Into the Wilderness
Page 17
The judge's jaw dropped. "You would not."
"I would. I came here to be free of the restrictions I lived under in England. If there is no freedom for me here, there is no reason to stay."
Elizabeth gathered her writing materials together and made her way to the study door.
"I'll leave the book with you," she said. "In case you care to read any of it. Now if you will excuse me," she said, "I have to make myself ready for your party."
* * *
The parlor was cleared of most of its furniture; only chairs remained in little groups of threes and fours, and a long table laid with gleaming linen and good plate ware onto which Curiosity and her daughters had piled food of every possible kind. The room was lit with beeswax and bayberry candles and a collection of pewter lamps. Although it was full dark outside, even at five, the room was as bright as midday.
Elizabeth went about her duties as hostess as she had been trained to do since her earliest girlhood, making sure that everyone was well supplied with food and drink, that no one was without a conversation partner for long. She smiled and nodded and answered questions as they came to her, but she was terribly distraught and sometimes felt that everyone must see this clearly on her face.
It was her father's duplicity which lay heaviest on her mind. Elizabeth could not look at Richard Todd, who smiled at her kindly and was helpful in every way, without thinking that he and her father had schemed together behind her back to plan a marriage she did not want and could not countenance. It was hard to be civil under such circumstances; it was harder to pretend that nothing was amiss. All of her plans were in peril.
And Nathaniel had not come. She was surprised, and a little hurt, and then distressed at her own reaction. She could not deny to herself that she was attracted to him, but she also knew that it was an inappropriate preference, one of which her father would not approve.
Unlike Elizabeth, Julian seemed to be completely amused by his surroundings; everything was to his liking, nothing could be improved on. There were pretty girls: Elizabeth watched him flirt outrageously with Katherine Witherspoon and with Molly Kaes, a young woman who ran her father's farm; there were games and dances and absurd behavior to make light of. There was very little to occupy him except the things he liked most; he did not take note of his sister's distress. Elizabeth knew her brother too well to expect anything else.
Every man in the room seemed to want to have a conversation, from the toothless Mr. Cunningham to Mr. Witherspoon, the minister. There were three or four young men who seemed to be unattached, and who followed Elizabeth with their eyes wherever she went. This was something unaccustomed for her, as she had grown up with three prettier cousins. Elizabeth had long resigned herself to spinsterhood, in fact, she found certain promises and comforts in the idea, and she was not pleasantly surprised or flattered by this unexpected and unwanted attention. She did not believe that these men were interested in anything but her father's holdings. But she managed to deflect their advances without hurting many feelings, by gesturing to the guests she must greet and look after. Only Richard Todd was truly persistent; he would not be put off and followed her around the room until she realized she must spend at least a few minutes talking with him.
Dr. Todd wore an expensively cut coat of deep blue with brass buttons, and a stock of linen and lace at his throat. His breeches were perfectly skin—tight and showed not a wrinkle from the floral waistcoat to the knee. He had trimmed his beard and cut his hair and his manners and address were everything polite and refined. He complimented Elizabeth on the brilliancy of her complexion, on the beautiful simplicity of her deep green gown, and on the wonderful table. She accepted some compliments graciously, disavowed any credit for preparations for the party—never letting him see that it was not a compliment to assume she had been busy in the kitchen. He worked very hard at presenting himself as a gentleman, and she did not want to embarrass him.
"You are an admirer of Mrs. Wollstonecraft," Richard Todd said when a lull had come once again into their conversation. "I saw your copy of Vindication and your father told me you had lent it to him."
Elizabeth glanced at him. "Yes. It is my book." She hesitated. "You are familiar with Mrs. Wollstonecraft's work?"
"I haven't read her volume," Richard Todd said. "But I would like to."
"Really," said Elizabeth, her face averted. "I am surprised that her writings interest you."
"Because I have slaves?"
"Because you have slaves."
They were silent for a long moment.
"I inherited my slaves from an uncle," Dr. Todd said finally.
Elizabeth did not answer.
"There may be circumstances of which you can't be aware, which would make you less severe upon me in this matter," he added.
Elizabeth was a little engaged by his honesty; it was hard not to be. But she remained silent to see what else he might volunteer.
"When they are twenty—one, I will give them their freedom," he added, clearly discomfited.
"Not on my account," said Elizabeth.
"In part," he conceded.
Elizabeth wondered if he was sincere, and decided to test him.
"Then do it today," she said. "It would be a fitting thing to do on the Christmas."
"Does Mrs. Wollstonecraft write about slavery as well as women's education?" he asked, changing the subject.
"She writes about liberty, which is relevant to all peoples."
"I would. I came here to be free of the restrictions I lived under in England. If there is no freedom for me here, there is no reason to stay."
Elizabeth gathered her writing materials together and made her way to the study door.
"I'll leave the book with you," she said. "In case you care to read any of it. Now if you will excuse me," she said, "I have to make myself ready for your party."
* * *
The parlor was cleared of most of its furniture; only chairs remained in little groups of threes and fours, and a long table laid with gleaming linen and good plate ware onto which Curiosity and her daughters had piled food of every possible kind. The room was lit with beeswax and bayberry candles and a collection of pewter lamps. Although it was full dark outside, even at five, the room was as bright as midday.
Elizabeth went about her duties as hostess as she had been trained to do since her earliest girlhood, making sure that everyone was well supplied with food and drink, that no one was without a conversation partner for long. She smiled and nodded and answered questions as they came to her, but she was terribly distraught and sometimes felt that everyone must see this clearly on her face.
It was her father's duplicity which lay heaviest on her mind. Elizabeth could not look at Richard Todd, who smiled at her kindly and was helpful in every way, without thinking that he and her father had schemed together behind her back to plan a marriage she did not want and could not countenance. It was hard to be civil under such circumstances; it was harder to pretend that nothing was amiss. All of her plans were in peril.
And Nathaniel had not come. She was surprised, and a little hurt, and then distressed at her own reaction. She could not deny to herself that she was attracted to him, but she also knew that it was an inappropriate preference, one of which her father would not approve.
Unlike Elizabeth, Julian seemed to be completely amused by his surroundings; everything was to his liking, nothing could be improved on. There were pretty girls: Elizabeth watched him flirt outrageously with Katherine Witherspoon and with Molly Kaes, a young woman who ran her father's farm; there were games and dances and absurd behavior to make light of. There was very little to occupy him except the things he liked most; he did not take note of his sister's distress. Elizabeth knew her brother too well to expect anything else.
Every man in the room seemed to want to have a conversation, from the toothless Mr. Cunningham to Mr. Witherspoon, the minister. There were three or four young men who seemed to be unattached, and who followed Elizabeth with their eyes wherever she went. This was something unaccustomed for her, as she had grown up with three prettier cousins. Elizabeth had long resigned herself to spinsterhood, in fact, she found certain promises and comforts in the idea, and she was not pleasantly surprised or flattered by this unexpected and unwanted attention. She did not believe that these men were interested in anything but her father's holdings. But she managed to deflect their advances without hurting many feelings, by gesturing to the guests she must greet and look after. Only Richard Todd was truly persistent; he would not be put off and followed her around the room until she realized she must spend at least a few minutes talking with him.
Dr. Todd wore an expensively cut coat of deep blue with brass buttons, and a stock of linen and lace at his throat. His breeches were perfectly skin—tight and showed not a wrinkle from the floral waistcoat to the knee. He had trimmed his beard and cut his hair and his manners and address were everything polite and refined. He complimented Elizabeth on the brilliancy of her complexion, on the beautiful simplicity of her deep green gown, and on the wonderful table. She accepted some compliments graciously, disavowed any credit for preparations for the party—never letting him see that it was not a compliment to assume she had been busy in the kitchen. He worked very hard at presenting himself as a gentleman, and she did not want to embarrass him.
"You are an admirer of Mrs. Wollstonecraft," Richard Todd said when a lull had come once again into their conversation. "I saw your copy of Vindication and your father told me you had lent it to him."
Elizabeth glanced at him. "Yes. It is my book." She hesitated. "You are familiar with Mrs. Wollstonecraft's work?"
"I haven't read her volume," Richard Todd said. "But I would like to."
"Really," said Elizabeth, her face averted. "I am surprised that her writings interest you."
"Because I have slaves?"
"Because you have slaves."
They were silent for a long moment.
"I inherited my slaves from an uncle," Dr. Todd said finally.
Elizabeth did not answer.
"There may be circumstances of which you can't be aware, which would make you less severe upon me in this matter," he added.
Elizabeth was a little engaged by his honesty; it was hard not to be. But she remained silent to see what else he might volunteer.
"When they are twenty—one, I will give them their freedom," he added, clearly discomfited.
"Not on my account," said Elizabeth.
"In part," he conceded.
Elizabeth wondered if he was sincere, and decided to test him.
"Then do it today," she said. "It would be a fitting thing to do on the Christmas."
"Does Mrs. Wollstonecraft write about slavery as well as women's education?" he asked, changing the subject.
"She writes about liberty, which is relevant to all peoples."
