Past Destinies. Constance Ruth Clark

      Skipping into the house after grooming her horse and discussing breeding bloodlines with her uncle, Elizabeth stopped short at the sight of her aunt’s disapproving face.

      “Elizabeth, must you wear that improper attire?” Aunt Mabel shook her graying head.

      Elizabeth wore a pair of faded boys’ trousers which had once belonged to her uncle and a big old white shirt that puffed out around her. Her long, annoyingly curly blond hair was pulled back into a tight, practical bun on the top of her head, topped with a straw hat. She looked more like a boy than a woman, and no one would recognize her as the proper niece of John and Mabel Gates.

      “It’s easier to work in, Auntie.” She grinned impudently. “Besides, think of the wear and tear I save on my dresses!”

      “Well, I suppose it is practical for working in the stable, but I won’t have you eating supper at my table improperly attired. I insist you go upstairs and change before we sit down to eat.” Aunt Mabel was adamant. “Why your uncle ever encouraged you to wear men’s clothing, I’ll never understand. You are a lady, not a man, and it’s high time you remembered as much and started dressing the part!”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Elizabeth said with a sigh, feeling a bit deflated as she turned toward the stairway.

      Aunt Mabel was constantly airing her fears that Elizabeth would never find a husband. “Who would put up with a woman wearing men’s clothing?” she often asked. But Uncle John would laugh it off, saying that any man worth his salt wouldn’t care what she wore. So Elizabeth wore what she wanted.

      Had her aunt protested more, Elizabeth would have caved to her wishes, but Aunt Mabel wanted her to be happy. While she didn’t exactly encourage her dress, she usually didn’t nag her about it, either. Elizabeth wondered what had sent her aunt in a tizzy about her attire when she normally turned a blind eye.

      “Elizabeth, you have a visitor,” Aunt Mabel said. “That’s why I called you in early. I’ll entertain him while you change.”

      That explained Aunt Mabel’s manner. It wasn’t that she was asking her to change–it was how nervous her aunt seemed. She kept glancing back in the direction of the parlor as if their mysterious visitor would come out and catch Elizabeth not looking her best.

      “Who is the visitor?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

      “It’s Mr. Carver.” Her aunt rubbed the palms of her hands down the front of her dress. “And I’ll thank you to keep a decent tongue in your head when you talk to him. Now go up and put on your green lawn.”

      “Mr. Carver?” Elizabeth had a hard time keeping the dismay from her voice.

      Not again! The man wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently now he was soliciting her aunt’s help in his courtship. Well, it wouldn’t work. Jonas Carver was the last man she would consider. He was such a dandy. His hands were so soft she doubted they’d ever seen an honest callus from hard work. She could hardly respect a man like that, let alone allow him to court her.

      “Yes. Mr. Carver,” her aunt replied tightly. “It’s quite good of him to show such interest in you, really. You know he holds our property mortgage in his bank.”

      “I don’t see how…” Elizabeth began, but her aunt cut her off.

      “He’d hardly be inclined to put out relations during hard times, and you know how difficult this last winter has been on your uncle. Now go up and change.”

      Elizabeth closed her mouth against the protest she’d had ready and mounted the stairs instead. She did know how difficult the winter had been and had overheard her uncle telling her aunt how tight funds were. She knew her uncle would never think of ‘selling’ her to secure the mortgage, but she also knew that desperate times called for desperate measures. And her aunt was nothing if not practical.

      It just doesn’t make sense, she thought as she obeyed her aunt’s direction and changed into her green lawn dress. Why would he show such interest in me?

      She was still wondering as she followed her aunt into the parlor a short time later and greeted Mr. Carver. While she wasn’t warm toward him, she attempted friendliness while trying to figure out his motives.

      “Elizabeth, you look more beautiful every time I see you,” Jonas Carver said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

      “Thank you.” She sat down in a chair.

      She waited for him to seat himself as well, before asking him why he’d come. Jonas responded to her rudeness with a grin while her aunt did everything but hide her head in her hands.

      “Why does a man need an excuse to visit with a beautiful woman?” He smiled, and she wondered if a mouse spotted by a cat felt as trapped as she did.

      Elizabeth refused to allow his smile to charm her. She was more irritated then attracted by his manner–his whole attitude annoyed her. A half-hour later she’d managed not to disgrace herself and had held her tongue when she wanted nothing more than to tell him to go to the devil. It had become clear as the conversation progressed that he had come courting just as she’d suspected. Courting! Ugh!

      It wasn’t that he wasn’t handsome and charming. He was both, in spades. It was just…something…Elizabeth couldn’t put her finger on that made her so uncomfortable in his presence. As he bowed over her hand at the door, she fought to keep from yanking it back and running straight away to the pump to scrub it clean from his touch.

      “I hope I shall see you again soon,” he said before taking his leave.

      “Goodbye, Mr. Carver,” Elizabeth said, hiding her relief at seeing him walk out the door.

      Her aunt sighed as she watched him walk across the yard through the window.

      “He is a handsome man at that. It’s a shame you don’t find him more attractive.”

      “I wish I could like him,” Elizabeth surprised herself by saying.

      She knew life would be much easier for her family if she would just accept his suit. She couldn’t bring herself to do so, though, without genuine affection for him. Not to mention the nagging feeling there was something she was missing about his smile and the proprietary way he looked at her.

      “Oh well, perhaps with time,” Aunt Mabel said, dropping the curtain and turning toward the kitchen. “Run up and change for supper, dear. That dress is too fine for a family meal.”

      As she changed into her blue calico, Elizabeth thought about what the fortuneteller had said about her not knowing herself. Was it true? Maybe it would explain why she couldn’t get excited about a handsome man like Jonas Carver. Her aunt and uncle had never talked about her parents, only telling her they had died when she had been a baby. She decided she needed to ask her aunt about her parents again.

      Never one to put off something she’d decided to do, Elizabeth took the bull by the horns while they were finishing supper, and asked the question bothering her since seeing the old fortuneteller.

      “Aunt Mabel, can you tell me about my parents?”

      Aunt Mabel dropped her spoon, and then attempted to cover her nervousness by wiping