Into the Wilderness (28 page)

"We
always ask for a name." There was a pause as the woman struggled to hide
her peevishness. "This may not be England, miss, but we know how to answer
a door."

"Of
course you do," Elizabeth murmured, wishing very much that she did not
have this disgruntled servant to deal with right at this moment.

"Since
you don't ask, miss, then I'll just tell you. It's Dr. Richard Todd come to
call."

* * *

The
parlor was well lit, with braces of candelabra on the tables, so that as he
paced, Richard threw his long shadow about the room. "I had some business
to attend to in town," he told her. "And I thought I would pay the
Bennetts my respects." He strode up and down Mrs. Bennett's good Turkey
carpet with his hands crossed behind his back and his head bent forward as if
his life depended on counting every cabbage rose he stepped on.

"I'm
sure they will be sorry to have missed you," Elizabeth said.

"Hmmm."
Richard stopped suddenly before the hearth and turned to face Elizabeth.
"I really came to see you, you realize."

When
Elizabeth refused to ask him to clarify this statement, he looked puzzled, and
then dropped unceremoniously into a chair. His broad frame made the carved
walnut back seem very fragile by comparison. He leaned toward Elizabeth with
his hands on his knees and his elbows turned outward.
You are very good—looking
, Elizabeth thought to herself
And very, very sure of yourself
.

"Do
you realize this is the first time I've had the opportunity to talk to you
alone for weeks? You avoid me in Paradise. You've never even been to my
home."

Elizabeth
raised an eyebrow. "I would say that you exaggerate, Dr. Todd. I see a
great deal of you at my father's home. And I know you are sensitive to the
delicacy of a single woman visiting an eligible bachelor."

"It's
a very nice house," Richard said. "The only brick one in
Paradise."

"It
appears very nice, yes," Elizabeth said. "Did you come to talk about
your housekeeping arrangements?"

Without
further preamble, Richard jumped up and began his pacing again. Apparently
Richard Todd was a man who needed physical movement to think clearly. It was
quite irritating, really, and if it weren't for the story Mr. Bennett had told
her earlier in the day, Elizabeth might have been more forward and asked him
what he could mean by such strange behavior. She watched him sweep past the
tables with their piles of books and collections of shells, round the armchair
nearest the hearth so that his coattails brushed the fire screen make a hook
around the pianoforte, and sweep back again in her direction. There was a run
in one of his silk hose, and a splash of dirt on the other, but otherwise he
was dressed impeccably, as always.

Elizabeth
could see no sign of his early trauma in him: he was nothing more than an
ordinary man preoccupied with a goal, and insensible of his surroundings.

"Well,"
he said. "As a matter of fact, it does have something to do with my
housekeeping." He paused, drew in a deep breath, and then turned to face
her.

"You
are aware that I own some three thousand acres of land bordering on your
father's holdings. I own houses in Boston, Albany, and Paradise. I studied at
medicine as an assistant to Dr. Adams and Dr. Littlefield of Albany. Since I
left them I have been practicing medicine on my own with some considerable
success. I have substantial resources and can be of assistance to your father
in his current difficulties. I am thirty years of age, and in excellent health.
Let me see—" He seemed to consider for a moment, and then his face lit up.
"Oh, yes, on the first day of the new year I gave both my slaves their
freedom."

Elizabeth
had been following this narrative with carefully hidden amusement, but the last
statement did take her by surprise.

"I
am very glad to hear that," she said. "I mean, about your slaves. As
to the rest of it—"

"Please
allow me to finish. It comes to my attention that you are the kind of lady who
would be able to take up a life where I live—on the edge of the wilderness, as
you are aware—and flourish, in spite of the fact that you're English. Since I
am in need of a wife, and you are unmarried, and there are material advantages
to this match, I offer you my hand with your father's permission and
approval."

She
had been somewhat prepared for this event, but still Elizabeth was so surprised
by the simple forcefulness of his application that she took a moment to collect
her thoughts. Richard stood with one arm on the mantel watching her closely.

"You
sound like a man with a business proposition," she said finally,
"rather than one who wishes to marry."

She
thought for a moment that he would smile, but the seriousness of the situation
won out. Richard inclined his head.

"When
you first came to Paradise I did try to court you in a more traditional manner,
but you made it quite clear that you didn't appreciate those efforts. Now I do
you the honor of presenting you with the truth of the matter," he said. "You
are not a frivolous person, and I didn't think you would want loud
protestations which you must yourself observe to be less than truthful."

Elizabeth
was feeling a little more sure of herself, and she settled back into her chair.
It was very strange to be receiving a marriage proposal, even as unusual a one
as this, and while she would not wish for it, it was an interesting experience.
Richard had clearly been practicing these speeches for some time, as awkward
and silly as they were.

"Are
you saying that you do not care for me, but that you wish to marry me
anyway?"

"No!"
He jerked up both hands as if to stop her. "I am saying that I respect
your intelligence and that I thought you would appreciate an offer uncluttered
with—with—"

"Emotion?"

A
look of discomfort passed over his face, and then he nodded.

"Let
me see if I understand you correctly," Elizabeth said. "You want to
marry me because you think we shall both profit from such a marriage. You have
considerable wealth and lands to offer me, a life of leisure. Would you agree
to my teaching school, as your wife?"

He
shrugged. "If you find it necessary to your happiness," he said, as
if she had asked for permission to paint screens or study music.

"Exactly
in what way would you benefit?" She expected protestations of loneliness,
the want of children, or the social demands of a person of his resources, but
Richard was capable of surprising her.

"I
need a wife."

"But
there are other, younger women you have known longer," Elizabeth pointed
out. "Why does the urge to marry take you so suddenly? Especially as you
don't seem to harbor any tender feelings——" She paused. "For
me."

The
formal posture Richard had adopted on coming into the room suddenly loosened,
and he sat down on the edge of a chair, with his hands on his knees.

"I
like you fine, Elizabeth," he said, sounding himself for the first time.

Because
she could see that this was in fact true, that he did like her a little even if
he did not love her, Elizabeth felt some small softening toward him.

"Come
now, Richard," she responded with a small smile. It was the first time she
used his name, and it came to her with some difficulty. "You began by
saying that you thought honesty was the best way to proceed."

"I
thought it was best to discuss your marriage portion with your father
directly," he said, a muscle fluttering in his cheek.

"Why
don't you just tell me what transaction is at the bottom of your wish to marry
me," Elizabeth said. "I will find out from my father if you don't
tell me, you realize."

Richard
jumped up again and went over to a curio cabinet, where he began to fiddle with
a china shepherdess followed by lambs of decreasing size.

"Your
father is years in arrears on his taxes," Richard said with his back to
Elizabeth.

Elizabeth
drew in an audible breath. She had not anticipated this particular
complication. That her father was so much in debt, that he could not pay his
land tax. She had been controlling her temper, but now the first flush of anger
spread through her. She watched Richard nudging the lambs into a line while the
meaning of this raced through her head.

"If
I don't wish to marry," said Elizabeth finally, "I am sure my father
will find another way to manage to pay his debt. There is always the
possibility of mortgage."

Richard's
look had something of pity in it, and that made Elizabeth draw up.

"I
don't think there's much chance of a mortgage," he said. "Not with
the taxes in arrears."

"But
he could sell land, if need be." Elizabeth met Richard's gaze directly.
"I believe you—and others—have made offers to him."

"He
could have done that many times over, but he chose not to. You know that your
father wants to keep the land in the family."

"And
so you wish to become his son—in—law," Elizabeth said. "To circumvent
his familial scruples. The land stays in the family if you marry me and resolve
his debts."

He
was not a coward; he did not look away. "That is the short of it," he
said. "But there is material advantage for you in it as well."

"Let
me ask you, then," said Elizabeth. "What happens if I refuse to marry
you?"

Richard
shrugged. "I expect that in the end he will sell me the land anyway,"
he said. "He has no choice. It would be hard for him to borrow the cash he
needs, given his investment difficulties."

"Hidden
Wolf seems to mean a lot to you," Elizabeth said lightly.

He
didn't flinch, but he turned back to the mantelpiece. "Yes," he said.
"It means very much to me."

She
waited, but Richard was silent. Finally, Elizabeth dared to ask.

"And
what would you do with Hidden Wolf once you had it?"

The
shepherdess was in his hands, her china skirt an impossible powder pink against
his palm. He ran his thumb over the frills, and then looked up suddenly.
"I would make it mine," he said with an empty smile. "Mine
alone."

"I
see." Elizabeth nodded.
If ever in
your life you managed to keep your feelings in check,
she thought to
herself, then you must do so now. Resolutely, she put aside what she knew of
Richard's past. She could no more mention the way his mother had died on Hidden
Wolf than she could have asked Richard if he had been the one to rob the
Bonners, or shoot at Nathaniel. But she did not like the blankness in his face
when he spoke of Hidden Wolf.

"As
would be your right," she said quietly.

Richard
drew a deep breath.
He's relieved
,
thought Elizabeth. She rose from her chair.

"Well,"
she began. "Let me wish you good evening."

"But—"
He came toward her, stopped at a distance that made her uncomfortable. But she
could not draw back. "My offer?"

"Thank
you most kindly for your offer," Elizabeth said. "I'm sure you'll
understand that I need to think about this carefully."

He
inclined his head, and then, slowly, nodded. "Of course. When might I
expect an answer?"

Elizabeth
was thinking of her cousin Jane, who had had seven offers of marriage before
she accepted one.
I should have paid more
attention,
Elizabeth thought. Then she was struck with a fortunate idea.

"I
would like to write to my aunt Merriweather," she said. "I shall do
that tomorrow."

"Your
aunt—in England?"

"Yes,
of course," said Elizabeth. "I could never make a decision on a
matter of such importance without consulting her."

Richard
nodded, but his look was thoughtful. "As you wish it," he said
finally.

"As
she wishes what?" asked Julian from the hall. "What interesting
conversation have we missed?"

Elizabeth
and Richard turned toward Julian to find him leaning against the doorway,
gently slapping his gloves against his leg.

Behind
him stood Katherine, her eyes fixed first on Richard and then on Elizabeth, her
face as pale as the snow that dusted her bonnet.

Although
she was surrounded by new purchases and wore a new hat, Katherine slumped in
her corner of the sleigh as unhappy and dejected as she had been on the way to
Johnstown. Elizabeth sat observing her, torn between compassion and irritation.
That Katherine believed something important to have been arranged between
Richard Todd and Elizabeth was obvious, but Elizabeth was loath to bring up the
subject for discussion.
What terrible
messes we get ourselves into when we are silly enough to fall in love,
she
thought.

The
sky rolled over them in alternating patches of blue and clouds, now casting
sunlight, now spitting flurries. After only an hour on the road the team was
pushing too hard, eager to be home, the smell of snow in their noses. Galileo
sang to them to keep their gait steady, his soft, breathy tenor whirling away
in the wind. It was a strange but compelling winter landscape: the road ran
along a high ridge, frozen marshes stretching out into the winter mists, broken
here and there by stands of crooked black ash and white cedar, dogwood and
alders dangling clusters of red catkins. Great stretches of evergreen shrubs
showed gray—blue against the snowy backdrop. Where standing water had frozen
into whirlpools of ice, islands of bulrushes stabbed up, their stems twisted
and gold—brown, shimmering with frost. Elizabeth wished for someone who could
tell her about what she was seeing: what the grasses were called, if the
berries that the birds were eating from the shrubbery were consumed by people
as well, what the strange puppy like animal she spied next to the track was. A
look in Katherine's direction made it clear that she was not to be engaged in
such a conversation. Kitty's whole attention was fixated a quarter mile ahead
of the sleigh, where Richard and Julian rode along beside each other.