Mrs. Lincoln's Rival by Jennifer Chiaverini

Buchanan administration was in its final year, and no one knew what would replace it, for cracks had begun to appear in the foundation of all they had once accepted as true and immutable.
    Kate had made friends on both sides during her visits to the nation’s capital through the years, and she did her best to navigate this new, unsteady terrain without damaging her father’s prospects by favoring one faction over another, and without abandoning her principles.
    One day, while her father and Governor Dennison were ensconced at a club favored by Republicans and Whigs, Kate called on Miss Harriet Lane at the White House. Though nearly a decade separated them in age, they had become fast friends during one of Kate’s previous visits to the capital, and even after her bachelor uncle’s election to the presidency elevated her to great prominence as his official hostess, Miss Lane had always graciously received Kate whenever she was in Washington.
    Mr. Buchanan, a Democrat of Pennsylvania, had vowed in his inaugural address four years earlier that he would not run for a second term, so Kate’s visit was blessedly free of the inevitable tension that would have come between them were Miss Lane’s uncle and Kate’s father contending for the same post. In the family library on the second floor of the Executive Mansion, Miss Lane embraced Kate as fondly as she would a younger sister, took her by the hand, and led her to the sofa, where she prompted Kate with questions about Columbus, her father’s ambitions, and her opinion about his prospects. Too loyal to confess her doubts even to a trusted friend, Kate touched lightly on his setbacks and instead emphasized recent favorable developments—the resolution of the Ohio Convention naming Father as their first choice; the strong support offered by Joseph Medill, the publisher of the
Chicago Tribune
; and the promises of various officials they had met during their visit. “But what about you?” Kate asked, clasping Miss Lane’s hand. “I can only imagine how it has been for you these past few months, contending with such unrelenting animosity.”
    Miss Lane, ever self-possessed and dignified, shook her head as if there were no words for her difficulties, lifting a hand and letting it fall to her lap. “Seating arrangements at official events have become something of a geometric puzzle,” she said, smiling at the profound understatement. “I must place everyone with utmost care, paying due deference to rank while keeping foes apart.” Her smile faltered. “Their differences run far deeper than disagreements over a budget or a bill. I don’t see how the North and South will be able to restore any sort of harmony to the country when they can barely sit around the same dinner table without erupting into angry shouts, or proposing duels, or worse.”
    “The country will never know peace as long as slavery exists within its borders,” said Kate.
    “I know that’s what you and your father believe, but we’ve managed nearly a century half-slave and half-free.”
    “I wouldn’t say that we’ve managed particularly well,” Kate countered. “Or, thanks to the Fugitive Slave Law, that we’re even half-free. Even in the North the law compels us to return fugitive slaves to their enslavers.”
    “That law is ignored as often as it is obeyed.”
    “If the Southern slave powers have their way, that will no longer be so.” Kate shook her head, sighing. “No, this confrontation has been awaiting us ever since the founding fathers failed to forbid slavery in the new nation they created. It was and has always been inevitable. I only pray that this confrontation, when it finally breaks, will be a battle of laws and legislation and not one of muskets and cannon.”
    “I hope the same, with all my heart,” said Miss Lane fervently. “The more men talk of war, the easier it becomes to move closer to the edge of that precipice. I confess I don’t envy the man who will take my