Into the Wilderness (111 page)

They
were eating on their own this evening.
Elizabeth
had managed stew, with Hannah's assistance, and corn bread, which she now
crumbled into her bowl with some irritation.

"I
know I should be glad of the challenge," she said. "But she is such a
trying child."

Hannah
hummed her agreement. "If we could at least have Liam, too," she
said. "Jemima never acts up so much when Liam's got an eye on her."

"I
guess Jemima'll settle down to schoolwork soon enough," Nathaniel offered;
his attempt at an apology. He added: "At any rate, Boots, it's a good
thing that Jed and Nancy ain't set on pulling their boys out of the classroom. Jed
is a forgiving man, I have to say.

Elizabeth
threw Nathaniel a pleading look over Hannah's head, and he nodded. For the
moment Hannah knew nothing of Jed's unplanned and undeserved stay in Anna's
pantry, or the role Elizabeth had had in Hawkeye's own return home; nor did
Elizabeth want her to know for as long as possible. The whole episode seemed
unreal, still. She expected Hawkeye to come through the door any moment, and
she thought that Nathaniel did, too.

"Ian
looks mighty strange in those spectacles," Hannah noted.

"If
you insist on reading by starlight you'll need spectacles yourself and quite
quickly," Elizabeth pointed out, ladling more stew into Hannah's bowl. She
moved too quickly and gravy splashed on the table. With a small cry of dismay,
Elizabeth
began to mop at
it with her apron.

Nathaniel
appeared at her side, pulling her gently away. "Boots!" he said
softly, his mouth turned down in worry. "It's just a spill. What is the
matter with you? You're so jumpy."

"Maybe
it's grandfather," Hannah said.

"No."
Elizabeth pulled away from him. "Yes. Of course it's Chingachgook, in
part—but, well." She drew in a big breath, and let it out. "I thought
it would be better to wait, with all that has happened in the last few days.
It's so silly of me. Here." She drew aunt Merriweather's letter from her
pocket, and held it out toward Nathaniel.

He
raised a brow, and slowly reached out to take it. Then he turned it over in his
hands. "We just forgot about this, didn't we? In the hurry to get back
here. From your aunt."

"She's
on her way here for a visit,"
Elizabeth
said in a rush.

"Well,
that's not so bad," Hannah said with a bigger smile. "Is it space
you're worried about? She can sleep with me in the loft."

The
thought of aunt Merriweather climbing the ladder to the sleeping loft might
have been amusing, in other circumstances. But
Elizabeth
could barely listen to the child's
plans for the visitors; she watched Nathaniel scan the letter line by line. He
looked up in surprise. "Your cousin and her husband, too?"

Elizabeth
cleared her throat. "And servants."

"Well,
never mind, Boots," he said, pulling her close to wipe a smear of gravy
from her cheek. "I expect we can deal with them well enough. You and me
have dealt with worse in our time, have we not?"

She
let out a short hiccup of a laugh, which Nathaniel took as agreement.

* * *

In
bed that night, Nathaniel surprised her.

"Where
did you want to run away to, when you stole your cousin's clothes?" he
asked sleepily.

"You
heard that?"

"I
was drunk, Boots. It don't render a man deaf."

She
moved her head to a more comfortable position on his shoulder. "I thought
I could sign on as a sailor, and get far away somewhere where women were
allowed to ride horses astride, and learn to shoot."

"And
read what they pleased?"

"That
was before I found out about books," Elizabeth said. "When I did find
out about them, it seemed for a long time that they would be enough to make up
for the rest of it."

He
turned on his side, shifting her down so that he could look into her face.

"What
is it about William Spencer that you want to tell me?"

"There
is nothing to tell you about William Spencer," she said without a moment's
hesitation. "Not a single thing."

But
Elizabeth
lay awake for a
long time, contemplating the irony of a truth as unsettling as any lie.

With
the approaching harvest, Elizabeth's students began to disappear from her
classroom. Boys and girls alike would be gone one day or two in an awkwardly
revolving pattern, to reappear with an apologetic nod of the head and
agricultural details
Elizabeth
had actually begun to grasp. By the end of the first week after Chingachgook's
funeral, with her own work at home increasing and the visit at hand pressing on
her mind, she recognized the necessity of a natural recess in the rhythm of the
school year. She proposed a small celebration to end a successful summer
session, with recitations.
 

"And
food?" Ephraim wanted to know.

"Of
course," Elizabeth agreed. "We would want to offer our guests
something."

"What's
a recitation?" asked Ruth Glove.

"Singing
and poems and such," proposed Dolly Smythe.

For
the first time since she had come back to the classroom, Jemima Southern sat up
to show some interest.

"Each
of you would perform some small piece. Ian, you might recite a bit from
Robinson Crusoe
if you like, you have a
very nice way with it. And Jemima, would you like to sing?"

The
look of eager surprise on Jemima's face gave
Elizabeth
great satisfaction. Finally, she
had found a suggestion which seemed to wake the little girl up.

The
date was set for the following Saturday evening.

"Our
ma makes doughnuts on Saturdays," Ephraim pointed out. "And folks
smell better, too." No one seemed surprised by this connection, and so
Elizabeth
bit down hard
on her own smile. After more discussion, she set them to the task of writing
invitations to their families.

Leaning
over Ian Kirby's slate while he puzzled out how to do such thing,
Elizabeth
felt Hannah's
hand touch her arm, tentatively.

"Can
I recite, too?"

Surprised,
Elizabeth pulled up to look at her closely. "Of course you may, Hannah
Bonner. You are a student in this class, are you not? Perhaps you could recite
some Robert Burns."

Hannah
nodded thoughtfully, and turned back to her work.

* * *

When
Elizabeth let the children go for the day, Curiosity was waiting on the step
with a broad smile and a basket filled with bread and cake and other lovely
things Elizabeth very much missed, although she would not admit this weakness.
Before she could say a word in greeting, Curiosity had grasped
Elizabeth
by both arms and pulled her back
into the empty classroom. Then she stood there, tapping one bare toe and
smiling so broadly that
Elizabeth
found herself almost laughing in return.

"What
is it?" she asked. "Good news?"

"Well,
let me tell you," Curiosity said. "There's company at your pa's,
arrived late yesterday. Asking for you."

Elizabeth
's
face fell.

"Not
that Merriweather woman! A Quaker gentleman."

"Cousin
Samuel," Elizabeth said, brightening. "I was wondering."

"Yas'm.
Samuel Hench, and he brought a man called Joshua with him, blacksmith."

"Did
he? I am glad he was able to come and call, he wasn't sure he would find the
time."

Curiosity's
sharp gaze fixed on Elizabeth's face. "That cousin of yours has been holed
up with John Glove all morning. Spending money."

Elizabeth
turned away. "I suppose then he will want his dinner."

"You
a terrible fraud,
Elizabeth
.
Look me in the face and say you don't know nothing about the man's business
here."

"Curiosity,"
she said, turning back to spread her hands out in front of her in a gesture of
surrender. "I suppose it was silly of me to think I could hide it from
you. But let's keep this between us, shall we?"

With
a hoarse laugh, the older woman took
Elizabeth
firmly by the arms again and, leaning forward, planted a dry kiss on her
forehead.

"I
knew it!" she said, shaking her slightly. "I knew I weren't mistaken
about you."

"But
we can keep this between us?"
Elizabeth
prompted, again.

Curiosity
nodded so that her turban wavered precariously. "We can, if we must. But
some things happening now, and you've got a hand in them."

"What
things?"

"Why,
my Polly will be getting married, now that Benjamin has his papers. I wondered
if this day would ever come. And right now Galileo is having a talk with Mr.
Glove. We were thinking that maybe he would hire on our Manny, have him learn
the mill business."

"But
what about Benjamin?"

"He'd
come work for your pa, take Manny's place and set up housekeeping with
Polly."

"I
believe you could run a revolution single—handed, Curiosity."

"So
could most women," she said with a dismissive flutter of her fingers. "A
revolution ain't nothing but a good spring cleaning long overdue, after
all." She thrust her basket in
Elizabeth
's
hands and picked up her skirts to go.

"You
come down to the house this evening, all of you. We've got some celebrating to
do."

"Oh,
Curiosity," Elizabeth said slowly, stepping back. "I'm not
sure."

"None
of that foolishness. He's your pa, after all. And my Polly would be
disappointed if you was to stay away." She pulled up.

"You
told the man yet that you with child?" Elizabeth shook her head. "There
never was an opportunity. I'm surprised—" And she broke off with a grin.

"Yon
think I'm going to spill those particular beans, missy, you don't know me over
well That's for you and your man to do. Tonight seem like a good time."

"I
just don't know, Curiosity. With all that has happened—"

"Chingachgook
was a good man, and now he's gone. The Mohawk know the difference between the
quick and the dead, and they don't make young folk stop livin' when the old
move on ahead. If Falling—Day don't want to come down the mountain 'cause she
don't feel comfortable, that's something else again. But you could come."

Elizabeth
hesitated, and then she nodded. "I will talk to Nathaniel."

"You
do that. And come along, then. You don't smile enough these days,
Elizabeth
, and you got
plenty to smile about, ain't you?" Her eyes traveled over the line of
Elizabeth
's skirt.

"You
have a way of looking at things, Curiosity. It is very disarming."

"I'll
take that as a compliment. Now, I'll see you tonight, I hope." And with a
rustle of skirts she disappeared over the step.

Hannah
appeared suddenly out of the other room with a whoop and a holler.

"Oh,
can we go? Please?"

"You
must learn not to startle me that way,"
Elizabeth
said, leaning back against her desk
for support. "What were you doing in there?"

"
Reading
." Hannah
held up a tract that Mrs. Schuyler had sent for
Elizabeth
's sake:
A Present to be given to Teeming Women by there Husbands or Friends,
containing Directions for Women with Child. to Prepare for the Hour of Travail.
Written for the Private use of a Gentlewoman of Quality: and now published For
the Common Good.

"Oh,
dear," said
Elizabeth
uneasily. "I suppose you've read most of it already?"

Hannah
nodded happily. "I don't think my grandmother would agree with much of it.
But it's interesting anyway."

"No
doubt,"
Elizabeth
muttered.

She
had set up the second schoolroom as her study and a library, of sorts. Nathaniel
had made her a desk, and a comfortable chair; the light was good and the view
over the lake wonderful. But when she could,
Elizabeth
preferred to work at home, to be
near him. Hannah made more use of the study than
Elizabeth
did. It was not hard to understand,
for Ebzabeth remembered very well what a rare and valuable commodity privacy
had been when she was young.