Dawn on a Distant Shore (13 page)

He was looking at her
as he did sometimes, as Bears looked at Many-Doves or her father at Elizabeth.
It was something she did not understand completely, and so she put it away, a kind
of magic to be kept for later when she was older, woman enough to understand
what it meant and strong enough to know what to do with it.

"Hannah!"

She paused at the door
with her back to him.

"I'll stay if you
want me to."

All her words had
deserted her, and so she left him there in a pool of cold winter sunshine.

In the night,
Runs-from-Bears came to Many-Doves. The sound of his step on the floorboards
brought Elizabeth out of a light sleep. On the other side of the wall she heard
Doves murmur in welcome. There were small creakings and sighs and a low laugh,
suddenly hushed.

She would have gone
outside, despite the cold and the late hour, but it would mean walking past
them. Elizabeth rolled onto her side and buried her head in the covers, trying
to banish the images that came to mind. She called up a different picture, one
she had been pushing aside all day: Nathaniel in a gaol cell. It would not be the
first time she had visited such a place. Her brother Julian had spent three
months in the London debtors' prison before Aunt Merriweather had paid his
bills and seen him clear to get on the boat to New-York. He had left England
only reluctantly. So much effort put into giving him a new start, and it had come
to nothing. Julian was dead.

But Nathaniel was
alive. Elizabeth wondered if they had blankets and a fire and decent food, if
they were chained. Her breath caught hard at this thought. Nathaniel teased her
about breaking Hawkeye out of gaol, but it was ridiculous to compare a pantry
in the trading post secured with nothing more than a rusty lock to the military
garrison in Montréal. She must trust that Will could speak persuasively for
them, and if he could not, that he would know better than she how to
effectively use the gold to bribe the right men. Together with Falling-Day she
had sewed two hundred gold coins into sacks that could be worn next to the
skin. She and Bears would carry it, but once in Montréal she would hand it over
to Will Spencer if he had need of it.

But if Will should
fail ... It was a phrase that ran through her mind like a dirge. If Will should
fail; if Somerville were intent on hanging these men he must see as nothing
more than backwoodsmen, troublemakers, wayward colonists. Americans.

She would burn their
garrison to the ground with her own hands before she let them take Nathaniel to
the gallows. She had done worse for his sake, in the heat of summer. She
remembered the weight of a strange rifle in her hands.
Vous et nul autre.
Shuddering, she pushed the memory away.

Many-Doves was
murmuring, a soft sound. Leave-taking had its own rhythm, a song sung too often
in this place on the edge of the endless forests. Bears would be gone from her
and Blue-Jay for a month, at least.

Elizabeth was suddenly
overwhelmed by sadness, and fear of what lay ahead, and a great loneliness.
Journeys
end in lovers meeting
. How Nathaniel had smiled at that. She wanted him, and
he could not come to her. "Very well, then," she whispered to
herself, alone in the dark. "I will come to you."

The Schuylers' Albany
estate was awash in children. A group of boys played snow-snake in the pasture
next to the house, in the garden little girls made snow angels, and at the gate
where Galileo brought the sleigh to a stop sat two toddlers with fire-red
cheeks, wrapped in such a collection of coats and shawls that they resembled apple
dumplings. Elizabeth paused at the door, trying to gather both her courage and
her energies. General Schuyler and his wife were the kind of friends who would
welcome her in time of need, bound as they were to the Bonners over the last
thirty years, and to Nathaniel in particular. Their kindnesses were many, but
she worried that this unannounced visit might be too much for even them.

Curiosity read her
mind. "They put up with your aunt Merriweather visitin' for weeks at a time,"
she said. "This little call ain't goin' to put them out of joint. It's
cold, Elizabeth. Hurry up."

A maid with a baby on
her hip answered her knock.

"May I help
you?" She had a Dutch accent and a weary air about her. She seemed not at
all surprised to find more guests at the door with infants in cradleboards on
their backs. Elizabeth asked for the general, which brought a flicker of
interest and surprise to the young woman's face.

"The general is
in the city," she said, peering at Elizabeth more closely. "I'll get
the missus."

"Another house
full of women and children," grumbled Curiosity, pulling her mittens off
in the warmth of the hall.

"Not quite,"
said Will Spencer from the sitting room, closing a book with a snap. "I
believe I counted two of the grown sons and a son-in-law among the masses at
table today. And there's myself, of course."

Elizabeth turned
quickly, finding herself able to smile sincerely for the first time in a day.
Will was little changed from the summer--the same slender form, dressed as
elegantly as ever. "Cousin. It is very good to see you. Where is
Amanda?"

"I fear my lady
wife has been caught yet again between Mrs. Schuyler and my mother-in-law. They
will be here in no time at all, rest assured. Come, Lizzy, let me help you. And
Hannah, how good to see you again. Mrs. Freeman, there's a fire in the hearth
here. I see that Mr. Freeman is busy with the team--is that Runs-from-Bears
with him?"

Curiosity sniffed, but
a grin escaped her as they followed Will into the sitting room.

"You've picked a
difficult time to travel, cousin," said Will. "Soon the roads will be
very bad with the thaw. Unless you were planning on a longer stay? You realize
your aunt will try to keep you here. Lady Crofton takes a very dim view of traveling
in such weather, and with infants."

Elizabeth grimaced.
"I remember. But this visit will be a very short one." She disengaged
Daniel from the second cradleboard and handed him to Hannah. "In fact,
it's quite a relief to have you alone for a moment before the others come
in--"

"Elizabeth!"
Aunt Merriweather's voice echoed through the hall.

"--if you bear me
any love, cousin, you will pack your bags and be ready to set off for Montréal
with us first thing in the morning."

The smile faded from
Will's face. "As important as all that?"

"More
important," said Elizabeth, and turned to greet her aunt Augusta Merriweather,
Lady Crofton.

She swept into the
sitting room on a breeze of her own making, her widow's bombazine and crepe
crackling with every step, the fringe on a black silk shawl fluttering behind.
Aunt Merriweather was followed by her daughter Amanda, who colored prettily at
this unexpected visit. Mrs. Schuyler and two of her married daughters made up
the rest of the party. Other daughters and servants came and went in waves with
trays of tea, sandwiches, and slabs of butter cake. Elizabeth was very glad of
the tea and the chaos; the first was bracing, and the second saved the necessity
of answering the most difficult questions immediately. And after two days'
journey, she was very willing to sit quietly on Mrs. Schuyler's sofa before the
hearth while the ladies conducted their examination of her children.

"Very
pretty," Aunt declared at length. "Good constitutions and strong
characters, but how could it be otherwise? Elizabeth, mark my words. This
little girl will lead you on a fine chase, as you led me --and I shall laugh to
see it! I fear she will have your hair, so excessively curly. You needn't scowl
at me, Amanda, your cousin knows her hair is too curly, see how it insists on
rioting about her face. Most intractable hair. Mathilde--you call her Lily? How
curious. Lily has something of your mother in her, which can only be to her
benefit. And what a fine strong little man, the image of his father. How alert
he is! I fancy he will tell me to mind my manners soon. Look at this boy's
eyes, as green as China tea. Not from our side of the family, certainly.
Whatever are you swaddling them in? Oh, I see. How clever." The babies
were passed one by one around the circle of ladies, admired soundly by each in
turn, and then handed over to nursery maids who were dispatched with firm instructions
for warm bathing.

Out on the lawn Bears
had been drawn into a game of snow-snake; a boy appeared at the door to invite
Hannah to join them. Elizabeth waved her on with some relief; at least the
child wouldn't be subjected to what was about to come.

"You go, child.
Work out some of the kinks," agreed Curiosity. "I myself am going to
see where our menfolk have got to." Elizabeth did not protest Curiosity's
abandoning her, although she would have preferred to have her nearby. She was a
valuable ally in any duel of wills. But tomorrow Galileo would start home for
Paradise and Curiosity would not see him for some weeks; it was no wonder that
she had little patience for this gathering of ladies.

Suddenly the room was
again in motion; there was talk of children's tea, baggage, rooms to be gotten
ready, and the afternoon departure of various parties. When Mrs. Schuyler's
daughters had left them, Aunt Merriweather folded her hands in her lap, and
turned her sharpest gaze on her only niece. "I am glad to see that you
have fared so well, Elizabeth. Motherhood agrees with you, although you are
grown quite angular. If you would allow me to locate a suitable wet nurse--I
see that idea does not please you. Well, I expected as much. Ah, look, here is Aphrodite.
Come greet Cousin Elizabeth, my lovely. It has been too long since you last saw
her."

Her hands spread in
welcome and the cat jumped into her lap. The diamonds on the long fingers and Aphrodite's
eyes blinked in exactly the same shade of old yellow.

"You see, she is
none the worse for having traveled the seas," Aunt Merriweather observed.
"But then I see to her diet myself. Elizabeth, my special tea will put
some color back in your complexion--"

"Mother,"
Amanda began gently. "Perhaps Elizabeth has other matters to talk to us
about. She cannot have come so far for tea."

"I expect that
your daughter is right, Lady Crofton," said Mrs. Schuyler. She was as round
and soft as Aunt Merriweather was slender and angular, in figure and in voice.
"Not that we aren't delighted to have you, Elizabeth. Most especially
glad. The last time I had the pleasure was in Saratoga, on your wedding day-- almost
exactly a year ago ..." And her voice trailed away, just shy of an actual
question.

"It will be a
year in two weeks' time," Elizabeth confirmed. In all the worry and rush,
she had not lost sight of this fact.

Looking about the
company, Mrs. Schuyler said, "Then you must pardon my curiosity and impatience,
Elizabeth. But where is Nathaniel, and why are you here without him?"

"Indeed,"
agreed Aunt Merriweather, stroking Aphrodite thoughtfully. "There must be
some extraordinary reason for a lady to travel so far with infants in this
abominable weather--a snowstorm on the first of April! I'm quite sure we do
very well with less snow in England." She shook herself slightly.
"Please enlighten us, Elizabeth, as to your motives."

Will was leaning
against the mantel, his arms crossed. Elizabeth caught his eye, and his encouraging
nod.

"Nathaniel is in
Montréal, with his father and two friends. We are on our way there," said Elizabeth.
"It is a matter of great urgency, and we must leave at first light."

There was an astounded
silence that lasted until Aunt Merriweather put her cat off her lap with uncharacteristic
abruptness. "This is most irregular. You cannot be in earnest."

"But I am indeed
in earnest," Elizabeth agreed, meeting her aunt's eye with studied calm.

Mrs. Schuyler leaned
over and squeezed Elizabeth's folded hands. "Let's have the whole
story," she said in an encouraging tone. "And then you will tell us
how we may be of help."

The whole story could
not be told. Elizabeth was not so undone by worry that she would reveal what must
not be known: she carried with her a part of a lost treasure claimed by both
the British and the American governments. Her aunt might be trusted, but to
risk any hint of the Tory gold in a household where she had just been
introduced to the wife of the secretary of the treasury--the Schuylers' eldest
daughter, Betsy--would be foolhardy. Certainly there was no need to mention Moncrieff,
or the Earl of Carryck. She told them no more than they needed to know: that Nathaniel
had gone to Montréal to see to his father's and Otter's release from gaol, and
that he had been arrested in the attempt. She anticipated her aunt's
disapproval, but Elizabeth counted also on Lady Crofton's strong instinct to
protect the family name. Such situations were not unfamiliar to her, for she
had had a husband with more money than good sense or judgment, and she had a
son who was made in his father's image.

At the news that
Nathaniel, Hawkeye, and Robbie had been charged with spying, Mrs. Schuyler
flushed deeply. "This is an outrage."