Surrender the Wind (19 page)

Before he climbed into the saddle, Seth turned to Sir Henry. “Sir, I wish to speak to you.”

“What is it? Nothing serious I hope. No call to arms?”

Seth drew Sir Henry aside. “I love your daughter, sir.”

A smile swept over Sir Henry's face. “You wish to court her?”

“I wish to wed her.”

Sir Henry shrugged indifferently. “You have my blessing. I shall ask the king to give his as well. Perhaps he shall call you both to court. You will have to get a new suit of clothes if he does.”

There he went, slipping away once more. Seth exercised great patience and compassion, and shook Sir Henry's hand to thank him. He mounted his horse and reached down. Juleah put her foot over the top of his boot in the stirrup. He drew her up to him. His arms went around her and she held tight.

Moonlight bathed the road and made the ride easy for the pair that traveled toward Ten Width. Juleah leaned back against Seth. They traveled on through the forest, beneath brooding, dark elms. An owl hooted and Juleah's hand tightened over his arm. He could have reined in his horse and turned her to him. Instead, he reined in his desire and relished the closeness of the woman he loved.

T
he following morning, a brisk wind drove in from the sea. Leaden clouds crossed the sky and threw long shadows over the land. A hired coach arrived by nine o’clock and made the journey bearable for the people within it. Soft, cushioned seats instead of saddles and shelter from wind and drizzle gave comfort. They passed whitewashed cottages, the square church belfry, and the crumbling Roman walls. Wheels churned along a road at the edge of the bluffs, above the sea, through the moors toward Wrenhurst.

Seth fixed his eyes upon Juleah. He sensed she could feel his gaze; and when she glanced back at him, he commented about the scene outside, the passing farms and fields, the beauty of the countryside. What he wanted to tell her was how beautiful she looked. The dark blue habit she wore fitted close to the curve of her waist. Its color heightened the ivory tint of her skin and the dark auburn tresses of her hair. He wanted to tell her that every time he gazed upon her a fire burned within. But he smiled instead and made light conversation. He told himself there would come a time when they’d be alone, and he’d tell her all that was in his heart.

“You say it is beautiful here. Is it like Virginia?” Juleah asked.

He shifted his gaze back to her. “In some ways.”

“You miss it? Home and your river?”

“I’ve enough here to keep my mind off it.” He smiled at the rush of scarlet that bloomed in her cheeks.

“You do not have horses like Jupiter, though.” And she returned a coy smile.

“No, but I will someday. Every man has dreams. Mine is to raise horses and, hopefully, many children.”

“You must first find a wife, my brother.” Caroline laughed lightly. “It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“A wife, that is true. But will she have me?” He looked at Juleah warmly.

“I have no doubt of it,” Caroline replied with a broad smile. “Speaking of marriage, Michael Bray has asked me to marry him.”

Juleah turned to her with an embrace. “How wonderful!”

Caroline looked over at her brother. “Do you approve, Seth? Do we have your blessing?”

“I gave it long ago,” he said. “He's a good man, and you deserve to be happy.”

A tear slipped from his sister's eye. “It is good of you to say so, Seth. It means the world to me that you would call Michael your brother. We wish to be married quickly and quietly in the little church near Ten Width.”

The carriage climbed a hill and made a sharp turn to the right. Irregular stone walls bordered each side of the road. The horses slowed and were brought to a halt in order to make way for a boisterous flock of geese. A girl with flaxen hair guided the snowy fowl along with a reed. She swung it to and fro, and once she managed to steer them to the other side the carriage moved on.

By the time the sundial reached ten of the clock, the coach slowed and drove into Wrenhurst. Seth got out first. When he reached the door a servant opened it. They waited in a large room, furnished with comfortable chairs and a settee, the windows set wide open to allow the morning breeze inside. A clock on the mantel ticked away the minutes, adding tension to excited nerves. Footsteps echoed out in the hallway. The door swung open and he entered the room dressed in black linen and gold trim, with gray silk stockings and buckled shoes. Beside him stood his stately wife, Lady Barbara Kenley. The moment their eyes rested on Caroline, they paused.

Caroline, Juleah, Claire in the background, and Seth between the women, bowed and curtsied.

“Dear Lord,” cried Lady Barbara. “It is Caroline, Charles. She is as lovely as the day our son brought her to meet us.” This was not a moment for formality, for introductions. Her ladyship opened her arms and embraced her daughter-in-law. “Dear girl, you have suffered so. I am sorry that we did not help matters.”

With his brow furrowed and his eyes fixed upon his son's first and only love, Sir Charles stepped forward. “Can you forgive this old man? Can you pardon my stubbornness, my prejudice?”

A sob escaped Caroline, and she hastened to him. He kissed her cheek. She lowered her head, held his hand against her cheek. “How can I thank you both for looking after Nathaniel? What must I do to repay you?”

Sir Charles looked down at her. “Repay me? Dear girl, I should have done something, written to someone at Ten Width. Here you had to grieve all these months due to my stupidity.” He turned to a door at the far end of the room as it opened. “Ah, here is the lad now. Nathaniel, come greet your mother.”

Hand-in-hand with his nurse, the child's flaxen curls tumbled over his head. His large green eyes gazed up at the four adults, then rested upon his mother's face. He held out his chubby hand. Caroline knelt down and stretched her arms out to him. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she gathered her son to her bosom, held him close, and kissed his cheeks.

Seth stood behind her, and Caroline turned. “Oh, look at him, Brother. Is he not the finest boy you have ever seen?”

“Indeed he is, Caroline.” Seth crouched down and tousled Nathaniel's head. Next to him, Juleah wiped her eyes.

“Give Juleah an embrace, Nathaniel,” said Caroline, and he tumbled straight into her arms.

Sir Charles cleared his throat and ordered his serving girl to prepare rooms for his guests. “The best rooms, my girl. Fresh linens, you hear? And open the windows to let fresh air inside.”

Caroline glanced up at him from the floor with her eyes glistening with tears. “Oh, Sir Charles, we cannot intrude upon you a moment longer.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Your journey was a long one. I insist you all stay. It will break my heart if you refuse.”

“May my maid stay?”

“Of course, she may.” His eyes drifted over to Claire as she waited in silence in the shadow of the doorway. “What's your name, girl?”

She lifted her lowered eyes and curtsied. “Claire, sir.”

Sir Charles held his hand out to Caroline and lifted her up. “We must have time together—get to know one another better. The nursemaid will show you and your girl to Nathaniel's room. You may stay with him if you prefer.”

She nodded. “I would be very pleased. Thank you, Sir Charles.”

She gathered her son's hand, and with Claire a step behind her followed Lady Barbara out of the room.

Sir Charles turned to Juleah. “I assume this is your wife, sir?”

A smile tugged at Seth's mouth. “No, Sir Charles.”

“She ought to be. She is pretty enough.”

Juleah blushed.

Seth drew beside her. “May I introduce Miss Juleah Fallowes of Henry Chase?”

“I recognize your name, Miss Fallowes. It is a pleasure.” Sir Charles bent over and kissed her hand.

“My friend has suffered,” Juleah said. “Because of you and Mr. Braxton, she is happy again. What a glorious ending to a very difficult time of mourning.”

“Not all things are concluded, Miss Fallowes,” said Sir Charles. “May I ask, did you pack a gown suitable for an evening promenade?”

The corners of Juleah's mouth gently lifted. “I did, Sir Charles.”

“And Caroline, and you, Mr. Braxton, did you pack suitable clothes?”

Seth nodded. The navy blue suit he recently had tailored would do nicely.

“Excellent.” Sir Charles slapped his hands together. “The vermin who caused this trouble will be flushed out. For I have a plan. Lady Barbara and I are to play host come this Friday evening. It shall be a large gathering. Invitations have been issued to all my acquaintances and to those who are in some way connected with the Braxtons. After we dine, I shall have you read over the guest list, in case I left anyone out. There is something about a country affair that brings secrets to light. I believe we shall learn more by way of it.”

He escorted them upstairs and requested they come down after they refreshed for an early dinner. He left them in the hallway outside the room for Juleah.

“Sir Charles is determined,” she said. “I hope his plan works. I am not sure what he is expecting, though. Would not those who planned all this stay away?”

Seth moved closer, lifted her hand in his, and played with her fingers. “Maybe, but I think they’ll show. Curiosity, if anything, will draw them out.”

Her eyes, wet and glistening, enticed. “Be careful, Seth.”

“Do not worry about me.”

He drew her into his arms and kissed her.

The next afternoon, the household gathered out on the lawn for lunch. The day grew quite warm, with a blue sky speckled with wispy clouds. Bird songs echoed in the woodlands, and it seemed as if since morning the buds on the trees had burst out into lime green, newly born leaves. Seth drew Juleah aside. “Care to take a walk around the grounds?”

She looped her arm through his and they strolled within sight of their hosts. A lily pond reflected the blue sky and the lush grass surrounding the water. Small white butterflies danced in midair before them, and a blackbird darted into the cattails and sang.

“There is a mockingbird that sings on moonlit nights back home, down by the river.” Seth broke off and listened to a blackbird in silence. Its wings spread wide and it flew off as they drew closer.

“I have been meaning to ask you something.” Juleah's hand pressed into his arm. “Were you able to have that talk with my father? You know, the day he was walking up on the ridge?”

Seth's eyes smiled at her. “Yes. But I cannot tell you what we discussed, not until later, when I know it is the right time.”

She did not question why. “Tell me then, will you stay here in England?”

He stopped, and looked down at her. “It all depends.”

“On what?”

“Many things.”

A cloud passed over the face of the sun, and the light faded from her eyes, as did her smile. “I do not think I could ever leave England.”

Seth frowned slightly and looked away toward the hills beyond Wrenhurst. Confused by her admission and whether she truly meant what she said, he grew silent and grave. Yet, within him, his love for her rallied. No matter what things she said that pricked him or caused him to doubt, he had sworn within himself to make her his wife one day.

Therefore … a man shall leave his father and his mother … and cleave unto his wife.
This truth spoke a quiet promise into Seth's heart, that there’d come a time when he would hold her fast. He only had to be patient.

Coming up behind them, one of Lady Barbara's housemaids called to Juleah. “Post has arrived for you, miss.” And she handed over a sealed letter.

The girl dipped and went her way, while Juleah looked down at the uneven handwriting that sprawled across the paper. She unfolded it and skimmed over the words. Seth stepped back to give her a moment, but when he saw the rose in her cheeks fade away, he grew concerned.

She glanced over at him. Her mouth parted, and her eyes blinked. She heaved in a breath, and then gave him a quivering smile. “It is of no importance.”

“It has troubled you. Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and a lock of her hair fell forward. “For some reason, Edward Darden thought he needed to inform me that he has accepted Sir Charles's invitation. I don’t understand why he thought I should care.”

It suddenly occurred to Seth, that he might have a rival. He watched her step to the bank of the pond, fold the letter back up, and toss it into the water. A moment and it sank away. He’d never know exactly what Darden had written to her.

A
t sunset, after a sun-drenched Friday when Wrenhurst's servants had decorated the house with juniper garlands, and the cook had completed all the dishes, Sir Charles stood in front of his marble fireplace looking over the people that crowded his ballroom. Above the mantle hung a portrait of King George, and beside Sir Charles stood Seth.

Music mingled with the chatter of guests. Some argued politics, excited voices raised above the others. High-pitched laughter and exclamations from the less-refined ladies overtook them. Powdered hair, black patches against white faces, the stark contrast of rouge—they stood grouped together as lifelike porcelain dolls.