by Lynn Austin
To ease her boredom, Rebecca planned a Fourth of July picnic with Freddy in nearby Lake Park. She recalled the picnickers in the Jardin des Tuileries in Paris and hoped that spending a romantic afternoon together beneath sunny Chicago skies would draw them closer. She also hoped to pique his interest in Egypt and turn him into the traveling companion she longed for. As they sat on a blanket spread on the grass, eating Maria Elena’s fried chicken and squares of corn bread, Rebecca unfolded a newspaper article. “Have you been reading the news about the Suez Canal, Freddy?” He shook his head, swatting at a fly buzzing around his head. “They’ve been digging for five years and are halfway done. Imagine how much time it will save once it opens. Ships won’t have to sail around the entire continent of Africa to get to India or the Far East.” She laid the clipping in front of him, but he showed no interest. He was much more concerned with the colony of ants that marched with great determination toward their hamper.
“Listen, is there any way to be rid of all these insects?” he asked. “They’re swarming everywhere.”
“Not that I know of. They’re part of the charm of an open-air picnic. We’re invading their territory, so it’s only fair that they investigate us.”
“I don’t find insects charming.”
“Forget about them, Freddy. We’re surrounded by beautiful trees—and look at what a lovely color Lake Michigan is today. I love hearing the birds singing and watching the squirrels chase each other, don’t you? I would eat all my meals outdoors if I could.”
Freddy shivered as if the ants had crawled up his pant leg. The picnickers in Paris hadn’t looked disgruntled and uncomfortable. But perhaps Freddy felt as awkward as she did at a formal occasion with her corset laced up tightly and her crinolines itching. She sighed and tried again.
“When Father is feeling better, I still plan to visit Egypt, the Holy Land, and Greece. Flora and I studied Greek so we’ll be able to converse with people. And I recently located a tutor to teach us Arabic for our visits to the Ottoman Empire.”
“I’m sure you’ve also read the news about the unrest in Europe between Austria and Prussia. I don’t think it’s safe to travel there.”
“Europe is a big continent, Freddy. I’m certain it’s possible to travel and still avoid any unrest.” She watched him pick up a chicken drumstick with his thumb and forefinger as if reluctant to get his hands dirty. He had searched the hamper in vain for plates and cutlery, and had finally settled for spreading his napkin across his lap.
“As for visiting Egypt and the Ottoman Empire,” he continued, “there is a continual threat of contracting cholera and dysentery in such backward places. I would think that would dampen your enthusiasm.”
“Not a chance. There have been outbreaks of cholera right here in Chicago, too.” Rebecca watched Freddy nibble at his lunch while waging a futile battle against the ants and flies and a pesky yellow jacket that seemed determined to annoy him. She had trouble picturing him sipping coffee at a romantic outdoor café in Paris, let alone sailing down the Nile River on a dahabeeah.
The afternoon didn’t get any better as time passed. Freddy declined a walk along the lakeshore, fearing the damp sand would ruin his shoes. He didn’t want to wait for the fireworks display, complaining of mosquitoes once the sun set. Rebecca’s hope that she and Freddy would grow more comfortable with each other in a more relaxed setting had failed. But she did let him steal a kiss in the foyer when he brought her home. She saw him moving close, bending his head toward her, and she closed her eyes in anticipation, wondering what it would feel like to be kissed. It was described in literature as something wonderful. Freddy’s arms encircled her, and he pressed his damp lips to hers for a long moment before pulling away again. She could see by the light in the foyer that his cheeks had turned as red as ripe apples. Sadly, the only emotion Rebecca felt was embarrassment. “Good-bye,” she said abruptly. “Thank you for a nice afternoon.” She pushed him out the door.
Their courtship continued throughout the fall and winter months as the opportunity to travel abroad remained out of reach. The widow had arranged Rebecca’s social calendar and her dates with Freddy weeks in advance, and Rebecca didn’t know how to explain to Mrs. Worthington—or to Freddy, for that matter—that she would like to try courting someone else. Someone who shared an interest in the things she did. Someone funny and spontaneous and witty. Someone who liked talking about the same things she did. Where was the steady stream of eligible suitors that were supposed to be lining up at her door after the war? With no way out, Rebecca allowed herself to be dragged along, listening with envy as Flora chattered on and on about Thomas, who seemed to be everything her sister dreamed of in a partner. Flora barely took an interest in her final year of studies at North Western College, while Rebecca spent every spare moment learning Arabic with a private tutor and auditing every university history or theology course she could cajole her way into attending.
By spring of 1866, her boredom with Freddy began tilting dangerously toward dislike. His only interest seemed to be in learning how to make more money. Rebecca knew that good manners required never mentioning religion but she decided to wade into theological waters as they rode home from church one Sunday. Freddy had been attending church with her and Father—and Mrs. Worthington, of course—for several months.
“We’ve never spoken about God or our faith,” she began, “but I wondered what you thought about today’s sermon and Jonah’s reluctant response to God’s call. Have you ever heard God’s call in your life?”
The nervous jiggling of Freddy’s foot sped up. “As a Christian, I feel that the church plays an important role in people’s lives.”
“Does God play a role in your life?”
“I don’t understand the question. What’s the difference?”
“There’s a huge difference! The church is composed of all of us, and God is . . . well, He’s God! He created me the way I am for a purpose, and I want to obey Him when He asks me to do something for Him, instead of running the other way like Jonah did. But I’m still not clear what, exactly, He’s calling me to do.”
Freddy uncrossed his right leg and switched to his left one. It immediately began jiggling as fast as the other one had. “I’ve always tried to follow the church’s teachings and to be a good person . . .”
“But what if God asked you to—”
“To be honest, Rebecca,” he interrupted, “this is not the sort of conversation I’m very comfortable with.”
She let it go. But that was the day Rebecca decided that she couldn’t keep up the façade of interest in Freddy a single day longer. Their courtship had reached a dead end. Marrying him was out of the question. She couldn’t imagine spending a lifetime with a man whose faith was as tepid as Freddy’s or who led such a narrowly constricted life. Rebecca couldn’t remember ever laughing out loud when she was with him, pouring her heart out to him, or engaging in an interesting discussion with him on any topic. She made up her mind to tell Father about her decision and to end her courtship once and for all, regardless of how ill Father was or how upset it made him. She had tried to like Freddy, truly she had. But she was beginning to dislike herself in the process.
The opportunity came the following evening when Father summoned her and Flora into his library for a meeting. The familiar scent of his cigars and his worn leather chairs filled the dark-paneled room. Rebecca drew courage from the shelves of books surrounding her. Her father’s love of learning was as insatiable as hers, and he wouldn’t ask her to settle for a man who never opened a book. But Father looked as small and as pale as a ghost as he sat down behind his mahogany desk, facing her and Flora. “I know you girls have been concerned about my health,” he began, “so I’ll tell you the truth. The doctors say I have a leaky heart.”
“Oh no!” Flora’s hands flew to cover her mouth. Rebecca’s own heart seemed to skip a beat.
“The reason I sometimes experience trouble breathing is because fluid is gathering in my chest as my
heart grows weaker.”
Rebecca wondered how the books stayed on the shelves as the room seemed to shift and tilt. Father was the pillar of her life, the source of her independent nature, her encourager, her inspiration. He couldn’t be dying! She gripped the armrests to steady herself as something deep inside her felt shaken loose. “Can they do anything to help you?”
“I’ve been assured that I’ll have the best care possible.” He took a fresh cigar from his humidor, snipped off the end and held it to his nose to smell it before placing it between his fingers. The familiar ritual, part of Rebecca’s life since childhood, pierced her heart. But Father never completed the final step of lighting it, and the dead cigar seemed like an omen. He cleared his throat and said, “Now, what I also want to discuss with you girls tonight is—”
“Wait!” Rebecca said. “Tell us everything the doctors said, first.” She wanted to ask if he was dying, and if so, how much time she had left with him, but she was afraid to say the words out loud.
“The doctors have prescribed some remedies that may help. And they’ve advised me to cut back on my work, perhaps by hiring an assistant. Which brings me to Frederick Worthington.” Rebecca’s stomach made a slow turn. “He asked me for your hand in marriage, Rebecca. He’s a fine young man from a good family, and not only would he make an able assistant to me, but a fine husband for you.”
Rebecca gripped the chair even tighter, fighting the urge to shake her head in refusal. She saw no way out without disappointing her father—and who knew how much longer he had to live? He wanted his household in order before he died, she understood that. But the cost to her was much too great. “It’s just that I . . . I still want to travel and see the world, and Freddy doesn’t want to. Isn’t there some way I could go abroad and get it out of my system first before committing myself to marriage?”
“Perhaps. But right now it’s urgent that I find a partner for you who is bright enough and trustworthy enough to manage your money. You and Flora will become very wealthy women after I die, and I fear I haven’t adequately prepared you for the responsibility of handling so much wealth. I don’t expect you to be knowledgeable about investments and trust funds and things of that nature, but I feel that the wealth I’ve acquired was entrusted to me by God, and so I’m obligated to leave it in capable hands.”
“But you aren’t dying now, are you Father?” Rebecca asked. Panic rose and swirled like flood waters. “Why is it so important that I marry Freddy and not someone else?” Anyone else! A man who would laugh with her, dream with her.
“Because your inheritance will pass to your husband when you marry, and I want to be sure that the men you and Flora marry understand how to handle it. According to the laws of this state, your husband takes full control of your inheritance, your property, and your estate once you’re married, and—”
“Wait! Full control?” Helplessness filled Rebecca with rage. “Does this mean I can’t control my own life or make my own decisions after I marry? I can’t even claim my own inheritance? That’s outrageous!”
“It’s the law, Rebecca.”
“Does Freddy know how much you’re worth?”
“He has a fairly good idea.”
“Then how do you know he isn’t marrying me for your money?”
“Because he’s Mrs. Worthington’s nephew. She has vouched for his outstanding character.”
“Don’t you think she might be just a little biased?”
“Don’t be unkind, Rebecca.”
A crushing weight pressed down on her, making it hard to think, to breathe. Freddy Worthington sat atop that suffocating weight. She struggled against rising despair as she searched for a way out.
“I’m sorry, Father, but I don’t think I can accept Freddy’s proposal right now. He doesn’t think I should travel and explore the world, and that’s what I long to do. He has also made it clear that he doesn’t want to travel with me.”
“Perhaps something can be worked out—”
“Haven’t you always taught Flora and me that we need to pursue God’s purpose for our lives? I can’t believe that it’s my purpose to marry Freddy Worthington and give dinner parties for his important clients for the rest of my life.”
“What do you plan to do with your life, Rebecca?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. I need to find out why God made me so interested in history and languages and travel. Why He gave us so much wealth, when most of the world is so poor. He must have something He wants me to do with what I’ve been given.”
“I think—”
“And what about love?” she interrupted. “Shouldn’t two people be in love with each other if they’re going to spend the rest of their lives together?”
“Frederick assures me that he’s very fond of you—”
“Fond? You want me to spend the rest of my life with a man who is merely fond of me? Were you in love with our mother when you married her or merely fond of her?”
He looked down at his cigar, still clenched between his fingers. She heard him draw a wheezing breath and realized with a shock that the reason his cigar remained unlit was because he couldn’t breathe deeply enough to light it. “I loved your mother very much,” he said softly.
The tenderness in his voice brought tears to Rebecca’s eyes. “I want to fall in love, too, Father.”
He nodded and laid down his cigar. “I won’t force you to marry Frederick. But I will ask you to give his proposal more thought before you turn him down. Frederick is going to approach you in the very near future. Please pray about your answer.”
“I will.” The words came out choked as she swallowed a knot of grief.
“Now, what about you, Flora?” he said, turning to her. “Frederick’s cousin Thomas has asked me for your hand, and—”
“Wait—what?” Rebecca interrupted. She knew how softhearted Flora was, how eager to please their father. She couldn’t let her sister rush into a marriage that she might one day regret. “You’re barely twenty years old, Flora. You haven’t finished your college degree yet. What’s the big hurry?”
Flora stared at her as if surprised by the interruption.
Father replied before Flora could. “I don’t think there’s any hurry for either of you to set a wedding date. It will take time to educate both Thomas and Frederick about the intricacies of my estate. Neither of them is ready to handle it at this point. But I don’t want to begin the apprenticeship until you’re both committed to marriage.”
“I can’t imagine myself with anyone but Thomas,” Flora said, her voice dreamy.
“That’s because he hasn’t given you a chance to court anyone else!” Rebecca shouted, infuriated. “Tell me, have you talked with him about your charity work? Do you know how he feels about the fact that you donate so much time and money to the poor?”
“Thomas knows that I volunteer at the county home, but we haven’t talked much about it or—”
“Then you’d better do it soon, Flora. Once he’s in charge of all your money, he’ll be the one who decides which causes you can contribute to and which ones he thinks are a waste of your money—I mean his money. Because it will all become his! He’ll—”
“That’s enough, Rebecca.” Father said. “You don’t need to make Flora unhappy just because you are.”
She refused to back down. “I’m sorry, Father, but this is a huge decision for both of us. I’m worried that Flora will be blinded by Thomas’ charm and swayed by her desire to please you. Flora doesn’t know how to say no to anyone.”
“Becky!” Flora sounded more hurt than angry.
“I’m sorry, but this conversation has me very upset. Not only have I just learned that Father is gravely ill, but I feel like I’m being forced to hand over control of my life to a man who doesn’t even love me, and who bores me to tears!” She rose to flee to her room.
“Just a moment,” Father said before she reached the door. “There’s one more thing I would like to say.” Rebecca turned arou
nd in the doorway, tears burning her eyes. “I’ve asked Mrs. Worthington to marry me. It’ll be a quiet ceremony, no fuss or frills. And it will take place next summer, after Flora finishes college.”
“You don’t need to wait for my sake,” Flora said.
He looked past Flora at Rebecca, who stood trembling in the doorway. She shook her head. “I think it’s best that Mrs. Worthington and I wait,” he said.
Rebecca turned and ran upstairs to her bedroom, stumbling over her petticoats as they tried to trip her on the way up. Freddy Worthington was going to propose to her. It was what her father wanted, what he believed was best for her. She locked her door and threw herself onto her bed, sobbing into her pillow and ignoring all of Flora’s pleas to let her come inside.
Two weeks later, Rebecca and Freddy attended a birthday celebration for Mrs. Worthington, a date that had been arranged weeks earlier. She dreaded the evening, fearing he might use the festive occasion to propose to her. Rebecca watched Freddy’s ever-tapping fingers on the tablecloth as Mrs. Worthington cut her birthday cake and felt his jiggling foot shaking the floor, and she wished he would propose and get it over with. Instead, he waited until the evening ended and they sat in his carriage parked outside her home. Freddy took her gloved hand in hers, cleared his throat, and said, “Rebecca . . . will you marry me?” He made no romantic gestures, such as falling on one knee or professing his great love and devotion. There was no heirloom brooch or ring from the Worthington family to dignify the occasion. Freddy lacked the imagination for such meaningful gestures. Rebecca heard his foot tapping the floorboards as he waited for her reply.
She had thought endlessly about what she should say, praying for guidance as her father had requested. She had rehearsed dozens of conversations in her head, practicing each one, debating between her duty and her heart. In the end, she decided that her answer would depend on Freddy’s response to one question. He still held her hand, so she gave it a gentle squeeze and asked, “Will you let me go on the excursion to Egypt I’ve planned for this coming summer?” He looked baffled, and then irritated that she hadn’t responded to his proposal with a joyful yes!