by Sara Donati
“Not much. We settled him down at camp, far enough from the fortifications at Bemis Heights to be safe, and there he stayed through the next battle, until he was well enough to set up. By that time everything was said and done, Burgoyne routed and this whole place burned on retreat. Mr. Schuyler came up when the surrender was arranged, and fetched John. And that’s the story.”
“Nathaniel!” scolded Mrs. Schuyler. “False modesty does not become you in the least.”
“That’s what happened,” he repeated.
“Oh, yes, of course,” she said with a grim smile. “But you left out a few facts. For example, that you had to travel eight miles through enemy territory to find him.”
“That stands to reason,” he agreed. “Wouldn’t have been much challenge, otherwise.”
Mrs. Schuyler turned to Elizabeth. “Imagine,” she said. “Nathaniel, himself just nineteen, walking into the hay barn—It stood right over there, you see where the cows are grazing? That’s where they were holding John prisoner. And Nathaniel just picked him up and walked out as if he had been sent to fetch him. They could have shot them right there, but Nathaniel never blinked. And imagine he just keeps walking, past the troops and the officers and the artillery, with a big twelve-year-old across his shoulders, and he walks overland, through marsh and rough terrain, eight miles, until he gets to camp. For two weeks he manages to keep this boy alive—remember, in the middle of this he went off to fight in the Bemis Heights battle.”
“I wasn’t alone on the Heights,” Nathaniel muttered. “Anton over there did his part, and so did others on this place.”
“And fought so that Morgan and Arnold both came looking for him to see if he could be enticed to leave Sky-Wound-Round and join them. And through all this, he made sure our John was taken care of. Can you imagine that?”
“I can,” Elizabeth said without hesitation.
Sally Gerlach had been standing very still through the whole story, but now she came alive, breaking the spell in the room with her laugh. “A bride ain’t prone to disbelieve any good thing you got to say about her man,” she pointed out. “Just happens in this case it’s true.”
Mr. Schuyler was nodding. “So perhaps you won’t wonder that we were pleased to be of help to you today. And I will look after matters for you in Albany tomorrow, so that you can rest assured.”
At some gesture from Mrs. Schuyler, the servants began to clear the table, and she rose herself. “It’s been a long evening. Perhaps you are ready to retire?” There were grins around the table, which she extinguished like so many candles with a single severe sweep of her head.
“Yes,” said Elizabeth, wishing for some degree of poise that she didn’t possess. “Thank you very kindly.”
“We’ll say good night, then,” Nathaniel agreed.
“Ma!” said Rensselaer. “What are you talking about? It’s not ten of the clock yet.”
“Aye, you’re right,” said Nathaniel as he helped Elizabeth up. “But we’ve had a long day, you understand, and my bride is uncommon tired. As you can plainly see.”
Elizabeth put a hand on his sleeve. “If you’d like to have a drink with the gentlemen—”
He hesitated.
“Please go ahead,” she said, quite sincerely wishing that he would, thinking that right now it would be very good to have a few minutes to herself.
Nathaniel wasn’t grinning at her anymore; there was something else there, a kindness and an understanding that made her breathe easier. She nodded and had begun to turn away when he caught her by the wrist and pulled her up short.
“I won’t be long,” he said against her hair. “Don’t go to sleep without me.”
It was not so very dark that he needed a candle to find his way to her. There was moonlight, and in it, Elizabeth asleep. He stood there and watched her for many minutes, until he could believe what he was seeing: his own good fortune. She slept deeply, her head turned hard to one side to reveal the line of her throat rising up from the simple nightdress, her skin as white and as soft as the light itself. Nathaniel watched her sleep, and then he lay beside her and listened to the sounds of the house settling in for the night, and the way she breathed, and the beat of her heart. And he lay watching Elizabeth sleep and wondering at himself, how he had come to this place in his life, that he should have this woman beside him as his wife.
He slept, finally. Chastely and completely content.
XXVI
She woke in waves, coming up from her dreams reluctantly. It was colder; there was rain at the window, drumming softly, a persistent spring shower in the first filtered gray light. Elizabeth stretched, and turned, and there he was, Nathaniel, watching her. Lying on his side, the bare skin of his arms and shoulders covered with gooseflesh.
“You’re all cold,” she said, raising the blanket so that he could slip under. And he came up against her, his long body against hers, and put his forehead to her temple.
“You’re all warm.” His arms went around her easily and they lay quietly in the pooling of their heat and breath, until she turned her face to him, her lips just brushing the stubble on his cheek.
“I fell asleep,” she said. “You should have waked me.”
“Aye, well. You’re awake now, and so am I.” His hands were revolving in slow circles on her back, and his gaze was low and steady and not in the least sleepy.
“Nathaniel?”
“Hmmmm?”
“There was a conversation we didn’t finish yesterday.”
“Forgive me, Boots, but I don’t want to talk about your father just now.” His mouth touched the crest of her cheekbone and she shivered.
“I didn’t mean that,” she said, stemming her hands on his bare chest, feeling the beat of his heart against her palms.
He drew back a little, his teeth flashing. Her wicked, wolflike husband.
“What you said about … satisfaction,” she managed to say.
“Ah,” said Nathaniel, looking quite satisfied himself. “I knew you’d be thinking about that.”
“Well,” she said, when it was clear that he was more interested in exploring the soft flesh below her ear than he was in talking. “Are you going to explain?”
“Explanations at this hour of the morning?” He shook his head, one hand slipping down the length of her thigh and starting its return, bringing the hem of her nightgown with it. “But a careful demonstration, that’s another thing altogether.”
“It’s daylight,” she said quite softly, and without conviction.
“So it is. But we’ve done this before in the daylight. In fact, we’ve only done this in the daylight, and it’s worked out pretty fine, I’d say.”
She pressed her mouth together hard, her brow furrowed.
“Must you tease me?”
“Now that you ask,” he said, his hand continuing in his upward quest. “It is my understanding that as your husband it’s not only my right but my duty to tease you. And it’s a task I’ll take to heart, in case you had any doubts.” He nuzzled her neck, and she arched against him as one hand settled on her bare hip.
“Nathaniel,” she said, pushing away. “I need to—There’s something—”
Reluctantly, he let her go. “Aye, well. Then see to it, Boots, but my patience ain’t bottomless, you do realize.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, grinning herself this time. “I do realize that much.” She slipped out of the bed and took her dress from its peg on the wall, and pulled it over her head, nightgown and all. Then she stepped into her shoes.
“You’re not going out in the rain,” Nathaniel said, astonished. “Not when there’s a perfectly good alternate sitting right under the bed?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I am,” she confirmed.
“But why?”
“Because for the next few weeks or perhaps more I’ll have to do without the Necessary, won’t I. But today I can still take advantage of the privacy.” She draped her shawl over her head and around her shoulders.
“
I don’t see that walking through the rain is an advantage,” he mumbled. “Seems like a damn inconvenience to me.”
“You’re not a woman.”
He grunted. “At least you noticed that much.” He rolled on his side and held out a hand toward her. “Give me a kiss, before you go out into the wet.”
But she was already at the door, fluttering her fingers at him.
Nathaniel lay back against the pillows, his hands crossed behind his head, and watched the rain misting. It was just sunup, but they would have to be on their way within the hour. Less, if they could manage it. No time for lessons in satisfaction, or anything else, for that matter. Sooner or later Todd or the judge would think to look to Saratoga.
They would have to lie low until Schuyler had a chance to deal with the authorities and the paperwork in Albany, and then to wait at least two weeks beyond that point, moving for the whole time. Todd would be after them; of that Nathaniel had no doubt. With a sigh of regret he made himself throw back the covers and get out of bed, stretching expansively. He used the pottery contrivance Elizabeth had not wanted, noting with some amusement the elaborate motif of flowers and angels which decorated it inside and out. Then, yawning, he reached for his leggings, happening to look out the window. From this part of the house he could see the kitchen garden, the new-tilled earth dark and damp and fertile in the warm spring, and beyond it, the pastures that lay between the house and the wood.
In that moment, a man appeared at the edge of the forest where it gave way to the cow pasture. He paused there, looking sharp, and started toward the house. He was wearing a cap, but his beard glinted gold-red even in the faint light. There was the spark of a knife at his belt and the barrel of a long rifle protruded from over his shoulder. He was dressed like a backwoodsman, but he moved like a Kahnyen’kehàka hunter.
One part of Nathaniel’s mind knew what he would see before his eyes had followed the trajectory: Elizabeth emerging from the outhouse, her head bowed under the shawl to keep the misting rain off her face. Richard Todd was moving fast and he would intercept her just as she reached the kitchen door. A minute was enough time, but just.
Nathaniel had his rifle in his hands and had checked the powder pan and load in twenty seconds; in another fifteen he was standing in his breechclout and bare feet with his sights trained on Mrs. Schuyler’s kitchen door, at a height of precisely five feet and ten inches. Five inches taller than Elizabeth; three inches shorter than Richard Todd.
Sally Gerlach stood at the board with her hands in a vat of dough, and stared at the half-naked man before her.
“Open the door,” he said calmly.
“I need to wipe my hands.”
“Nathaniel!” Elizabeth screamed from outside.
“Open it now,” he said again. “Or I’ll shoot through it.”
For her age and size she moved fast. Dipping under his sights, she grabbed the handle with one floury hand and threw the door back with a crash.
“Mother of God!” she shouted.
Elizabeth was turned from them, struggling to pull away from Richard Todd. He had hold of her upper arm, leaning over her with a look of outrage so bitter that it made Nathaniel’s nerves hum. His finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger.
She was looking over her shoulder at him in fear and outrage. Nathaniel sensed rather than saw this, for his attention was focused, clear and razor sharp, down the barrel of his rifle to a spot just above Richard Todd’s left eyebrow.
“Dr. Todd,” he said without smiling. “Early, ain’t it, for a morning call? I’ll ask you just once to take your hands off my wife, and I hope you’ll take heed, man. It would be a shame to make a mess of Sally’s floor.”
Richard’s expression went suddenly blank and his eyes narrowed. He hesitated for two heartbeats and then, with a disdainful jerk of his hands, he released Elizabeth.
She stumbled into the kitchen, pulling her shawl around herself. With a look divided between disgust and complete fury, she came to stand, very straight and still, behind Nathaniel.
Nathaniel slowly lowered his rifle, but kept his finger on the trigger. At that moment, Runs-from-Bears appeared in the door frame behind Richard, his tomahawk in one hand.
Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath.
“Don’t worry, Boots,” Nathaniel said easily. “No harm is going to come to Dr. Todd today. Unless he puts himself in harm’s way. Ain’t that so, Bears?”
Richard still hadn’t spoken. His face, as impassive as it had been, settled even further.
“Sally,” Nathaniel said easily, his eyes still fixed on Richard. “I think Mr. Schuyler would like to know he’s got company.”
“Yes, indeed,” Richard spoke up. “Tell him we’ve got a matter of the law to deal with, and we’d appreciate his counsel.”
The woman hesitated, touching Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should come along with me,” she said. “Mrs. Bonner?”
“Don’t call her that!” Richard fairly spat.
“That is my name.” Elizabeth spoke before Nathaniel could. From the corner of his eye he could see her, her chin up, her eyes flashing with a heat and trembling anger he had never before experienced from her. But she had control of herself, and Nathaniel was pleased to see that.
“And I’ll thank you not to interfere in things that are none of your business,” she concluded.
Nathaniel watched Richard closely, seeing the way he struggled with his temper, ready to act if he lost the battle.
“This is my business,” Richard said finally. “And I have no doubt Mr. Schuyler will agree that the law’s on my side here.”
“Ja, and the devil, too, most likely,” muttered Sally Gerlach, and she turned to leave the kitchen.
· · ·
They assembled in the parlor, at Mr. Schuyler’s insistence, at eight o’clock. This gave Elizabeth and Nathaniel time to dress, and Richard Todd time to clean up and collect himself.
Thus Elizabeth found herself in almost exactly the same spot where she had stood to be married, less than a day ago, once again with Nathaniel at her side but this time with Richard Todd’s cold and angry stare to contend with. Elizabeth was calm, now that there was nothing left to do but confront him. She thought over what had come to pass, and could not find it in herself to either regret or be ashamed of what she had done. This gave her the ability to meet Richard’s stare with complete equanimity.
Mr. Schuyler stood, with his arms at his side, in front of the hearth, and kept his silence while they took their places. He was stern and closemouthed, his dark eyes hooded. He had been dressing for travel when Sally had knocked in much agitation on his door, but he had handled the strange situation in his kitchen as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. Now, Elizabeth could not tell if he was angry, and if so, where his anger was focused. In any case, the friendly and deferential man who had told stories at her wedding party was gone.
“There is some business that needs to be aired, it seems,” he began. He pursed his mouth, glanced at each of them in turn, and then carried on. “Perhaps Dr. Todd will tell us to what end he has intruded on the peace of my household and attacked one of my guests.” This was said very quietly, but there was no doubt that Mr. Schuyler would have an answer.
Elizabeth saw a flicker of doubt on Richard’s face.
“That’s simple enough,” he said. His voice was hoarse, as if he had been shouting. He looked directly at Elizabeth and ignored Nathaniel.
“I’m here to fetch Elizabeth Middleton back to Paradise, at her father’s request.”
“Am I a sack of flour, or one of your runaway slaves?” Elizabeth began, but Mr. Schuyler shook his head gently at her. At the same time she felt Nathaniel’s hand at her elbow. She dropped her head to gather her thoughts.
“I am an adult, in full possession of my faculties,” she said, and then she met Mr. Schuyler’s gaze. “And as you know, sir, I am a married woman. Dr. Todd had no right to order me about before I married, and he has less now.”<
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“You are not legally married,” Richard countered. Elizabeth felt Nathaniel stiffen beside her, but Mr. Schuyler spoke first.
“I beg to differ,” he said. “Nathaniel?”
Without taking his gaze away from Richard, Nathaniel took a piece of paper from his shirt and handed it to Philip Schuyler.
“A signed marriage contract,” he affirmed. “Witnessed by myself and my lady, yesterday evening in this room. They are legally wed, Dr. Todd, and—pardon me, Elizabeth—Nathaniel, I assume the marriage was consummated? Yes. Well. So whatever your feelings on this, Dr. Todd, there is nothing you can do about it.” He hesitated, and then spoke quickly. “I might also add that your behavior this morning shows an appalling lack of manners and good breeding.”
“Miss Middleton had made a legally binding vow to me,” Richard said softly. “And I intend to hold her to those terms.”
Elizabeth uttered something between an outraged laugh and an oath.
“That’s a lie,” Nathaniel said. “And he knows it himself.”
“I have witnesses.” Richard had gone very pale.
“Another lie,” Elizabeth spat.
“I see no such witnesses here, Dr. Todd.” Mr. Schuyler’s calm was now offset by splashes of red which appeared suddenly on his cheeks and neck. “This marriage has taken place and is legal. Whatever else you may seek to undertake in terms of action against the lady—assuming that your evidence does indeed exist—I would hope that you would be gentleman enough to accept the fact that her favor has been granted elsewhere.”
“I am man enough to claim what is mine,” Richard responded.
“Richard Todd,” Elizabeth said, her voice trembling with a deep, unrelenting anger. “How can you stand there and utter such an outrageous lie? I never made you any promise, and I most certainly did not make a public vow.”
He blinked, slowly, his head swiveling toward her in what seemed an endless arc.
“Your father is in debt to me,” he said. “As you know. If you do not honor your vow”—he continued to speak over her rising protests—“then I will simply take his property. All of it.”