Into the Wilderness
Page 94
The original patent was produced and examined, and subsequently the judge took his quill in hand and signed the deed of gift. Elizabeth and Mr. Bennett then countersigned the document. Finally, it was witnessed by Mr. Witherspoon, who had dropped in for the evening, and, with an especially notable flourish, by Curiosity Freeman. They drank Elizabeth's health with Madeira. Without a trace of suspicion, Mr. Bennett congratulated Curiosity on her doctoring, and Elizabeth on her improved health.
A single woman newly in possession of a good fortune, Elizabeth took her leave from her father and his guests, and retired to her bed.
Chapter 22
She fell asleep. Deeply, utterly, completely asleep. Having feared that she would jitter to pieces waiting for the house to quiet, Elizabeth courted disaster of another kind. If not for Curiosity, she might have slept until morning.
But Curiosity was there, and she came into Elizabeth's room deep in the night. She brought with her a dark cloak, some bread and meat tied into a serviette, a cup of hot tea laced with rum, and a key.
Silently, Elizabeth held up the last object and raised an eyebrow in question. By the light of the single candle, the stark, broad bones of Curiosity's face came into relief; Elizabeth was glad to see her smile and become more familiar.
"The sec’tary," she whispered. And then, with a hug and a look which admonished and encouraged all at once, she slipped away, her white nightdress trailing behind her in a long comma.
Her father's secretary. of course. He would have locked the deed of gift up with his other papers. Elizabeth closed her hand around the cold metal to steady her shaking.
It was easier than she imagined, getting down the stairs and into the study. There wasn't any time to waste, but she didn't let herself think of that, or of anything but the key and the lock and the documents she needed. Even when it was open in front of her she didn't dare to stop and breathe easy; by the light of her candle she sorted through the papers and found the ones she wanted, thrusting the others back into the cubbyhole, barely looking at them. Then she stopped.
She pulled them out again, even as some other part of her mind screamed at her to get out, to go.
There, on cream—colored heavy paper, a handwriting she had recognized, but more than that. Her own name. The letter from her aunt Merriweather, addressed to her. And opened. The seal broken. In the flickering light the careful pen strokes danced.
* * *
The fourteenth day of March, 1793
Oakmere
My dearest niece Elizabeth,
Never before in my life have I more wanted those magical powers which no mortal can possess. It is only by borrowing such divine gifts that I could transport this letter to you as quickly as I would wish. Such is my concern for your welfare and future.
* * *
Elizabeth crumpled the letter against her breast as if the paper could stop the erratic beating of her heart. She dared not take the time to read the rest, or even to think about what she held in her hand, and what it might mean. She stuffed the letter into her pocket along with the deed of gift and the patent.
With hands suddenly much more steady but a heart as cold and heavy as clay, she locked her father's secretary and left his house, not bothering to take a last look around her at the rooms which she had thought would be her home for the rest of her life.
It almost ended before it began.
Elizabeth headed for the wood above the house, thinking of the shorter route to Hidden Wolf by way of the north end of Half Moon Lake. This took her around the barn, and there, where she had stood with Nathaniel two months ago, she walked into Kitty Witherspoon.
They paused, both breathing hard, like statues in the moonlight. Kitty's clothing was disturbed; a white breast glinted between the edges of the bodice she clutched in one hand. Her loosened hair hung in frowsy ropes to her waist. Her complexion was gray, but her eyes glittered.
She opened her mouth; whether to speak or scream, to greet or condemn, Elizabeth never knew, because it was at that moment that Julian appeared at the open door of the barn.
"Kitty dear," he said, as if Elizabeth were not there at all, as if he were talking to a wife across the dinner table. "Come away now."
He considered Elizabeth for a long moment, one brow cocked. "Feeling better, are we, sister?"
Then he glanced over his shoulder at Kitty, and with a shrug that conceded a battle lost, he disappeared into the dark.
PART 2:
Into the Wilderness
Chapter 23
April, 1793
The night was close and very cool, dark but not dark; they moved through a world cast in a million shades of gray. Elizabeth peered out from under her tent of oiled buckskin, her curiosity dampened but not banished by exhaustion. She balanced on the edge of sleep, rocked by the steady rhythm of the canoe as it traveled down the Sacandaga.
It was her first canoe journey, but there hadn't been any time to think about that, to worry about it or enjoy the prospect. Keeping watch had been work enough while the men retrieved the craft from its hiding place in the woods on the edge of Half Moon Lake. They had all been tense. Even Hawkeye's usual commentary had been replaced by brisk hand signals as he directed the loading. It had seemed to Elizabeth that there couldn't possibly be room for it all, furs and provisions and something that looked like a roll of bark, her own small pack, the weapons, and more. But it had all fit, and in very short order. And then without any discussion, Nathaniel and Runs-from-Bears had taken up their positions, sitting on their haunches at either end of the canoe with their paddles at the ready.
Hawkeye had helped her into her place and walked out beside them until he stood in water to his knees. For the first time since they had left Lake in the Clouds he spoke to her, a few low words about the importance of keeping her balance, and the fragility of the birchbark craft in which she sat. Then he put his hand on Nathaniel's head, spoke a few words to Bears, and after a moment's hesitation, he leaned forward to touch Elizabeth's cheek.
A single woman newly in possession of a good fortune, Elizabeth took her leave from her father and his guests, and retired to her bed.
Chapter 22
She fell asleep. Deeply, utterly, completely asleep. Having feared that she would jitter to pieces waiting for the house to quiet, Elizabeth courted disaster of another kind. If not for Curiosity, she might have slept until morning.
But Curiosity was there, and she came into Elizabeth's room deep in the night. She brought with her a dark cloak, some bread and meat tied into a serviette, a cup of hot tea laced with rum, and a key.
Silently, Elizabeth held up the last object and raised an eyebrow in question. By the light of the single candle, the stark, broad bones of Curiosity's face came into relief; Elizabeth was glad to see her smile and become more familiar.
"The sec’tary," she whispered. And then, with a hug and a look which admonished and encouraged all at once, she slipped away, her white nightdress trailing behind her in a long comma.
Her father's secretary. of course. He would have locked the deed of gift up with his other papers. Elizabeth closed her hand around the cold metal to steady her shaking.
It was easier than she imagined, getting down the stairs and into the study. There wasn't any time to waste, but she didn't let herself think of that, or of anything but the key and the lock and the documents she needed. Even when it was open in front of her she didn't dare to stop and breathe easy; by the light of her candle she sorted through the papers and found the ones she wanted, thrusting the others back into the cubbyhole, barely looking at them. Then she stopped.
She pulled them out again, even as some other part of her mind screamed at her to get out, to go.
There, on cream—colored heavy paper, a handwriting she had recognized, but more than that. Her own name. The letter from her aunt Merriweather, addressed to her. And opened. The seal broken. In the flickering light the careful pen strokes danced.
* * *
The fourteenth day of March, 1793
Oakmere
My dearest niece Elizabeth,
Never before in my life have I more wanted those magical powers which no mortal can possess. It is only by borrowing such divine gifts that I could transport this letter to you as quickly as I would wish. Such is my concern for your welfare and future.
* * *
Elizabeth crumpled the letter against her breast as if the paper could stop the erratic beating of her heart. She dared not take the time to read the rest, or even to think about what she held in her hand, and what it might mean. She stuffed the letter into her pocket along with the deed of gift and the patent.
With hands suddenly much more steady but a heart as cold and heavy as clay, she locked her father's secretary and left his house, not bothering to take a last look around her at the rooms which she had thought would be her home for the rest of her life.
It almost ended before it began.
Elizabeth headed for the wood above the house, thinking of the shorter route to Hidden Wolf by way of the north end of Half Moon Lake. This took her around the barn, and there, where she had stood with Nathaniel two months ago, she walked into Kitty Witherspoon.
They paused, both breathing hard, like statues in the moonlight. Kitty's clothing was disturbed; a white breast glinted between the edges of the bodice she clutched in one hand. Her loosened hair hung in frowsy ropes to her waist. Her complexion was gray, but her eyes glittered.
She opened her mouth; whether to speak or scream, to greet or condemn, Elizabeth never knew, because it was at that moment that Julian appeared at the open door of the barn.
"Kitty dear," he said, as if Elizabeth were not there at all, as if he were talking to a wife across the dinner table. "Come away now."
He considered Elizabeth for a long moment, one brow cocked. "Feeling better, are we, sister?"
Then he glanced over his shoulder at Kitty, and with a shrug that conceded a battle lost, he disappeared into the dark.
PART 2:
Into the Wilderness
Chapter 23
April, 1793
The night was close and very cool, dark but not dark; they moved through a world cast in a million shades of gray. Elizabeth peered out from under her tent of oiled buckskin, her curiosity dampened but not banished by exhaustion. She balanced on the edge of sleep, rocked by the steady rhythm of the canoe as it traveled down the Sacandaga.
It was her first canoe journey, but there hadn't been any time to think about that, to worry about it or enjoy the prospect. Keeping watch had been work enough while the men retrieved the craft from its hiding place in the woods on the edge of Half Moon Lake. They had all been tense. Even Hawkeye's usual commentary had been replaced by brisk hand signals as he directed the loading. It had seemed to Elizabeth that there couldn't possibly be room for it all, furs and provisions and something that looked like a roll of bark, her own small pack, the weapons, and more. But it had all fit, and in very short order. And then without any discussion, Nathaniel and Runs-from-Bears had taken up their positions, sitting on their haunches at either end of the canoe with their paddles at the ready.
Hawkeye had helped her into her place and walked out beside them until he stood in water to his knees. For the first time since they had left Lake in the Clouds he spoke to her, a few low words about the importance of keeping her balance, and the fragility of the birchbark craft in which she sat. Then he put his hand on Nathaniel's head, spoke a few words to Bears, and after a moment's hesitation, he leaned forward to touch Elizabeth's cheek.
