Into the Wilderness (7 page)

In
the time it took her to read through the placards,
Elizabeth
felt the room fall silent around
her. She knew that they were looking at her, and so she straightened her
shoulders and turned to meet them. The group of men sat around the hearth on
makeshift stools, and in their center two young children huddled by the fire,
one with a corncob doll, the other with a penknife and piece of wood. Anna was
the only other woman; the others were all men of various ages, clearly farmers
here to share news and the heat of the hearth on a snowy winter morning. She
introduced herself to each of the adults, making a conscious effort to mark
their names and faces: Henry Smythe, who had a tic; Isaac Cameron, who, while
young, was losing his hair and who had a mouthful of poor teeth; Jed McGarrity,
so tall he stooped and had the largest hands Elizabeth had ever seen on any
human being; and Charlie LeBlanc, younger than the rest, who was missing both
his upper front teeth and whistled when he talked. He avoided her gaze,
blushing furiously as he shook her hand. Only Moses Southern seemed to give her
his hand reluctantly, scowling at a point on the ceiling as he muttered his
name. He was about sixty years old, his face crackled and roughened to the
consistency of bark. The cold weather had turned his already substantial nose
into a great red radish, and when she smiled at him he flushed a deeper shade.

Elizabeth
turned to the children.

"And
who have we here?"

"My
two youngest!" said Anna."Henrietta and Ephraim, they might tell you
if they could find their tongues. Children! Come forward. A curtsy, please,
Miss Henrietta. Ephraim, have you forgot your bow?"

"Have
you had any schooling?"
Elizabeth
asked them in a kindly tone as she took their hands in turn. The children, both
with sleek brown hair and placid eyes in pale faces, shook their heads, and
then turned as one toward their mother.

"Nope,
never had the opportunity," Anna answered for them. She laughed. "Too
bad, ain't it, that you didn't bring a schoolmarm along with you from
England
."

"But
I did,"
Elizabeth
said, and smiled."I am a teacher."

One
of the farmers cleared his throat loudly, but had nothing to say in response to
Elizabeth
's
statement. Even Anna Hauptmann seemed struck speechless.

"I
am a teacher," she repeated, glancing around at them. "I plan to
start a school as soon as space can be made ready."

"Well!"
Anna said, her surprise ebbing to make room for enthusiasm."Well, I never.
The judge's daughter. A school in
Paradise
!"

"I
suppose you expect folks to pay tuition," Moses Southern rumbled, not
meeting her eye.

"I
hadn't thought about that yet,"
Elizabeth
said."But of course the fee would be very small, and payable in
goods—"

One
of the men looked relieved at this, and
Elizabeth
went on, encouraged.

"I
was hoping," she said, glancing at each of the farmers as she did."I
was hoping to get together a list of all the children who are of school age, so
I have an idea of the supplies I'll need, and if I have enough books."

"Books!"
Mr. Smythe exclaimed. "Did you bring books all the way from
England
?"

"I
did."
Elizabeth
confirmed. "Or at least, they are coming with my trunks—as soon as Galileo
has time to fetch them; they came after by ice—boat. Primers and readers and
arithmetic, some geometry and algebra, history—" She saw the faces around
her begin to cloud and she continued, less sure of herself."Geography,
maps of course, literature, and Latin."

"Latin!"
Anna snapped the word.

"What
use would these children have for Latin?"

"Why,
Latin is—" began
Elizabeth
,
but she was interrupted.

"
Reading
and writing is
fine," Mr. Cameron said."Arithmetic and geometry are useful things.
But Latin? And history, I don't know. My boys won't have much use for Romans
and Greeks while they are trying to run a farm."

"Latin—"
tried
Elizabeth
again.

"Latin
will bring nothing but discontent! These are frontier children, they don't need
ideas about philosophy! Next thing you'll want to send them off to university
where their heads will be filled with poetry!" Moses Southern was working
himself up to a high pitch, and Anna stepped in with a calmer tone.

"Our
young folk don't need to know about lords and ladies and suchlike."

But
Moses wasn't to be calmed.

"Royalty!"
he fairly spat."It took long enough to roust the redcoats. Why would we
want to study on them?" He seemed not to realize, or perhaps care, that
Elizabeth
was English.

"The
girls will never look at another honest, hardworking farmer, if you fill their
heads with royalty," Anna pointed out to
Elizabeth
, clearly torn between the wish to
be an ally and the obvious truth of the situation.

Distraught,
Elizabeth
saw
that she had taken the wrong strategy with the very people she needed to win
over; without their support and the support of others just like them, she would
never be able to start her school. She searched madly for an argument which
would save her plans. They stood around her, their faces expectant, waiting for
her to counter the logic they had served up. The bible, thought
Elizabeth
, something from
the bible, but nothing came to mind. Frantic, she saw their expressions begin
to close against her.

"Blessed
are those wise in the ways of books." she said quickly, "for theirs
is the kingdom of righteousness and fair play."" Then she
flushed.From the corner of her eye she saw Galileo, who had been silent
throughout the entire exchange, raise a grizzled eyebrow in surprise. One of
the farmers was looking at her doubtfully, but she lifted her chin.

"Matthew,"
she added, defiantly.

Suddenly
her bravado left her and she wished for nothing so much as to walk away and
come in to start over again. She was telling these people that she was worthy
of teaching their children and the first example she had given them of her own
education and worthiness of such a task was a completely fraudulent—and
self—serving—bible verse.

Elizabeth
glanced over her shoulder to see if Galileo was ready to go, and she started.

Nathaniel
Bonner stood at the door, and on his face, the certainty that he had overheard
at least some of this conversation, and most certainly the part of which she
was least proud.

Elizabeth
had
never been in such a situation in her entire life; she took in Nathaniel's cool
but amused look, and she barely knew how to contain her embarrassment. He
nodded to her, and wished her good day, but
Elizabeth
could barely nod in return. She
took the very first opportunity to take her leave from Anna and her customers,
who had returned to their places around the hearth.

Out
on the porch
Elizabeth
was glad of the cold air which cooled her hot cheeks. For a moment she watched
while Galileo loaded supplies into the sleigh, all the while sending her
curious sidelong glances. resolutely,
Elizabeth
avoided direct eye contact.

"I
think I'll take a walk now, Galileo," she said as lightly as she could.
"I'll be able to find my way back home."

And
Elizabeth
took off as
fast as she could down a narrow but well—trod path which led past a number of
small cabins. Women came to doors to wave to her, but she pressed on, smiling
politely. She needed to be alone for a while, to sort out her thoughts.

The
path led through a stand of evergreens and then, beyond that, it took
Elizabeth
to the
lakeside. She stopped suddenly within a foot of a little beach with its own
dock, its supports all encased in ice, and saw that the fishermen were coming
in now, dragging with them their heavy nets. There were six men and a number of
boys,
Elizabeth
counted, and they were coming straight toward her with curious and expectant
looks on their faces. She suppressed a little groan, and turned abruptly away
back up the path, running as she did so directly into Nathaniel.

With
a little cry
Elizabeth
slipped and would have lost her footing on the hard—packed snow if Nathaniel
had not reached out to steady her, both his hands catching her upper arms just
above the elbows, her own hands coming to rest on firmly muscled forearms.
Dismayed at her own clumsiness and confused by his sudden appearance,
Elizabeth
looked up at
Nathaniel, who stood calmly with his head inclined toward her. She felt the
press of his fingers quite clearly through her cape and she was aware of his
warm breath on her face; for a moment
Elizabeth
was strangely paralyzed, and then she pulled away with a little twist.
Breathing heavily, she glanced back toward the lake at the approaching
fishermen.

"Pardon
me," she murmured to Nathaniel and she started up the path once again.
"Excuse me, Mr. Bonner."

"Wait!"
Nathaniel called after her, and
Elizabeth
walked all the faster. She picked up her skirts a little to increase her speed.

"
Elizabeth
, wait!" he
called again, this time much closer. Realizing that she could not outpace him,
Elizabeth
stopped and
tried to calm her breathing. Then she turned toward Nathaniel.

"Yes?"
she asked as evenly as she was capable. He stood before her dressed as he had
been the day before.
Elizabeth
noted that under his own lined mantle he wore a clean buckskin shirt, and this
brought to mind his injury; Her face fell.

"Pardon
me, Mr. Bonner," she began.

"Nathaniel."

Elizabeth
drew
in her breath and let it out. When she was calmer, she set her face in what she
hoped were friendly but distant lines. "Please pardon me for bumping into
you that way. I hope I did not disturb your wound."

Nathaniel
glanced at his own shoulder and back again.

"I
did not realize you were behind me,"
Elizabeth
finished.

"I
was coming after you," Nathaniel said. "I should have thought that
was clear enough. I need to talk to you," he paused. "About your
schoolhouse."

Elizabeth
looked away and made an effort to control her breathing, to steady her voice.
"I doubt that there will be a school," she said. "The people
here don't seem particularly interested in one."

"You
give up easily."

"I
beg your pardon?"

"I
wouldn't have thought it of you, that you give up so easy. That little bit of
ribbing at the trading post couldn't change your mind, if it was really
set."

"I
haven't given up," she said. "It's just—" She paused, and seeing
that Nathaniel was not laughing at her, she continued more slowly. "It's
just more complicated than I anticipated. It's not what I expected," she
finished.

"You're
not what they expected, either," Nathaniel said.

"And
what did they expect?" she asked, although she was a little afraid of what
Nathaniel might offer in reply.

"Not
a bluestocking," he said lightly.

The
term was not familiar to
Elizabeth
,
but she sensed that it was not complimentary. "I expect that unmarried
women who care little for fashion are what you call bluestockings," said
Elizabeth
.

"A
spinster who teaches school is a bluestocking, in these parts," corrected
Nathaniel. Before
Elizabeth
could comment, he continued: "They thought that a princess was coming, you
see, the judge's daughter. Dressed in silks and satins, on the lookout for a
rich husband. The doctor, most likely. Which ain't what they got—if it weren't
for those fancy boots you could be a quaker, as simple as you dress. Since you
won't be the spoiled princess they expected, they don't know what to do with
you."

"I
am so sorry to disappoint,"
Elizabeth
snapped.

"On
the contrary," Nathaniel said, producing a slow smile. "I ain't the
least bit disappointed."

In a
fluster,
Elizabeth
picked up her skirts in preparation for walking back uphill and caught sight of
her boots: soft cordovan leather polished to a gleam, brass hooks, tassels, and
delicate heels. Not sufficiently lined for the icy byroads of upper New—
York
State, her toes were
informing her. Pretty boots: her one luxury and weakness.