The Revenant (10 page)

Chapter 12

T
HE WEEKS FLEW BY AFTER THAT
, the days full of work rather than ghostly encounters, and somehow Olivia and I never found a favorable time for the next séance. Each of us was distracted by the burdens of teaching as we drew nearer to the end of term. I’d established a fragile authority in most of my classes, but it took everything I had to stay one step ahead of the students. While Olivia diligently kept on top of her marking, I allowed the papers to stack up next to my desk, dedicating the bulk of my time to preparing each day’s lessons.

At night, when I stared at those untidy piles of paper, I told myself it was easier for Olivia to manage her workload. She did not teach writing. Olivia had lab work, botany sketchbooks, and other such things to score, but surely none of those assignments was as time-consuming to mark as an essay.

However, I was never too busy for the Saturday trip to town. And by late November, my panic over what to wear to the Bell Christmas party had mounted to epic proportions. On one cold and rainy day, when few girls dared to venture outdoors, Olivia and I chaperoned a group of seniors on a trek to Foster’s. It was a shivering trek of dampness, but each of us needed something for the party. Once there, I made my way to the ready-made items. Olivia kept to my side as I perused the scanty selection of dresses.

“This is a very pretty color,” I said. “I adore the cape ruffle and puff sleeves.” I held a smooth wine-colored wool fabric in my hands, barely resisting the urge to place it against my cheeks. “It’s a good price, don’t you think?”

Olivia tilted her head. “It is handsome, indeed. But you cannot wear it to a supper.”

“Why not? I think it’s very fine!”

“It’s a tea gown, Willie. It’s meant to be worn only in one’s own home.”

“Oh, bother!” I let go of the material with a sigh. “What should I do, Olivia? There are plenty of blouses and skirts to be found ready-made, but no dresses—at least none that I can afford. I don’t have the money to purchase a tailored dress, nor do I have the skill or time to make one myself. What’s to be done?”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t waited so long, we could have worked on a dress together? I’m a decent seamstress.”

“Now I shall have to wear a shirtwaist and skirt to a formal gathering and be laughed at by Fannie Bell’s entire family. Who would have thought I’d need such fine clothes for Indian Territory?”

Olivia flinched. Then she turned her back to me, pretending to inspect a pair of gloves. I clutched at her arm.

“Oh, Olivia! Please forgive me. Was that a rude thing to say?”

“It seemed rude to me,” she murmured.

“It’s just that I’ve been constantly surprised since I got here … surprised at how …” I trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“Since you got here, you’ve been surprised at the heights of civilization achieved by the lowly Cherokee people?”

I bit my lip. “I suppose you have every right to be sarcastic. But you must understand that your people are nothing like what I’ve read or been told about Indians.”

“There are many different tribes, each with its own traditions and customs, you know. And each tribe has its own idea of what it means to be civilized.”

“I’m trying to understand.”

She looked at me for a moment and finally smiled again. “I have an idea for your gown.”

Over the next few days, Olivia and I worked together on altering one of her dresses, shortening the length and taking in the waist and bust. During those sewing sessions in her cozy little room, I learned much about her. Olivia’s family lived comfortably, if not richly, as farmers. Her grandparents had come to Indian Territory by choice and not as part of the forced removal in the middle of the century. Her parents had been married twenty-one years and still tolerated each other quite well, and she had two younger brothers who worked the farm.

“I love teaching. It’s a fine feeling to be so independent,” she said one night. “But I sometimes wish I could teach without leaving my family. My brothers seem to grow a foot every year and soon will be men. They change so quickly during the term that we’re practically strangers when I finally see them. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

I hoped my nod was convincing.

“I always longed for a sister. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

What should I say? I didn’t remember Angeline speaking of siblings, but was that because she didn’t have any or because she was so stuck on herself she never thought to mention them? I decided on the former. Only children were much more likely to be spoiled.

“I am all the daughters of my father’s house,” I finally said. “And all the brothers, too.”

Olivia quirked an eyebrow. “I suppose that means you are an only child. Which one is that?”

“
Twelfth Night
, of course.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “But did you wish for siblings?”

I snorted. “Not at all. I hated the thought of sharing Papa’s attention with others. I preferred having him all to myself.”

She nodded slowly, then her eyes brightened. “Willie, would you like to come home with me for the Christmas holiday?”

My mouth fell open.

“We don’t live in a fancy house,” she said quickly, “but it’s homey, and Mama is a first-rate cook. You’d adore the animals, Willie. We could go riding if the days aren’t too cold. I have the sweetest little mare, so plump and cheerful.” She paused, biting her lip. “I do go on, don’t I? You must be planning a return to Van Buren for the holiday.”

“No!” I blurted. “I mean, I planned to stay at the seminary for the break. I have so much marking to do, you know.”

“You could bring your work with you,” she said shyly.

“Oh, Olivia, I would love to come.”

“Wonderful!” she breathed, and then grinned so broadly that I saw every one of her pretty teeth.

A week later, I found myself staring in the mirror at a young lady attired none too shabbily for an evening party.

I wore no jewelry but had splurged on a pair of long white gloves and a set of decorative hair combs. A curly fringe was all the rage among the students, but I still could not bring myself to cut the front of my hair, for Papa never could abide the fashion. I did, however, take special care in pinning the greater part of my hair very high and then braiding separate strands to weave around the knot. The combs provided much-needed sparkle.

But my dress was the true triumph. Two years old and yet still very fine to me, it was made of light blue silk with velvet and lace trim at the neck and bodice. The sleeves were elegant puffs that fell almost to my elbows. An umbrella skirt, trimmed at the edge with velvet and lace, fell to the floor and swished behind me as I walked.

With one last glance at the mirror, I pinched my cheeks and bit my lips. Then I lifted the black cape from the bed and placed it on my shoulders, delighted to finally be able to wear my stolen finery.

I met Olivia downstairs in the vestibule. She looked stately in a flowing cloak that covered what I knew to be a satin gown of deep crimson. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, the thick knot cleverly decorated with sprigs of holly. I took a deep breath and sauntered toward her, clutching at the trim of my cape in anticipation of her envy.

Her eyes widened. “Willie, you are going to freeze in that thing! Isn’t it a spring cape?”

I blushed. “I don’t know. I suppose it might be.”

“Didn’t you hear that we’re riding on the wagonettes to the Bell house? Those canvas flaps will barely keep out the cold night air. Don’t you have anything warmer, like the coat you bought last week?”

I shook my head. “It’s too cheap and plain. I’d rather be cold.”

“Maybe I can wrap part of my cloak around you.” She took my hand with a gentle laugh and pulled me toward the door.

Had I not already been shivering with chill upon our arrival, I would have trembled at the grandeur of the Bell home. Olivia told me the house was built before the war, back when the Bells owned slaves and were one of the richest families in the territory. Still, I wasn’t prepared for the stately white dwelling with the pedimented gable and columned porch—a style much like the finest plantation homes in Columbia, Tennessee. It was the sort of home Papa always dreamed of owning.

Two young negro men in plain serving garb rushed forward to help us out of the wagons and up the steps to a porch brightly lit with lanterns. Another man opened the door for us, and I couldn’t help but gasp when Olivia and I walked into a grand entrance hall decked with fragrant greenery and candles. We were greeted by Mr. Bell, a tall, gray-haired man of stately bearing, who stood next to his wife, a petite woman with porcelain skin. I could see something of Fannie in Mrs. Bell’s face, but the mother’s fading beauty was more delicate. Fannie’s dark hair and high cheekbones bore the stamp of her Cherokee father.

Larkin stood next to his mother, looking handsome and pompous in his finely tailored clothes. Fannie, however, was breathtaking. I couldn’t help admiring her white evening gown, embroidered with a thread that sparkled, her tiny waist made tinier by a tightly cinched corset.

“You look lovely, Fannie,” said Olivia, echoing my thoughts.

“How wonderful to see my teachers in all their finery,” cried Fannie. “And Miss Adair’s dress looks quite becoming on you, Miss McClure. How clever and economical of you to make it over for tonight.”

Larkin snickered, and I blushed in dismay. Olivia quickly murmured our gratitude to the Bell family and then pulled me to the side, making way for the next group to greet the hosts.

“Don’t pay any attention to her,” she whispered. “Only someone spiteful would judge you for wearing my dress, let alone comment on it. You look wonderful.”

I took a deep breath, banishing the echo of Fannie’s words from my head, and smiled brightly at Olivia. “I am ready to see the house.”

Olivia led me into the double parlor, where the partition had been opened to create one large room illuminated by two sparkling chandeliers. Fires roared in two fireplaces decked with greenery and red ribbons. Several tables were laid with china and silverware.

The male students, dashing in their fine suits, clustered together and smiled at the girls. My pulse quickened as I searched for Eli Sevenstar’s face among them.

I could not hold back the heavy sigh when I didn’t find him. I looked about the entire room, scrutinizing each group, but did not see him. He had not come. Now I wouldn’t see his expression when he beheld me in Olivia’s fine dress. There would be no opportunity to speak to him. In truth, there was nothing left to look forward to.

“Is this where we shall eat?” I asked Olivia, gesturing limply at the tables.

“No, this is where most of the students will take their supper. Let me show you the dining room.”

I felt ill at ease during the meal, for Olivia was seated far away from me and I was placed between a shy teacher from the male seminary and Dr. Stewart. The teacher seemed quite old, nearly thirty, and as an algebra teacher had nothing interesting to say. He stuttered a few words before lapsing into pained silence, and I had little desire to coax him back into conversation. The doctor, on the other hand, turned to me during the first course. His friendly blue eyes put me at ease.

“I must visit Lucy Sharp again tomorrow. I trust she is resting properly? You haven’t given her too much schoolwork, have you?”

It was the first time I’d seen him smile. When animated with humor, his narrow face was even more handsome. I smiled back, feeling a pleasant flutter in my stomach.

“We haven’t burdened her overmuch,” I said, hoping to sound ladylike and clever. “She was a healthy girl before the accident, so I’m sure her leg will heal quickly enough. It’s her mind I have concerns about.”

His smile faded. “What do you mean?”

I considered his earnest face and wondered how much to tell him. Miss Crenshaw had not trusted the doctor with the full details of the accidents, but when I looked in his eyes, I felt sure he would keep our confidences. “The dreams, the sleepwalking, the little accidents—they’re all blamed on a … 
phantom
,” I murmured. “And it’s not only Lucy who’s losing sleep over it. They all think Ella Blackstone has come back to haunt them.”

The doctor shook his head. “I knew Ella.” His eyes softened. “She was a sweet girl. Even if I believed in ghosts, she’s the last person I would imagine coming back to haunt her schoolmates.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “I was assigned her old room, you know. Sometimes—late at night—even
my
imagination gets the best of me.”

“Take heart, Miss McClure. Once Miss Sharp is up and about, her nightmares and delusions will cease. As for the rest of the girls, their holidays spent at home will cure them of this ridiculous fear of phantoms.” His eyes twinkled. “There aren’t many ailments of mind or spirit that can’t be cured by Mama’s home cooking.”

“Of course,” I said, chuckling to hear those quaint words spoken in his clipped Northern accent. “I am much reassured, Dr. Stewart.”

I would have been glad to talk more with the doctor, but for the remainder of the meal, his attentions were focused on Fannie Bell at his right. I supposed they knew each other well, being brother and sister by marriage. But when I caught glimpses of Fannie’s face, it seemed to me her coy smile and high color did not arise from sisterly affection for the young doctor.