The Belle of Nauvoo - Book One

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Our adventure began the very next evening, January the fifth. I received a note from Emily via young Joseph, my cousin. It read: “Developments. It might interest you to know that J. has just been given a commission in the N. L. as aide to the G. and is here in the M. Would you care to join us for dinner?”

“Wait!” I called to young Joseph. Hastily I scribbled a note of acceptance for him to return to Emily. Then I hurried upstairs to put on my Christmas dress, for our campaign depended on my ability to distract Joseph Jackson that evening. Not to add that I just might see Lorin, too!

Lorin hadn’t come to see me because things were busy at the Mansion again. The day before, more trouble had developed. Once again there were comments by the police reported to Brother Law by some well-meaning person. This time Brother Marks had also been suspected. Were the police mad, suspecting the Nauvoo Stake President? (Though such traitors had come forth before. I could remember when the entire Whitmer family deserted us and many other friends had betrayed us.)

Immediately Brother Marks and Brother Law came to our house to see Father, who was known as an arbiter and a great soother of troubled waters. If anyone could settle a difficulty, it was Father; so all and sundry came to him with disputes and problems. This day was no different. All three men repaired to Uncle Joseph’s house. Uncle Joseph assured his neighbors that he did not suspect them to be the traitors and had not said so to the police.

However, that night the police on river patrol lighted a large fire for warmth, as it was a bitter night – five bricks in my bed! We could see the fire down the street in front of Brother Marks’s house. The next morning we heard that Brother Marks lay abed all night shivering with fear, wondering if he were the “Brutus” and thinking he’d be dead before morning.  Did you ever hear such a tale of a grown man? And we had thought him so sensible.

Mother couldn’t get over such a thing happening between the neighbors, and she was comforted only when Father came home from court and told her it was all a tempest in a teapot and not to worry. The imagined trouble once again was settled legally, so no one could ever in the future accuse Uncle Joseph about it.

And now, as the note implied, Mr. Jackson had been given a commission in the Nauvoo Legion. ‘Twas an event-filled day!

When my toilet was complete (not so elaborate as the previous time I had worn the dress), I donned a shawl and rushed to the Mansion, arriving just in time for family worship. Lorin was as delighted to see me as I was him. Though yet dressed in his working clothes, he took my hand in his and bowed over it in a courtly manner. His sister Lucy was much impressed and lifted her brows. I felt the veriest traitor to Lorin with my object of interesting another man in the back of my mind.

Lorin led me to a seat next to him on the velvet settee. Grandmother came in and took a chair. Uncle Joseph entered with Mr. Jackson and a Mr. Eaton. They were engaged in a debate about politics and hardly saw me. The rest of the household followed, the children scampering to claim their favorite seats upon Uncle Joseph’s lap or feet or leaning on his great shoulders. Those who were too late sat upon the floor or on the lap of their second most favorite adult. It was always thus with Uncle Joseph. I knew, for I too had once rushed to be first on his lap. Now that I was a young lady, I had other desires; and that day I had won my favorite seat – next to Lorin on the settee. It seemed, however, that I was to share this privilege, because his youngest sister, Mary, lost her race and crawled upon Lorin’s lap. She placed her little arms around his neck and held him tightly as if to ward me off. Perhaps she was wiser than I that night and knew I held the power to harm his heart, though in truth I did not desire to do so. That was my last wish.

We all listened while Uncle Joseph read to us from the Book of Mormon. The words fell from his lips like sweet drops of dew distilling upon our souls. To hear the words from one blessed to personally know those of whom he was reading brought a life and a love to the story that none other could give.