by RITA GERLACH
“Claire is setting out dinner, and you will stay,” Caroline insisted.
Bray smiled. “I’ve been away so long that I forgot how good English beef tastes. I’ve had enough goose and hen to last a lifetime.”
“Is that all you ate in France?” said Caroline.
“Most of the time. It is a far cry from the stale bread we had during the war. Am I right, Seth?”
“It wasn’t bad though, for us who knew the woods,” replied Seth. “There was plenty of game.”
Bray nodded. “But as the war went on, even game became scarce.”
Caroline lowered her eyes. “Seth told me what he thought I could manage.” She looked up at him with her eyes moist and shining. “It pains me to think of the hardships you both endured.”
Bray looped her arm through his. “Then we shall not speak of it.”
Leaning her head to one side, Caroline gazed at him, her hair a nimbus of curls. “We can walk in the garden after dinner.” She then looked over at Seth for approval. She needed none, but he nodded just the same.
Later, candles glowed under glass domes in the dining room. Claire carried in a roast and bowls of steamed vegetables. They ate, drank, and laughed together. But Seth's heart grew lonely, for there was one person missing. She was far away in windy Cheshire. When would she return? If too much time passed, he would go to her.
Before Bray left, he took up his hat and walked with Seth to the door while Will fetched his horse. “Perhaps it is too soon, but I would like to see your sister again.” A strained look surfaced on Bray's face. “Aren’t you going to ask what my situation is?”
“I suppose I should,” Seth replied with a wry grin.
“Two thousand pounds yearly, from my inheritance on my mother's side.”
“Good and well. But loving her is more important than money.”
“Indeed, I would say as much. I met Caroline before she married Jeremy Kenley. I stepped aside when she made her choice. My feelings have not changed in all this time.”
Seth nodded, while he lifted the right corner of his mouth into a smile. “That is the right answer.”
“I hope to acquire land someday, good for farming. I want to build a house, attend church on Sundays with a brood of children, and grow wheat the rest of the days.”
“Your goals are similar to mine, except I long to be in Virginia and raise horses.”
Bray stared up at Caroline's bedroom window. “I’ve not declared my intentions, not since I left England years ago.”
Seth gave the moonstruck Bray a smack on the shoulder. “If I were you, I would not wait too long.”
Bray returned a broad smile. “You’re right, Seth. I don’t want her to slip out of my arms again. Caroline told me you are fond of Juleah Fallowes. I’ve met her on more than one occasion and found her amiable and pretty.”
“She is all that and more, but prefers to avoid me.”
“I would have thought the contrary.”
“I am, after all, a foreigner here and to some undeserving of my inheritance.”
“Juleah is not prejudiced.”
“No, just cautious.”
“It is nothing that a love letter wouldn’t cure.” Bray slipped on his gloves and picked up the reins of his horse. “I wouldn’t doubt for a moment what Juleah wants is for you to pursue her. Women are indeed a mystery we men shall never solve.”
As Bray rode off, Seth stood outside in the fading light. A mist rose from the ground, curled around tree and bush, and sank into the lowlands. Trees stood stark still, and he looked at their shadows slant across the fields.
He gazed up at the sky and whispered a heartfelt request. He missed Juleah.
Shifting his gaze to the darkened hills beyond, he saw a man on horseback, cloaked in black, his face concealed by a slouch hat. Seth squinted his eyes and felt as though he were being spied upon. The rider turned the horse with a jerk and galloped off over the hill into the lowlands.
11
After a late harvest, fresh hay lay in the stalls at Ten Width. The musty scent filled the air. The roof leaked and the walls were in need of repair where the stone crumbed. He’d fix them himself, beginning later in the afternoon, Seth decided.
When the stable door opened, Caroline, hooded and cloaked, walked in. Her gray mare swayed inside the stall closest to her and whinnied. Her gloved hand reached out, stroked the velvet nose, and rubbed the long face.
“Seth, I know you’re working, but will you take me to the churchyard?”
He set the bucket of oats he carried on the hook outside Jupiter's stall and wiped his hands along his coarse work breeches. “I’ll take you now if you are ready.”
Caroline leaned her head into the mare's. “I’m brave enough. I was his mother.”
Clouds stretched across the heavens, white as cream. Ribbons of mist touched the earth in silver pathways, as brother and sister rode alongside each other.
“I hope Michael comes to visit us this evening,” said Caroline.
Seth shifted in the saddle, relaxed the reins. “You’re fond of him, aren’t you?”
“He gives me reasons to like him.”
“Twice this week he visited you. A gentleman would not pay a lady much attention if he did not have intentions.”
“We have known each other a long time. I would have married him if it had not been for Jeremy.” She looked toward the hills. Wind rustled the woolly coats of the sheep that dotted the fields. Lambs huddled close to their mothers. “What about you, Seth?”
He shrugged. “What about me?”
“You must miss Juleah, and Cheshire is so far.”
“It was her choice.”
“Maybe so, but you should not delay to write to her. I received a letter from her this morning. She will not be back at Henry Chase for a long while.”
Seth made no reply to his sister's suggestion. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed ahead, but thought about seeing Juleah again.
“It is the next step to take, if you love Juleah and want her. Otherwise another man will steal her from you and you will regret losing her.”
Seth glanced over at his sister with an understanding smile. “I’ve heard that warning before. Don’t think all this hasn’t been on my mind.”
Caroline sighed. “You have already decided what to do. You think I cannot see how you miss her? Ever since she left you have been moody. You’re not yourself at all. You love her and cannot deny it—not to me anyway.”
He reined in. “I won’t deny I have feelings for her.”
“Good. So, do something about it. Life is too short, Seth.”
He nodded at her. “Pride will not get in my way, I promise.”
Caroline lifted her face with a triumphant smile. “I’ll hold you to your word.”
“I have no doubt you will.” He nudged his horse on with a gentle squeeze of his thighs. “There's the church.”
They looked out across the green meadow that led to the churchyard. Caroline's eyes filled with tears, and she dashed them back with her gloved hands. “It is the wind, Seth, not tears,” she said when he looked concerned.
He helped her down from her mare. Side-by-side they walked across a path of colored pebbles, long ago swept smooth by the endless caress of the sea. The hem of her skirts drifted over the walkway and onto the grassy plain. Seth went on ahead, stopped, and turned. He held his hand out to his grieving sister. Caroline took it and came beside him.
“Name and date—etched in stone forever,” she said.
She knelt beside the brown sod speckled with grass. Reaching out, Caroline ran trembling fingers along the carved letters of her son's grave. Uneven breaths turned to sobs. Her frame shuddered beneath grief's cruel embrace. Seth's sorrow deepened, as he watched her. To quell his anguish, he pressed his mouth into a hard line. It did no good, for his soul flooded with despair. The reality that his nephew reposed beside his grandfather hit him hard. Ah, but it was only the body that remained, he tried to tell himself. They were i
n paradise, were they not? They were released from earthly bonds.
He touched his sister's shoulder in a wish to comfort her. Caroline wiped her eyes and stood. Seth put his arm around her to lead her away. He glanced over at the line of trees that bordered the churchyard and spied movement within them. A figure crept between the trunks. Hooded in an old cloak, a woman moved back into the shadows.
Caroline gasped. “Hetty! Hetty Shanks!”
The woman's startled face jerked at the call of her name. She halted in her steps.
“Hetty!” Caroline lifted her skirts and hurried forward. “Stop! Stop, I say!” But Hetty Shanks hurried on, stepping clumsily over roots, branches, and twigs, in a pair of old cloth shoes.
Caroline gripped Seth's arm and looked at him with a plea. “Stop her, Seth.”
He rushed forward. The woman turned on him with her hands up ready to strike. “Leave me be, sir. I know you not, nor this lady!”
“You’re lying,” said Caroline, upon reaching Hetty.
Hetty hissed back. “I don’t lie.”
“You know me well. You were nursemaid to my son.”
“I’m no nursemaid to anyone's son.”
Caroline grabbed the edge of Hetty's tattered cloak and shook it. “He was given into your care, as God is my judge.”
With a look of desperation, Hetty whirled around and confronted Seth. “Sir, let me go on my way.”
Seth stared down at her, his height setting a shadow over her face. “Not until she has finished with you. Is your name Hetty Shanks?”
“Aye, but that don’t mean I know her.”
“Why were you spying on us?”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were. Why else would you be standing in the woods hiding within the trees?” Seth stared at the woman and waited for her to speak. And when she did not answer he said, “Come then. Perhaps a constable will help loosen your tongue.”
Hetty gasped and shook free. “I came to pray.” Her lips pressed hard together and she turned to go. From her pocket, a leather pouch tumbled. The silver inside it tinkled when it landed in front of Seth. He bent, picked it up, and held it in his palm. Caroline caught her breath and stared at it.
Seth glared at the distressed woman. “Now will you admit you know this lady?”
Hetty gripped her hands together at her throat. “I know her in passing. Give me my money.”
“You are not a wealthy woman. Where did you get this silver?”
Hetty stood back and rubbed her hands together.
“Tell us, Hetty,” Caroline urged. “No one will hurt you.”
Hetty's eyes roved to and fro. “Wagging tongues can be cut out.”
Surprised at her remark, Seth stepped closer. Hetty staggered. “No one will do that, woman. Now, answer the lady.”
Her face grim and strained, Hetty pressed her hands against her sallow cheeks.
“I don’t want to die. They’ll cut my throat if I tell.”
Caroline gripped Hetty by the shoulders. “Tell me who you are afraid of, Hetty, or a worse fate might befall you.”
“I saw you crying, Miss Caroline, over that grave. I can’t stand it no longer.” Hetty put her fist into her mouth, bit down on her knuckles with a sob.
“You know something more about my son? In the name of God, you must tell me.”
Hetty braced her hands against the tree behind her. “Your lad isn’t in that grave. They laid the child of a beggar woman there that had died from the fever, not yours, Miss Caroline. Your boy is alive.”
Caroline's knees buckled. She sank to the ground. Seth lifted her up, his arm around her for support. The flood of joy and bewilderment that washed over him could not compare with the storm of emotions that overtook his sister. He set her back against a tree and turned to Hetty, who was about to flee.
“I swear if you’re lying …” Snatching her by the arm, he moved her back.
Hetty cowered in his grasp. “No lie, sir. ’Tis true.”
“Then who paid you?”
“I never saw the person's face. It was dark. They were inside a coach.” She squirmed to free herself, but Seth held tight.
“What coach?”
“I don’t know. There was a woman veiled in black, a man whose face was hidden in the dark. I only made out his eyes.”
“What did they require of you?”
“That I give the boy over. I couldn’t do it.”
“What did they do when you refused?”
“The man tore him right out of me arms.”
The muscles in Seth's face twitched. “How do you know it is a beggar woman's child in that grave?”
Hetty hung her head. “It was awful, I know. But they forced me to go with one of their servants, a mean man he looked to be, and I was quite afraid of him. He carried the child wrapped in a bundle, said I was to give a letter to the caretaker, say it was Nathaniel Kenley, or he’d wring my neck. I suppose they had some heart not to do the boy a harm. They gave me more money than I’d ever seen. You can’t blame me, sir. I’m a poor woman.”
Caroline's teary eyes were wide and incredulous. “So, you gave my son to a stranger for money? You let me think he was lost to me forever? You cared not that it broke my heart? You kept silent that he was kidnapped? How could you do something so wicked? You’re an evil woman, Hetty Shanks!”
A long, shuddering cry escaped Caroline's lips, and she fell against Seth in tears. Hetty saw her chance and ran off. Fleet as a shadow she disappeared into the darkness of the woods.
Pained to see his sister in shock, Seth tapped her cheek with his hand. Shaken, Caroline stood in front of him. Tears streamed down her face. Sobs escaped her lips between quick breaths.
“My Nathaniel is alive?”
“Yes,” he said. “And we will find him. I swear to you, we will.”
12
Two days after Juleah's arrival home, on the fourth day of April, she sat in the window seat of her parents’ sitting room and admired the scene outside the window. The meadows were beginning to green and the sun warmed the earth. Farmers had seeded the rich English soil with wheat, and the ewes had brought forth lambs. The woods, on the edge of Henry Chase, showed signs of budding. Pale green knobs decked each branch and twig. Wild fern peeked through the leaf-covered floor of the forest.
Juleah gazed at the sun-drenched hills. She would walk them later, stretch her limbs, and soak in the peace. Idle time had been afforded her at Aunt Issy's, but here at home the hurly-burly kept her mind from clear thinking. If it were not Sir Henry's boisterous voice booming above the clamor of his dogs, then it was Jane's pianoforte practice, and Tom running about like a wild pony, insisting she come explore his latest interest by tugging her hands until she gave in. Her mother did not give Juleah a moment's peace to herself.
Jane sat with her that afternoon, in a chair drawn up to the window, and read her French lesson out loud. Absently, Juleah listened as several letters were delivered into her hand from the housemaid.
“You are doing very well, Jane. That is enough for today.” She left for her room, shut the door, and sat on the edge of the bed. After she stared at the address for a moment, she tore open the first letter in the pile and ran her eyes over it. She frowned at the signature, got up, and went to her writing desk. She took out a sheet of paper to pen a reply to Sir Chester and to make it clear to him she had no interest in being his darling as he had so eloquently put it. The second letter addressed to her had come from Benjamin's stepson, Edward Darden, at Crown Cove. Without reading it, she tossed it into the hearth.
Not being in love seemed a poor reason for breaking with years of tradition to some of her acquaintances. Marriage among the upper class was the bedrock of their existence, the carrying forward of a name and title that in years to come would mean nothing to the average person. Juleah was determined to marry for all the right reasons.
“Never mind that what is in a man's heart is most important,” Juleah said to Jane when she peeked her head insi
de the door. Juleah dipped the quill into the inkwell and began to write. Jane stared with interest in her sister's love affairs and sat beside her.
“All they see is bloodline, Jane, and money. Hardly is love the sole reason to wed among the upper class.” Again, she dipped the quill into the ink, lifted it, and wrote rapidly. “I feel sorry for all the women that have had to endure loveless marriages. I shan’t be one of them.”
The ink dangled from her white feather quill, and before it could stain the page, she shoved it back into the inkwell. After a quick glance over her missive, she wrote her name along the bottom.
“I wish mother would understand.” She blotted the ink, folded the page, and dripped sealing wax on the edge to seal it. “Women are to have no ambitions in life according to her. I find that dull, don’t you, Jane?”
Jane nodded. “Yes, Juleah. I have ambitions. I’d like to be a writer.”
“My dear Jane.” Juleah reached over and took Jane's hands within hers. “Who shall have you when you come of age, but a man good and true.”
Juleah's sister gazed back at her and parted her lips.
“My prayer for you, Jane, is that someday a good man shall come along and love you for you and that you will write all the stories in your heart,” Juleah said. “I pray that God will give you a man who will stand up to the face of ignorance.”
She looked down at the next letter in the stack. “It is from Mr. Braxton. Caroline must have told him I have come home.”
Jane scooted closer. “Open it, Juleah. What does he say?”
“I have a feeling it shall be of a private nature, Jane.” She went on to read Seth's missive and pondered over his words. His confession of love captured her, caused her heart to lift, windswept in a storm of emotion.
She glanced over at Jane. “Tonight, I will write to him when the house is quiet and everyone asleep.”
She knelt on the cushions of the window seat and gazed out at a sky that mimicked the sea. Her sister drew up beside her and pointed to the lawn and stable on the side. Juleah turned her sister by the shoulders gently. “Did you know, Jane, why Father calls our home Henry Chase?”