Surrender the Wind (17 page)

Juleah stood and leaned toward the window. Outside, Sir Henry walked along his drive, paused and looked down at a dandelion. “Papa likes him a great deal, too.”

Lady Anna sighed. “He fought against England. And there is your brother we must think about. You have no idea how broken my heart is. My son enlisting to fight in that war, miles and miles away from home in some godforsaken wilderness. And for what, I ask? The king? What did the king care for my son? What did he care for a grieving mother?”

Juleah turned away from the window. “A pain no mother should bear.”

“I shall see him again, for I do not doubt I am not long for this world.”

Juleah rushed to her mother and sat close to her. “You mustn’t say such things. It is distressing to hear.” Her voice was etched with pain.

Lady Anna rested her handkerchief against her breast. “At times, I have shortness of breath, and my heart pounds. My skin grows chilled, my limbs weak. Doctor Yates says it is high emotions and the strain of life that plagues me. Grief, I say, plays havoc on a woman.”

Juleah sighed. “Peter would not wish you to grieve long, Mother.”

“I wonder what Mr. Braxton sacrificed?” Anna gripped the edges of her handkerchief as if to pull it apart.

Juleah's lips parted, and she found herself answering with sympathy. “He lost his father in the war. Was that not enough?”

Lady Anna settled back against the cushions. “I had forgotten about that.”

“Families on both sides suffered, Mother. I will never understand why men solve their differences by waging war and killing one another.”

Her mother nodded. “If the world would follow the Lord's command to love one another, life would be better everywhere.
Do you imagine Mr. Braxton feels homesick for his country and will return some day?”

This was an idea not to be considered. The thought of Seth leaving caused her much pain. “He has not told me.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“I think he has qualities any woman would like,” said Juleah.

Her mother took her hands. “I would not want him to take you far away.”

Juleah recognized the look in Anna's face—one of worry and doubt. “There is no understanding between us, Mother. He has not asked me.”

“Has he implied it?”

“That he take me away? Be assured—he has not.” Juleah pulled at a loose thread on the cushion, twisted it between her thumb and finger.

“This conversation is most confusing,” Lady Anna pressed her fingertips against her temples.

“Then we should not discuss this topic,” Juleah told her.

“You are exhausting me, Juleah.” Anna lowered her hands and slapped them on her lap. “Is there any relief?”

“Would you like to go for a walk? The day is fine.”

Anna raised her brows. “No. What we shall speak of is the letter that arrived. I saw it on your writing desk. I refused to look at it, but I have a good idea what it says.”

“Edward Darden sent it.” She did not tell Anna she had not read it, but instead tossed it into the fireplace without a second thought.

“I thought so. Before he left England, he visited you often. Why has he stopped?”

“I asked him to stay away.”

Lady Anna angled her head. “Why?”

“Something cruel is in his nature. He's changed.”

“I’ve always thought Darden must be low on the aristocratic family tree, with the way he dresses.”

Juleah smiled lightly at her mother's flippant comment about clothes. “Darden is selfish and arrogant, Mother. It has little to do with the coat he wears.”

Lady Anna wiggled in her seat. “Hmm. Well, Mr. Braxton reflects his grandfather's pride. One cannot help but see in his eyes a disdain for us.”

“That is not true, Mother. Mr. Braxton thinks the best of us. He respects Papa and likes you. He has affection for Thomas and Jane.”

“That is kind of you to say, Juleah. It relieves my doubt. But I fear to think what will happen when he and Mr. Darden cross paths. They are of two opposing forces.”

Juleah stared out the window. She hoped with all her heart, Seth and Darden would never meet. It would be disastrous indeed.

S
eedlings shook free from majestic sugar maples and whirled down to earth. Seth rode his horse from the groves nine miles into green moorland. He reined in and saw Wrenhurst nestled in the lush valley below, the poplars casting shadows over a plain of lawn.

Eager, Seth searched for a child at play, but no person was in sight, at least not until a horse galloped across his path. The rider jerked the reins and his horse skidded to a halt. It reared and beat its hooves forward.

“Gad, young man! I almost collided with you! Steady that horse. Who are you and what are you doing on my land?”

“Paying Sir Charles a visit, if it is of any business of yours, sir. My apologies, that I startled your horse.”

“You are a bold rider. You should be more careful. You are not a highwayman I hope.”

“I’m Seth Braxton of Ten Width.”

The man's face deepened into a frown. “Ten Width, you say? I suppose you’ve come to Wrenhurst for reasons other than a social call.”

“I’ve come to speak with Sir Charles. Is he at home, do you know?”

The man shot Seth a proud look. “I am Sir Charles.”

Seth steadied Jupiter and tightened the reins around his fist. “I’ll not impose on you long, Sir Charles. But it is urgent we speak.”

“Speak to me here and be quick.”

“Do you have a rule of not allowing strangers by the name of Braxton to enter your house?”

“The name Braxton does have a certain aversion when I hear it. Besides, by your speech, I’d say you were no Braxton. What is a colonial doing here in England?”

Seth drew himself up. “My grandfather was Benjamin Braxton.”

Sir Charles raised his brows. “Ah, I see. Well, I am not so ill-mannered not to extend my condolences on the deaths of your grandfather and sister. Caroline was my son's wife, as you may know.”

Seth's brows pinched together. “My sister is alive and well. What made you think she had died?”

Shocked, Sir Charles's eyes widened. “I was told as much in a letter I received. You mean the fever did not take her?”

“You were deceived. Did you not receive word concerning your grandson?”

“I received no word of him.”

“I’m surprised, sir, that you did not make inquiry into the welfare of your grandchild. What did you think happened to him with his mother supposedly dead?”

Sir Charles squinted his eyes. “I think, Mr. Braxton, we should go to the house and discuss this.”

He turned his horse and Seth followed. Before him rose the grand house at the end of the drive. Not a spot of decay, not a brick out of place, the house had an atmosphere of perfection. A groom met Sir Charles to take his horse, while Seth
dismounted and looked up at the bulwarks and the wide mullioned windows.

The door swung open and a servant stepped out and stood outside it. “We are not to be disturbed,” Sir Charles said to her. With her eyes lowered, she gave Sir Charles a quick curtsey.

Heading into his study, Sir Charles waved Seth inside and shut the door. His gray hair had once been dark and the wrinkles beside his eyes showed his maturity. His tailored dress and scrubbed appearance were of no surprise, for he was a rich man.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Seth began. “My sister was sick as you were told, with an infectious fever. Upon the advice of her physician, your grandson was removed from the house and given into the care of a nursemaid.”

The muscles in Sir Charles's face twitched. “And where were you when this occurred?”

“Making my way to Ten Width. An earlier arrival might have prevented what followed. Do you know a woman by the name of Shanks?”

“I do not recall ever hearing that name. Why?”

“Caroline was told her son perished in Hetty Shanks's care. I arrived and found her wasting away with grief.”

Sir Charles's eyes shifted from Seth's to the floor. “That would be distressful indeed. I am no stranger to grief.”

“Then you’ll understand the circumstances I’m about to unfold.”

Lifting his eyes, Sir Charles's expression became one of anxious inquiry. “I am listening.”

“I caught Hetty Shanks sneaking through the woods beside the church near Ten Width. She confessed she was paid for her silence, for the lie she told. She declared young Nathaniel is alive, and before I could get out of her where he might have
been taken, she slipped from my grasp when my sister collapsed in my arms.”

Sir Charles clasped his hands together and turned to stare out the window. “I cannot hide what is true. It would be cruel. The boy is indeed alive.”

Elated, and relieved his search had ended here, Seth stepped forward. “Then he is with you?”

Sir Charles looked at Seth, aggrieved. “Yes. I assure you he has been well cared for.”

Seth nodded. Indeed Hetty had lied about the boy being snatched out of her hands. It was she who brought him to Wrenhurst. But why?

Seth frowned. “You’d best tell me now, sir, what role you played in this.”

“I had no knowledge of this conspiracy. Dare you question my role in anything?”

“Was it your idea to take the boy from his mother?”

“Of course not.”

“Had you thought this was the way to injure my sister?”

His face flushed, and Sir Charles stepped away stiffly from the window. “What stupendous impertinence. I tell you, I had nothing to do with it.”

“You were satisfied that the events told to you were true?”

“I was.”

“Did you contact the authorities to make inquiry?”

“I had no reason to doubt the woman. She appeared honest enough. She gave me a letter penned in a feminine hand, signed by your sister. No doubt, it was a forgery. The letter entrusted Nathaniel to me and rightly, seeing I am his grandfather. I never would have thought anyone would bring him here under false pretenses.”

Sir Charles lowered himself into a winged chair and ran his hands over his face. “I remember that woman standing in my hallway, her cloak dripping with rain, a look of false sincerity on her face. She had come in a covered farmer's wagon. I remember scrutinizing its driver, a robust, mean-looking fellow … perhaps her man, but I cannot say for sure.”

“Yes, she mentioned him, said he was a servant, that he carried a dead child to the church for her. They lied and told the caretaker it was Nathaniel they had brought to be buried.”

Sir Charles's face turned ashen. “This woman, you called her Shanks … she spoke to me in a sugary tone, extended her sympathies, and told me I must do my duty. She had the gall to put out her hand, that greedy palm covered in an old glove. I paid her for her troubles. God will pay her for her sins.”

“At least she had enough heart to deliver the boy to you, Sir Charles. Others meant to harm the child … possibly end his young life.”

Sir Charles shook his head and balled his fists. “You mean someone would have gone to such lengths as to murder an innocent child, my little lad that never harmed a thing?”

Seth looked into his elder's strained face. “It is hard to conceive.”

With an oath, Sir Charles stood from the chair. “They do not deserve to draw breath!”

“Indeed not. God willing, they will be brought to justice.”

“We’ve been played the fools. My wife was present when this took place. You may ask her if it will settle your mind and make you think better of me.”

“I shall not trouble her. I believe you.”

“Well that you did, for we must sort this thing out together. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Seth extended his hand and Sir Charles grasped it. “May I see him?”

“Certainly, but I will not give him over. Not until you bring Caroline to Wrenhurst. I must hear her story from her lips and see her face-to-face.”

“We both are cautious men, Sir Charles. I assure you, I am whom I claim to be.”

“If you were in my place, would you give over your grandson to a stranger?”

Seth took no offense. “No, I would not, sir.”

With a troubled gait, Sir Charles paced. “Caroline and I have a breach between us. Yet, what we have in common seals that breach. She gave me a grandchild, an heir. It appears I have made a muddle of things by not inquiring about her. I am sorry.”

Sir Charles gazed down into the garden at the side of his house. His stern face softened, and the lines near his eyes deepened. “Nathaniel is in the garden playing with his nurse.”

Seth leaned forward and looked out. On the lawn tumbled a curly-headed child. A spaniel puppy romped alongside him. Though his stockings were torn across one knee and smeared with mud, he had the appearance in his blue velvet jacket and breeches, of a young heir. The nursemaid tried her best to keep him from racing about, but her efforts were futile. She kept her hands stretched out, as if wanting to catch the boy. He listened, stood, and threw a ball to the pup.

When Seth's eyes met his nephew's, the boy moved toward the safety of the woman. An inquisitive look swept across his face, and he raised a plump hand. The gesture shot an arrow straight into the heart of Seth Braxton.

“He looks every inch his father,” Sir Charles said. “Except his hair is the color of Caroline's, and his eyes are as wide and
green as hers. He has been a comfort to me having lost my son. She will let me see him from time to time, will she not?”

“Caroline knows what a grandfather can mean.”

Sir Charles nodded, his eyes filled, and Seth watched him swallow his emotions.

“I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear she is alive,” said Sir Charles. “Surely, for her to hear her son lives was tremendous—a miracle, in a word.”

Seth shifted on his feet. “Words cannot describe it, Sir Charles.”

Sir Charles paused to think. “We must discover who the other conspirators are. Hetty Shanks is not the mastermind behind this.”

“I agree.”

“I’d say you should go to the constable about this, have the woman arrested. But Latterbuck is useless. He’ll say it is a misunderstanding.”

Seth walked from the window to the doorway and donned his hat. “I have heard of this man. It would do no good for the moment to involve him, not until I have solid evidence. I’ll return with Caroline in the morning.”