Surrender the Wind (26 page)

Juleah pushed open the door and went inside.

“Juleah, what a pleasant surprise! I wasn’t expecting you.” Anna lifted her back away from the chintz chair. Her features froze in an expression of somber delight, and she gestured for Juleah to enter. The room had a warm, womanly scent to it, of lavender and spring rain.

If this were the sickroom of an ill woman, it fooled Juleah.

Anna's hair hung about her neck in soft ringlets streaked gray. A shawl lay across her shoulders. “There's nothing wrong, is there?” Anna's eyebrows pinched.

“I received a letter saying you were sick.” Juleah folded a blanket and set it at the foot of the bed.

Anna straightened in the chair. “I am well enough I suppose, considering my age. Who sent you such a letter?”

“Yates.”

“He has not stepped foot inside this house in weeks.” Anna rang the silver bell on her table. Sarah entered. “Sarah, did Yates visit Henry Chase recently?”

“He was here a week ago, ma’am.”

Anna sighed. “So strange. I have no idea why Yates would have troubled you. I am worried now.”

“Well, don’t be. It must be a mistake.”

“How can it be? He must know something I do not.”

Juleah went toward her, and her mother's arms went around her in a light hug. “Oh, do not make assumptions, Mother.”

“What else can I do?” Lady Anna pulled back and beheld her daughter's face.

“Papa said you have been quiet and have complaints.”

Anna smiled gently. “There are things a wife does not tell her husband, woman things. Have you come with your handsome husband?”

Juleah sat beside her. “He has gone to London.”

Anna raised her brows. “Without you?”

“I was told you were ill.”

Anna clasped her hands together. “Dear Juleah. You chose to come here instead, to look in on your poor mama because of a mysterious message?”

“How could I ignore it?” Juleah studied her mother's face. She looked tired.

“I am furious with Yates. I shall stew over this until I see him again, and then give him a good talking to. The nerve of the man, upsetting you like that.” She tossed her shawl from off her shoulders and stood.

“He will have an explanation.” Juleah did not want to upset her mother, knowing Anna's mind would race every which way. Yet, uneasiness settled within her, and she began to think something was terribly wrong. Or someone had played a cruel joke on her.

“Let us change the subject,” her mother insisted. Back into her chair she flopped. “Has Seth made you happy?”

Juleah smiled. “Yes. He is good to me and …”

“Romantic? Protective?”

“Indeed he is all that and more.”

Lady Anna picked up her needlework and pulled at some threads. “I am glad you married for love, Juleah. Few women do. They want a husband of quality and means, and for good reason. You were lucky and found both. I have changed my mind about Americans.”

“I am pleased to know it.”

Lady Anna shivered. Juleah reached for the bell. “I shall call Sarah and have her set a fire.”

“That would be good. One moment I’m chilled, the next flushed with heat. Some days the room goes round and I’m tired. My bones ache, and I wake in the middle of the night in a sweat.”

“Then you are ill,” Juleah exclaimed. “I shall have Will ride into town and bring Yates.”

Anna put out a comforting hand to Juleah. “Do not despair. These are woman's ways. It comes to all women. Tell me what news you have.”

Anna threaded a needle with scarlet floss and thrust it into the cloth. Juleah paused, watching her pull the needle through the linen.

“Hetty Shanks was found dead,” said Juleah.

Lady Anna dropped the cloth onto her lap. “What terrible news.”

“Seth believes she was murdered, but Latterbuck argued with him, insisting it was an accident, that if Seth did not stop speaking of it, he would cite him with interfering with the law.”

“It would be best if he were to have no further dealings with Latterbuck.”

“Indeed, but Seth wants justice for Hetty, no matter what she has done.”

“Your husband is a good man, and his principles run deep. It shall be water under the bridge soon enough. Perhaps it really was an accident and you have nothing to fear. I will try to think of that, instead of the possibility of an assassin being about.”

Juleah bit her lower lip and twisted her hair between her fingers. It suddenly frightened her, the idea that a murderer could be near Ten Width.

As darkness fell, Seth's horse wearied. He found a carriage inn near the village of Gastonbury, paid his shilling, and ate a huge supper. After he pulled off his boots, he fell to sleep without undressing, upon a mattress stuffed with straw. He barely noticed its discomfort or how low the night wind blew through the brick hearth. His dreams took him back to Juleah and Virginia.

Dawn broke clear and he climbed into the saddle and headed east. He rode past Gaston Abby and took the high road that led toward County Wiltshire. Trees were heavy with leaf. Spring wheat sprouted in the fields. Grassy meadows were emerald in the sunshine, and he wondered how green the pastures of Virginia must be.

His heart grew heavy, and he longed for his land, his oak, and his river.
England will never be home.

Neither rider nor carriage met him on his journey thus far. At a bend in the road, he traveled southeast, made his way through Hampshire and Surry, through leafy forests that led him toward the bustling city of London.

The capital was unlike any city he had seen. Larger than Williamsburg and Annapolis, it was a hurly-burly of activity, a city filled with diversions. Thames Street bustled with merchants and travelers as Seth made his way toward Fleet Street and The Strand. Vendors hawked their wares. Carriages and coaches lumbered over cobblestone streets and parked outside
elegant townhouses. Tea and coffeehouses, inns and shops, were filled with patrons.

Soon Seth found himself passing through the lowly east end. It was dark and sooty, the people poverty stricken, in tattered castoff clothing. Troops of orphans huddled in doorways, begged on the streets. It saddened him, and he handed what coins he could spare to as many as he could.

Closer to the better part of London, the startling contrast between rich and poor was evident. Along the streets, they mingled. Gentlemen purchased bouquets for their ladies from poor flower girls and had their boots polished by barefoot lads. Messenger boys waited on the corners for an assignment. Ladies in fine dresses and hats moved far from the reaches of scummy hands.

Woven between both classes were missionaries that ministered to the poor, the drunkard, the homeless, the prostitute, the orphan, and the infirm. When he turned one corner, two Methodists helped a one-legged man into a cart.

“Worry not,” one said. “There’ll be a bed for you tonight and a hearty meal.”

The missionaries’ compassion convicted Seth. There were people in the country who were needy, and he wondered what he could do to ease their plight. He decided, as he rode farther into the heart of London, they could use another physician in the country. Perhaps he could persuade a young man to leave London.

Presently the somber gates of Newgate heralded a darker side of the city. Seth glanced at them briefly. He moved his horse on and headed into the heart of the west side. After he acquired directions from a street vendor, he was glad to find his sister and her new husband living in a fine house sandwiched between blond-bricked homes.

He left his horse moored to the iron ring out front and stepped up to the door.

A servant pulled it open. Her face was round as an apple, freckled, and she was no beauty. Her brows were thick, joined as one above a pair of almond-shaped eyes that sat back in her head. Her mouth extended in a thin line and her teeth did not show when she spoke. But her gentle manner, faint smile, and pleasant lilt of her voice made up for what she lacked in looks.

“This way, sir,” she said. “Mistress Caroline is away, but the master of the house is at home.”

Seth stood in the brightly lit study that belonged to Michael Bray. He waited, and a sparrow flew to the windowsill. For a moment, it stared back at him, spread its wings, and flew off.

“Seth!” Bray bounded into the room. “It is good to see you.”

Seth turned. “And you. Are Caroline and my nephew well?”

Bray glanced back out into the hallway. “Very well. You have come without Juleah?”

Seth pulled off his riding gloves, noting Bray's surprise. “She's with her mother.”

Bray's smile vanished. “She hasn’t left you, has she?”

Seth's grin glided over his lips. “No, we are happy. Lady Anna is ill, and she thought it best she stay at Henry Chase until she recovers.”

“Then we are two men alone. Caroline and Nathaniel are visiting my aunt in Bristol.” Bray poured Seth a glass of ale and handed it to him. “She is old and alone, and Caroline, after learning of her, asked to visit her.”

Seth took the glass in hand. “Something of importance kept you from going with her?”

“My business prevented me. We’ve decided to settle someday in Virginia. It is Caroline's true home, after all. Riches we shall never have, but we shall be happy.”

Feeling envious, Seth smiled, and grabbed Bray's hand to shake it. “Grand news indeed. I hope to see home again as well with Juleah. There's enough Braxton land there to divide between us.”

Bray shook his head. “Oh, no. I never meant to imply—”

“You implied nothing, Michael. It is my father's legacy and he would want Caroline to have part of it. Think of it as a wedding present.”

Bray blinked his eyes. “I’m speechless, Seth.”

“Five hundred acres will do for you, but you’ll have to build a house.”

“With all my sweat and blood, I shall.”

“Believe me, it shall take every ounce.” Seth proceeded to a chair. “Now what was so urgent that you called me to London.”

Bray's countenance shifted to bewilderment. “I sent you no letter.”

Something dreadful jerked inside Seth. “It is signed by you.”

“Do you have it? Let me see.”

Seth handed it over. He watched his brother-in-law's expression grow troubled. The note had not come from him. Something was wrong.

“This is not in my hand,” Bray said. “What person would send you this and forge my name?”

Seth's heart lurched with fear, and he set his mouth hard. A sudden sensation, as if his body had been plunged into icy water, shot through him. He stood. “It is clear I’ve fallen into some scoundrel's trap.”

He hurried out into the hall, strode to the front door. “I must leave at once. Juleah could be in danger. She also received a message and no doubt it too is a lie.”

His hand trembled as he reached for the brass door handle. He would have gone out into the street to his horse, but Bray thrust his body between the door and the jamb.

“I’m going with you.” His voice was determined, his face taut. “If there is danger, two are better than one to face it. Ella!” She appeared from the back of the house. “You must pack me a change of clothes. I’ll saddle my horse and bring it around front.”

Her eyes enlarging, Ella nodded. “When will you return, sir?”

“I do not know. Tell Cook, I shall not be needing dinner tonight.” Bray pulled on his leather riding gloves and hurried out the back.

Seth sprang into the saddle and pulled Jupiter away. Impatience overwhelmed him. His heart pounded in his chest hard and rapid. The palms of his hands were slick with sweat beneath his gloves.

A moment later, their horses’ hooves pounded the earth as darkness swallowed the last glimmer of twilight. Out of the city, the wind shoved against their bodies, as if unseen forces prevented them. Keeping to the high road toward the west, they rode with swiftness, beneath a night sky darkening with ponderous clouds.

On the evening Juleah left Henry Chase, the sun sank below a ragged horizon flushed violet and gave way to the descending night. The cart rattled over the road misty with twilight.

Juleah pinched her brows and stared out at the fields. “Why would Yates send me a message claiming Mother was ill and it not be so?”

Claire shook her head. “Lady Anna would never conceal an illness from you, Miss Juleah.”