Edge of the Wilderness

Twenty-five


Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing . . .

—Proverbs 18:22

“Auntie Jane!” Timothy poked his head in the library door and hissed. “SHHHH! It’s a surprise!”

Jane looked up from her reading just in time to see Timothy’s round face wreathed in a smile. Then he giggled and disappeared. Frowning slightly, Jane returned to her reading.

Fanny Laclede came next, inviting Jane downstairs to tea. “I know it’s a bit early,” she said, smoothing her dark hair with a gloved hand. “But Richard and I have an engagement this evening, and we were hoping to speak with you about something.”

When Jane closed her book and stood up, Fanny said, “Perhaps you’ll want to freshen up. Richard and I—” She hesitated, then said quickly, “We might have guests.”

“I certainly don’t want to interrupt your entertaining, Mrs. Laclede,” Jane said, trying to hide the hurt she felt at Fanny’s intimation that her appearance was too dowdy for the Lacledes’ social circles.

“Oh, no. It’s not that. It’s just—” Fanny hesitated again, pursing her lips. “Oh, bosh. I’m no good at this.” She sighed. “There is a surprise, and you’ll want to look your best. Now don’t say another word. Just freshen up and hurry downstairs. We’re waiting.” She hurried away.

The idea of someone waiting on her sent Miss Jane into a flurry of activity. She rushed into her room and pulled down her best dove-gray walking skirt. The white waist she always wore with it was missing the top button, but she pinned a cameo over the space and hoped it looked all right. Looking in the mirror, she pressed her lips together with displeasure at the state of her hair. “Ah well,” she muttered, “it will have to do.” Her frizzy hair had been the bane of her existence since she was a girl, and there was no willing it into place on a humid day like this. She pushed a few pins into it and with a last adjustment of her skirt, a quick glance at the full-length dressing mirror in the corner, she headed out into the hall.

Rebecca and Timothy were waiting at the top of the stairs, their faces bright with excitement. They both looked behind them as Miss Jane approached, then back at her. When she reached the top of the stairs, cries of “Surprise! Surprise!” echoed up toward her. Before she could react, Meg and Aaron Dane were charging up the carved mahogany staircase. “Surprise, Miss Jane! Surprise!”

“Goodness!” was all Miss Jane could manage in the way of a greeting. She let herself be led down the red-carpeted stairs, across the foyer, and into the Lacledes’ opulent receiving room where Richard and Fanny stood to one side, smiling happily as they watched Gen and Simon Dane greet their friend. Elliot Leighton held himself apart until Miss Jane caught his eye.

“I never!” she said. “What—how?” She finally just laughed and shook her head as Elliot bowed low and kissed her hand.

“They’re married!” Meg said, painting to Gen and Simon. “And we’re on our way to Grandmother Leighton’s. And we stopped to say hello!”

Simon smiled at Meg and then looked back to Miss Jane. “I guess that about summarizes it,” he said. He motioned her onto the sofa next to Elliot. Miss Jane blushed and opened her arms to Hope. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me!” she said as Hope leaned shyly against Gen’s skirt, eyeing Jane carefully.

Reaching into her pocket, Jane smiled triumphantly and produced a peppermint. Hope grinned and threw herself pell-mell into Miss Jane’s lap. “Bribery,” she laughed. “It works every time.”

“Unka Lee!” Hope shouted, reaching up to pound Elliot on the shoulder.

“Uncle, is it?” Miss Jane handed Hope into Elliot’s outstretched arms, smiling when Hope grabbed a handful of silver hair and hung on.

And so began a reunion that was to last for nearly two weeks. The Lacledes insisted the Danes and Elliot stay with them. “It’s a half-empty albatross,” Fanny said of her parents’ mansion. “Having you here will relieve some of the stodginess.”

Early every morning Aaron walked the mile down to the riverfront, fascinated by the never-ending activity as steamships arrived and left, were loaded and unloaded. Richard was delighted at his interest and the astute questions he asked about the import business.

Meg and Hope, and Timothy and Rebecca, played together as if they had never been apart.

And Miss Jane and Fanny conspired to see to it that Simon and Gen had a real honeymoon. One evening a coach arrived and swept the unsuspecting couple away’ to the finest hotel in St. Louis. They were taken into a private dining room and served by a French waiter who began by being stuffy and ended by being completely charmed when the lady at the table addressed him as Monsieur, and pronounced the menu flawlessly. After dinner, the waiter slipped Simon the key to Room 215 and offered his felicitations.

When he bowed low and disappeared, Simon said, “Well,” and sat looking at Gen. He took a drink of water and fiddled with his napkin. “We’ve been on a train for an eternity, my dear. You must be exhausted.”

“I am a little tired,” Gen said. She slipped her hand beneath Simon’s.

They went upstairs and gasped when Simon unlocked the door to their room.

“I didn’t know things like this existed,” Gen said, stepping across the threshold and crossing the room to touch the velvet and satin drapes.

“We can’t stay here,” Simon said. “It’s—”

“It’s obvious Fanny and Richard can afford it, Simon. It would be rude to refuse their generosity” She sank onto the sofa before an Italian marble fireplace and sighed.

Simon stood by the window looking out. “You can see the river.” Behind him, the lights grew dim.

“I’ll look at the river tomorrow,” Gen murmured. She came up behind him and touched his shoulder.

He swallowed. “Genevieve. I should tell you—I’m—not very good at this sort of—”

“Sometimes, Reverend Dane,” she said softly, and reached up to stroke his beard. “Sometimes you talk too much.”



Elliot Leighton paced back and forth in front of the Laclede mansion for the better part of the morning before he managed the courage to go inside and ask for Jane. When she came downstairs, rumpled and not in the best of moods, he almost backed down. The meeting began very badly.

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said abruptly when she came in the door.

“Yes. I know.” She stood ramrod straight, holding her hands clasped before her.

“I’ve a meeting arranged with Senator Lance next month. He’s an old friend from West Point. I’m hoping to get something done on behalf of the Indians.”

Miss Jane raised her eyebrows. “Yes. I heard Reverend Dane mention it.”

“I’m hoping to get him to listen, since I’ve been west now.” He smoothed his mustache. “Eyewitness and all that. Of course I’m not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. I wanted Simon to go with me, but the doctors have said he shouldn’t travel. He’s not fully recovered yet—the last two nights notwithstanding.” Elliot cleared his throat nervously.

“Yes.” Miss Jane nodded. “He seems—fragile, somehow. I can’t quite put it into words. But he isn’t his old self.”

“He’ll be fine, they say. Just needs to be careful for a few months. Take care not to get chilled, that sort of thing.”

Miss Jane nodded. “Gen will see that he behaves himself.”

“I think they’ll be happy together. Don’t you? I mean—the age difference and all doesn’t seem to matter.”

“When two people are determined to make a marriage work, it usually works,’Miss Jane said vaguely. “At least that’s been my observation, limited as it is. And they have the children.”

Elliot muttered agreement and scratched his eyebrows. “Would you like some tea, Mr. Leighton?” Miss Jane said, obviously wondering when he was going to get to whatever point it was he had come to make.

“No,” he said abruptly. “No, I—I don’t need tea.” He motioned to a chair. “Would you sit down, please, Jane—may I call you Jane?”

Jane sat down.

Elliot began pacing back and forth again. “I have some things I need to say.”

“Obviously,” Jane said.

“First, I was wrong. About Indians. About a lot of things. And Simon tells me I’ve been wrong about women too. Women in general. And then one woman in particular—that is, you.” He stopped pacing and looked at her and grimaced. “I must sound completely mad.”

Jane nodded. “You do.” She smiled kindly. “Perhaps you are the one who needs to sit down.”

He felt like a puppy, guilty of breaking some household rule, and yet receiving its mistress’s kindness in spite of having been naughty. He sat down opposite her. After another awkward silence, he smiled weakly. “It’s—hard to know where to start.”

“Well,” Jane said, “you had started to say something about women.”

“Yes,” Elliot said. He ran his index finger along the metal hook, frowning. “It took me a long while to realize that the women I knew at home would never be able to look at me without thinking about this—this thing.”

“I’d say you have some very foolish women in New York, Mr. Leighton,” Miss Jane said quickly.

“You’re different.”

“Thank you. I think.”

Elliot took a deep breath. He looked at Jane with such desperation that she reached out and put her hand on his arm—on his left arm—just above the hook. And she did not withdraw it, but simply sat, looking at him with interest. No pity shone in her eyes, no sympathy. And in that one moment Elliot Leighton realized that he loved her.

“The thing is, Jane. The way you look at me—”

“I’m sorry if I offended,” Jane said and snatched her hand away. “I didn’t mean to be in the least forward—”

“Oh, stop it,” Elliot said quickly. Grabbing up Jane’s hand, he kissed it. “What I’ve been bumbling around like an idiot about is this, Jane: you don’t seem to care about the hook.”

“I don’t. It doesn’t matter.” Her heart skipped a beat or two when Elliot didn’t release her hand.

“You find me—attractive?”

Jane laughed softly. “Is the Mississippi muddy?”

Elliot searched her face as he said, “Miss Jane, will you go with me to Washington when I try to get someone to listen? Will you help me get aid sent to the Dakota? Will you be my partner in the effort to help our friends somehow? And, above all, Miss Jane, will you marry me?”

“Will I—what?” Miss Jane leaned back in her chair, eyeing him with a slight frown.

“You heard me, Jane,” Elliot said quietly. “Will you marry me?” He rushed ahead, “Because you find me attractive,” he said quickly. “Because we share an interest in helping the Dakota people. Because we are compatible. Because no one on this earth exasperates me as much as you. Because you don’t need a husband to make you happy. And,” he said, taking in a deep breath, “because I think I am in love with you.”

“Repeat that, Mr. Leighton,” Miss Jane said softly.

“What?”

“The last part.”

He leaned over and kissed her hand gently. “Because, Miss Jane, I believe I am in love with you.” He looked up at her, his blue-gray eyes warm with emotion. “We’ll test the theory on the train trip to New York. With Simon and Gen as chaperones.”

Miss Jane studied his face for a moment. “You know, Mr. Leighton,” she said carefully, “I’ve prided myself on being content. On making my spinster’s life count for Christ.”

“And it has.” He leaned forward earnestly. “But I’m thinking we could make our lives count even more if we worked together.” He groped for her hand again. “Like Simon and Genevieve.”

Miss Jane looked at him, at the beautiful silver hair, the strong jaw, the cleft chin, the purposeful blue-gray eyes. She allowed her heart to do at least two flip-flops before she said, “It wouldn’t do for my friends to think I’d just desperately thrown myself at a man after all these years.”

“You didn’t throw yourself at me, Jane,” Elliot said with an edge of frustration in his voice. “Anyone who thinks that doesn’t know you. Just come with us to New York. That’s all I’m asking. If you decide you hate me, you can run away.”

“All right, Mr. Leighton,” Jane said carefully. “I accept. We’ll try the trip, with the Danes as our chaperones, and see what we think. And if you decide you hate me, you can send me away.” Then she smiled. “But if you decide to keep me, Elliot Leighton, you must agree to marry me immediately. I hate long engagements and I’m not getting any younger.”