All Through the Night Page 3

  Stephen Dodd stood, his gray eyes alight with pleasure, dark hair gleaming from the sunlight seeping through the curtained window. “Miss Piper, forgive my unexpected call.”

  “No need to apologize, Mr. Dodd. I trust you are well?”

  “Quite well now.” He smiled and her hands felt oddly clammy. “How lovely you look this afternoon.”

  She dropped her gaze to the flower-patterned rug. “You’re very kind. I fear you caught me unpacking the last of our belongings.”

  “Anything I can do to lend my assistance?”

  “Thank you, no. Louisa is finishing my task.” Ill at ease, she gestured to the chairs. “Please, take a seat.”

  He settled into a stiff-backed upholstered chair. She sat across from him and smoothed her skirts as an uncomfortable silence descended. What could he possibly want with her? The soft ticking of the mantel clock counted off the seconds.

  Tick, tick, tick, tick . . .

  Finally he cleared his throat and offered a tight laugh. “I don’t recall ever being this nervous.” He cast her a sideways glance. “I fear you tie my tongue in knots, Miss Piper.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me, Mr. Dodd.”

  “Please, call me Stephen.”

  She nodded. “All right. Stephen. Only if you call me C-C-Cadence.” She winced. Not now, of all times . . .

  He seemed not to notice her nervous tongue. “I confess I’ve rarely met someone who has so entranced me as you have. From the moment you walked into our home last evening, I was smitten.”

  Her breath thinned at his blunt confession.

  His gray eyes filled with earnestness. “I’m aware we know nothing of each other. Not yet, but—” he leaned forward and reached for her hand, lightly gripping her fingers between his—“but I would very much like to know you more.”

  “I . . . I’m flattered, sir.”

  Lines appeared between his brows. “I have no business requesting to court you, not with my recent enlistment, but I would desire your permission to write while I’m away.” He cleared his throat. “Would you grant me permission to do so?”

  Her thoughts spun. What harm could come from letting him write? “Of course.”

  A wide smile blossomed. “Thank you, Miss Piper. Cadence.”

  She gently retracted her hand and tucked it back into her lap. “I should be happy to hear from you. In so many ways, I wish I could go and fight as well.”

  His lips pursed. “Ladies should never be subjected to such things.”

  A sudden image of Mother’s limp, pale form flashed before her mind. The days that bled into nights, cold compresses and pungent teas . . . none of it was pleasant. At least Cadence had been able to bring her a measure of relief. Afforded her a respite from her suffering.

  She swallowed. “But to have a purpose. To know your task and give your life to it with all your heart. There is nothing more noble or honorable. Surely it must be highly satisfactory. A filling of the soul.”

  “Of course, but I’m a man.” His brows lowered. “It’s different for women. The gentler sex should be content at home.”

  Should they? Cadence had felt a gnawing at her spirit ever since Mother had passed. The disquiet had grown steadily worse. It was not enough to keep house for Father and attend social gatherings. Of late, even the charitable organizations left her hollow. She longed to do something. To matter.

  Or was she merely running from the darkness again?

  The sudden memory of sitting in the phrenologist’s office as a girl of twelve sliced through her mind like a shard of glass. She remembered the warm, stuffy air. How his breath had smelled of peppermint. The way his fingers had roved through her hair as he’d felt across her scalp, probing bumps and contours.

  “I’m afraid she has a congenital malformation of the speech apparatus. Perhaps of the respiratory organs as well. You should not expect much from her . . .”

  She’d replayed his stinging words a thousand times, yet her heart had not grown calloused to the pain.

  Defiance rose up like a beast inside. She could do something to aid the cause, surely. She must do something.

  “D-do all feel that women have no part to play in the conflict?”

  Stephen paused, his face thoughtful. “I suppose not. Just this morning I heard a rumor that Secretary of War Cameron is considering appointing Dorothea Dix as superintendent of nursing.”

  “Miss Dix? I’ve heard of her hospital work for the insane.”

  He nodded. “Some say she’s brilliant and others believe she’s a harsh taskmaster, but from what I understand, everyone believes she is a woman who can achieve results.”

  “But everyone knows the army only employs male nurses.”

  “Yes, but apparently Cameron is considering letting Miss Dix organize her own nursing corps made up of female volunteers.” Stephen frowned. “The notion will never fly, I say. Too scandalous.”

  An idea ignited a flame of hope inside Cadence’s heart. Her blood warmed. The idea was ludicrous. What would Father think?

  But the longer she pondered, the more certain she became.

  She must try.

  Cadence clutched the scrap of paper in her gloved fingers and peered up at the simple but peaceful-looking home tucked away along the end of the street. She eyed the covered porch and green shutters from beneath the brim of her wide bonnet. The fluttering in her stomach quickly spread to her limbs until she feared she would rattle apart like a string puppet.

  Courage. If men like Stephen Dodd could enlist, she could muster up enough bravery to ask Miss Dix for a nursing job. Father deserved to have his name mentioned with honor, not with the disgrace Tate had thrust upon him. She could do the work. Hadn’t she proven so when Mother lay dying?

  With trembling legs, she climbed up the steps and rapped on the door. Muted footfalls sounded somewhere beyond. A woman opened the door, her skirts swishing as if she’d rushed to answer. Her face was calm, however, her features serene as her gaze swept over Cadence, her expression giving nothing away.

  “How may I help you?”

  “My name is—” she paused—“C-Cadence Piper. I would like to request an audience with Miss Dix if she is accepting callers.”

  The woman offered a wry smile. “When is she not? You may come in. Miss Dix is currently answering correspondence, but I’ll see if she’s willing to receive callers.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cadence followed the servant through the tidy foyer and into a small parlor. Perching on the edge of a gold brocade sofa, she slipped her gloves from her fingers, removed her bonnet, and smoothed her gray dress. With a gentle tug on her lace collar, she straightened her spine and waited. Nursing was a serious affair, and she intended to look the part.

  Her gaze roved over the simple furnishings to the dining room beyond. Crates of every shape and size filled the room, stacked along the walls and floors . . . some even piled on the table itself. Odd. Perhaps Miss Dix had only just moved to Washington and had nary a moment to unpack. With the War Department’s demands, such a thing was not unlikely.

  The soft rustle of a skirt sounded in the hallway. Cadence’s heart thumped so loudly she feared she might faint.

  A slim, rather retiring woman stood in the parlor doorway. Cadence rose to greet her. The woman was wearing black, no jewelry or baubles to boast of. Her dark hair was parted down the middle and pulled into a severe knot, save for two wide dips she allowed over her ears. Shadows circled her eyes as if she’d spent many a night deep in study or some other intellectual task, but her bearing was regal . . . like a queen holding court.

  “Miss Piper?”

  Not knowing what else to do, Cadence offered a curtsy. “Forgive my unannounced call, Miss Dix. I’ve come on a matter of some importance.”

  A small smile appeared. “Everything seems to be of importance these days. Please sit. I’ll call for tea.”

  She rang a porcelain bell sitting on a table beside her chair and sat, her back as straight a
s a metal rod. Placing her hands in her lap, she studied Cadence and waited, silent. Her gaze was piercing, dreadfully astute, missing nothing. Cadence fought the urge to squirm. Miss Dix would not make this task easy.

  She cleared her throat. “I fear I’ve caught you at an inconvenient time.”

  Miss Dix waved her hand toward the dining room. “War changes things. No doubt you saw the supplies filling my dining area.”

  “Those are supplies? I assumed you’d recently moved to Washington.”

  Her lips twitched as the servant swept into the room with a tea service in hand. She placed the laden tray on the table and left as silently as she’d entered. Miss Dix poured them each a steaming cup and handed one to Cadence. She grasped it but feared her nerves would cause the tea and saucer to clatter.

  “You are correct on both counts. No sooner did I move here than I was appointed superintendent of nurses. Now donations are pouring in faster than I can organize them. I daresay they will soon overtake my house.”

  Taking a sip, Cadence set her tea aside. “Actually, your new appointment is why I’m here.”

  Miss Dix remained silent. Cadence swallowed and blurted, “I want to be a nurse.”

  “I see.”

  Forgetting her nervousness, she leaned forward. “I can do the work. I know I can. I nursed my mother when she lay dying. I held vigil for months with little sleep. I found gr-gr-gratification and p-p-pur-pose.” Cadence let her eyes slide shut. Not here. Not now. Heat engulfed every fiber of her body. Clenching her fists, she fought for calm. She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke slowly. “All I ask is a chance to prove my mettle.”

  Miss Dix studied her carefully. After a painfully long stretch of silence, she sighed. “Have you ever been inside a hospital, Miss Piper?”

  “No, but—”

  “It is not for the faint of heart. Disease and filth. Blood and dysentery. Men burning up with fever, others crying out in pain. The odor of urine, sweat, and less pleasant aromas that have caused grown men to pass out. Days are long and tempers are short. It’s a far cry from keeping a lone vigil at a beloved’s bedside.”

  Cadence felt the knot tightening her middle. “Of course. Surely the work is strenuous for even the most hardened nurse, but the need is great, is it not?”

  Miss Dix continued as if she hadn’t heard. “And then there are the men themselves to consider. We mustn’t tempt them. My nurses will retain the highest standards of dress and decorum. No bows, hoops, or jewelry of any kind. Not even lace.” Her sharp gaze dropped to Cadence’s lace collar.

  Cadence’s cheeks warmed and she fought the urge to finger the collar. Surely Miss Dix wouldn’t hold the requirements against her before she’d begun, would she?

  “I understand.”

  Miss Dix sighed. “I like you, Miss Piper. I think you have gumption. Your eagerness is to be commended. You actually remind me a great deal of myself at your age. In a world where there is so much to be done, I felt strongly impressed that there must be something for each of us to do.”

  At least Miss Dix understood. “Yes, precisely. I long to serve, to be a part of something bigger than myself.”

  “This makes what I have to say all the more difficult.”

  Cadence’s pulse halted.

  “I’m afraid I must decline.”

  Humiliation washed over her in a cold wave. “I don’t understand.”

  Miss Dix’s brows lowered. “It’s nothing you’ve done, my dear, but I must consider the soldiers. How easily they form attachments to sweet nurses with lovely faces. Reputation and honor . . . these must be guarded with all diligence. The single most important requirement for my nurses is that they be older women, preferably married or widowed and plain of face.”

  Cadence blinked. “You’re saying I’m . . .”

  “Too young and far too pretty.”

  Never had a compliment held such a bitter sting. She grasped for any argument that might sway the woman’s opinion.

  “I’ll be eighteen in but two months. Surely by then—”

  Miss Dix frowned. “Eighteen may be the enlistment age for our soldiers, but our nurses must be far older. Even if you were forty, you are far too comely to be a nurse. I’m sorry.”

  Mouth dry, she stood on shaking legs and scrambled for a semblance of reasonable thought. “I—I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  Her throat burned. She hadn’t realized how desperately she’d longed for the opportunity until it had been denied her. She had turned to leave, blinking back the tears threatening to spill, when Miss Dix’s soft voice caused her to pause.

  “Miss Piper?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  A sympathetic compassion flooded the woman’s face. “Do not despair. There is still much to be done. Find out what task Providence has ordained you to do and then do it.”

  Cadence hated the traitorous tremble of her chin. “This is all I’ve wanted. I fear there may be no task for me.”

  Miss Dix’s lips formed a thin smile. “There is always something. I think lying on my bed I can still do something. Whatever the work is, do it with all your heart.”

  The only thing Cadence longed to do had been denied her. What else could there be for her, the slow-to-speak daughter of a toymaker?

  She wasn’t enough. Never had been.

  With a nod, she spun on her heel and left.

  Joshua crept into the darkness of the littered alley, resisting the urge to shift his weight. One ill-timed sound could destroy everything.

  Where was Zeke? He prayed his friend had not met with any trouble.

  Releasing a tight breath, he blinked away the grit coating his eyes. Work at the hospital had been grueling. The never-ending stream of patients chipped away his time during the daylight hours, but it was here, during the darkness of night, that the work he felt most passionate about took place.

  A door slammed in the distance. His nerves tightened. Boisterous laughter burst from a group outside a large building at the end of the alley. The masculine voices melted into less mirthful tones. Quieter, but carrying the hard edge of inflamed zeal.

  “We must protect ourselves and our property, and those who will not help us will help our enemies. This is the way we are forced to reason the matter, and every true man who believes in individual rights will join the Knights without trouble. Those who will not join, we know are not true to our cause.”

  Hair prickled on the back of Joshua’s neck. Forcing his step to be light, he braved a footfall in their direction. Then another and another. He hunkered low as they walked closer.

  “We must work in unison.”

  “I quite agree.” The third man’s voice was deeper and rough, like the sound of wet pebbles tossed into a can. “We have made our oath. Nothing but blood shall satisfy against all men of the North who are not friendly to our cause. Our emblems are the constant reminders . . . death to abolitionists and traitors.”

  His companions grunted their agreement, their heavy steps growing louder as they approached down the alley. Joshua held his breath as they passed. There were at least five of them, but the darkness made it impossible to gauge any details.

  When he was certain he was alone, he rose, his thoughts troubled.

  Just who were the Knights?

  Chapter 3

  “I’M OFF TO OUR GRAND OPENING. WISH ME LUCK.”

  Cadence looked up from clearing the breakfast table. Papa looked so handsome in his brushed black coat and starched white shirt. His eyes held a twinkle that had been absent far too long.

  “You don’t need luck. You’ve always been a success.” Rounding the table, she straightened his tie and kissed his cheek. “Nevertheless, I shall wish you luck all the same.”

  He chuckled. “Thank you.”

  She bit her lip. “Are you sure I can’t come assist you? I don’t mind.”

  He waved his hand. “You’d be bored stiff. Watching people come and go, making small talk with customers. Hardly work for a l
ovely young lady. No, your place is at home with Louisa.” He avoided her gaze, fiddling with his coat cuffs instead. Father was always kind, but he never let her assist him in the shop, nor had he let her help in Boston. The few times she’d attempted, he’d humored her . . . until customers arrived. Then he shooed her away with haste.

  What was she to do at home all day? Needlepoint? Stare at the walls while Washington filled with soldiers waiting for troop assignments? Even elderly matrons were allowed to change bloody bandages and soothe fevered skin. They all had purpose. Destiny. And what did she have? Nothing. No great calling. And every time she attempted to latch on to one, her attempts were soundly thwarted.

  “There is still much to be done. Find out what task Providence has ordained you to do and then do it.”

  Miss Dix’s admonition rolled through her mind like a beating drum. What task of great worth could she possibly accomplish trapped at home?

  Before she could utter anything more, Papa patted her shoulder and left her alone in the empty dining room. She gathered up the last of the breakfast dishes. Every clink felt loud and echoing, a yawning void of hollow space gnawing at her soul.

  She could hear the housekeeper’s gentle hum as she heated water for washing. Even the cheerful melody failed to soothe.

  A sharp rap sounded at the door. Puzzled, she discarded the dishes in the kitchen and walked to the front door. She opened it to reveal a familiar face.

  “Elida!”

  The pastor’s wife of Christ Church leaned forward and brushed her cheek before pulling back to offer a gentle smile. Blonde curls peeked out from the sides of her black bonnet.

  “Forgive me calling so early, but I needed to speak with you, and I was already in the area, so . . .”

  “Think nothing of it.” Cadence grasped her arm and drew her into the parlor. “You know how much I enjoy your company. Come. Sit down and let’s enjoy a visit. Yours is one of the few friendships I’ve made since coming to Washington.”