Surrender the Wind Read online

  Seth listened in an effort to absorb the information she put forth. “I imagine he wanted his privacy.”

  The boy stared at Seth with boyish curiosity. “Mother, do you suppose the gentleman carries a brace of pistols with him under his coat?”

  The mother squeezed her son's arm to silence him. “You must forgive me for asking. But by your speech, it is evident you are an American. Is it from there you hail?”

  “It is, ma’am. I was raised in Virginia.”

  She put her hand against her heart and sighed. “Virginia. I hear she is pretty alongside her neighbor Maryland. I find it laudatory they are named after noble women. Don’t you?”

  Seth nodded and settled back against the seat. “Yes, but deceptive as well. Their wildernesses are treachery and beauty combined … like women.”

  The lady laughed, and her son continued to stare over at Seth with interest.

  “Sir, do they have highwaymen in Virginia and Maryland?” the boy queried.

  “I’ve met none, young sir,” Seth told him.

  “Were you a soldier in the last war?”

  The mother snatched her son's hand and shook it again in reproof. “You mustn’t ask the gentleman such questions, Thomas. It is not proper.” Her hazel eyes softened when she looked back at Seth. “I suppose it is natural for my boy to be inquisitive.”

  The right corner of Seth's mouth curved. “I was a patriot. I think here in England it would be wise I not bring it up.”

  The boy's eyes widened. “Have you fought with Indians?”

  “I had a few encounters, yes.”

  “Is it true the savages eat the flesh of their enemies?”

  “Where did you hear that, young sir?”

  “I read it in a book. My father keeps it in his library.”

  “Well, don’t believe everything you read.” Seth put his elbow up on the windowsill and relaxed. “Indians are a noble people, great warriors, and skilled hunters. To the surprise of some, they’re more civilized than people imagine.”

  “Someday, I’ll go to America and see them for myself.” The boy held out his hand to shake Seth's. “My name is Thomas Fallowes. This is my mother, Lady Anna, and my sister, Jane. Jane's twelve. I am eight. Jane is very shy of strangers, sir. That is why she has not spoken to you.”

  “I see. Have you any other brothers or sisters?”

  “One other. Juleah is the eldest,” said Mrs. Fallowes, her tone proud.

  What had been the chance of this? Slim to none. Could Juleah be anything like her mother; fine figured, pale of skin, soft in gesture and manner, yet lacking beauty? Anna's hair was dove-gray, which matched the color of her cloak. Delicate lines graced the edges of her eyes. Her mouth was thin and pouty. She looked nothing like her daughter, according to Mr. Brown.

  “Your name, sir?” the lady asked.

  He gave her a nod. “Seth Braxton, at your service.”

  The lady looked stunned, bewildered, intrigued, while her large eyes stared back at him through the dim light. “I should have realized you are Benjamin's relation.”

  “His grandson to be exact.”

  “My goodness, sir. You should have said so.”

  “My apologies. I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “Oh, it does. So many whispers these days as to your grandfather's dying, about your dear, unfortunate sister, Caroline. We mustn’t discuss the intimate details of your family, nor the reason you have come of a sudden. But I find it by chance we should meet, for we know the same people and are somewhat neighbors.”

  Seth nodded. “Yes, it is coincidental.”

  “You must come dine one evening and meet my husband, Henry, and our daughter Juleah.”

  Again, Seth inclined his head. “I’d be honored.”

  “Caroline must come as well. We’ve not seen her in a long time. I suppose the grief of losing her grandfather has done it.”

  “Yes,” Seth agreed. “I suppose that must be the reason.”

  “It takes a long time for a woman, Mr. Braxton. We are sensitive creatures. I shall have my husband send forth an invitation as soon as you are settled.”

  With a crack of the coachman's whip, the horses pulled the coach up a single steep street into Clovelly, a medieval hamlet of thatched cottages.

  The lady pulled her children close. “Clovelly at last. We are proud of it, Mr. Braxton. It is the most beautiful seaside village in England.”

  Here the lady and her children disembarked. A carriage awaited them, sent by Sir Henry Fallowes to carry his family the rest of the route up the winding roads that led to their home six miles northeast.

  Farewells being said, Seth watched Lady Anna set off with her children. He would see them again, for it was inevitable he and Juleah Fallowes should meet.

  Having disembarked, Seth made his way down a narrow street that pitched sharply toward the sea five hundred feet below the village. He could hear the waves lap against the quay and pound the rocks in the windswept harbor. He looked down and saw a stone breakwater, curved like a pirate's hook into the sea. A seawall was draped in seaweed and the dark brown nets and traps of fishermen draped over the seawall.

  He paused and asked a man seated in his doorway, which way to Banes's house. Up the path he must return, go past a row of quaint cottages along a cobblestone street, and walk north for a quarter of a mile to a bleak timber-and-plaster house at the side of the road. From his coat pocket, he took out the address given to him and checked it against the brass plate fixed beside the door under the glare of a lantern. Sea air had turned the plate green. He walked up the stairs, raised his fist, and knocked on the door.

  The door opened. A servant stood inside, one hand firm upon the latch, the other holding a candle. The golden flame cast a light over Seth's face, and the housekeeper hesitated, obviously wary of the man who stood outside. She took a firmer hold upon the door and closed it until only her oval face showed.

  Seth dragged off his hat. “I’m here to see Mr. Banes. Is he at home?”

  “He's abed. Come back tomorrow.”

  “I’m Squire Braxton's grandson.” Seth took a step forward. “Mr. Banes expects me.”

  Her jowls wiggled. “I don’t care who you are. The hour is too late for my master to see anyone.”

  “Late? It is but six of the hour.”

  “Mr. Banes concludes business by three on Saturday afternoons. Go on with you.” She lifted her nose in the air and went to shut the door.

  Seth put his boot in between the door and the jamb. “Listen here. I’m not leaving until I see Mr. Banes. I’ve had a long sea voyage and traveled overland from Penzance. Now, will you rouse him from his chamber, or shall I?”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “If Mr. Banes gets angry, you’re to blame.”

  She mumbled under her breath, hoisted her skirts above a pair of stout ankles, and ascended the staircase. Then she disappeared down an upstairs hallway. To the right a double door led to a sitting room. A fire simmered in the hearth and gave warmth to the paneled room. Seth went in and warmed his hands in front of the fire. The floorboards creaked under someone's weight upstairs. A moment later Banes came into the room, followed by his disgruntled housekeeper.

  “Bring tea, Winkle, and bread and cheese.”

  Banes wore an old burgundy dressing gown over a linen shirt and breeches. Upon his head, he wore a cap with a gold tassel that dangled from the top.

  “Winkle says you claim to be Seth Braxton.”

  “I am he, Mr. Banes. I’m sorry to disturb you, but you asked that I see you straightaway upon my arrival.”

  “Have you proof of your identity?”

  From his breast pocket, Seth retrieved a letter and handed it over. Banes put on his spectacles and took it in hand. He moved to inspect it in the light and nodded.

  “Yes, this is the letter I sent. But anyone could come by it.”

  “I’ve another addressed to you from Mr. Stowefield, since you are in doubt.”

  Banes glanced ov
er the missive from his colleague. He raised his brows and folded the note. “I believe you are who you say you are.”

  “It took some convincing to get me here, Mr. Banes. As you probably know, my grandfather and I were not on the best of terms.”

  “I know something of it.”

  Slices of brown bread and a hunk of good English cheese were brought in. Banes poured Seth a mug of ale and handed it to him. Seth lifted the mug and drank. The ale tasted bitter and he set it aside.

  “Ten Width is a few miles from here?”

  “Five and one-half, I believe. Possibly more. I’ve never taken the time to notice.” Banes dug his knife into the cheese.

  Seth picked up his hat to leave. “I’ll not intrude upon you any longer. You can find me at Ten Width if you should need to speak to me.”

  “I’ll see to it you have a mount. Take this note of introduction with you.” Banes scratched a line across a sheet of paper.

  A light smile moved from a corner of Seth's mouth. He took the note and tucked it inside his waistcoat pocket. “I’m used to living rough, sir. I can walk.”

  “A horse will get you there in better time. Will you be settling here for good?”

  “I have land of my own in Virginia.”

  “I hear it is a swampy place, full of a rabble of veterans of your revolution.”

  “Veterans, yes. You’ve been misinformed as far as rabble.”

  “Perhaps. The question is how you’ll convince Englishmen otherwise.” Banes rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and sloshed his bread through the butter. “Thousands of loyalists left America to resettle in Britain. Have you heard that Sir William Hershel discovered a new planet? He named it Georgium Sidus, meaning George's Star in honor of our king.”

  “The ancients also named the stars, Mr. Banes. But they did it for God's glory and not for the glory of any earthly king. I’m sure King George is pleased, though, and doesn’t flaunt the honor.”

  Seth was not surprised at the reaction to his comment, the frown, the rapid blink of the eyes, and the hard setting of the lips.

  “A comment I would expect from a revolutionary.” Banes tossed his bread down on the plate. He stood and tightened the sash of his dressing gown. He tugged on the bell cord and within a moment, Winkle appeared in the doorway. “Winkle, be a good woman and go around the back to Finley. Tell him to bring my horse for this gentleman.”

  Winkle dipped and went her way, the gloom of the hallway swallowing her up in its dark cavernous hole. Banes shuffled out into the hallway. “Take care of footpads along the road. Have you a pistol?”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Good. Stay to the high road and you’ll have no problems.” Banes stepped out into his narrow hallway and turned back to Seth. “I must warn you that a fever has spread through the county. Keep your loved ones safe at Ten Width, for I hear it is a strong contagion.”

  He ushered Seth to the front door and closed it as soon as Seth stepped foot outside. It had been a cool meeting, but Seth put it behind him. He mounted the horse and it sighed under him. The man, Finley, stood back and stared at Seth. He brushed his hands over his shirt and walked off. Seth kicked the horse's sides and it cantered down the road, one side lined with stately trees, the other open to the sea below. The breeze strengthened, churned up the dry leaves scattered over the ground, and rustled the bracken that grew alongside the road.

  Near his destination, with less than a mile left to go, Seth slowed his mount and reined in atop a hill. The horse shook its hairy mane, snorted, and flicked its ears. It paced uneasily, and Seth tried to soothe it with a touch of his hand, roping the reins around his fist.

  Through the gloom, he could see the great old house, standing on the opposite hillside. Tall poplars grew to the left and cast long spiky shadows across the lawn as the breeze twisted and turned their waxy leaves. So this was it, the ancestral home of the Braxtons. If it were not for Caroline, he would not have come. He would have let this place rot.

  Seth nudged the horse on. Outside the gates, he brought it to a halt. Wind whispered forlornly through the trees. The horse paced, turned round, and with a click of his tongue, Seth moved it slowly down the drive. When he reached the door, he dismounted, looped the reins over the post, and glanced over brick and mortar, ivy and window.

  He scraped the mud off his boots along the stone step and climbed it. No one greeted him as he had hoped, and he had no key.

  He drew in a long breath, raised his fist, and knocked upon the door.

  4

  In those moments when Seth rode toward Ten Width, Juleah sat at Caroline's sickbed. She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand, sighed, and pushed back the tendrils of hair that had fallen over her face. Normally, it was fixed in a mass of long tresses that hung about her throat and down the nape of her neck. Tonight her hair hung loose along her back, dark as the chestnuts in the bowl near the fire.

  She bit her lower lip. Would Seth Braxton ever come to Ten Width? Caroline told her what she remembered of him, that he was everything good and amiable. After Caroline had written to Seth, Juleah advised patience. Caroline needed her brother, yet Juleah had a certain aversion toward a man who had taken up arms against England and killed her countrymen on the battlefield. What kind of subversive attitudes would he bring? Would not the gentry snub Caroline for having such a relation? Were not all Americans wild and ill-mannered?

  Caroline refused to believe anything other than Seth being a kinsman who would redeem their legacy. And so, Juleah refused to say anything that would dampen her friend's vision of her estranged brother. Tucked up in bed, Caroline moaned and Juleah turned back to soothe her. She lifted the cool rag off the girl's forehead and with the back of her hand touched her skin. The fever had broken.

  Caroline gazed up at Juleah with misty eyes. “Will you bring my son to me?”

  Juleah brushed back Caroline's hair. “Yes, soon.”

  The bedchamber door opened. Candlelight shot across the floor, over the fawn counterpane. Claire crept up to Juleah and motioned her aside. “Mave Proctor waits to speak to you.”

  “Did she say why?” Juleah moved with her to the door and out into the hall. Claire replied by the direction of her eyes. In the dim light stood an older woman.

  Mave stepped forward and grazed her hands across the front of her outdated frock.

  “Miss Juleah, I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I came as quickly as my old limbs could carry me. The child has died. Hetty said she woke this morning and he was burning up, died in her arms.”

  Blood rushed cold from Juleah's face and sank to her soles. Her chest tightened. Her throat constricted. “How could this be? He should have been safe there by the sea.”

  Mave bit her lower lip. “You would think so. Hetty is beside herself. Mind, she is not to blame.”

  “It's unbelievable.” Juleah's eyes filled. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob. “Poor Nathaniel.” She took in a ragged breath. “Poor Caroline.” Rallying her wits, she reached out and took hold of Mave's sleeve. “Why did you not come and tell me he was sick? Why did you wait?”

  Mave let out a squawk. “I didn’t. I came to Ten Width after I got word from Hetty Shanks. Perhaps it's a blessing in disguise. Miss Caroline's young and to have lost her husband would’ve made bringing up a child hard.”

  Shocked by such icy words, Juleah let go of Mave. “To have lost both husband and child is harder.”

  “They’ve taken the young master to the church. He’ll be taken care of proper and put beside his grandfather. When Miss Caroline is better, she can go there, but for now she should stay put, being so sick.”

  “You’re not lying, are you?” Juleah desperately wanted to hear a different truth.

  Mave's mouth fell open and her brows arched. “I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  “You swear?”

  “On my late husband's grave and the Bible.”

  “Where is Hetty? Why didn’t she come and tell us inste
ad of you?”

  Mave lifted her chin. “Does it matter?” She then held out a grimy hand, nails yellow with ridges, skin thin and blue with age.

  Juleah stared down at the fingers that wiggled greedily. “You want money?”

  Mave placed her hands upon her ample hips. “I had to trek all the way out here risking life and limb in the glooming to bring the news. Hetty was too afraid to risk the dark. A farmer was good enough to give me a lift in his wagon. I got to give him something for his good deed, now don’t I?”

  Juleah took the black satin ribbon from around her throat and handed it to Mave. “Is that enough?”

  Beneath the glare of candlelight, Mave examined the ivory cameo attached to it. “It’ll do.” Then she slipped away down the servants’ staircase.

  Heartbroken, Juleah leaned against the wall and wept. The sound of a rider coming down the lane toward the house caused her to hurry to the window. Had Dr. Yates returned? She drew back the heavy drape and searched the road. Darkness cloaked the rider.

  “Whoever is it now?” said Claire, as she stepped out into the hall. “I’ll slap the bolt across the door. He’ll soon weary of his knocking.”

  Juleah glanced up at the moon. Its light touched her face, softened the contour of her mouth, and widened her pupils in the glass. “You best answer. It may be Yates.”

  “I doubt that, Miss Juleah. He told me he would not be back.”

  Juleah let the edge of the drape fall. “What if it's your new master? You wouldn’t want him angry with you.”

  Claire's eyes widened and the thin line of her mouth parted. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She hurried away, down to the door.

  Juleah turned back inside Caroline's bedchamber. She left the door open and listened to the echo of the rider's knock. Settling down at the edge of the bed, Juleah picked up Caroline's hand and squeezed it.

  “I have something to tell you,” she said. “You must promise to be strong.”

  Caroline stared up at her with eyes full with fear.

  After waiting some time, Seth lifted his fist again but did not strike, for someone pulled on the handle. The heavy oak door opened and a pair of brown eyes peered out.