Surrender the Wind (22 page)

Mave twisted her mouth, stroked her cat harder. “She lives in a cottage outside Clovelly. It's the one with the brown thatched roof and red door.”

“With her man?”

Mave paused. “I know nothing about any man of hers.”

Seth thanked her and stood. Mave touched him by the coat sleeve. “I’m not a bad woman, sir. I didn’t know Hetty lied. Please assure me that I’ll not be held accountable for Hetty's actions.”

He could not give her the assurance she asked for. He believed there would come a time when the sheriff would want to question her. “I’ll do what I can.”

When he reached the door, he turned back. “I understand Miss Fallowes paid you with something precious to her. I’ll buy it back.”

She nodded approval and once she fetched the trinket, she held it out to him. “Sixpence, sir? That's fair, don’t you think, for all I’ve been through?”

Seth dropped the silver coin in her palm, took the choker, and shoved it into his waistcoat pocket. He and Michael put their hats on and left Mave Proctor's humble dwelling for the house with the red door.

The drizzle lifted. The sky turned milky white and the breeze sighed through wet leaf and bracken. Seth walked his horse down the lane beside Michael Bray's. Drawing near a dwelling, a flock of rooks rose overhead from a crop of elms. Their unearthly screech filled the air. Hetty Shanks's cottage sat off a tree-lined road that led toward the sea and the cliffs above it.

They dismounted and looped their horses’ reins over a rickety picket fence. Seth scanned the place. It was ordinary, like other cottages he had seen along the country roads. The thatched roof and red door was as Mave had described. An herb garden grew beneath a window and to the right sat a rain barrel, a crude wooden bench, and a butter churn.

The door sat open. Seth called, but no one answered. He moved the door in with the tip of his boot. It opened up to a single room, dark and homey, sparsely furnished yet clean. From an open window, the breeze blew back a pair of muslin curtains, the air laden with the heady scent of sea and rain.

Seth stood with his hand against the doorjamb. A cast-iron pot hung inside the fireplace on a hook. The coals beneath it were gray and powdery. He moved his hand over them and felt warmth emanate from the ashes. Careful to touch the side of the pot, he discovered it was still warm.

“She has not been long from home,” he told Bray.

“Perhaps she's gone into the village.” Bray picked up a tattered shawl and tossed it back on a chair.

“We would have passed her on the road if she had.” He walked outside and looked up at the gray and forlorn sky, how the clouds whirled, how they oppressed earth, cliffs, and sea.

“What woman would leave a pot of stew over the fire unattended? Why would she leave when it looks as if the sky is about to burst?”

Bray came up beside him. “A sure sign she left in a hurry. These tracks show she had a visitor.”

Seth looked down at the ground. Boot prints were beginning to dry in the wind. The outlines of horseshoes were pressed into the soggy earth. He lifted his eyes to study the road ahead. It was quiet except for the birds fluttering in the trees.

“Perhaps she is close by.”

“She did not answer when you called her name,” said Bray.

“I may have frightened her off.” Seth glanced back at the red door. “No woman would leave her door unlatched.”

“She may have been called away. Whoever was here before us gave her a lift into the village.”

“Or harmed her.”

Bray frowned. “I pray that not be so. We need her to answer some important questions, don’t we?”

“I have a feeling she has either fled or fallen victim to this rider.” Seth crouched down and ran his finger along the outline of a print.

Seth stalked away. Bray made a quick turn and followed. Mounting their horses, they moved them down the road. Seth leaned to the side of his saddle to observe the tracks left in the mud. In front of them were more footprints, scattered and
confused, as if the person who made them had stumbled along drunk.

“These are the footprints of a woman.” He straightened up and looked over at Bray.

“They lead off,” said Bray. “Without a trace they are gone.”

When they reached the bend, Seth reined in his horse and looked hard into the woods and then ahead. “You’re right. There is no telling where they went.” He paused, breathed deeply to calm the anxiety within.

“Do not be discouraged,” Bray told him. “We’ll find her, if not today then soon.”

Seth believed him, yet replied in a grave tone. “What a mess of confusion this is. I fear it is the beginning of something more dangerous than either of us realizes.”

T
he following Thursday, Caroline and Michael Bray were wed in the stone church outside of Ten Width. They had long awaited the arrival of a minister, and it was none too soon for the couple. They held a quiet ceremony, with only those closest to them in attendance, with no reception, and no delay to keep them from settling in London.

The Fallowes troop was noisy the moment they stepped out of the church door into the glorious sun-drenched day. Just as Juleah walked outside, she spied the carriage spiriting off the happy couple. Sir Charles and his lady's coach took the opposite direction homeward. She looked for Seth. He was nowhere to be seen.
If he wants me, he shall find me.

Her mother gathered her younger children to the carriage door.

“I shall walk home,” Juleah told her. “It is a fine day.”

Anna Fallowes huffed. “Dear me, Juleah. It is another mile to home. And you have no companion.”

Juleah brought her wide-brimmed hat down closer to shade her eyes from the brilliant sunlight and strolled down the tree-lined lane. When she turned at the bend leading home, she
paused and glanced up at the streams of sunlight that poured through the trees.

Continuing on, the breeze caressed her face. It was good to be alive, to feel the sun on her skin, smell the scent of wild-flowers growing in the fields, hear the songs of birds. But with no warning, a horse galloped round the bend behind her. The rider reined in several yards from her and steadied his mount. He relaxed and put one hand on his thigh, while he held the reins with the other.

“Juleah.” Seth spoke out of breath. “Do you always walk in the middle of the road?” Dark blue, his brave eyes met hers, and her heart leapt.

“Usually. I must take care from riders who ride so fiercely.” She smiled and it caused his eyes to warm.

He dismounted and came to her. “I do ride recklessly. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you. I would deserve to be hung from the highest tree and left for the birds to pick clean.”

Juleah grimaced. “Ah, that is an awful thing to say.”

“Yes, you’re right. Tell me where you’re going. I thought you had left with your family.”

“I decided to walk home.” She moved on. He followed her, pulling his horse along.

“You should have someone with you this time of day.”

“I’m safe enough close to home.”

“Do not be so confident. It was on this road I was ambushed.”

“I have not forgotten. But it is not yet dark—and you are here.”

He touched her arm, which caused her to stop. “I was headed to Henry Chase when I saw you had left. You may ride Jupiter and I’ll lead. Or we could both ride.”

A thrill stole up through her at the prospect of being close to him on horseback again. But it would invite sweet temptation and cause her nerves to grow tremulous. “I think for now we should walk.”

“There's something I need to ask.”

Juleah stared at the flame within his eyes and suspected what he needed to say was of a serious, intimate nature. She found herself at a loss for words.

Seth made a slight turn. “To look at you is like looking at a rose after it has rained.”

She laughed lightly. “I would not compare myself to a rose, sir. I’m plain and more lowly born than you know.” She bent over and pulled a dandelion head off its stem. “I do not deserve your compliments.”

Seth frowned and looked amazed at her reply. “Why not?”

“Because I should have told you everything from the start.” Lifting her hand, she released the soft white bracts into the breeze, and they floated off like the down of a bird.

“Here, perhaps this will help.” He drew the choker from his pocket and put it around her neck. As she had anticipated, he encircled his arms around her, drew her under the bower of a weeping willow, bent his head, and brushed his mouth over hers four separate times. The wind rustled the delicate diamond-shaped leaves of the tree that shadowed them.

“Marry me,” he whispered, holding her close.

She looked at him wide-eyed. “What did you say?”

“Marry me, Juleah.”

It could not be helped. She gazed at him with eyes filled with loving him. “You want me, Seth?”

“Yes, I want you as my wife. Say
yes
.” The expression in Seth's face grew desperate. “If you refuse, I’ll go back to Virginia. I won’t be able to bear not having you … you being near.”

“Hush.” She pressed her finger against his lips. “You know my answer. It has always been yes.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. Sunlight pierced the trees and showered silver dust down upon the two lovers. They clung to each other, until the rumble of a carriage that drew near forced them apart. The carriage passed by, and the driver lifted his hat to them.

Seth breathed out heavily and smiled. “I suppose I should take you home. We are, after all, out here in broad daylight for all the world to see.”

She laughed and he took her hand. “It is safer that way,” she said.

They walked on past fields dotted with fleecy sheep. Beyond them, settled on a peaceful plain of green grass, stood her father's house made of white sandstone bricks and tall mullioned windows.

Seth drew her inside, and Juleah called her father.

On the twenty-seventh day of May 1785, a magnificent sunrise painted the sky magenta. Liquid gold edged the clouds. Barn swallows dipped and whirled. In a nearby field, sheep wandered close to the stream that cut through it. Trees budded, apple blossoms fell as if flakes of pink-white snow.

The new minister that now resided at the vicarage arrived by ten in the morning, dressed in rusty black. His Bible and
Book of Common Prayer
were cradled in his arm. An elderly gentleman, Reverend Simon's features were gaunt, with deep-set hazel eyes that reflected kindness and gentleness of soul.

He handed Claire his hat once he proceeded through the door. “I was sent for. Is there sickness here? Is someone in need of last rites?”

Seth smiled and stepped forward to greet him. “There are two of us here, sir, who are heartsick. You were sent for to wed us.”

Reverend Simon wiggled his head and returned the smile. “Ah, I am relieved.”

The ceremony took place in the largest room at Ten Width, commonly used for a chapel. It had been a tradition that all Braxton males wed at Ten Width beneath the roof of their forefathers. Juleah came to Seth, her hand upon her father's arm, her figure draped in pale rose silk. Blue ribbons dangled at her elbows where the sleeves fell in folds of cream-colored lace. Her hair fell long and soft over one shoulder. Her glossy lips parted when she lifted her eyes to meet Seth's. They glowed brighter than the stars in the heavens.

Rock doves cooed in the eaves of the house, as their hands joined before the minister and they spoke their vows. Seth slipped the golden band set with jewels that had belonged to his grandmother over Juleah's finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed, a band of gold for our past, our present, and our future. A ruby for love and diamonds for eternity.”

Eager to seal the marriage, Seth glanced at the minister. Reverend Simon nodded, and Seth lifted his bride up in his arms and kissed her.

The guests stayed for a quiet supper, then departed by nine. Anna Fallowes wiped the tears from her face, kissed Juleah's cheek, and boarded the coach with her husband and children. Even Will and Claire hurried off, to leave Juleah and Seth alone.

In his bedchamber, which they now shared, Juleah slipped on her silk nightdress. Thin white ribbons laced the front. She sat at the dressing table brushing her hair. Tinted with the golden splendor of the candles, she smoothed it over her shoulder and ran her fingers down its length. Excitement filled her, tripped over her skin along with desire. She glanced around the room. How masculine it appeared. A fresh coat of paint would improve its appearance, and white curtains over the windows would bring it warmth and light.