by Lisa Norato
From the other side of the bed came the resounding voice of old Reverend Morrow. When had he arrived?
“Verily, verily, I say unto you,” he recited, Bible in hand, “He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto life.”
“My faith has always been in the Lord Jesus Christ.”
It was her father who’d spoken. Iris looked down at him and remarkably he smiled back, his soft gray eyes clear, his faculties alert. His hand grew strong in hers and he squeezed her fingers.
Iris’s heart leapt in her breast. “Oh, Father. Do you smell that, Father? I can smell tuberose. Mama’s favorite scent.”
“I do, Daughter.”
She lifted his hand and gave it a kiss. “Shall I fetch her miniature for you? Would that please you?”
He gave a slight shake of his head then gazed off into the corner again. He looked an entirely different fellow than he’d been just moments ago. Life had flowed back in him and his face fairly glowed with his smile. “I don’t need to look at her miniature. She’s here. Your mother is standing right there.”
Iris whipped her head around to view an empty corner as a collective gasp traveled around the room.
“And she’s so beautiful,” her father was saying. “As beautiful as the day I took her to be my bride.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t see anything, Father.”
“Daughter, she’s come for me. What shall I do? I don’t know that I have the strength to hold on any longer. Would you be able to bear it if I went with her?”
Iris squeezed her father’s hand tighter. She convulsed in uncontrollable weeping. “No, Father, no! Not you, too. I couldn’t bear it. I want you to get well. Please don’t leave me.”
“Oh … my poor dear child.”
It was no longer Aunt Mary offering consolation but Hetty, Hetty’s hand on her shoulder giving her a gentle squeeze. Iris felt something cold and wet at her elbow and glanced down to find Snow resting her large white head on the bed. Sadness poured from her luminous black eyes.
Iris looked away. She could not endure more heartache.
“Johnny,” her father called. “Is Johnny here?”
“I am here, sir.” He stood in the doorway in his soiled woolen waistcoat, dark hair hanging over his brow, and was led to the bed by Uncle Alden then guided into the seat Hetty had recently occupied.
“Ezra, you’ve been like a father to me,” Johnny said, his voice breaking. “I … I’ve never told you how much you mean to me. I love you. I have always looked up to you. I’d do anything for you, sir, follow you anywhere. I wish I could have protected you. I wish I could have taken the shot for you. I wish I had the sight to look upon your dear face. Know this, I will not rest until I find Treybarwick and make him account for his crime.”
“No.” Her father released a long, difficult breath. “I love you, too, Jon. Don’t blame yourself. I cannot leave you burdened. Please. Forgive. Look to the Lord’s mercy, as I do now. I’ve no regrets. I wouldn’t have done anything different. Taking you from your abusive uncle. Removing Eleanor from under her father’s rule. You owe me nothing, but I do have one last request. Watch over my daughter. Keep her safe.
“Daughter, take my hand,” he said, turning again towards the mysterious corner.
“I am holding your hand, Father. I’m holding on. I’m here.” But he was not. Iris could see his mind had slipped away into a world far beyond her own.
“She’s here,” he said. “Your mother is here.”
“He’s holding on for you, my dear girl,” Hetty whispered above her. “His spirit’s half in this world filled with pain and suffering and half on its way to a place where your mother and Jesus await to receive him. He’s struggling to remain in a body that’s fading. You must let him go. Your father opened his heart and gave everything to win your mother at all costs — release him to be with her. He’s waiting for your blessing.”
Iris could hardly see for the tears that filled her eyes. Part of her knew Hetty was right, but her heart squeezed so tightly in sorrow, she feared it would burst were she to lose another parent.
But this was not the time to think of herself. With a self-possession that must surely have come from grace, she withdrew her hand from her father’s grasp and laid his palm flat upon his chest. Placing her own hand over his, she leaned forward. “Hear me, dear Father. You mustn’t worry about me. I shall be well cared for. I love you and I want you to go now in peace and be with Mama.”
Chapter 22
Cornwall, England, 1803
Captain Ezra Moon pressed on through the forest. With the sound of the river flowing behind him, he navigated a twisting path through the black wood, plunging through brush and bramble. His generous height and strapping girth made it difficult to move through the thicket as quietly as he would have preferred. The plan was he should wait in the boat, guarding the riverbank and watching out for trouble, but he had decided he could sit still no longer. He needed to see Eleanor now, to touch her, hold her. No more waiting. They had waited long enough.
Did he follow the correct path? He stilled, harkening to the slightest sound. His prayers were answered with a rustle of leaves, the sound of a twig breaking underfoot. And then from the shadows emerged an unusual trio of shapes — a small, thin figure followed by a tall, hooded form being trailed by a much shorter, waddling shape.
The small leader froze in his tracks.
“Johnny, it is I,” Erza called softly.
“Ezra,” returned the sweet voice of his love, not so softly.
There was the patter of delicate feet before a slight, but bearlike creature hurled itself at him. Ezra caught the figure cloaked in thick, soft fur. In the moonless night, he could fairly make out her features inside the hood and yet still his lips had no trouble finding hers. Eleanor.
“Enough of that, you two,” scolded Nurse Hastings, “’Tis a mite early for celebration.”
Ezra heard a tremble of fear in the older woman’s voice and knew she spoke wisely. This branch of the river flowed into the Treybarwick property line but lay concealed from Sutherland Hall by woodlands. Regardless, they wouldn’t be safe until they were shipboard sailing the Atlantic. He led them down the bank to where a small skiff awaited, shrouded by trees that crowded to the river’s edge. The hardy little craft built with his own hands rocked gently against the current. A gleam of water shone with each wave that splashed against her steep sides. Quickly, he handed them in — first Johnny, then Eleanor, then Nurse Hastings. The heels of his Hessians sank into the mud flats as he shoved the craft into the cold river. Once afloat, he climbed in and took his seat at the oars.
Eleanor had removed her hood and sat in the stern with elbows resting on her knees and chin in hand, watching him. Each delicate breath hit the cold air in a vapor then dissolved into the darkness.
The joy he felt at her presence gave him strength as Ezra took up the paddles and pulled the skiff into the tide. He rowed them across the black water to a little bay lying under the shadow of Cornwall’s rising cliffs. His ship lay hidden in the darkness. He’d no watch lights to guide him, but only followed the soft creaking sound of his vessel to where she sat at anchor, waiting.
One of his crew tossed down a rope. Grabbing it, Ezra pulled the skiff alongside the Mad Colonial. Johnny scampered up the ladder like a monkey, and then a pair of seamen reached their hands down for the women.
Ezra boarded and gave orders to raise anchor and set the topgallants. His first mate knew not to shout them out as was custom. Instead, his commands were passed in whispers across the deck. Every man jack knew to move quietly. The ship was to disappear like a ghost in the night. The crew manned the capstan bars and turned slowly, very slowly, so as to minimize the heavy clank-clank of the capstan and the rattle of the chain. The men aloft worked without a sound but for the snap of canvas, as the sails unfurled to fill with a southwest wind.
&
nbsp; The ship crept stealthily out towards freedom, and Eleanor’s faithful yet weary nurse was shown to her lodgings. The deckhouse had been fitted out with comfortable quarters, and Nurse Hastings deserved comfort after valiantly having waited outside in the gardens of Sutherland Hall for hours.
Young Johnny too was sent to bed with a hot meal and a cup of grog.
Alone with his love at last, Ezra escorted Eleanor up to the quarterdeck, so together they could watch Cornwall’s lush, green headlands disappear and its jagged, rocky coast fade away like the past she had left behind.
He walked her out of earshot of his helmsman and first mate then dipped onto one knee and took her fair, delicate hand in his.
Her smile brought heavenly illumination to the moonless night. “Ezra, my love, what are you doing?”
“Is it not customary in your country for a knight to kneel in servitude to his lady when he requests her favor? My dear Eleanor, unfortunate circumstances have not permitted us to spend an acceptable time keeping company, but I know how I feel. In fact, I was certain of my love for you from the first moment I saw you. If you will consent to give me your hand, I promise to be your truest, dearest friend forevermore, your love and your husband, in body and spirit.”
“Oh, Ezra… .”
In the midst of this most important and intimate moment, whilst he awaited the answer that could greatly enrich his life and bring him the greatest of joys, Ezra glimpsed Johnny spying on him from the quarterdeck ladder. He swallowed a grin. Very well. The boy deserved to share in this moment. Without him, it might not have been possible.
Ezra returned his full attention to Eleanor with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Lady Eleanor Sutherland, will you take a chance on a man who is very nearly a stranger to you? Will you become my bride? Marry me … now … on this ship … and I promise I’ll allow no one to ever separate us again.”
She pulled him off his feet to address him face to face, her lips a breath from his. “You are no stranger to me, Ezra Moon. You were known to my heart from the moment we met. Yes! Yes, I will marry you and be your bride.”
It was the happiest moment of his earthly life.
He was still reeling with joy, when something queer and unusual happened. The night was receding, and instead of the forward motion of the ship riding the waves, they seemed to be ascending into light. The wind he’d heard whistling through the shrouds and singing in the running rigging moments ago had turned into the whisper of a thousand voices raised in songs of halleluiah.
He was embraced by an overwhelming love. Not love as he had always known it, but love that surpassed his understanding, a love greater than anything he had ever felt before in his life. Unconditional. Boundless. Peace flooded his senses. Joy burst in his heart.
Love and light surrounded him, and his soul rose up with the glory of it.
When he looked again, Eleanor was no longer wrapped in her fur cloak. Her long, pale, silvery hair flew unbound on a breeze that carried no chill, and her entire being glowed like an angel.
Eleanor was possessed of a beauty that surpassed even the fairest of women, but he had never seen her more radiant.
“What is happening?” he asked.
“Ezra Moon, a place has been prepared for you in heaven. One day you shall rise to glory, and I shall be here to greet you. We shall spend eternity together, never to be separated again. No more sorrow, no more pain.
“But today, my dearest darling love, is not that day.”
Chapter 23
“You mustn’t worry about me, dear Father. I shall be well cared for. I love you, and I want you to go in peace and be with Mama.”
Johnny listened to Iris’s heartbreaking farewell from the other side of Captain Moon’s bed. A dull pain lingered behind his eyes, due either to the tears he fought back or overwhelming grief … the effort of trying to appear strong when he’d never felt weaker.
He felt stifled amid the press of family and friends and counted it a blessing he could not see their deathwatch countenances, though that only made their whispered prayers and soft sobs resound all the more sharply in his ears.
Iris began to sob very quietly and then he knew. It was over.
He longed to stand beside her, but it was impossible to get close enough with so many mourners clustered about.
Dr. Huxham whispered in his ear. “Captain Moon passed peacefully with a smile on his face.”
Johnny’s last hope burned to ash and he felt the light extinguish from his heart. He’d failed Iris. He was a curse to the women he cared for. He’d been no assistance to Captain Moon on Nook Road, which left Iris to face the bitter loss of another parent. The only thing he’d managed to do successfully was to save Lord Treybarwick from death and that good deed had cost them all dearly.
He needed air. The ache behind his eyes pulsed through his head and Johnny felt he would be sick. He leapt off his seat only to stumble into someone. “Pardon me,” he said. “Would someone kindly guide me to the door?”
“I shall help you, Johnny.” It was Lud. “Come with me.” His friend took him firmly by the arm and led him through the crush.
“I need to step out into the cold air for a breath,” Johnny explained.
Something incredible happened as Lud guided him down the hall, away from the sounds of confusion and grief. It was as though a curtain had been raised on the darkness that engulfed him. Johnny could see shape and form within the obscurity. Not clear sight by any means, but more like the limited vision of one who roamed the halls in the dead of night without even a candle to light his path.
Lud paused on the landing of the grand staircase. Johnny immediately sensed the drop of stairs below and actually caught a glimmer of what he assumed was the handrail to his right. Reaching out for confirmation, he fit his hand to the smooth, polished wood.
Cold beads of sweat formed on his brow. Was his sight returning? Dare he hope? And how cruel that his sight should return upon Captain Moon’s death, when it was far too late to come to the aid of his friend.
Lud misread his hesitation and said, “Take my arm and I’ll help you down the stairs.”
“Thank you. I can manage.” Johnny gingerly felt his way down, dependent on the handrail like the blind man he was, and when he reached the landing below, he could see nothing to guide him further.
Helpless, he took the arm Lud offered and allowed himself to be escorted to the back of the house. As they passed into the keeping room, Johnny saw ghostly shapes of light, leaping and dancing — the flames of the hearth fire.
He was sweating now and practically stumbled out the door, gasping in his need for fresh air. Johnny drew the sharp, bracing air deep into his lungs and breathed, lifting his face to the salty hint of the sea. As he did so, a glimmer of illumination — like the first weak rays of a winter’s sunrise — dispelled his darkness. He could see light.
It was dull and milky in comparison to the strength of the sun’s heat, but just that bit of brightness stung his sensitive eyes. He blinked against the burn, uncertain of what he was looking at, but he saw form where until now had been only black and shadow.
“You look a ghastly fright,” Lud said. “Why, the blood has fairly drained from your face. Have a seat, Johnny. There is a bench to your right. It sits by the door, but be mindful of your head. There’s a lantern hanging just above.”
“Thank you.” Johnny groped for the seat before falling down upon it.
He strained to see. The dark shadows receded, giving way to a hazy outline of the surrounding landscape.
Lud took a seat beside him. “Are you well, Johnny? Shall I fetch you some water?”
“No, thank you.” Johnny grabbed his friend roughly by the arm as he turned to look at him. Dim light surrounded the silhouette of Lud’s large, muscular form.
Lud pressed closer. “Can you see me?”
Johnny blinked against the sting of bright sunlight and tried to bring his companion’s face into focus, but Lud’s ruggedly wholesome features r
emained a blur. And yet, still, Johnny could see something, which was infinitely more than he’d been able to since the accident.
“I don’t … I’m not… ,” he faltered. “No, I don’t believe so.” It would be insensitive to share his good news at a moment when tragedy had befallen Nook House. And especially to rejoice prematurely, for he could not tell whether his sight might actually be returning or if this was a brief reprieve from blindness.
“I think I need a moment to sit quietly,” he said.
“Then I shall sit with you,” Lud offered.
Johnny’s thoughts jumped from Captain Moon to Lord Treybarwick, and his despair turned to anger, festering inside him. “Lud, what happened to the pistol?”
“I believe my father left it on the keeping room mantle for safekeeping until it could be presented as evidence before the magistrate. Why?”
“If the weapon was part of a brace of dueling pistols, then the earl still has its pair. He is hiding somewhere, armed and a dangerous threat. I swear to you, Lud, if God would grant me sight for just one day, I would use it to avenge Captain Moon.”
“Johnny, no. Uncle Ezra would be sorely grieved to hear you speak of such and so am I. You heard him. He does not want you burdened with any sense of responsibility for his passing. He implored you to find forgiveness in your heart. It is not your duty to avenge him. There are men out searching for the earl as we speak. And they shall find him, I assure you. A foreign nobleman shall not remain at liberty for long within our little town. And Mr. Bliss has taken men to search out the farmland, orchard and grain fields behind the house. Our hearty Duxbury fellows shall track the villain down. I don’t understand why this tragedy happened, but I do know what my Uncle Ezra would say about it. He would tell us to look beyond our questions and continue to trust in Almighty God.”
Johnny saw what he perceived to be the hazy form of Lud’s beefy hand reach out to him then linger in midair before Lud changed his mind and cautiously pulled it back.