The room grew absolutely still, and the sound of the clock ticking sounded very loud as he calmly read it. Finally, he raised his eyes and put them on Charlotte. “I’m ashamed of you, Charlotte! And for you, sir,” he said, turning his eyes on Mr. Van Dorn. “If I were a younger man, I would call you out for this. As it is, I will tell you to take yourself, and your family, out of my house and never be seen here again!”
Mrs. Van Dorn’s face was as pale as paper. She evidently knew nothing of all of this, and Elizabeth felt a great compassion for her. She went to the woman at once, saying, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Van Dorn. Could I get you a glass of water? You look faint.”
“No,” Mrs. Van Dorn whispered. “I . . . I really don’t understand any of this.”
Charlotte was watching Will’s face. She did not take her eyes off of him. He had lost his color also, and there was a trembling in his lip for a moment. “Will,” she said, “what about . . . what about us?”
Will reached over and took the paper from his father’s hand. He scanned it, then handed it back to his father. “There is no us,” he said briefly. “I hope I never lay eyes on you as long as I live!”
It was a terrible moment, and it was Elizabeth who said, “Mr. Van Dorn, I think it would be best if you’d take your family away from here immediately. If you’ll come with me, Mrs. Van Dorn, I’ll take you to your room. Will, would you see that the carriage is called for the Van Dorns while they get ready to leave?”
“Certainly,” Will said and left the room without another word.
The Van Dorns shuffled toward the door, all of them moving as if they were in a daze. As soon as they were gone, Anne turned to her husband, her knees very weak, and whispered, “William, it can’t be true!”
“Here’s the letter.”
Anne took the letter and tried to read it, but she could not seem to focus. She stood there and looked very helpless. Patrick, who had moved slightly away as if disassociating himself from the pair, started to leave the room, but then he came over and stood before his mother-in-law. “I know this is hard for you, Anne,” he said, calling her by her first name, which he had not done since he had been married to Elizabeth. “It’s always hard to be disillusioned, but believe me, it’s better for you and far better for Will that this came about before they were married.”
Anne raised her eyes to look into the face of the young man that she had so despised. She expected to see hatred and triumph in his countenance, but instead she only saw compassion. Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, “Patrick, I’m . . . I’m so sorry!”
He interrupted her and put his hand out. When she groped for it blindly, he took her hand with both of his and said, “I don’t want you to feel any guilt about this. We’ve all been deceived by people at one time or another. You have a good heart. You just put it in the wrong place.”
“Patrick—” William had come to stand in front of his son-in-law. “I can’t think of what to say,” he said lamely. “No, don’t interrupt me. All my life I’ve prided myself on being faithful to my friends. Even if you had done what you were accused of, my behavior has been unforgivable.” He put his hand out and said, “I’m sorry. That’s little enough, but that’s all that a man can say.”
“Thank you, sir. We’ll say no more about it,” Patrick said. “I’m just happy the real tragedy has been averted.”
Patrick turned and left the room, and instantly Anne turned to her husband. “How could we have been so wrong?”
“Nobody ever knows how he makes a fool of himself. We’ll look back, and for a long time we’ll be remembering that there were signs that we were headed the wrong way.”
“How can Patrick and Elizabeth ever forgive us?” Anne moaned.
“It’s not that. They’ve already done it, I think. But how can we forgive ourselves?” William said. “That’s the hard part. It always is.”
****
For two days after the Van Dorns hastily departed, the Martin household was strangely quiet. People seemed to speak in a whisper until Sarah and Andrew finally looked at each other and Andrew said, “It’s like somebody died. I don’t see what everybody’s so sad about.”
“I don’t either. Now Will doesn’t have to marry that old Charlotte woman!” Sarah said.
The adults seemed oblivious to their conversation, as the Martins were still struggling through the difficult time. The marriage was off, which meant that Anne Martin would have to spend a great deal of time explaining the reasons to her friends. “We can never tell the truth,” she said to her husband.
“I think we should. Patrick deserves it.”
Anne shook her head. “I mentioned it to him. He said there was no point in harming that family anymore. I think he feels sorry for Mrs. Van Dorn. I don’t think she knew anything about any of this.”
“No, she seems to be a sweet woman. I feel sorry for her, with that scoundrel she’s married to and that daughter of hers. I fear it will be hard on Patrick too. People will always remember that he was accused. And they’ll think that Charlotte broke her engagement because there were thieves in the family.”
“I doubt if she’ll be saying a great deal. From what I understand, the Van Dorns are pretty well broke.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“I’ve made some discreet inquiries of a few of my business friends in New York. It seems the Van Dorns are in debt over their heads and have borrowed from everybody they could.”
“Why didn’t we hear any word of this before it all happened?”
“Would we have believed it?” William said. “In any case, I think Patrick is right. It’s hard now, but think how it would have been if Will had married Charlotte. They would never have known a moment’s happiness.”
That evening at supper, everyone’s spirits seemed to be somewhat better. At least Elizabeth and Patrick were almost boisterous, and their ease and apparent happiness brought Will out of his depression. Finally, at the end of the meal, Will spoke up. “I don’t know how to say this, Patrick. No man likes to admit he was a fool, but I was. I was wrong about you, and I’m sorry.”
Patrick was embarrassed. “Enough apologies. It’s all over, Will. I say let the past be buried.”
“One thing is going to change.” Everyone looked at William and he smiled at Patrick. “You’re coming back to the firm, but this time as a full partner.” He waited for Patrick to leap at the invitation, but when the tall red-headed man said nothing, William glanced at Elizabeth and saw a slight smile on her lips. “Well, aren’t you happy to hear this news, daughter?”
“Well . . . yes, but we have news of our own. Tell them, Patrick.”
Patrick leaned forward and said, “I know this is going to come as a shock to you. I know you’ve had more than your share of difficult news lately, but, well, Elizabeth and the children and I”—he looked across at Andrew and Sarah who were listening intently—“will be leaving this house.”
“Are you going to get a place of your own?” Anne asked, surprised.
“Well, more than that. We’re leaving Boston. We’re starting a new life.”
“You’re going to work for another shipping firm?” Mr. Martin asked, incredulous. “But that’s not wise. Whatever you could do with them, you won’t be a partner.”
“I won’t be having any partners in my new venture,” Patrick said. He hesitated, then said, “You’re going to think we’ve lost our minds, but we’ve decided to move over the mountains. We’re going to be pioneers.”
The silence lasted for about three full seconds, and then Andrew let out a whoop that any wild Indian would have been proud of. “Pa, can I have a horse when we get across the mountains?”
“Sure you can, son. And, Sarah, you can have a spinning wheel and learn how to make your own clothes.”
“No, I want a horse, too. Just like Andrew.”
“And you’ll have one,” Elizabeth said.
For the next thirty minutes, the conversation was rather one-sided. The o
lder Martins tried desperately to dissuade the couple from throwing themselves into such a venture, but William soon saw that his son-in-law’s mind was made up, and he knew well the steadfastness of Elizabeth. Finally he said gently, “I know you two are followers of the Lord. I assume you’ve prayed about this.”
“Yes, we have, Father, and I know it seems very unwise, leaving everything, but we’re trusting in God, and we believe it’s what He would have for our family.”
“In that case, I will say no more. It will be grievous to lose you, Elizabeth, and you too, Patrick, and these grandchildren. But a man and a woman must make their own way. I want to pray for your safety.” He bowed his head, and the thought came to him as he was praying, Once they leave, I will never see them again. He knew that his heart condition was worse than anyone suspected. He also knew that the journey would be long, and once they left they could not come back for years, perhaps. In any case, he was saying a final farewell to them.
There were tears on his cheeks as he concluded his prayer. “ . . . And I ask, O gracious God and Father of all, protect Patrick and Elizabeth from the dangers of the wilderness, the frontier. From the Indians, from sickness, from disease. Protect these two children, Lord. Help them, and give them courage to meet whatever danger arises, and we know that whatever they have is in your hands, and when we put our lives in your hands, all things will be very well. I ask you to watch over them, to build a fence around them so that evil cannot come in, and I ask it in the powerful name of Jesus Christ.”
Everyone at the table said “Amen”—even Anne Martin. She was perhaps even more grieved than her husband, for she realized that for years she had almost daily belittled her son-in-law. Now that he was lost to her, in effect, she knew it was too late. She said her own prayer, asking for forgiveness, and when they arose, Patrick came to her, and she whispered, “Forgive me, Patrick.”
“All’s forgiven, Mother,” he said, calling her such for the first time. “Now it’s put away forever.”
Will took Elizabeth aside and said quietly, “I hate to see you two leave. You’ll be so far away.”
“You’ll have to take care of Father. He needs all the help he can get.”
“I know.” A slight shudder ran through his frame, and he said, “Think what an awful mess I almost made. I almost married that horrible woman!”
“You’ll have to be more careful.”
“I will, but how’s a man to know what a woman’s like? Every society woman in Boston has trotted in front of me for years, and finally when I did say yes, look what I would have gotten.”
Elizabeth wanted to say a great deal, but she simply put her hand on her brother’s cheek and said quietly, “The next time, look closer to home for a wife.”
“What? What does that mean?” Will asked in a puzzled voice.
“You will figure it out, Will. Remember, look closer to home, and you’ll find a wife.” Elizabeth said no more, and Will stared at her with a strange look.
Later that night Elizabeth said, “Will’s going to fall in love, Patrick.”
“I assume so—but when? And with whom?”
Elizabeth smiled mysteriously, then said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you!”
Chapter Fifteen
A Mended Heart
Will Martin was sitting in his father’s chair in the library with a book propped before him. He had been staring blindly at the printed pages for an hour without turning a single page. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, and time and again he would shake his shoulders together, grit his teeth, and force himself to follow the lines on the page. A week had passed since the traumatic experience of losing the woman who was to be his wife, and Will had not endured it well. His life until this point had been easy and without great strife, but the pain of what had occurred had made a deeper impact on him than most of the family realized—perhaps because he was not outwardly emotional as a rule, and he kept a wall between himself and the rest of the world.
But even now as the birds sang outside the library window, and he heard the voices of two of the servants laughing and joking as they cut the grass, he was going over and over in his mind how badly he had failed as a man. What’s wrong with me? he thought in agony. Don’t I have any sense at all? Couldn’t I see what kind of a woman she was? Of course, I knew she was domineering . . . but who could’ve known she was absolutely wicked?
He shifted in the chair, fixed his eyes on the page, and tried to read again, but his mind drifted away. And poor Patrick! I can’t understand why he doesn’t hate me. We’ve been friends for years, and without giving him a chance, I jumped on him with all the rest. Shame flooded over him, and he suddenly threw the book down, shoving it away. Putting his head on the desk, he shut his eyes, trying to forget the past. But it would not go away—every scene and every word came trooping before him, especially that which he had done to Patrick. A slight sound attracted his attention, and he looked up to see Rebekah, who had stepped inside the door.
She gave him a startled glance and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Will!” then turned to go.
“No, don’t go, Rebekah!” Will straightened up in the chair and passed his hand in front of his face. Making an effort he said, “Come in. I won’t be in your way.”
Rebekah hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside and said quietly, “I just came to straighten up a little bit.”
Will looked at her for a moment and said, “Rebekah, I’ve got to talk to someone. Shut the door, will you, please?”
“Why, of course, Mr. Will.” Closing the door, she came across the room and stood before the desk. “What is it, sir?”
“Oh, Rebekah, forget sir and Mr. Will. We’ve known each other for years.” Will suddenly slammed the desk with his fist in an unusual show of anger. His mouth twisted and he said, “Rebekah, do you despise me?”
Startled at his sudden outburst, Rebekah’s eyes flew open. She had lovely eyes that were wide-spaced and almost an emerald green. “Why . . . why in the world would you say a thing like that?” She could not bring herself to call the man by his first name. Servanthood was too deeply ingrained in her. She saw, however, that he was profoundly disturbed, and she knew what was on his mind. For the past week she had watched him, and because she cared for him, she understood the agony of his spirit. She longed to go to him and take his hand and comfort him, but she dared not do that. However, she knew she had to make some effort to ease his suffering. Quietly she said, “We all make mistakes, Mr. Will. Every one of us. I’ve made about a thousand, I guess. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my fault!” he said. “I should’ve known better!”
“She’s a very lovely woman.”
“I’m not talking about her!” Will said, shaking his head almost violently. “Oh, I was stupid about Charlotte. I knew she was too bossy, but I don’t know any way a man can look inside a person’s heart and see evil when it’s there.” A sudden thought came to him and he said, “What did you think of her? Before all this happened, I mean.”
“Oh, I don’t like to say,” Rebekah protested.
“No, you wouldn’t. You never say anything bad about anybody, do you, Rebekah?” He realized suddenly that he had known this girl for years, but her quietness and shyness had never allowed him past the gentle exterior. Aside from the fact that he knew her grandmother, he knew little about her. Suddenly he grew curious. “You never say anything about yourself. Not to me, I mean.”
Rebekah did not know how to answer. She glanced down at the floor, unable to meet his intense gaze, and then she looked up and smiled. “It’s not for servants to tell the young master of the house about themselves.”
“Well, you can tell this young master.” He suddenly said, “What about your suitors? I don’t know anything about that. Are you seeing any young men?”
“No, sir, not really.”
“Well, are they all blind around here? A pretty girl like you?” He smiled, saying, “I’ll have to see about that. Maybe I’ll become
your marriage broker.”
“Oh no, sir! You mustn’t do that!”
“Oh, I was only joking, Rebekah. You don’t need a marriage broker. Not with those beautiful eyes of yours.” He saw that he was embarrassing her, and he got up from his chair. “I’m sorry. I don’t seem to know how to talk to anybody. I’m just a bumbling fool!” He stood beside her and shook his head. “I can’t get over it—what I did to Patrick. I must’ve been crazy and blind at the same time.”
“He doesn’t hold it against you, sir.”
“Will you stop calling me sir! You make me feel like I’m a thousand years old!”
“Why, I have to call you sir. That’s the way it is in a big house. You wouldn’t like it if James the gardener didn’t call you sir.”
“You’re not James the gardener. Right now I don’t care what James would call me. If he called me an idiot, he’d be just about right.”
Suddenly Rebekah felt she knew what to say, and a strange comfort came to her, and an ease that she had never felt in Will Martin’s presence. “You know,” she said, “it’s much easier to forgive others than it is to forgive ourselves. But when God forgives our sins, we mustn’t go back and dig them up again.”
“What do you mean by that, Rebekah?”
“I mean when we’re Christians, if we sin against God, the Bible says if we confess our sins, He’s faithful and just to forgive us our sins. And He cleanses us from all unrighteousness. Say we tell a lie, and we go to God and say, ‘God, I lied. Forgive me.’ Then we go back again the next day and say, ‘Oh, God, forgive me for that lie.’” She smiled and two dimples appeared in her cheeks. “I think God would say, ‘What lie?’”
The charm of the girl took Will Martin, and he had to smile. “You mean we shouldn’t keep on asking for forgiveness once we’ve received it?”
“I think it would be an insult to God. I mean, if I had done something wrong to you and you forgave me, and I came back the next day and asked you again, and then the day after that . . . don’t you see? It would hurt your feelings. Sooner or later you would say, ‘Don’t you believe me? I’ve already forgiven you!’”
Over the Misty Mountains Page 18
