Surrender the Wind (9 page)

His mind restless, he headed for the room once occupied by his grandfather. He held the candle high to study the room. He supposed it had remained as Benjamin left it, his books with worn covers, a great oak clothes cupboard, and a model sailing ship in a hand-blown bottle on the mantel. A large four-poster bed stood in the middle of the room against the wall. Faded curtains hung from its canopy and a satin bolster stretched across the head.

He opened the cupboard stuffed with clothes. They were worn and outdated and smelled of dust and age. The presence of the man remained, something Seth could feel and see while he looked at the coats and linen shirts that hung from the rod. He would have Claire clear them out in the morning and give them to the poor.

He pushed the door shut, turned, and stared at the bed where Benjamin had died. He could not think of that. The room already had a sense of loneliness, as if the walls had been etched through the years with the names of those who had
come before him. They left, each one at the appointed time, leaving behind a beloved spouse, children, or lovers. Lives lived out through the years in forlorn hope and solitude. Yet, there were happy times, love shared, and children, like his father, born in this room.

He set the candle on the table and began to undress. He put his boots at the foot of the bed and decided to keep his breeches and shirt on for the night. The fire crackled in the hearth, yet the room was frigid and numbed his fingers and limbs.

Before he settled down, his eyes caught something lying across the back of a chair, something white and fine. He lifted it up. It was a woman's chemise. The heady scent of lavender rushed to his head. On the chair were two books: a small New Testament and Shakespeare's sonnets. He picked them up, opened the covers, and saw Juleah's name. She had been sleeping in this room.

With a sigh, he set the books down and opened the door. The gloom and the chilly air struck him. He started to call Claire, but hesitated. She had gone to bed, and Juleah was asleep downstairs.

He lay back down with his arms behind his head feeling wretched. She slept on the settee, while he lay comfortable in a large feathered bed. He watched the light of the fire flicker above him. Then he got up and pulled his boots back on.

The blanket had slipped below Juleah's shoulder. It pulled her dress with it, and revealed her skin. For the second time that night, Seth drew the blanket up over her. Not meaning to,
his fingertips brushed against her. She moved and opened her eyes.

“Forgive me, I startled you.” He pulled a chair up opposite her, sat, and leaned forward. “What are you doing down here?”

She drew her legs in and sat up. “I fell asleep. The fire was warm and I dozed off.” She rubbed her eyes. “What time is it, please?”

“After midnight.”

“So late?”

“That settee must be hard as the floor. The bed upstairs is more comfortable. You should have it, not I. I can sleep anywhere.”

Juleah shook her head. “But you are the new squire.”

“I am also a gentleman.”

“You should have the best room.”

“An English custom?” He smiled at her.

“It would be improper for me to stay in that room.” She pushed aside the throw and stood. Her hair fell over her shoulders along her bodice. “I will go to the room next to Caroline's.”

“Then I wish you to sleep well.” He folded his hands together and looked over at the crimson coals that glowed in the fireplace.

Juleah stepped past him, and he noticed her feet were bare. “I’ll try. Goodnight.”

A breath of wind swept against the windowpanes, and Juleah slipped out of the room. A moment more and a door upstairs closed.

In the morning, Seth rose and crossed the room to the window that faced east. Brushing aside the curtains, he regarded his grandfather's estate in the light of day. Green fields and hedgerows dripped with dew that glistened in the sunlight. Sheep grazed on a hill, and a flock of swallows flitted against the pale sky.

He ran his hands through his hair, pulled it back, and tied it into a pigtail.

From the blue-and-white china basin on the wash table, he splashed cold water over his face. Claire knocked on his door and entered.

“Good morning, sir.” She set a tray of coffee and buttered toast on a side table and prepared to leave.

Seth turned to her. “Claire, I discovered last night that Miss Juleah slept in this room before I arrived.”

“Yes, sir. The room has a better view and the mattress is down-filled. The other rooms are colder, sir, and the furnishing aren’t as suitable for a lady.”

“What do you mean?” he said concerned.

“Not as pretty, sir,” Claire answered. “Except for Miss Caroline's.”

“I see.” He handed the chemise over to her. “This belongs to Miss Juleah. Please do not tell her I found it.”

Taking the garment in hand, a rush of scarlet colored Claire's cheeks. “Oh, I won’t, sir.”

Seth wiped the shaving cream off his face with a towel. “If I’d known she’d been using this room, I would have taken another. It would have been best to let her stay where she was.”

Claire bit her lip, lowered her eyes. “I should’ve told you, sir. ’Tis my fault.”

Seth glanced back at Claire's guilt-ridden expression and felt sympathy for the girl. “Do not be hard on yourself, Claire. Everything is settled now.”

Juleah was sitting in the window seat when he came downstairs. The window was open and she was throwing out crumbs to the sparrows that hopped along the sill. Seth wished her a good morning and she turned.

“How do you like the house, Mr. Braxton, now that it is light?”

“I’ve no heart for it. I’m out of my element and would rather be back in Virginia plowing fields and raising horses. But, I felt obligated to my sister, and I’m glad to have come when I did.”

She gathered her hair in her hand. “Your arrival has eased her grief and given her hope.”

He rubbed his jaw to ease the razor burn.

She pulled at a loose thread on the seat cushion and twisted it between her fingers. “They say war hardens a man, that he loses sensitivity.”

“The things I saw and did in war taught me compassion if nothing else,” he said. “The Lord knows we need it.”

“I did not mean to imply
you
had lost sensitivity.” She yanked the thread until it broke. “I have said the wrong thing.”

“You dislike Americans, don’t you?”

“I lost my brother in your battle for independence.” “I’m sorry.”

Juleah turned back to the window, pushed it wider and threw out a handful of breadcrumbs from the dish on the sill. “This is a subject we should not discuss.”

He smiled over at her and hoped to ease the tension between them. It ebbed and flowed, like the tide. “Politics is a volatile subject of conversation.”

She tossed him a glance over her shoulder. “Unless you know the person well enough.”

“Even then it can be touchy.”

“Indeed.” She touched the edge of the ribbon on her bodice, dropped her hand when his eyes follow her gesture. “Ladies are not encouraged to talk of such things with men.”

“You are free to speak your mind to me anytime you wish.”

A smile grew in her eyes. “I apologize if I gave you the impression I would not.”

A gentle laugh tugged at the corners of Seth's mouth. “I believe you. Tell me your mind now. Does it bother you that a rebel inherited an English estate?”

She gave him a shrug and dusted the dish out with her hand. “No more than what you’d feel if an Englishman bought land next to yours in Virginia. It doesn’t matter, as long as people are good neighbors and conduct themselves honorably.”

Seth inclined his head to her.
“Touché
, Miss Fallowes.”

Was she always quick to speak to a man in this fashion? Where had her boldness come from? Did she have to prove herself to him, that she was not the timid English girl that kept her eyes down, that only spoke when spoken to, that did not laugh in public or interject her opinion?

“I have spoken my mind too swiftly.” She trailed off, those fascinating eyes of hers meeting his again. “It is a flaw, I am told.”

Seth shook his head. “I doubt you have many. What some call an imperfection may be a strength.”

Juleah stood and stepped aside from him, for he was close. “I would think it would be hard to break ties and journey to a country not your own.”

“I broke no ties. Both my parents are buried on a hillside that overlooks the river. For now, I’ve lent my fields out for planting.”

“Your father would be pleased. I imagine he was a good man.”

“He was the best of men. If he had lived, things would be different.”

It was a delicate subject, to talk of the past war and the loss it had brought not only to his life, but hers. Before he could divert the topic, a change in Juleah's expression went from genial and warm, to pale and distant.

“My brother would have made a difference if he had lived, too.” Sadness edged in her voice.

Seth's feelings for her surfaced, and he picked up her hand and held it a moment. “I suppose we’re equals on that account. We’ve both felt the pain of losing people we love.”

She withdrew from his grip. “I shall never understand.”

He watched the glow of the morning sun play over her face and hair. He paused and drew in a breath. “Does anyone besides Claire and Will know about the loss of my nephew?”

“The sexton at the church, the woman who cared for him, and Mave Proctor. Unfeeling creature. She asked for payment right after she told me the news.”

“How much from your own purse?”

Juleah's hand went to her throat. Her fingers moved about, as if she searched for the piece she treasured. “I gave her a brooch choker. It was all I had at the time.”

“I’ll get it back for you.”

“It is nothing and worth little.”

“Still, I’ll have it returned.”

She thanked him with a slight nod.

“What kind of boy was Nathaniel?”

“He was sweet, inquisitive, easy to grow attached to, easy to love.”

“Did you know Caroline's husband?”

“Briefly. Jeremy's father would not agree to a marriage. They were forbidden to see each other.”

“So they ran off?”

“Yes. The squire and Sir Charles tried to find them, but were unsuccessful.”

“They were shunned after they returned, and Jeremy was cut off. Am I right on that account?”

“Yes, by Sir Charles.” She angled her head.

Seth said nothing for a moment. He watched the light cross the floor, listened to the fire crackle in the hearth. “You’d think Sir Charles would have been glad his son made right by the woman carrying his child.”

“Caroline was considered below Jeremy's station.”

“And what about my grandfather's stepson? Did he try to help?”

“No,” Juleah answered tersely. “He agreed with Sir Charles.”

A muscle twitched in Seth's face. “From what your uncle told me, he's apt to take advantage of grieving women.” The look of displeasure on her face did not escape Seth.

“In the end, Caroline returned when the squire fell ill,” she went on. “At least they made amends before he passed away. Benjamin was happy about the child and eventually accepted Jeremy. One afternoon a letter arrived for him, and he insisted it was urgent he leave. He was found two days later wandering in a farmer's field. He died the next day.”

Seth lowered his head. “My sister has suffered. Has a doctor been to see her?”

“Four days ago. Dr. Yates said her fever was infectious, that Nathaniel should be removed from the house. Little good it did him.”

“I’d like to speak to him.”

Juleah stood and stepped toward the door. “William can go.”

“No, I must. Where can I find the good doctor?”

“I expect at The Sea Maiden tavern. Otherwise, you should find him at his house outside of Clovelly.”

Seth called for Claire. “Tell Will to saddle a horse,” he told her as she waited inside the doorway. “Tell him he's to show me the way to The Sea Maiden.” He then turned back to Juleah. “You’ll stay until I return?”

“Yes, for as long as Caroline needs me.”

“I should tell you, I met your good mother, brother, and sister on my way here. They were returning from your aunt's home. Won’t your mother wish you home soon?” He looked down into her face and felt such pleasure that he shifted back.