Mr. Bennett, about forty-five years of age, was a round, slightly soft-looking man, with a broad, good-natured face. Unless you looked at his eyes—which missed nothing at all in spite of their pallid blue—you might overlook Mr. Bennett completely. Elizabeth had felt him observing her more than once on her first evening as their guest. She had found him more than willing to discuss the turn of events in the French Revolution which had led—she learned with great unease—to the recent execution of the king. He had been the only one of the Bennetts to show any interest in her plans to teach school; they had even had a discussion about Mrs. Wollstonecraft, whose writings he had actually read, and thought about.
“Do you have a question of the law for me, Miss Middleton?” he asked now.
“Heavens,” said Mrs. Bennett. “Why would Miss Middleton have need of the magistrate? I’m sure she would just like to see all of Johnstown while she is here.”
“I thought we were going to the milliner’s shop,” said Katherine, saving Elizabeth the trouble of being more specific about her interest in Mr. Bennett’s work.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Elizabeth said, rising from her place.
“I will detain you no longer, my dear,” he said to his wife. “And please do bring the young ladies by the offices. I would be pleased to see you all there.”
It took Elizabeth considerably less time to dress than it would take Katherine and Mrs. Bennett; she had learned this fact on the first morning of her visit, and now prepared herself for a half hour’s wait by taking the paper with her to her room.
The Bennetts were quite wealthy, and their home was furnished in the latest style. The room they had given to Elizabeth was dominated by a large four-poster bed which was hung with a beautiful floral chintz and piled so high with feather comforters that the brass warming pan was almost unnecessary. Now Elizabeth sat by the window in a little bow-backed chair upholstered in a matching velvet and read the paper. She had gone through many notices of meetings of the local government and reports of legal disputes when her attention was claimed by the advertisements. There were ponies and land and bear traps for sale, but there were more personal matters as well. “Lydia Mathers,” Elizabeth read,
the wife of the subscriber, has eloped from her lawful husband in the company of one Harrison Beauchamp, known gadabout and suspected thief, taking with her a good pewter jug, twenty pound in coin, three silver spoons, a snuff box, the slave girl Eliza and her husband’s good underclothes. By this notice her much injured husband thinks it prudent to forewarn all persons from trusting her on his account, being determined, after such flagrant proof of her bad behavior, to pay no debts of her contracting. I treated her well.
Thy-Will-Be-Done Mathers of Canajoharee.
Elizabeth didn’t know whether she should be more shocked at Mrs. Mathers’ behavior or at her own first and abiding impulse to laugh out loud at another’s misfortune. I have been here not even two months, she thought, and my sense of propriety has been permanently undone. She read the advertisement once again and wondered at a place in which a man would advertise so openly that his lawful wife had eloped with another man. At her aunt Merriweather’s there was occasional talk of elopement, but the brides were always young women with more opportunity than good sense. Girls who ran off to Scotland to be married to men with too little money or who otherwise pleased their families too little. “Mark my words,” aunt Merriweather had said without exception when these cases came to their attention. “Happy unions cannot take root under such a cloud of deception and artifice.”
The next notice was much less amusing.
RUNAWAY SLAVE. Goes by Joe. Well grown field negro especially dark skinned, missing two toes on the left foot, run away from me Tuesday last. Thought to be headed into the Bush. Reward.
M. Depardieu, Pumpkin Hollow.
Mrs. Bennett was calling for Elizabeth, who rose and reluctantly put the paper aside on the chair. But as she was turning away, a word caught her eye and she picked up the paper again.
WANTED. Any word on the whereabouts of the old Indian Sachem Chingachgook, known also as Great-Snake or Indian John. To settle a debt.
Jack Lingo. Leave a message at the Trading Post, Stumptown.
Elizabeth stood reading this advertisement again and again until Katherine knocked at her door impatiently.
“Coming,” she called, and with cold hands hid the paper among her things.
To Elizabeth’s great surprise, Julian was waiting with the ladies at the foot of the stairs. He bowed to her most formally and then grinned.
“Good morning, sister,” he called. “I understand we are to go to the shops. I could use your excellent advice, as I would like to have a new coat made.”
Katherine was so pleased to have Julian along for this outing that she barely allowed Elizabeth time to answer her brother before she overwhelmed him with fragments of at least three different questions and requests. Once again Elizabeth realized that Katherine’s single-mindedness was sometimes a boon: it provided her with time to think through awkward situations, and for that reason alone she should be thankful.
While Elizabeth’s enthusiasm for the expedition into the town was even less than it had been before, she did not mind the walk at all and she managed to hold a polite conversation with Mrs. Bennett as they moved along, thinking most of the time about her brother, and managing to keep thoughts of Nathaniel at bay. Now that she was in Johnstown, she had no idea how she would ever make her way to Barktown to seek him out at the Midwinter Ceremony. Elizabeth was only a little disappointed, and she reasoned to herself that it would be only a few days before she returned to Paradise, to her school, and to Nathaniel. It all seemed very far away and strange now. But real. Nathaniel was real, and what she felt for him was real. She was here because of him, and what she might be able to do for him, and for herself in the process.
Katherine had taken the arm Julian offered, and the two of them were far ahead when Mrs. Bennett took up a new topic of conversation which demanded Elizabeth’s entire attention.
“Your brother is kind to spend his morning with us,” observed Mrs. Bennett. “When he must have other business to attend to.”
There was a small pause, and then Mrs. Bennett surprised Elizabeth greatly.
“You must make allowances if Kitty seems sometimes overly … absorbed. She has suffered a quite crushing disappointment in the past year, and although she may seem to be insensitive, I assure she is just the opposite. She had hopes of Dr. Todd, until quite recently. Has she spoken to you of him?”
Elizabeth walked without answering for a moment, and then she began carefully.
“No,” she said. “Katherine does not speak to me of her personal affairs.”
“And Dr. Todd? Did he mention this to you?”
Elizabeth pulled up short, and found the older woman’s brown eyes steady and unapologetically inquisitive.
“I wonder why you think that Dr. Todd would speak to me of such a personal matter,” Elizabeth said. “I assure you there is no cause for him to do so, nor would I welcome such a cause.”
“I see.” There was a new tone in Mrs. Bennett’s voice, whether of relief or disappointment, Elizabeth could not tell.
“You see the Grant mansion,” Mrs. Bennett pointed out in passing. “What gardens they keep. You must come and see them in the summer. Mrs. Grant’s roses are the envy of all of us.” And then, with a small drop in tone, Mrs. Bennett took up her previous topic again: “Please forgive my forwardness,” she said. “I forget you are here so recently from England, where things are perhaps not so direct. But I do worry excessively about Katherine. Her mother was my dearest friend.”
Mrs. Bennett stopped suddenly and grasped Elizabeth’s arm. “Look,” she said with great animation, directing her attention across the road. “Mrs. Clinton is in town, do smile, do nod, Miss Elizabeth. The governor’s wife. I wonder what the Clintons are doing in Johnstown. They must be visiting with the Dubonnets.”
Kather
ine and Julian had turned back to join them, and Elizabeth had a moment to reflect on Mrs. Bennett’s sudden switch of topic. She wondered whether the lady was as flighty as she seemed, or if this was a calculated attempt to distract Elizabeth and to disarm her. She thought ahead to her conversation with Mr. Bennett, and hoped that he would keep the topic of her visit to himself.
It wasn’t until the contents of three shops had been inspected that Elizabeth was able to slip away and find her way to Mr. Bennett’s offices. Julian and Katherine were so much enjoying themselves that they were best left to Mrs. Bennett’s animated direction, and barely seemed to register her departure. She was let go once she promised to meet them at home for dinner, and with a great deal of relief Elizabeth made her way into the street.
Johnstown was a good-sized town with a great deal of business, and Elizabeth found it possible to lose herself in the foot traffic. This was the first time she had been on her own since leaving Paradise and she felt the pleasure of it. As they had spent very little time in any of the towns on their trip north from New-York, Elizabeth was interested in everything she passed, from the blacksmithy and tannery to the impressive homes of the town’s first citizens.
Mr. Bennett’s offices were in a street off the main business area. Elizabeth stood contemplating her errand when the door of a tobacconer’s opened and Galileo emerged with his arms full of packages.
“Miz Elizabeth!” he greeted her solemnly with a deep bow of his head, and then broke into a grin.
“Where have you been keeping yourself?” Elizabeth asked. “I haven’t seen you at all since we arrived.”
“Errands to attend to for the judge,” Galileo explained, holding out his packages as evidence of his industry. “The judge don’t care for town, you see.”
“Something I have in common with my father, then,” Elizabeth noted dryly.
Galileo considered Elizabeth with one eye squeezed shut, the wiry salt-and-pepper twists of his eyebrows meeting in a tumble over the sharp blade of his nose. “Are you ready to head on home?” he asked. “I can have the horses ready first thing in the morning, just you say the word.”
“That would be very good,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “But do let me check with Miss Witherspoon, and with my brother.”
“Huh!” Galileo’s frown spread across his face and then disappeared as quickly as it came. “I don’t think Mr. Julian ready to go just yet.”
Elizabeth considered Galileo, wondering how much information he was willing to volunteer about Julian’s whereabouts and his activities in the last two days. But it was getting late, and she cast a worried look toward Mr. Bennett’s offices.
“I have an errand,” she said. “But I would like to talk to you about … the trip home, later.” She took her leave from Galileo and had turned away when across the road a weathered gray door flew open with a bang. From the dark interior a terrific bellowing erupted, followed by the form of a slight man dressed in ragged homespun who fairly flew through the air to land in a hump in the road.
“Come, Elizabeth,” Galileo said briskly, taking her arm and trying to turn her away.
“But that man—” She pulled herself clear and looked more closely. Nothing had changed at all: people continued to make their way, ignoring the spectacle of a man lying in the road. The door he had come through was now shut. With an audible groan, the man raised his head from the snow and muck. He rose unsteadily to his feet and lurched off. His dark tangled hair covered most of his face, but not enough to disguise the copper gleam of his skin, the sharp bones, the sunken expression.
“Been drinkin’, hard,” said Galileo beside her. “Nothing you can do for him.”
Reluctantly, Elizabeth turned away. Then she stopped and considered. “Who could?” she asked. “Who could do something for him?”
Galileo shrugged, his own dark face suddenly closed and protective. “God knows,” he said.
Elizabeth’s first urge was to go and tell Mr. Bennett about the Indian, but she knew she must be careful to restrict herself to topics which would not arouse his suspicion. It would not do to complicate the situation, she told herself, standing on the doorstep of his offices, trying to put the image of the man in the road out of her mind.
“What’s the matter, Miz Elizabeth?” Galileo asked. He had insisted on walking her to her destination, and now waited on the curb. “Why you coming to see the magistrate?”
“There’s nothing the matter,” she said, trying to affect a calmer demeanor. “But I am worried about that man,” she admitted. “I know what you told me,” she said, before Galileo could list for her the reasons she should put the incident out of her head. “And I expect that you’re right. He wouldn’t welcome my interference in his affairs, either. I know that too without being told. Here,” she said, reaching into her purse. “Perhaps he won’t mind if it comes from you. Can you find him and make sure he has a warm dinner, today at least?”
“He’ll drink it,” Galileo said with a resigned look.
“Well, then, buy some cooked meat and give him that,” Elizabeth said.
Galileo nodded. “All right,” he said finally. “Can you find your way back to the Bennetts’?”
But Elizabeth had already turned away. She fluttered a hand behind her in farewell to Galileo, composed her face, and entered the offices of John Bennett, attorney at law and magistrate for the northern counties in the state of New-York.
Mr. Bennett appeared to greet Elizabeth as soon as the door closed behind her. His clerk had relieved her of her coat and hat and she found herself with a cup of tea in a comfortable chair in Mr. Bennett’s main office less than five minutes later.
“It’s not often we get such company,” he explained over her protests. “We must observe the amenities, or we may never see the like again.”
When Elizabeth had seen and admired the fittings in the office, and had described for Mr. Bennett the morning’s expedition to the shops and the hat his wife had bought, there was a moment’s silence.
“Mr. Bennett,” Elizabeth began. “Please do not think me disingenuous, but I do have a question of the law for you. I hope you will forgive me for not being more open with you earlier today, but it is quite a sensitive matter.”
There was a slight flicker of interest in the pallid blue eyes, and then Mr. Bennett’s face settled into a studied composure. He folded his hands on his desk in front of him. “I did suspect as much,” he said. “And of course I am at your service.”
Elizabeth glanced out the window into the road where the citizens of Johnstown moved about on their business. It could be a town almost anywhere, she thought. Midwinter snow trod into a gray muck, icy cobblestones, and spring so far off. With a shake of her head she focused her attention on the man before her.
“My father,” began Elizabeth, “has expressed an intention to execute a deed of gift in my favor.”
“Ah, yes,” Mr. Bennett said. “I am familiar with the document. I reviewed it for him.”
“Then perhaps I need not explain—” Elizabeth’s eyes scanned Mr. Bennett’s face. “I hope you will forgive my bluntness when I say that as I know no other person of the law to approach on this matter, I find myself compelled to trust you.”
“Ha!” Mr. Bennett’s laugh caught Elizabeth off guard, and she found herself smiling in return.
“You are an unusual young lady, if I may be so bold,” he said, drawing a handkerchief from the cuff of his linen shirt and touching it to his mouth. “But I take your point. Please be assured of my discretion. You may ask what you like, and if it is within my power, I will answer.”
Elizabeth stood up suddenly and walked to the bookcases which lined the wall. She ran a finger over the titles there.
“My father wishes me to marry.”
“Dr. Todd,” said Mr. Bennett.
Elizabeth’s shoulders tensed, but she did not turn. “You are better informed than I would have guessed.”
“I am sorry if I’ve offended you,” Mr. Bennet
t said quietly.
There was something in his manner which caused Elizabeth to trust him. She was not sure exactly if it was his willingness to be amused, or his honesty.
“You haven’t offended me. I’m not even greatly surprised, I must confess. Everyone seems to know more about this business than I do.”
“This is a small society, after all,” said Mr. Bennett. “We take as much interest in each other as any set of families in England.”
“Yes, I am coming to see that,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps you will understand my meaning, then, when I say that I fear Dr. Todd’s interest in me has more to do with the deed of gift than it does with myself.”
There was a knock at the door, and the clerk came in with a bow to Elizabeth to put a note on the table in front of Mr. Bennett. Elizabeth was quite glad to have this interruption, for it gave her an opportunity to gather her thoughts.
“Let me ask you, Mr. Bennett. Is there any way to secure a woman’s property for herself, once she is married? To keep her property for her own use, and independent of her husband?”
“No,” Mr. Bennett said, with his head inclined. “Not really. There is the possibility of trusteeship, in which your property would be vested in a man other than your husband—but even that would not stand up in every court.” There was a large volume on the table and he put one hand on it now. “Black-stone is quite clear on that matter.”
Elizabeth nodded. “That is as I feared.” She began to pace the room, her skirts swirling as she turned and then turned again.
“Very well, then,” she said, stopping in front of the table. “Once the deed of gift is signed, the property is mine until I marry. Is that correct? Then it transfers to my husband?”
“That is correct.”
“Could my father … change his mind? Ask the court to return the property to him?”
“Not unless there has been deception of some kind,” said Mr. Bennett.
“Could you be more specific?”
Mr. Bennett settled back into his chair, and with his fingers tented under his chin, he summarized for Elizabeth the conditions under which a father might petition for the nullification of a deed of gift. “But,” he concluded, “I have never heard of such a petition actually coming before the court in this part of the country. It would certainly be a scandal of the highest order.”