For one moment, Patrick was absolutely silent, then he swallowed and said, “I met a man in Virginia from Pittsylvania County—a Jed Smith. He told me about another man who has been over the Appalachians and has already settled there with some friends. You should have heard how he talked about the land, Elizabeth. How beautiful it was . . . and free for the taking! Where men could live and make their way with their own land!”
“Who was the man who moved?”
“William Bean. He’s moved his family down to a little river called the Watauga, and a great many of his friends and his family are joining him.” His voice grew excited and he said, “Smith said Bean’s making a fine settlement, and others are planning to join him as well.” His strong hand squeezed Elizabeth’s so hard that it hurt her, but she saw that he was carried away.
“What do you want to do, Patrick?” she asked again.
“Well, he asked if I would come with him, and bring you and the children.” His eyes gleamed, and he said, “I’ve never said anything to you about this because it was asking you to give up too much. But, Elizabeth, if we could just get somewhere where I could be my own man! Where I could grow the food for my own family, and build our own house, and could teach Andrew these things. I wouldn’t care if we had anything or not. It would be freedom!”
Elizabeth knew then what she had to do. She said quietly, “If this is what you think God wants you to do, I’m your wife, Patrick. The children and I will go with you.”
“Have you prayed about it, Elizabeth?” Patrick asked with amazement.
“Not about this in particular . . .” Elizabeth hesitated. “But I’ve been praying for some time that I would be a better wife to you. And looking back over our lives together, I see how easy it’s been for me—and how hard it’s been for you. You’ve never complained, and I’ve loved you for it.”
Patrick gnawed his lower lip and shook his head. “It would be a hard life, Elizabeth. I don’t think you have any idea how hard. I don’t think I do, though I’ve listened to them talk. There’s danger from the Indians, hard work . . .” He went on speaking of the difficulties of the life that waited for those who crossed the misty mountains. Finally he paused and shook his head. “It’s asking too much of you and the children.”
“You know, Patrick,” Elizabeth said slowly. “Ever since you told us how you got off the boat, just a homeless boy without a penny in your pocket, and how you were not afraid because God was with you and you knew it, I’ve been envious of that.” Elizabeth stroked Patrick’s hand and was silent for a moment. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “I’ve never really trusted God for anything. My family gave me whatever I wanted. Once in my life,” she said in a whisper, “I’d like to know that my faith is real. Not just something I talk about or hear sermons about. I’d like to trust God to take care of me when nobody else can.”
“Are you afraid, Elizabeth?”
“I . . . I think I am a little . . . but if you’ll love me and help me, I’ll go wherever you go.”
The two sat there for a long time, saying little, but something had changed and they both knew it. Patrick looked over at the door and suddenly laughed. “You know,” he said quietly, “I was afraid to go through that door, but now, why, it’s just a door. Come along, we’ve got a ball to attend, and I know who’ll be the happiest couple there.”
Elizabeth knew at that moment that she had made the right decision. She did not know what lay ahead of her, but she knew one thing—she and Patrick were one as they never had been before! She rose, took his arm, and the two of them passed out of the bedroom, into the hallway, and made their way down the stairs to the ballroom where the dancers had already begun.
Chapter Thirteen
Discovery in the Library
The architect who had designed the Martin mansion had been instructed to make the ballroom large enough to accommodate a great number of people. Taking Mrs. Martin at her word, he had made a ballroom second to none among the private mansions in Boston. It was a large rectangular room, well-lit by three cut-glass chandeliers and many gilded mirror-backed sconces placed around the entire room. The floor was an alabaster-colored marble. The walls were plain, except where they met the ceiling, and here a very ornate border of white tinplates circled the room. Large pillars placed about six feet from the outside walls formed arches at the ceiling and provided a grand entrance to the ballroom floor. Behind these pillars were many serving tables, covered with white silk damask. The tables held cut-crystal punch bowls and cups and delectable-looking food.
Silver tureens of soup, platters of cold lobster, potted meats, spit-roasted venison, beef, and goose filled the room with their aromas. Large bowls of oyster sauce, chestnut stuffing, spinach, and peach flummery filled the other tables along with a selection of cheeses expertly placed on the delicately engraved silver trays. Candied fruits, puff pastries with jams, and wafers of all sorts covered a dessert frame in the center of the dessert table.
Large floor-length windows ran along the outside wall, and each had a rich taffeta pull-up curtain in blue. Queen Anne chairs covered in blue and white silk damask stood in pairs around the room. At the end of the room, to the right, was a set of French doors that led to the gardens, and here is where the orchestra played. The ballroom had two large verde-and-marble fireplaces, and above these were large rectangular-shaped looking glasses with gilt frames that caught the flickering light from the pair of George II silver candelabra on the mantel.
Soft music filled the ballroom as Mr. and Mrs. Van Dorn stood speaking with their host. Mrs. Jane Van Dorn had some traces of her daughter’s beauty. Her hair was still pale blond, and she had the same classic features that her daughter had. There was, however, a weakness in her face—and her character—that Charlotte somehow never manifested. Mrs. Van Dorn spoke very rarely, and she did not seem to have any of the more arrogant traits that many wealthy, influential ladies in high society displayed.
Her husband, Henry Van Dorn, looked more like a butcher than a successful shipping magnate. Standing no more than five feet eight, he was greatly overweight, and his brown hair had disappeared, except for a fringe around the back of his head. He compensated for this by growing a magnificent set of muttonchop whiskers, which he ran his hands through as if it gave him some pleasure.
“Magnificent ball, Mrs. Martin!” Mr. Van Dorn said, looking around at the dancers as they whirled on the ballroom floor. “I must say I’ve never seen such a beautiful ballroom, and it seems everybody from Boston is here.”
“Well, thank you,” Anne Martin said, nodding and taking the compliment as her due. She was satisfied that she could win her way over any plans that Mrs. Van Dorn might have had, and now she saw nothing in Mr. Van Dorn to stand in her way of any plans that she might make for the young couple.
They talked for some time, and then Mr. Van Dorn looked sharply at his host and said, “Sorry to hear about the trouble you’ve had—with your son-in-law, I mean.”
“I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind, Mr. Van Dorn.” William Martin did not look well. He was wearing a green suit with green knee britches and white stockings. His waistcoat was a green-and-tan stripe, and his topcoat was a hunter green velvet, but it hung loosely on him, and his face was drawn and tense.
Instantly Van Dorn said, “Well, of course not! Better not to talk about things like that.”
The two men wandered off, and Mrs. Martin said at once, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of my husband, but I never really trusted Patrick. I tried my best to prevent Elizabeth from marrying him, but she was dazzled by him. He does have a certain charm, and of course he’s very good-looking.”
“It must be dreadful for you,” Mrs. Van Dorn said quietly.
“I’m mostly concerned about my daughter and the grandchildren. These things never seem to pass away. I just don’t know what they’ll do.”
Mrs. Van Dorn looked across the ballroom to where Charlotte was dancing with Will. “They ma
ke a lovely couple, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do. Charlotte’s dress is beautiful.”
Charlotte seemed aware of the gaze of those in the room. Her dress was beautiful—and should have been. The cost of it could have fed a good-sized village in Massachusetts for several weeks. She was wearing an open-robe gown made of the finest cream-colored silk. The bodice was form fitting and had overlapping rows of cream-colored lace interwoven with baby blue ribbon. The sleeves were snug and ended at the elbow with a large flounce of lace. It had a low neckline decorated with lace and ribbon that followed the edges of the robe into the skirt. The underskirt was full and had the same lace and ribbon overlapping so that the cream silk beneath was barely visible.
Looking up at Will, she said, “Look, there’s Patrick and Elizabeth. I’m surprised he had the nerve to come.”
Will glanced over and saw his sister and brother-in-law entering, but he said nothing. He had been stunned by the evidence against Patrick and had wished that the ball had been put off until the matter had been resolved. However, his mother and Charlotte had insisted on going on with it, since the invitations had already been sent.
Charlotte said, “Well, one good thing, we won’t have to have anything to do with them. They wouldn’t have the nerve to expect to keep their place in the family!”
Will suddenly turned and looked directly at Charlotte. “Elizabeth is my sister, and I love her dearly! Patrick may have done wrong, but he’s still my brother-in-law and Elizabeth’s husband!”
“But you’re not thinking that we’ll see them socially?”
William Martin Jr. was a gentle young man who disliked arguments. He had never once crossed Charlotte’s will, but now something like anger came to him, and he said suddenly, with his voice biting, “It’s nice that you’ve never done anything wrong, Charlotte! The rest of us mere mortals have to admit that we’re not perfect and stumble around. We’ll have to bow at your feet!”
Charlotte’s face turned pale, and she could not say a word. Though she was a good dancer, she missed a step and finally managed to say, “I think I must excuse myself, Will.”
“Of course.” Will led her to the edge of the floor and watched her for a moment. He saw her go to her father’s side, speak to him, and then the two of them left the ballroom.
“I suppose I’ve hurt her feelings,” he muttered. “Well, I can’t help that.” Seeing that no one was speaking to Elizabeth and Patrick, he pulled himself up straight and walked over and stopped directly in front of them. “Hello, Patrick,” he said.
“Why, good evening, Will.”
Will looked at Elizabeth and said, “That’s a beautiful dress you have on.” She was wearing a plum-colored silk open-robe gown. The neckline was decorated with an ivory-colored lace that followed the line of the gown down the skirt, with two rows of matching lace fluttering against her lower arms. The underskirt, made of a lilac-colored silk, had four large rows of the same lace peeking from beneath the robe.
“Why, thank you, Will.” Elizabeth suddenly reached out and touched his cheek. “And thank you for coming over to speak to us.”
“It’s nothing,” Will muttered. He looked at Patrick and added gruffly, “Don’t worry too much about these things, Patrick. They have a way of passing.”
He turned and walked away quickly, and they stared after him. “That was nice of Will,” Patrick said.
“He’s a good man. He’s too easily led by Charlotte, I’m afraid. He’s not going to have a very happy life.”
“Well, I’m going to have a happy life. Come on, let’s show these folks what real dancing is like!” Patrick took Elizabeth in his arms, and they glided around the floor, ignoring the stares of those who wondered how they could look so happy.
****
On the fourth floor of the mansion where the servants’ quarters were, Rebekah could hear the music faintly. She stood on the stair landing, listened to it, and moved around, pretending she was dancing. Then she went inside and saw that her grandmother had already gone to sleep. Mrs. Martin had hired caterers for the ball and had insisted that Rebekah and her grandmother were not needed for the evening. It was early, and she was not sleepy. Moving over to the desk, she picked up a book and muttered, “Oh, I’ve already finished this one.”
Restlessly, she walked around the room, considered reading the book again, but the thought displeased her. An idea came to her, and she glanced at her grandmother, then went to the door, holding the book in her hand. Leaving the room, she went down the hall and descended to the first floor. The music floated up from the ballroom, and she longed to go look at the dancers, but she dared not. Moving to the library, she slipped inside and blinked her eyes. Only one small candle was lit in a sconce on the wall, and it had nearly guttered out. Quickly she crossed the room, moving carefully to avoid stumbling over the desk. She reached the spot where the two corners of the bookcases met and, groping around, felt for the gap from where the book she held had been taken. She knew the book to the right of it was the second in the series. Replacing the one, she reached for the other. She had no sooner pulled it down when suddenly the door to the library opened, allowing the light to flood in, then it closed again.
Rebekah was terrified. She felt like an intruder and wanted to flee, but there was no way out. Whoever had entered was standing just inside the door, and she could not slip by unnoticed. She suspected it was a young couple who had come to have a moment alone in the darkness, but then when they spoke, she recognized Charlotte’s voice immediately.
Can that be Mr. Will? Rebekah thought. But she did not recognize the voice that came. Then she heard Charlotte whisper, “Father, it’s all going to work out fine.” And she knew that it was Mr. Van Dorn, Charlotte’s father, whom she had seen once already.
“We must be careful.” The voice came in a secretive whisper. “If we’re found out, it would be terrible, Charlotte.”
“We’re not going to be found out. I’ve taken care of that.”
“How can you be sure of it?”
“Because I’ve changed the ledgers so that they think Patrick has stolen the money. How will they ever know any different?”
“That’s what you said in your letter, but it’s very dangerous. A study of the books might—”
“Nobody’s going to study the books!” Charlotte said. “It’s all done, and all we have to do is wait and be careful. You did destroy the letter, didn’t you? The one I wrote you?”
There was a silence, and Mr. Van Dorn whispered, “No, I didn’t.”
“Father, you’re a fool! If anyone saw that letter—!”
“They won’t see it! I promise you!”
“Is it at home? One of the servants might see it!”
“No, it’s in my suitcase in my guest room.”
“Then, as soon as this party’s over, go up and destroy it!”
“All right. I will.”
Rebekah stood there listening, and suddenly it all clearly fell into place. She remembered how she had seen Charlotte changing the books the day she was dusting in the library, and how angry the woman had become and had driven her out of this very room. Now she knew the truth, but what could she do about it? She was terrified lest they find her there, so she crouched down and listened as they continued to whisper.
“If you hadn’t lost most of our money in that foolish investment, we wouldn’t have to be doing things like this!” Charlotte snapped.
“It was a sure thing! I did it for the family.”
“You have almost made paupers out of us, and now the only hope that we have is to take over the Martin Shipping Company. If they ever found out how close to bankruptcy we are, Anne Martin would call the wedding off. That’s the reason I’ve been pushing for an early wedding.”
“I . . . I wish we didn’t have to do this.”
“We’ll be doing them a favor. Will’s a fool! He could never run the business. As for Patrick, he’s a nobody! Who cares what happens to him?”
“
I suppose so,” Mr. Van Dorn said, his voice tired. “We’d better get back to the party before they miss us.”
“Don’t forget. Burn that letter as soon as the party’s over.”
“All right, Charlotte.”
The door opened again, and Rebekah blinked against the light, then it closed. Her heart was beating fast, and she waited only long enough to give the pair time to move away. Then she quickly left the library. No one was in the hallway, so she ran to the stairs and hurried to the second floor. They’d never believe me. It would be my word against theirs. I’ve got to have that letter . . . !
She went to the room that the Van Dorns were occupying and tried the door. It was unlocked. She stepped inside quickly, and by the light of the lamp on the bedside, she scanned the room. There were three bags beside the bed, and she opened two of them, finding them filled with Mrs. Van Dorn’s things. The last one was obviously Mr. Van Dorn’s. She went through the contents with trembling hands, thinking, If someone comes in, they’ll think I’m a thief. I’ll be put in jail. But she had to go on. Finally she found a thin package of letters next to his shaving kit. With hands trembling so badly she could hardly handle the papers, she went through them until she found the one signed by Charlotte in which she told her father how she had changed the books. Quickly she replaced the things in the suitcase, put it down, and left the room. Fear made her knees tremble, and she stopped to take a deep breath, for she felt faint.
“I’ve got to tell Elizabeth and Patrick, but they’re at the ball now. I’ll wait until morning, then I’ll give them the letter.”
Chapter Fourteen
Conspiracy Unveiled
“What’s that? Did you hear something, Patrick?”
Elizabeth slept very lightly. She had heard what she thought was a faint scratching at the door and sat upright in bed. Reaching over, she shook Patrick, saying urgently, “Wake up! There’s somebody at the door!”
Over the Misty Mountains Page 16
