by Sara Donati
The smile faded from Will’s face. “As important as all that?”
“More important,” said Elizabeth, and turned to greet her aunt Augusta Merriweather, Lady Crofton.
She swept into the sitting room on a breeze of her own making, her widow’s bombazine and crepe crackling with every step, the fringe on a black silk shawl fluttering behind. Aunt Merriweather was followed by her daughter Amanda, who colored prettily at this unexpected visit. Mrs. Schuyler and two of her married daughters made up the rest of the party. Other daughters and servants came and went in waves with trays of tea, sandwiches, and slabs of butter cake. Elizabeth was very glad of the tea and the chaos; the first was bracing, and the second saved the necessity of answering the most difficult questions immediately. And after two days’ journey, she was very willing to sit quietly on Mrs. Schuyler’s sofa before the hearth while the ladies conducted their examination of her children.
“Very pretty,” Aunt declared at length. “Good constitutions and strong characters, but how could it be otherwise? Elizabeth, mark my words. This little girl will lead you on a fine chase, as you led me—and I shall laugh to see it! I fear she will have your hair, so excessively curly. You needn’t scowl at me, Amanda, your cousin knows her hair is too curly, see how it insists on rioting about her face. Most intractable hair. Mathilde—you call her Lily? How curious. Lily has something of your mother in her, which can only be to her benefit. And what a fine strong little man, the image of his father. How alert he is! I fancy he will tell me to mind my manners soon. Look at this boy’s eyes, as green as China tea. Not from our side of the family, certainly. Whatever are you swaddling them in? Oh, I see. How clever.” The babies were passed one by one around the circle of ladies, admired soundly by each in turn, and then handed over to nursery maids who were dispatched with firm instructions for warm bathing.
Out on the lawn Bears had been drawn into a game of snow-snake; a boy appeared at the door to invite Hannah to join them. Elizabeth waved her on with some relief; at least the child wouldn’t be subjected to what was about to come.
“You go, child. Work out some of the kinks,” agreed Curiosity. “I myself am going to see where our menfolk have got to.” Elizabeth did not protest Curiosity’s abandoning her, although she would have preferred to have her nearby. She was a valuable ally in any duel of wills. But tomorrow Galileo would start home for Paradise and Curiosity would not see him for some weeks; it was no wonder that she had little patience for this gathering of ladies.
Suddenly the room was again in motion; there was talk of children’s tea, baggage, rooms to be gotten ready, and the afternoon departure of various parties. When Mrs. Schuyler’s daughters had left them, Aunt Merriweather folded her hands in her lap, and turned her sharpest gaze on her only niece. “I am glad to see that you have fared so well, Elizabeth. Motherhood agrees with you, although you are grown quite angular. If you would allow me to locate a suitable wet nurse—I see that idea does not please you. Well, I expected as much. Ah, look, here is Aphrodite. Come greet Cousin Elizabeth, my lovely. It has been too long since you last saw her.”
Her hands spread in welcome and the cat jumped into her lap. The diamonds on the long fingers and Aphrodite’s eyes blinked in exactly the same shade of old yellow.
“You see, she is none the worse for having traveled the seas,” Aunt Merriweather observed. “But then I see to her diet myself. Elizabeth, my special tea will put some color back in your complexion—”
“Mother,” Amanda began gently. “Perhaps Elizabeth has other matters to talk to us about. She cannot have come so far for tea.”
“I expect that your daughter is right, Lady Crofton,” said Mrs. Schuyler. She was as round and soft as Aunt Merriweather was slender and angular, in figure and in voice. “Not that we aren’t delighted to have you, Elizabeth. Most especially glad. The last time I had the pleasure was in Saratoga, on your wedding day—almost exactly a year ago …” And her voice trailed away, just shy of an actual question.
“It will be a year in two weeks’ time,” Elizabeth confirmed. In all the worry and rush, she had not lost sight of this fact.
Looking about the company, Mrs. Schuyler said, “Then you must pardon my curiosity and impatience, Elizabeth. But where is Nathaniel, and why are you here without him?”
“Indeed,” agreed Aunt Merriweather, stroking Aphrodite thoughtfully. “There must be some extraordinary reason for a lady to travel so far with infants in this abominable weather—a snowstorm on the first of April! I’m quite sure we do very well with less snow in England.” She shook herself slightly. “Please enlighten us, Elizabeth, as to your motives.”
Will was leaning against the mantel, his arms crossed. Elizabeth caught his eye, and his encouraging nod.
“Nathaniel is in Montréal, with his father and two friends. We are on our way there,” said Elizabeth. “It is a matter of great urgency, and we must leave at first light.”
There was an astounded silence that lasted until Aunt Merriweather put her cat off her lap with uncharacteristic abruptness. “This is most irregular. You cannot be in earnest.”
“But I am indeed in earnest,” Elizabeth agreed, meeting her aunt’s eye with studied calm.
Mrs. Schuyler leaned over and squeezed Elizabeth’s folded hands. “Let’s have the whole story,” she said in an encouraging tone. “And then you will tell us how we may be of help.”
The whole story could not be told. Elizabeth was not so undone by worry that she would reveal what must not be known: she carried with her a part of a lost treasure claimed by both the British and the American governments. Her aunt might be trusted, but to risk any hint of the Tory gold in a household where she had just been introduced to the wife of the secretary of the treasury—the Schuylers’ eldest daughter, Betsy—would be foolhardy. Certainly there was no need to mention Moncrieff, or the Earl of Carryck. She told them no more than they needed to know: that Nathaniel had gone to Montréal to see to his father’s and Otter’s release from gaol, and that he had been arrested in the attempt. She anticipated her aunt’s disapproval, but Elizabeth counted also on Lady Crofton’s strong instinct to protect the family name. Such situations were not unfamiliar to her, for she had had a husband with more money than good sense or judgment, and she had a son who was made in his father’s image.
At the news that Nathaniel, Hawkeye, and Robbie had been charged with spying, Mrs. Schuyler flushed deeply. “This is an outrage.”
“A most unfortunate business,” agreed Aunt Merriweather, one finger tapping on an elaborately carved armrest. “Clearly something must be done, but it is a matter best left to the men. William must go, of course.” She barely glanced his way, and took no note at all of Amanda’s stunned expression.
“I would be very thankful to Will if he should agree to come with us,” Elizabeth agreed, trying to catch her cousin’s eye. “If Amanda can spare him. I would think that his experience before the bench would be very useful. But I will not stay behind, Aunt. I cannot.”
“I see.” But it was clear that she saw not at all, and that she was far from being convinced.
“Pardon me, Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Schuyler. “But while you and Lady Crofton talk, I will find General Schuyler and inform him of the situation. He will make suitable arrangements. I believe Captain Mudge is docked here, and there is no better man to see you to Montréal.”
“Really,” breathed Aunt Merriweather before Elizabeth could respond with surprise or thanks. “Pardon me, Mrs. Schuyler, but your kindness is premature. The matter is not settled. You must agree that there is no need for my niece to make this journey herself, if my son-in-law is willing to go. Runs-from-Bears will accompany him; he could not want a better guide.”
“I am afraid it is not so simple,” said Catherine Schuyler firmly. “If there is any chance that Elizabeth’s presence will be of use in bringing about a happy conclusion to this situation, then she should indeed go to Montréal with the viscount.”
One thin
white eyebrow arched in disbelief. “But my dear Mrs. Schuyler, what possible use could Elizabeth be?”
Mrs. Schuyler’s placid expression and matronly demeanor were suddenly transformed, gone with a flash of her mild eyes. “Nathaniel is married to an Englishwoman with good connections, and they have two new infants. This cannot hurt his cause with Carleton—the governor is very family-minded. Beyond that, Lady Crofton, may I point out that there is more at stake than the freedom and lives of these good men. Perhaps you do not realize the potential repercussions.”
“Repercussions? Does she mean political repercussions? William, please explain.”
He cleared his throat. “Do you really want to concern yourself with the local politics, Lady Crofton?”
Aunt Merriweather tapped sharply with her cane. “I am not an idiot, young man. Politics, indeed. Simply explain.”
“Very well,” Will said, with a brief bow. “The lieutenant governor of Lower Canada—Somerville, you remember, is also an officer in His Majesty’s army—has arrested American citizens and charged them with spying in peacetime. It might be construed as an act of war.”
“Exactly,” said Mrs. Schuyler. “There are men in our government who would not hesitate to use it as an excuse to take up arms against Canada again—an event I do not like to contemplate. If the worst should happen, and if Somerville, idiotic man that he is, should actually hang one of them—I am sorry, Elizabeth, but we must consider—it would be a catastrophe of larger proportions than you imagine. General Schuyler must be informed at once. He may want to write to President Washington.”
Aunt Merriweather let out a small and awkward laugh. “Nathaniel Bonner a spy! He has not the slightest interest in politics!”
“Aunt,” said Elizabeth, overcome by a new kind of dread. “The point is that politics may have taken an interest in Nathaniel.”
Her first thought at the sound of howling infants was one of relief: better two hungry and angry babies than another half hour of gentle arguing with Aunt Merriweather. Elizabeth claimed the twins from a harried nursery maid and escaped upstairs to the room she was to share with Hannah. They settled down to nursing quite quickly, and Elizabeth was alone with her thoughts.
She was at least two weeks away from Montréal, two endless weeks of travel by water and land. The thaw was upon them; she could feel its touch in the air, in spite of the late snow. The world would turn to mud, a sea of mud between her and Nathaniel that she must navigate with three children. It might mean a longer route. The thought of leaving Nathaniel and Hawkeye in gaol for even one more day was unbearable. “What canna be changed maun be tholed,” Robbie would tell her if he were here.
Robbie had seen her through the hardest times in the summer, when Nathaniel’s life had hung in the balance and she feared she would lose her mind with worry. And now Robbie sat in the garrison gaol too.
A wave of exhaustion swept over Elizabeth, and her self-control burst like a seed pod. With both arms supporting the babies, she had not a free hand to wipe her face, and so she lay among the pillows and wept, furious with herself for tears that could serve no good purpose.
Some time later Curiosity came in to stand at the foot of the bed, her hands on her hips and a soft expression in her eyes. “My mama used to say that milk and tears flow from the same well. You showerin’ these children with both, looks like.”
She leaned over Lily, already asleep and dribbling milk, and dabbed at her with a handkerchief. Then she did the same for Daniel, and finally she took Elizabeth’s chin between her cool fingers and turned her face up to dry it. A frown twitched at the corner of the wide mouth, but her tone was as gentle as a lullaby as she wiped the wet cheeks.
“Don’ need to tell me, I heard all about it. They still at it down there. Spencer is trying to talk sense to her. The man don’t look like much, but he’s got a way about him.”
“He is perhaps the only person who can convince her,” Elizabeth agreed.
“What is that name that Chingachgook gave you?”
“Bone-in-Her-Back.” Elizabeth let out a wobbly laugh. “That seems very long ago.”
Curiosity turned her face from side to side and, satisfied with her handiwork, let her go with a small shake. “Look like backbone run in the family, all right.”
“Were you listening at the door?”
The damp handkerchief fluttered dismissively. “You know me better. That housekeeper, now, ain’t much she don’t know ’bout what goes on.”
“Ah, Mrs. Gerlach. She told stories about Nathaniel at our wedding party.”
“I don’t doubt it. Mighty fond of a tale, is Sally.” Curiosity eased the pillow that supported the sleeping babies off to the side and settled them comfortably.
Elizabeth said, “In case you are wondering, I intend to leave for Montréal in the morning, with or without Will Spencer. General Schuyler is arranging passage with a Captain Mudge.”
Curiosity nodded. “I expected as much. I don’t suppose Merriweather will throw herself in the road to stop us, but she won’t let you go easy, either.”
“Yes, well,” Elizabeth said wearily. “You forget that I grew up arguing with her.”
“She didn’t much hold with you leaving England, I reckon.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“And here you are anyway.”
“Yes,” whispered Elizabeth. “Here I am. She warned me that I would regret it, although at the time I did not realize she meant to come and see to it personally.” She managed a small smile. “I see your line of reasoning, Curiosity. You needn’t worry, her disapproval won’t stop me.”
“Didn’t think it would. Don’t see how an army could stop you now.” Curiosity wrung her handkerchief out in fresh water from the washstand, and then put it in Elizabeth’s hand.
The cool was welcome on her flushed cheeks. “You could turn back to Paradise with Galileo, if you wanted to. It isn’t too late.”
“No, child. I got my mind set on seeing this through, and that’s what I’ll do.”
“Good,” said Elizabeth. “It is very selfish of me, but I find that I cannot do without you.”
There was a soft scratching at the door.
“Looks like there’s folk here feel the same way about you.” Curiosity’s heels tapped briskly on her way to the door.
“That will be an emissary of my aunt’s,” said Elizabeth, putting her clothing to rights. “Sent to speak common sense to me.”
Amanda’s apologies for her mother began before she was in the room. On her way to Elizabeth she paused to embrace Curiosity, which took the older woman by surprise but left a pleased expression on her face.
Elizabeth held out her hands toward her cousin. “I am very glad to see you, Amanda, even if you come bearing disagreeable messages.”
Amanda was one of the few people she truly missed since leaving England; she had been closer to Elizabeth than to her sisters. The youngest of Aunt Merriweather’s three girls and the prettiest, she also suffered under what her mother called a nervous disposition—a vivid imagination and a demonstratively affectionate manner, both of which put her at a disadvantage in a household of strong-minded, pragmatic women. Now she came to stand by Elizabeth’s bedside, but her gaze was fixed on the sleeping infants.
“Come,” said Elizabeth, and patted the bed. When Amanda had settled, she put Lily in her arms and together they watched the baby stretch, her mouth working even in her sleep.
Amanda’s shoulders bent into a protective bow around the baby. “You know how very fortunate you are.”
“Oh, yes. I am very aware of my good fortune.”
A soft flush crept up Amanda’s neck. When she looked at Elizabeth, there was a nerve fluttering gently in her cheek. “Will is all I have. You will send him back to me as soon as possible?”
“Yes,” whispered Elizabeth. “Of course I will.”
While Elizabeth visited with Amanda and Aunt Merriweather continued negotiations with Will, Mrs. Schuyler performed a mira
cle and reduced the population of her sitting room drastically, seeing her visiting children, their families and servants off to their own homes. Even the Hamiltons departed for the first leg of their journey down the Hudson to their estate in New-York City. Elizabeth watched them take leave from her window, vaguely curious about Betsy’s husband, the famous Alexander Hamilton. She mentioned his Federalist Papers to Curiosity and found that she had read them, as she read everything that came into the judge’s possession, and was little impressed by them or their author.
“Look at him,” she snorted. “Fought in the Revolution all right, but there’s a man in love with the old ways. Making up to your aunt as if she was wearin’ a crown. Don’t he put you in mind of one of them yappy ginger-haired dogs, always worrying at a woman’s heels?” At Elizabeth’s shocked expression, Curiosity sniffed. “The man famous for more than his writing. Cain’t resist a lady with a title, and always lookin’ to get his belly scratched. And I’ll wager it’s freckled, too.”
Elizabeth might have choked, if not for Curiosity’s vigorous thumping between her shoulder blades. “Look at him hard, now, and tell me you don’t feel sorry for Betsy.”
“I shan’t argue with your superior knowledge of his reputation,” Elizabeth said when she had regained her composure. She picked up her brushes in a last attempt to tame her hair. “But right now General Schuyler is downstairs waiting to discuss details of the journey with us, and I think it is not very wise to be criticizing his son-in-law behind his back.”
Curiosity laughed loudly at that. “Elizabeth, you wait and see the look on Nathaniel’s face the day that Lily bring home a husband. Ain’t nobody more critical of a woman’s choice than her daddy.”
She picked up the gray watered silk, the only formal gown Elizabeth had packed, and smoothed the lace. “You go on and have your set-down with the general. He won’t need me there.”
Elizabeth looked up in surprise from the unfastening of her traveling gown. “But I need you. I depend upon your judgment. Runs-from-Bears will be there, too.”