Into the Wilderness
Page 288
Richard's head snapped back and the color rose on his cheeks.
"Kitty has changed," he said. "But you haven't. If you were a man, I'd call you out for that."
Elizabeth grabbed Nathaniel's arm to keep him where he was.
"Do you mean to point out that I cannot be diverted from the issue at hand? Let me promise you this much: I will not exert undue influence on Kitty, or lie to her, if you will promise likewise. If in the end she decides to go to England, you will not hinder her. If she decides to stay, I will not try to change her mind. If your intentions are honorable, then I cannot see how this agreement could displease you."
Richard hesitated, the thoughts sparking vaguely behind his eyes. His gaze rested briefly on Nathaniel, and then shifted away.
"Done," he said hoarsely.
"We'll hold you to it," Nathaniel said.
Richard hefted himself back into the saddle. "It's not my half of the bargain that worries me," he said. "It's your wife's." And he wheeled his horse away, and was gone.
"He plans to marry Kitty before the year's out," Nathaniel said.
Elizabeth was not sure of that, but she thought it would not be wise to say so at this moment; Nathaniel's irritation was too close to the surface. "You may be right," she said. "But I think Kitty has a surprise or two in store for him."
Nathaniel grunted softly. "Let's hope she leads him on a chase out of Paradise."
Elizabeth picked up her skirts and took his arm once again. "That is one wish that you may actually see fulfilled."
* * *
They found Kitty not at rest, but in the kitchen with Curiosity and her daughters. The baby was in a cradle near the hearth burbling softly to himself, completely at ease with the great deal of noise and laughter that filled the room. Kitty stood at the long table, her arms elbow—deep in bread dough.
Curiosity put down her spoon with a thump and came toward them like small storm. "You ain't got no more common sense than a home—struck cow, walkin' here in that snow. Sit down by the fire and I'll bring you some tea. Your head ache, don't it? Nathaniel, what was you thinking?"
"Short of trussing her like a calf, she couldn't be stopped, Curiosity."
"She is single—minded," Kitty supplied, wiping her hands on a piece of sackcloth.
"I hope that is sufficient discussion of my character deficiencies," said Elizabeth, taking the seat that was pressed upon her.
There was a great deal of rushing around and talk as the walkers were stripped of their wet shoes and garments. Curiosity presented them with toweling to dry themselves, tea and plates of cake, and bits of the day's news: Ethan had slept through the night for the second time in a row, which explained Kitty's clear eyes and high spirits at least in part. Manny had cut his hand at the mill, and would not be able to work for a week or more. Joshua Hench and Daisy would be married on New Year's Day, and the judge had offered them the parlor for the ceremony. There was a letter from aunt Merriweather which must be read aloud, as it was addressed to Elizabeth as well as Kitty. It included the story of her meeting with Abigail Adams, a woman Aunt found to be both overworked and overpraised.
The baby began to fuss, and Daisy swooped down to snatch him up and deliver him to his mother's lap. Kitty settled in a rocker on the far side of the hearth with the boy at her breast, carrying on an animated conversation with Polly about his recent growth of dark hair.
"Did you see, Elizabeth?" she called. "His eyes are such a bright blue now, and Curiosity says they will stay that way."
On her way out the door with a pile of laundry, Curiosity paused. "He got your mama's eyes, Elizabeth. Clear as the heavens."
The baby let out a belch many sizes too large for such a small person, and Kitty laughed out loud. "I hope he will have some of her delicacy of manner, too."
Elizabeth said, "I think motherhood agrees with you, Kitty."
"Yas'm, that it does." Curiosity winked at them, and then disappeared down the hall.
Flushing with pleasure at this praise, Kitty bent her blond head over her son's dark curls and looked up again only when Polly and Daisy sat down to their spinning nearby. Nathaniel leaned over to whisper in Elizabeth's ear.
"Richard has a battle before him," he said softly. "And he has none of the right weapons."
"Why do you say that?" she asked, truly amazed.
He gestured with his chin to the three young women, deep in a conversation that wove in and out of the rhythmic clatter and whirr of the spinning wheels.
"She's never had a home like this, with women around her. Do you think she'll give up Curiosity and this kitchen for Richard and feathered bonnets? Even your aunt might not be able to get her away, in the end."
"It is true I have never seen her so much at ease. Is it not strange, Nathaniel? A year ago I could not imagine ever leaving Paradise while Kitty could not wait to get out, and now—" She hesitated.
Nathaniel ran a thumb over her cheekbone. "Are we going, then?" His eyes with all their complexity of light and dark, and the greens and golds and browns of the great north woods. His gaze held her firmly bound to him, as firmly he had held her in his arms and would hold her again, in common purpose, in sorrow and joy.
"I don't know," she murmured, catching his hand against her face. "I truly do not know."
Whether they stayed in Paradise or went, it did not matter, not really. Not if she could look up and find him there. Mine, she thought simply. Mine.
"Kitty has changed," he said. "But you haven't. If you were a man, I'd call you out for that."
Elizabeth grabbed Nathaniel's arm to keep him where he was.
"Do you mean to point out that I cannot be diverted from the issue at hand? Let me promise you this much: I will not exert undue influence on Kitty, or lie to her, if you will promise likewise. If in the end she decides to go to England, you will not hinder her. If she decides to stay, I will not try to change her mind. If your intentions are honorable, then I cannot see how this agreement could displease you."
Richard hesitated, the thoughts sparking vaguely behind his eyes. His gaze rested briefly on Nathaniel, and then shifted away.
"Done," he said hoarsely.
"We'll hold you to it," Nathaniel said.
Richard hefted himself back into the saddle. "It's not my half of the bargain that worries me," he said. "It's your wife's." And he wheeled his horse away, and was gone.
"He plans to marry Kitty before the year's out," Nathaniel said.
Elizabeth was not sure of that, but she thought it would not be wise to say so at this moment; Nathaniel's irritation was too close to the surface. "You may be right," she said. "But I think Kitty has a surprise or two in store for him."
Nathaniel grunted softly. "Let's hope she leads him on a chase out of Paradise."
Elizabeth picked up her skirts and took his arm once again. "That is one wish that you may actually see fulfilled."
* * *
They found Kitty not at rest, but in the kitchen with Curiosity and her daughters. The baby was in a cradle near the hearth burbling softly to himself, completely at ease with the great deal of noise and laughter that filled the room. Kitty stood at the long table, her arms elbow—deep in bread dough.
Curiosity put down her spoon with a thump and came toward them like small storm. "You ain't got no more common sense than a home—struck cow, walkin' here in that snow. Sit down by the fire and I'll bring you some tea. Your head ache, don't it? Nathaniel, what was you thinking?"
"Short of trussing her like a calf, she couldn't be stopped, Curiosity."
"She is single—minded," Kitty supplied, wiping her hands on a piece of sackcloth.
"I hope that is sufficient discussion of my character deficiencies," said Elizabeth, taking the seat that was pressed upon her.
There was a great deal of rushing around and talk as the walkers were stripped of their wet shoes and garments. Curiosity presented them with toweling to dry themselves, tea and plates of cake, and bits of the day's news: Ethan had slept through the night for the second time in a row, which explained Kitty's clear eyes and high spirits at least in part. Manny had cut his hand at the mill, and would not be able to work for a week or more. Joshua Hench and Daisy would be married on New Year's Day, and the judge had offered them the parlor for the ceremony. There was a letter from aunt Merriweather which must be read aloud, as it was addressed to Elizabeth as well as Kitty. It included the story of her meeting with Abigail Adams, a woman Aunt found to be both overworked and overpraised.
The baby began to fuss, and Daisy swooped down to snatch him up and deliver him to his mother's lap. Kitty settled in a rocker on the far side of the hearth with the boy at her breast, carrying on an animated conversation with Polly about his recent growth of dark hair.
"Did you see, Elizabeth?" she called. "His eyes are such a bright blue now, and Curiosity says they will stay that way."
On her way out the door with a pile of laundry, Curiosity paused. "He got your mama's eyes, Elizabeth. Clear as the heavens."
The baby let out a belch many sizes too large for such a small person, and Kitty laughed out loud. "I hope he will have some of her delicacy of manner, too."
Elizabeth said, "I think motherhood agrees with you, Kitty."
"Yas'm, that it does." Curiosity winked at them, and then disappeared down the hall.
Flushing with pleasure at this praise, Kitty bent her blond head over her son's dark curls and looked up again only when Polly and Daisy sat down to their spinning nearby. Nathaniel leaned over to whisper in Elizabeth's ear.
"Richard has a battle before him," he said softly. "And he has none of the right weapons."
"Why do you say that?" she asked, truly amazed.
He gestured with his chin to the three young women, deep in a conversation that wove in and out of the rhythmic clatter and whirr of the spinning wheels.
"She's never had a home like this, with women around her. Do you think she'll give up Curiosity and this kitchen for Richard and feathered bonnets? Even your aunt might not be able to get her away, in the end."
"It is true I have never seen her so much at ease. Is it not strange, Nathaniel? A year ago I could not imagine ever leaving Paradise while Kitty could not wait to get out, and now—" She hesitated.
Nathaniel ran a thumb over her cheekbone. "Are we going, then?" His eyes with all their complexity of light and dark, and the greens and golds and browns of the great north woods. His gaze held her firmly bound to him, as firmly he had held her in his arms and would hold her again, in common purpose, in sorrow and joy.
"I don't know," she murmured, catching his hand against her face. "I truly do not know."
Whether they stayed in Paradise or went, it did not matter, not really. Not if she could look up and find him there. Mine, she thought simply. Mine.
