Governing Passion (22 page)

“Then we’ll have people to talk to,” Beth
said, nodding her thanks to Etta, who had finished her repair
work.

“And Louis will be there, too, remember.”

Louis LaFontaine was the leader of the
rouge
party, the Reform group in Quebec, who had joined in
an alliance with their Canada West counterparts. He had been
defeated in the Quebec riding of Terrebonne in the April elections,
but was about to run in a by-election in the fourth riding of York.
Robert Baldwin had won seats in both that riding and one in the
eastern part of the province. He had conveniently resigned the York
constituency in order to make way for Louis’ second attempt at
securing a seat in the new united Parliament that had opened in
Kingston in May.

“And his shadow, too,” Beth said,
laughing.

“Yes, I’m sure Gilles will be there.”

Gilles Gagnon was Louis’ secretary and
constant companion. They had come to Toronto from Montreal a week
ago to prepare for the nomination meeting and the subsequent
by-election. They were staying with Robert at Baldwin House on Bay
Street.

“There’s gonna be a shortage of ladies,” Beth
said.

“Then you’ll get to dance the whole night
through,” Marc said.

“As long as you don’t get to talkin’
politics.”

“No politics,” Marc said. “Not a single
word.”

“Oh, don’t you look lovely,” Etta enthused as
Beth twirled in front of the mirror.

“I look like a farm girl in a duchess’s
dress,” Beth said.

“There’s many a duchess who would like to
look like you,” Marc said.

Beth smiled, accepting the compliment.

“Now I gotta see to the little ones,” Etta
said, and started for the hall and the children’s bedroom, where
one-and-a-half-year-old Marcus Junior and two-and-a-half-year-old
Maggie were supposed to be asleep. She paused at the window and
said, “Donald has the horse and buggy ready for you.”

Donald Meigs was a neighbour lad who came
once or twice a day to cut wood, haul water and take care of the
Edwards’ horse. Beth herself insisted on taking care of her garden,
despite spending three days a week at
Smallman’s
, her ladies
dress shop and seamstress’s business on King Street near Bay. She
was a farm girl at heart, having run a farm by herself for several
years down near Cobourg.

“Well, I guess we can’t put it off any
longer,” Marc said, getting up and placing a shawl around Beth’s
bare shoulders. It was cool but pleasant September evening.

Beth leaned back against him. “Let’s go and
do some dancin’,” she said.

***