Surrender the Wind

by RITA GERLACH

  Seth sat in the saddle and stared hard before him. Sorrow rippled over his skin and he moved his eyes over the edges of the walls, the door, the charred bricks, broken glass, and stone facade. Then he dismounted to go inside.

  At first, the door would not budge. The heat from the fire had warped the jamb. Leaning his shoulder against it, he shoved hard. It skidded open, and he stepped through into the hallway, grimy with soot.

  From the west wing, Seth took the servants’ stairs, which was now the only way to the second story of the house. The door to the room he had shared with his wife sat open. He stepped in, looked with a weary sigh around the chamber. Without thinking, he pushed the latticed windows of the balcony open. He stepped out and looked at the hills. The memory of Juleah wrapped in his arms, with her back to his chest, suddenly flooded his mind. Here is where they would watch the sun set and the stars brighten, sometimes to see the northern lights dance across the night sky.

  He turned back inside. The bedcovers were pulled down. His heart sank to think Juleah had been preparing to go to sleep before the inferno took her life. The scent of lavender and rose still lingered.

  He took out a clean shirt and breeches and shoved them into a saddlebag. He expected he would stay at Henry Chase several days, perhaps weeks. The idea crossed his mind that he might never return. His Bible sat on the night table. He picked it up, held it in his hand, and placed it with the rest of his things.

  When he finished, he went over to Juleah's wardrobe closet and opened it. Her clothes were gone—every gown, every frock. Her teak jewel box was empty. Looters had moved quickly, and it caused Seth's heart to sink lower.

  He rummaged through drawers and searched for what he did not know. Her undergarments were there, her stockings and garters, the pair of pink silk slippers he had bought her. But what was this on the floor behind the chair? He reached over and picked up the gown she had worn the day they were married. The right shoulder was torn and the front of the bodice shredded. He clutched it within his hands, and his heart slammed in his chest as a startling revelation filled him. He pressed the folds of the gown against his face and wept.

  A lock of Juleah's hair, held together by a silk crimson ribbon, lay on her dressing table. Seth picked it up and gazed at it as it lay in his palm, the chestnut color, the silkiness and beauty. He closed his hand over it and put it in his pocket beside his heart in the same place he kept her ring.

  Out in the hall, he walked along the Persian runner back to the servants’ stairs leading to the kitchen. From there, he went back to the hall and toward the east side of the house. He brushed his hand along the wall, where the paper had peeled back from the heat. At the far end, near a window that had reached the ceiling, a brass candlestick lay upon the blackened floor. Leading from it, an even blacker thread spread like distorted fingers up the wall.

  Seth bent down to study the pattern. Questions raced through his mind. Why had the fire started here? Someone had a candle in hand, passed down the hall in the night, and dropped it. He supposed it could have been Juleah. She might have grown restless and gotten up to go downstairs. But then, perhaps someone or something had woken her. Perhaps she was going down to answer the door.

  Seth stood and turned toward the place where the staircase had been. He dare not go any farther, for the house was unstable at this point. The Delft vase lay broken on the floor, the table it had sat on overturned. Had Juleah struggled to get out, or had she fought to get away from someone?

  He tried to visualize the candle falling, flame catching the curtains afire. He shook his head and thought that Juleah would have had time to get out by way of the west wing. Then, a reality both frightening and freeing, gripped him.

  Who have I buried-my wife or an intruder?

  He pressed his palm against the wall and slipped down to his knees.

  Show me the truth, Lord. Show me the way. Have I gone mad with what I’m thinking? Has grief blinded my reason?

  Struggling to his feet, he hurried out the front door, grabbed the edge of his saddle, and hauled himself up. Off he raced toward Henry Chase to find an answer, a confirmation, a hope.

  29

  Jupiter was lathered from the hard ride and blew out his nostrils as Seth dismounted. Before he reached the front door, Sarah drew it open and stepped aside for him to enter. He was told Lady Anna had taken to her bed, stricken by grief, and was unable to bear company. The children were out hiking with their father over the hills with his hounds, the Brays and little Nathaniel for company.

  Sarah motioned to Seth to follow her to the kitchen. “And the constable is here, sir,” she whispered. “He’ll eat us out of house and home if he don’t leave soon.”

  Latterbuck sat at the table feasting on cold chicken. When he looked up at Seth standing in the doorway, he tossed down the picked-over bone and leaned back against the chair, which creaked against his weight.

  “You look flushed, Mr. Braxton. Had you a hard ride coming over from Ten Width?”

  Seth moved to the table. “We need to talk.”

  “Indeed we do.” Latterbuck wiped his grimy hands across the front of his waistcoat, and glanced over at Sarah. “You, girl. Bring the gentleman ale, and refill my flagon.”

  Sarah curled her lip and did as he bid her. Seth was even more annoyed by Latterbuck's rude behavior. “This is not a tavern, sir. Be mindful of where you are.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Latterbuck bent forward and shoved the plate aside.

  “You heard me. The girl is not required to wait on us hand and foot. Lady Anna is upstairs with a broken heart and needs this girl more than you or I.” He turned to the wide-eyed young woman. “Go on, Sarah. Attend your mistress.”

  With a bob, she left.

  Latterbuck settled back in his chair. “Hmm. I had forgotten you colonials are more tolerant. Obviously, our way of treating servants is different from yours.”

  “I’ll not have you ordering that girl about as if she belonged to you.” Seth slapped his palm on the table.

  Latterbuck guffawed. “You own slaves and indentures where you’re from. At least we promised to free them if they fought on our side. Your constitution would not.”

  Barely did Seth hear Latterbuck—his heart, mind, and soul twisted with pain. “I’m not here to debate with you.”

  Latterbuck wiggled his head. “Not about politics, anyway. I’ve spoken with Sir Henry and Captain Bray. Both think highly of you. Bray vouched for your whereabouts the night of the fire. You are fortunate to have a witness in that regard.”

  Seth frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “If I had not, would you have clapped me in irons by now?”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “You have given me that impression.”

  “Have you something to hide, Mr. Braxton?”

  “No, Constable.” Seth paced the room.

  Latterbuck scraped his fork over the plate, put it in his mouth, and licked it. “Bray said you received a message requesting you come to London, and you found it to be false. Is that so?”

  “It was a forgery.”

  “Who sent it?”

  “I do not know. A forger does not reveal his true self.”

  “Indeed that is so. And Miss Juleah, she was called away as well?”

  “Yes. The letter said her mother was ill.”

  “I spoke to Yates, too. He claims Lady Anna was indeed having difficulties, of which details he would not divulge. He did not recall sending your lady word of it. So, we can assume it may have been Sir Henry that sent the message. He denies it, but he is forgetful of what he may or may not have done. Whoever it was must have been concerned for her ladyship.”

  “Juleah would have recognized her father's handwriting. He would have signed it.” Seth kept his eyes fixed on Latterbuck, annoyed at the shoddy deductions of a man who claimed to be a professional.

  Latterbuck appeared unmoved. “I’m curious about one thing. Why did you not go with your wife, with the hope of f
inding all was well enough for you both to travel on to London together?”

  “The message was urgent. We agreed I’d go to London and she would join me later.”

  Latterbuck paused to rub his chin. “I see. I spoke with Mr. Banes. He claims you asked to view your grandfather's will a week or so ago. Have you had some concerns about your inheritance?”

  “Indeed not.”

  “A formality, I suppose. Banes gave it to you then?”

  “It is locked away at Ten Width.”

  “May I have the key?”

  “What for?” Seth stared at him incredulously.

  “It would be best if you allowed me to remove it from the house for examination.”

  “You question its authenticity?”

  “It is standard procedure in this case.”

  Against his better instincts, Seth handed him the brass key he kept in his pocket. “You’ll find it in the right-hand drawer of the desk in the study.”

  Latterbuck gave him a smug smile and took the key from Seth's hand. “I’ll return it once I’m through with my investigation.”

  Seth gave him a wry smile. “It is not the only copy, I’m sure.”

  “Nevertheless I wish to view the one in your possession. You’ve been to Ten Width. Why did you go there so soon after burying your wife?”

  “To see the damage … and to grieve.” Seth filled a mug of ale and ignored Latterbuck when he pushed his empty flagon across the table.

  “On my way here, I passed some workmen,” Latterbuck said. “They informed me they were hired to clear the debris and start rebuilding the damaged wing.”

  “Why waste time?” Seth told him. “I’ll not be staying at Henry Chase, but going back home. Looters stole my wife's jewelry and clothes.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “I believe there was a struggle between my wife and an intruder. Look at this.” He pulled the gown out of the carpetbag and showed it to Latterbuck. “It is torn, here and here.”

  “So, looters fought over the gown and damaged it. What of it?”

  “I believe that fire was no accident. Juleah would have had time to get out. I’m not sure things are as they appear.”

  Frustration built within him, tightened his muscles, and prickled over his skin. One corner of his mouth twitched. Sweat beaded over his forehead. What he was about to say was risky, but he had to speak his mind, even if the constable would think he was crazy.

  He put his hands on the table, leaned forward, and looked Latterbuck straight in the eye. “I believe Juleah is alive.”

  Latterbuck pinched his brows together. “Did you not identify the body?”

  Seth stared at the garment. “I could not look at it. You should understand the reasons why.”

  “But upon the finger of the corpse was her wedding ring.”

  “An intruder stole it, placed it upon her own finger, and perished in the fire.”

  Latterbuck stared back at Seth with a skeptical gleam in his eyes. “Then who is the person you buried, Mr. Braxton? Where is your wife now?”

  By Latterbuck's expression, he did not believe a word of what Seth said. That slight curve of his lips and the way his eyes narrowed said everything. “You think I’m mad?” Seth said.

  “Grief makes a man do and say what makes no sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense.”

  “Your wife is gone, sir. You must accept it.”

  Seth slammed his fist onto the table. How could Latterbuck be such an idiot? “I am right about this, and as the squire of Ten Width, I demand you investigate my claims. Otherwise, Constable, I’ll go over your head, report your incompetence, and take it upon myself to find my wife.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind, sir!” Latterbuck shouted back. “Leave it to a professional to sort things out. I’ve ways of discovering the truth you have not even thought of.”

  Seth could have taken Latterbuck by the neckcloth and shook him. But he held back, for it would do no good to use force. He took in a long breath to calm his anger.

  “Then do your job,” Seth demanded. “I’ll take care of what I, as a husband, know I must do.”

  James Bonnecker lumbered up the steep limestone slopes that led from the beach. He paused to catch his breath and glanced back at the waves that brushed over the shore. For once in his life, or perhaps twice, Bonnecker decided to do something meritorious. What he had seen with his own eyes, heard with his own ears, had set his teeth on edge. Leading the pirate's life, he had seen much in his day. But this beat all. He tried, but he could not sit idle and do nothing. Was there not a code of chivalry left in England? Shouldn’t a man, no matter how high or low he may be, defend the helpless? And wasn’t it wicked to take blood money?

  When he reached the top of the precipice, he glanced back to the inlets along the coast. The sea mirrored a dark blue sky. A balmy wind blew heavy with the scent of salt.

  In order to keep the stiff breeze from blowing it off his head, Bonnecker squashed down his ragged tricorn hat and crossed the road. He went up a grassy hill pocked with young trees. A footpath through the woods led to the other side and was a shortcut to Henry Chase.

  It’ll be safer going this way, instead of walking in the wide open.

  Yet with all his gathered bravery, Bonnecker could not keep his eyes from widening at the slightest sound. A covey of quail flew up before him. His heart skipped a beat and he leaned his back against the trunk of a tree to gather his tremulous nerves.

  Steady there, mate. You’ve faced foes at sea, and you let a dumb batch of birds scare the living daylights out of ye? Gather your courage, man. Don’t be squeamish.

  He took a deep breath and moved on. His eyes darted here and there, hoping no one had followed him. He passed the place where they had found Hetty Shanks. A cold chill ran straight up his spine. Aye, it was the place, for someone had painted a cross on the tree to ward off evil and make Hetty rest quiet. Bonnecker made the sign of the cross over his chest and strode on.

  A few miles more and he turned at a bend in the path where Henry Chase would be on the other side of the hill through the trees. The land opened up before him, misty, and forlorn. He left the brooding woods and hurried into an open plain of grazing land.

  Plowing his way through a herd of sheep, he crossed the field and headed toward the house. Ewes and tups crisscrossed in front of him, bleating and leaping as he shooed them away. Once he reached the door, Bonnecker pounded on it and waited for someone to open up.

  The family sat together in the sitting room. A fire simmered in the hearth and set the room aglow. Lady Anna, on the settee with Jane wrapped in her arms, stared at it in silence. Sir Henry smoked his clay pipe. Thomas sat Indian-style upon the floor and read aloud from a book of poems his sister had given him on his birthday. They spoke of pirates and treasure, adventure and heroism. The words reinforced in Seth his desire to search for Juleah. He would have left hours ago if it had not been for Lady Anna's plea that he linger with them.

  Michael Bray, in an armchair near his wife, propped his boots up on the fireplace grill. Caroline sat in the chair to the right of him with Nathaniel asleep in her arms.

  Growing impatient, Seth took a turn about the room, and paused to look out the window at the misty land outside. In his hand, he held a list—events in sequence, names, places, conclusions, and his plans to find Juleah.

  Then, as his heart tore in his chest, he crumbled the paper in his hand. Was he mad for concluding she lived? If she were alive, Juleah would have come to him. She would not have left him to grieve and to bury a nameless person in her place. She would not hurt him in that way or hurt her family. He had to accept she was gone. But how?

  He ran his hand over his face. A part of him fought against doubt once more, and he opened the paper and stared down at it. Footsteps out in the hall echoed. Sarah entered and approached Seth.

  “There's a man says he wants to talk to you, sir.”

  He entered the kitchen. James Bonn
ecker sat at the table. It was a surprise indeed. Bonnecker shot up from his chair. His face was pale and his eyes wide.

  “Are you hungry, Bonnecker?” Seth had no doubt food would loosen a famished tongue. “If you are, help yourself to what is left in that pot on the table and the bread as well.”

  “Aye, thank ye, sir. I’d welcome a home-cooked meal any day.” Bonnecker grabbed a plate and spoon and scooped up what remained of the stew. His hand shook. “I guess you’re wondering why I’ve come.”

  “I am.”

  “I heard about the fire at Ten Width. A shame that.” Bonnecker loaded his mouth with food. “Then I heard someone at the tavern say you’d come here to Henry Chase.”

  Eager to know the purpose of Bonnecker's visit Seth drew up a chair. “I imagine people will be talking. But what of it?”

  “Aye, people are dunces.” Bonnecker tapped his foot on the floor.

  “You’re nervous,” said Seth. “Is something the matter?”

  “Food will ease it. Now, I need to go slow with what I got to tell ye. It’d be of a shock for me to blurt it out all at once.”

  Bonnecker swallowed and waved his spoon close to his face. “I may hang from the longest yardarm for what I’m about to tell ye, but I hope you’ll find it in your heart to be kind to an old seadog like me. I’ve not many years left, and I’d like it if I could live ’em out to my appointed day. So, if they come after me, I expect ye to give me aid. But, I’ll take whatever the will of God is.”

  Seth dropped his hand from his chin. “Get on with it, Bonnecker. I’m listening.”

  “I took money for the letter I brought to your lady. People pay other people lower than their class to deliver letters to folks, and I’ve no problem with that, as I’m sure you don’t either, sir. But what haunts my brain is that the letter parted you and your lady.”

  “Why should you feel bad? It wasn’t your fault.”

  “ ’Cause I just does.” Bonnecker wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat. “The man who gave me the letter said it was from a doctor, but I never did ask him who. I kind of assumed he were the doctor's servant, you see. He was dressed in that form of clothing, sir. Late last night some of my lads and I went to the tavern. We sat near the door, when who’d enter but some fellow named Captain Darden.”