Into the Wilderness

by Sara Donati

  She was left to nap, to sneeze on occasion, drink tea, think of Nathaniel and the events of the morning, and weigh her options. Which seemed to be very few and all very unattractive. If she ventured out of bed, they would congregate in a moment’s time to get her to participate in the signing of the deed. Richard would first propose to her once again, this time in front of Mr. Bennett, and that if she were burning with fever and at death’s door. Of this Elizabeth had no doubt.

  Curiosity had summed up the situation in her own way. “You heard tell about that spot between the rock and the hard place?” she said, eyeing Elizabeth’s healthy color with something bordering on disapproval. “Well, then, missy, welcome to it.”

  This was in the evening, when the men had begun to mill about in the foyer.

  “As bad as crows,” Curiosity sniffed. “With the smell of fresh meat in the air.” The sound of steps on the stairs caused her to ruffle up and set her mouth in a thin line. “I’ll deal with ’em.”

  “No,” Elizabeth whispered, frowning. “I’ll have to talk sooner or later. Perhaps you should allow Father in.” She thought quickly. “Or perhaps Richard.”

  “Your daddy,” Curiosity agreed reluctantly. “But you forget about Richard. He know the sound of a cough. Here.” She took a brick wrapped in muslin from its place by the fire. “Hold this to your face.”

  When Elizabeth’s color had risen perceptibly, Curiosity tucked the brick under the covers, and with a conspiratorial look, she opened the door to the judge’s tentative knock.

  He stood at the foot of her bed considering her closely. Finally he managed a smile.

  “Well, my dear,” he said. “I suppose this is not the time for a lecture on the inadvisability of walking in the woods.”

  Elizabeth almost would have welcomed such a lecture, if it would keep the subject she feared at bay. But her father had already arrived there.

  “So. You see that Mr. Bennett has come. He is ready to witness the signing of the deed, which will endow you with a valuable piece of property. May I assume that this meets with your approval?”

  “If you wish to pass your property over to me, Father, then I will not object,” Elizabeth said. Curiosity was watching her closely; she sneezed into her handkerchief.

  “Good,” her father said. “Very good. But before we take that step, Richard would like to speak with you.”

  Elizabeth managed to pull herself up to a good height in her bed. She set her face in what she hoped was an expression of shock.

  “You aren’t suggesting that I allow Richard into my room while I am undressed?”

  The judge let out his breath in a hiss. “Well, I suppose—”

  “Really, Father,” Elizabeth interrupted, struggling to put away a persistent memory of herself naked on a bed of furs, with Nathaniel stretched over her.

  “He is a doctor, after all,” her father said, quite meekly now. And seeing that Elizabeth would not be convinced, he added: “Richard does have an important matter to discuss with you before the deed is signed. One you cannot be completely ignorant of,” he added.

  Elizabeth said, “Perhaps it is just that my head aches, but please do tell me. Is there some reason that Richard Todd cannot wait with his important matter until our business with Mr. Bennett is concluded?”

  If so much didn’t hang in the balance, Elizabeth might almost have enjoyed watching her father become flustered. He considered one line of argument and discarded it; visibly took up another. There was a tic in his cheek.

  “Let me be plain, daughter,” he said finally. “I would like to see a formal agreement between the two of you before any legal arrangements are made regarding the property.”

  “I suspected as much,” Elizabeth murmured. As chilling as it was to have this stated so unequivocally, it gave her room to ask some questions. “And why is that the case, exactly?”

  “It is the only resolution to a complex of problems which I should not trouble you with, given your condition.” The judge looked quite pleased with this formulation.

  Elizabeth’s fingers twitched and she twisted them in the coverlet lest they give away her anger.

  “ ’Scuse me,” drawled Curiosity in a dry voice. “This poultice needs looking after. I’ll return directly, Elizabeth.”

  “Now,” Elizabeth said when Curiosity had closed the door behind her. “Please tell me, Father, what influence it is that Richard Todd exerts on you.”

  But the judge only raised a brow. “No influence beyond that of a trusted friend and adviser,” he said. “And one I will welcome into the family.”

  “Then it is very unfortunate,” Elizabeth said, feeling how anger propelled her forward but unable to stop herself for the moment, “that you cannot marry him yourself, for you certainly like him more than I do.”

  “Elizabeth!”

  “No, let me finish. I’m wondering if it wouldn’t be better to sell the land to Richard outright, and leave me out of this business transaction altogether. There is not much for me in it, after all.” Too late, she asked herself what would happen if he suddenly decided to do just that.

  “No!” her father said, so loudly that she jumped a little. A look came into his eyes which would have frightened Elizabeth if it hadn’t surprised her so much: he was desperate. She saw him struggle to compose himself.

  “Think, Elizabeth,” he said in a strangled tone. “With you as mistress of the holdings, you will be able to exert some influence on Richard. In how the property is managed, for example. And there is a material advantage for you in this, or I would not allow it. You must believe that.”

  Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. There was, after all, nothing more to say. Her father’s motivations, whatever they might be, would not be made clear to her today. He gave her no choice; he would not trust her with the whole truth. His treatment was not that of a loving and concerned father, but of a panicky businessman. Threats, right now, could only raise his suspicions. Tears would do the same, as he had never seen her cry. If she went down to Mr. Bennett and flatly refused, before him, to marry Richard, what then? The deed would not be signed, and God only knew what other plan her father might be hatching. She wondered if his concern for the management of the property was sincere. Family feelings were, after all, not so very strong in her father; only twice had he come to England while she was growing up. A thought occurred to her which might at least gain her a little time.

  “I would like to see the letter from my aunt Merriweather.”

  Unexpectedly, the judge colored. “Yes. Of course. It’s in the study; I’ll have it brought up to you. Please excuse me now, for the moment, daughter, I must return to my guest. We will expect you later this evening, when you are feeling more yourself.” But he was already halfway out the door.

  Elizabeth was close to despair when Curiosity appeared again, this time carrying more tea, which she deposited unceremoniously on the dresser.

  “Get up, now, Elizabeth, and get dressed. We got to get you downstairs.”

  “What?”

  But Curiosity had grabbed the covers and flung them back, and had moved off to select a dress from the few hung on pegs behind the dressing screen.

  “I can’t go down there!” Elizabeth shouted in a whisper. “Richard will corner me immediately.”

  “Get dressed,” Curiosity said, thrusting a chemise into her arms. “Trouble down to the Gloves’ place, somebody hurt bad.”

  “The Gloves?” Elizabeth asked. “I don’t understand—”

  “Child.” Curiosity stood with her hands on her hips and her elbows and chin thrust out. “Wake up now. You can’t always be daydreaming when the fat in the fire. Somebody hurt down to the Gloves’, and they need the doctor.”

  “They need Richard?” asked Elizabeth. And then: “They need Richard! But how—”

  Curiosity yanked Elizabeth’s nightgown over her head, and grinned. “For a smart woman, Elizabeth, you thick as custard at times.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at Cur
iosity. “Tell me—” she began, but she was interrupted by the sound of a horse in full gallop approaching the house.

  “Never mind,” she said, suddenly full awake. She thrust her arms into the chemise and began to button it. “How long do you think this emergency will occupy Dr. Todd?”

  “Oh, by the time they get him there, pretty much all night,” Curiosity said, as she worked Elizabeth’s buttons with quick fingers. “Enough time for you to see to business, at any rate.”

  When Richard had ridden off with Julian in attendance, Elizabeth decided that a fifteen-minute delay before going downstairs was absolutely necessary. While she waited, Elizabeth made a bundle, in which she packed two changes of clothing, some sewing things, an extra pair of walking boots, her hairbrushes, soap, a small hand mirror, writing materials, her mother’s cameo, and the bit of jewelry she had owned, and after long deliberation, three books. This was an absorbing and even frightening task, but when she was done she saw by the clock on the mantel that only five minutes had passed.

  The bundle was too large; there was no doubt of it. She discarded the boots and the nicer of the two dresses, the hand mirror, and with some regret, the books. She would leave the jewelry and the cameo at Lake in the Clouds in Hawkeye’s care. Then she sat looking into the fire, and thinking of the way the day had begun.

  Elizabeth touched her mouth with a cold finger, feeling rather than seeing that her lips were still puffy and a bit tender. As was the saddle of flesh between her legs. She didn’t know if thoughts of Nathaniel could sustain her in the next hour, or if they would distract. In any case, he could not help her. She must do what she needed to do to secure her own future; it was one she hadn’t imagined on coming to Paradise, but it was what she wanted.

  Is it?

  Instead of moving into her beautiful new schoolhouse tomorrow, she would be on her way south, eloping. Eloping. The enormity of it struck her, and she felt her mouth go dry and sticky. Her students would think terrible things of her; they would probably hear them from their parents. Nathaniel was well liked, in spite of his connection to the Mohawk, but they wouldn’t like him helping himself to the judge’s daughter, and her property.

  Life would be easier if I had never met him, she whispered to herself, and was shocked at the sound of the words in the room. At the truth of them. Without Nathaniel, she could lead a good, important, rewarding life, teaching the children who came to her with a routine of books and work. Quiet, peaceful, safe.

  Boring. Lonely. Mastered.

  Things would be hard when they came back to Paradise, but she would build up her school, slowly. People would get over it, and then life would settle down to a routine.

  Elizabeth drew a deep breath, touched her handkerchief to the perspiration on her brow, and went down to the parlor.

  Suddenly and without a struggle, the judge acquiesced to fate. Richard had been called away to see to one of the Gloves’ slaves who had got his leg wedged underneath a falling tree on the far side of Hidden Wolf and no one knew how long he would be gone; Mr. Bennett had obligations in Johnstown and must be away in the morning. And here was Elizabeth, out of her sickbed to comply with her father’s wishes. There was no excuse the judge could offer that would not look strange and perhaps occasion questions from Mr. Bennett that he didn’t care to answer.

  The original patent was produced and examined, and subsequently the judge took his quill in hand and signed the deed of gift. Elizabeth and Mr. Bennett then countersigned the document. Finally, it was witnessed by Mr. Witherspoon, who had dropped in for the evening, and, with an especially notable flourish, by Curiosity Freeman. They drank Elizabeth’s health with Madeira. Without a trace of suspicion, Mr. Bennett congratulated Curiosity on her doctoring, and Elizabeth on her improved health.

  A single woman newly in possession of a good fortune, Elizabeth took her leave from her father and his guests, and retired to her bed.

  XXII

  She fell asleep. Deeply, utterly, completely asleep. Having feared that she would jitter to pieces waiting for the house to quiet, Elizabeth courted disaster of another kind. If not for Curiosity, she might have slept until morning.

  But Curiosity was there, and she came into Elizabeth’s room deep in the night. She brought with her a dark cloak, some bread and meat tied into a serviette, a cup of hot tea laced with rum, and a key.

  Silently, Elizabeth held up the last object and raised an eyebrow in question. By the light of the single candle, the stark, broad bones of Curiosity’s face came into relief; Elizabeth was glad to see her smile and become more familiar.

  “The sec’tary,” she whispered. And then, with a hug and a look which admonished and encouraged all at once, she slipped away, her white nightdress trailing behind her in a long comma.

  Her father’s secretary. Of course. He would have locked the deed of gift up with his other papers. Elizabeth closed her hand around the cold metal to steady her shaking.

  It was easier than she imagined, getting down the stairs and into the study. There wasn’t any time to waste, but she didn’t let herself think of that, or of anything but the key and the lock and the documents she needed. Even when it was open in front of her she didn’t dare to stop and breathe easy; by the light of her candle she sorted through the papers and found the ones she wanted, thrusting the others back into the cubbyhole, barely looking at them. Then she stopped.

  She pulled them out again, even as some other part of her mind screamed at her to get out, to go.

  There, on cream-colored heavy paper, a handwriting she had recognized, but more than that. Her own name. The letter from her aunt Merriweather, addressed to her. And opened. The seal broken. In the flickering light the careful pen strokes danced.

  The fourteenth day of March, 1793

  Oakmere

  My dearest niece Elizabeth,

  Never before in my life have I more wanted those magical powers which no mortal can possess. It is only by borrowing such divine gifts that I could transport this letter to you as quickly as I would wish. Such is my concern for your welfare and future.

  Elizabeth crumpled the letter against her breast as if the paper could stop the erratic beating of her heart. She dared not take the time to read the rest, or even to think about what she held in her hand, and what it might mean. She stuffed the letter into her pocket along with the deed of gift and the patent.

  With hands suddenly much more steady but a heart as cold and heavy as clay, she locked her father’s secretary and left his house, not bothering to take a last look around her at the rooms which she had thought would be her home for the rest of her life.

  It almost ended before it began.

  Elizabeth headed for the wood above the house, thinking of the shorter route to Hidden Wolf by way of the north end of Half Moon Lake. This took her around the barn, and there, where she had stood with Nathaniel two months ago, she walked into Kitty Witherspoon.

  They paused, both breathing hard, like statues in the moonlight. Kitty’s clothing was disturbed; a white breast glinted between the edges of the bodice she clutched in one hand. Her loosened hair hung in frowsy ropes to her waist. Her complexion was gray, but her eyes glittered.

  She opened her mouth; whether to speak or scream, to greet or condemn, Elizabeth never knew, because it was at that moment that Julian appeared at the open door of the barn.

  “Kitty dear,” he said, as if Elizabeth were not there at all, as if he were talking to a wife across the dinner table. “Come away now.”

  He considered Elizabeth for a long moment, one brow cocked. “Feeling better, are we, sister?”

  Then he glanced over his shoulder at Kitty, and with a shrug that conceded a battle lost, he disappeared into the dark.

  PART II

  Into the Wilderness

  XXIII

  April, 1793

  The night was close and very cool, dark but not dark; they moved through a world cast in a million shades of gray. Elizabeth peered out from under her tent of o
iled buckskin, her curiosity dampened but not banished by exhaustion. She balanced on the edge of sleep, rocked by the steady rhythm of the canoe as it traveled down the Sacandaga.

  It was her first canoe journey, but there hadn’t been any time to think about that, to worry about it or enjoy the prospect. Keeping watch had been work enough while the men retrieved the craft from its hiding place in the woods on the edge of Half Moon Lake. They had all been tense. Even Hawkeye’s usual commentary had been replaced by brisk hand signals as he directed the loading. It had seemed to Elizabeth that there couldn’t possibly be room for it all, furs and provisions and something that looked like a roll of bark, her own small pack, the weapons, and more. But it had all fit, and in very short order. And then without any discussion, Nathaniel and Runs-from-Bears had taken up their positions, sitting on their haunches at either end of the canoe with their paddles at the ready.

  Hawkeye had helped her into her place and walked out beside them until he stood in water to his knees. For the first time since they had left Lake in the Clouds he spoke to her, a few low words about the importance of keeping her balance, and the fragility of the birchbark craft in which she sat. Then he put his hand on Nathaniel’s head, spoke a few words to Bears, and after a moment’s hesitation, he leaned forward to touch Elizabeth’s cheek.

  “I still got my better stories to tell,” he said. “So keep your wits about you.” And he pushed them gently off.

  The canoe slid down the lake and past the village in just thirty silent strokes of the paddles. She counted, holding her breath. There was nothing to do, no other way to help. Right then, every nerve in her body alive and jumping, Elizabeth had believed that sleep would never again be possible. But an hour later, she settled enough to allow her to rest her weight against the pelts that separated her from Runs-from-Bears.

  Blinking sleepily, Elizabeth watched the riverbank, the looming shapes of trees, the wide expanse of grassy marshes which stretched sometimes as far as she could see on both sides of the river in a forest of gray-silver grasses rippling in the wind. The only constants were the running river and the tightly controlled swing of Nathaniel’s arms as he paddled. Behind her she could hear, if she tried hard, the slice of the paddle as Runs-from-Bears matched his rhythm to Nathaniel’s lead. In the end, the sounds of the night and the river and her own exhaustion conspired to lull her away.