by Cox, Carol
“I’m sure you’ve heard their names before, gentlemen. Lucretia Mott and Elizabeth Cady Stanton will long be remembered for the part they held.” Elizabeth tried to stem her excitement at the thought of her heroines. “Eight long years passed before they convened the first women’s rights convention in Seneca Falls. Even then, their success was measured more in the sense of accomplishment for taking this momentous step than in realizing any tangible gains.
“Explain to me, if you can, why so many northern men could recognize the iniquity of slavery but continue to hold their sisters, wives, and daughters in what is tantamount to a benevolent captivity?”
“Oh, I say! Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?” Thomas expostulated. “Look at the ladies here tonight. I don’t believe one of them would think of themselves as deprived. When do you think was the last time any of them were denied anything?”
“Exactly my point, Mr. Brady. They’ve been spoiled and cosseted, treated more like pampered pets than thinking human beings. That in itself denies them the ability to think for themselves. And women are thinking creatures.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Elliot Carpenter straightening in his chair and suppressed a satisfied smile. He was listening now, really listening. And she had barely gotten started.
“Women have proven their worth over and over again. Elizabeth Blackwell won her medical degree in 1849. Was that a feat some ‘frivolous woman’ could have accomplished? And only a few years ago during the war, Elizabeth Cady Stanton helped organize the Women’s Loyal National League. Those women managed to gather over three hundred thousand signatures on a petition demanding that the Senate abolish slavery by a constitutional amendment. Three hundred thousand! That was not the work of a group of tea-sipping females who had nothing but cotton wool between their ears.
“God gave us minds, gentlemen. I believe He did not equip us with intelligence and plenty of drive if He did not intend for us to use them.”
“But you’ve just proven women do use their minds and in very profitable ways.” Elliot Carpenter scooted his chair closer to Elizabeth’s and faced her squarely. “Having the right to mark a ballot won’t change any of these God-given attributes.”
Elizabeth’s temper flared at the sight of his self-satisfied smile. Making a deliberate effort to keep her indignation in check, she held his gaze with hers, measuring her words with care. “Less than a century ago, our forefathers were able to use their gifts and abilities, but they felt strongly about being allowed to govern themselves. I see no difference, Mr. Carpenter.”
“I see a great difference!” Elliot sputtered, shaken from his easy calm. “That was about taxation and commerce and—”
“And self-respect,” Elizabeth put in. “As thinking men, they wanted the opportunity to have a say in matters that concerned them. Thinking women want no less.”
The debate continued in earnest, with Thomas and Elliot voicing their long-held beliefs as though talking to another man and Elizabeth fielding their questions and objections with ease.
The library door swung open abruptly. “I thought I heard voices,” said a shrill female voice. “Who is in here?”
The four occupants of the room jumped as if caught in some misdeed. Elizabeth blinked, realizing for the first time how low the fire burned in the hearth. “It’s just James and me, Mother,” she called. “And two of his friends. We’ve been talking.”
Cora Simmons stepped through the doorway, lips parted in disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me that this is where you’ve been all night? I was given to understand that you were fulfilling your responsibilities in attending to my guests. Have you been shut up in here the whole time? With three men?” Her piercing voice rose to a higher pitch with every syllable.
James and his visitors took their cue, rising with alacrity to bid their hostess good night. While James and Elliot Carpenter were thus occupied, Thomas Brady took advantage of the opportunity to bow over Elizabeth’s hand.
“Thank you for a most informative evening,” he said. “You have given me much to think about. And since I’m about to leave,” he added, one corner of his mouth twitching upward, “I will repeat my former statement. Despite your own opinion, Miss Simmons, you are a lovely lady. Perhaps when you look in the mirror, you have never noticed the way your hair glistens with a chestnut sheen or watched your eyes flash green fire when your emotions are aroused. But I have, and I am utterly captivated.” He gave a quick nod and turned away before Elizabeth could think of a suitable retort.
Thomas joined his companions in thanking Mrs. Simmons for an enjoyable evening. Elizabeth heard her mother acknowledge their speeches politely but noted her decidedly cool response. In the dim glow from the fireplace, with the only other light filtering in from the hall, the light gray streaks were no longer visible in hair that had once been a vibrant red. Nor could anyone see the lines of discontent etched on her face. Cora’s slender build looked almost girlish, and in the waning light, Elizabeth could glimpse traces of her mother’s former beauty.
“I’ll see you gentlemen to the door,” Cora said. “The other guests have already taken their leave.” She herded the three subdued men through the open doorway, then turned to face her daughter. “Elizabeth, you will remain here until I return. . .with your father. This unseemly behavior of yours has gone too far.”
Elizabeth watched the door close, knowing a storm was about to break. How many times had they played out a similar scene in the past? This time, though, the play would have an entirely different ending. She moved to the fireplace and checked behind the mantel clock, reassuring herself the papers were where she had left them that afternoon. Her original intention had been to show them to her family tomorrow, but it appeared her plan would have to be revised.
Even so, she would make sure tonight’s confrontation would be as much to her advantage as possible. Elizabeth stirred the fire back to life with the poker and lit two lamps, placing them on low tables and arranging the seating to best suit her strategy. By the time she heard voices in the hallway outside, she stood ready, determined to take control of the confrontation to come.
Her mother entered the room first, eyes blazing. Elizabeth’s father followed, an obviously unwilling participant. Before the door closed, Carrie slipped into the room with her usual quick grace, with Virginia, the middle sister, gliding in behind her. Carrie moved at once to a pocket of shadow near the bookcase, while Virginia positioned herself near their mother, her smirk indicating she planned to enjoy the fun.
Elizabeth acted quickly before she could lose her advantage. “Sit here, please, Mother,” she said, pointing to the comfortable leather chair she had recently vacated. Cora gaped at the order but sank into the seat indicated. “Carrie, Virginia, you may sit in the wing chairs.” Elizabeth smiled inwardly, watching her sisters’ predictable placement, with Virginia taking the chair nearest their mother and Carrie scooting slightly closer to Elizabeth.
“Father—”
“I’ll stand, thank you.” His tone sounded gruff, but he smiled at his eldest daughter with genuine affection, tilting up the corners of his mustache and puffing his rounded cheeks. The smile faded when he turned to face his wife. “What’s this all about, Cora? Can’t it wait until morning?”
“No, Monroe, it cannot.” Cora had recovered from her initial confusion. “We need to discuss the disgraceful behavior of your daughter.”
“Which one?” The feigned ignorance in those hazel eyes so like her own made Elizabeth want to burst out laughing. As if he didn’t know! Creamy-skinned Virginia, whose only interests in life consisted of social prominence and an ample supply of creature comforts, was very much the product of her mother’s upbringing. Cora would never find fault with her. And Carrie, with her gentle spirit, might agree with most of Elizabeth’s views but would never openly defy her mother. Tonight’s culprit would be the same daughter who had always caused her mother distress, and well Monroe knew that.
Apparently, Cora thought so, too. Her nost
rils flared as she drew a deep breath and pressed her lips together. Elizabeth, realizing she might soon lose her opportunity, hurried to seize the moment.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” she began, ignoring her mother’s gasp of surprise and the appreciative twinkle in her father’s eyes. “I had planned to discuss something with you tomorrow morning, but I believe this would be a better time.” She stepped across to the fireplace and drew two envelopes from behind the mantel clock. “Both of these letters arrived in this afternoon’s post. I’ve only opened the one addressed to me, but I believe I can tell you what you’ll find in the other one.”
“Whatever are you babbling about?” Cora stretched out her hand in a silent demand for the letters, but Elizabeth moved away from her. “You are the topic of discussion here, young lady, and those letters can be of no possible interest to us right now.”
Monroe rocked back on his heels, eyeing Elizabeth shrewdly. “She’s a sharp girl, Cora. Let her have her say.” He nodded at Elizabeth. “All right, tell us what’s in the letter.”
“As I said, I haven’t opened this one,” she said, handing the envelope to him. “It’s addressed to you and Mother, from Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett. I believe when you read it, you’ll find an account of how Mrs. Bartlett suffered severe injuries in a fall.”
“Letitia?” For once, her mother seemed concerned about someone other than herself. “What happened? Will she recover?”
“According to Mr. Bartlett’s letter, she slipped on a patch of ice on the path outside their home and fractured her right arm when she tried to break her fall. She landed up against the porch steps, and the force of the blow cracked a rib and caused some deep bruising.” Elizabeth watched her mother’s face grow pale and took pity on her. “They are sure she will recover, but it will take time.”
“Poor Letitia!” Cora pressed her hand to her heaving bosom. “However will she manage out in that forsaken wilderness? Why Richard insisted on dragging her out to such a horrid wasteland, I will never know.”
“He didn’t have much choice,” Monroe answered drily. “Running a cotton mill during the war was not a money-making proposition. That political appointment came at an opportune time.”
“But to take a refined woman like that to a place inhabited only by ruffians and savages!” Cora dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—it was a heartless thing to do.”
“And how does this concern you, Elizabeth?” Monroe asked. “You said this had some bearing on your wanting to talk to us.”
“It does.” Elizabeth drew a deep breath, studying the faces of her family. “You’re quite right, Mother. While Mrs. Bartlett is expected to recover, she requires a great deal of help. This letter,” she said, holding up the remaining missive, “is a request for me to travel to Arizona Territory to give her the help she needs.”
Two
Cora’s shriek of dismay was the only sound in the room. Carrie and Virginia stared at Elizabeth wordlessly, and even Monroe seemed taken aback. “Why you?” he asked incredulously. “Granted, we’ve known the Bartletts for years, but you’ve never been particularly close to them. I wouldn’t have guessed they were especially fond of you.”
“Actually, this was more my doing than theirs.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders, framing her answer carefully. She was painfully aware that a misstep now might prove to be her undoing. “Last December, I wrote to the Bartletts, asking if I might visit them for a time.” Cora uttered a strangled cry. Elizabeth flinched but went on. “I received no response, and I didn’t know whether my message had reached them or not. I wrote again a month ago, repeating my request. My letter arrived shortly after Mrs. Bartlett was injured. This time, Mr. Bartlett was quick to reply.”
“You asked to go there?” Bewilderment flooded Carrie’s features. “But why, Elizabeth?”
Blessing her sister for providing the very opening she needed, Elizabeth gathered her courage and plunged ahead. “I want to see what Arizona has to offer. The territory was created only four years ago. It’s young, wide open, and waiting for people of initiative and drive. It’s a perfect place to test a person’s mettle and see if their dreams—if my dreams—can succeed.”
Virginia brushed her auburn curls back in a languorous gesture. “And once you’ve thoroughly explored the possibilities, I suppose you’ll come back and enlighten those of us without your spirit of adventure,” she taunted.
“That’s just it,” Elizabeth stated. “I’m not coming back.” This time even Monroe gasped. “My plans have been made for some time,” she continued before anyone else could speak. “I only needed the opportunity to set them in motion. I’ll be able to get acquainted with the area while I’m tending to Mrs. Bartlett. That will give me the chance I need to see what goods or services the territory needs. When I’m ready, I’ll set up my own business and see what I can make of myself.”
“And just how do you plan to support yourself?” Cora drew herself erect. “Do you think for one minute your father and I will finance this mad expedition?”
“I don’t need your backing, Mother,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Don’t forget the money Grandmother Simmons left me. It’s mine, free and clear, to do with as I wish. And since I’m a year past my twenty-first birthday, I don’t have to ask anyone’s permission to do this.”
For a full minute, only the ticking of the mantel clock intruded on the stunned silence. Then Carrie spoke, her blue-green eyes wide with dismay. “Oh, Elizabeth, I can’t imagine it! You, all alone out there in a savage country. However will you manage?” Her voice softened to a dreamy sigh. “But what a glorious adventure it will be!”
Elizabeth smiled her appreciation at Carrie and glanced toward her other sister. Virginia contented herself with lounging back in her chair and expressing her feelings with a disdainful smirk.
Monroe’s face wore a faraway look. “It reminds me of the way I felt when I was young,” he murmured. “Opportunities abounded for a person with grit and determination—those were exciting days.”
“Have you all gone quite mad?” Cora screeched, digging her fingers into the damask upholstery. She turned to Monroe, directing the brunt of her fury at him. “You’re to blame for this! You’ve treated her more like a son than a daughter since the day she was born. What kind of father lets his daughter accompany him to his factory from the time she could walk? I ask you, what possible interest could a decent young lady have in metalworks? Monroe, I have done my best and been thwarted at every turn. I have made every effort to bring Elizabeth up in a genteel fashion, yet you’ve continued to discuss business matters and current affairs with her as though she were one of your cronies.
“As if that weren’t enough, your mother filled her head with all sorts of unfeminine notions she gleaned from her friendship with that Stanton woman. I told you no good would come of it when she left that sum of money to Elizabeth. I hold you completely accountable for this!” she fumed, red-faced, her bosom heaving.
Monroe’s forbidding expression could have been chiseled out of granite. “If you’re saying I’m responsible for honing Elizabeth’s mind and developing her character, Cora, I’ll take that as a compliment. She has a fine intellect and a keen wit, not to mention a good head for business. More than once, I’ve profited from her insight. And as far as my mother’s influence is concerned, I can only say I’m sorry she didn’t have a greater impact on all our daughters.”
Ignoring Cora’s gasp of outrage, he stared into the fire for a moment, then turned to Elizabeth, his features softening. “I’ll miss you, my dear, but I wish you every success. You have my blessing.”
With a rush of gratitude, Elizabeth flung herself into his open arms.
❧
Three days later, Elizabeth stood before her open trunk, trying to wedge in one more dress. Carrie added her weight to the trunk lid and together they managed to close the latch.
“How I envy you, Elizabeth.” Carrie settled herself on the ed
ge of the bed with a little flounce, her aquamarine eyes alight with excitement. “If only I had the courage, I’d go with you.”
Elizabeth whirled from the dressing table where she was placing the last of her personal effects into a reticule. “Would you, Carrie? I have plenty of money to pay your way. If the Bartletts don’t have room for both of us, I’ll find a place for you to live until we get our bearings.”
Carrie shook her head ruefully. The red-gold tendrils framing her fine-boned face caught the shaft of morning sunlight streaming through the window. “I know myself too well. Though I admire you with all my heart, I don’t have your strength of character. Much as I hate to admit it, I’m far too much a product of Mama’s upbringing. I’d never have the gumption to give up the comforts of home and go off like that, with only myself to rely upon.”
The young girl sighed and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I shall have to experience all my adventures through you, so you must be sure to write often and tell me absolutely everything that is going on. Promise?”
“I promise.” Elizabeth bent to give her sister a warm hug.
“What a touching scene,” Virginia said from the doorway, her lip curled in a contemptuous sneer. “But after that exhibition of yours the other night, I should have expected nothing less than high drama.” She moved to a pile of dresses next to Elizabeth’s trunk and fingered the rich fabrics. “You’re leaving these behind? I’d try to feel sorry for you, but out where you’re going you’ll be more in need of homespun and buckskin, won’t you?”
“Contrary to what you and Mother believe,” Elizabeth retorted, “what lies within a person’s heart is far more important than what clothes the surface. My wardrobe is perfectly adequate.”