Surrender the Wind Page 18

  It was the same with the series of events that had come into Seth's life. He swore to himself he’d find the weakest link, break it, and thus cause the plot against his family to disintegrate.

  Within an hour, Constable Latterbuck appeared at Seth's door.

  21

  Constable Latterbuck stood on the Persian rug in the foyer and waited for the master of Ten Width to acknowledge his arrival. Impatiently, he drummed his sausage-like fingers on the table beside him. He glanced over the paintings, the tapestry, and the way sunlight came through the windows. He tried to make an honest assessment of the place and wondered what the rest of the house looked like. Already he was bored, and a wide toothy yawn overtook him; he pressed a meaty palm over his gaping mouth. He had been in the middle of an enjoyable nap when Will roused him and entreated him to come at once, claiming a body lay in the woods, that a murder had been committed.

  “A murder?” he had said to Will. “No murder happens in my district. More than likely an accident.”

  He recalled that the master of Ten Width had recently sent him a strange letter, where he claimed odd happenings were afoot at the old place, but Latterbuck didn’t believe it. Being contrary to every person who claimed any knowledge a’tall of a crime being committed, he ignored the urgings of the squire to meet with him and his sister to discuss the matter.

  What was done was done. Why bother with situations that have been resolved or come to a happy ending? More important matters needed attention in the immediate, namely keeping an unblemished record intact. If there were no crimes committed, people would believe he was responsible for the peace. He’d be a formidable force to those who would have mischief in mind.

  Latterbuck stood in the hall and yawned a second time. He grew increasingly impatient and called out. “I say, is anyone coming or not!”

  Juleah came into the hallway. She paused when Latterbuck extended a clumsy bow. Upon his feet were large black shoes decorated with dull brass buckles. The light silhouetted his large frame. For duty, he wore a heavy buff coat with large whalebone buttons and gray stockings over bulging calves and thick ankles.

  Latterbuck's stomach growled and gurgled. His stained waistcoat stretched over his enlarged belly, separating between the buttonholes, and revealed the dingy shirt beneath.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, stifling a belch. He pulled his watch from his pocket and looked at the time. “The day is getting away from me. Is your husband coming or not?”

  “He is, Constable, and shall be but a moment. He is changing his clothes.”

  “Why? We are not going to a ball, ma’am.”

  “I suggested it. What he wore earlier is too fine for such matters at hand.”

  Latterbuck lifted a plump finger in the air. “Ah, not wishing to have them soiled is he? Well, he’ll not touch anything he should not, ma’am. I’ll see to that. But do not let the maid clean those clothes, for they may be evidence.”

  Juleah laughed. “Evidence, sir? I think not.”

  “You’d be surprised what a coat or a pair of boots can tell. But it's nothing for you to worry your pretty head over. This is man's work.” Again, his stomach rumbled.

  Juleah narrowed her eyes. “I would prefer you not reference me in that manner.”

  Latterbuck appeared confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “You said I should not worry my pretty head, sir.”

  “Oh, I do apologize.” Latterbuck gave her an awkward bow. “It was improper, but true, ma’am.”

  Juleah glanced back toward the door that led to the kitchen. “Would you like something to eat before you go?” She drew him away with a gesture of her hand.

  “If it is no trouble.” He stepped alongside her. “I must tell you it is hard to do this job on an empty stomach. I have no wife you know.”

  “Have you no cook?” she asked.

  “Indeed, madam, I do. And a good one at that.”

  Juleah showed him through to the kitchen. Claire was gathering apples from the barrel into her apron.

  “Claire, please set a plate for the constable,” Juleah said.

  Claire emptied the apples into a bowl and shortly plopped a plate of seared beef, bread, and potatoes in front of him. He stared at the plate of food, leaned over it, and sniffed to take in its aroma.

  “No ale, my girl?”

  Claire gave him a scowl and pulled a tin mug from off the shelf, yanked the tap on the keg, and made sure his portion was filled mostly with foam. She set it in front of him and waited.

  Latterbuck licked his lips and wiggled his fingers. “This ale is better than what I’m accustomed to, even with the foam.” Saliva formed in the corners of his broad lips.

  Juleah watched him and wondered if he had the kind of mind given to detection. He smelled of rum and tobacco. He ate with his mouth open. Food fell on the front of his waistcoat and, to her surprise, he’d pick it off and pop whatever it was into his mouth. Repulsed by his table manners, by the gravy that dripped down his chin, she handed him a napkin. But he lifted his beefy arm and wiped his mouth across his sleeve. He slopped bread through the gravy and shoved it into his mouth. He picked up the last crumb on the plate, sucked each finger in turn, and then swiped his hands with the cloth.

  “Have you more?”

  Claire stood back with her hands over her hips. “No. Unless you wish a dish of stewed apples.”

  “I never eat fruit. It's bad for my digestion.” He tossed the napkin down and rose from the table. “Don’t you find fruit bad for the digestion, Mrs. Braxton?”

  Juleah shifted in her chair and stood. “I cannot say I do.”

  “Well, I can, dear lady. I can.” Latterbuck put his hand over his mouth, puffed out his cheeks, and burped.

  Through the door walked Seth. “Ah, Constable Latterbuck.” He finished the top button to his waistcoat. “It's about time we met. You ignored my previous request. As fate would have it, Hetty's death drew you to reply. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “Never mind, sir. Your good wife provided me with distraction and your girl a plate of food. The time has flown by delightfully.”

  Seth glanced at his wife. “Distraction?”

  “A hardy meal and a pretty lady does a man's constitution good. A compliment to your good wife, sir.” Latterbuck bowed.

  She picked up Latterbuck's plate. “It is not to my credit, Constable, but to Claire's. You should thank her, for she's a better cook than I could ever be.”

  Latterbuck pushed out his upper lip and bowed in Claire's direction. “Well, a woman who is pretty as well as a good cook, I imagine has no lack of beaus. Right, Claire?” He rubbed her chin between his greasy forefinger and thumb. She frowned and jerked back.

  “We should be off,” he said, squashing on his hat. “Come, Squire. Show me the poor wretch that lies in your woods dead.”

  Will had run all the way to town to find Latterbuck and had hitched a ride behind Latterbuck's deputy back to Ten Width. Since he had no horse of his own, he jogged alongside Seth's.

  Worried he would exhaust himself, Seth looked down from atop Jupiter at the energetic lad. “You can ride behind me, Will. Or perhaps behind the deputy again.”

  Will kept up his pace. “No, sir. A good run does me just fine. It wouldn’t be proper for me to be seated behind you, sir. I don’t mind telling you that oaf probably hasn’t had a proper washing in a year. I can’t stand the smell of him.”

  Seth laughed.

  When they reached their destination, he dismounted and looped the reins over a branch. Latterbuck slipped from his mount and followed Seth and Will into the woods. His deputy waited beside the horses.

  Latterbuck heaved a breath. “What is tied to the tree?”

  “My neckcloth,” replied Seth. “I thought it best to mark the spot.”

  “Ah, good thinking.” When Latterbuck spied the body, he put on his steel spectacles and placed a dingy handkerchief over his nose. He paused for several minutes, looking but not to
uching.

  “Obviously an accident.” He grunted and turned away.

  Stunned by his rapid conclusion, Seth stepped up to him. “How can you say that? It is obvious the woman was murdered. Do not tell me you cannot see it.”

  “An accident, sir.” Latterbuck stepped over a thick root that protruded from the ground.

  “I’ll have you know there hasn’t been a murder in my district since 1776, the year the Colonies revolted against good King George, God save him. It's always an accident. They leave the tavern intoxicated, or they travel in the dark and fall over a cliff, or wander into the sea. Or like here, they take a shortcut home through the woods, fall, hit their head on a rock, and are found a few days later dead as a doornail. Nay, sir. No murder is done in my district.”

  Agitated by Latterbuck's avoidance of the truth, Seth moved in front of him. “I do not agree. Look at her again.”

  Latterbuck huffed. “Who appointed you in charge?”

  Seth set his mouth and stared hard at Latterbuck. “It doesn’t take much to see what happened to this woman. Look at her face and throat. She's been hit and hit hard. Look at the bruises on her wrists and arms. Would you not say they are indicative of a struggle? She was fighting back.”

  Latterbuck shrugged. “Women easily bruise. Those are but marks from heavy work.”

  Seth let out a breath of extreme irritation. “What kind of heavy work would do that? Besides she was a nursemaid, not a farmhand.”

  Latterbuck groaned and moved past Seth. “This poor wretch's mortal remains shall be taken to the sexton at the church for burial.”

  “That is all you will do?” Seth cried.

  Latterbuck turned on him. “Give the poor woman some respect, young sir. She died before reaching elder years and should be given proper treatment. There's nothing more to do.”

  Latterbuck turned on his heels and headed for his horse. Once he reached the road, Seth glanced back at Hetty and swore under his breath. “A false witness shall not go unpunished.”

  Hearing this, Latterbuck stopped and whirled around. “What was that?”

  “Hetty Shanks was a false witness. I can prove it.”

  “Go on, not that it matters now.”

  In detail, Seth proceeded to retell Latterbuck the sequence of events that led up to his conversation with Mave. “Captain Bray was with me when we stopped at Hetty's cottage. The door was left unlocked and she was gone.”

  “Many folks leave their doors unlocked. It's nothing unusual.”

  “We followed footprints in the mud until they trailed off, one being that of a man, the other of a woman, and there were hoof marks as well.”

  “Ah, Hetty had a sweetheart.” Latterbuck smiled cynically.

  “Yes, so it seems.”

  “A name?”

  “I do not know, only that he was a large fellow.”

  “Look here, young lad, let me deal with this. I’ll go to her cottage and have a look around. But you must rein in your urge to do my job.”

  “It would give me ease if you saw this for what it is, Constable.”

  Latterbuck shook his head. “I’ve been doing this job for twenty-five years. I know the difference between a murder and an accident. As for the former events you’ve unfolded, I see no reason to go into it any further. Sleeping dogs must lie, good sir.”

  Seth frowned at Latterbuck. “Sleeping dogs that have committed a crime?”

  Latterbuck threw up his hands. “I see no proof of any crime. You must understand, we do things differently compared to wherever it is you are from.”

  Seth set his mouth. “I’m from Virginia, sir.”

  “Of course you are. And here in Devonshire life goes by at a slow, quiet pace. That is how people like it. Sometimes folks make mistakes of identity, children are misplaced, and facts are misunderstood. I’m sure that's all that happened with Hetty and your nephew. It was a mistake and not a conspiracy.”

  “You are as blind as you are gluttonous,” Seth told him.

  Latterbuck turned red in the face and let out a puff of air. “I advise you to watch what you say. Speak no more what might incriminate you.”

  Seth flexed his hands. “I’ve said nothing to implicate myself in this foul business.”

  “You’ve admitted to seeking this wretch out for a misdeed done to your family.”

  “I did, sir. You may recall I sent a letter to you weeks ago. You preferred to ignore it. I’ve nothing to hide.”

  “Bide your time, sir. In the meanwhile, hold your tongue.”

  Seth folded his arms across his chest in defiance. “I hold myself ready to answer any questions you have, Constable. Is that clear to you?”

  Latterbuck twisted his mouth. “Indeed it is. Have no doubt I shall have them ready for you.”

  Seth viewed this advice as a means to tighten the ropes that already bound the truth. Outraged at Latterbuck's blindness, he stood aside. Could Latterbuck ignore what his eyes told him in order to protect his unblemished reputation? How could he not desire justice for Hetty? If she had been a lady of quality, Seth wondered if Latterbuck's deduction would be different.

  “George, lift it,” Latterbuck ordered. His deputy moved to obey.

  “Will, put her in our cart,” Seth said.

  Latterbuck countered the order. “Bind the body to the saddle, George. Go gently. Steady.”

  Seth notched the earth with the heel of his boot. Will, equally incredulous, kept his eyes on Latterbuck, then glanced at Seth. They watched as the droopy-eyed deputy lifted Hetty from the ground and swung her stiff and swollen body over his shoulder. His knees buckled under the weight. He carried her over to his horse and tied her body to the saddle. The constable's horse blew out a snort when Latterbuck put his foot in the stirrup and, with an effort, hoisted himself back into the saddle.

  He bid Seth a good day and touched the rim of his hat. Beads of sweat stood out upon his domed forehead. Seth watched him turn his horse out onto the road and ride off with a slackened rein, with his servant on foot to lead the burdened horse.

  22

  Disconcerted by the flippancy over such important matters as a death and by the constable's offhanded remarks, Seth, with Will beside him, watched Latterbuck and his mate disappear down the road. He balled his fists and strode hard over to his horse. He sent Will home and rode over the fields at a brisk pace.

  An hour later, when he turned on the road back to Ten Width, another rider galloped toward him. The man reined in, drew off his hat, and set it across his thigh.

  “Sir, is this the road to Ten Width? I’m uncertain if I should have taken the turn north a half-mile back.”

  “You’re on the right,” Seth answered. “What brings you to Ten Width?”

  “A letter for the gentleman who lives there.”

  “I am he.” His restless horse sidestepped and he looped the reins around his gloved hand to control it.

  The messenger looked at him warily. “Are you?”

  “Yes, my name is Seth Braxton.”

  At ease now, the messenger settled in his saddle, drew the letter out of his saddlebag and handed it over. Then he turned his horse and galloped off. Curious, Seth broke the seal and read the message. His expression softened. He folded the page and tucked it away inside his coat.

  He galloped closer to the gates that greeted him, gazed at the house. Loneliness for his father's land seized him. He missed the quiet murmur of the Potomac, the ancient trees of the forests, the meadows of wildflowers and bluegrass. He recalled when the wind blew through the mountains, it whispered of ages past and smelled of laurel and leaf. He glanced up at the sky and wished he could leave this place and go home with his beloved.

  Someday.

  Juleah met him at the door. A soiled apron covered her dress; a smudge of dirt marred her cheek. Smiling, she pushed back her hair from her face with the back of her hand. In the shade of the ivy she gazed at him, and his heart raced. She was the reason he had stayed, the reason he lived.


  She reached up, smoothed back a lock of hair from his forehead, as was her habit to do. “What is it, my love? It did not go well?”

  Seth hung his head, lifted up her hands, and pressed his lips upon them. He could not describe his outrage. “Latterbuck believes it was an accident,” he said. “I know different. But there's nothing I can do.”

  Juleah sighed. “Time will reveal the truth. God is not slack in such things.”

  “There is something else.” He removed the letter from his breast pocket. “I’ve received a letter from Michael asking us to come to London immediately. He says it is urgent. We should go. Can you be ready in an hour?”

  Juleah looked worried. “Less than that. It may not be anything to fret over, do you think? Otherwise, he would have said so. Perhaps he has some business he wishes to discuss with you.”

  Seth held her about the waist. “No matter what it is, I’ve wanted to take you away. I’m sure there’ll be more exciting things to do in London than in the country.”

  “London has its diversions, that is true. But I prefer the quiet life we have here.”

  “You mean you are not bored?”

  “I keep busy. Come and see what I have been doing.” She pulled him by the arm to the back of the house, past a row of boxwood and yews, until they reached a plot of tilled soil.

  He was indeed pleased at her industrious nature. “What have you planted?”

  “Herbs. They were growing in the hothouse, and I thought it such a waste they had been neglected. Thyme, sage, and parsley are here. Spring onion and rosemary there. The lavender I have kept separate by those stones.”

  Seth did not know why, but an overwhelming sorrow rushed through him, and he felt some dreaded thing would come between them. She bent to touch the tender plants. The man within him broke and he lifted her, held her against his chest in a strong embrace. His hands encircled her face, and he kissed her cheeks until he found her lips.

  He walked with Juleah into the house, where sunlight flowed through the windows in dusty shafts. She removed her straw hat, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders and down her back. It caught the light and Seth caught his breath.