by Sara Donati
“I know I should be glad of the challenge,” she said. “But she is such a trying child.”
Hannah hummed her agreement. “If we could at least have Liam, too,” she said. “Jemima never acts up so much when Liam’s got an eye on her.”
“I guess Jemima’ll settle down to schoolwork soon enough,” Nathaniel offered; his attempt at an apology. He added: “At any rate, Boots, it’s a good thing that Jed and Nancy ain’t set on pulling their boys out of the classroom. Jed is a forgiving man, I have to say.”
Elizabeth threw Nathaniel a pleading look over Hannah’s head, and he nodded. For the moment Hannah knew nothing of Jed’s unplanned and undeserved stay in Anna’s pantry, or the role Elizabeth had had in Hawkeye’s return home; nor did Elizabeth want her to know for as long as possible. The whole episode seemed unreal, still. She expected Hawkeye to come through the door any moment, and she thought that Nathaniel did, too.
“Ian looks mighty strange in those spectacles,” Hannah noted.
“If you insist on reading by starlight you’ll need spectacles yourself, and quite quickly,” Elizabeth pointed out, ladling more stew into Hannah’s bowl. She moved too quickly and gravy splashed on the table. With a small cry of dismay, Elizabeth began to mop at it with her apron.
Nathaniel appeared at her side, pulling her gently away. “Boots!” he said softly, his mouth turned down in worry. “It’s just a spill. What is the matter with you? You’re so jumpy.”
“Maybe it’s Great-grandfather,” Hannah said.
“No.” Elizabeth pulled away from him. “Yes. Of course it’s Chingachgook, in part—but, well.” She drew in a big breath, and let it out. “I thought it would be better to wait, with all that has happened in the last few days. It’s so silly of me. Here.” She drew aunt Merriweather’s letter from her pocket, and held it out toward Nathaniel.
He raised a brow, and slowly reached out to take it. Then he turned it over in his hands. “We just forgot about this, didn’t we? In the hurry to get back here. From your aunt.”
“She’s on her way here for a visit,” Elizabeth said in a rush.
“Well, that’s not so bad,” Hannah said with a bigger smile. “Is it space you’re worried about? She can sleep with me in the loft.”
The thought of aunt Merriweather climbing the ladder to the sleeping loft might have been amusing, in other circumstances. But Elizabeth could barely listen to the child’s plans for the visitors; she watched Nathaniel scan the letter line by line. He looked up in surprise. “Your cousin and her husband, too?”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “And servants.”
“Well, never mind, Boots,” he said, pulling her close to wipe a smear of gravy from her cheek. “I expect we can deal with them well enough. You and me have dealt with worse in our time, have we not?”
She let out a short hiccup of a laugh, which Nathaniel took as agreement.
In bed that night, Nathaniel surprised her.
“Where did you want to run away to, when you stole your cousin’s clothes?” he asked sleepily.
“You heard that?”
“I was drunk, Boots. It don’t render a man deaf.”
She moved her head to a more comfortable position on his shoulder. “I thought I could sign on as a sailor, and get far away somewhere where women were allowed to ride horses astride, and learn to shoot.”
“And read what they pleased?”
“That was before I found out about books,” Elizabeth said. “When I did find out about them, it seemed for a long time that they would be enough to make up for the rest of it.”
He turned on his side, shifting her down so that he could look into her face.
“What is it about William Spencer that you want to tell me?”
“There is nothing to tell you about William Spencer,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “Not a single thing.”
But Elizabeth lay awake for a long time, contemplating the irony of a truth as unsettling as any lie.
LIV
With the approaching harvest, Elizabeth’s students began to disappear from her classroom. Boys and girls alike would be gone one day or two in an awkwardly revolving pattern, to reappear with an apologetic nod of the head and agricultural details Elizabeth had actually begun to grasp. By the end of the first week after Chingachgook’s funeral, with her own work at home increasing and the visit at hand pressing on her mind, she recognized the necessity of a natural recess in the rhythm of the school year. She proposed a small celebration to end a successful summer session, with recitations.
“And food?” Ephraim wanted to know.
“Of course,” Elizabeth agreed. “We would want to offer our guests something.”
“What’s a recitation?” asked Ruth Glove.
“Singing and poems and such,” proposed Dolly Smythe.
For the first time since she had come back to the classroom, Jemima Southern sat up to show some interest.
“Each of you would perform some small piece. Ian, you might recite a bit from Robinson Crusoe if you like, you have a very nice way with it. And Jemima, would you like to sing?”
The look of eager surprise on Jemima’s face gave Elizabeth great satisfaction. Finally, she had found a suggestion which seemed to wake the little girl up.
The date was set for the following Saturday evening.
“Our ma makes doughnuts on Saturdays,” Ephraim pointed out. “And folks smell better, too.” No one seemed surprised by this connection, and so Elizabeth bit down hard on her own smile. After more discussion, she set them to the task of writing invitations to their families.
Leaning over Ian Kirby’s slate while he puzzled out how to do such a thing, Elizabeth felt Hannah’s hand touch her arm, tentatively.
“Can I recite, too?”
Surprised, Elizabeth pulled up to look at her closely. “Of course you may, Hannah Bonner. You are a student in this class, are you not? Perhaps you could recite some Robert Burns.”
Hannah nodded thoughtfully, and turned back to her work.
When Elizabeth let the children go for the day, Curiosity was waiting on the step with a broad smile and a basket filled with bread and cake and other lovely things Elizabeth very much missed, although she would not admit this weakness. Before she could say a word in greeting, Curiosity had grasped Elizabeth by both arms and pulled her back into the empty classroom. Then she stood there, tapping one bare toe and smiling so broadly that Elizabeth found herself almost laughing in return.
“What is it?” she asked. “Good news?”
“Well, let me tell you,” Curiosity said. “There’s company at your pa’s, arrived late yesterday. Asking for you.”
Elizabeth’s face fell.
“Not that Merriweather woman! A Quaker gentleman.”
“Cousin Samuel,” Elizabeth said, brightening. “I was wondering.”
“Yas’m. Samuel Hench, and he brought a man called Joshua with him, a blacksmith.”
“Did he? I am glad he was able to come and call, he wasn’t sure he would find the time.”
Curiosity’s sharp gaze fixed on Elizabeth’s face, “That cousin of yours has been holed up with John Glove all morning. Spending money.”
Elizabeth turned away. “I suppose then he will want his dinner.”
“You a terrible fraud, Elizabeth. Look me in the face and say you don’t know nothing about the man’s business here.”
“Curiosity,” she said, turning back to spread her hands out in front of her in a gesture of surrender. “I suppose it was silly of me to think I could hide it from you. But let’s keep this between us, shall we?”
With a hoarse laugh, the older woman took Elizabeth firmly by the arms again and, leaning forward, planted a dry kiss on her forehead.
“I knew it!” she said, shaking her slightly. “I knew I weren’t mistaken about you.”
“But we can keep this between us?” Elizabeth prompted, again.
Curiosity nodded so that her turban wavered pre
cariously. “We can, if we must. But some things happening now, and you’ve got a hand in them.”
“What things?”
“Why, my Polly will be getting married, now that Benjamin has his papers. I wondered if this day would ever come. And right now Galileo is having a talk with Mr. Glove. We were thinking that maybe he would hire on our Manny, have him learn the mill business.”
“But what about Benjamin?”
“He’d come work for your pa, take Manny’s place and set up housekeeping with Polly.”
“I believe you could run a revolution single-handed, Curiosity.”
“So could most women,” she said with a dismissive flutter of her fingers. “A revolution ain’t nothing but a good spring cleaning long overdue, after all.” She thrust her basket in Elizabeth’s hands and picked up her skirts to go.
“You come down to the house this evening, all of you. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”
“Oh, Curiosity,” Elizabeth said slowly, stepping back. “I’m not sure.”
“None of that foolishness. He’s your pa, after all. And my Polly would be disappointed if you was to stay away.” She pulled up. “You told the man yet that you with child?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “There never was an opportunity. I’m surprised—” And she broke off, with a grin.
“You think I’m going to spill those particular beans, missy, you don’t know me overwell. That’s for you and your man to do. Tonight seem like a good time.”
“I just don’t know, Curiosity. With all that has happened—”
“Chingachgook was a good man, and now he’s gone. The Mohawk know the difference between the quick and the dead, and they don’t make young folk stop livin’ when the old move on ahead. If Falling-Day don’t want to come down the mountain ’Cause she don’t feel comfortable, that’s something else again. But you could come.”
Elizabeth hesitated, and then she nodded. “I will talk to Nathaniel.”
“You do that. And come along, then. You don’t smile enough these days, Elizabeth, and you got plenty to smile about, ain’t you?” Her eyes traveled over the line of Elizabeth’s skirt.
“You have a way of looking at things, Curiosity. It is very disarming.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, I’ll see you tonight, I hope.” And with a rustle of skirts she disappeared over the step.
Hannah appeared suddenly out of the other room with a whoop and a holler.
“Oh, can we go? Please?”
“You must learn not to startle me that way,” Elizabeth said, leaning back against her desk for support. “What were you doing in there?”
“Reading.” Hannah held up a tract that Mrs. Schuyler had sent for Elizabeth’s sake: A Present to be given to Teeming Women by their Husbands or Friends, Containing Directions for Women with Child. How to Prepare for the Hour of Travail. Written for the Private Use of a Gentlewoman of Quality: and now published for the Common Good.
“Oh, dear,” said Elizabeth uneasily. “I suppose you’ve read most of it already?”
Hannah nodded happily. “I don’t think my grandmother would agree with much of it. But it’s interesting anyway.”
“No doubt,” Elizabeth muttered.
She had set up the second schoolroom as her study and a library, of sorts. Nathaniel had made her a desk, and a comfortable chair; the light was good and the view over the lake wonderful. But when she could, Elizabeth preferred to work at home, to be near him. Hannah made more use of the study than Elizabeth did. It was not hard to understand, for Elizabeth remembered very well what a rare and valuable commodity privacy had been when she was young.
She began to sort through the books on her desk.
“I’m not sure if we shall go. I need to talk to your father about it.”
“If you want to go, he won’t say no,” Hannah said. “He can’t refuse you anything.”
“Is that so?” Elizabeth laughed. “Let’s get home, then, and see if you are right.”
Hannah cast a longing look toward the study. “Could I stay just a while longer?”
Elizabeth wanted very much to give Hannah the half hour she desired, but it was not a sensible thing to do. There was work waiting at home: the small fields of corn, beans, and squash that lay on the outer, sunny apron of the gorge demanded all the women’s energy now, and Hannah’s time outside of school was highly prized. Beyond that, Nathaniel and Runs-from-Bears were even more on guard these days than they had been. Billy Kirby had not yet made a move to avenge his hurt pride, but he would not wait forever.
“You can take the tract home with you until tomorrow.”
The child’s face darkened: disappointment, and a tinge of defiance. This lasted only for a moment, and then she turned and went back into the workroom, to reappear again empty-handed.
“It is not fair,” she said. “Being tethered all the time. I like it as little as Grandfather did, but you set him free.” And she threw Elizabeth a significant glance.
“Ah,” she said. “I wondered when you’d find out about that. Did the boys tell you?”
Hannah nodded. “It is easy for you to talk about staying close to home and being safe,” she said. “You’ve had your excitement, the summer in the bush and then breaking Grandfather out of Anna’s pantry.”
Elizabeth pressed the ridge of her nose between two fingers and a thumb. “Those were not pleasant experiences, Hannah,” she said. “I did not go looking for them, and I wish that neither had been necessary.”
The little girl shrugged one shoulder, unconvinced. “Everyone else in this family gets to have adventures. When will it be my turn?”
“Soon enough, I fear,” Elizabeth said. And hoped it was a lie.
There was another social call to pay, one that Elizabeth dreaded very much. But she thought that she might as well get it behind her, on the way to Polly’s engagement party. Kitty would not welcome her gladly, but she could not put aside the strong feeling that the younger woman did need help, and would accept it, if only Elizabeth could find the right words.
Nathaniel was not happy about the visit, but he seemed much easier when they found out that Mr. Witherspoon had gone to pay a call on Martha Southern. Hannah too did not mind the delay; she took a chair in the Witherspoons’ parlor and looked about herself with great curiosity and undisguised interest, jumping up to examine the books on the shelves with her hands crossed on her back, as if she could barely withstand the urge to touch the few well-read volumes. Elizabeth joined her and found what she had expected: Tillotson’s and Butler’s Sermons, much thumbed; Pilgrim’s Progress, Paradise Lost, Robinson Crusoe, with bindings carefully repaired; Walton’s Life of Dr. John Donne, Law’s A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, and Clarke’s A Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God, these less worn and dustier than the rest. There were also some volumes on medicine, which immediately caught Hannah’s attention. She sent Kitty a pleading look, and receiving a small nod in return, Hannah settled herself happily in the corner with The Anatomy of Humane Bodies with Figures Drawn After Life with an air of real industry.
Kitty’s still and disinterested expression was focused on Nathaniel, who was carrying most of the burden in trying to create a conversation; none of what came into Elizabeth’s head would serve at all, as most of it had to do with the neat, round expanse of Kitty’s middle. Until today Elizabeth had resisted the urge to calculate Kitty’s condition out in months, but found now that she could not deny what she saw before her. With some shock she reckoned that Kitty was perhaps seven months gone; Elizabeth wondered at herself, that she had been so preoccupied indeed in January, to have not noticed the game Julian had been playing with this girl. With this girl who would soon be a mother, without a husband’s support. She wished very much for some degree of intimacy with Kitty, so that she could discuss her situation with her openly, but the expression on the younger woman’s face made it clear that this was an impossibility.
Kitty had turned her attenti
on to Elizabeth, her pale eyes hooded.
“There was no word of Richard in Albany.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“I am afraid not.”
A lip curled down in gentle disbelief. “Really? You are disappointed not to have met him there?”
Elizabeth produced something that was meant to be a smile, determined not to lose her composure or temper. “I have brought you a few things from Albany.” She gestured to the basket Nathaniel had put down near the door. “I hope they will be of use.”
There was a notable silence.
“I will be in Albany to testify, when the time comes,” Kitty said. “When Richard is back. He will buy me what I require then.”
Because she did not know whether she should be affronted at such bad manners, or rightfully rebuked for having presumed that Kitty would accept any token from her, Elizabeth glanced away. On Nathaniel’s face there was wariness: he did not want Kitty—or anyone here—to know about the new court date, and the repercussions if Richard were not to appear. With some misgivings, Elizabeth swallowed down what she most wanted to say.
He saw what was on her mind, and rose to end the visit. “I am sure he will, Kitty. In the meantime, we got you some odds and ends to tide you over. Boots, they’ll be waiting for us.”
Hannah dropped a small curtsy before Kitty. “Did you know that Polly and Benjamin are getting married?” she asked. “We’re going to the party. Do you want to come?”
Kitty turned away to look out the window, her narrow back straight and her shoulders held so stiffly that Elizabeth thought a single touch might cause her to shatter.
Walking away from the house, Elizabeth had the sense of the empty windows at her back, as vacant as blind eyes.
It was Samuel Hench who gave Nathaniel and Elizabeth the news that Judge Middleton and his son had left for Albany just that afternoon. For once, Curiosity seemed not to know about the judge’s movements, and seeing the joyous faces in the parlor, Elizabeth understood her distraction.
“I thought perhaps that ye would not know,” Samuel said, his face troubled. “It did seem strange to me that they should go off so suddenly.”
