Surrender the Wind

by RITA GERLACH

  She touched his cheek with her fingertips and lifted her skirts to hurry up the stairs. Seth set the letter on the table beside him. Claire came out into the hallway with an armload of laundry.

  “We’re headed for London, Claire. Be a good girl and help your mistress pack.”

  Off she went upstairs. Seth went to his study. His grandfather's will lay on his desk. He took it and set it in a drawer. Before he turned the key to lock it, he looked down at the deed to Ten Width and the ledgers that lay open. Even now, he could not shake off the feeling he had been shackled, indentured to a piece of land he did not desire. Duty bound to take it into his hands, he had managed to clear all debts. Now the fields were planted, the sheep bore their lambs, and the promise of money would come. Yet, emptiness clung to him while he longed for Virginia and hoped his life would not be spent in a place he had less heart for.

  A knock at the front door roused Seth from his thoughts. He found a man on the doorstep, dressed in clothes too big for his frame. With a flourish, the man drew off his plumed hat and bowed. Tufts of greasy, steel-gray hair fell forward over his shoulders.

  “Good day, sir,” he said.

  The man's eyes were bleary gray, etched in the corners with heavy lines, each cheek careworn with pockmarks. In one earlobe hung a golden ring. Around his waist and diagonally over one shoulder, he wore a leather baldric. Tucked below the buckle was a flintlock pistol. Bucket boots reached up to the man's knees.

  “Who are you?” Seth inquired.

  “James Bonnecker. Sailor by trade, known aboard ship as Billy Bonecutter, but me friends call me Jim.”

  Amused, Seth smiled. “Well, which name do you go by?”

  “Bonnecker, sir. It wouldn’t be fitting to call me by my Christian name.” Bonnecker leaned forward and winked his right eye. “Some call me a pirate cause I served Cotton-eyed

  Jack. Aye, what adventures the sea gives a man, sir. Perhaps sometime I can join ye in a mug of ale and tell tales of the sea, pirates, and buried treasure.”

  Seth was skeptical of Bonnecker, and no degree of friendly conversation would persuade him. “Why have you left your life of seafaring?”

  Bonnecker rubbed his bristly chin. “Well, sir. Privateering has gone downhill. It's not like it was in earlier days. The glory's gone.”

  “Well, Mr. Bonnecker, if you’re hungry, then go around to the backdoor. I’ll be sure you get a plate of food. No one can say the poor go hungry at Ten Width. I am on my way out and have no more time to talk to you.”

  “I thank ye, sir. But a beggar, I’m not. I’ve come to deliver a message to …” And he pulled a letter out of his pocket and read the name inscribed upon it. “Mistress Juleah Braxton of Ten Width. Is the lady home?”

  “She is. Who's the letter from?”

  “I don’t know, sir. A man saw me passing down the road and offered to pay me money if I were to bring a message to Ten Width.”

  Seth held out his palm. “Give me the letter. I am her husband.”

  Bonnecker passed it over and set his hat back on his head. With a swing of his arms, he whirled on his heels to go. “Wait,” Seth called. Bonnecker turned, and Seth reached inside his pocket. He tossed the privateer a sixpence for his troubles. Bonnecker caught it in his fist and nodded his thanks. He then went on with a whistle down the road.

  When Seth gave the sealed letter to Juleah, she opened it. “I cannot go to London.” Her eyes flooded with worry.

  Seth touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “What's wrong?”

  “My mother has fallen ill and I must go to her. I will take Claire with me.”

  She looked up at Seth with eyes that pleaded. He took the letter from her hand and read it. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Oh, Seth.”

  “I’ll send word to Michael that we are delayed.”

  “There is no worry to keep you away. You go on ahead alone.”

  “Juleah, you are certain?”

  She nodded. “My mother has bouts with her health often, you know. I shall see her, stay a few days, and then Claire and I shall travel to London. We shall come by my father's carriage.”

  “If Lady Anna is too ill, then please stay with her.”

  Again, she drew her cheek up against his and sighed. “I shall worry about you the whole time.”

  “Me? I’ve a brace of pistols.”

  A slight smile spread over her lips. “I forgot that you lived in the wilderness and traveled over ocean and land to Ten Width. I should not worry.”

  “If your mother is not better in a week, send me word. Kiss her for me,” he said. “And tell your father when I return I’ll take him and Thomas fishing, like I promised.”

  23

  Ten Width had yet to own a carriage. Juleah ached already from all the bumps in the road as they traveled by cart down the two-mile stretch of road. Fresh wind caressed her face, and she listened to it blow through the trees. A gray curtain fell, the sun was extinguished, and she hoped it would not rain. A moment later, it parted as quickly as it had come, and the sunshine softened over the land once more.

  The horses slowed and Will drove the cart down a hill to level ground, where on the heights ahead Juleah saw her father's house. She stared long at it, worried over her mother's condition. She remembered how her mother loved tending the herb garden and hoped this illness was not something serious that would end her life.

  The cart turned into the drive. Will jumped down and when Juleah took his hand and stepped out, she glanced up at her mother's bedroom. Window glass sparkled between lead mullions. Ivy clung to the brick that framed it.

  Claire followed behind her into the foyer. The window within faced east, and warm sunlight and soft shadows fell through it as they crossed the polished floor. Jane hurried out to greet Juleah. Thomas followed at a quick pace, then Sir Henry, who bowed.

  “Papa.” Juleah kissed her father's cheek. “Where's mother?”

  “In her room.” Sir Henry patted her shoulders and gazed into her eyes.

  Thomas tugged on Juleah's dress. “I’ve got a bullfrog in a jar. You won’t be afraid to look at it, will you? Jane is.”

  Juleah caressed her brother's curly head. “No, I shall not be afraid. I would like to see your frog, but after I visit with Mother.” Juleah looked over at Claire, and with her eyes told her to take the children outside. Claire rounded the pair up and went out the back to the garden.

  “How ill is Mother?” Juleah asked her father.

  “Well, you ask her, child,” he answered. “Woman things, I suppose.”

  She stopped him on the stairs. “Yates sent me a message, Papa. He made it sound serious.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes, Papa. That is why I have come.”

  “Anna hasn’t said a word to me about it. I have noticed she cries for no reason a’tall. That is why he wrote, I’m sure.”

  Disturbed her father had nothing more to tell her, Juleah slipped by him and headed up the stairs. One of Sir Henry's dogs lay on the carpet and rolled over at her approach.

  When she reached Anna's room, her maid squeezed through the door with a bowl of water and an arm draped with towels. Sarah's mousy brown hair peeked out of her cap along the nap of her neck in wispy brown threads.

  “Is she awake?” Juleah asked.

  “Oh, yes, and bossy as ever, if you don’t mind me saying so. I’ve done all I can for her in the way of comfort, and she still complains. After listening to her, I think she's got every ailment known to man.”

  Ready to ignore Sarah's pertness, Juleah let her pass. Water slopped out of the bowl onto the Persian runner. “I’ll clean it up, miss,” Sarah called back. “Not to worry.”

  Juleah pushed open the door and went inside.

  “Juleah, what a pleasant surprise! I wasn’t expecting you.” Anna lifted her back away from the chintz chair. Her features froze in an expression of somber delight, and she gestured for Juleah to enter. The room had a warm, womanly scent to it, o
f lavender and spring rain.

  If this were the sickroom of an ill woman, it fooled Juleah.

  Anna's hair hung about her neck in soft ringlets streaked gray. A shawl lay across her shoulders. “There's nothing wrong, is there?” Anna's eyebrows pinched.

  “I received a letter saying you were sick.” Juleah folded a blanket and set it at the foot of the bed.

  Anna straightened in the chair. “I am well enough I suppose, considering my age. Who sent you such a letter?”

  “Yates.”

  “He has not stepped foot inside this house in weeks.” Anna rang the silver bell on her table. Sarah entered. “Sarah, did Yates visit Henry Chase recently?”

  “He was here a week ago, ma’am.”

  Anna sighed. “So strange. I have no idea why Yates would have troubled you. I am worried now.”

  “Well, don’t be. It must be a mistake.”

  “How can it be? He must know something I do not.”

  Juleah went toward her, and her mother's arms went around her in a light hug. “Oh, do not make assumptions, Mother.”

  “What else can I do?” Lady Anna pulled back and beheld her daughter's face.

  “Papa said you have been quiet and have complaints.”

  Anna smiled gently. “There are things a wife does not tell her husband, woman things. Have you come with your handsome husband?”

  Juleah sat beside her. “He has gone to London.”

  Anna raised her brows. “Without you?”

  “I was told you were ill.”

  Anna clasped her hands together. “Dear Juleah. You chose to come here instead, to look in on your poor mama because of a mysterious message?”

  “How could I ignore it?” Juleah studied her mother's face. She looked tired.

  “I am furious with Yates. I shall stew over this until I see him again, and then give him a good talking to. The nerve of the man, upsetting you like that.” She tossed her shawl from off her shoulders and stood.

  “He will have an explanation.” Juleah did not want to upset her mother, knowing Anna's mind would race every which way. Yet, uneasiness settled within her, and she began to think something was terribly wrong. Or someone had played a cruel joke on her.

  “Let us change the subject,” her mother insisted. Back into her chair she flopped. “Has Seth made you happy?”

  Juleah smiled. “Yes. He is good to me and …”

  “Romantic? Protective?”

  “Indeed he is all that and more.”

  Lady Anna picked up her needlework and pulled at some threads. “I am glad you married for love, Juleah. Few women do. They want a husband of quality and means, and for good reason. You were lucky and found both. I have changed my mind about Americans.”

  “I am pleased to know it.”

  Lady Anna shivered. Juleah reached for the bell. “I shall call Sarah and have her set a fire.”

  “That would be good. One moment I’m chilled, the next flushed with heat. Some days the room goes round and I’m tired. My bones ache, and I wake in the middle of the night in a sweat.”

  “Then you are ill,” Juleah exclaimed. “I shall have Will ride into town and bring Yates.”

  Anna put out a comforting hand to Juleah. “Do not despair. These are woman's ways. It comes to all women. Tell me what news you have.”

  Anna threaded a needle with scarlet floss and thrust it into the cloth. Juleah paused, watching her pull the needle through the linen.

  “Hetty Shanks was found dead,” said Juleah.

  Lady Anna dropped the cloth onto her lap. “What terrible news.”

  “Seth believes she was murdered, but Latterbuck argued with him, insisting it was an accident, that if Seth did not stop speaking of it, he would cite him with interfering with the law.”

  “It would be best if he were to have no further dealings with Latterbuck.”

  “Indeed, but Seth wants justice for Hetty, no matter what she has done.”

  “Your husband is a good man, and his principles run deep. It shall be water under the bridge soon enough. Perhaps it really was an accident and you have nothing to fear. I will try to think of that, instead of the possibility of an assassin being about.”

  Juleah bit her lower lip and twisted her hair between her fingers. It suddenly frightened her, the idea that a murderer could be near Ten Width.

  As darkness fell, Seth's horse wearied. He found a carriage inn near the village of Gastonbury, paid his shilling, and ate a huge supper. After he pulled off his boots, he fell to sleep without undressing, upon a mattress stuffed with straw. He barely noticed its discomfort or how low the night wind blew through the brick hearth. His dreams took him back to Juleah and Virginia.

  Dawn broke clear and he climbed into the saddle and headed east. He rode past Gaston Abby and took the high road that led toward County Wiltshire. Trees were heavy with leaf. Spring wheat sprouted in the fields. Grassy meadows were emerald in the sunshine, and he wondered how green the pastures of Virginia must be.

  His heart grew heavy, and he longed for his land, his oak, and his river. England will never be home.

  Neither rider nor carriage met him on his journey thus far. At a bend in the road, he traveled southeast, made his way through Hampshire and Surry, through leafy forests that led him toward the bustling city of London.

  The capital was unlike any city he had seen. Larger than Williamsburg and Annapolis, it was a hurly-burly of activity, a city filled with diversions. Thames Street bustled with merchants and travelers as Seth made his way toward Fleet Street and The Strand. Vendors hawked their wares. Carriages and coaches lumbered over cobblestone streets and parked outside elegant townhouses. Tea and coffeehouses, inns and shops, were filled with patrons.

  Soon Seth found himself passing through the lowly east end. It was dark and sooty, the people poverty stricken, in tattered castoff clothing. Troops of orphans huddled in doorways, begged on the streets. It saddened him, and he handed what coins he could spare to as many as he could.

  Closer to the better part of London, the startling contrast between rich and poor was evident. Along the streets, they mingled. Gentlemen purchased bouquets for their ladies from poor flower girls and had their boots polished by barefoot lads. Messenger boys waited on the corners for an assignment. Ladies in fine dresses and hats moved far from the reaches of scummy hands.

  Woven between both classes were missionaries that ministered to the poor, the drunkard, the homeless, the prostitute, the orphan, and the infirm. When he turned one corner, two Methodists helped a one-legged man into a cart.

  “Worry not,” one said. “There’ll be a bed for you tonight and a hearty meal.”

  The missionaries’ compassion convicted Seth. There were people in the country who were needy, and he wondered what he could do to ease their plight. He decided, as he rode farther into the heart of London, they could use another physician in the country. Perhaps he could persuade a young man to leave London.

  Presently the somber gates of Newgate heralded a darker side of the city. Seth glanced at them briefly. He moved his horse on and headed into the heart of the west side. After he acquired directions from a street vendor, he was glad to find his sister and her new husband living in a fine house sandwiched between blond-bricked homes.

  He left his horse moored to the iron ring out front and stepped up to the door.

  A servant pulled it open. Her face was round as an apple, freckled, and she was no beauty. Her brows were thick, joined as one above a pair of almond-shaped eyes that sat back in her head. Her mouth extended in a thin line and her teeth did not show when she spoke. But her gentle manner, faint smile, and pleasant lilt of her voice made up for what she lacked in looks.

  “This way, sir,” she said. “Mistress Caroline is away, but the master of the house is at home.”

  Seth stood in the brightly lit study that belonged to Michael Bray. He waited, and a sparrow flew to the windowsill. For a moment, it stared back at him, spread its wings, and fle
w off.

  “Seth!” Bray bounded into the room. “It is good to see you.”

  Seth turned. “And you. Are Caroline and my nephew well?”

  Bray glanced back out into the hallway. “Very well. You have come without Juleah?”

  Seth pulled off his riding gloves, noting Bray's surprise. “She's with her mother.”

  Bray's smile vanished. “She hasn’t left you, has she?”

  Seth's grin glided over his lips. “No, we are happy. Lady Anna is ill, and she thought it best she stay at Henry Chase until she recovers.”

  “Then we are two men alone. Caroline and Nathaniel are visiting my aunt in Bristol.” Bray poured Seth a glass of ale and handed it to him. “She is old and alone, and Caroline, after learning of her, asked to visit her.”

  Seth took the glass in hand. “Something of importance kept you from going with her?”

  “My business prevented me. We’ve decided to settle someday in Virginia. It is Caroline's true home, after all. Riches we shall never have, but we shall be happy.”

  Feeling envious, Seth smiled, and grabbed Bray's hand to shake it. “Grand news indeed. I hope to see home again as well with Juleah. There's enough Braxton land there to divide between us.”

  Bray shook his head. “Oh, no. I never meant to imply—”

  “You implied nothing, Michael. It is my father's legacy and he would want Caroline to have part of it. Think of it as a wedding present.”

  Bray blinked his eyes. “I’m speechless, Seth.”

  “Five hundred acres will do for you, but you’ll have to build a house.”

  “With all my sweat and blood, I shall.”

  “Believe me, it shall take every ounce.” Seth proceeded to a chair. “Now what was so urgent that you called me to London.”

  Bray's countenance shifted to bewilderment. “I sent you no letter.”

  Something dreadful jerked inside Seth. “It is signed by you.”

  “Do you have it? Let me see.”

  Seth handed it over. He watched his brother-in-law's expression grow troubled. The note had not come from him. Something was wrong.