Surrender the Wind (8 page)

A painting hung on the wall to the right of him. The moon escaped the cover of a cloud and its gentle rays came through the glass in the window. It brightened the room enough for him to see the painting was Ten Width.

Movement came from the hallway above. He glanced up. The rustle of a woman's skirt glided across the floor. Amber light shone across the lady's cheek from the candlelight. Seth realized by the color of her hair, she could not be his sister.

Startled by what his eyes beheld, his breath caught in his throat. She came down the staircase in a frock of brown muslin; a touch of white lace edged the bodice and touched her bare skin. Her free hand ran along the balustrade, fingers delicate and smooth. Here he beheld the girl in the portrait, the face he secretly admired.

The same eyes, yet, through candlelight, a pair of amber gems edged with dark lashes took him prisoner. Above them, her brows arched in a graceful line against milky skin. To see her living and breathing made his heart race and he could not help but stare.

Once she had drawn closer, he could tell she’d been crying.

As for Juleah, Seth Braxton was nothing like what she had imagined. Where were the cruel eyes, the lined face that had gone unguarded from the sun? He should be an ugly man, a repulsive vagrant. Instead, he was handsome, his face arresting.

Kindness marked his expression, yet his eyes were turbulent and potent, the darkest blue she had ever seen, interrupted with flecks of slate. Brooding and fathomless, Juleah felt them upon her, and she glanced away.

He bowed and kept his gaze upon her. “You must be Juleah Fallowes.”

Amazed by this deduction, Juleah's lips parted. “How did you know me?”

“I saw your portrait in your uncle's house.”

“It is of no likeness to me now, I’m sure.”

“If I told you a living person is better to behold than what an artist may render, we might stand here for the next hour debating.”

She frowned. “I doubt we would, Mr. Braxton.”

“Have I upset you? Have I said something offensive?”

“No, not at all.” Juleah swallowed the tight feeling in her throat.

“Where is my sister? Why hasn’t she come down?”

“I’ll tell her you’ve arrived, to prepare her, if you do not mind waiting outside her door.”

A wail followed and startled them both. The sobs went on a moment and stopped. Juleah lifted her skirts and turned to rush up the stairs. Seth stopped her with a touch of his hand.

“Tell me what has happened. Is that her?”

Juleah looked at him, her heart broken, her face heated as if with a fever. “Her child has died. He was only two years old and her whole world. You must let me go to her.”

Seth pulled back his hand and moved past Juleah up the stairs.

When they reached the bedroom, Seth hurried over to his sister. Juleah's heart lurched to see Seth go down on one knee at Caroline's beside. At the touch of his hand, Caroline turned her face to see him.

“Seth?” Caroline lifted her hand out of his and touched his cheek.

“After so long, you know me?”

“There, above your right brow is the scar in the shape of a half-moon. Remember when we were children, you chased me up a hill and I threw a stone at you to stop your teasing? Remember how I cried, for the wound bled badly and I thought you would die?” Her body shuddered, and her voice quivered with the force of tears.

“Yes, I remember,” he said. “I deserved it.”

“Is it you! Oh, Seth!” She threw her arms around his neck and embraced the brother she had longed to see again.

Juleah slipped out. While she closed the door behind her, her heart ached. For the Braxtons, one tragedy led to another. What salt to the wounds would this new turn of events add or remove?

L
ate into the night, Seth and Caroline sat upstairs together. The glow of the low fire colored Caroline's face, and the joy of her brother's arrival moved her to get out of bed and gather her strength. Claire helped her dress, and now Caroline sat with her legs pulled up beside her in the chair. Her face was lined deeply with grief, and Seth wondered what he could possibly say to comfort her.

“I’m sorry, Seth,” she moaned. “You’ve come at such a sad time, and I’m not well.”

“There's nothing to forgive.”

“Oh, there is more than you know.”

Disturbed by what she meant, he looked at her a long while. “I wish I had come sooner. Perhaps I could have done something.”

“You must not feel that way.” She looked over at him with a struggle. “I’m glad you are here.”

He went on to change the subject. “I cannot believe how you’ve changed. You are not the little girl I once knew.”

“Indeed not. And you … you are not the lad I romped with. I remember how strong you were as a boy. You’d lift me
up into the oak tree near the house so I could climb with you. Father would get angry and command us down.”

“He was afraid you’d fall. The tree is still there.”

“Is it? Has the house changed?”

“War aged it, but it still stands.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Did you suffer in the war?”

“Hardship was unavoidable.”

“I cried when Grandfather told me Father died at Yorktown.” Caroline drew her hands up against her breast. “Where is he now I wonder? In heaven, you think?”

“Yes, in heaven with our mother.”

Caroline closed her eyes. “I hope it is true, for I imagine heaven is a beautiful place where there is no sorrow or pain. Perhaps when we go there we are children again, like my son.”

From his breast pocket, Seth pulled out the locket and gold chain. “Father carried this with him through the war. It is now yours.”

Caroline took it from his hand and opened the front. “It is Mother. She was gentle and kind. Why are those we have loved taken from us too soon?”

He looked away. “I cannot say.”

Caroline closed the locket and put it around her neck. “You and I must tell each other everything. And if you decide to send me away, I will go.”

Seth leaned forward and picked up her hand. He could tell by the expression in her face that the gesture comforted her. “Send you away? I’d never do that.”

“People will be cruel, and they’ll say terrible things about me that will embarrass you.”

“I’ll not let a harsh word toward you pass any man's lips. I don’t care how they treat me. Wagging tongues will never cease,
no matter where you go. Besides, I’ll be the one to embarrass you, being a Yankee.”

Claire set a tray on the table. She lifted the cover off a platter of food. “I suppose it's been a while since you had good home-cooked meals, sir.”

“It has, at least by womanly hands.”

“Perhaps you can persuade Miss Caroline to eat something.”

He looked over at his sister. “I cannot eat alone, Caroline.”

Claire spoke up desperately. “Please try, Miss Caroline. It’ll strengthen you.”

“What about Juleah?” Caroline said.

“She had a bite to eat in the kitchen with Will and me. Don’t you worry.”

Claire bent and lifted the blanket that had slipped off Caroline's lap, set it over her mistress, and left the room. It satisfied Seth to know a servant cared so much for his sister.

With no more hesitation, Caroline lifted the spoon, but set it back down. “I cannot eat.” Her face stiffened with sorrow and he saw her struggle to push back tears.

“Caroline.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Let us talk, Seth. It will help me. Was it a shock to inherit Ten Width?”

Seth nodded. “More than I can say.”

“Grandfather blessed you before he died.”

“Did he? I’m surprised.”

“He repented of the breach between him and Father—and you.”

“People seem to wait until the final hour to make amends.”

“At least he made them.”

“He may have reconciled his sin with God, but not with me.”

She reached over and touched his hand. “It's never too late. Try to forgive him. He was stubborn and opinionated, but he took good care of me.”

Seth paused to sample the coffee Claire had brewed, which tasted better than the gritty concoction he was accustomed to. “Have you been happy here?”

“The happiest when I had my son. I’ll never be happy again. They took him away and he's gone. How shall I live without him?” She trembled and buried her face against his arm and cried.

He held her a long while, until she exhausted her sorrow. Then he helped her back into bed. A candle softened and the room darkened.

“Seth,” she said, a plea in her eyes. “Please, I must talk more with you.”

“I am here. Say anything you wish, Caroline.”

She turned her eyes straight ahead and looked as though she saw the painful past.

“Four years ago, I fell in love with a man named Jeremy Kenley. His father had other matrimonial plans for him, and he threatened to disinherit Jeremy if we were to wed. I was not good enough for him, too poor in Sir Charles's eyes, too meanly born. But we continued to see each other.

“One night, we gave in to our passions, and I conceived a child. You are shocked by this and must hate me now?”

He pulled the chair closer. “Hate you? I could never do that.”

“Then you will stay with me, even a little while.”

“Of course I will.”

She looked at him and shivered. “I am relieved. Tell me about the war and all you went through.”

He glanced down at his hands, imagining the traces of gunpowder burns. “We will have plenty of time for that. You must tell me the rest.”

She drew herself up higher on the pillows and turned to face him. “Jeremy came to Ten Width week after week and was sent away. I sent his letters back too.”

“Why? If he loved you …”

“I did not want to shame him, nor did I wish to feel the sting of rejection. I had been a virtuous young woman, yet in one night I fell prey to temptation. Harsh consequences were certain for both of us. Ten Width became my prison. Depression clung to me. At night I cried myself to sleep, and when a new day dawned, I faced it with dread. I did not know what to do. Then one morning I saw Juleah walking up the drive. I realized I had to confide in my best friend. When I told her about the child, I was moved to tears by her kindness.

“She told me I had to tell Grandfather, that he loved me and would make things right. Then she urged me to tell Jeremy. I felt ashamed, and I told her I could not do it. She insisted it would be wrong not to. If I did not tell Grandfather and Jeremy, she swore she would. So, I dried my tears, took hold of my friend's hand, and we walked together into the study. I shall never forget the way Grandfather looked up at us, knowing a grave matter was at hand.

“At first, he was distraught, but said what was done could not be undone. He ordered me to pen a letter. Jeremy arrived the next day. He fell on his knees in front of me, gathered up my hands in his, and kissed them. We were married in the village church the next morning. He was willing to risk everything for our love and the sake of our child.

“Now he is gone, and so is my Nathaniel.” Tears surged in her eyes and trembled on the tips of her lashes. “I wish God would take me to heaven.”

Her tears and words sliced through Seth like daggers. When she fell asleep exhausted, he quietly left the room and went downstairs. Running his hand across his face, he stood by the fire to think.

“Is Miss Caroline asleep, sir?” Claire asked in a soft voice, by the door.

“Yes, and soundly, I think.”

“I’ll say good night, sir.” She went to leave the room, but paused by the door. “We’re all grateful you’ve come to Ten Width. You being here will help Miss Caroline. She's been through a difficult time.”

“I’ll need your help, won’t I, Claire?”

“Yes, sir. Your room is ready. It's the first door on the right down the hall upstairs.” Claire held out her arm in that direction. “It was the squire's room. Shall I show you to it?”

“No, I’ll find it,” he said.

Claire gave him a quick curtsey and left.

After he kicked a coal back into the fire, he walked over to the window. He gazed outside at the rain and gloom. His heart grew heavy and he was homesick. He turned. Juleah's head of dark curls lay pillowed upon her arms on the settee. For a moment, he stared at her with some consternation. Why was she sleeping here? He dared not wake her, not knowing what a man should do in such a case.

A north wind swooped down hard upon the house, against the windows now dark and covered with rain.

Curled up in the folds of a woolly blanket, Juleah looked beautiful and peaceful. He gazed at her face, at the soft eyelids, the dark lashes that brushed against her skin as she breathed
through parted lips. He imagined she had been untouched by hardship, unacquainted with hunger. Life had to have been easy for such a woman. Her hands were soft, absent of scar or callous. By them, he supposed she had never done a day's work in her life, never hauled water from the river or kneaded bread dough, never washed her own clothing or scrubbed a floor.

No, not with those hands. She had been pampered and waited upon, and it was in such a woman's mind that life should not be any other way.

The room grew colder, and he placed more logs on the fire. Within moments, warmth permeated and held, and the scent of cedar filled the air. Before he left, he reached down and brought the throw closer around Juleah's shoulders without touching her.