Reforming Elizabeth

by Lorin Grace

  “Are you hungry, dear? I’ll have Cook find you something.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Garrett.”

  His wife turned to the maid and requested a tray be brought to the parlor, where she herded her husband. Ebenezer glanced at the clock and hoped his clerk would hurry.

  “We have a letter from our son. You will never guess.”

  “He is to marry this fall and stay in Philadelphia.”

  “How did you know?”

  “He asked my advice last week when he was at his uncle’s on business. I asked him to notify you as soon as the girl agreed.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca took a sip of tea, clearly upset.

  “What do you hear of Elizabeth?” He changed the subject.

  “She wrote a letter to both of us. She has been bleaching linen and gave a detailed account. I do not see how using cow dung, which is brown, can make a fabric white. There was also a letter to you from Aunt Richards, and another looks to be in Elizabeth’s hand, but as neither was addressed to me, I did not open them and left them on your desk.”

  Ebenezer took a bite of bread and nodded his thanks.

  “I do long to see my girl. She has been away from us for more than four months now and sounds much improved. She does not complain about working like a slave for your aunt.” Rebecca’s voice took on the pleading lilt he detested.

  “She is not working like a slave. She is only doing the work women without maids and cooks do.”

  “Which is working like a slave.” Rebecca sipped her tea.

  A knock at the door saved Ebenezer from turning the conversation into an argument. Only eleven minutes. He should reward his clerk. Ebenezer ushered the clerk into the study and shut the door as his wife slipped out.

  “So there are things that couldn’t wait for the morrow?” Ebenezer indicated a chair for the clerk and took his own behind the desk. The clerk placed a packet of papers on the desk.

  “Just a few things needing a signature.” He pointed to a space.

  Ebenezer uncorked his inkwell and read the papers. “Oh, so MaryBeth finally got herself a man.”

  “Yes, sir. They are to be wed in the morning and have been waiting for your signature certifying the intentions.”

  He signed the paper with a flourish.

  “What is this? Abner Sidewall arrested again? And his sons?”

  “The constable let the boys go home last night, but Abner is still in the lockup.”

  “The boys were stealing eggs?”

  “They were hungry, sir. It seems Abner spent all the money on drink again. The good reverend came and got the boys. They will clean Mr. Wheeler’s coop, and he won’t press any charges this time. But everyone is quite upset about what is happening to the boys. If Abner has to stay in the lockup too long, people are saying we should send the boys off to relatives or some such.”

  The magistrate scanned the next paper. “Abner’s done it this time. We will have to set up a trial. Tell me—did the other man live?”

  Balanced on the edge of a straight-backed chair, the clerk looked more nervous than usual. “He seems much recovered, but Abner did break his arm.”

  “Let it be a lesson to you. Never drink in excess. Set the trial for Monday. That will give us the rest of the week to get a jury and for Abner to get someone to represent him. Shame. He wasn’t like this when his wife, Millie, lived.”

  “Too bad you can’t sentence him to be married, then. It would solve all our problems.” The clerk gave a nervous laugh at his own suggestion.

  Ebenezer sat back in his chair. It was a novel solution. Too bad he didn’t have any females who’d committed a crime. He flipped through the other papers, adding his signature when needed.

  “Is that all you have for me?”

  “No, sir, your desk is full of things, but these were the most pressing.”

  “Very well, show yourself out. I will see you tomorrow.”

  The clerk hurried from the room, shutting the door behind him.

  A stack of mail stood neatly on the corner of the desk. It would be better to read the missives than to return to his wife. He was soon lost in the pages of a news sheet sent from the capital.

  An hour later, Ebenezer opened a thin letter directed to Magistrate Garrett from some reverend in East Stoughton. He read it twice before searching the desk for the letters from Elizabeth and Mindwell. “React in haste? Who is this man to caution me in dealings with my daughter? Interfering reverend,” he muttered as he moved papers aside.

  On the opposite side of the desk, he found three letters—one from Mindwell and two from Elizabeth. The seal on the thicker missive remained unbroken.

  He ripped open Mindwell’s first, hoping his aunt would shed some light on why Reverend Frost might be writing. Mindwell’s letter contained no dire news unless he considered learning to bleach linen newsworthy. She wrote again of Elizabeth’s improvement. The same sort of thing she’d written about for the past several weeks.

  Ebenezer broke the seal on the thick missive written in his daughter’s hand and found six well-filled pages. Since most of her letters covered less than one, he turned up the lamp. Several of the pages bore spots, as if written in the rain. In a couple of places, the writing was illegible. The letter was indeed dated the first Sunday of March. Two months past. What had the preacher done to waylay it?

  March 4

  Dear Father,

  I fear you shall be terribly disappointed in me when you read this. I thought I had been reformed, but maybe, as you have said, I am beyond all redemption. If I had listened to you and gotten rid of my crimson gown, none of this would have ever happened. Instead, I hid it in the secret compartment of great-grandfather’s old trunk and had a jolly laugh. You gave me the trunk he used to smuggle his papers and clothing across the sea. That is not all I took with me to our aunt’s without your knowledge, but the only thing that signifies at the moment. The other dress, which would have been my Christmas gift, I have never worn, and the forty dollars I hid in a little purse is mostly still there. Whether I have learned to be frugal, or there is no place to spend the money is probably the same. I have purchased some of the Baker’s chocolate for our aunt as she loves it so and drinks it every morning, and a bowl to replace one I broke. I hope at least in this small thing you are not displeased.

  There is a man here I find quite handsome but who ignores me because I do not have the qualities he desires. I was quite put out when this mouse of a girl started to catch his eye. So I determined I must get him for no other reason than I could. It was very foolish of me. After all, that is the part of me I have been trying to reform. I have no excuse because jealousy is not a good reason.

  I determined my crimson gown would be the way to do it. It all seemed like a good idea—right up until this morning when I put on the dress. As I looked in the mirror, I was rather shocked to see how much of my breasts were exposed. Forgive me for speaking plainly, but I feel it is best I express myself clearly and leave no doubt as to every matter. I did, of course, wear a fichu, but the one I chose was of the lightest fabric and translucent. I should have chosen another, but I’d embroidered the flowers to match the dress.

  The thought did occur to me to change entirely and leave off with my plans. It will not come as a surprise to you that this was a new idea entirely for me. I don’t recall ever seriously questioning my actions before. However, the novelty of such a thought was not enough to change my course.

  Aunt Mindwell did not say anything when I came down. She only gave me a somber look. Again, I nearly bounded up the stairs to change. But then through the front window I spied the girl I wished to best, walking with her parents to church. She had on a new hat. So I left for the church with our aunt. By the time we arrived in the churchyard, I felt very uncomfortable. More than one person stopped to stare, or rather
, stare at me. But these were not the looks of admiration I usually receive. Most of the women looked as if they smelled something decomposing in the slop pail. Most of the men quickly looked away. The man I hoped to impress was clearly embarrassed for me. I was mortified.

  I heard little of the sermon as I wished that I was small enough to fit through the chinks in the floor, or at least been wise enough to bring a shawl so I might cover myself better. There was another man who is quite wealthy, whose eye I did catch. Every time I looked up, I was aware of his perusal. But there was something almost sinister in his eye that made me even more conscious of how out of place my dress was. I became most desperate to cover myself more. A child in front of me cast off a blanket, and I would that I had used it to cover myself.

  In the midst of this, I attempted to adjust my fichu to better cover me. To my horror, it came untucked completely. I hoped no one noticed as the sermon was still being given, but both the man I wanted to chase and the wealthy one saw. The first looked away, and I felt the shame of his thoughts. The second man looked at me just as our house cat looks at a mouse it has cornered.

  As soon as we rose to sing the final hymn, I made my escape. There is a small copse of trees to the north of the church. I hid there, waiting for Aunt Mindwell. But as the people came out, I dared not go to her as I could hear them talking about me. I was evidently better hidden than I thought. I determined to remain until everyone left and then proceed home.

  I was thus hidden, and listening for the last of the gossip to end, when my hiding place was discovered by the second man. Believing him to be a gentleman, I asked him to leave. He did not. Instead, he advanced on me. He proceeded to take liberties no man has formerly dared take. He forced a kiss on me that was as unwelcome as it was cruel. I slapped him for it. Instead of apologizing, he slapped me back and then proceeded to force me into another kiss viler than the first. His hands pulled at my gown.

  I tried to hit him and scratch him, anything to make him stop. Somehow I managed to scratch his face hard enough that he pulled back for a moment before knocking me to the ground. I expected the worst then and knew I was being punished for all I’ve ever done. I dared not pray for help.

  But help came in the form of the man I’d tried to impress. I was spared being violated. Once my attacker left, the other man offered me his coat. I was in desperate need of it as my bodice and sleeve were now torn so badly I could not hold them in place to cover myself. My fichu was gone, my hat trampled.

  Then he walked me home or, rather, to our aunt’s.

  That is when the real punishment began. This man was so kind and solicitous. He didn’t make me feel like a strumpet, although we both know I was. I saw him for the first time as not just a handsome face but as he is, which is something far better than I will ever be or deserve to ever have, even as an esteemed acquaintance.

  Although I am not ruined in the full sense. I feel very much like I am. I cannot say how miserable I feel and ashamed of my actions. If this was the worst of it, I think I could endure. I cannot show my face in public for a few days as it is quite bruised and I have a cut which I am sure will scar. I almost hope it does so I will always remember what a terrible person I have become.

  No, the worst of it is our aunt.

  Knowing I was injured and hiding in my room, she came up to tend to my wounds. Something I could have done myself. She went back down the stairs before I did. And she fell.

  If only I had been helping her as I should have. It is all my fault. Even now she lies in her room, pale and unmoving.

  Our aunt cannot give you an account of my reckless and wanton actions of this day as she has not managed more than a few words. Doctor Whiting says she has hurt her ankle and her head. He is more worried about her head and fears at her age that the damage could be grave.

  I have tried to give you the most accurate account of this day that I can. I have no doubt your disappointment in me is beyond all I can imagine. Please do not blame Aunt Mindwell for anything that happened today. She bears no responsibility.

  I am willing to take any penance you assign me and have little doubt you will soon retrieve me from East Stoughton to a situation you deem more fitting for a wanton daughter. I ask only that you allow me to stay at our aunt’s bedside until she is able to be about the house again. She has a very responsible man who takes care of her few animals and needs, but while she is abed, there are some needs a man should simply not attend to. After that time, I will willingly submit to whatever orders you give me.

  You are right. I am not even fit to be the fishmonger’s wife.

  Your daughter,

  Elizabeth

  PS. I have mastered the spinning wheel and am fit for that work …

  Ebenezer put down the letter. Why hadn’t he been told of this by Aunt Mindwell?

  A letter had arrived some weeks previous also from Reverend Frost, apprising him of Mindwell’s fall and of the excellent care his daughter was giving her. There had been one line indicating that Elizabeth had been mildly injured in a separate incident but was recovering. Ebenezer had thought nothing of it at the time. Was the event he’d spoken of with the man who’d tried to take liberties with his daughter? His anger fluctuated between his daughter’s attacker and her behavior. He wondered if the man had received any punishment for his actions beyond the beating her rescuer had given him. He doubted it. Too difficult to prosecute such a man, even if there were witnesses in a case like that. If the girl lost her virtue and been beaten, there was more of a case. A few cases, like the girls who had been raped by the deserters during the war, garnered general support from the neighbors, but most were blamed on the girl, and no action was taken. Of course, a particularly violent attack was easier to prosecute. If he could put the man in his jail—

  “What had Elizabeth been thinking?” Ebenezer muttered as he paced the room. “I tried to tell her those dresses, especially that blasted red one, revealed too much of her figure and that men who did not have strong characters might think she offered herself not only to be seen but admired in more personal ways. Did my girl listen? No. But she is now.”

  None of this explained why his aunt had not mentioned the incident in her letters as she’d recovered. She must have concealed it from him knowing he would whisk Elizabeth away from her care. He’d never thought of his aunt as deceitful.

  By all accounts, his aunt was up and about and had no more need of his daughter. He should go retrieve her, but he didn’t want her at home with the lieutenant governor coming next week. He would wait until after that. Perhaps by then a solution would present itself.

  Twenty-Five

  Elizabeth sorted through the mail. There was a letter from Mr. Whittaker and one from someone she didn’t recognize for her aunt. A letter for Gideon also waited in their box. Odd—his letters usually were sent to Reverend Porter’s box. Nothing for her, but it was too soon. Yesterday would have been the earliest her letter could have reached Father. That meant he could come tomorrow, or even late tonight. She bit her lip and stepped out the door and into a human wall.

  “Sorry.” She looked up to see Gideon. Before he spoke, she held out his letter. When he took it, she skirted around him and rushed down the steps.

  Gideon touched her elbow, and Elizabeth paused.

  “Allow me to escort you back to Mina’s.”

  Elizabeth nodded, afraid to speak lest her fears tumble out. She’d already bothered him too much.

  “Just a moment while I untie Jordan.”

  Elizabeth stood on the walkway and waited. Jordan tossed his head, being led was not one of his favorite ways to travel. Gideon held out his arm for her, and she rested her hand on it.

  “A letter from your father?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You are worried.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded and bit her lip.

/>   “You are sure he will come?”

  “I expect he must.” Elizabeth swallowed the sigh that wanted to follow her answer.

  Jordan bumped Gideon with his nose, but Gideon did not speed up. “What will you do?”

  Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “What can I do but return and marry whomever he has chosen for me.”

  “Are you sure that’s what he will do?” Gideon pulled a bit of carrot from his pocket for Jordan.

  “He rarely makes threats he doesn’t follow through on, and sending me away as someone’s wife was the only other plan he’s mentioned.”

  “But he can’t legally force you to marry.”

  “Can he not? He is a magistrate. The intentions do not require my signature to be posted. He will use Mother to ensure I don’t shame them by backing out. If she invites enough people, I won’t dare hurt her.”

  “You would marry a man to not hurt her?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. Didn’t he see she had little choice? A fit of temper or refusal would only lead to something worse.

  Gideon stopped. Jordan sidestepped in protest, and Elizabeth stepped back, nervously eyeing the large horse.

  Gideon didn’t speak again until she looked at him. “You should not marry for those reasons.”

  I know that, but I have little choice! The intensity of his eyes almost undid her. She would not cry. She released his arm and continued down the road.

  Gideon caught up with her. “Elizabeth, you can’t allow this to happen.”

  For more than two months she’d considered every alternative. Running away without a way to support herself would only put her in a situation as dire as her father would find for her. Refusing to leave Mina’s would only hurt her aunt’s reputation. Gideon Foster didn’t know everything. Anger replaced fear. “How? How am I to do so without making things worse or hurting more people? I have had four months to find an alternative, and every plan I dream of falls apart when morning comes.”