by Lorin Grace
She had not felt this heavyhearted leaving her home last January. Perhaps it was her concern for Aunt Mina that made the pain in her heart expand until it filled her chest. Gideon might come for her before the week was out, but with a church trial, their intentions could be challenged and dismissed. Or he might not come, fearing her father would force an immediate marriage and he did not want her. She would pray Gideon would come, but she’d better not plan on it. If she were truthful, the lump in her throat that now threatened to strangle her was for Gideon’s sake.
Fields and towns came and went, each town larger than the last until they reached Boston. Since her father had made no attempt to address her, she had not broken the silence. Elizabeth sat back in the carriage, not wanting to be gawked at. Still wearing her stained work dress and apron, she drew stares sitting next to her very well-dressed father. No one would ever believe her to be his daughter, especially if they saw her calloused, ungloved hands.
The new pale-blue muslin she’d intended to change into lay across her bed at Aunt Mina’s. Perhaps her aunt would send it to her. She’d worked several nights to make the dress based on a fashion plate she’d seen at the milliner’s. The straighter skirt needed fewer petticoats than the round gowns most women wore. The neckline lay a mere inch below the collarbone, and she’d embroidered the white bodice with pale-blue flowers. The higher waistline felt odd the first time she’d put it on, but it was surprisingly easy to move about in. When she found the money, one of the new style corsets would be purchased. She’d debated about making new petticoats and finally settled on modifying one of her sets to a narrower silhouette. The gown would not have been practical for the two-day carriage ride home, the fabric being muslin. In the next two weeks, she could sew another.
Even if Aunt Mina sent the new gown, Elizabeth didn’t have the heart to wear it. Too much of the time she’d spent stitching the creation, she’d also entertained daydreams her heart knew could never be.
They passed through a street of dress shops she’d often frequented with her mother. While several of the windows featured the round gowns, only three displayed a dress like her creation. She sighed. Though she’d copied a recent Parisian fashion plate, it certainly was not the height of Boston fashion, yet. She was probably better off making more utilitarian wear anyway. Aunt Mina could sell the dress.
The gray-stone church and a long stone building next to it reminded her of Gideon’s description of the seminary he attended. She searched the windows. A shadow moved behind a window. There was no way to know for certain, but Elizabeth raised her hand and bid the figure a silent farewell.
When dusk came, her father stopped at an inn that appeared to be no worse than a half dozen of the others they’d passed. The bed was far from comfortable, but at least she had a room to herself. The tears she’d hidden from her father poured out until she was empty.
Gideon watched people pass on the street below the window. It was too soon for anyone to answer his missives. A buggy with a woman in a gray dress as ugly as Elizabeth’s soiled work one rolled past. The male driver seemed finely dressed. Could it be? He pressed closer to the window for a better view. The woman raised an ungloved hand and turned to look at the building.
Lizzy.
Why did his heart race so? There was no use going to the door and racing down the stairs. Old Norton had locked it after bringing his dinner more than two hours ago.
A wish. Nothing more. He had just wished her near. Though he knew her a changed woman, Elizabeth would never have ridden through East Stoughton, and definitely not through Boston, in a soiled dress. More than likely, she was stomping her foot someplace and cursing that he had not returned as scheduled. After all, it was nearing time for the evening chores, and the cow still gave Lizzy fits.
Gideon sat alone on the rostrum of the dining hall. The second largest room in the seminary, it had been converted into the courtroom. Next to him, a long table with five chairs awaited the ministers of his faith who would serve as judges. The students filed in to observe, knowing they might never see another proceeding like this. Only two other ministers of their denomination had ever been on trial to be defrocked and excommunicated. He recognized the four he’d met over the winter break. Fletcher nodded in acknowledgment. Dover and the others pointedly ignored him.
Reverend Ingram entered with four men in clerical collars, each man taking his seat at the table next to him. Gideon’s shoulders fell a little more when Reverend Ingram took the farthest seat. He couldn’t see the others well as his chair sat slightly forward, rudely forcing him to pivot if he wanted to see the faces of his judges.
Mr. Butler arrived alone. Reverend Porter entered with his wife on his arm, refusing to look his way, but Mrs. Porter smiled over the head of her infant son.
Hushed murmurs filled the room. The Spanish Inquisition must have been much like this. The thought nearly brought a smile to Gideon’s face. The only thing he lacked were shackles around his ankles.
At the center of the table, the reverend picked up a gavel. Before he lowered it, the door opened again. Old Norton ushered in Doctor Whiting, along with Mina. Mr. Butler smirked. Mina leveled him with a stare that would’ve had any man with half a brain shaking in his boots. But Mr. Butler’s smile turned condescending. Clearly he did not own half a brain. Old Norton rushed to get Mina a chair, donated rather unwillingly by one of the students, who was obliged to move to a bench.
The gavel dropped three times. The charges he’d heard privately in Reverend Ingram’s office where now laid out before all. Murmuring from the students necessitated the gavel falling again.
“You have heard the charges. How do you plead?” The reverend in the center seemed to be the leader of the group.
Gideon stood and turned to address the five ministers. “With the exception of profaning the Lord’s day, I am innocent of all charges. I did on the afternoon of the fourth of March, which was the Sabbath, set my fists upon a man in order to halt his attack of a young woman. Reverend Porter determined at the time that the dire situation called for such action, and I was therefore excused.”
Murmuring again, followed by the strike of the gavel.
The balding minister nearest him addressed the front row. “Reverend Porter, to the charge of profaning the Lord’s day, were you then, and are you now of the opinion that it should be dismissed?”
Reverend Porter stood. “I have considered the matter and—” The reverend stepped ever so slightly away from his wife. Had she kicked him?
Gideon schooled his features.
Porter continued. “—and I am of the opinion, due to the nature of the incident, that Mr. Frost had an obligation to intercede, though it is unfortunate he could not do so in a more peaceful manner.”
A high, nasally voice from the oldest reverend at the table cut in. “Reverend Porter, on that date, did you see that the other participant in this brawl was charged by the local magistrate for his actions?”
“I did not.”
“Not even for hitting a woman?”
“No. The character of the woman is of some question.” This time Gideon was sure Mrs. Porter kicked her husband, as he wished he could.
Whispers rose, both at the table and from where the students sat. The reverend with the gavel hit it three more times. “I would like to remind those present that Reverend Porter is not on trial here. I move the charge of profaning the Lord’s day be dropped from those brought against Mr. Frost, and no action is needed to report the instance to the civil authorities. Brethren, what say ye?”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“I would like to hear the particulars of the matter first,” said the nasally voiced man.
“I concur.” Reverend Ingram’s agreement surprised Gideon. Could he not have allowed this to pass?
“Very well. Reverend Porter, did you witne
ss this incident?”
“I did not.”
Mr. Butler stood. “I witnessed it all.”
“And you are?”
“Mr. Theodor Butler.”
“Ah, the man bringing these charges. We have your statements, and unless we call on you, you are to remain silent.”
“But I—”
Bam. The bang of the gavel silenced all in the room. “Mr. Butler, you are not a necessary part of this proceeding, as you have already given testimony. The exact line relating to this charge was, er—here it is. ‘Mr. Gideon Frost did in a malicious and unwarranted manner hit me in the face causing my nose to bleed.’ If indeed you struck a woman and Mr. Frost defended her, then his actions were neither malicious nor unwarranted.”
“Bu—”
Bam. The gavel struck the table. “Sit down, sir, or be removed from the room.”
Mr. Butler took his seat.
The reverend in charge looked around the room. “I gather the young woman in question is not here today.”
Reverend Porter answered. “No, sir, she is not. Her father fetched her home, and she could not be reached.”
Reverend Ingram leaned forward in his seat. “Did you see any evidence of an assault?”
“I visited the young woman three days after the incident to administer to her troubled spirit.” Gideon balled his fists and bit his tongue. “At that time, there were several bruises on her face and a cut on the left cheek, which has since scarred.”
“Did she make any accusations as to the identity of her attacker?” the balding one asked.
“She spoke not a word to me.”
“Mr. Frost, other than yourself, is there any person here whom the young woman may have spoken to?” The tall, skinny reverend spoke for the first time.
“Her aunt, Mrs. Mindwell Richards, and Doctor Whiting.”
“Mina?” the tall clergyman coughed out the name.
“Yes, Robert, ’tis I.” Mina straightened to her full five-foot height and looked the taller man in the eye.
“What have you to do with this?” It was hard to tell if the color filling the tall reverend’s face was a result of anger or of embarrassment for his apparent connection to Mina.
“The young lady in question is my grandniece and, yes, she named Mr. Butler as her attacker and said Mr. Frost is the man who saved her from further harm.”
“Have you any proof of this, Mrs. Richards?”
“Only my niece’s actions. She avoids Mr. Butler in all things.”
“And, Doctor Whiting, what have you to say?” the nasally-voiced reverend asked.
The doctor helped Mina back into her seat before facing the board. “I was called to the Richards’s house the evening of the first Sunday in March. I removed several large splinters from the young woman’s back, which had been embedded there earlier that day. On her face were four large bruises—one above her left eye, another below, and bruises on either side of her jaw, as if some man had squeezed it tight.” The doctor touched his own face to show the locations. “There was a cut along her left cheekbone that appeared to be from a large ring. Something like Mr. Butler wears on his right index finger.”
“Did the young lady name Mr. Butler as her attacker?” asked Reverend Ingram.
“Not that evening, as she could barely speak due to the swelling on her face and jaw. However, on a subsequent visit, she was able to confirm the identity of her assailant as Mr. Butler.”
“And what was the purpose of your visit?” The minister with the gavel took control of the questioning again.
“To check on the progress of her healing and to ascertain there had been no ravishment beyond that which Mr. Frost reported to me.”
“And was there?”
“She denied there was, and since Mr. Frost was certain he’d stopped Mr. Butler before a rape occurred, I did not subject the young woman to further examination.”
“I see. Why did you not go to the magistrate with charges?”
“The law only punishes where a rape by force has occurred. Mrs. Richards was of the mind that the charge of assault would generally be ignored, as has been the case in the past with Mr. Butler’s indiscretions.” The doctor cast a withering look at Mr. Butler as he concluded his testimony.
The five men at the table conferred in muted tones.
“Mr. Frost, we are dismissing the charge of profaning the Lord’s day and also that of bearing false witness, as the charges seem to be in relation to the incidents of the same afternoon. The only person who might prove or disprove Mr. Butler’s claim appears to be the young woman. Reverend Porter, at anytime, has it been your belief that the damage to the young woman’s face or person was caused by any other person besides Mr. Butler?”
Porter stood again. “No, sir.”
“Mr. Butler, please stand. You claim Mr. Frost bore false witness as to your treatment of said young woman claiming she quote, ‘invited your intentions,’ unquote. As all five of us are married or are widowers and two of us have fathered daughters, we know that invited intentions do not require the use of fists. Since several have testified that she was injured by your hand, we find no evidence of false witness.”
Mr. Butler sat down but clenched his jaw so hard Gideon wondered if the man’s teeth might not break.
“This brings us to the charge of fornication, which, Mr. Frost, if it occurred prior to your resignation, would be a serious charge in and of itself. Did you post intentions with a Miss Elizabeth Garrett on the second day of this month?”
“Yes.”
“When did you ask for her hand?” asked Reverend Ingram.
“I did not.”
The buzz in the hall rose. The gavel sounded several times. “A highly unusual circumstance. Most couples post their intentions after coming to an agreement about marriage. The accusation says you are marrying her only because she is ‘with child’ and there is no other reason. And, I quote, ‘A gentleman of good standing would marry a trollop such as Miss Garrett has proven herself to be,’ unquote. What say you of this?”
Gideon felt the weight of the gaze of every man in the room. Only Mrs. Porter and Mina gave encouraging smiles.
Crossing the room and throwing a punch at Mr. Butler’s smug face was not an option, so Gideon balled his hands and turned to the tribunal. “First of all, I would like to defend Miss Garrett. In no way has the lady displayed wanton tendencies, nor is she of low moral character. Any of her missteps are no more than many a flirtatious miss has taken in trying to attract a husband. Having been on the receiving end of the flirtations of several women since my Ruth’s passing, I am somewhat familiar with such things.”
Several muted guffaws echoed from the back of the room.
“As far as any carnal relations, I have done naught but hold Miss Garrett’s hand when assisting her, or allow her to take my arm when escorting her, as is proper.”
The nasally one spoke up. “So you mean to tell me you have posted your intentions with a woman you have not proposed to, nor kissed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Perhaps it would save us time if you explained why your intentions have been posted,” the tall minister asked.
“Miss Garrett’s father finds some of her actions to be an embarrassment to his position. He—”
“What is his position?” The tall minister glanced at Mina as he asked the question.
“He is a magistrate.”
The reverend waved the gavel in a motion for Gideon to continue.
“Her father has threatened on several occasions to marry her off to the next man he finds who will move to Ohio. Due in part to the circumstances of the first Sunday in March resulting in a somewhat distraught letter written by Miss Garrett to her father, both Mrs. Richards and Miss Garrett believed the fulfill
ment of such a threat was imminent. I offered the intentions as a way to give Miss Garrett a year’s time with her aunt and to find a situation she would prefer.”
Reverend Ingram frowned. “So you entered into your intentions under false pretenses?”
“Yes, but—”
“Make a note to have them withdr—” The balding minister picked up his pen.
“No, please. I intend to marry her if she will have me!” Gideon wasn’t sure who was more surprised at his outburst. Mina looked too satisfied to be surprised, as did Mrs. Porter. The men in the room were another matter.
The gavel pounded twice.
“Are you saying you do intend to marry Miss Garrett?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Just when did you decide this?” Reverend Ingram leaned forward, his brows raised.
When she flipped cow dung in my face? When she stood on her rock and shouted at her father? When she fell asleep on my shoulder after helping the Stewards? The day she tried to flirt by letting her hair drop? Just now?
“Mr. Frost?”
“Yesterday. I think I knew before, but definitely yesterday. I thought I saw her pass by my window wearing her hideous gray work dress, and I knew I wanted to marry her. She isn’t Ruth, and that is as it should be. Though I don’t know if she will have me.”
The tallest minister spoke. “Judging by the expression on Mrs. Richards’s face, I suspect her niece will have you.”
Gideon chanced a look at Mina. Her grin was the brightest thing in the room.
The gavel struck once. “I move all charges be declared false and thrown out. Brethren?”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye!”
The students cheered, and the gavel rang out once again.
“Mr. Frost, we accept your resignation as tendered, if that is still your wish, and we will allow you to stay a member of our sect if you so desire it. Reverend Porter, we advise you to instruct your parishioners on the proper way of bringing charges against a fellow member. In this case, we would like to point out that the accuser seems to be guilty of the false charges he’s levied against Mr. Frost, including that of fornication. I believe this is the reason he is marrying one of my parishioner’s granddaughters in two weeks’ time. I advise you to hold council with Mr. Butler as soon as possible.”
