Reforming Elizabeth

by Lorin Grace

  “Aunt Mina said to come down for … I wanted lethers.” Elizabeth gestured to several crumpled papers at the corner of the table. Gideon raised his brows when he saw his name on one.

  “She fell before—I should have—” Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears again.

  Gideon wanted to reassure her it wasn’t her fault. There was no guarantee Mina wouldn’t have fallen if she had been closer. Of course, Mina shouldn’t have been upstairs either. Not wanting to lie, he reached across the table and took her hand. He turned it palm up and examined the damage. None of the scrapes was deep. Elizabeth pulled her hand back.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come faster.” He swallowed to clear the growing lump in his throat.

  Elizabeth shook her head and reached for the papers. She pulled one out and scanned it, then folded the paper three times before handing it to him. “Later, please.”

  Gideon tucked the letter inside his shirt pocket.

  The door to Mina’s room opened, and Doctor Whiting stepped out. They turned their attention toward him. “Mrs. Richards will mend faster if you can keep her resting for a few days. I have told her before to not go upstairs and to use her cane when walking.” The doctor shook his head. He must have also known Mina was unlikely to listen to any advice. “She is going to have a good lump on her head. If you have any ice, it will help. Her ankle is also swollen. I’ll check on it again to be sure it isn’t broken.”

  Gideon spoke up. “I can get some from the Miller’s ice house.”

  “Better bring some for Miss—”

  “Gareth.” Elizabeth’s face reddened.

  “Garrett,” Gideon supplied.

  “Yes. An application to Miss Garrett’s jaw would be helpful.” Doctor Whiting turned his full attention to Elizabeth. “Your aunt is quite insistent I look at you, too. She said there are several splinters in your back needing to be removed.”

  Elizabeth and the doctor stared at Gideon.

  Doctor Whiting raised his brows. “Perhaps now would be a good time to go fetch some ice while I tend to Miss Garrett.”

  Gideon looked from one to the other, his face warming. A memory of the scratches he’d seen as he’d followed her down the street filled his mind. “I’ll be back soon.” He jammed his hat on his head and hurried out the door.

  Elizabeth gave a little start as the door slammed.

  The doctor went over to the door and latched it.

  “I don’t think Mr. Frost needs to walk in on us. Can you sit here with your back to the fire? It will give me the best light.”

  Elizabeth took a seat on the bench Doctor Whiting indicated. The doctor moved behind her, adjusting the location of the lamp. “If you can lower the dress over your shoulders.” The doctor searched through his bag.

  “Perfect.” He reached over Elizabeth’s shoulder to show her the little tweezers. “These should take care of those little splinters in no time.”

  The doctor talked nonstop as he removed five splinters. Elizabeth found the chatter soothing, especially when she needed to loosen her shift so he could reach the lowest one.

  “There you go. All done.”

  Elizabeth recognized the smell of witch hazel as Doctor Whiting smoothed some on her back.

  “Put yourself back together, and I’ll take a look at your face.” The doctor walked to the dry sink and made a point of wiping his hands while Elizabeth buttoned her dress.

  “I’m ready.”

  The doctor turned to face her, then came over and sat on the bench with her. He adjusted the lamp and lifted her chin. “Open your mouth.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth as far as she could, but it wasn’t wide enough to let her tongue slip past her teeth.

  “Any farther?”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “Sorry, this might hurt.” Doctor Whiting stuck his finger in her mouth and pushed at her teeth.

  Elizabeth felt two on the left move ever so slightly. The doctor pulled his finger out.

  “A couple of them are loose. Eat soft foods for a day or two and none of Mina’s taffy for at least two weeks. Does she still drink chocolate every morning?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Tea?

  “Never.”

  “Of course not. Too British for her. Have her share some with you. The milk and chocolate will be good for—” A knock on the back door interrupted the doctor. “Good, the ice.”

  Elizabeth heard the murmurs of conversation between the men at the door.

  The doctor set the pail on the table.

  “Wrap some of this in a cloth and hold it to your face.”

  Elizabeth grabbed a towel from a hook near the dry sink and did as he’d directed. Doctor Whiting took another towel and wrapped some more ice in it and beckoned Elizabeth to follow him into her aunt’s room.

  Mina stirred only slightly in her laudanum-induced sleep as the doctor held the ice to the back of her head. “Take my place,” he said, motioning to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth did as asked. “The pillow will keep your aunt’s ice in place. If she moves, try to get her back on it. When your ice starts to drip and melt, it will be time to remove both of your ice packets. Put the unmelted ice in the pail outside the back door. Ice before bed, then again first thing in the morning. I am leaving some laudanum for your aunt. A half spoonful should help her sleep.”

  The doctor studied Elizabeth for a few moments. Elizabeth squirmed under his gaze. “I’ll check on your aunt tomorrow. Keep the ice on your face as long as you can.”

  Elizabeth heard the back door shut a few moments later.

  “Oh, Aunt Mina. What have I done?”

  Doctor Whiting walked around his carriage. “I left the ice on the porch where the young lady can reach it. There should be enough for her to use tonight and in the morning. I’ll check on them both tomorrow.” The doctor set his bag on his seat, then took a step closer to Gideon. “The niece, Miss Garrett—do you know what happened to her?”

  Gideon nodded.

  “Was she raped?”

  “Nearly.” Reluctant to divulge too much, he kept his answer brief.

  “Not by you, I assume.”

  “Never.”

  Doctor Whiting studied Gideon for a moment. “You are employed by Mrs. Richards?”

  “Half days.”

  “Make an excuse to be here as much as you can for the next day or two. Miss Garrett isn’t fit to be a nurse at the moment. I would prefer she rest as much as she can.” With that, Doctor Whiting swung up onto his seat and told his horse it was time to go home.

  Rubbing his hand down his face, Gideon watched the carriage disappear into the night. He would bunk in the barn for the night. Since he had no desire to face Reverend Porter again today, the barn seemed quite reasonable. Though a quilt would be nice.

  He heard the door open and ice plunking into the bucket.

  “Elizabeth?” Gideon hurried out of the barn.

  “Gide—Mr. Frost?” She’d reverted to proper names. Now was probably not the best time to remind her they were friends.

  Gideon stopped a few yards from the house where the rectangle of light from the door spilled out. “The doctor asked me to stay close, so I will be in the barn if you need me.”

  Elizabeth’s shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, and she took a deep breath. “People will talk.”

  “Once they learn of Mina’s accident they won’t.” Gideon could not see Elizabeth’s face with the light behind her, but he thought she nodded.

  Elizabeth turned back into the house.

  “May I borrow a quilt?” He did not receive an answer, but Elizabeth left the door open as she disappeared into the house.

  He heard the steps creak as she rushed up the stairs. In a moment,
she appeared in the doorway with two quilts in her arms.

  Gideon’s fingers brushed hers as he took them from her, and something old and familiar tingled around his heart at the contact. Gideon thrust the feeling out as fast as a burned biscuit. He barely registered the whispered “Good night” as the door shut.

  Over the years, the Richards must have hired more than a few hands. At one point, someone added a lean-to on the back of the barn. Furnished with a narrow cot and a table that showed signs of multiple repairs, the tiny room suited his needs as long as he remembered to duck each morning so as to not hit his head on the sloped roof.

  As he pulled off his coat, he heard the rustle of paper.

  Elizabeth’s letter.

  He unfolded it, surprised to find her usual tidy script somewhat blotchy and illegible. He turned up the lamp to see it better.

  Mr. Frost,

  Please accept my sincerest gratitude for the help you rendered me in the churchyard. The words you spoke after were true, and I deserved a much sterner lecture and punishment. My father sent me here so I might be reformed or, as he says, retrenched. I am afraid I have proved my failure at that.

  I knew this morning that I was slipping back into unwise behavior. I did it because I It doesn’t matter why I wore my red dress. I knew better. Father said I would reach a bad end, and at least this time I have you to thank for my narrow escape.

  I am sorry if I have damaged your reputation. I know I can no longer count you among my friends because a minister’s reputation must be without stain and my friendship will surely stain it. You shall not have to bear my presence long as after I tell my father of today’s events and my shameful behavior, I have little doubt he will take me away from here and try yet another way to mend my ways. He has threatened more than once to marry me to the next man who will take me west to Ohio or farther. Perhaps it would be best for everyone.

  I am loath to leave Aunt Mina. She has taught me so much.

  Will you continue to watch over her? I worry about her being alone. Yet another consequence of my behavior.

  I shudde Thank you again for your assistance today.

  You are a good man. I hope you find what you are missing.

  Respectfully,

  Miss Elizabeth Garrett

  Gideon read the letter twice. Was she truly remorseful, or was it another act? From the stricken expression she’d worn all evening, he leaned toward genuine remorse. The fact she intended to tell her father of her actions rather than letting another carry the tale showed she had matured from the girl who first arrived here.

  Gideon turned down the lamp and knelt to petition the Almighty. The final plea was for Mr. Garrett to be given wisdom and for an extra dose of wisdom for himself.

  What did she think he was missing?

  Seventeen

  Elizabeth smoothed Aunt Mina’s quilt and tucked a lavender sachet under the pillow. She’d spent the last quarter hour dusting and straightening the room. Voices drifted through the open window.

  One of the voices rose. Doctor Whiting wasn’t pleased to find his cantankerous patient on the porch. Hoping to deflect some of his ire, Elizabeth hurried to the door. “Doctor Whiting, we didn’t expect you this morning.”

  “Obviously not.” The doctor glared at Mina.

  The click of Aunt Mina’s knitting needles was his only answer.

  Elizabeth looked from one to the other. “Shall I go fetch Gideon to return my aunt to the house?”

  Doctor Whiting shook his head. “No need, as long as she stays off her foot, she is welcome to sit where she pleases.”

  “Elizabeth, offer Doctor Whiting some of the cake you made this morning. Doctor, you may as well pull up a seat after traveling this far.” Mina nodded to a chair and continued her knitting.

  Elizabeth came back out of the house carrying a tray with diluted cider and two small plates of cake. She set them on the crate Gideon had rigged earlier as a table.

  “Miss Garrett, join us. I told your aunt I expected her to stay off her foot for at least another three or four weeks. She shouldn’t be gallivanting around the house.”

  Mina sputtered.” I have not gallivanted anywhere in quite some time, Doctor.”

  Elizabeth shifted her weight from one foot to another. “I have been very careful to help her. Mr. Frost carried her out here before he left on his visits. He said he would be back within the hour.”

  The doctor harrumphed. “Are you any better following my orders than your aunt?

  Elizabeth looked at her hands. Doctor Whiting followed her gaze. “Well, they at least do look better, and your speech is much clearer. I suspect all you need now is a little more time for the bruising to disappear.” He stood and stepped toward Elizabeth. He tilted her head to the sunlight. “I am afraid, however, you shall have a small scar.”

  Elizabeth raised her hand to her cheek. Having a scar on her face was not the worst thing that could happen. The scars on her reputation were much deeper. More than one neighbor had ignored Elizabeth when coming to visit with Aunt Mina and check on her. The sin of wearing the crimson gown to church was apparently unforgivable.

  Being ignored became preferable to the lecture she received from one matron, who put the blame for Mr. Butler’s actions squarely on Elizabeth’s shoulders. Somehow the event, like all events in the community, became common knowledge. Aunt Mina told Elizabeth to ignore the lecture. But the words still echoed through Elizabeth’s nightmares. She shook them off to focus on what the doctor was saying.

  “If it does not hurt your teeth or jaw, you may resume eating regular foods. I suggest you start with this cake. It is delicious.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mina looked up. “Go have a piece of cake now. I would like to consult with Doctor Whiting.”

  Doctor Whiting flagged Gideon down on High Street. “I’m not sure I liked finding Mrs. Richards on her front porch. But as long as you’re willing to move her back and forth so she’s not walking, I will allow it. Heaven knows her little wisp of a niece can’t lift her.”

  “No, but Mina is shorter. I think they manage a bit of mobility without me.” Gideon smiled at the doctor’s frown.

  “I need to ask your opinion on something. Mrs. Richards is of the opinion her niece may have been hurt more than she has let on. I understand from local gossip you were the one who interrupted Mr. Butler’s advances. I must ask you again—are you sure she was not violated?”

  Gideon closed his eyes, and the picture of Mr. Butler standing over the prone body of Elizabeth, his leg poised to kick her side, filled his mind. “I am sure. When I happened upon them, Mr. Butler was enraged. He seemed to be bent on beating her senseless. The top of her dress was torn, but her stays and shift were not. I would have expected more damage to her clothing, if—”

  The doctor’s brow furrowed. “Do you think Miss Garrett is acting peculiarly?”

  “She has been quiet this week, but her facial injuries could account for that.” She also takes great pains not to look me in the face. “I assume that also accounts for her not smiling as much.”

  “I told Mrs. Richards not to worry, but do keep an eye on the girl. Some women who have been violated fall into melancholy and have been known to take their own lives.”

  Gideon nodded.

  The doctor flicked his reins and continued down the path.

  Gideon suspected some of Elizabeth’s worry originated from the letter she’d given him to post to her father last Monday morning. It lay safely tucked under the mattress in the barn’s lean-to. The thickness of the missive made him question the amount of detail the letter contained—too much, by his guess. The way Elizabeth jumped to attention every time a carriage rolled past the house was a clear indication of its contents.

  Knowing Mina’s weekly Monday letter remaine
d unwritten, he posted a short note of his own, focusing on Mina’s fall and the excellent care Elizabeth provided. Mina sent a report yesterday. Before sending him to the post, she’d discussed her omission of Sunday morning with Gideon. Afraid Mr. Garrett would waste no time in retrieving Elizabeth and make matters worse, she saw no reason for her nephew to know too many details.

  Gideon did not tell Mina of Elizabeth’s hidden missive. It was the only thing he’d ever stolen in his life. In a week or two, when Mina felt better, and Elizabeth calmed, he would confess, and a new letter could be written.

  Gideon made the right choice when he encouraged Elizabeth to remain home with Mina. As predicted, the sermon focused on the virtue of women. Most of the congregants had managed to sneak a peek around the room, no doubt searching for the focal point of the minister’s words.

  Three rows back on the men’s side, Mr. Butler listened to the pointed sermon, a smug smile on his lips. The idea of marching over to his pew and wiping the supercilious smirk off Butler’s face with his fist crossed Gideon’s mind more than once. There would be no sermon aimed at the man who’d donated enough money to complete the church building. Gideon added the inequity to his list of reasons to leave the ministry. Should a woman who dressed somewhat inappropriately for church be judged more harshly than the wealthy man who’d attacked her? If the situation were reversed and Elizabeth’s attacker been one of the poor farmhands, would the sermon been the same? Or was it only the threat of losing the donation that excused Butler?

  Gideon ground his teeth. Thus far he’d ignored the reverend’s request to apologize for hitting Butler. He’d fought to defend a lady, not just engaged in a round of fisticuffs because he didn’t like the arrogant man, a man with a history of ruining the reputations and lives of young women. However, since most of the girls were servants and had no recourse, they too took the blame. Was this really what the Bible taught? So far he had found no justification.