Over the Misty Mountains

by Gilbert, Morris

  Humor twinkled in Patrick’s eyes. “It’s usually the other way around, isn’t it? Big brother pushing the young sister into the mud. I’ll have a talk with her.”

  “Good. She’ll listen to you.” Elizabeth turned and went back into the room, sat down, and said, “That’s a new dress, isn’t it?”

  “This old thing? Why, I’ve had it for ages.” This meant, in the language of the Van Dorns, Charlotte had probably had the dress for two months and had worn it twice. She looked over at the accounting books that were on the desk and asked idly, “Have you been working on those old books again?”

  “Yes, a little bit.”

  “It would bore me to tears.”

  “I rather like it, Charlotte. It’s odd. I like poetry, and I like adding up figures. They don’t seem to go together, do they?”

  “Keeping books always seemed to me a man’s job.” Charlotte touched her hair into place, an action not at all needed. She said, in what seemed to be an idle tone, “I wish Will could take over that part of the business. He isn’t catching on to it too well, is he?”

  “I think he’s trying hard,” Elizabeth said in defense of her brother.

  “Oh yes. I know that. Still, one of these days he will be the head of the firm. I think he needs to take better hold of his responsibilities. I’ve been having a few talks with him about this.”

  I’ll just bet you have! Elizabeth thought grimly. She did not know what there was about Charlotte Van Dorn that bothered her, but something about the young socialite disturbed her greatly. She could not fault the woman’s manners, and yet there was some element in Charlotte’s character that grated on her nerves. Charlotte had a tendency to bully Will, which irritated Elizabeth, but she supposed many fiancées did that. She even bullied Patrick from time to time, but there was a difference in it. The two sat there talking for some time, until again the door opened and William Martin, Jr., came in. He was just under six feet, with dark brown eyes and hair. He came over at once and said rather diffidently, “I hoped I might find you here, Charlotte. Hello, Elizabeth.”

  “Sit down, Will.” Elizabeth smiled. “Tell us what you’ve been doing.”

  Will sat down and took a cup of tea. There was a nervousness—an insecurity about him—that was rather unusual for a man with his advantages. He had been born after his mother had suffered two miscarriages, and this had perhaps led to his mother’s devoting too much care to her one son. More than once Elizabeth had thought, Will would be better off if Mother kept her hands off him. She’s pampered him too much. Father knows it, but he can’t seem to do much about it. Aloud she said, “There must not be much going on at the firm. Patrick came home early, and now you.”

  “Well, it’s busy enough, I suppose,” Will said listlessly. He tinkered with the cup, sipped some tea, and then looked over at Charlotte, asking, “Is that a new dress, dear?”

  “Oh no! You’ll see my new one at dinner tonight. How are things at the firm?”

  “Oh, just fine. Father’s not feeling well. I wish he’d stay home more. I’ve tried to get him to do that, but you know how stubborn he can be.”

  “You should be more firm with him, Will. You’re going to take over when he—” Charlotte broke off suddenly, and a slight tinge of red came into her cheeks. Both of her listeners knew she had intended to say, “take over when he dies. . . .” but even Charlotte had enough tact not to say that. “You’ll take over,” she continued, “and you’ll have to know all the ins and outs. Look at Elizabeth. There she is doing the bookwork. Shouldn’t you be doing that?”

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” Elizabeth said.

  “I’m sure you don’t, but Will needs to be an expert in every aspect of the business. Show us what you’re doing. I’d like to see some of this myself.”

  Reluctantly, Elizabeth began to go over the accounts. It was not interesting at all, and once she asked Will, “You see these figures here?”

  “Yes,” Will said. “What about them?”

  “Well.” The line appeared between Elizabeth’s eyebrows. She said, “I can’t figure it out. The books show that some money is missing—that fewer goods had been delivered to a customer in Virginia than the books reported.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s just a mistake.”

  “Who made the entries?” Charlotte asked instantly.

  “Why, I think Patrick did.”

  Charlotte’s eyebrows rose, and she laughed with a false note. “Maybe Patrick ran off with the rest of the money.”

  Will started and stared at his fiancée, then laughed. “That would be a joke, wouldn’t it?”

  However, Elizabeth sensed something more than a joke in Charlotte’s words. “It’s bound to be just a mistake. I’ll ask Father about it when he comes home.”

  “Come along, Will. I want us to talk about the new furniture. After all, we only have a month to get it all picked out before the wedding.”

  With a groan Will rose. “I’ll leave you with the books, Elizabeth,” he said.

  “All right. You two run along.” Elizabeth sat there after they left. The line between her eyebrows grew deeper as she looked down at the entry, and she thought about the tone in Charlotte’s voice. She knew full well that Charlotte Van Dorn did not like her husband, that she looked down on him for his lowly origins, and the thought angered her. Almost viciously she slammed the book shut and muttered, “Will, you’re making a mistake marrying that woman!” However, she knew that there was nothing she could do about it, so she rose and left the room, trying to put the incident from her mind.

  Chapter Ten

  Patrick MacNeal

  “Did you have a good talk with Sarah, Patrick?”

  Patrick was struggling to get his collar fastened, a skill that always seemed to elude him. He stood before the ornate oval mirror, carved in gold leaf, his thick fingers fumbling with the cravat. “I can’t tie this thing!” he finally exclaimed, turning to Elizabeth.

  “Here, let me do it for you.”

  Elizabeth had already finished dressing. She was wearing a light blue dress of embroidered silk. The neckline was square and the bodice tight with fine tucks in the front, accented with dark blue ribbon and white lace. The funnel-shaped sleeves were done with three layers of lace. A dark blue ribbon outlined the full skirt, and the underskirt was quilted of the same material. She smiled as she expertly tied Patrick’s tie. “You can fix any kind of machinery on the place, but you can’t tie your own tie. I never could understand it.” She patted it, then rephrased her question. “What did Sarah say?”

  “She said she pushed Andrew in the mud!”

  “I know she did that, but did she say why she did it?”

  Patrick picked up the silver comb-and-brush set that Elizabeth had given him for a wedding gift. He ran the brush through his thick red hair, which curled rebelliously, and he murmured, “I think she just wanted to.”

  “Well, you talked to her! What did you say?”

  “I told her not to push Andrew in the mud again.” He turned, grinned, and said, “Isn’t that what you wanted me to say?”

  “She’s your daughter!”

  “She’s always my daughter when she does something wrong!”

  “She’s more like you than like me. Isn’t that odd?” she said.

  “What’s odd about it?”

  “Well, you’d think a boy would take after his father, and a girl would be like her mother, but Andrew’s a lot like me, isn’t he?”

  “He’s not as pretty as you.” Patrick came over and put his arms around Elizabeth and gave her a squeeze. “You’re right about Sarah, though,” he said, lifting his eyebrows. “She does seem to have a willful streak in her—like me.”

  “You’re not willful!”

  “That’s all you know! I just haven’t let it creep out. I wanted to marry you so much, I guess I would have agreed to wear purple suits if that’s what you’d wanted.”

  Elizabeth liked it when he talked like this. She reached up and patted his chee
k, murmuring, “You do have your moments, Patrick MacNeal! Well, I suppose no harm is done.”

  “Are you ready to go down?” Patrick said, glad to be finished with the discussion. He had a soft spot in his heart for Sarah, knowing that at times she did display the same streak of stubbornness that ran in his Scotch-Irish blood. He was afraid it would get her into trouble one day, and he was happy that it did not seem to be appearing quite so prominently in Andrew.

  “I suppose so.” Elizabeth picked up a shawl, and as he put it around her shoulders, she said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. There was a discrepancy in the ledger for the shipment that went to the McMillan Company in Williamsburg.”

  “I remember that shipment,” Patrick said. A puzzled look crossed his face. “Everything went as smoothly as it could. I checked it twice. The right goods were delivered.”

  “Well, I suppose it will all be smoothed out. As much merchandise as we ship, it’s a wonder there aren’t more mistakes.” She saw Patrick bite his lip as he stood in the middle of the floor. There was a strength in the man that belied his wiry stature, and not just physical strength. Elizabeth had seen a firmness and depth of integrity in him that most men lacked, qualities she had grown to appreciate and lean on through their marriage.

  He turned to her and said suddenly, “We’ll have to get it straightened out. Your mother doesn’t need another reason not to trust me.”

  Elizabeth gave him a quick look. She knew he was right about her mother’s suspicions, but she did not like to admit it. Quickly she changed the subject. “I’m worried about Father,” she said. “He’s got to slow down.”

  “I know. I’m very fond of your father. No man could have been kinder to a son-in-law.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, Patrick. He does think highly of you.”

  “I only wish I were better at the business. It would be better if I were as good with my head as I am with my hands.”

  “You’re doing fine. Father was telling me just yesterday how hard you’ve worked, trying to take the load off of him.”

  “I wish I could help him with more. Oh, don’t forget I’ll be leaving in the morning for Virginia.”

  “I know. I haven’t forgotten. I’ll get up and help Rebekah make you a nice breakfast. I’ll get the children up, too.”

  “It’ll be too early for them.”

  “They can go back to bed and sleep if they want to. Andrew’s asked a dozen times to go with you. Do you suppose you could take him this time?”

  “Maybe the next trip. I’m afraid this one will be long and tiring.” He smiled and said, “Besides, Sarah would have a fit if I took Andrew and left her home. I’ll have to take both of them somewhere when I get back.”

  “That would be good,” Elizabeth said. She reached up and patted his cheek. “Now, try to remember which fork to eat with.”

  “I’ll watch you,” he said. “That’s what I always do anyhow. As long as we’ve been married, a fork’s still a fork to me.”

  “Well, at least you don’t still use your knife to eat the peas.” Her eyes laughed at him.

  He reached out and squeezed her waist. “All right,” he said, “enough lessons in manners. Let’s go down and eat.”

  ****

  The meal was excellent, as always in the Martin household. It was served in the large formal dining room, which was lit by silver candelabras with the light cast from the warm fire flickering in the verde marble fireplace. The green-and-gold mica wallpaper and many mirrors caught the light and gave the room a certain warmth. The aroma of turtle soup, potted fish, and beef filled the air as the family sat at the large mahogany dining table. These delicacies were brought in and placed on a gilt-edged wood serving table to one side of the room. On a large mahogany sideboard, which was placed behind Mr. Martin, were silver platters filled with artichokes with toasted cheese, assortments of cheeses, and a truffle for dessert. William asked the blessing, and as Rebekah brought a silver tureen filled with turtle soup and began serving it, he said to Patrick, “I’m sorry you have to make that run tomorrow. Lately, it seems as though I’m running your legs off—but business is picking up so much somebody has to do it.”

  “Those are good customers in Virginia,” Patrick said. He watched his soup bowl as Rebekah spooned out the clear broth, smiled up at her, and said, “Thank you.” Picking up his spoon, he sipped it carefully and said, “You tell your grandmother this is good soup, Rebekah.” He received a shy smile as a reward, then turned to William and said, “Business is good in Virginia, particularly that area. More settlers are moving in all the time.”

  “They’re mostly a rough sort, aren’t they?” The question came from Charlotte, who sat across the table from Will. As Elizabeth had expected, she wore a new gown straight from the dressmaker’s. The dress was an exquisite pale yellow silk of the open sack-backed style with a green bow decorating the front of it. The neckline was square and low in the back, and the tight-fitting sleeves ended with a bow and a delicate row of white lace at the elbows. A dark green brocade trimmed the edges of the neckline on down to the full skirt. The underskirt was layered with yellow pleated panels, edged with the same dark green brocade. As usual, she looked beautiful, and she followed up her question by saying, “There can’t be much profit in that area. All they need are butter churns and brooms.”

  Patrick grinned. “They make their own brooms, I think. But it’s filling up quicker than you think.” He listened as the talk about Virginia went around the table.

  “I heard that some people are moving across the mountains, the Appalachians. Is that right, Patrick?” Will asked.

  “Yes, quite a few of them, as I understand.” An excitement came into Patrick MacNeal’s face, and he put his soup spoon down and began to speak of the land that lay across the Appalachians. “That’s a whole new unexplored continent over there. Why, they say a squirrel could go a hundred miles jumping from tree to tree and never touch the ground! And deer are thicker than cattle!”

  He was interrupted as Charlotte said, “But the king outlawed settlement in that country back in 1763, when the war ended! Isn’t that right?”

  “I don’t know whether it was right or not, but he certainly did forbid it.” Patrick shrugged. “A line on a piece of paper isn’t going to stop people who want homes. On my last trip to Virginia, I talked to a lot of those who have gone and come back, and what I hear is that land is filling up pretty fast.” Pausing, he picked up the knife on the platter of beef set close beside him and hewed off a chunk of it. He placed it on his plate, then looked up and said wistfully, “I wouldn’t mind seeing that country myself. It would be something to see. I’d love to ride to the top of a mountain ridge and look out as far as the horizon and see what God has made.”

  Anne Martin was aghast. She gave her son-in-law a frozen look and said, “That is not much of an ambition, Patrick! Living with a bunch of savages who sit around scratching fleas!”

  Elizabeth flushed, as she always did when her mother threw one of her barbed remarks at Patrick. “I’m sure it’s not quite like that, Mother.”

  “I don’t know why you should think that,” Anne said spitefully. “That territory is filled with murdering savages. If you’d read your history, you’d know that! It was only the British who put a stop to that, and I think they should have gone through and driven all the savages away.”

  “Away where, Mrs. Martin?” Patrick said quietly. He very rarely challenged his mother-in-law, but somehow her remark had irritated him. “Would you have the militia butcher them all? I thought that’s why you hated them—for doing that to white settlers. It is their right to live there. I just wish that everyone would realize that we are all God’s children, and that there is enough land for us all to share and live together peacefully.”

  Anne Martin was not accustomed to being questioned. A tall, thin woman of fifty-five, her youthful beauty had faded, with lines tightly drawn around her mouth and eyes. There was a kindness in her, but it lay buried deep. She ha
d married William for love and moved to the Colonies, but she was still bound by the traditions of English nobility. And the disappointment of Elizabeth’s choice of a husband had soured her. She simply could not refrain from criticizing him in public.

  “I think the less said on this subject the better, Patrick!” she pronounced firmly.

  Patrick looked over at Elizabeth. He would have said more, but he saw that she was watching him with a plea in her eyes. His eyes shifted to his children, and Sarah’s lips were set in a firm line. She would be ready to defend him in a moment, while Andrew looked at him hopefully, not wanting to hear a family argument. “It was only a dream,” he said, putting down his fork, for the meat had suddenly become tasteless. There in the middle of a fine supper, the crux of his life had suddenly surfaced. He was a man who loved the out-of-doors, and he was doomed to work inside warehouses, running his tired eyes down lines of figures. But he loved his wife, he respected his father-in-law, and he even understood his mother-in-law’s dissatisfaction with him. I’d probably feel the same, he thought, if one of my children married someone I didn’t like.

  Elizabeth said quickly, “This is a wonderful roast. I think the cooking gets better all the time around here.”

  “When we’re married,” Charlotte said to Will, “I’ve arranged to have a cook come over from France.”

  “From France?” Will stared at her blankly. “Why from France?”

  “Why, they have the best chefs in the world!”

  “I’d argue with that,” Mr. Martin said. He was looking pale, and those who knew him best understood that he was in some pain. Nevertheless, he managed a smile and said, “Those times I’ve been in France I wasn’t overwhelmed with the taste I’ve had of their cooking.”

  Charlotte smiled sweetly. “Oh, you’ll learn to change your taste, Father, when I get François settled. I promise you.” She suddenly glanced over at Elizabeth and said, “Did you get the problem of the missing money settled, Elizabeth?”