The Courageous Brides Collection

by Johnnie Alexander, Michelle Griep, Eileen Key, Debby Lee, Rose Allen McCauley, Donita Kathleen Paul, Jennifer Uhlarik, Jenness Walker, Renee Yancy

  “Or what?”

  “Or send you packing. You have a week from today to decide. They plan to let her come home next Wednesday, but if you try to see her, I’ll have to let you go. I could line up an apprenticeship with some other doctors I know from medical school.”

  “But they wouldn’t be around here, and I want to see where my relationship with Elinor leads us. This isn’t fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair—another lesson you’ll have to learn.”

  “May I at least write her about this so she’ll know?”

  Doc scrubbed his hand along his jaw. “They didn’t mention writing, so as long as you don’t do it after next Wednesday, I won’t be breaking my word. Think about it and pray, and let me know your decision next Wednesday.”

  William stared at his mentor. “May I take a couple of hours to go walk and mull things over?”

  “Certainly. Please give it some consideration. I would hate to lose you. You’ve been an excellent student and assistant.”

  “Thank you.” William left, his heart pounding against the injustice of this whole situation. How could he choose between getting to know Elinor better and fulfilling his dream to become a doctor?

  He shouldn’t have to choose. What would she want him to do? He knew her kind heart would want him to learn to save lives. But at the expense of their chance to get to know each other better? He hoped she wouldn’t want that any more than he did. God, how can I choose when giving up either one may keep me from becoming all you want me to be and do? You have a purpose for me. Please show me in an unmistakable way how to proceed.

  He had reached the outskirts of town, so he kept walking. He slowed his steps and his mind, listening for God’s voice but heard nothing. He headed back to the office.

  Finding Doc still there, William sat at the table, his head resting against his hands. “I prayed but still don’t know what to do. You’ve been very kind to me, and I’ll tell you my answer when I decide. Unless you need me, I’m going to write another letter to Elinor about this, so she’ll understand if I don’t visit when she returns.”

  The doc patted his shoulder. “You do what you think best. I’ll let you know if I need your assistance.”

  William entered his small bedroom with dread instead of the usual anticipation of writing to Elinor. How can I explain this to her without making her angry at me or her parents? Or both?

  Elinor awakened early and didn’t hear a sound in the house, so she sat down at her desk to pen a letter to William. She wished she would hear from him soon, as she debated if he would think her too forward if she kept writing before receiving a letter from him. He didn’t strike her as someone who cared what society thought—one of the things that drew her to him. That, and his amazing green eyes, which took her breath away when they stared into hers. Stop torturing yourself with his eyes and write the letter.

  She finished then tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen, surprised to find the maid. “Betsy, have you spoken to Aunt Charlotte this morning?”

  Betsy nodded, making her cap bounce up and down. “Yes, miss. I went to her room when I arrived, since she asked me last night to come early. She told me to go on and fix you some breakfast, and she’ll be down later.”

  “I hope she’s all right.”

  “She has these headaches once or twice a month but is always fine as long as she gets enough rest the next day.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Keep quiet so we don’t disturb her. I’ll make a pot of tea around lunchtime, and you can take it up. She’s usually better by then.” Betsy turned to the stove. “Your porridge is almost done, so go sit down, and I’ll bring it to you in a few minutes. Would you like some toast and jam, too?”

  “Yes, please.” Still troubled about her dear aunt, Elinor sat at the table and prayed for her healing.

  Betsy entered carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming porridge, toast, and some of Aunt Charlotte’s strawberry jam. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “This looks good, thank you.”

  Betsy left Elinor alone with her worries. Aunt Charlotte had once taught her “turn your worries into prayers,” so Elinor prayed—for her aunt’s healing, for a change of heart in her parents, for God to show her what He had waiting for her when she returned home. Next, she added thanks for the food Betsy had prepared, and then she slathered on some jam and bit into her toast. Delicious.

  The library drew Elinor down the hallway. She perused the shelves until she found her favorite novel by Cooper—The Last of the Mohicans. She’d read it countless times and always marveled at the courage of the two daughters who set out to join their father during the French and Indian War. How could she ever become that courageous if her parents seldom let her out of the house except to walk to town or go to church?

  She settled into the window seat and began to read the familiar story, soon caught up in the action and the romances of Cora and Uncas as well as Alice and Heyward.

  At the sound of footsteps approaching, Elinor stood and stretched. Betsy entered the library, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. “Would you like to take this to Mrs. Bratcher?”

  “Of course, what time is it?”

  “Almost eleven. When you’re finished visiting with her, come back down, and I’ll make you some biscuits with ham and cheese.”

  “Lovely.” Her stomach growled. How could I get so hungry just reading a book? She took her time climbing the steps so as not to spill any of the tea. After a knock, she entered at her aunt’s cheery voice calling, “Come in.”

  “How are you this morning, Aunt Charlotte?” Elinor set the tray down on the table beside the bed. “I’ve been praying for you.”

  Her aunt smiled. “I’m much better than last night. Thank you for the prayers.”

  “Would you like me to come back later so you can eat in peace?”

  “I don’t want to miss a bit of our time together, so please stay.” She patted the side of the bed. “What did you find to do all by yourself? Read?”

  Elinor eased down beside her aunt. “You know me well. Cooper’s Mohican tale.”

  “A tragic love story.”

  “Yes, but I always skim over that part, because I know I’ll cry.”

  Aunt Charlotte smiled. “You are like me in so many ways. Your mother and I never had much in common, but I’ve always felt a closeness to you.”

  “And I to you.” Elinor’s eyes misted.

  “Now, go downstairs and eat some food, while I do the same. Then we’ll walk to Colonel Marshall’s house. His daughter Elizabeth is just a little older than you and has a visitor from Cincinnati who is in her twenties. I thought you would enjoy their company.”

  “It sounds nice, but I don’t want to tire you out and make your headache return.”

  “Don’t argue with your elders, Elinor.” A twinkle in her aunt’s eyes told her the comment was in jest. “I feel fit as a fiddle and want to get out of this house. Please ask Betsy to come help me dress after she feeds you.”

  “All right. If you insist, but we must come home if your headache returns.”

  “Agreed, now what are you waiting for?” She shooed Elinor toward the door.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elinor found Betsy in the dining room with a plate of biscuits and meat and cheese. “This smells as good as it looks, Betsy. Aunt Charlotte would like you to help her dress to go out now.”

  Betsy crossed her arms. “I’ll check to see how she’s feeling before I get her dressed.”

  “Please do, as I don’t want her to go if it makes her worse.”

  The maid returned as Elinor finished her lunch. “How is my aunt?”

  “Seems to be better, and she’s almost ready to go. You’d best get ready, too.”

  Elinor arose and went to her room to redo her hair then waited to escort her aunt down the steps.

  Betsy stood by the front door with a thin shawl for each of them. They wrapped them around their shoulders, ne
cks, and hands to ward off any freckles.

  “Your servant takes very good care of you. I can tell you mean a lot to her.”

  “As she does to me. Her mother took care of me and my husband before he died, and I couldn’t have gone through that without her.”

  Elinor squeezed her aunt’s arm. “I was so sorry to hear about Uncle Jackson. He always winked at me and had puzzles for me to solve.”

  Aunt Charlotte cleared her throat. “Yes, he was a special man, and I’m grateful for the years I had with him.” She stopped in front of a brick house.

  They climbed the steps, and Elinor knocked.

  A servant opened the door wide and took their shawls. “Miss Key and Miss Beecher are sitting in the parlor.” She led the way to a room similar to the one in Elinor’s home.

  The younger lady stood. “Mrs. Bratcher, I am so happy you and your niece could visit us today. May I present Miss Harriet Beecher, my teacher and friend.” She opened her hand toward a short woman.

  Miss Beecher nodded. “I am glad to finally meet the Mrs. Bratcher I have heard so much about from Elizabeth.”

  “And I am pleased to meet you and also to introduce you to my niece, Miss Elinor Peck.”

  “Please be seated.” Elizabeth motioned toward a settee. “Polly will bring us some tea and cookies in a few minutes. Please tell me how the abolitionist meeting went yesterday, as I stayed home, awaiting Miss Beecher’s arrival.”

  Elinor and her aunt went back and forth with details of the meeting. Aunt Charlotte told them of the book Elinor had read written by a slave.

  Miss Beecher nodded. “Yes, I’ve also read it and was amazed at how the Wheatleys treated Phillis like a member of their family. So unlike the treatment of the slaves I witnessed at the auction yesterday on our trip through Washingon.” She shuddered. “Children were torn away from their mothers with sobs and screams. I had to force myself not to turn my head. Someone must do something about the inhumane treatment of the slaves.”

  Tears welled in Elinor’s eyes at the idea of someone treating Shug and her parents that way.

  Aunt Charlotte nodded. “I agree, and so do most of the women at our abolitionist meetings. Some think we need to advocate for women’s rights, too.”

  Elinor proudly supported her aunt. “Most agreed our country would be a better place if women could vote.”

  “I agree,” Elizabeth chimed in.

  “I told my niece I doubt it will happen in my lifetime, but I hope it will occur in hers.”

  The conversation ceased as the servant girl entered with the tea tray. Elizabeth passed around the cookies then poured tea for each of them.

  Miss Beecher’s eyes searched Elinor’s. “Do your parents share your views, Miss Peck?”

  “We’ve never discussed it. We own three slaves, and my father treats them very well.”

  “Don’t you see the incongruence of what you just said?”

  Elinor blinked. “Pardon me?”

  “Would you think it humane if someone owned you even though they treated you well?”

  “I can’t imagine how I would feel.”

  “That’s part of the problem. Too many of us can’t or won’t imagine what the slaves experience each day. Until we understand what it means to be a slave, we won’t be bold enough to do much except talk about it.”

  “I want to do more than talk about it. My slave is my best friend, and I plan to set her free once I’m married and can do as I wish.”

  Miss Beecher quirked an eyebrow. “And what if your husband doesn’t allow you to do that?”

  “I wouldn’t marry anyone who would tell me what I could or couldn’t do.” Elinor sat up straighter.

  Her aunt sighed. “Sometimes we don’t know what our husbands will allow until it’s too late. My Jackson was a good man, an abolitionist himself, but he was afraid to let me join. So I waited a year after he died out of respect for him, then joined.”

  Elizabeth asked, “What have you seen of Washington, Miss Peck?”

  Elinor recognized her hostess was changing the subject. Her own mother had done it many times around the dinner table. “I only arrived Monday late. Then we attended the meeting yesterday. We stopped by a dress establishment on our way home, but I couldn’t bear to think about shopping with everything about the abolitionist movement so fresh on my mind.”

  “Very admirable.” Miss Beecher nodded.

  The four ladies continued to converse of less controversial matters until Elinor noticed her aunt rubbing her temples. She stood, explaining about Aunt Charlotte’s need to rest to get over a headache. “I hope to get to talk with you both again before I leave.”

  Miss Key arose and called for a servant to accompany them. “Please come back tomorrow, Miss Peck, as Miss Beecher has to leave on Friday morning.”

  Elinor accepted.

  On their walk home, her brain whirled with all the new ideas buzzing around in her head. Could she make a difference in the slaves’ lives? I must do something.

  Chapter Five

  Thursday, the sun peeking in her window awakened Elinor. She tiptoed down the stairs, eager to visit Miss Beecher and Miss Key again but hoping not to disturb Aunt Charlotte.

  Betsy greeted her. “Would you like oatmeal and toast, or eggs and bacon?”

  “Would eggs, bacon, and toast be too much trouble?”

  “Of course not. Sit down, and I’ll have them ready soon.”

  “First, I’d like to hear how my aunt feels this morning.”

  “She says she’s better but wants you to go visit your new friends without her today. Her plan is to be up by dinner, so she told me to fix you an early lunch. Then you can stay over at the Key house as long as you’d like.”

  Elinor sat in the lonely dining room, which wasn’t much fun without her aunt. She loved her parents dearly but often didn’t understand them. Did most young people feel that way?

  Betsy brought in her breakfast with the ever-present jar of strawberry jam. “Thank you, Betsy. Did you help make this jam?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “My aunt and I plan to make some before I leave if we have time.”

  After breakfast, another Cooper novel swept Elinor away in time and place. Wrapped up in eighteenth-century America, she startled at a hand on her shoulder.

  “Your lunch is ready, miss.”

  “Thank you.” She followed Betsy down the hall to the dining room, where an appetizing plate of cheese and fruit awaited her.

  “Would you like some milk to drink?”

  “Yes, please. And won’t you sit and eat with me?”

  “Sorry, I have to do the dishes.”

  Elinor ate quickly, musing how the second-worst part of her punishment was eating by herself. The worst was her separation from William just as they were getting to know each other.

  She carried her plate into the kitchen. “Is Aunt Charlotte awake yet?”

  Betsy took the plate and added it to the dishwater. “No. I left a bell upstairs so she could ring when she felt like eating something, but I haven’t heard it yet.”

  “I’ll be on my way to the Keys’ house, then. What time is dinner?”

  “In the summer months, it’s six.”

  “I’ll return by then. Thank you for taking such good care of me and my aunt, Betsy.”

  The girl blushed. “You’re welcome. You’re as easy to care for as Mrs. Bratcher.”

  “Thank you for the compliment.” She grabbed her shawl on the way out.

  The trip to the Key house was short, as both dwellings sat on the main street of Washington. Elinor liked not having a chaperone in this small town. She slowed her pace to enjoy her freedom then sped up thinking about all she wanted to discuss this afternoon. She stopped by the post office and thrilled at receiving a letter.

  Exiting, she held the thin envelope in shaky hands. The handwriting told her it wasn’t from her parents. The Key house was near, so she stuffed the letter in her pocket and continued on her journey. Her heart
beat loudly in anticipation of reading the letter after her visit.

  A servant answered her knock and escorted her into the parlor where her two new friends sat doing needlework.

  Miss Key stood and approached her. “We are so happy you could return. Since we’re almost the same age, please call me Elizabeth.”

  “If you will call me Elinor.”

  “Of course.”

  Miss Beecher smiled. “Please call me Harriet.”

  The young women asked about Aunt Charlotte and then spoke of the weather and needlework, until Elinor could wait no longer to ask her question. “How could I find an abolitionist group near me? I’ve never heard of one in Cynthiana.”

  Harriet nodded. “Elizabeth, could you find me a pencil and some paper? I’d like to get Elinor’s address to send her what I can find out about groups in her area.”

  “Certainly.” Elizabeth returned with two sheets of paper and handed them and a pencil to Elinor. “Please put your address on both papers, so we can stay in touch, too.”

  “Thank you. I would love to correspond with you both.” She wrote the information then handed each woman a copy.

  After an enlightening afternoon discussing many topics, Elinor left around five, happy to have found some ladies who understood her. If only she could find like-minded women in Cynthiana. An image of William came to mind. She was sure he would understand. Touching the letter in her pocket, she continued to her aunt’s house.

  Betsy answered her knock. “Miss Bratcher is still abed but wanted to see you upon your return.”

  “Of course.” Elinor climbed the stairs. Her letter would have to wait.

  She knocked, and a soft voice answered. “Come in.”

  “How are you today, Aunt Charlotte?” She grasped her aunt’s frail hand.

  “Much better. I plan to eat with you tonight but thought it best to rest as long as possible. I am sorry my maladies have dampened our time together on your short visit.”