Surrender the Wind (32 page)

“He's not at home.”

“When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure.”

Juleah struggled to rise. “I want to see him. Oh, why does my head go round?”

“If you don’t lie still, you’ll sicken.” Judith Dirk spoke with arresting firmness and pressed her hands on Juleah's shoulders to make her lay back down.

Juleah shoved away. She stood and rushed to the door. “Seth! Seth!” She jerked and rattled the handle. A moment and she heard footsteps and relaxed. Seth was coming. The door opened, and there stood the tall figure of a man in the darkness of the hall. She gazed up at him, unable to make out his face. Her knees buckled. She felt his arms go around her, lift her, and carry her across the room to the bed.

Having no will to fight it, Juleah sank lower, deeper into unwanted sleep, where neither dreams nor nightmares invaded.

S
eth shot down into the chilly depths. The strength of the tide pulled at him. He’d stay under for as long as he could, hoping Latterbuck and his men could not see him below. His lungs were about to explode, and he slowly released his breath. He swam toward the surface and battled the hold of the sea.

Close to the shore, blank fog surrounded him. He groped with his hands until they touched stony edges and he pulled close to them. He glanced up from his rocky shelter to see the dark and silent sky frowning above him. Within the breaks, a myriad of stars stood out. High in the heavens the moon broke free from the embrace of clouds.

Farther down the beach, he spotted the restless sparkle of lanterns. Latterbuck's men were searching for him. Their voices were faint, but Seth could tell they were weary of their quest.

“Nothing's here,” he heard one shout. “We’ll find a body in a day or two.”

They believed he was dead, drowned in the sea, crushed against harsh rocks, a man so grief-stricken that he took his own life. He was glad for it, at least for now, at least until he found Juleah. What would Latterbuck say to him then?

He hoped nothing hard had befallen Michael Bray. It grieved Seth to think Bray might believe he had died and that he would tell his sister.

A moment passed and the searchers turned back. They gathered together like a troop of fireflies and mounted the stone steps that led to the land above the cliffs. He watched them move off until atop the hill their lanterns grew small and disappeared into the darkness.

Those who searched for him were gone, save one man, who without the aid of a lantern climbed down the rocky slope. Moonlight grew strong and Seth watched him walk along the beach. The man paused and looked around. A moment later, he moved into the shadow of the cliff face where Seth could no longer see him. A twig snapped, and a bird started from its nighttime perch. It mounted the wind and merged into the deep indigo heavens. Seth's heart pounded against his chest and his breath came in short, silent gasps.

He slipped from the huddle of rocks and all but stumbled into the man outside it. He grabbed him, threw him back, and raised his fists to strike.

“Thank a merciful God.” The man grabbed Seth by the shoulders.

When he saw Bray's face in the moonlight, he lowered his fist. “Michael.”

“Latterbuck thinks you’re dead, and I feared it were so. Are you hurt?”

“Cold. You must think I am out of my mind for what I did.”

“Aye, I do, and I could strike you down for it. You could have been killed.”

“I couldn’t let them take me, not when I know my wife is in danger. I thank God the sea here was deep, though it was not without a struggle for my life.”

Bray slipped off his coat, threw it over Seth's shoulders. “They’ve been searching for your body. Be relieved they are gone now.”

Seth glanced up at the cliffs above. “You are certain?”

Bray nodded. “Yes, follow me. I know these cliffs as well as my own face, having climbed them as a boy.”

Exhausted, cold, and silent, Seth followed Bray up the slopes toward the heights above. With care, they set their feet upon slippery stones carved into a steep staircase centuries ago by fishermen. It was indeed an age-old path, covered in green lichen, its wanderings capricious with loose and crumbling stone, banked by the walled fortresses of the cliffs.

Closer to the top they came to a place where trees and shrubs crowned the precipice. Seth looked back to realize the height to which they climbed.

Bray put his hand over Seth's shoulder. “We must hurry back to Henry Chase. Sir Henry and Lady Anna will help.”

Seth took Bray by the sleeve. “I do not want to cause Sir Henry and his lady any more problems.”

“Then where will you go? I can take you to London, hide you.”

“No, I must go to Crown Cove. I’ll find Juleah there.”

“Someone at the tavern might know the way. I have had time to think, and because you are adamant that Juleah is alive, I now believe it may be possible. I’m coming with you.”

They set off into the darkness and took the road less traveled. Seth hung back a ways from Bray's horse if by chance he were stopped by Latterbuck's men. But no one was in sight.

The tavern sat at the bottom of the hill. Lights glimmered in the windows. A lantern swung on an iron staff outside the door. They moved their horses to the back, hidden from view. Bray went to go inside to make inquiries, but was stopped
when Pen stepped out through the back door. She emptied her bucket of wash water into the grass and glanced up.

“Pen,” whispered Bray. “It is I, Michael Bray, and a companion. We need to talk to you.”

With startled eyes, she stared at him through the gloom. Cautioning her to raise no alarm, Bray hurried to her, while Seth remained atop his horse.

“Captain Bray,” she said in a hushed voice. “Why you about scared the life out of me, sir. Who's the gentleman with you?”

“A friend, Pen. Now, you must listen. It is important. We need your help.”

“I’ll try. I’m muddled tonight, Captain Bray. Have you heard the news? Folks are sayin’ the squire's dead.”

Bray glanced at Seth, then back at Pen. “No doubt the news spread fast, since you know already.”

“They say he jumped into the sea. His heart must’ve been so heavy it drove him to it. We should pray for his soul, sir.”

When the flame from her lantern flared, she recognized Seth and she rushed forward with a sighing breath. “Mr. Braxton!”

Seth leaned down to her. “You mustn’t tell anyone, Pen. Understand?”

Though she looked bewildered, she nodded and gazed at him with doe-like eyes. “I think so.”

“You mustn’t let anyone know you saw me, especially the constable.”

“Yes, sir.” She put her lantern down and drew closer.

“You will not betray us, will you, Pen?”

“I’ll not breathe a word. What must I do?”

“I’m bound for Crown Cove. Do you know the way?”

“Aye, sir. Crown Cove is eight miles north of here. You must follow the main highway for several miles until it comes
to a crossroad. A cage hangs from a gibbet. It's a startling sight you can’t miss. From there, head west across the moors. Crown Cove is a large old house with four chimneys. You’ll see it down in a vale. You’ll know the hill above it by a great heap of stones set atop.”

“You have my thanks,” Seth said.

Pen bit her lower lip. “Edward Darden was here, if that matters. He was out of sorts, nervous.”

“Thank you, Pen.”

“I’ll be your eyes and ears, sirs. But how will I get word to you if I learn anything?”

“You’ll see me here, Pen.” Michael Bray walked back to his horse and mounted. From his pocket, he handed her a gold piece. “Your information and silence is well worth the cost.”

She moved back in refusal. “Nay, sir. I’ll not take your money. Now hurry in case the constable and his men come here.”

They moved off into the darkness, Seth took hold of the horse's bridle and stopped Bray.

“You mustn’t come with me. I don’t want you implicated in anything. Your first duty is to your wife, not me.”

Bray looked over at Seth, grieved. “As much as I want to argue with you, I find I cannot. And though it makes me feel a coward, I’ll do as you’ve said. Send me word when you find what you are searching for.”

“I swear it. Take care of my sister.”

“God go with you, my brother.”

Inflamed with urgency, Seth turned his horse out onto the moonlit highway and galloped off into the fog-cloaked darkness.

L
ater that night, when the ship's bells set the hour, Juleah woke with a shudder in a narrow cot, huddled under a blanket that smelled of sea air. Why could she not fully wake? Why could she not clearly think? Again her eyes closed, and she lay in quiet fear.

Overhead, footsteps and timbers creaked. The sounds frightened her, and she wanted Seth with a heart that ached. Tears slipped from her eyes onto her cheeks, and a prayer whispered from her lips. Why was she alone? She must be ill, perhaps with a fever, or something stronger, and it had made her confused by way of its force. She supposed it would pass in a day or two. Then she would be well again. There was no need to worry or fear. Seth would take care of her. Soon he’d walk into the room, sit with her, and explain everything.

Thirsty, she skimmed her tongue over dry lips. Her stomach twisted with hunger. She turned to see a table on the other side of the room. Upon it sat a bottle of wine, a pewter plate, a bowl of oranges, and an amber bottle. Orange peels lay on the plate, and she could smell their scent. She grew ravenous for food and drink.

The room moved and shifted to one side, then back again. She stood and groped her way to the door. It had a metal latch, and when she tugged at it, it would not budge.

Realizing the room she was in was no bedchamber at all, but a ship's cabin, a rise of dizziness swelled in her head. She reached for the bedpost, wrapped her arms around it, and held on.

Her eyes caught sight of that amber bottle again. Sunlight streamed through the cabin window and shone upon it like tiny stars. Whatever the content, it was her saboteur. She moved toward it, snatched it up in her hand, wiggled the cork loose from the lip, held it to her nose, and sniffed. She recalled the odor, for her mother had a bottle set aside in a cabinet at home.

A sleeping draught made from the Gaelic poppy lus a’ chadail, the herb of slumber. Who would do this to me?

Her hand closed in a tight fist around the bottle. She crossed the room to the window and shoved it open. The sea wind hit her face and blew back her hair. She threw the bottle into the waves. She leaned from the window and watched it sink into the inky depths. From the leaded casement, she gazed out at the vast expanse of ocean. The landless horizon and the white foam churned from the drive of the ship. Despair gripped her, and a sob slipped from between her lips.

Shaking free of the stupor brought on by the opiate, she gripped the sides of the window and tried to think. Her hands tensed and shook as she tightened her hold. Slowly her memory returned.

Judith Dirk, that mysterious woman, no doubt administered the potion. Then she remembered she was told they were to go on a voyage—aboard a ship called
The Raven.
The man at the door
—
his face was not clear, but she wanted to believe
it was Seth. His voice—no it was different and unmistakably English. He claimed to love her, said he had saved her from the ravages of the fire.

Darden. It had to be.

Her mind drifted back to the glare of a candle, to the house cat curled around the edge of the curtain. She had sighed and shaken her head with relief. The clock on her mantle chimed— a noise, a whisper. Footsteps.

She remembered she had picked up her candle, slipped out her door into the hall, and gone down the staircase. She had reached the third stair and out from the gloom two figures moved forward. Her hand froze around the silver stem. Her throat tightened—she could not call out.

Juleah
, a voice had spoken to her through the shadows.

At the foot of the staircase stood Darden and his mother. A chill charged through her. The horrid words of the old squire's widow came ringing back. “Take the ring off her finger. It should’ve been mine. To think, that usurper thought he had a right to give her Benjamin's treasures.”

He had said it mattered not, for he had found what he had come for. Benjamin's will was all he wanted. She watched him turn and toss it into the fire. Benjamin's widow snatched at Juleah's hand. In a struggle, the ring was taken from her, pulled with such force that her skin bruised. The candle had been knocked from her hand. The awful fire spread, and the world went black.

She had been carried off against her will. Panic rose anew and her breath snatched in her throat. She gazed out at the wanton sea and knew there was no telling how far from Seth she was, where they were taking her, or if she would ever see him again.

“Oh, my love!” she said, tears slipping from her eyes.

Waves tossed and beckoned. With her heart drumming, Juleah hauled herself up. Wind pushed against her, as if to say go back, that there was hope yet. Her hair blew about her and mizzle from the sea covered her face. She prayed, and as she whispered to heaven, something within her rose—strength of will—her love for Seth.

Tightening her grip, she climbed back down, shut the window, and fixed the latch. A chest lay near the bed. She hurried over to it, opened the lid, and stood back. These were not her clothes. She went on her knees, rummaged through frocks and linen petticoats. At the bottom, she found an iron ring of keys. Perhaps one would open the lock.

At first, she hesitated, unsure if opening it were wise. But what choice did she have? She laid her ear against the door and listened. A faint suggestion of movement, then a dull thud followed the creaking of the ship's timbers. She placed one key after another in the keyhole, until a faint click freed the latch and she opened the door. Before her, a companion ladder led up to the main deck. Spears of sunlight fell between the slats from above. She slipped out and pressed her back against the wall. Cautious, she approached the steps and glanced up at a clear azure sky through the riggings in the sails.