepish. "I apologize. I forgot myself." He paused for a moment. "However, it is widely known that you, Mrs. Greenhow, sympathize with the Confederacy," he continued. "So as a good friend of Mr. Wilson, I hope you don't mind if I ask you to do the same and not ask him any more questions about the military or the war effort." He looked steadfastly at her. "It would make things uncomfortable for all present if you persisted."

Emily's heart thudded in her chest. Why does that request feel like a threat?

"Miss Brown?" Miss Levett persisted.

Rose smiled at Alfred. "Of course, Mr. Jones."

"Miss Brown," Miss Levett called again a little more loudly than before.

Emily turned toward the other young woman. "Yes?" Heat flowed through her cheeks when she realized she had no idea why the other woman was calling her name.

Miss Levett smiled. "Where in Delaware? I, uh . . ." She glanced at Mr. West. ". . . know someone from there."

Emily froze. What was I thinking? I don't know that state very well. Then she recalled that Dorothea had often mentioned some family in one of the towns. "Wilmington," she replied finally. "Excuse me; I need to speak with my aunt." Miss Levett nodded and Emily turned her attention towards Rose.

Rose had returned to Mr. Wilson, looping her arm around his again. "I apologize about neglecting you, Henry dear. Mr. Jones has just explained to me that I should not compromise your position by asking you questions that may be militarily sensitive. He doesn't understand that I was merely concerned about all our boys out in the recent wet weather. The rain must have soaked the poor dears clear through during their training and maybe even slowed down the movements of the troops, correct?"

"Mrs. Greenhow!" Alfred interjected loudly.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Jones?" she replied, turning to look at him with an innocent expression on her face. "I'm merely discussing the weather as you requested."

Alfred's face crimsoned and he looked like he was ready to explode.

Mr. Cannon moved to grab Alfred by the arm. "Please excuse us for a moment, madam," he said to Rose. "I need to discuss something with Mr. Jones privately." He looked at Mr. Wilson. "Mr. Wilson, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind joining Mr. Haynes and Mr. West. They have a few questions they need to ask you. I apologize for mixing work with pleasure, but the matter won't wait."

Mr. Wilson nodded. He turned towards Rose and brought her hand up to his lips. "Excuse me, Rose. Duty calls." He then moved toward the other men. Mr. Haynes looked bewildered at the turn of events, but Mr. West nodded at Mr. Cannon and then proceeded to quietly speak with Mr. Wilson.

Satisfied, Mr. Cannon then tugged on Alfred's arm and led him out of the room. Emily's stomach clenched when she sensed an awkward silence from the women in the room. The only sound that could be heard was the distant rumble of thunder and the pattering of rain as it hit the drawing room windows. Emily became suddenly uncertain if she should continue towards Rose or return to talk some more with Miss Levett.

"That reminds me, Emily," Rose said, moving to loop her arms with the nation. "There was something I wished to discuss with you in the other room. I apologize to all of you as well for depriving you of your hostesses; the matter I need to relate also won't wait. Please excuse us both; I shall return shortly." She then guided Emily out of the drawing room and towards the back parlor.

"You must forgive me, dear, for causing that scene," Rose said as soon as they were out of the others' earshot. They could hear Mr. Cannon's scolding tone near the front of the house, but they were far enough away to avoid being overheard by the two men. "The truth is I discovered this morning that the Secret Service was getting a little too close to detecting who one of my contacts inside the White House was, and I needed to throw suspicion onto Mr. Wilson."

"But I thought he was your friend," Emily said.

"He is a good friend, true, but he's also a staunch abolitionist, Lincolnite, and far too friendly for a married man," Rose countered. "That entire exchange of words I had with Henry and with Mr. Jones could not have worked more perfectly. I intentionally baited Mr. Jones and the others into suspecting Henry as one of my contacts."

"I see," Emily said. "Well, then there's nothing for me to forgive. I understand you have your obligations to your network. But it's likely that Mr. Wilson didn't appreciate you calling that kind of attention to him, right? Are you all right with him hating you?"

Rose let out a soft laugh. "I doubt Henry will allow any accusations the others send his way to stand. He would never let the suspicions of a few young people take him down politically. But it will shift the focus off of my contact enough that he'll be able to breathe easier."

"Oh, I see," Emily said.

She sent Emily a wry smile. "Besides, I doubt Henry understood what I was doing, and even if he did, I'll tell him that I didn't mean for it to go the way it did and then ask his forgiveness. I know he'll forgive me. Henry is kind, gentle, and unvindictive even if he is a bit of a . . . well, he is what we dignified ladies call a 'roué' if you get my meaning."

"But the reason I was apologizing wasn't because of that," Rose continued as they entered the back parlor. "It was because I was so focused on accomplishing my goal that I forgot to help you with Mr. Jones, and I fear I may have upset him in the process of obtaining my objective. I hope that he hasn't decided to leave before I can arrange a private meeting with him for you." Rose released Emily's arm. "Will you wait here until I see if I can convince him to meet with you?"

Emily nodded. "I will give you all the time you need."

After Rose left, Emily took the time to look around the room since she hadn't been in that part of the house yet. There was an ornate mirror over the fireplace mantel, which made room look bigger. The sofa and chairs in the room were upholstered with a rich burgundy-colored velvet cloth. The wallpaper was a pretty dark red rose pattern on ivory and complemented the furnishings. All over the walls were framed photos of people Emily assumed were family. Finally, the small tables around the room were decorated with trinkets and heirlooms, and one of them had a vase with some tiny bluish-purple irises in it. Emily walked over to this table and leaned over to smell the delicate blooms.

"No, I will not brook any protests," Rose said as she entered the room. "I absolutely insist that if you want my forgiveness you have to ask it of my niece as well. This was supposed to be one of many coming out parties for her, and I wanted it to be a pleasant one; your behavior has marred the experience, especially considering you were the reason for the party, so you must take responsibility."

Who is she talking to? Emily wondered as she turned to see Rose practically dragging Alfred by the arm into the room. Suddenly, her mouth went dry and her hands began sweating despite the room not being that warm at all.

Rose glanced at Emily and smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must see to the other guests," she said, releasing Alfred's arm. "I believe have heard enough about you from my friends, Mr. Jones, that I can trust you alone for a few moments with my darling Emily." With that, Rose turned and left the two of them to stare at the door as it closed after her.

A/N

Translations:

billet – (archaic) A short letter; a note

Callow – means lacking experience of life, immature. Rose called Alfred this because she assumed (incorrectly) that he was like other 19-year-olds: immature, inexperienced, unsophisticated, untrained, and untried. She would have thought differently if she knew that he was actually over 200 years old.

Seraphim – plural for a type of angel, the name Seraph means "burning ones" or nobles. They are also sometimes called the "ones of love" because their name might come from the Hebrew root for "love". They have six wings, but they only use two of them for flying (they use the other 4 to cover their faces and feet, which they may do because, being so close to God, they would witness His full glory, which would be too powerful to behold. Feet are considered "unclean" and so not worthy to be shown to God. [Some scholars also think that "feet" could actually mean "genitals".] Their position is flying above God's throne, and their primary duty is to constantly glorify and praise God and be the personal attendant angels of God. The Seraphim are said to be the highest rank of angel, probably because of their close proximity to God.

Bully - (slang) hurray or terrific

Larrapin' – (slang) Very good tasting applied to something really yummy.

90-dayers – Because the Union expected the Civil War to last no more than 3 months and because there were restrictions on the number of men and the length of time they could serve that the President of the United States could summon (no soldier could be forced to serve more than three months in any one year), the 75,000 militia volunteers Lincoln requested to help the 16,000 regular troops defend the North were only required to fulfill a 90-day enlistment with an option to sign up for more time after that. The nickname derived from this. It is interesting to note that this enlistment call from Lincoln prompted Tennessee, Virginia, and Arkansas to join the Confederacy. Kentucky stated they would not send volunteers to a Northern army intent on subjugating their Southern brethren, but they also never joined the rest of the South in fighting against the Union either.

roué – a dissolute or lecherous man in fashionable society; a rake (from French, literally means one broken on the wheel)

brook – allow or tolerate

Historical events that happened during the time-line of this chapter:

(Emily traveled to Washington DC from May 1 to May 10):

May 5—Alexandria, Virginia: Confederate Army troops abandon the city.

May 6—Arkansas & Tennessee becomes 9th & 10th states to secede from United States. Jefferson Davis approves a bill declaring War between United States & the Confederacy

May 7—Riot occurs between pro-secessionist & Union supporters in Knoxville, Tennessee.

May 10—Union troops march on state militia in St Louis, Missouri, causing Southern sympathizers to riot.

(Emily visited Rose Greenhow, escorted by the Johnsons on May 11, and on May 12, plans were made to get Alfred to come to a dinner party in Emily's honor.)

The night of the party has a quite a bit of historical significance, seeing as it set in motion two events that didn't help the Confederacy (namely, Maryland becoming a "border" state, and the CSA losing a possible ally in England), so I'm going to give a little extra info about that night:

May 13—General Benjamin F. Butler entered Baltimore by rail with 1,000 Federal soldiers and, under cover of a thunderstorm, quietly took possession of Federal Hill. Butler fortified his position and trained his guns upon the city, threatening to fire on downtown Baltimore if Southern sympathizers protest.

Butler went on to occupy Baltimore and declared martial law, in order to prevent any further likelihood of secession. By May 21, there was no need to send further troops.

Many Marylanders sympathetic to the South easily crossed the Potomac River into secessionist Virginia in order to join and fight for the Confederacy. During the early summer of 1861, several thousand Marylanders crossed the Potomac river to join the Confederate Army. Most of the men enlisted into regiments from Virginia or the Carolinas, but six companies of Marylanders formed at Harper's Ferry into the Maryland Battalion. According to the best extant records, up to 25,000 Marylanders went south to fight for the Confederacy (so I guess it wasn't all bad news).

May 13—Also marks the day Queen Victoria announces England's position of neutrality (not a lucky day for Emily).

Historical Context/Notes for Chapter

+Among the most notable Confederate lady spies was Mrs. Rose O'Neal Greenhow. Captain Thomas Jordan recruited her into a spy ring just before he left the Union army to eventually become a general in the Confederate army. Because of her late husband, Rose was in a social position that gave her access to many officials in high places. She was attractive and charming which gained the attention of high-ranking Northern officers, congressmen, diplomats, and business men. She never concealed her sympathies for the Confederacy, and her personality was such that even this attitude didn't stop her friends, including Secretary of State Seward, Senator Henry Wilson, and many high-ranking military leaders, from visiting her. Eventually, she was jailed for her espionage activity, but she never admitted to spying nor implicated her fellow conspirators, so the Union had no choice but to keep her in prison. Ironically, this didn't stop her, activities; it just slowed them down a bit.

However, when she learned that she was going to be transferred to a Boston prison, she informed the Union that she would rather be sent to Virginia and give up her home in Washington DC than go to Boston. The Union released her and the same day she arrived in Richmond, she was visited by Jefferson Davis as well as many Confederate officers [this was the first time Rose had met the Confederate president; the Rose in my story was pretending to be close friends with him as a ruse for the Johnsons, just in case their loyalty to him wasn't as solid as they implied it was]. During these visits, friends convinced her to travel to England to ask for funds from British sympathizers and encourage English manufacturers to buy Southern cotton. She was successful in these endeavors as well and did everything she could to increase British support for the Confederate cause.

She returned to America fall of 1864 via a blockade runner. The steamer ran aground on a sand bar on the North Carolina coast on September 30. Fearing capture by the Union, she and two other agents fled in a lifeboat. The heavy surf capsized the boat before it reached the shore. The two men with Rose were saved, and they did their best to save her; unfortunately, she had her waist-belt filled with golden sovereigns, and the weight of the gold dragged her underneath the water. Her body washed ashore the next day. In gratitude for all she had done for the Confederacy, she was buried in Wilmington, North Carolina, with full military honors.

†My use of "Negro" is intentional. I know it's not politically correct to use this term, but it is the word that people used back in 1861 (and I believe it's the polite version of the word). I personally would never use this word to describe a person of color. I apologize if its use offends anyone; I'm just trying to make sure that my characters use realistic dialogue and vocabularies.

‡ My use of "Indian" is also intentional; I know this term is politically incorrect. In 1861, Native Americans were thought of and called "Indians" even by people like Alfred and Emily. This word is a term I am doing my best to eliminate from my vocabulary (when I was a kid, we played "Cowboys and Indians", but now I do my best to use the correct terminology). I apologize if using it in this fic has offended anyone; my use of with my characters was to ensure they had realistic vocabularies.

§ There are several rules/guidelines of Victorian society etiquette that Mr. Haynes, Alfred and others at the party broke:

-Do not use profanity, vulgar terms, slang phrases, words of double meaning, or language that will bring the blush to any person.

-Do not yield to bashfulness. Do not isolate yourself, sitting back in a corner, waiting for someone to come and talk with you. Step out; have something to say.

-Do not discuss politics in general company. You will probably not convert your opponent, and he or she will not convert you. To discuss those topics is to arouse feeling without any good result.

-Do not engage in argument.

-Do not interrupt another when speaking.

-Do not allow yourself to lose temper or to speak excitedly.

-Do not talk very loudly. A firm, clear, distinct, yet mild, gentle and musical voice has great power.

-Do not always commence a conversation by allusion to the weather.

-Remember that the person to whom you are speaking is not to blame for the opinion he or she entertains. Opinions are not made by us, but they are made for us by circumstances. With the same organization, training and circumstances around us, we would have the same opinions ourselves.

*Mr. Henry Wilson's name was tainted in 1861 when rumors began circulating after the First Battle of Bull Run (a.k.a. "First Manassas" to the Confederates) that he might have revealed to Rose O'Neal Greenhow the plans for the invasion of Virginia culminating in that battle. These rumors were not unfounded, though. As Chairman of the Committee on Military Affairs, he would have been a valuable resource to southern spy (and Washington society figure); in addition, Wilson (though married) had seen a great deal of Mrs. Greenhow before that battle. Many believed that while he was with her, he may have told her about the plans of Major General Irvin McDowell. This information may have been part of the intelligence Mrs. Greenhow passed on to Major General Pierre Beauregard. More evidence was stacked against him when Rose was arrested and it was discovered that she held a packet of love letters signed by "H." Fortunately, the letters were not in his handwriting, and it was well known that Mrs. Greenhow knew many other senators, members of Lincoln's cabinet, and other highly placed sources of information. After Rose's arrest, Mr. Wilson worked hard to establish himself as a trust-worthy individual. He helped raise a volunteer infantry and helped with other activities that supported the war effort. He eventually was successful in throwing off the stigma of his past, enabling him to be Ulysses S. Grant's Vice President for the president's second term in office.

In the most recent biography on Wilson, an alternative was suggested as the real leak: Horace White. The Chicago Tribune made Horace White its Washington DC correspondent at the start of the War. This permitted him also to hold the important post of clerk of the Senate Committee on Military Affairs (the same committee that Wilson was on), which position gave to him a remarkable insight into the conduct of the war and made him a great asset to Rose and her fellow spies.