Surrender the Wind (23 page)

She set the candlestick on the table next to their bed. The brass clock on the mantelpiece chimed out the hour. She paused to listen to the musical sound it made, while she pulled down the coverlet. The door drifted open. Seth came inside, shut it, and proceeded to pull off his waistcoat.

“Ah, have you seen the moon?” She opened the drapes wide to let the moonlight pour in. It bathed the room soft blue. “Is it not lovely, Seth?”

He joined her at the window. Wrapping his arms around his wife's waist, he stood close behind her. His breath brushed against her neck and she sighed.

He whispered in her ear. “Doubt thou, the stars are fire. Doubt, that the sun doth move. Doubt, truth to be a liar. But never doubt, I love.”

It pleased her that he, a Virginian rebel, had memorized the beauty of Shakespeare's verses. Melting with longing, she turned to him. He took her into his arms. She reached up and pushed back a lock of hair that fell over his brow. “I will never doubt your love, not for anything in the world.”

He brought his lips to hers and she strained against him. Love rose within each heart. He lifted her, and her feet dangled above the floor. Holding her, he kissed her, turned with Juleah toward their bed, and took his bride away from the window.

W
ill and Claire strolled side-by-side on their way home from the farmers market, a half hour's walk down the main road. The forest seemed dark and brooding beneath a leaden sky that promised rain. Will paused, pressed his hand against his mouth, and yawned. Claire smacked his shoulder.

“You haven’t heard a thing I said, have you?”

“Sorry, Claire. Can’t we talk of something else other than woman things? Let me have a go. I’ll tell ya ’bout that new filly I saw in the market that I mean to talk the master into buying.”

“He already has a horse.”

“But the mistress doesn’t.”

“That's true, Will. Then you must tell him.”

“Aye, I will. You know, the squire's an excellent judge of horses. He told me he wants to raise thoroughbreds in Virginia someday. If he goes, we should think of going too. I hear Virginia is a grand place to raise a family.”

Claire quit her stroll and stared at Will. “What's this about a family, Will? You got a maiden I don’t know about?”

Will stared back at Claire, with a blink of his eyes. “No, you silly lass. I’ve been meaning to drop a hint.” He leaned up and down on his boot heels.

She giggled and waved her hand. “Ah, go on.”

“I’m fond of you, Claire.”

“Fond? Is that all?”

“Would it help if I told you, you make my knees weak?”

“Hmm, it might. But a lass wants to hear more than that.”

“What if I said I love you? Would that do it?”

She touched his shoulder. “You love me?”

“Since the first day I laid eyes upon that sweet face of yours.”

“You think, Will, I might marry you?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“You haven’t asked me proper yet.”

Dragging off his hat, Will went down on one knee. “I’m asking, Claire. Will you be my Mrs.?”

“Oh, Will, you’re the only lad I’ve ever had eyes for.” She pulled him up, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. “Yes!”

Yelping, Will swung Claire around. When he set her feet back down to earth, he looked deep into her bonny eyes. “I’ll be giving you my betrothal kiss now, with no objections from you.”

Claire lifted her face, eyes closed. He kissed her well, but with gentleness.

She let out a long sigh when he drew away. “Ah, you do kiss nice, Will.”

“I’ll tell the squire we’re to wed, then I’ll tell him about that filly.” Will smiled broader than Claire had ever seen.

“Ah, so many weddings and people making merry these days, Will. I may only be eighteen and you over twenty, but we know what love is.”

“I agree with that, my girl.”

“What a nice present a mare would make for the new mistress of Ten Width.” Claire held Will's hand and strolled on.
“I can see them riding over the hills together and into town to visit folks. I’m glad he married her.”

Will stopped in his tracks. “Hush!”

“Ah, what now?”

He put up his hand to quiet her. “I heard something.”

Leaves and twigs lying thick on the forest floor crackled like icicles that broke underfoot. The pair turned their eyes in the direction of the noise. From the woods shot a pair of ravens. They cawed, their feast interrupted. They spread their wings wide and flew off into the hemlocks.

A chill went through Claire. She reached over and dug her fingers into Will's arm. Will removed her hand and motioned for her to stay where she was. He took four paces forward, craned his neck, and sank back with a gasp.

Claire moved closer and peered over his shoulder. “What's wrong?”

“Don’t look, Claire. It's someone on the ground.”

Claire stepped forward and her eyes followed the direction of Will's stare. “It's a woman.”

“Right ye are, lass.”

“What's she doing?”

“By the look of them birds, I’d say nothing. I think she's dead.”

Claire gasped. “Oh, God rest that poor soul.”

Will approached the body. He stopped short, and gazed at what was concealed under drifts of leaf and fern. The arms stretched out as if on a cross, and a tattered dress fanned out above the ankles. The woman's white cap, a blatant contrast against the dark leaves, sat awry upon her head. Fragile light drifted through the tree limbs overhead, dusty, silent as the grave, and played over the gray face and unseeing eyes. Above, a crow squawked and flapped its wings.

“Be gone!” Will shouted with a wave of his arm, shooing off the irritating bird.

“She's dead for sure,” whispered Claire. “Oh, Will, Hetty Shanks is dead.”

Will put his hands upon his knees and bent down to have a closer look. “For days, I’d say. Ah, it would’ve been a shame if the birds had gotten her face.”

Shivering, Claire looped her arm through Will's. “Perhaps she got sick and collapsed.”

Will shook his head. “I suspect foul play.” Will drew aside Hetty's mobcap and turned her head. The mobcap was stiff and black with gore. Her throat had bruises the size of silver sovereigns. The temple and ear were dark with blood. It matted her hair and made the strands stiff and tangled.

“No, you mustn’t touch it,” Claire cried.

“Hush, my girl. I know what I’m doing.” His fingers shook, as he drew shut the gaping mouth and eyes. The horrible stare was hard to look on.

“Ah, Claire. I know for certain she didn’t succumb to anything natural. This is murder.”

“Murder you say? Why’d anyone want to murder Hetty? What could she have done to deserve that, Will?”

“I don’t know for sure, lass. But I heard she had something to do with Miss Caroline's little lad. Have you ever looked upon a death such as you see now?”

“No never—and never murder.” She gagged and stepped away. Sobs gurgled in her throat.

Will hurried after her. “I wish you had listened and not looked, Claire.”

“What should we do now?”

“I’ll stay here. You take the path back to Ten Width and tell the master what's happened. Tell him to come right away.”

Claire glanced back at Hetty's cold, twisted face one more time. She hurried to leave, out of the woods and along the sun-dappled path. And then she ran.

The path widened the closer Claire got to Ten Width. She stopped, looked down the hill, and caught her breath. There stood the house, the brick washed with dew and morning light as if an ornament chiseled from an artist's hand. With her sleeve, she wiped the sweat off her face and moved on.

She rushed down the hilly path. The neigh of a horse caused her to glance up a few yards ahead where a rider pulled rein. His tall, black horse shook its wiry mane and looked at her with wild yellow eyes.

“Captain Darden,” Claire said with a start. She wished to get past him without saying more. But his horse sidestepped in the road.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, Claire? Why aren’t you at Ten Width attending your duties?”

Claire clutched her hands together. She did not think it prudent to tell him what she and Will had discovered. “I’ve been out strolling, sir. The morning is fine, though it looks like rain, and walking is good for the limbs.”

“Is your master at home?”

“Indeed, sir, he is.”

Darden scowled. “I heard your mistress married Michael Bray.”

“She has, sir.”

His jaw tightened and he ran the reins through his hands. “You best hurry. No doubt your master will wonder where you’ve gone.”

“Oh, I doubt the squire ever noticed I’ve been away. He's with his bride and has no time to worry about me.”

The crease between Darden's brows deepened and his face darkened. “Bride?”

“Yes, sir. He and Miss Juleah are married. You should’ve seen Miss Juleah. She looked pretty on her wedding day, and Mr. Braxton looking handsome.”

Darden's horse made a restless circle in the road. He coiled the reins around his gloves. Anger colored his face. Claire stepped away from the restless horse as it snorted and pawed the ground. Darden swore and dug his heels into the horse's sides. The horse shot off, kicking up clods of dirt.

Claire stood motionless. Darden was hot-tempered the days he had spent at Ten Width. To her, his behavior was not anything out of the ordinary. When he was gone, she rushed down the hill toward the house with her heart pounding.

She pushed open the door and hurried inside. “Sir, come quick!”

Seth emerged from the study with his shirt loose at the throat, and his waistcoat unbuttoned. He’d been going over the books that morning, and in his hand was a ledger.

“You must come at once.” Claire struggled to catch her breath.

Seth looked past her. “What's happened? Where's Will?”

She gestured with her hand. “He's back there, not far down the road. Hetty Shanks lies dead in the wood. Will needs you to come right away. Oh, sir, it's awful.”

“You’re sure it is Hetty?”

“Yes, sir. Will thinks she's been lying there for some time. Oh, sir. She's been murdered!”

Seth tossed the ledger down. “I’ll come at once. Tell Miss Juleah. She's upstairs. Stay with her until I return.”

Now it was clear why he and Michael Bray had not found Hetty at her cottage, why the door was unlocked and sitting
open, and why a pot of stew was left on the hearth. The one person who could have revealed the truth was dead in the woods.

After he saddled his horse, Seth swung into the saddle, dug his heels into Jupiter's girth, and shot off down the lane toward the gates and the road beyond. He rounded a sharp bend in the road. Will stepped out with a frantic wave of his arm. Seth pulled rein, and the horse skidded to a stop.

Seth slid off the saddle. “Where is she?”

“Over here, sir.” Will led him through the brush toward the body. “A shame, ’tis this. We haven’t had a murder in these parts in years. It’ll be the talk for miles around, and every woman will keep her door locked from now on.”

Seth leaned down and looked at Hetty's face. It ran through his mind that whoever hired her to carry out their plans had now paid her for disobedience and the wagging of her tongue.

He pushed down the repulsion, as he studied the corpse. “This was done in cold blood. Swift by such wounds, I’d say, but brutal.”

“Aye. I’ll go for the constable, sir.”

“No, I’ll do it. You stay here.”

“It isn’t proper the squire should go, if you don’t mind me saying, sir. ’Tis a servant's job.”

“All right, I’ll wait at Ten Width. But first we’ll mark the spot.”

Without hesitation, he untied his neckcloth from around his throat and looped it over a branch. A spider's web, outlined with glassy beads of dew, fluttered beside Hetty's head. He looked at the delicate pattern of spiral mesh. Eight threads provided moorings, their strength unbreakable against wind and storm in their silken grasp. He reached down and touched one. It broke. One thread released from its anchor caused the rest of the web to flutter and weaken.

It was the same with the series of events that had come into Seth's life. He swore to himself he’d find the weakest link, break it, and thus cause the plot against his family to disintegrate.