Dawn in My Heart

by Ruth Axtell Morren

  She shivered at the mere thought of it.

  When she entered the hall, she had no sooner removed her outer garments than Katie came down the stairs.

  “Oh, my lady, how glad I am that you’ve returned. We don’t know what to do!”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s the master. He’s taken a turn for the worse. We must summon a doctor. Nigel says the master won’t want one, but I say it’s gone beyond what he’s capable of knowin’ or not knowin’.”

  Gillian stared at her maid, her heart thumping loudly. Could the maid read the guilt written on her face? She wanted to shout that she hadn’t wished for Lord Skylar’s death.

  She turned abruptly from the maid and said more roughly than she meant to, “You two may decide whatever you wish. His lordship made his wishes very clear to me yesterday.”

  “Oh, please, my lady. You mustn’t mind what a sick man says. He isn’t in his right mind. Nigel won’t heed my warnings. He says a physician won’t be any help now, but I think we must do something.”

  Gillian stopped, her hand on the newel post, conscious above all of her duty. Her father would not have wanted her to do otherwise. She would do everything a wife would for an ailing husband. And if that weren’t enough, at least his death wouldn’t be on her conscience. She already had enough on it as it was, she thought wearily.

  “Very well, Katie, send Harold to fetch the doctor from town. It might take a while for him to get here.”

  “Thank you, my lady. I shall have him go straightway.” The maid didn’t move and Gillian turned to her. “Well?”

  “It’s just…I was thinking.”

  “Yes?” Gillian prodded her.

  “With his lordship doing so poorly, I had a thought of someone else we might send for.”

  “Who?”

  “Lord Skylar’s sister, Lady Althea.”

  “His sister?” Gillian stared at her. “I had no idea Lord Skylar had a sister.”

  The maid bobbed her head. “Yes, my lady. It’s not common knowledge, but being in the household so long, I know more’n most. Lady Althea was Lord Caulfield’s ward for many years. She grew up in their household since she was a babe.

  “But as soon as Lady Caulfield passed away a few years ago, Lord Caulfield let it be known Lady Althea was his daughter. So, it’s Lord Skylar’s half sister.”

  “An illegitimate offspring?” she asked in disdain.

  She blushed. “Yes, my lady, but ever so respectable a lady. And she’s a nurse. She would be perfectly suited to nurse her brother. She has spent the last few years working in a Methodist mission in London, helping the poor, nursing and such.”

  Gillian’s distaste grew. “A Methodist?” All she knew of them was they were heretics to the Church of England.

  “She’s a very pious lady. And begging your pardon, my lady, but with the heathenish ways of Nigel, I wouldn’t think it amiss to have a good Christian lady at Lord Skylar’s side.”

  “But Methodist?” she voiced her doubts. “What about the curate in the village?”

  Her mouth turned downward. “I don’t think he would rightly know what to do.”

  Gillian pictured the sickly looking young man with his brood of young children. “No, I don’t suppose so. Very well, but how would I get in touch with this…Lady Althea, you say?”

  “I have the address to the mission. I’ve been there before.”

  It would be good to have an experienced nurse in the house. “Give me the address, and I shall write to her.”

  As she climbed the stairs to her room, she realized she had two letters to write instead of the one she’d intended.

  Despite her resolve to go nowhere near the sickroom, Gillian was drawn there once more, late that night. Through the walls of her room, she could hear Sky’s shouts. He sounded terrified and she wondered if Nigel was harming him in some way.

  Gillian put on her wrapper, took her candle and made her way to his room.

  Nigel was trying to hold Lord Skylar down in his bed.

  “He’s delirious,” he told her over his shoulder when he noticed her standing beside him.

  The doctor had been and gone and offered little hope. When Nigel had refused to let him bleed the patient, he had left in a huff, saying he washed his hands of the patient’s fate.

  As if reading her thoughts, Nigel told her, “He won’t know you. Perhaps if you helped soothe him.”

  Before she could decide whether to go or stay, Tertius burst out, “Get it away from me!” His hands tore at his chest and neck and the rest of his words were garbled. “…can’t breathe…burning…”

  Suddenly his hand groped at the side of the bed and, finding hers, grabbed it as if to a lifeline. Surprised at the strength of his grasp, she found herself powerless to remove her hand.

  His eyes opened and he implored, “Water…I’m burning…anything for some water…”

  Helpless to move from his grasp, she had to rely on Nigel, who brought the glass to his lips.

  He gulped the water, his eyes never leaving hers. When he spluttered and coughed, Nigel removed the glass and brought a handkerchief to his mouth. During all this, Skylar didn’t let go of her hand, and she didn’t know what to do. Her position grew uncomfortable and she was finally forced to sit at the edge of the bed.

  “Save me…”

  Resentment warred with pity as she heard the plea. Clearly he didn’t recognize her.

  “Will you sit with him a while?” Nigel asked softly. “It’s the first peace he’s found tonight.”

  She looked at the black man mutely and hadn’t the heart to refuse. “For a little while,” she said at last.

  He nodded, satisfied, and left her. She almost called him back in panic. What if Skylar woke again and recognized her? What if he hurt her?

  She eased her position on the bed. Although Skylar had fallen asleep again, it was a tense sleep. He continued to mutter and she wondered what kind of dark place he was in. His hand remained curled around hers. She glanced down at it. His dark skin had faded to a pale, sallow color; only his cheeks showed a ruddy hue due to his fever.

  His fingers were long and fine. She had never really looked closely at them until that moment, and she realized how beautifully shaped they were.

  After a long time, when no one came to relieve her, she could no longer keep her eyes open. She eased herself down on the bed and curled up beside Skylar, seeking the warmth of his body.

  It was getting near dawn when she awoke. She eased the kinks out of her neck and slowly sat up in the bed. Looking around, she saw Nigel fast asleep on a cot nearby. He had thrown a cover over her, she noticed, but otherwise not disturbed her sleep.

  Realizing how closely she had lain near her husband, she hurried from the room, horrified at the thought of his body next to hers.

  A week and a half later, Skylar’s sister, Althea, arrived.

  “I came as soon as I got your letter,” she explained, greeting Gillian.

  Gillian eyed her coolly, suspicious of the woman’s piety. She looked nothing like Sky. Althea was much smaller in stature and blond and pale. She dressed in unfashionably dark and plain clothes and Gillian was put on the defensive immediately. Would she look on Gillian as frivolous?

  The little she knew of Methodists was not favorable. She had heard of their frenzied worship and rantings of hellfire and brimstone.

  “How is Tertius?” Althea asked, removing her plain bonnet.

  “The same. The fever hasn’t abated. We have little hope he will last much longer.”

  “May I see him?” she asked.

  “Of course. Katie will show you to his room.”

  “I’m sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself or welcomed you to the family.”

  “I didn’t even know Lord Skylar had a sister until a fortnight ago.”

  Althea blushed beneath the sprinkling of pale brown freckles across her cheeks. “I don’t see the family very often now that I’ve moved to the miss
ion.”

  Gillian turned from her. “Katie, take Lady Althea to Lord Skylar.”

  “I go by plain ‘Miss Breton,’” Althea said gently.

  Gillian stared at her. “I see. Very well. Show Miss Breton up,” she said to Katie.

  Curious to see what his sister would make of his condition, Gillian couldn’t help following them up to Skylar’s room.

  Nigel and Althea had their backs to her as they stood beside the bed.

  “How long has he been this way?”

  Nigel described the condition and history of the illness. Neither noticed Gillian’s presence.

  “And he isn’t being seen by a physician?”

  “No, miss. He has seen many physicians and not one has been able to help him. He has lost much blood and I fear with de weight he’s lost over de months, any more bleeding will kill him.”

  “You say he has had trouble keeping down food as well?”

  “Yes, miss. No physician can make Lord Skylar well,” the black man pronounced. “This illness not have its roots in nature. The truth is he be cursed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It be powerful black magic that afflicts my master. He left a woman on de island when he come here to wed my lady, but that woman not willing to let him go.”

  “You’re sure of this?” Gillian was surprised at Althea’s attentive attitude toward the valet. She certainly seemed to be taking the black man’s ridiculous theories seriously.

  “Yes. I went to see a woman in London—a woman who can ‘see’ things. She saw dis woman and say Lord Skylar be sick with a powerful curse. She gave me remedies, but none was strong enough.” He leaned over the bed and drew out the leather thong around his neck. “This is to ward off de evil. I think it’s the only thing keeping my lord alive.”

  Althea leaned over next to him and examined the neck charms. Then she straightened and touched the valet on the arm. If she noticed Gillian’s presence she gave no sign. “Do you know, there is something more powerful than this magic?”

  Nigel’s eyes looked at her with hope. “You know of a more powerful magic?”

  Althea nodded, and Gillian was struck by the strength in her demeanor. “Oh, yes, Nigel, much more powerful. But it’s not magic. It’s spirit.”

  Nigel’s eyes brightened in understanding. “Yes, it’s spirit. Which spirit is this?”

  “The Holy Spirit.”

  Nigel’s eyelids closed in disappointment. “The Christian spirit not powerful against dis kind of evil.”

  Althea took the man’s hand in hers with no apparent thought to the color of his skin. “Oh, yes, it is. You shall see.”

  She turned to acknowledge Gillian then. “Hello, Lady Skylar.” She turned back to Nigel. “May I ask you to summon Katie for me? We shall begin by praying for Tertius. The ‘prayer of the righteous availeth much,’” she told him with a smile.

  A few nights later, Tertius woke and saw his half sister sitting by his bed.

  “Althy,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She looked at him with a smile.

  “Papa’s little by-blow,” he added, wanting to wipe the smile off her face.

  He didn’t succeed. The smile faded, but somehow it lingered in her gray eyes.

  “I thought I had dreamed you here the other night,” he said.

  “No, I’m real enough.”

  “Why did you come?”

  “I heard you were very ill.”

  “Who summoned you?”

  “Katie, your wife’s maid. She knew where to find me.”

  He frowned at the mention of his wife. “Where is…Gillian?”

  “She may have retired for the night. I’m not certain.”

  “I don’t want her near me.”

  His sister didn’t reply. Instead she helped him take a sip of water. Hating to be at her mercy but feeling his throat parched, he was forced to submit to her ministrations.

  “Why should you want to take care of me?” he asked finally, too weary to pursue the topic of Gillian.

  “Because I love you.”

  The answer annoyed him.

  “I have never loved you,” he told her bluntly.

  “That’s all right. I have enough love for both of us.”

  “You’re mad.”

  “But it’s a wonderful sort of madness.” She reached forward and covered his hand with her warm one. “The Lord sent me to you. He wants to help you.”

  He gave a weary snort. “Who is the Lord?” An agitation seized him. “Why was I brought here? I don’t want to see Gillian. I don’t want her to see me like this.”

  “Shh. It’s all right. She won’t see you if you don’t wish it.”

  He closed his eyes, but that way lay terror. So many terrible creatures inhabited his dreams. “I’m not going to make it, am I?” he asked finally.

  “Of course you are.” His sister’s encouraging voice came to him from farther and farther away.

  “Don’t give me empty assurances.”

  “I won’t. I am praying for you.”

  When he said nothing, she said, “Jesus loves you. He gave His life for you. Trust Him.”

  “How do I trust someone I scarcely know?” he mumbled.

  “Just call on Him.”

  They were quiet a few minutes. It took too much effort to talk.

  “I’ve always despised you,” Tertius finally said. “Yet here you are at my sickbed. I hope you don’t expect my undying gratitude.” His laughter came out a wheeze.

  “I always understood why you disliked me.”

  “You are discerning, at least,” he said before the heaviness in his eyelids was too much and he slipped back into the netherworld that held him in its grasp.

  Althea gathered them together and led them in prayer for Tertius every day. Gillian stood as an unwilling spectator more than participant. There was no change in Tertius’s condition. They took turns sitting by his side. Gillian dreaded her turn, hating to see the fear, at times downright terror, in him.

  He’d cry out, many times sitting up, his eyes abruptly opening but not seeing her. Whatever he saw tormented him.

  She turned to Althea when her sister-in-law entered the room and demanded of her, “Can’t you do something? Doesn’t God hear your prayers?”

  “I know He does. No evil can prevail against Him.”

  Althea began to pray aloud and quote Scripture.

  “Greater is He that is in me than he that is in the world.” Her voice rang out through the somber room, lightening it for an instant before the shadows fell again.

  Gillian noticed that soon after her arrival, Althea spent more and more time on her knees at her brother’s bedside and began to fast.

  But Gillian saw no change in Lord Skylar, and she wondered when the end would come. She didn’t see how Tertius’s weakened body could hold out much more.

  Katie brought a pot of tea and some biscuits up to Nigel one evening, knowing he would be at Lord Skylar’s bedside most of the night.

  “I brought you a light snack,” she told him as he rose to take it from her.

  “Thank you,” he said with a soft smile.

  She busied herself pouring him a cup, which he set down at a small table by the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Sewing on a button,” he said, showing her. “Dis was—be one of Lord Skylar’s favorite riding jackets. I noticed de button was loose.”

  She stood watching him a moment, hesitating. All her work was done for the day. Lady Skylar wouldn’t need her until she went to bed.

  Without a word she drew a chair up to the bed and sat, her hands lying quietly on her apron.

  Nigel made no comment about her presence. Instead he said, “You should ha’ seen Lord Skylar on de island. Sometimes he’d ride bareback like the wind. Other times he’d be dressed de finest gentleman.”

  “I never met him. I’ve been with Lord Caulfield’s household since I was a wee girl, but Lord Skylar had already le
ft for the Indies when I came.”

  “How old you be, Miss Katie?”

  “I turned eighteen in the autumn.”

  After a bit, he said, “You know, you be de only person to eye me different when I first come to Lord Caulfield’s household. You acted like I existed and weren’t some stick of furniture.”

  She smiled, remembering the servants’ comments when Lord Skylar had first brought him. “You were so large and…and different—”

  “Colored?” he put in.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I’d never seen one up close, if you know what I mean.”

  “It be hard to understand. At home we be all shades of brown. Those of your pale skin be far fewer.”

  “Tell me about your island.”

  She listened, fascinated with the place he described.

  “You must miss it,” she said, when he paused to knot a thread and break it off. She noticed the teacup beside him. “Your tea will grow cold.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, laying the jacket in his lap and taking a long sip, which emptied half the cup.

  He set the cup back down and took up the jacket once again. He shook it out. As he folded it in half, he frowned, eyeing it.

  “What’s the matter, discovered a tear in the cloth?” she teased.

  He didn’t say anything, but examined an inside portion of the hem where the garment was thickest along the jacket’s facing.

  Before she could ask him what he was doing, he took up a pair of small, sharp scissors and snipped at the threads of the hem.

  Curious, Katie stood and leaned closer to him. When he’d gotten a good few inches loosened, he folded back the cloth. Katie drew in her breath at the sight of the small, cloth pouch flattened and tucked inside the hem.

  She glanced up at Nigel’s face and stopped short at the expression on his face. He looked terribly frightened.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  He said nothing, but folded the cloth back to its original position and stood, looking around as if unsure what to do with it.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked more sharply.

  “I found it,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Found what?” Her own heart was pounding in inexplicable fear.