Chapter Nine

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Chapter Nine

Three evenings later a cotillion was held at the Mansion to relieve the tedium of January, and I was able to see for myself what effect the loss of the race had upon Joseph Jackson. I feared he would return to his pursuit of Eliza. Once again I donned my best dress and Christmas collar and arranged my tresses in English ringlets.

The dance was well attended, and while not so well decorated as the party on Christmas Day, it was graced by the music of the Quadrille Band.

I danced first with my Lorin, and secondly with Joseph Jackson. So, Mr. Jackson was determined not to forsake me! That was good. However, Lorin’s friends, on witnessing Mr. Jackson’s continued interest in me, contrived to take him away at the close of our set of dances on the flimsy pretext of reading a letter from the Whig candidate for the Presidency of the United States concerning redress for the treatment of the Mormons in Missouri. Not that I was concerned any less than anyone else in Nauvoo about regaining our lost property and bringing the wrongdoers to justice, but it was a social evening! I thought the timing of their concern to be highly inappropriate. Men!

How was I supposed to help Eliza when all of my male friends were working against our cause? They were destroying our plot, and I could not tell them to stop. I could not even confide in Lorin.

Lorin felt free to confide in me, readily admitting to the mutual scheme to abscond Mr. Jackson. I knew not whether to feel gratification or exasperation. But I could not stay mad at Lorin for long, seeing how delighted he was to have me to himself. So, after a few moments of reproof, I consented to be his partner once again.

Of course Lucy winked as she passed me with her partner, causing me to wonder if the plan was hatched by the boys or if it were the machinations of the mind of one Lucy Walker! She was most anxious to have me in the family and quite capable of it. Probably it was a bit of both.

I enjoyed two dances with Lorin before the boys came back with Mr. Jackson. They appeared to be on the best of terms and carried on a jolly political debate, during which the boys each in turn partnered me. My feet barely stopped moving before they were dancing again. I had no opportunity to refuse my any partners or to debate their intentions. At length their behavior aroused the suspicions of Mr. Jackson, as he was quite crowded out despite his name being placed on my dance card. I could see that he was beginning to take offense. Concerned lest he mistake their actions as a representation of the behavior of Mormons, I took the opportunity to lecture each of my partners on charity towards the gentiles.

Thumping my partner on the shoulder with my fan, I said, “Brother Whitney, you cannot tell me that all of you young men are this anxious to dance with me. I will not accept that explanation.”

Horace Whitney affirmed, a bit too casually, “No, none of us care to dance with you. I’ll admit it. We’d rather dance with the other girls.”

I stopped moving. “How dare you say that?”

Brother Whitney stopped also. “Lovina, make up your mind. First you are angry because we are giving you a whirl, and now you are angry because we aren’t. You can’t have it both ways.”

“I think you are all behaving despicably,” I declared.

“We are, aren’t we?” he said with a laugh.

After that I determined to refrain from dancing at all, and I sat down in a chair on the sidelines. Mr. Jackson immediately brought me a glass of water and an apple tart. To make up for the ill treatment he had received at the hands of Lorin’s friends, I smiled most warmly upon him and invited him to take the seat at my side.

“I would be honored.” He threw back the tails of his coat and sat.

It seemed that all of the efforts to separate us had come to naught, for I was quite out of charity with all the young men but Mr. Jackson and would not look at them. He seemed all the more determined to make my acquaintance.

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