Surrender the Wind

by RITA GERLACH

  Music mingled with the chatter of guests. Some argued politics, excited voices raised above the others. High-pitched laughter and exclamations from the less-refined ladies overtook them. Powdered hair, black patches against white faces, the stark contrast of rouge—they stood grouped together as lifelike porcelain dolls.

  Wrenhurst's elegance surpassed the quaint beauty of Ten Width and the charming family atmosphere of Henry Chase. High-backed chairs covered in scarlet velvet lined pale ochre walls. Banquet tables overflowed with country fare. Silver chargers held fruit of every kind, their luscious colors illuminated by candlelight. Platters of beef and fowl sat among bowls of vegetables.

  The majority of gentlemen present were of a higher class than Seth. He rejected the whole idea of rank, believing what was in a man's heart mattered more. All men were created equal. High or low, rich or poor, in the end all would face the same judge.

  Some argued over issues of Parliament and the king, clicked their sterling snuffboxes open and shut, sniffed their snuff, and sneezed into linen handkerchiefs. Titled people, old soldiers, young veterans dismissed of the regimental scarlet, grand dames, and wealthy ladies, those with titles not so wealthy, bankers, ship merchants, and landed gentlemen. Seth wondered where he fit in.

  Agitated, he flexed his right hand. He was not accustomed to such gatherings. It was clear what the ladies thought of him when he caught numerous sultry gazes. He was set apart from unfamiliar faces and rich clothes. His navy wool coat, his shirt and neckcloth made of plain white linen, his dark breeches and waistcoat, were all a simple man's attire. Silks and satins were not to his taste, nor the square-toed shoes with bright buckles. Tonight he wore his best black leather boots. His ponytail hung at the nape of his neck, tied snug with an ebony crepe ribbon.

  In a corner stood Mr. Banes with his wife, a bone-thin woman with rouged cheeks. She waited in her husband's shadow and spoke not a word, while Banes debated with two other lawyers.

  At the banquet table, Doctor Yates filled a plate. Upon his arm hung a painted woman, her dress cut low, revealing an ample bosom. The wig piled high on her head flowed along her shoulders in heavy white curls. Seth imagined that beneath the powder and rouge there might be a pretty face—or perhaps an older one.

  “Caroline has been happy these past few days at Wrenhurst,” Sir Charles said. “I’m pleased she agreed to stay with us. I’ve grown exceedingly fond of her and have atoned for the way I treated her. I know this is how my son would have wanted it to be between us.”

  Seth inclined his head. “Your kindness toward my sister is appreciated, Sir Charles.”

  “Well, I have discovered how easy it is to be kind to one so good. Come, let me introduce you to my guests. The ladies are anxious to meet you.”

  “I’m not good at introductions.”

  “All you must do is nod to the gentlemen and kiss the ladies’ hands. But I daresay you have eyes for one lady and here she comes.”

  Seth's heart leapt in his chest.

  Catching the candlelight, her hair glowed with a burnished color against her throat. She lifted her eyes and her gaze met Seth's. A shy smile spread over her lips and he returned one of his own as a surge of desire pumped through his core.

  His blood rushed, as his pulse quickened. The curve of her mouth proved fatal to his senses. The emerald gown graced her figure. He was pleased she was not the kind to rub rouge over her cheeks or wear wigs. Tonight her hair hung down her back in majestic curls and twists, and her face had a light dusting of powder.

  He moved through the crowd toward her, through a sea of silks. Through the doorway, a man moved beside Juleah, bent his head, and spoke into her ear. She cast her eyes down, turned her head aside. Lifting her hand, the man looped it through the crook of his arm. Handsome and tall, dressed finely, the ladies unabashedly cast glances at the man. He returned nods in a manner given to a libertine.

  In cloaked shock, Seth stood motionless. Instantly, he recognized the man's face. His limbs turned heavy as stone. He could not go forward, as Edward Darden dared to lift one of Juleah's ringlets and run it between his fingers. Seth's hands flexed tight at his side and then relaxed.

  Sir Charles came up beside him. “Are you acquainted with that gentleman?”

  Through the flare of candles, Seth encountered Darden's eyes. “I am not, though his face I know.”

  “Darden is a rogue, I do not mind saying.”

  A cold chill ran through Seth when he heard the name of that British, red-coated bully that had wanted him dead. “Introduce us, if you please, Sir Charles.”

  But more than an introduction raged in Seth's mind; a confrontation, a battle, a drawing of the line in the sand was more of what he had in mind. Never had he sensed so great an aversion toward anyone, not even to the enemy he faced on the battlefield.

  For Juleah's sake Seth resigned to be in control of his tongue. He’d conceal his feelings for the moment and allow time to weigh everything out in its balance. But how was he to tolerate Darden's connection to his family, now that he knew who he was and the attention he showed Juleah? He wanted to laugh at the irony of it all.

  Seth watched Darden follow the direction of Juleah's eyes. Had a flash of memory reeled within Darden's prideful stare? The rebel taken prisoner several years ago now faced him amid a gathering of upper-class English. With a scowl moving over his lips, Darden looked Seth up and down with his cruel eyes.

  “Well, Darden,” said Sir Charles. “You made it to our affair and with a beautiful lady on your arm.”

  Darden inclined his head. “Sir Charles, you are an observant man.”

  “More than you may think—Miss Juleah, Sir Henry and his lady have not arrived?”

  She gave him a graceful curtsey. “They send their regrets, Sir Charles. My mother fell ill with a dreadful headache and could not make the journey.”

  Sir Charles took a step back and moved Seth forward. “Darden, have you met our American cousin, who is now the squire of Ten Width?”

  Darden flashed Seth a haughty glance. “Rarely do I make acquaintance with Yankee rebels, Sir Charles. But seeing he happens to be your guest, I will at least be civil. Have you found Ten Width to your liking, Mr. Braxton?”

  Seth fastened his eyes on Darden. “In some ways, yes.”

  “I have not been to Ten Width since my stepfather died. Your sister left me no reason to visit.”

  Juleah's eyes lifted to Seth's, and he marked the painful gleam that filled them. A step forward; he took her hand. Darden frowned.

  “Ah, my wife stands by the punch bowl, speaking with Lady Moreland.” Sir Charles held his arm for Juleah to take. “She is most anxious to introduce you.”

  Juleah looped her arm inside her host's and moved through the crowd in the direction of her hostess. “You, Darden, must stay.” Sir Charles held him back with a firm hand. “Feminine conversation is best left for the ladies to enjoy without us hovering.”

  Darden paused in resignation. “I know better than to question my host's knowledge of women.”

  Seth inwardly applauded Sir Charles's conspiratorial actions and declined a glass of burgundy from the servant's tray. “I suppose it was time we met, Captain Darden. How does your mother fair?”

  Darden's face stiffened at the question. “My mother is in a condition to be expected. Illness has plagued her since the passing of her husband. He left her little of his heart, let alone his money.”

  “I’m sorry for that.” Seth turned in Juleah's direction. He watched her speak to Lady Barbara, run her fingers through a twist of her hair, and smile.

  Darden straightened the cuff of his right coat sleeve and grinned. “Do you still hunt with a musket?”

  “Not since the day I lost it to an Indian,” Seth replied.

  “Ah, yes. I remember now. A spoil of war.”

  “I hope he put it to better use. It was the best musket I ever owned. I felled my first deer with it.”

  “It felled several Englishmen as well.”
/>
  “I care not to think of lost lives, sir. We were at war.”

  “Yes, I imagine it weighs heavy upon your conscience.”

  “I did it for my country, as you did your duty by yours.”

  Darden slipped his finger inside his neckcloth to loosen it. “All Americans who fought against England were traitors. Every one of them should’ve hung or been thrown in prison, their lands confiscated, their houses burned, before war broke out.”

  “No doubt those things would have occurred if you had won.”

  Darden twisted his lower lip. “We compensated in other ways. There were rebel houses burned that summer before it all ended.”

  “It is in bad taste to brag about it.”

  “I disagree. It speaks of our strength.”

  “Strength? It shows a lack of compassion for the women and children who suffered. I believe the king would not have approved if he had seen it with his own eyes.”

  “You are ignorant on what the king would approve and not approve.”

  Seth meet Darden stare for stare. “My father's house was spared but ransacked. Two slaves were carried off by redcoats and most likely pressed into their service. I suppose you believe that was justified.”

  “Indeed. Lord Dunmore filled his Ethiopian Regiment quickly after declaring freedom for any slave wishing to fight alongside His Majesty's troops. I recall that the American ships in the Chesapeake hoisted British flags in order to deceive the wretches and sent them back into slavery. What difference did it make to the slaves whom they served, as long as their bellies were full?”

  “I do not defend what my fellow countrymen did, Captain Darden. Men desire freedom, regardless of the color of their skin.”

  Darden laughed. “Your father had slaves, and you speak of freedom?” He finished his glass of port and set the glass upon the table. “I must say, I never knew my stepfather had a grandson until he was dying. He never spoke of either you or your father in my presence. Apparently he had nothing of any importance to say.”

  Seth could not help but let anger flicker over his face. “Why should he have spoken of me to you? Clearly, I was of great importance to my grandfather, seeing he made me his heir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is something I wish to discuss with a lady.”

  He strode away, hoping he left Darden burning.

  He came up alongside Juleah. “Lady Barbara, will you excuse us?” Her ladyship nodded graciously.

  Taking Juleah's hand in his, he drew her outside onto the terrace. The air blew fragrant with the scent of boxwood. The sky was studded with stars.

  Juleah lifted her gown as they hurried down the terrace steps. “Where are you taking me? I mustn’t leave.”

  He glanced back at her. “Why not?”

  “It is rude. People will talk.”

  “Let them.”

  He took her across the stone walkway, over the dewy lawn toward a walled garden. The hedge within brooded over the paths, cast shadows that deepened the darkness. Spears of moonlight floated through the trees in veils of blue and purple. It brushed over lawns, stone figures, and latticed walls.

  Seth hurried with her to a place hidden from view. He stopped, held her waist and moved her in front of him.

  “You must be angry with me.” She touched his face.

  “I didn’t expect to see you with Darden.”

  “I did not seek him out. He found me.”

  “What was I to think when I saw you with him?”

  She touched the lapel of his coat and ran her fingers over it. “You are jealous.”

  “You have the right to be with whomever you wish. But I wonder, have I been wrong in assuming you felt anything for me?”

  Juleah's mouth fell open. “Must you trample on my feelings, Seth? My heart is yours.”

  Cut to the quick, he gazed down into her eyes. “Forgive me.”

  “You have no cause to feel threatened by Darden.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I love you.”

  Her eyes softened, warmed at his tender admission. “Perhaps it is foolish to love me.”

  “Love may make a man do foolish things. But I’m no fool for loving you.”

  She moved from him, walked a ways down the path with him beside her. “I have had something weighing on me that I must tell you about.”

  He stopped, his curiosity pricked. “I’m listening.”

  “The year before Darden left to fight in America, he pursued me. He asked if I would wait for him, told me he was promised Ten Width, that he could give me a good life. I did not love him, but … we’ve been secretly engaged since that day.”

  Seth could not help himself. He stared at her, speechless and hurt. She raised her eyes to his. Her gaze reflected the wish that he would understand and somehow rescue her.

  “Engaged? To Edward Darden?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I was too young to know what I was doing.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “I was afraid I would lose you.”

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “No, Seth. Please understand, Darden has never been, nor ever will be, my love. You mustn’t doubt me.”

  “Mustn’t I?” A rapid pulse beat inside his temple. A flash of heat coursed through his body. “That blackguard took for granted my grandfather's good graces. And here you were engaged to him, while I courted your affections, kissed you, and held you in my arms.”

  He jerked away, and she reached for him. She pulled him close and put her hand on his cheek. He breathed hard and looked into her face. Pain was there, and she fought back the tears.

  “You will break it off,” he said, stung with fury.

  “Before he has not listened. Tonight I will make it clear to him. I swear.”

  Her look of sincerity, and the beauty of her face, melted his fury. He lifted a ribbon from her bodice and pulled her close. She settled against his chest.

  “I need to do some explaining as well,” he said. “Darden and I have met.”

  Juleah's eyes widened. “Where?”

  “Remember the story I told you about my capture? Darden was one of the officers.”

  She let out a moan. “Oh, if only I had known.” She hung her head.

  He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He put his hands around her face and looked at her. Her tears were true. He wiped them from her cheeks and kissed her three times full and passionately.

  She whispered in his ear. “Find me in the dark.” Lifting her skirts, she hurried away, along the path hemmed in by boxwoods. He followed her.

  She came around a bend. Her hair floated off her shoulders in the breeze. Her smile brightened under the moonlight, her breathing hurried, and her laughter light. When she made the turn, she bumped straight into Darden.

  “What are you doing out here in the dark? Come back inside.” His face appeared stern, lined, and hard against the moonlight. He stopped short when he saw Seth. The moment Juleah went to pass him, Darden stepped in front of her. “What are you doing alone with that rebel?”

  She jerked away. “I can be with whomever I please. Do not touch me again.”

  Darden glanced between the two, his face livid in the moon's haze. He thrust out his hand for her to take. Juleah looked down at it, turned and hurried up the stairs.

  Struck with insult, Darden's mouth twitched. He took a quick, angry step toward Seth. “Look, you Yankee blackguard. I order you to stay away from her.”

  “Order me?” Seth laughed, stepped forward, and looked Darden straight in the face.

  “I warn you, I am an excellent shot.”

  Seth folded his arms. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Absolutely.” Darden turned on his heels and stamped up the stairs.

  “Then let it be so,” Seth whispered, even though it was not the time, nor the place. Heading up the terrace stairs, he turned back inside the room. The crowd, being gathered together, stood shoulder to sho
ulder. They craned their necks, while curiosity swept over the sea of faces.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” began Sir Charles. “I know you’re wondering why I asked you here tonight. I beg your pardon, dear ladies, for I have interrupted the dancing. And you gentlemen, my apologies for waylaying your feasting.”

  The men nodded, and a round of laughter rippled through the room. The ladies giggled behind their silk fans.

  “Some of you may have heard that my daughter-in-law and her young son were both taken from this world by the fever. I invited you here to introduce you to my son's widow, Caroline, who in actuality survived her bout of illness.” Restless, the crowd murmured. Then Caroline, her hand set on Michael Bray's arm, walked through an opening in the crowd and stood beside Sir Charles. He took her hand and kissed her cheek in a fatherly manner.

  Seth glanced around the room to observe the expressions on peoples’ faces. They drew in their breaths, stared in utter surprise.

  “And now my friends, I wish to introduce my grandson and heir, Nathaniel Charles Kenley.”

  Sir Charles swept his hand out toward the doorway. Holding his nurse's hand, the lad came into view, his eyes brilliant and absorbing. He hurried to his mother. She lifted him up and people applauded.

  Seth shifted his eyes from the bright, happy face of his sister and glanced over at Darden. He saw him jerk as if someone had slapped his face. He stared in disbelief, the creases in the corners of his dark eyes deepening. Malicious scorn spread over his taut mouth. Seth watched on as Darden bowed to his sister. She lost her smile, lifted her face, and turned away without speaking to him. Darden's face flushed with insult, with that dark look in a man's eyes when he has done wrong and realizes his plans have been foiled. His mouth turned into a sneer and twitched.

  Easily, Seth read in Darden's bearing, this turn of events was too much for the man to stand. It was obvious the sight of Caroline and her son rattled him to the marrow as did the man who had inherited what he coveted.