Before the Scarlet Dawn (36 page)

A hint of spring’s promised arrival soon lingered in the air, and the fields that surrounded Fairview were lush green and scented with scythed grass. On one such day, Eliza sat in a sunlit room penning another letter to Hayward. She knew it would take months to reach him, but she had written two other letters before and never received a word in reply. She hoped he would have read the letters she enclosed to Darcy. Darcy had to know she still loved her and missed her with all her heart, that her mother had not abandoned her.

In her first missive to him, she wrote rapidly and with emotion, asking him why he had deceived her. No matter what had happened, they were man and wife in God’s eyes, and should be together until death would part them. She wrote the second with more constraint, but begged him again to send Fiona with Darcy to her, that a girl needed her mother, and to send Sarah as well if she desired a new life. She had discussed this ardent request with Mr. Brennan first, and he had agreed.

So now, the third letter lay before her, and she held the pen above the paper, searching for words that would persuade him. What more could she say to Hayward that would soften his stony heart? A seed of bitterness had rooted deep within him.

A fox out in the field barked and caused her to look up. From the window, she watched it run toward the woods and disappear within them. Then her eyes shifted to the end of the lane. A woman, carrying a hefty carpetbag and wearing a gray cloak and wide-brimmed hat, walked with hurried steps toward the house.

Perhaps she has an appointment with Mr. Brennan and thinks she is late. But he is away. Then it must be a friend of Mrs. Hart’s.
She looked down at her letter, then back up again.
She reminds me of Fiona.

“Most likely she is in need of work, Roscoe. I hope Mrs. Hart has something for her to do. She is only here part of the time.” She stroked the ears of the orange cat that sat on the edge of the desk. Roscoe blinked his green eyes and licked a paw.

On the carpet, Ethan had spread out his father’s atlas and stretched out to study it. “I cannot find the Potomac, Miss Eliza. I see the Hudson, though.”

“Look further down the map, Ethan, to Maryland. You will see the Chesapeake.” She kept her eyes fixed on the cloaked woman.

Ethan chirped. “There is the bay, and here is the
Po . . . to . . . mac.
I think I should like to see that river someday when I am grown. Do they have horses there?”

“Of course.”

“And do they have farms for breeding?”

“Yes.”

“I read that George Washington had a grand horse named Blue Stockings. I do not think King George had a warhorse like the president’s. I prefer the American quarter horses and Arabians. I would like to own an American quarter horse someday.”

Eliza continued to stare at the woman, who paused a moment, set her bag down and looked as though she had stopped to catch her breath. She lifted her bag again with a heave-ho attitude and walked a bit quicker. Then, with a start, Eliza dropped her pen. The cat leapt from the desk almost toppling the inkwell. Eliza stood. The realization of who the woman was hit her. Surprise pulsed through her, and she moved around the desk, closer to the open window.

By now the woman had reached the house, and Eliza looked down at the top of her hat. “Fiona?” she called out, giddy with joy. “Fiona, is that you?”

The woman stretched her neck back and looked up at the window. A broad smile swept across her face and her eyes brightened. She dropped her bag and cried out, “Eliza, my girl! I’ve come. He sent me. Couldn’t stand me a minute longer.”

With hurried breath, Eliza charged from the window, out the door, and down the staircase. She pulled open the front door and ran out into Fiona’s arms. They embraced, laughed, and wept tears of joy.

“Mr. Hayward said he no longer needed me, that he couldn’t stand my nagging ways,” Fiona said, speaking rapidly. “I badgered him day in and day out about you, when you were coming home, when he was going to sail to England and bring you back. He would not answer, so I hounded him until he told me it was I who had to go to England, not him.”

Eliza squeezed Fiona’s hand. “I begged him to send you. I have missed you so much. But how did you know where to find me?”

“Your letters said you were at Fairview. Mr. Hayward knows of it and shoved the directions in my hand as I was going out the door.”

Fiona paused and looked into Eliza’s eyes. Then she gently placed her hands on Eliza’s face. “I know what he did, my girl. He told me. I cannot tell you how long I stayed on my knees praying for you. But all shall be well, won’t it?”

Eliza looked past Fiona to the lane as if she thought Darcy would suddenly appear. “Darcy? He would not let you bring her?”

Fiona’s smile faded. “He would not. He has sent her to live with William and Mari Breese. He said it is best, for Darcy has five cousins, all girls.”

“Is she healthy and happy?” asked Eliza.

“Healthy as can be. Happy too. But she asks for you all the time.”

“She is young. You know, Fiona, in time she will forget me. Come inside.”

“Whose house is this?”

“My employer’s.”

Fiona gasped. “You are a maid?”

“No, a governess.”

Saddened over Darcy but happy to have Fiona, Eliza put her arm across the woman’s shoulder and drew her inside the house. Ethan stood in the foyer staring, and when Eliza introduced Fiona and explained who she was, the boy welcomed her to Fairview.

“He’s quite the little gentleman,” Fiona said.

“Indeed he is. His papa, Mr. Brennan, is out taking his daily walk and will not be back for an hour. I’ll see you settled in the room next to mine, and when he returns we shall speak with him.”

“He may not let me stay, Eliza. You must be prepared for that. I can find work nearby. As long as I can see you, that is all that matters.”

Ethan turned to Eliza. “May I go down to the creek, Miss Eliza?” He held up a jar. “I want to catch minnows for Roscoe.”

“Yes, but be back within the hour.”

Despite Fiona’s concerns, Eliza lifted the hem of her gown and led her upstairs. Her quarters were at the far end of a long corridor, and there were several empty rooms in the great old house. They talked for the next hour about all that had happened.

Fiona sat on the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap. “Mr. Hayward is so changed. He is not the man you wedded but has grown coarse and sullen. And he has given in to drink. I have to say, I am glad to be far away from him. He became cruel toward Sarah, working her to the bone. I would have brought her with me, but she left River Run. She did not say where she was going, only that she was called away. I wished Mr. Hayward had allowed me to bring Darcy. But he would have none of it, and insisted she was better off where she was.”

Distraught, but endeavoring to be strong, Eliza looked at Fiona. “Do you believe she is?”

Fiona pressed her lips together. “Hmm. I do, considering the circumstances. Believe me when I say she is happy with the Breese family. I went to see her before I left and saw her romping in the yard with the girls, giggling and rolling on the ground like happy angels. And Mr. Breese and his wife are very kind to her and treat her as if she were their own.”

“But she is not their own. She is my child.” Eliza gripped her arms as if she were cold. But sunshine warmed the room. “I should go back. I can speak to the Breeses—surely they will return Darcy to me.”

“And you would go where, my girl? You have no home there. You would be destitute, have to find work in a town. Darcy could suffer, don’t you see?”

“I could bring her back here.”

“I wish you could. But Mr. Hayward would stop you, and you could face prison for the attempt. It would cause more harm than good. I know you love Darcy with all your heart, and that you put her well-being above your own. Give this to God to work out. Somehow, it will.”

“As much as it grieves me, as much as it breaks my heart, I will heed your advice, Fiona. But I promise, I shall not die until I have seen my daughter again.”

“Oh, my poor girl.” Exhausted from her journey, Fiona pressed her hand against her forehead and sighed.

“Poor Fiona, I should say.” Eliza kissed her old guardian’s cheek. “You rest now. I love you as dearly as if you were my own mother.”

Fiona settled back, and Eliza drew a quilt over her.

Later, when Mr. Brennan returned, Eliza brought Fiona downstairs. Lightly she knocked on the door. Told to enter, she drew Fiona in beside her. Mr. Brennan looked up and took off his spectacles.

“Who is this?”

“Fiona, sir. Remember, I told you about her, the woman who helped raise me.” With her hand in Fiona’s she urgd Fiona forward. Fiona gave him a little curtsy, which was as much as her knees would allow.

Brows raised, Brennan stood. Eliza glanced at Fiona and saw a stunned look in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks. Perhaps his burn scars alarmed her, or his age. At forty and nine most men had grown sons. By this time, Eliza had grown accustomed to his appearance.

“As you see, sir, Fiona has come all the way from Maryland—to remain with me, if you would allow it.” She went on to tell him all the news Fiona had brought. “If she cannot stay, perhaps you can refer her to another household in the area so that she may work nearby?”

He held up his hand. “Eliza.”

Eliza stopped talking and pressed her lips together.

“I fired Mrs. Hart.”

“You did?”

“Yes, this morning. She was slack in her duties, and I caught her stealing from the larder. I’ll not tolerate thieving, especially when there is no cause. Her husband makes a good wage, and they have plenty. She had no remorse, offered no apology when I caught her red-handed with a sack of flour in her arms after she had left the house and was heading home. So I am in need of a housekeeper.” His eyes shifted to Fiona. “Do you accept the position?”

A bright smile burst onto Fiona’s face. “I do, sir. Thank you.”

“Eliza, you may settle Fiona in any of the upstairs rooms near yours. Afterwards you may show her around the house.”

Eliza turned to Fiona, and even though it may have shocked Mr. Brennan to see someone of Eliza’s rank embrace a servant, she did so.

She looked over at Brennan. A quick smile lifted his mouth, and his eyes glowed warm while he gazed at her. At that moment, it became clear. Mr. Brennan loved her.

34

W
ith the sober winter past and spring a triumphant mistress over frost and cold, May Day had come to England. A local fair was announced, and Mr. Brennan informed his son’s governess that he should like her and Fiona to accompany him.

“I’m counting on buying Ethan a riding pony and would value your opinion,” he had told her the evening before while she read to him by the fire.

She looked up from her book. “But I know little of horses. Perhaps one of your neighbors could be of help.”

“An excuse on my part. You and Fiona could use a day’s outing. You have not left the boundaries of Fairview since you came here.”

“Fairview has been a sanctuary for me, sir. I have found peace here.”

“Yes, but do not make it a prison. You must get out in the world. Besides, Ethan will be greatly disappointed if you do not come with us. You have set a bit of money aside, have you not? You should buy something special for yourself. There will be a lacemaker and a milliner there. Perhaps a new hat?”

“Perhaps.” She set the book on the table next to her. “I am worried, Mr. Brennan, that with so many people gathering there someone might recognize me. Then I’d be questioned, and what am I to say? That my husband tricked me into returning to England?” She hung her head. “I would hate to speak of it.”

“The possibility of you meeting anyone from your past is remote.”

“I know, but what if I do?”

“You owe no man or woman an explanation. What has happened to you is between you and God. You have nothing to fear.”

Impressed by his sensitivity as well as his power of persuasion, Eliza smiled. She could not turn him down, especially when he spoke to her with such wisdom and looked at her with his eyes full of anticipation.