Before the Scarlet Dawn (12 page)

“Glory Alleluia!” Bursting across the lawn came a barrelchested man in dingy work clothes and a tricorn hat. “Mr. Hayward, you’ve come home at last, sir. And with guests?”

“No, Addison. This lady is my wife, and your mistress. Remember what I told you?” Hayward took Eliza’s hand as she stood beside him. “Greet her properly.”

Addison slapped his hat against his chest and bowed. “Welcome to River Run, mistress. I wish you and Mr. Hayward much joy.”

She thanked him with a gentle smile. Then his eyes shifted to Fiona, who stood a few paces behind Eliza. “And may I ask, sir, who this lady is? My mistress’s sister, perhaps?”

Eliza smiled at Fiona’s giggle, but she saw Hayward glower. He did not like flattery from servants, even the sincere kind given from one to another. Surely Addison meant no affront by it, but only to make Fiona feel at ease.

“No, this is Fiona Goodall, my wife’s serving woman. She will be living in the house with us.”

Hayward walked on with Eliza, and as she let go of his hand and hurried ahead, she fixed her eyes on the stones of the house. They changed to deeper, more variegated colors as twilight fell. “The windows are more than I had counted in my dreams,” she said over her shoulder.

In her haste, she failed to notice the slight dip before her. Her ankle turned as she stepped into it. She lost her balance and ended up on the ground. Hayward hurried forward and crouched down in front of her with his arms reaching out. “Are you hurt?”

She felt the heat of embarrassment rise in her face, and she thrust her skirts down past her exposed calves. “I do not believe so. Just a twist, I think.”

Hayward looked concerned. “Here, let me help you up.”

Fiona rushed forward. “Dear me. Oh, my girl.”

“I am all right, Fiona. Do not worry.”

Addison looked stunned. “I meant to fix that. I’m sorry, Mrs. Morgan.”

“No need to apologize, Addison. I should have been more careful and watched where I was going.”

“You need to unload our horses.” Hayward looked at Addison with a reprimand. “Take them to the stable, rub them down, water them, and give them plenty of oats.”

Addison nodded and sprinted off.

Eliza shook her head. “Oh . . . It is just like me to ruin a moment such as this.”

Hayward put his arms beneath her, and she locked her fingers around his neck. “You have ruined nothing. I shall carry you the rest of the way.” He lifted her into his arms.

“Ice, sir,” Fiona said. “Have you any hereabouts? My girl needs a cold compress.”

“I am uninjured, Fiona.” To Eliza, Fiona’s voice drifted afar off as she looked into her husband’s face. A lock of his hair fell over his forehead, and she moved it back. He gazed into her eyes, and she felt weak and longed to be behind closed doors in his arms. He carried her up the steps onto the porch, and on to the front door. She ran her fingers over the brass plate affixed to the stone, dated 1732.

“Who built this house, my love?”

“A wealthy English adventurer, so I am told, who wished to conquer the wilderness. He died childless, with no family. So he had no one to pass the estate on to.” He pushed the door in with his boot and carried her inside. Silver shafts of sunlight poured through the front windows and crossed the floor.

“Well?” He paused inside the doorway. She scanned the foyer with its pale plastered walls, broad staircase, and fireplace.

“It is beyond what I imagined.” She kissed his cheek, and for a moment thought she saw a glimmer of love flash in his eyes. But it faded. Somehow, she would change all that and break through his hard exterior.

He stepped further inside, and she rested her head against his shoulder. “I can see why you wanted a wife and children to fill your house. It is too large for one living alone. The foyer is twice the size of the parlor in the vicarage. You can put me down.”

“Your ankle is swollen. Let’s not risk it. Here’s my study.” The room contained only a desk and chair, with near-empty shelves hugging the walls beside a window that faced the fields. “You will help me acquire enough books to fill my library?”

“Yes, of course, I will.”

“You do know literature, I should hope?”

She gave him a playful scowl. “I do. And I am well versed in Latin and religion as well.”

“Anything besides all that?”

“Yes. I am keen on poetry.”

He gazed into her eyes. “Hmm. I am not surprised. Poetry is for the romantic soul.”

Leaving the study, he carried her from room to room. Eliza was enjoying this. A mishap had turned into good fortune. Because of her fall, Hayward had carried her over the threshold and through the house. She kept her fingers locked behind his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against her hands.

Fiona followed at an acceptable distance, and Hayward looked over at her. “The kitchen is the rear of the house, Fiona. We should like coffee. You will find all you need in the larder.” With a quick dip, she hurried off.

Hayward took Eliza upstairs to a room bright with sunshine. “This is our room. If it does not please you, tell me. Perhaps different curtains or a change in the wall color is what you would like. You have only to ask for what you need, and I shall see to it you have it.”

“I like it just the way it is. And what can we see from the window?”

“The river. Here, I will show you.” He set her down, strode to a pair of French doors and opened them to a balcony. He lifted her again, and took her outside. Below and beyond, through a break in the virgin woods, the Potomac flowed in a haze of magenta light, slow and peaceful as she imagined it had for a thousand years. A warm breeze caressed her face, scented with the wet earth, forest, and field.

Gladness filled her. Praise seized her heart. “I should kiss you well, Hayward, to show my gratitude.” She touched his cheek with her fingertips and guided his lips to hers. Gently and lovingly she kissed him, then moved her mouth away.

“You are beautiful, Eliza.” He held her close and brought his lips near hers. But before another kiss could happen, a clamor at the door drew them apart.

“Mr. Morgan, Eliza had a terrible fall. She needs to rest her ankle.” Fiona set the tray down and wrung her hands like a worried mother. She hurried to the bedside and propped pillows against the bolster. “Do you ail, my girl?”

“I am fine, Fiona. The fall was not as terrible as you think.”

Hayward carried her over to the bed and set her down. “Perhaps it is best you yield to Fiona’s intuition. Besides, we have had a long journey and you should rest. I have business to discuss with Addison.”

He poured coffee into a cup and drank it down black. Then he stepped from the room and closed the door behind him. Eliza reached for Fiona’s hands. “I shall be happy here,” she said, squeezing them. “And see how attentive he is?”

Fiona wiggled her mouth and tucked a pillow beneath Eliza’s swollen ankle. “Attentive as a husband should be, my girl. But I shall bless the day I see that loving glow in his eyes every time he looks at you.”

11

N
ews came downriver of the Indian massacres along the Blue Ridge Mountains that spread as far north as the Hudson River Valley. Hayward assured Eliza the Indians would not come this far east of the enclaves. Nonetheless, he taught her how to prime and shoot a musket. She had become quite good at it, and it pleased her how impressed he looked each time she hit the target, even if it was not dead center.

She worried those nights when she heard his horse and the hollow sound of hoofbeats fade as he rode off. The gentlemen in the area met in secret, and she prayed for his protection. The events that were unfolding in the Revolution occupied his mind and she felt ignored, but she understood. His life in England was over, and he considered himself to be American. Subjugation to his father had left a bitterness in his soul, a desire to live free. He had come home in the early hours of dawn, weary and spent, yet raging with patriotic zeal. She allowed him to rant, pacing like a restless panther, and then helped him off with his boots.

Eliza shuddered at the thought of war and what kind of suffering it could bring, especially to the people in towns along the coast. Boston already greatly suffered under the tight fist of tyranny. Hayward and she had only been wed such a short time, and to be separated from him was too much to consider.

One balmy night, she knelt before him, clasped her hands around one of his boots and pulled it off, then pulled off the other. “My love, you look troubled.”

He leaned his head back against the chair. Beads of sweat glistened over his forehead, and a damp strand of hair clung to his throat. “I have not told you what the men in the region are discussing.” He drew loose his neckcloth. “But after our meeting tonight, it is important you know.”

She sat back. “It sounds serious. Tell me, won’t you?”

He leaned forward and looked down into her eyes. “I have made a decision. I will take an oath to fight.”

A sharp chill rushed over Eliza. She stared back into his eyes and realized nothing would change his mind. She placed her hand on his knee. “I will go with you.”

“No. It would be too dangerous.”

“We would be together.”

“You would see death, Eliza, and wounded men, some dying in pools of their own blood. No, I want you here. Do not ask me again.” He stood, stretched his hand down to her, and helped her to her feet.

“Other women will follow their husbands. Who else will do the cooking and mending, or tend to their husbands when they are sick, or care for them when they are wounded?”

“That is for the lower classes to do, not the wives of landed gentlemen like myself. I can tell you, Mrs. Washington and Mrs. Adams will not be following their husbands on the battlefields or to Philadelphia. They will be looking after their husbands’ properties in their absence. You are mistress of River Run, and you will oversee it while I am gone.”

She threw her hands over her hips and frowned. “To say a genteel woman cannot accompany her husband in camp is a ridiculous rule.”

“Need I tell you, I am your rule and law?” he said, his tone gentle.

“No, I am reminded of it daily. Can you tell me you will not long for me—miss me? Can you not bend this time?”

“I would be compromising my principles. You will obey me and stay here at River Run.”

She clenched the sides of her gown. “I will worry myself sick over you, and miss you terribly.”

He drew off his waistcoat. “I will not leave you alone here without a man. Addison will stay . . . to protect you and Fiona.”

Her mouth dropped open with a start. “Protect us? But you said the Indians would stay away.”

He turned. “And I believe that is true. But there may be British soldiers and a few stray Indians that wander this far into the wilderness. You cannot be too cautious even when the possibility of danger is slim.”

The thought of Redcoats stomping over River Run, Indians lurking in the woods nearby, and she without her husband, made Eliza frown. Despite Hayward’s assurances, she imagined what the Indians would do to her and Fiona if they were to attack their home. And she feared what English officers would demand of her if they set foot on her doorstep. Yet she raised her face and said, “I am British. Surely no English soldier would harm me.”

“As long as you say you sympathize with them and support the King, and show hospitality to the officer in command, they will treat you well.”

Eliza bit her lower lip. How could he, knowing the risks, leave her? “I hope you are wrong and that no soldiers from either side shall come anywhere near River Run. If they do, I shall be certain to write to you and tell you of it.”

“Never mind what I said. Put it out of your mind, Eliza. The fighting will stay well to the east and north of here. I should not have said anything. Now you will worry and do your best to make me feel guilty for it.”

Unable to forbid angry tears from coming, they welled in her eyes, pooled, and slipped down her cheek. “I will not speak of it again, Hayward. Just promise me that you will come back.”

His long sigh drew her gaze. “Where else would I go? River Run is mine. You are mine. Nothing will prevent me from returning, except death.”

A moan escaped her lips, and she leaned into him. “Do not speak of death, Hayward. It frightens me, especially when there is so much for us to live for.”

“There are some things worth dying for, Eliza. Liberty is one of them.”

She lowered her eyes to hide her disappointment. “Perhaps you cannot promise you will come back to me, but I can promise I will be here waiting for you.”

He did not look at her, but nodded. Her lips parted to speak, but the words did not come. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. She felt him breathe out. She had to put it all in the Almighty’s hands and rely solely upon Him. But she could not help but yearn for the mortal closeness and protectiveness of her husband.