Land Of Promise

by Cox, Carol

  Letitia’s hands knotted in the folds of her quilt. “And they sent you home?”

  “They sent everyone home while he and Alsap go over the books. I’m sure it will come to nothing. More than likely, a clerical error. It’s sure to turn up before long.”

  He beamed and rubbed his hands together. “In the meantime, let’s celebrate your progress. With you on the mend, Elizabeth will have time to pursue a social life,” he said, emphasizing the last two words.

  Letitia’s mouth formed an O. “You’re right. We were just discussing that, weren’t we, Elizabeth? Now we’ll be able to pay you back for your kindness and help you meet a fine young man. Doesn’t that sound like a good plan, Richard?”

  “Yes, and the sooner the better. We’ve imposed upon her good nature for far too long.” He pulled two letters from his coat pocket and glanced at the envelopes. He handed the top one to Letitia. “And this one’s for you, Elizabeth.”

  “Thank you.” She accepted the letter without looking at it, not wanting to be sidetracked. “But please don’t feel you owe me anything. It was my choice to come out here, and that was to seek out business opportunities, not to enlist you as matchmakers.”

  She waved her hands as she spoke, and the envelope flew from her fingers, landing on the floor near Letitia’s feet. Letitia bent forward and stared down at it, then gave Elizabeth a sharp glance.

  “Who spends so much time writing to you? That’s the same handwriting I’ve seen on several other letters, and I know it isn’t your mother’s.”

  It is none of your business who does or doesn’t write to me. As Elizabeth scooped up the envelope bearing James’s bold scrawl, an idea dawned in her mind. Maybe she could convince them she didn’t need to find a beau.

  “It’s from a dear friend at home,” she said brightly. “A gentleman friend.”

  Their reaction couldn’t have been more satisfactory. Letitia gaped; Richard sputtered.

  The Bartletts exchanged a long glance. “Is it—”

  Richard cleared his throat, interrupting Letitia. “Is it a serious relationship?” he asked. “As your protector while you are away from your father’s care, I feel a responsibility for you. What are this man’s intentions?”

  Elizabeth suppressed a smile. Here was her chance to lay their plans to rest once and for all. “You remember James Reilly, don’t you? I can assure you his intentions are entirely honorable.” The memory of their childhood pledge popped into her mind. “As a matter of fact,” she added with a playful laugh, “he asked me to marry him some time ago.”

  Letitia’s anguished cry echoed through the parlor. Richard’s jaw hung slack.

  Elizabeth stared at them, mystified. Why should her marriage plans—or lack of them—matter to the Bartletts one way or another? She hadn’t expected to shock them so. Still, if that tidbit of information put an end to their scheming, so be it.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Letitia demanded. “You should have let us know you had an understanding with this man, instead of coming to us under false pretenses.”

  Elizabeth blinked at her. She turned to Richard, hoping for some explanation, but he stood as if frozen, staring across the room. He clutched one hand to his chest, and his face took on a grayish hue.

  He looks like he’s about to collapse. Dear Lord, what have I done? Elizabeth took a tentative step toward him, but he waved her away and staggered toward the door.

  “I must let Timothy know,” he called to Letitia, just before the door closed.

  Time seemed to stop, while Elizabeth’s mind whirled, trying to make some sense of what had just happened. Richard looked terrible, and somehow she felt responsible.

  “Do you think he’ll be all right? Should I go after him?”

  Letitia directed such a malevolent glare at Elizabeth that she held up her hands, as if warding off a physical blow. “Leave him alone. You’ve done enough.”

  “But all I said was—”

  “You said more than enough. If something does happen to him, it will be your fault. Now take me to my bedroom. I need to lie down.”

  Elizabeth complied without a word.

  ❧

  Pale gray light seeped into Elizabeth’s room. She had struggled throughout the night to comprehend what she had done to stir up such a hornet’s nest, but she was no closer to understanding Richard’s strange behavior than before. Her memory of the previous evening remained a blur of catering to Letitia’s every whim, then turning out the lights and settling in for the night. Later, the click of the front door marked Richard’s return, followed by urgent whispers coming from Letitia’s room.

  She hadn’t even had the energy to light a candle at bedtime, let alone undress. She lowered her feet to the floor and pushed herself upright, feeling as frowsy and rumpled as her clothing.

  She had hoped for enlightenment during the long night hours, for clarity of thought that would show her what she’d done. Instead, she only felt confused and resentful at the treatment she had received.

  The light grew stronger. Elizabeth reached for her Bible as though grasping a lifeline. Somewhere in its pages, she ought to find some answers. Pastor Whitcomb had been particularly fond of Ephesians. She turned to the spot, her gaze settling on the fourth chapter.

  “ ‘And be ye kind one to another. . .’ ” Ha! The Bartletts have shown me anything but kindness. “ ‘. . .tenderhearted, forgiving one another. . .’ ” Another area where they fell short. A less tender heart than Letitia Bartlett’s would be hard to find.

  Forgiving one another. . . Wait a minute, Lord. Am I supposed to hold them blameless for the outrageous way they’ve treated me?

  Maybe one of the Gospels would have the comfort she sought. Matthew, perhaps.

  “ ‘And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?’ ”

  Elizabeth read the passage through twice, then read it again. “No, Lord. It’s the other way around. They have the beam; I have the mote.”

  She flipped through the pages hurriedly. Surely there would be a verse that would shed light on how wrong the Bartletts were.

  “ ‘Obey them that have the rule over you. . . .’ ” She slammed her Bible shut. The Bartletts didn’t rule her life. No, but they invited you here and let you stay in their home without charge. But that didn’t put them in authority over her, did it?

  Didn’t it?

  “All right, Lord, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for their generosity. This is their home, and I’m only a guest here. I’ll try to be more kind, but I’m going to need Your help.”

  She picked out a clean dress and prepared to fix breakfast.

  Eleven

  Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.

  Michael stared at Paul’s words to the Ephesians, then slowly closed the leather cover and sat with his hands folded atop his Bible.

  He wished the full meaning of the words could somehow seep from the printed page through his fingers, then into his mind. No, his mind understood them all right. He needed to have them imprinted on his heart. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Hadn’t he done everything possible to show his father the value of putting God first in his life? Hadn’t he given up prospects for a bright future in Albany for his sake?

  And for what? To watch his father pawing a woman of ill repute right out in public? The memory of the scene he’d witnessed sickened him.

  No son could have done more than he had. Few would have done as much. He couldn’t think of one thing more he could do.

  “And having done all, to stand.”

  Michael spread his arms wide and turned his face toward heaven. “Stand, Lord? Just stand by and watch while he brings more shame to our family?”

  His words seemed to bounce back off the ceiling. Silence settled around him like a blanket.

  “Why is it so difficult just to stand and watc
h You work, Lord? I know my limits, know them all too well. It seems a simple enough thing to step back and get out of Your way, but it’s harder than it sounds. I guess I never thought of standing firm for my beliefs as being such a passive job.”

  The memory of Elizabeth Simmons lecturing the men in the mercantile came to mind. Michael chuckled, despite his frustration. Elizabeth’s brand of feistiness was far more in line with what he’d always thought of as standing up for one’s convictions.

  Now there was a woman who knew what she believed and stood ready to defend it. Just the thought of those flashing hazel eyes and all that energy wrapped up in such a petite frame lightened his mood. Under other circumstances, he’d think seriously about paying Miss Elizabeth Simmons a call.

  That pleasant image dissolved when he pictured himself climbing the porch steps of the Bartlett house. For the hundredth time, he wondered how such a vibrant woman could be associated with that couple. It didn’t make sense.

  Michael returned his Bible to its place on the corner of his desk and straightened a stack of invoices. He probably ought to declare Elizabeth strictly out-of-bounds. But he had the uneasy feeling she had already staked a claim in his heart.

  ❧

  “Good morning.”

  Richard and Letitia looked up when Elizabeth entered the kitchen.

  She made her way to the stove, determined to follow the Scriptures and show them kindness. She glanced at her charge while she cracked eggs into a large bowl. Either Richard had helped Letitia with her clothing or she had managed to dress on her own. A quick look at Richard revealed he had regained his normal color, a welcome sight after last night’s scare.

  Richard slid an unopened envelope across the table to his wife. “It’s from Muriel Stephens, back home. I found it on the parlor floor. You never did read it yesterday after. . .”

  “After that spectacle Elizabeth put on,” Letitia finished for him. She opened the letter without further comment.

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to make a retort, then clenched her teeth and concentrated on whipping the eggs into a frothy mass. While they cooked, she sliced off thick slabs of bread and set out bowls of jelly along with the place settings.

  “Be ye kind to one another, tenderhearted.” She slid the eggs onto a serving platter and reached for the coffeepot.

  Letitia gasped. “Oh, Richard!”

  Elizabeth pivoted so quickly that several scalding droplets splashed on her hand. “What is it? Are you ill?” She set the coffeepot on the table and dabbed at her hand with a dish towel.

  Letitia waved her hand as if shooing away a fly and shoved the letter at her husband. “Richard, read this.” She indicated a point halfway down the page.

  Richard’s features sharpened as he skimmed the letter, then spread the sheet of paper out and went over the message a second time. He raised his gaze to meet Letitia’s.

  Elizabeth blew on the spot where the hot drops had spattered on her skin and tried to decipher the unspoken messages that flashed between the couple.

  “Is everything all right? Have you had bad news?”

  A delighted smile lit Richard’s face, to be swiftly replaced by a concerned frown. “Not at all. Not us, that is.” He motioned to her chair. “Maybe you’d better sit down.”

  Letitia reached over and patted her arm. “You poor dear. You’d better tell her, Richard.”

  Elizabeth gaped at Letitia and felt her knees buckle, dropping her to the chair seat. Had something happened to her family?

  Richard held up the letter. “Mrs. Stephens has shared some surprising news. I’m afraid you may find this upsetting.” His somber tone didn’t match the exultant gleam in his eyes.

  “She sends news of several mutual acquaintances,” he went on. “Your James Reilly is one of them.” He looked her straight in the eye and cleared his throat. “It seems Mr. Reilly has just announced his engagement to Josephine Brown.”

  Elizabeth waited for stunning news, then realized she had just heard it. She smiled at the Bartletts, both watching her intently.

  “That’s wonderful news. Josephine has a mind sharp enough to match wits with James, but a gentle spirit. She’ll be a perfect match.”

  “There, now.” Letitia leaned close and put her hand on Elizabeth’s. “There’s no need for you to put on a brave front.”

  “Brave front? But—”

  “Certainly not,” Richard said. “A cad like that doesn’t deserve defending.”

  “I’m not defending him. I—”

  “It’s all right, Dear. We know you must be heartbroken.”

  “Heartbroken? Over James?” Elizabeth laughed aloud.

  “She’s becoming hysterical, Richard. What should we do?”

  Still sputtering with laughter, Elizabeth put up her hands to fend off their ministrations. “I’m neither heartbroken nor hysterical. The very idea! Whatever gave you such a notion?” Her mirth faded as she watched their expressions change from sympathy to suspicion.

  Richard’s eyes narrowed. “It’s very odd that you take this so lightly, since he’s the one you promised to marry.”

  “Marry James? Oh!” She remembered her lighthearted comment of the night before and chuckled. “That happened when we were children.” She stared with growing concern at their hostile expressions. “What’s the matter?”

  “What do you mean, when you were children?” Letitia’s breath came in ragged gasps.

  “It’s no great mystery,” Elizabeth said with a return of her former spirit. “We grew up next door to each other, as I’m sure you remember.”

  Richard’s face hardened. “But you told us you were engaged to him.”

  “You may have taken it that way,” Elizabeth countered. Her conscience prodded her. Of course they had. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d intended?

  She sat straighter in her chair and looked squarely at them. While she felt they had brought this on themselves, she knew they deserved an explanation.

  “It’s all because you were pressing so hard to attach me to someone out here. I thought perhaps I could put a stop to it if you thought I was unavailable. I only said that to—”

  “You lied!” Richard slammed his fist on the table, rattling the untouched breakfast dishes.

  “Lied!” Letitia echoed. She covered her face with her hands and sank into her chair, loud sobs racking her body. “What are we to do, Richard? Is it too late to talk to Timothy?”

  “I don’t understand.” Elizabeth raised her voice to be heard over Letitia’s wails. “I apologize for any misunderstanding, but I fail to see—”

  “That’s just it.” Richard’s harsh tone cut across her words. “You don’t see at all.”

  He loomed over her and planted his hands on either side of her against the chair back. Elizabeth shrank back against the unyielding wood. His hot breath puffed against her face. For a moment the world existed only of Letitia’s keening and Richard’s contorted features.

  “We’re ruined.” Elizabeth could see the veins on his forehead pulse as he ground out the words. “Do you understand? Ruined!”

  Twelve

  Letitia raised her head and looked daggers at Elizabeth. Her hair had escaped from its pins and stringy gray strands dangled on either side of her tear-streaked face. “You haven’t been honest with us from the moment you arrived, have you? You wanted a way out here and you used us as a reason to come. We’d planned such a wonderful future for you, but you wanted nothing to do with it. All you’ve been interested in is following your own desires.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “Do you deny that you misled us about your relationship with James Reilly?”

  “Misled, yes. Maliciously, no. I only meant to deflect your interest in finding me a beau. I never intended to cause you any harm.” Elizabeth stared from one of the distraught pair to the other.

  “But just how could my statement about James bring you to ruin? I don’t understand.”

  Richard opened his mouth, then clo
sed it again as he shoved himself away from her chair. Letitia swiped a clump of hair back away from her face and pushed herself to her feet.

  “I’ll tell you how.” Ignoring Richard’s cautioning gesture, she declared, “Our money is gone. All of it.”

  “Financial reversals,” Richard put in.

  “We had one chance to recoup our losses. Just one.”

  “An offer from an old and trusted friend.”

  “His son needs a wife,” Letitia said. “All we had to do was produce a suitable candidate—”

  “And let nature take its course, so to speak.”

  “All you had to do was let us introduce you to this young man. You’re attractive enough when you aren’t spouting off those idiotic ideas about women’s rights. You could have caught his attention if you’d only tried.”

  “Things move quickly out here,” Richard said. “You could have been married before Christmas.”

  “Married!” Elizabeth heard her voice come out in a squeak.

  “All you had to do was agree to meet him. We could have kept things going from there.” Letitia’s voice rose to a piercing level. “But, no. You couldn’t be bothered to show us the least amount of gratitude for bringing you out here, for giving you our protection and a roof over your head. Not the least bit of cooperation. And now it’s too late!” The shrill scream echoed through the house, leaving a bitter silence in its wake.

  “Too late? Too late for what?”

  “For giving us the help we needed, you foolish girl! After you led us to believe you were engaged to James Reilly, Richard went to tell Timothy the deal was off. And now, after you’ve shattered any hope we had of restoring our fortune, you tell us it was all a lie.”

  Elizabeth remembered Richard’s parting words the night before. She leaned forward in her chair. “Let me get this straight. My meeting this person was going to help you regain your wealth?” A horrible notion struck her. “Do you mean to sit there and tell me you were going to provide me as a wife to this man’s son. . .for a price?” She sprang to her feet, quivering with rage.

  “All you had to do was—”