Before the Scarlet Dawn (31 page)

Her breathing convulsed. “Darcy. I want to see Darcy.”

“No,” he said, and stepped out of the room.

She could no longer cry or speak. A cruel silence seized her while she listened to the floorboards outside her door creak under his footsteps. In despair, she curled up in her bed and hugged his pillow. In tears, she resigned to obey him in hopes of keeping him.

Downstairs Hayward shut the door to his study. He raked his hands through his hair. She had killed all feeling he had had for her, and he struggled with the idea of ever forgiving her.

He slumped into a chair and stared at the empty hearth. Crushed, he pounded his fist into his palm. At that moment he wondered what kind of man he had become—hard, bitter, and as much a sinner as the next. He had picked up the first stone and flung it at the adulteress. But he was justified, he thought. It was his right to seek revenge, wasn’t it? How could he turn the other cheek?

By the striking of the hour, he fell asleep in the chair, a wine glass empty in his hand. At dawn, the chirping of birds outside the window woke him. The orange glow of morning shone through the glass. Fiona was in the kitchen knocking pots about, as she prepared breakfast. The scent of coffee filled the room, and he wished for some, but his mood kept him away. Instead, he went out to the stable, where he saddled his horse and brought it out to the front. Looping the reins through the iron ring, he hesitated, then went back inside and up the stairs.

Curled up with her doll, Darcy rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “My darling, you must get up,” Hayward told her. “It is a beautiful morning and I’m going to take you for a ride. You like my horse, don’t you?”

She nodded and pushed herself up on her elbows. “Yes, Papa. But can I have something to eat first?”

“I will take you to the inn down the road, and we shall eat there.”

He pulled clothes from the wardrobe, unsure which were right, but decided what he had would do for now.

The door down the hallway opened. Eliza came and stood in the doorway. Her eyes were swollen and red, and she looked as if she had not slept. She looked at her daughter and smiled weakly. “You are awake, Darcy. Here, let Mama help you dress.”

Hayward flung out his arm and moved her back. “Do not touch her.”

Eliza looked startled. “I must help,” she said, her eyes filling.

“No,” Hayward said.

Eliza glanced at the pile of clothes on the bed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking her away—away from you.”

She grabbed his arm. “No, Hayward.”

“You have no say in it.”

She began to weep. “But why?”

“You are unfit. I will not have her raised by you.”

Frantic, she pulled at him. “You mustn’t. Darcy is mine.”

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Darcy said, her eyes wide.

Hayward pushed Eliza away, and she tumbled to the floor. Darcy let out a cry. At that moment, Fiona rushed inside, and Eliza reached up to her. Fiona drew Eliza into her arms and stared angrily at Hayward.

“Put Darcy’s clothes in my saddlebag,” Hayward said. “Do as I say, Fiona.”

“No, Hayward!” Eliza cried. “I beg you. Do not take her from me!”

“You do not deserve to be her mother.”

“She is my child.”

“Not anymore.”

“You cannot do this. Please, Hayward . . .”

Hayward lifted his daughter into his arms to carry her out.

“Darcy! Darcy!”

“Mama!”

Eliza scrambled to her feet and reached out to grab her daughter. Hayward pushed her back, and she fell against the wall. The panic and the noise caused Darcy to cry, as her hands too reached out to take Eliza’s.

Hayward hurried down the stairs to the front door. He flung it open, and it smacked the wall with a loud thud. Fiona followed behind him with an armload of clothes. Then she paused and tossed them down. “I cannot do it.”

“You are to obey me, woman.” Then he saw Sarah peer around the edge of the door. “You. Get out here, and pick up these clothes and put them in my saddlebag. If you do not, I will take my whip to you, girl.”

Sarah stepped outside, lifted her head, and narrowed her eyes. “Why must you be so cruel, sir?” She bent down and gathered up Darcy’s clothing. “Can you not see you are hurting your own child by how you treat her mother?”

“Silence your tongue, Sarah. Or I will silence it for you.” He set Darcy astride his horse, then climbed up behind her. Sarah stepped back and looked up at him with a mix of pity and scorn. Hayward leaned down to her and said, “I have plans for you as well.”

Sarah folded her arms and turned back to the house. Eliza twisted out of Fiona’s arms and rushed down the steps past her. “No, Hayward. Do not leave me. Do not take her away.”

He moved his horse so she could not reach the child. “I will be overnight at the inn. Then in the morning, I will . . .” he could not finish.

She stood shaking in her despair, pale and ashen, shivering in her snowy white chemise and bare feet. He kicked his horse’s sides, and it trotted down the long tree-lined lane. With her servants close beside her, Eliza watched Hayward and Darcy disappear into the morning fog.

29

A
n inn stood alongside the river road, where a good woman lived with her children and her innkeeper husband. Hayward put Darcy in her charge, while he drowned his sorrow—over pints of ale—for two days.

He sat in a corner of the room, sunlight warming his flesh but not his soul. If only he could strike something, to expel the pain. The first time he had seen Eliza after his return to Havendale, she had stole his heart and soul. He could finally admit it. He’d resisted her, shunned her, and driven his feelings deep. But her willingness to give up everything for him caused his love for her to grow. He had given up his inheritance for her, had left England to begin a new life with her in the Colonies. When war had separated them, he had been in agony, but strong enough to keep her from knowing it.

They had been swept away by love, vowed to live and die for it. Never in his widest imaginings had he ever thought anything like this could happen. He wished he had seen the possibility when he saw the way Halston looked at his wife.

Though he still loved her, he could not shake the hatred he now felt. How could he forgive and forget, and move on without looking back? Rage flooded his being, and he steeled himself. He wrestled with God all that day and into the night.

He that is without sin let him cast the first stone. Forgive and you will be forgiven.

“How can I forgive her?” He buried his head in his hands.

Later, when all were abed, the innkeeper knocked upon Hayward’s door and handed him a letter. His hands shook as he opened it; there he saw his wife’s name, and stains from her teardrops. She said she loved him, begged his forgiveness, and pleaded for him to return with Darcy. If he did not come home, she promised her broken heart would be the death of her.

“A woman waits outside on the porch, Mr. Morgan,” said the innkeeper. “I expect she needs an answer from you.”

Hayward nodded and went to pull on his boots. He looked over at his daughter as she slept soundly beneath the window. He convinced himself he was in the right for separating her from Eliza. What had Darcy done to deserve such a mother? How could he allow Eliza near her again, and risk her growing up tainted by her mother’s immorality?

Outside, he found Fiona sitting on the top step with her chin cupped in her hand and her foot tapping away on the wood plank. She looked up at him, and her aging eyes caught the light from the lamp that hung near the door. His shadow fell over her, and she stood.

“You were not afraid to travel the road at night, I see.”

“Only when the owls hooted at me and I saw their eyes within the trees. The moon is strong and the road well marked. I had to come. It was my duty.”

He shrugged. “To me or to Eliza?”

“To my girl, of course. It is urgent I speak with you.”

“You should have sent Sarah.”

“No. I am closest to Eliza, and you need to hear this from me.”

“Go home. Tell her no amount of begging will change my mind.” He turned to leave.

“She’s been crying since you left. Refuses to eat or drink.”

Arrested by the urgency in Fiona’s voice, he hesitated. “I imagine so, but that is to be expected. Still, it won’t change what has happened.”

Fiona dared to touch his sleeve with her fingertips. “She loves you, and her heart is crushed. I saw how broken she was the day Reverend Hopewell came to River Run with news you were dead. She was out of her mind with grief. If anyone is to blame, it is the man who told your half brother you had been hung. Such a lie forged out of greed for a few coins and hate for the Patriots has caused many to suffer. And then there is Darcy. You cannot take Darcy away from her mother. You must consider how much that will hurt the child, and what it may do to her future.”

Hayward felt his jaw tighten, along with his fists. “I can do as I wish. It is not your place to give me your opinion on anything.”

Instantly, Fiona set her mouth and put her hands firmly on her hips. “Is that so?”

“Yes that is so, and you will mind your tongue, woman.”

She shot him a fiery glare. “I will, but you know what is in my mind to say. You just don’t want to hear it because it convicts you.” She lifted her chin and swung away from him. “She will be dead in a day or so, then you will be rid of her like you want.” She walked down the steps to the mare.

Hayward followed her. Gritting his teeth, he turned her around to meet him. “Do you believe that? Most likely it is all a pretense to bring me back.”

“When a woman’s heart has been broken, it can lead to her end. Will you forgive her?” A cloud passed over the moon, and the night deepened. The wind rose and thrashed through the trees, causing Fiona to shiver.

Hayward stood firm, unmoved by her entreaty. “Do not ask that of me again.”

Fiona’s eyes filled. “Have compassion. Come back to River Run. You know it is the right thing to do. She would never have fallen into such temptation if she had known you were alive.”

He turned away and stood in silence, thinking of what to do. In his breast pocket was Eliza’s letter. He laid his palm over it, as an idea formed in his mind, along with the steps he needed to take.

“All right. I will come back, and I will bring Darcy with me. River Run is mine. I do not know what I was thinking to take Darcy away from her home. Go inside and wake her, put on her shoes and gather her things.”

A smile sprung onto Fiona’s face, and she hurried inside the inn. Darcy rubbed her eyes when she woke her. Hastily, Fiona slipped on her small leather shoes and fastened the buckles.

“I’ll tell Mama about the hoot owl that was outside the window, Papa. It called and called, and I thought it was telling me to go home.”

Hayward strode to the door. He waited for her to scamper to him, take his hand, and walk out with him to his horse. He lifted her into the saddle, and decided to walk alongside while Fiona rode the mare.

No words were spoken the entire way.