by Lorin Grace
The gavel rapped three more times.
“Adjourned.”
Mr. Butler escaped before anyone could stop him.
Gideon went to Mina’s side and gathered her in a hug.
“Oh, my Preacher Boy, I knew you would come to your senses. I can hardly wait to call you nephew.” She patted his cheek and turned to the doctor. “Do you think we can return home before the sun sets?”
The doctor offered his arm. “You forget I am used to driving in the dark. Mr. Frost, will you accompany us?”
“Let me gather my things, and I will catch up with you.”
Mina stopped him. “Oh, Ebenezer did come for her. Oddly, she left in her gray work dress. I wonder—” She looked out the window for a moment before turning back to Gideon. “Since she is no longer living in my house, you are welcome to either of the upper bedrooms, if you would like to move out of the Porters’ attic.”
Gideon smiled. The thought of moving out of the Porters’ brought immediate relief. He did not relish sitting across the table from the man who barely defended him, and then only at his wife’s urging. “I’ll be there.”
Gideon turned to the Porters. “Thank you for coming.”
Mrs. Porter smiled, and her husband almost didn’t frown when he spoke. “Clive—I mean Reverend Ingram—has offered one of his students to help me this summer. We shall need your room.”
Gideon nodded. “Mrs. Richards asked I move in with her since her niece is no longer there. When Elizabeth does return, I hope it is as my wife.”
Mrs. Porter beamed as brightly as she had the day her son was born.
A hand clasped Gideon’s shoulder, and he turned to find Reverend Ingram. “I am sorry about this. I told them it was nonsense, but—we will miss you. You are one of the finer orators this seminary has turned out. However, you look much happier than on New Year’s Day. Go in peace, and someday I would like to meet this Miss Garrett.”
“By then she will be Mrs. Frost.”
“So she shall.”
Mother rushed out of the house as soon as her father reined the horse to a stop. If the idea was to bring her home quietly, her mother had not been apprised of it. Her mother’s voice carried like the town criers. “Oh, my Elizabeth! Just look at you. That dress! Why, it is hideous!”
Elizabeth fell into her mother’s arms, hoping to silence her more than anything. Afraid if she enjoyed the hug too long it would lead to more tears, she stepped back. She’d avoided conversation with her father for that very reason. Oddly, he’d become quite talkative this morning, extolling the whitewashed virtues of Abner Sidewall. To accomplish such a feat, her father had to reach very far back in time. Considering Abner was more than fifteen years her senior, discussing anything Abner had done before she’d learned to read seemed like ancient history. It was reassuring to know he’d distinguished himself near the end of the war when he was old enough to join up.
Her father had not attempted to do the same with Mr. Sidewall’s sons, the oldest of whom was twelve—merely seven years her junior! There must be some law about the bride being closer in age to a man’s children than himself. How would she ever tell a child taller than she anything he might listen to?
Father ushered them into the house and out of sight of any nosy neighbors. Mother insisted she take a bath and rest. Her father simply glowered.
It would be a long two weeks.
Thirty
Gideon stood at the door to Elizabeth’s room, his trunk on his shoulder, as the last rays of sun poured through the window. Could he sleep in her room? As it was, he’d spent too much time the past two days thinking of her, and she’d invaded his dreams for months. He would go to her as soon as the intentions were certified.
He looked at the door on the other side of the small hallway. The bed there was wider than the box bed at Porters’ but shorter, and the room was littered with trunks and boxes he’d moved for Mina a few months ago. He could move tomorrow. After he got his Lizzy, there would be time to sort things out.
He stepped into the room and put his trunk down, but the action didn’t make the chamber anymore his. A dress lay across the bed. Lizzy must have meant to change before she’d left. If she had, he wouldn’t have recognized her. Oh, that hideous gray dress. He closed his eyes and visualized her in it, smiling up at him. The intentions couldn’t be certified fast enough.
He picked up the dress. The neckline was the higher sort Elizabeth had worn the past few months, but the rest of the dress seemed to have less fabric. It also wasn’t multiple pieces like most women’s clothing. Despite those differences, he thought it was … Never mind. He would not let his thoughts dwell further on the dress or its owner.
Was it really necessary for a woman to change her dress, petticoat, and stockings? He folded the last item quickly. They were too smooth, and the silk felt like something he need not think upon. The only place to set the gown was upon the small table.
The setting sun cast the room in an orange glow. Mindful of the lower ceiling, he walked to the window to witness the workings of God’s hand. A dull light reflected off something in the field.
He watched the sun sink lower until the shadows swallowed Lizzy’s rock.
The clerk shrugged apologetically. “Magistrate Adams has an opening in an hour. I only know he received a complaint forbidding the banns of matrimony.”
Gideon stepped back. There was only one person he could think of. He suppressed a growl. “I’ll take the appointment.”
“Be here at eleven o’clock, and don’t keep Magistrate Adams waiting.”
Without a word, Gideon left the building, noting that the time on the clock tower matched the time on his pocket watch. He walked down the street, looking at the wares for sale in the various shops when one display caught his eye. The bell over the door rang as he stepped in.
The proprietor tried to show Gideon several more items, but Gideon was only interested in the carved gold band that had caught his eye.
After a solid round of haggling, Gideon left the door several dollars poorer but with the ring in his breast pocket.
As the last bell tolled the hour, Gideon entered the magistrate’s office. “Mr. Frost, I wondered if I might see you today. Do have a seat. Is Miss Garrett with you?”
“No, she is currently north with her family.”
“Is she related to Ebenezer Garrett?”
“Yes, he is her father.”
“Haven’t seen him for years. I assume he is still hoping for a spot on the governor’s staff or a bigger judgeship?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir. We have never discussed the matter.”
“Of course not. No doubt you are wondering why your banns of matrimony have been challenged.”
“Yes, sir. I intended to get the certificate and leave for the Garrett’s home this day.”
“It has been alleged you published your intentions as a ruse to thwart the plans of the young lady’s father.”
“May I ask who my accuser is?”
“A Mr. Theo—”
“Butler.”
“You are acquainted?”
“Unfortunately. The man has become a bit of a thorn in my side.”
“Then this claim is false?”
“Mostly.”
“Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
Gideon gave a condensed version of his church trial and the circumstances surrounding it.
“You say Reverend Porter was there?”
Gideon nodded. “Yes, as well as Doctor Whiting and Mrs. Richards.”
“And you intend to engage yourself to Miss Garrett, and wed.”
“As soon as possible.” Gideon pulled the ring from his pocket. “I purchased this while waiting for my appointment.”
The magistrate
adjusted the glasses on the end of his nose. “An elegant ring.” He moved his attention to an agenda. “Judge Smith and I can hold a hearing Wednesday next week to settle this matter.”
“Do you have anything sooner?”
Magistrate Adams studied Gideon, then his calendar. “Friday morning the eighteenth at eight. Smith won’t like it. If you ride straight through, you should be able to get there before nightfall, and hopefully before Ebenezer can get his daughter married off to someone else.”
Gideon stood and shook the judge’s hand.
“I’ll have the clerk subpoena the reverend and Doctor Whiting. Knowing the doctor’s unpredictable schedule, I will ask him to come in and give his testimony in front of one of us and a clerk, at his convenience.”
Gideon left the courthouse less frustrated than he had been two hours ago. He prayed Friday would not be too late.
Mindwell watched the sunset. Another day and still things had not been set to rights. The wedding date set by her nephew drew ever closer. She was ready to head north and protest it herself. If things did not go well Friday morning, she would. Of course, Gideon would have to drive her. She was much too tired to do that herself.
She’d been busy the last few days setting her own plans in motion. She didn’t have time to wait for Gideon to start earning a living making shoes.
If only her Henry were here. He’d set things to rights.
Thirty-One
Elizabeth clipped the last thread on the cloth. She’d used most of the unbleached linen Aunt Mina had given her to make a tablecloth and twelve napkins. She hoped Gideon had helped Aunt Mina finish bleaching the linen she’d started. Would Gideon see to such woman’s work to save her aunt the trouble?
He was Gideon. Of course he would.
She turned her focus back to the cloth. She’d promised herself she would not think of him. But, for the third time today, she’d broken her promise. If she had more to do, she wouldn’t think of him as much. But Cook had shooed her out of the kitchen after Mother caught her kneading bread. The maid had gotten upset when she’d realized Elizabeth had dusted the parlor. Again. She hadn’t dared try to work in the garden.
The tablecloth needed to be ironed. She hoped she would be allowed to do that. The only reason no one fussed at her for working on it was because Mother assumed it was for her future home.
She’d already managed to visit several of her old schoolmates and rendered apologies to them. Most of them had gaped at her, disbelieving, as they accepted the embroidered handkerchiefs she offered. Most of the offenses had been schoolgirl tricks—frogs in lunch pails, ink spilled on pinafores, and the like. A few had been slanderous—rumors of nonexistent warts or spreading gossip indicating a girl fancied by a certain boy was less than desirable.
The major offenses were harder. Emma Whittier had moved away after marrying. Considering the slanderous story she’d spread questioning Emma’s virtue, she wasn’t surprised. Elizabeth would have left town too. Her attempt to talk to Emma’s parents had been met with a door slammed in her face. Short of standing up and announcing what she had done at the beginning of Church, she had no idea how to rectify the situation. She’d contemplated approaching Reverend Woods with such a plan but put it off, hoping another idea would come to mind.
She’d created a beautiful dress for Betsy Smythe and hoped she would wear it someday, even if she checked every seam twice. Elizabeth had double stitched most of the seams so there would be no possibility of this dress falling apart.
Cook was busy this time of the day, so it didn’t take much to convince her ironing did not violate Mother’s ban on housework. It took longer to iron the cloth napkins than she thought it would. The apple blossoms she’d embroidered required her to work slowly around the edges. Once finished, she wrapped the folded linens in a length of muslin and headed to the stable, hoping she could borrow the small buggy. If not, she would walk. It wasn’t quite two miles.
Elizabeth reined the horse to a stop. She had not been out to the Marden—now the S. Wilson—farm since she was thirteen or so. Someone had built an addition on the old cabin. Movement in the garden caught her eye. Lucy’s younger sister weeded among the cabbages.
Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage and reached for the muslin-wrapped bundle. The little girl came running from the garden to greet her.
“Is Lucy home?”
The girl did not respond. Instead she turned and ran around the side of the house. Elizabeth stood on the first step of the porch, uncertain whether to follow or knock on the door. She moved to the second step as Lucy came around the house.
Lucy stopped abruptly and placed her hand over her middle, the movement confirming the rumors. Samuel would soon be a father.
Elizabeth smiled what she hoped was a genuine smile. “Do you have a moment?”
Lucy glanced at the barn and gave a little shrug before coming around to the stairs. “Come in.”
They crossed the doorway into the kitchen. “Pardon the sawdust. Samuel has been converting my old bedroom into a parlor. As soon as he is done, he will put a door in so people won’t need to come through my kitchen.”
Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You may not believe it, but I have sat in much worse than a speck of sawdust in the past few months. Isn’t the smell of those fresh-cut boards worth a bit of dust?” Elizabeth inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “I do love that smell.” She looked at Lucy. “Don’t you?”
“Usually, yes, but the dust makes me sneeze and—” Achoo. She gestured to the rocking chairs by the window. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you. But do feel free to have something if you would like. I have come to offer a long-overdue apology, not to have you fuss over me.” Elizabeth sat in the rocker near the door. Lucy sank into the other.
“I have wronged you so many times I know nothing I can say or do will ever make up for the frogs in your lunch pail, the stories I told … oh, and the ants. But by far the worst thing I ever did was trying to … um …” Her carefully planned words would not come to mind. “When I tried to take Samuel.” Elizabeth felt her face heat as she thrust the bundle into Lucy’s lap.
“I know this won’t fix the mess I caused, but I want to give this to you to show you I am glad for your marriage. I made it myself. Well, not this fabric. I did weave linen and was in the process of bleaching it when my father came, but my aunt wove this.” Elizabeth knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “I know everyone is saying I am only apologizing because my father is making me marry Mr. Sidewall, but I knew I needed to apologize to you weeks ago. When my aunt gave me the linen I wove, I thought giving it to you might show how sorry I was. At least to God. And you may appreciate the fact that I fell in the manure pile as I bleached the linen. Right in front of a man who is very kind and very handsome. Probably part of what I deserved after deliberately embarrassing girls in front of their beaus. Or for the ink I spilled.” Elizabeth waved her hand uselessly, hoping all the words would just stop coming. “I am ever so sorry. It wouldn’t be proper for me to say anything to Samuel, but if you would tell him—”
“Tell me what?”
Elizabeth spun in the chair. All the words tumbling out of her suddenly drying up like mud on a hot day, leaving her mouth feeling stiff and unable to work.
“Look, dear.” Lucy held up the tablecloth. “Isn’t it the most beautiful embroidery? Apple blossoms and lavender.”
Samuel crossed the room to his wife’s side and put his hand on her shoulder. To Elizabeth, the move seemed protective. Lucy reached up, patted his hand, and gave him a smile. “Dear, Elizabeth came here to provide us with this beautiful gift to commemorate our wedding. She also has apologized for many things and was asking me to extend an apology to you as well.”
Samuel nar
rowed his eyes as he looked at Elizabeth. “Is this true?”
Elizabeth tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but the weight of every misdeed she’d ever perpetrated against Lucy and Samuel kept it there. She nodded.
Samuel’s brows rose, and he continued to glare.
Elizabeth blinked back tears and tried to speak again. Her voice came out in a harsh squeak. “I am very sorry. I should have never—” Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to her lap, where she twisted her dress in her hands. It took great effort to still her hands and smooth the dress. There would be no helping it—her tears would fall if she stayed any longer. She shot out of her seat and rushed to the door. Elizabeth paused with her hand on the knob. “Someday I hope you will forgive me. Even if I don’t deserve it.”
Slipping out of the door, Elizabeth ran to the buggy, her now-falling tears making it difficult to see. How inadequate her gift was. She’d thought all the hours she’d spent embroidering it would have given her absolution. So wrong. So very wrong.
“Miss Garrett—Elizabeth—stop!”
At the sound of Samuel’s deep voice, Elizabeth halted with one foot high on the buggy’s rung, the other on the ground.
“My wife has something more to say and asks that you stay for supper.”
Elizabeth stepped back down and turned around. “I cannot stay as long as that—my father has already made arrangements.”