Washington City Citadel - Softcover

Schofield, Nikki Stoddard

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1524687685 ISBN 13: 9781524687687

Publisher: AuthorHouse, 2017

Synopsis

Memories of my grandfather, Frederick John Burns (1875-1956), a homeopathic doctor who graduated from Rush Medical School in Chicago, and his daughter who was my mother, Lois Burns Stoddard (1916-2003), a graduate of the Henry Ford Nurses Training School in Detroit, stirred my interest in the history of medicine. I have read books on the subject for years and was impressed by my visit to the Civil War Museum of Medicine in Hagerstown, Maryland.

In June 2015, I began volunteering as a guide at the Indiana Medical History Museum, located in the old Pathology Building on the grounds of Central State Hospital. This facility, originally called the Indiana Hospital (never asylum) for the Insane, is now gone, but the science laboratory built in 1896 still stands.

Miss Dorothea Dix spoke to Indiana legislators in 1844 to convince them to build an insane asylum, which they did. The building intended for a hundred mentally ill people was constructed as two connected log cabins in downtown Indianapolis, but it is doubtful that any patients ever used the structure. Instead, the Indiana Hospital for the Insane was built on one hundred sixty acres just three miles west of downtown Indianapolis.

The idea about the two soldiers who, during the Peninsula Campaign, suffered from malaria that resulted in their developing a high fever, and the fever killing the syphilis spirochetes, came from my work at the Indiana Medical History Museum. In that building, the doctors studied the malarial treatment for syphilis. Dr. Walter Bruetsch (1896-1977) came from Heidelberg, Germany, to Indianapolis in 1925 to further his research on this groundbreaking cure for syphilis. However, only about thirty percent of the patients with syphilis at Central State Hospital were cured. When Dr. Bruetsch also experimented with penicillin, the German doctor concluded that drug to be far superior, and the malarial treatment ended.

The books on the history of insanity, which I used as research, are listed at the end. The possibility of people being incarcerated against their will in an insane asylum was not uncommon in the nineteenth century.

In July 2016, I traveled to Alexandria, Virginia, and Washington, DC, to do research for this book. I was especially interested in historic buildings in order to describe the area. I walked the streets of Alexandria in ninety-degree heat. At the Book Bank Used Books on King Street, I talked to Ms. Becky Squires, who lives on Queen Street and who was very helpful in providing historic information. In Washington, I observed the contrast of the wide streets, so different from Old Town Alexandria. The trip was beneficial in helping me visualize the two locations at the time of the Civil War.

In many languages, story and history are the same word. Therefore, to create a fictional story by using historical characters and events seems a reasonable endeavor. According to his son, John Steinbeck said that the purpose of writing is to reconnect people to their own humanity. My purpose for writing is to connect people to our Civil War and thereby learn how we have become who we are as Americans because of what happened during that four-year period.

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Washington City Citadel

A Civil War Romance

By Nikki Stoddard Schofield

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2017 Nikki Stoddard Schofield
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-5246-8768-7

Contents

Other Novels By Nikki Stoddard Schofield, ix, 
Praise For Nikki's Books, xi, 
Preface, xv, 
Acknowledgements, xvii, 
About The Author, xix, 
About The Front Cover Designer, xxi, 
About The Back Cover Photographer, xxiii, 
Characters By Chapter, xxv, 
Chronology Of Historic Events, xxxiii, 
1 Unlikely Meeting, 1, 
2 She Vacated, 21, 
3 Bright, Undiscovered World, 39, 
4 Her Critical Condition, 61, 
5 Touring The Capitol, 79, 
6 Running From Wiltsee, 95, 
7 A Difficult Delivery, 113, 
8 Poison Ivy, 129, 
9 Rescuing Thierry And Francy, 147, 
10 Her Father Is Not Dead, 161, 
11 The Christmas Ball, 177, 
12 The Last Holidays Of The War, 191, 
13 The Articifial Limb Company, 205, 
14 Detective Durant Arrives, 219, 
15 Our American Cousin, 235, 
16 Maison De Sante, 253, 
Epilogue, 263, 
Book Club And Classroom Discussion Questions, 267, 
Resources, 269, 
Index To Historic End Notes, 273, 

CHAPTER 1

UNLIKELY MEETING

Wherein Aidan sees Rosalane in distress; They talk at the Conversazione Restaurant; and Rosalane agrees to Aidan's proposal.

The July heat in Washington City was stifling. Rosalane Ashmore tipped her beige bonnet to shade her eyes and wished she had brought her parasol. An ambulance pulled by two galloping horses sped past, blowing dust into Rosalane's face. She coughed and tugged a lace-edged handkerchief out of her reticule. Coughing into the white fabric, Rosalane felt perspiration drip under her arms and down her back to dampen her cream-colored blouse.

As three scruffy men passed her, she heard one of them say, "This weather is ten degrees hotter than hell."

All three leered at her as they went by.

Such a thing to say, Rosalane thought. How would he know?

She rubbed her handkerchief across her forehead and clutched it in her fist, as her draw-string purse dangled from her other wrist.

The federal capital teemed with activity. Soldiers rode, marched, or loitered on the unpaved streets as well as on the two paved streets, Pennsylvania Avenue and Constitution Avenue. Citizens, many of whom were new to the city since the war started, went to their jobs, visited stores, and carried on business as they had before the war. But life in the city was different. Many of the jobs were war related. Many of the people would not have been there if two sections of the country were not battling each other.

Dr. Aidan Brookston, one of those people who would not have been in Washington City if not for the Civil War, was preoccupied with thoughts of the hospital he just left. Although suffering from sleep deprivation as well as days of stress and overwork, he could not get his thoughts off Dr. Harold Wiltsee, the administrator in charge of Campbell General Hospital. The alcoholic doctor had deserted his post, saying he was joining the militia to fight the oncoming Rebels, but the staff had all returned to their jobs and reported that Dr. Wiltsee had not been anywhere among them as they took up arms against General Jubal Early's troops. In fact, the errant doctor was still not back.

Suddenly, Aidan's thoughts about the incompetent doctor vanished as he saw a young woman ahead of him. She wore a burnt orange skirt without a hoop and beige blouse. What is she doing in this neighborhood? It's not safe here for a woman alone. He saw her cough into her handkerchief. Is she ill? Heat stroke? Consumption? Clutching the handle of his medical bag, Aidan hurried toward her. I must offer to help.

A squad of uniformed horsemen raced by, kicking dirt into his face. Closing his eyes to keep the dust out, the young doctor wished that he could keep his eyes closed. For the past seventy-two hours, Aidan had worked as the administrator at the hospital where he had been employed since it was built two years ago. With so many doctors and male staff gone to defend the city against the Confederate invasion, those who remained had to take on extra duties. Dr. Brookston had not expected to assume Dr. Wiltsee's duties, but there was no one else qualified. Besides the desk work, he had continued to care for the patients – soldiers with gunshot wounds, soldiers with diarrhea, soldiers with childhood diseases for which they had no immunity, soldiers in need of surgery, and soldiers recovering from surgery.

With the Union cavalry speeding away down the unpaved street, Dr. Brookston opened his eyes. The young woman had disappeared. He saw two men with hats pulled low over their foreheads turn into an alley.

Are they following her?

Aidan ran to the littered alley and saw the men come up on each side of the woman, who had pushed her bonnet off so it dangled against her back. The alley was shaded by the two-story buildings on each side. Aidan wrinkled his nose at the foul odor in the narrow passageway.

Alleys were a common feature of the city's landscape. Here, the poor people lived and often worked. In this alley, a woman was hanging clothes on a line from her window overhead. Several people were at the far end where sunlight glared.

"You there!" called Aidan, hurrying toward the threesome.

Rosalane had not noticed the dirty, bearded men approaching her until the doctor shouted. At that moment, the man on her right grabbed for her reticule. The drawstring cord tightened around her wrist.

"Get away from her!" Aidan shoved the man on Rosalane's left. The other man struggled with Rosalane for possession of the little purse.

The woman hanging her wash stopped to watch the drama below. Aidan yanked the arm of the thief who let go of the reticule and ran. His companion sped after him. A yellow dog chased the running men.

Rosalane fell to her knees. Aidan set his medical bag beside her, knelt on one knee, and asked, "Are you hurt? Let me see your wrist."

Without awaiting her permission, he took her hand, still clutching her brown silk purse, and pushed back the cuff of her crocheted, fingerless glove. He saw a red mark where the cord had pressed against her skin.

"I have some ointment that will take the sting out." He opened his bag and removed a small jar.

Leaning from her window, the washer woman tried but failed to hear the couple's words.

Rosalane stared at the abrasion on her wrist. Suddenly, her mind registered a man's fingers coming toward her hand. She jerked her arm back.

"I am just going to put this ointment on the red mark," Aidan said softly. "I will not hurt you." He took her hand again, applied the salve, and spoke calmly as he did so.

"You should not be in this area. It is not safe for a woman alone. Are you lost?"

A woman alone, Rosalane thought. That's what I am. All alone.

Suddenly, tears sprang from her eyes and trickled down her pale cheeks. She lifted her hand with the hankie and dabbed at the tears.

"There is no need to cry," Aidan said softly. "You are safe now. I mean you no harm. How can I help?"

Rosalane stared at the man kneeling beside her billowing skirt. Her tears stopped as suddenly as they had started. She took in the appearance of this stranger. He wore a dark suit, white shirt, maroon silk cravat, and black hat. His brown hair touched his collar. He was clean shaven in a time when most men wore beards. He had a strong jaw line and dark eyes with a compassionate gaze.

"Allow me to be of assistance, please," he said. "What can I do to help you?"

Without thinking twice, Rosalane uttered the first thing that came to mind. "Marry me?" Surprised by the two words she had just spoken, she quickly added, "Forget that. Excuse me." She leaped to her feet, picked up the front of her skirt, and said, "Please allow me to pass."

Recapping the jar as he stood up, Aidan said, "No, Miss, I cannot do that." He dropped the jar into his bag and stepped in front of her. In a forceful tone, he said, "Tell me what's wrong."

Thoughts raced through his mind. She's with child and needs a husband. That's why she said: marry me. Am I thinking clearly? Am I too tired to make sense of this?

Rosalane brushed past the man and looked straight ahead, thus unaware of the pig rooting among the garbage. She would have fallen over the pudgy animal if Aidan had not grabbed her around the waist. The pig went squealing away on its stubby legs as the doctor pulled her against his chest. She felt his medical bag against her back and his silky cravat against her forehead.

"Forgive my boldness," he said as the pig disappeared around the corner.

Rosalane froze in his embrace. This is a dream. It's the jungle in my dreams – hot, strange surroundings, a man.

Reluctantly, Rosalane took one step back. Aidan dropped his arms from around her. She started down the alley. He fell into step beside her.

"I must escort you out of this neighborhood," the doctor said. "A lady should not be here without a companion."

Although he wanted nothing more than to lie down in his comfortable double bed at the boarding house he recently purchased, Aidan could not allow this woman to walk where she might be molested. He was raised a gentleman, and gentlemen looked after ladies. This is a simple problem compared to what I've been facing for the past three days.

Because the hospital staff had expected battles in the streets of Washington City, they had prepared for additional wounded as they cared for the patients already at Campbell. Only short cat naps had provided rest from the hours of surgery, patient care, and administrative details. After just one day at Dr. Wiltsee's desk, Aidan had discovered paid invoices for supplies that were never received. What to do about the fraud was pushed to the back of his mind, because forefront was this situation. I must help this woman, he told himself.

"What is the cause of your distress?" he asked.

"I have no distress," she said. "Just thieves and a pig."

"I saw you coughing," he said. "Do you have consumption?"

"No." She coughed into her handkerchief. "It's the dust."

Before she knew what he was doing, the doctor took her hand and pulled it toward him so he could see the handkerchief she held.

"No blood," he murmured, releasing her hand as quickly as he had taken it.

Not consumption. Why the tears? Why the "marry me" statement? Why be in this neighborhood? A single word answer shot into his brain -- abortion!

Immediately, he stepped in front of her. She halted. "I am a doctor. Please allow me to help."

"You're a doctor?" She stared and thought: What kind eyes he has. He looks like a doctor with his fine clothes and pleasant voice. He has an accent. What country is he from?

"Yes I am. Do you have a medical problem?"

"I am not sick." Rosalane tried to step around him but he moved to prevent her. She said, "I have just had a disappointment."

She's been jilted. I was right. The scoundrel left her pregnant.

"Perhaps you could tell me about it." He pointed toward the end of the alley where she could see, across the street, a building with green awnings.

"The Conversazione Café has ice cream. May I buy you some?"

Ice cream. What a delightful idea.

Nevertheless, she hesitated. The man held out his hand and said, "My name is Dr. Aidan Brookston. I work at the Campbell General Hospital."

Rosalane put her hand, encased in its crocheted glove, into his. He did not shake her hand. He simply held it for a moment.

"You speak with an accent," she said.

"I am from Scotland," he replied.

She liked his pronunciation of the word Scotland.

"I knew you were not a Southerner," she said, withdrawing her hand.

Without a word, he lightly touched the small of her back and escorted her across the street. At the Conversazione, he held the door. The place was filled with people also eager to enjoy ice cream on this hot day. A waitress escorted them to a small table with green and white checked tablecloth. Rosalane untied the ribbons of her bonnet, which Aidan took from her and hung on the nearby coat tree. He placed his hat on the adjacent peg. As he sat down, she noticed that he had a neat side part in his straight dark hair.

"It is nice to be out of the sun," Aidan said.

She nodded in agreement and used her handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her face. Looking around the small restaurant, she thought: The place is well named. There is much conversation.

"What can I bring you?" asked the plump waitress.

Aidan replied, "Ice cream, cookies, and glasses of water, please."

At the nearest table, three men discussed the recent Confederate invasion.

"They got way too close -- Forts Stevens, Slocum, and DeRussy! My word!"

"Those are near the Seventh Street road. I know a family lives that way."

"Did they see those dirty Rebels?" When his companion shook his head, he continued, "I'd say the good Lord saved us by sending this heat and drought."

"I agree. Those Rebs were too exhausted from their hard march to put up much of a fight."

From another table, two couples were talking. Their conversation drifted toward Rosalane and Aidan.

"The Battle of Monocacy saved our bacon."

"I thought it was defeat for us," said one of the women.

Her companion explained, "But it gave Grant time to send reinforcements to us."

"How many did they have?"

"I heard fourteen thousand."

"Not more than ten thousand."

"What did we have?"

"Nine thousand manned our forts. That included convalescents from the hospitals."

"We had dismounted cavalry."

"Clerks came from their offices."

The three men and two couples continued talking but Rosalane realized the man sitting across the table had just said something. "What?" she asked.

"May I know your name?" Aidan repeated.

"Rosalane Ashmore." She removed her gloves and tucked them into her drawstring purse.

"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Ashmore." Aidan reached for her hand as she pulled the string tight, and said, "Does this still hurt?" He looked at the mark on her wrist shiny with salve.

"No," she said, noticing, with his face so close, that he had a small mole near his left jaw line. She also saw the whites of his eyes were reddish.

Releasing her hand, Aidan said, "The skin is not broken." He took in the visage of Miss Ashmore. She had chestnut brown hair twisted in a chignon with tendrils curled at the front of her ears. Her brown eyes were her most striking feature. She had clear skin with no sun tanning, arched eyebrows, a pleasing nose, and rosebud mouth. To Aidan the doctor, she was the picture of health. To Aidan the bachelor, she was a lovely young woman.

"Will you tell me about your disappointment?"

"It's nothing. I'll get over it." She turned her gaze from his face to the window and thought: I won't get over it. Mother was right. No! I won't admit that.

Keeping his eyes on her face, he spoke in a low tone. "Now tell me how I can help you?"

Before Rosalane could answer, the waitress placed dishes of ice cream, a small plate of sugar cookies, and two glasses of water in front of them.

"Thank you," Aidan said to the waitress.

Rosalane looked at the food and realized she was hungry.

Aidan asked, "May I say the blessing?"

She nodded. He prayed, "Lord, we thank you for this refreshment you have provided. I pray this will nourish us as we endeavor to serve you. Amen."

After taking a spoonful of ice cream, he said, "You mentioned marriage."

"That was a foolish remark." She blushed and felt the heat in her cheeks. She began eating her vanilla ice cream.

"Have you been disappointed by a gentleman?"

"No, it's not that." Rosalane looked from her ice cream dish to his face. "The disappointment has been caused by Miss Dix."

"Dragon Dix?" He smiled and added, "I mean Miss Dorothea Dix." He was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

"Yes. Why did you call her dragon?" Her eyes widened with interest.

"I have heard that term used for her because of the harsh rules she advocates for her nurses." He sipped his water and watched her bite into a cookie. "She is very strict. If your disappointment has been caused by Miss Dix, does that mean you have been fired?"

"I was never hired in the first place!" Surprised by her outburst, Rosalane looked at the nearby tables, but no one seemed to notice.

"So that's it." He set down his glass and smiled at her. "Now I understand. You're too pretty."

"Her secretary said that same thing. Miss Dix never accepts pretty single women." Rosalane glared at Aidan. "I have always been so admiring of Miss Dix's ministrations to the insane. I thought she would graciously accept my offer to serve as a nurse. Yet, I did not even have an opportunity to meet Miss Dix. She was out." She paused to catch her breath, because she had been speaking rapidly. "How can someone deny you a job on the basis of your appearance? It should not matter whether the person is single or married. What difference does that make?"

"Didn't her secretary explain?"

"No!" Rosalane took another spoonful of ice cream.

Aidan said, "The word is that Dorothea Dix, a maiden lady herself, does not hire any pretty unmarried women to be nurses for the simple reason that she thinks they are looking for husbands."

"That's ridiculous!" She swallowed. "It seems to me that homely women would more likely be looking for husbands."

Aidan laughed. Rosalane thought: What a pleasant sound. She could not keep from smiling.

"Miss Dix might have strange rules but she is a devoted worker, not only for the insane and prisoners in the past but now for wounded and sick soldiers. She keeps at the job seven days a week without any days of rest," said Aidan. "That is a noteworthy accomplishment for a woman her age."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Washington City Citadel by Nikki Stoddard Schofield. Copyright © 2017 Nikki Stoddard Schofield. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Publication date: 2017
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1524687685
• ISBN 13: 9781524687687
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 310