Into the Wilderness

by Sara Donati

  “Between the time the deed is signed, and I marry, can I dispose of the property as I please?”

  “Only with court approval,” said Mr. Bennett. He picked up a small paperweight from his table and rolled it between his palms thoughtfully.

  With her back to him as she looked out into the road, Elizabeth said: “I did not have the opportunity to read the deed closely. Is there any stipulation as to the identity of my husband?”

  There was a small pause.

  “There is no mention of marriage at all in the deed,” Mr. Bennett said finally. “Any promises you make to your father—or to anyone else—are different contractual arrangements altogether, and have nothing to do with the deed. As long as it is signed and witnessed in my presence, it is valid. No matter whom you marry.”

  Elizabeth turned to find Mr. Bennett watching her very closely. “You are very perceptive,” she said with a small smile.

  “You mustn’t give me credit for too much,” Mr. Bennett said. “It is only that I am more familiar with Richard Todd’s childhood than you might be. You haven’t heard about his youth?”

  Elizabeth wondered if she should allow Mr. Bennett to tell her this story.

  “You have scruples, I see, about hearing this history. But I think you should hear it, as it may have a material effect on your own actions.”

  Mr. Bennett waited. When Elizabeth finally nodded, he sat forward in his chair with his hands flat on the table in front of him.

  “The Mohawk kidnapped Richard along with his mother and brother during the border wars. He was about three at the time. The march north took them over Hidden Wolf.”

  The sunlight lay in great flat sheets across the table and illuminated Mr. Bennett’s hands, the long fingers stained with ink, the pale nails glowing pink. Elizabeth found it hard to take her eyes off his hands.

  “His mother was with child, she couldn’t keep up the march. She died on the mountain. Richard was taken north to Canada. His uncle, Amos Foster, bought him out of captivity when he was eleven.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth said hoarsely.

  “So you understand his connection to Hidden Wolf is quite—personal in nature. He has been trying to buy it from the judge for years. I expect he will go to some lengths to secure his interests. He is tenacious, to say the least.”

  Mr. Bennett stood up with a little bow. “It is time we started home for dinner,” he said briskly. “If I have answered all your questions?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said with an absent smile. “Thank you so much for your help.”

  “I’ll get your things,” he said, starting toward the door.

  “Mr. Bennett?” Elizabeth asked, so that he paused with his hand on the knob.

  “What happened to Richard’s brother?”

  “The uncle tried to ransom him, but he wouldn’t leave. He stayed with the Mohawk and became a warrior.”

  “Is he still in Canada?” asked Elizabeth.

  “No,” Mr. Bennett said grimly. “He died in battle. Fighting for the English.”

  Elizabeth had been hoping for a quiet supper at the Bennetts’, but she got both more and less than she expected. Just after dinner, a servant arrived from the Dubonnets’ with an invitation to an evening party in honor of the visiting governor and his wife. Mrs. Bennett and Katherine were so very excited about this invitation that Elizabeth’s own calmer reaction went unnoticed, until she asked Mrs. Bennett to decline her share of the privilege.

  “I am very tired,” Elizabeth excused herself. “I hope Mr. and Mrs. Dubonnet will understand.”

  “Lizzie doesn’t care for such affairs,” Julian pointed out needlessly. “She probably picked up some new book this afternoon and can’t wait to get to it.”

  Mr. Bennett sighed. “A new book in front of the hearth sounds to me a much finer evening than listening to Ellen Clinton play the piano.”

  “Hush, John.” Mrs. Bennett swatted at her husband impatiently, but grinned nonetheless. “What a thing to say.” She turned her gaze to Elizabeth. “If it is a book, Elizabeth, won’t it wait? You may never have another opportunity to meet Mrs. Clinton.”

  When Elizabeth had assured Mrs. Bennett that she preferred to stay home, Katherine spoke up. “It’s our last evening,” she said. “But if you really don’t want to go out—”

  “You are most welcome to borrow my cape,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

  She was served a late supper of soup and cold meat, which suited her perfectly; Elizabeth did have a new book—two, in fact—and many things to think about, but as she was finishing her meal the maid came to announce a visitor.

  “Did you tell them that the Bennetts are out this evening?” Elizabeth asked, trying hard to hide her irritation with this delay of her plans.

  “Yes, miss, but the gentleman is asking for you.”

  “I see.” Elizabeth touched a hand to her hair, began to rise, and then sat again abruptly, fighting with a sudden and quite explicable case of the jitters. Who could this possibly be but Nathaniel?

  The maid was watching her closely. “Shall I just send him away, miss?”

  “Oh, well. No, I think I shall just speak with him briefly—”

  “You don’t even know who it is, miss,” the maid pointed out.

  Startled, Elizabeth looked up. “Did you get a name?”

  “We always ask for a name.” There was a pause as the woman struggled to hide her peevishness. “This may not be England, miss, but we know how to answer a door.”

  “Of course you do,” Elizabeth murmured, wishing very much that she did not have this disgruntled servant to deal with right at this moment.

  “Since you don’t ask, miss, then I’ll just tell you. It’s Dr. Richard Todd come to call.”

  The parlor was well lit, with braces of candelabra on the tables, so that as he paced, Richard threw his long shadow about the room. “I had some business to attend to in town,” he told her. “And I thought I would pay the Bennetts my respects.” He strode up and down Mrs. Bennett’s good Turkey carpet with his hands crossed behind his back and his head bent forward as if his life depended on counting every cabbage rose he stepped on.

  “I’m sure they will be sorry to have missed you,” Elizabeth said.

  “Hmmm.” Richard stopped suddenly before the hearth and turned to face Elizabeth. “I really came to see you, you realize.”

  When Elizabeth refused to ask him to clarify this statement, he looked puzzled, and then dropped unceremoniously into a chair. His broad frame made the carved walnut back seem very fragile by comparison. He leaned toward Elizabeth with his hands on his knees and his elbows turned outward. You are very good-looking, Elizabeth thought to herself. And very, very sure of yourself

  “Do you realize this is the first time I’ve had the opportunity to talk to you alone for weeks? You avoid me in Paradise. You’ve never even been to my home.”

  Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “I would say that you exaggerate, Dr. Todd. I see a great deal of you at my father’s home. And I know you are sensitive to the delicacy of a single woman visiting an eligible bachelor.”

  “It’s a very nice house,” Richard said. “The only brick one in Paradise.”

  “It appears very nice, yes,” Elizabeth said. “Did you come to talk about your housekeeping arrangements?”

  Without further preamble, Richard jumped up and began his pacing again. Apparently Richard Todd was a man who needed physical movement to think clearly. It was quite irritating, really, and if it weren’t for the story Mr. Bennett had told her earlier in the day, Elizabeth might have been more forward and asked him what he could mean by such strange behavior. She watched him sweep past the tables with their piles of books and collections of shells, round the armchair nearest the hearth so that his coattails brushed the firescreen, make a hook around the pianoforte, and sweep back again in her direction. There was a run in one of his silk hose, and a splash of dirt on the other, but otherwise he was dressed impeccably, as always.

&nb
sp; Elizabeth could see no sign of his early trauma in him: he was nothing more than an ordinary man preoccupied with a goal, and insensible of his surroundings.

  “Well,” he said. “As a matter of fact, it does have something to do with my housekeeping.” He paused, drew in a deep breath, and then turned to face her.

  “You are aware that I own some three thousand acres of land bordering on your father’s holdings. I own houses in Boston, Albany, and Paradise. I studied at medicine as an assistant to Dr. Adams and Dr. Littlefield of Albany. Since I left them I have been practicing medicine on my own with some considerable success. I have substantial resources and can be of assistance to your father in his current difficulties. I am thirty years of age, and in excellent health. Let me see—” He seemed to consider for a moment, and then his face lit up. “Oh, yes, on the first day of the new year I gave both my slaves their freedom.”

  Elizabeth had been following this narrative with carefully hidden amusement, but the last statement did take her by surprise.

  “I am very glad to hear that,” she said. “I mean, about your slaves. As to the rest of it—”

  “Please allow me to finish. It comes to my attention that you are the kind of lady who would be able to take up a life where I live—on the edge of the wilderness, as you are aware—and flourish, in spite of the fact that you’re English. Since I am in need of a wife, and you are unmarried, and there are material advantages to this match, I offer you my hand with your father’s permission and approval.”

  She had been somewhat prepared for this event, but still Elizabeth was so surprised by the simple forcefulness of his application that she took a moment to collect her thoughts. Richard stood with one arm on the mantel watching her closely.

  “You sound like a man with a business proposition,” she said finally, “rather than one who wishes to marry.”

  She thought for a moment that he would smile, but the seriousness of the situation won out. Richard inclined his head.

  “When you first came to Paradise I did try to court you in a more traditional manner, but you made it quite clear that you didn’t appreciate those efforts. Now I do you the honor of presenting you with the truth of the matter,” he said. “You are not a frivolous person, and I didn’t think you would want loud protestations which you must yourself observe to be less than truthful.”

  Elizabeth was feeling a little more sure of herself, and she settled back into her chair. It was very strange to be receiving a marriage proposal, even as unusual a one as this, and while she would not wish for it, it was an interesting experience. Richard had clearly been practicing these speeches for some time, as awkward and silly as they were.

  “Are you saying that you do not care for me, but that you wish to marry me anyway?”

  “No!” He jerked up both hands as if to stop her. “I am saying that I respect your intelligence and that I thought you would appreciate an offer uncluttered with—with—”

  “Emotion?”

  A look of discomfort passed over his face, and then he nodded.

  “Let me see if I understand you correctly,” Elizabeth said. “You want to marry me because you think we shall both profit from such a marriage. You have considerable wealth and lands to offer me, a life of leisure. Would you agree to my teaching school, as your wife?”

  He shrugged. “If you find it necessary to your happiness,” he said, as if she had asked for permission to paint screens or study music.

  “Exactly in what way would you benefit?” She expected protestations of loneliness, the want of children, or the social demands of a person of his resources, but Richard was capable of surprising her.

  “I need a wife.”

  “But there are other, younger women you have known longer,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Why does the urge to marry take you so suddenly? Especially as you don’t seem to harbor any tender feelings …” She paused. “For me.”

  The formal posture Richard had adopted on coming into the room suddenly loosened, and he sat down on the edge of a chair, with his hands on his knees.

  “I like you fine, Elizabeth,” he said, sounding himself for the first time.

  Because she could see that this was in fact true, that he did like her a little even if he did not love her, Elizabeth felt some small softening toward him.

  “Come now, Richard,” she responded with a small smile. It was the first time she used his name, and it came to her with some difficulty. “You began by saying that you thought honesty was the best way to proceed.”

  “I thought it was best to discuss your marriage portion with your father directly,” he said, a muscle fluttering in his cheek.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what transaction is at the bottom of your wish to marry me,” Elizabeth said. “I will find out from my father if you don’t tell me, you realize.”

  Richard jumped up again and went over to a curio cabinet, where he began to fiddle with a china shepherdess followed by lambs of decreasing size.

  “Your father is years in arrears on his taxes,” Richard said with his back to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth drew in an audible breath. She had not anticipated this particular complication. That her father was so much in debt, that he could not pay his land tax. She had been controlling her temper, but now the first flush of anger spread through her. She watched Richard nudging the lambs into a line while the meaning of this raced through her head.

  “If I don’t wish to marry,” said Elizabeth finally, “I am sure my father will find another way to manage to pay his debt. There is always the possibility of mortgage.”

  Richard’s look had something of pity in it, and that made Elizabeth draw up.

  “I don’t think there’s much chance of a mortgage,” he said. “Not with the taxes in arrears.”

  “But he could sell land, if need be.” Elizabeth met Richard’s gaze directly. “I believe you—and others—have made offers to him.”

  “He could have done that many times over, but he chose not to. You know that your father wants to keep the land in the family.”

  “And so you wish to become his son-in-law,” Elizabeth said. “To circumvent his familial scruples. The land stays in the family if you marry me and resolve his debts.”

  He was not a coward; he did not look away. “That is the short of it,” he said. “But there is material advantage for you in it as well.”

  “Let me ask you, then,” said Elizabeth. “What happens if I refuse to marry you?”

  Richard shrugged. “I expect that in the end he will sell me the land anyway,” he said. “He has no choice. It would be hard for him to borrow the cash he needs, given his investment difficulties.”

  “Hidden Wolf seems to mean a lot to you,” Elizabeth said lightly.

  He didn’t flinch, but he turned back to the mantelpiece. “Yes,” he said. “It means very much to me.”

  She waited, but Richard was silent. Finally, Elizabeth dared to ask.

  “And what would you do with Hidden Wolf once you had it?”

  The shepherdess was in his hands, her china skirt an impossible powder pink against his palm. He ran his thumb over the frills, and then looked up suddenly. “I would make it mine,” he said with an empty smile. “Mine alone.”

  “I see.” Elizabeth nodded. If ever in your life you managed to keep your feelings in check, she thought to herself, then you must do so now. Resolutely, she put aside what she knew of Richard’s past. She could no more mention the way his mother had died on Hidden Wolf than she could have asked Richard if he had been the one to rob the Bonners, or shoot at Nathaniel. But she did not like the blankness in his face when he spoke of Hidden Wolf.

  “As would be your right,” she said quietly.

  Richard drew a deep breath. He’s relieved, thought Elizabeth. She rose from her chair.

  “Well,” she began. “Let me wish you good evening.”

  “But—” He came toward her, stopped at a distance that made her uncomfortable. But she could not draw
back. “My offer?”

  “Thank you most kindly for your offer,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sure you’ll understand that I need to think about this carefully.”

  He inclined his head, and then, slowly, nodded. “Of course. When might I expect an answer?”

  Elizabeth was thinking of her cousin Jane, who had had seven offers of marriage before she accepted one. I should have paid more attention, Elizabeth thought. Then she was struck with a fortunate idea.

  “I would like to write to my aunt Merriweather,” she said. “I shall do that tomorrow.”

  “Your aunt—in England?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Elizabeth. “I could never make a decision on a matter of such importance without consulting her.”

  Richard nodded, but his look was thoughtful. “As you wish it,” he said finally.

  “As she wishes what?” asked Julian from the hall. “What interesting conversation have we missed?”

  Elizabeth and Richard turned toward Julian to find him leaning against the doorway, gently slapping his gloves against his leg.

  Behind him stood Katherine, her eyes fixed first on Richard and then on Elizabeth, her face as pale as the snow that dusted her bonnet.

  XV

  Although she was surrounded by new purchases and wore a new hat, Katherine slumped in her corner of the sleigh as unhappy and dejected as she had been on the way to Johnstown. Elizabeth sat observing her, torn between compassion and irritation. That Katherine believed something important to have been arranged between Richard Todd and Elizabeth was obvious, but Elizabeth was loath to bring up the subject for discussion. What terrible messes we get ourselves into when we are silly enough to fall in love, she thought.

  The sky rolled over them in alternating patches of blue and clouds, now casting sunlight, now spitting flurries. After only an hour on the road the team was pushing too hard, eager to be home, the smell of snow in their noses. Galileo sang to them to keep their gait steady, his soft, breathy tenor whirling away in the wind. It was a strange but compelling winter landscape: the road ran along a high ridge, frozen marshes stretching out into the winter mists, broken here and there by stands of crooked black ash and white cedar, dogwood and alders dangling clusters of red catkins. Great stretches of evergreen shrubs showed gray-blue against the snowy backdrop. Where standing water had frozen into whirlpools of ice, islands of bulrushes stabbed up, their stems twisted and gold-brown, shimmering with frost. Elizabeth wished for someone who could tell her about what she was seeing: what the grasses were called, if the berries that the birds were eating from the shrubbery were consumed by people as well, what the strange puppylike animal she spied next to the track was. A look in Katherine’s direction made it clear that she was not to be engaged in such a conversation. Kitty’s whole attention was fixated a quarter mile ahead of the sleigh, where Richard and Julian rode along beside each other.