When the Splendor Falls

by Laurie McBain

  “I demand you unhand me this instant, sir!”

  “It could be worse, Reverend,” Adam said, keeping a firm grip on the struggling cleric as he escorted him into the house as the door opened.

  “Indeed?”

  “I might have been a complete stranger to you, or a Yankee raider,” Adam said, to comfort him with the cheering thought, which did have the reverend momentarily grateful until he realized that he had still been kidnapped and was now being forced to enter a strange house. Although, there was something vaguely familiar about the pineapple-shaped brass door knocker, which Adam Braedon had not even had the courtesy to use before he barged through the door, dragging the poor reverend behind him.

  Later the Reverend Culpepper would calmly accept what had happened as being nothing out of the unusual, considering the people involved in the night’s bizarre activities. The names Braedon and Travers explained only too well the madness that had threatened him. However, knowing the identity of his kidnapper had made him none the less uneasy about his midnight assignation, for had he not been plagued by the two families since first coming to the county nearly fifteen years earlier? Mischief makers, the lot of them.

  The wrathful reverend was in no mood to be placated, had that been on Adam’s mind, which apparently it had not, for it didn’t help matters any when he handed him his wrinkled robe and surplice and started to chuckle as he stared in amazement at the reverend.

  The man had never shown him the proper respect, Reverend Culpepper fumed as he glanced frantically around, his eyes opening wide as he caught sight of his own ruffled reflection in a looking glass hanging in the foyer. Jerking off his tasseled nightcap, he glared at Adam’s grinning face.

  “Sir, I demand an explanation! You will not hear the end of this ungentlemanly act of yours, let me assure you, Adam Braedon!”

  “Reverend Culpepper,” a cultured voice said softly and graciously from the opened doorway leading off the foyer, “I do hope you will forgive us, but we were in desperate need of your services. Had it not been of the utmost urgency, a matter of life and death, we would have invited you for tea, and we could have discussed the matter in a most civilized atmosphere. I do hope you will accept my apologies, and on behalf of all of us, for the inconvenience you have suffered.”

  Travers Hill, he sighed thankfully, realizing now where he was. Reverend Culpepper felt some of his anger deserting him as he recognized the woman standing there, her slender hand held out to him so welcomingly, and he thought for not the first time in many years that never had he met a young woman with so pleasant and genteel a manner. “Mrs. Braedon, I am indeed pleased to see you,” he began, and he was indeed, for she, at least, was sane, “but I must say I am surprised to find you involved in such a craven act. Do you realize that your brother-in-law kidnapped me from my bed?”

  “I had hoped Adam would show a certain amount of discretion for once, considering the delicacy of the matter,” Althea said reproachfully, much to the reverend’s satisfaction, but her gaze was understanding when it met an unrepentant Adam’s.

  “I didn’t have the time to convince the good reverend that his services were needed without delay. And I felt Reverend Culpepper would come more willingly, and quietly, if he did not realize that no harm would befall him at my hands.”

  “Hmmmph!” the reverend huffed, not in the least reassured, for hadn’t harm befallen him at the hands of Julia Braedon? He had nearly been emasculated by that scalding tea—and she had giggled! Not surprising, then, that she’d turned into a harlot, he thought with self-righteous superiority.

  Althea sighed, leaning against the door tiredly. “You will forgive me, Reverend, if I do not linger here, but I have been ill, and it has been a rather long day for me. I must sit down for a moment or I fear I will faint.”

  “Of course, my dear, dear woman,” the reverend said quickly, for Althea Travers…Braedon, he mentally corrected himself, had always been his favorite of the Travers family, along with the late Mrs. Travers, who’d been such a fine lady. Ah, what a pity, he thought, folding his hands together complacently, momentarily forgetting the unusual circumstances of his arrival as he smiled benevolently at the recently widowed Althea Braedon.

  “Allow me to assist you,” he offered, hurriedly stepping forward before Adam could lend her a supportive arm, and Adam suspected had he reached Althea first, he would have been callously elbowed out of the way. “Indeed, madam, I would suggest you retire immediately. You look quite pale,” he said, always his best when being conversationally solicitous, although he had to admit Althea Braedon did not look at all well. In fact, she looked as if she’d been crying, her eyes red-rimmed and shadowed as if by some recent sadness. “I dare say your physician would be most displeased to find you up at so late an hour…ah, which one cannot help but wonder about. But, naturally, I am at your service now, to provide whatever words of comfort and wisdom that may be required in this hour of need,” he offered politely, his voice having resumed its rich basso tones, his manner at its most punctilious.

  “Thank you, Reverend Culpepper,” Althea murmured faintly, truly thankful for a strong arm to lean on, even if it was Reverend Culpepper’s, his voice droning in her ears like the annoying buzz of a fat bumble bee. It had taken all of what little strength she had to prepare for the evening’s ceremonies, Leigh being less than helpful in her own preparations for her hastily arranged marriage, and had it not been for Jolie’s bullying they would never have been ready in time.

  It had been Jolie who had remembered which trunk the wedding gown had been carefully stored in for safekeeping years ago. Her wedding gown, Althea remembered, seeing so clearly Nathan standing next to her as she said her vows and became his wife. If only she could hope that Leigh’s marriage to Neil Braedon would be as happy, she fretted, but she had to believe that someday they would, that Adam’s faith hadn’t been misguided.

  Althea glanced over at Adam, still unable to believe what he had confided to her and Guy. They were sworn not to reveal the truth to Leigh, but it was hard not to show the heartbreak she felt so deep within. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “The Reverend Culpepper is here. Shall we begin?”

  The Reverend Culpepper, however, was anything but ready. The scene that had met his startled gaze when he stepped into the study nearly caused him to falter, and forgetful of the frail woman whose arm he’d held so protectively only moments before, he would have turned and fled without so much as a by-your-leave.

  Leigh Travers, dressed in an ivory-tinted gown of silk brocade and cobweb-fine blond lace, her chestnut hair partly concealed beneath a short veil of fairy-spun Brussels lace, the scalloped edges floating around her shoulders ethereally and held in place by a coronet of delicate silk rosettes, was standing next to the infamous Yankee raider, Captain Dagger.

  And in the apprehensive mind of the already overwrought reverend, as if to mock him further, the scene became even more macabre as he met the slanting yellow eyes of Jolie, her coppery face looking heathenish as the firelight flickered over it, casting strange shadows that melted into the ebony face of Stephen, the sound of ancient, impious chants whispering against his Christian soul as he heard a soft muttering coming from the mulattress.

  Reverend Culpepper nearly fainted from fear, and had it not been for Althea’s supportive arm now, he would have fallen, the stiffness having left his knees as fast as his courage.

  And yet, perhaps, it was all some terrifying nightmare, brought on by indigestion, for he had overindulged earlier that evening at supper, but it had been such a long time since he’d enjoyed a well-prepared, generous-proportioned meal. And Mrs. Drayton had served the most delicious pork chops and fried potatoes, and she’d been so pleased to see him cleaning his plate of a third portion. The reverend blinked his eyes, hoping he’d been seeing double, but, no, Adam Braedon still stood beside him, and across the room stood Captain Dagger, for there was no mistaking the heathenish braid he wore, marking him as the notorious Yankee raider depicted in t
he newspapers.

  “Wha—what is the meaning of this?” he demanded, gulping nervously as he met the cold-eyed stare of a man thought to be little better than a demon from hell. “Is this some sort of hoax?”

  “Hardly that. We need you to perform a marriage for us, Reverend Culpepper,” Adam said good-naturedly as he hustled the now stiff-legged reverend closer to the pair standing before the hearth. “Not quite the wedding I had imagined, but nonetheless binding. Never forget, Guy Travers was a lawyer in peacetime, and has acquainted me with all of the legal niceties concerning our hasty marriage, so it will indeed be quite legal,” Adam warned, grinning as he placed the parish register on Althea’s lap where she now sat in a chair close by.

  “The witnesses, the brother and sister of the bride, Althea also serving as matron-of-honor, and myself, also serving as best man. Quite a family gathering. Now, if you would be so obliging.”

  “Ma-marriage! Certainly not!” the reverend exclaimed, staring in disbelief at the bride. “You would marry this…this…”

  “Oh, did I neglect to make the proper introductions, Reverend Culpepper?” Adam interrupted before Neil could say anything. “I gather, by your expression, that you’ve recognized Captain Dagger. But perhaps you didn’t realize that he is also Neil Braedon. My cousin. Now, if the Union wins the war, and my cousin here survives to come back to Virginia, then you can expect to have your neck wrung if you don’t perform this ceremony right now. If you live to see that day, because, if I were you, I wouldn’t want to cross Captain Dagger here. The Bloodriders aren’t far away, and a lot depends on this marriage,” he said, shaking his head as if sorry for what was about to happen to the good reverend.

  Reverend Culpepper opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it as he met Captain Dagger’s eyes.

  “Also, I would advise the utmost discretion concerning the events of this evening. Indeed, were I you, I would forget I’d ever come to Travers Hill at midnight for the nefarious purpose of presiding over the marriage of Captain Dagger, well…I just don’t know, but I’m certain there would be quite an outcry should the good citizens of the county learn that the Reverend Culpepper had been involved. They would not look kindly upon the man who had given Leigh Travers into the hands of Captain Dagger.”

  Although bloated with pride, the reverend was no fool.

  “Excellent,” Adam said, sounding for all the world the cordial host. “I am so pleased you’ve decided to cooperate,” he said as the reverend began to hurriedly pull on his gown, which Adam had very kindly held up for him. “Yes, you look quite splendid. Now the surplice. Yes, yes, very nice indeed,” Adam murmured approvingly as he straightened the white linen garment with its long, full sleeves. “Here is your Bible. Are we ready, then? You may proceed, Reverend Culpepper, in uniting Leigh Travers and Neil Braedon in holy matrimony.”

  The vows had been made, the solemn promises to love and to honor until death do them part dutifully recited. A ring, hastily taken from Althea’s own hand, the ring Nathan had lovingly slipped on her finger, had been slipped on the third finger of Leigh’s left hand, Neil’s strong, tanned hand closing around her slender, pale one for the briefest of instants, then her hand had been released. The church register had been duly signed and witnessed, the recording of their names and the date of their marriage appearing on the same page as Blythe’s and Adam’s four years ago.

  Although he’d not been at his best, the Reverend Culpepper had always prided himself on having mastered the ceremonial part of his calling, and weddings and burials were among the finest of the services he performed, next to his Sunday sermons, of course. And except for the hound that had constantly been underfoot, and sniffing him at the most inopportune time, and in the most private of places, he could take pride in his performance this night.

  And he had to admit he’d seldom tasted better cake, and the ratafia had been quite exceptional. He’d been quite surprised when the majordomo and the mulattress, having left the room, had reentered with refreshments. The reverend, after a second glass, had begun to reassess his original impression of this marriage, for it was beginning to appear quite civilized and he had even joined in a toast to the couple’s continued good health and future happiness together.

  “Now, Reverend Culpepper, I think I should, and with all due haste, return you to your bed,” Adam suggested, offering the reverend his coat when he would have lingered in conversation with Althea, whose blond head was already beginning to droop from fatigue.

  “We wouldn’t wish to have your activities questioned, should someone happen to see you and wonder what the Reverend Culpepper was doing riding around the countryside in the black of night.”

  “No…ah, quite right, although I would certainly leave them in little doubt that it was none of their business. I am a servant of God, and as such, in order to serve my flock, I must find myself out in the cold at all hours of the day and night, and called upon to perform all manner of service unquestioningly, and without complaint or care to my own safety,” the reverend told them with such affronted dignity that anyone might dare to question his actions that Adam had no fears that anything would be said of this evening, and the service Reverend Culpepper had performed. And should anyone have noticed the most recent marriage recorded in the church register, then all they would note as odd was that yet another Braedon had wed a Travers.

  Neil glanced over at his wife. Her slender back was turned to him almost disdainfully, as if she distanced herself from him, and the marriage that had just taken place between them. She’d been as warm and loving as one of the icicles hanging from the eaves of the house. And her hand had felt even colder when he’d taken it in his and placed the borrowed ring upon her finger, claiming her as his wife. Her lips, when he’d kissed her, sealing the ceremony, had been as soft and yielding as carved marble.

  “I’ll accompany you, Adam,” Neil said, picking up his coat, but Adam shook his head, turning at the door as he tried to escort the reverend from the room, the reverend having stopped to empty his third glass of ratafia.

  Leigh glanced over at them. Standing before the fire, trying to warm herself, she watched Neil with a cool-eyed stare. He could hardly wait to leave, she thought, remembering the brusqueness of his greeting when he’d arrived at Travers Hill. Beyond that, and his curt demand to know if she agreed to Adam’s plan, he’d hardly spoken two words to her, spending most of his time in conversation with Althea, who’d seemed pleased by his gentlemanly attentions.

  “No, I wouldn’t want to give away our game too soon. Can’t take the risk of being seen together, or your being put in unnecessary danger, Neil,” Adam joked. “At least no more than usual. Can’t tempt fate too much. I should be back in an hour and a half, or two, or three. Going to stay off the roads. Don’t want to attract attention. I also remember seeing a wagon at Meadowbrook when I was there a couple of days ago. I’m going to see if I can borrow it. The Draytons are good friends. There shouldn’t be any trouble. We’ll talk further about the details for the journey when I return. When do your men expect you back?” he asked.

  “When they see me.”

  “Good,” Adam said, pushing the reluctant reverend through the door ahead of him.

  Neil stood for a moment, hearing Adam’s cough from the foyer, followed by the door slamming shut, then there was silence.

  Turning around, he caught Leigh’s glance on him. For a long moment, their eyes held, but neither knew what the other was thinking, and with an abruptness that bordered on rudeness, Leigh excused herself, professing a need to change from her wedding gown before preparing a bottle for the baby.

  “Braedon?”

  Neil looked over at Guy Travers, where he sat near the fire, his hounds sitting at his feet.

  “Braedon? You still here?” he demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “Want to have a word with you,” he said shortly.

  Neil frowned, thinking Guy Travers still bore a grudge against him despite what Leigh had claim
ed.

  “What is it?” Neil asked, coming to stand closer.

  But Guy remained silent, his expression almost diffident. “I hoped you would accept my deep apologies for what happened between us four years ago.”

  Neil was startled, for he hadn’t expected an apology from the man. “There’s no need,” he began.

  Guy laughed harshly. “Please, allow me to offer, and you would be within your rights not to accept it. My behavior that night, the whole week of your visit, in fact, was unforgivable. I regret it deeply. I could try to excuse myself as having been young, and arrogant, but I will not, because I suspect that I would still be that way today had certain events not taken place to alter drastically the way I perceive the world. I have seen too many fine young men die, some by my own hand, others standing beside me, to have anything but disgust for my actions that night when I would have taken your life for no other reason than that I was jealous of you, that I was arrogant and selfish, too accustomed to having everything I wanted in life, without ever realizing the value of what I took, what I accepted as my due. I’ve lost my mother and my father, my two brothers, and a little sister, and countless friends. I will never again accept the taking of a life as anything but tragic and senseless. It is no gentleman’s sport, entered into to save honor, to salve wounded pride, to boast about having taken another’s life as if tallying the flushed pheasant bagged in a shoot. Death is agony, and it is final, and I see it in my mind every hour of the day.”

  Neil stared at Guy and saw a stranger. He was a changed man, a man who had found honor on the battlefield, not because he sought glory in another’s death, but because he regretted the taking of that life.

  “I offer you my hand,” Guy said, gazing up at Neil blindly.

  Neil took the hand being offered, holding it firmly in his grasp before he released it.

  “I was surprised when Jolie offered me that cake. Haven’t had any in ages. Where on earth did she find it? Or do I really want to know that?” Guy said, smiling slightly, and feeling a weight had been lifted from him.