by RITA GERLACH
“How do you know it was him?” Seth was curious as to where this was leading. He had a gut feeling he was about to find out if his suspicions about Darden were correct.
“I heard the serving girl call him by name. ‘Evening, Captain Darden,’ said she. ‘What ye be havin’?”
It was a crude imitation of a female's voice Bonnecker made, but effective.
“When she came back with his ale, I heard her say how sorry she was that Ten Width caught fire and that the mistress died. His face turned fierce. Aye, he drank and drank with his head bowed. At times, he’d run his hand over his face and tremble like he’d been frightened by something. I thought maybe he were sick or grieving for Miss Juleah, since he loved her once, and I know that ’cause folks talk. Next three men came—rough-looking fellows. They sat with Captain Darden and he paid each of them money.”
“Do you know who the men were?”
“Aye, they’re seamen, I can tell you. I was making my way to the tavern, when I saw a coach pass by on the high road. That same coach was at the side of the tavern when I reached it. A woman was inside and there were those lads. Ah, now here's where it gets tricky.”
Bonnecker paused to taste the ale, smacked his lips, and ran his sleeve over his mouth a second time. A chill ran through Seth when he mentioned the woman.
“I heard one man say, ‘Mind yer own business, lads. Not a one of ye will go near the lady. Yer not to touch her, nor speak to her. If ye do, ye’ll get the lash, every last scurvy dog of ye.’ When I realized what kind of men they were, I got away as quick as jack and come to find ye.”
Like a flood, understanding swept over Seth. It welled up inside and he knocked over the chair when he stood. “It was Juleah, my wife, wasn’t it?”
“I can’t say who the lady was for sure, sir,” Bonnecker told him. “But it's some poor lass. I should’ve tried to rescue her, but they’d have beat me to a bloody pulp—maybe even killed me.”
As if lightning had struck him, Seth reached over and pulled Bonnecker up by the shoulder. “Show me where they have gone.”
“I can’t, lad. The men took off, and the coach rolled away down the road and vanished in the gloom.”
“Where to?”
“I ain’t sure, but they were headed up the coast. If that lass has been taken against her will in the night, someone doesn’t want folks seein’ her traveling over land in the light o’ day. And those lads, they were shady-looking fellows if I ever saw. And if it be your lady in that coach, then who was burned up in your house?”
Every muscle in Seth's body stiffened. A chill charged through him, and he let go of Bonnecker. For a moment, he allowed what the old pirate had told him to sink in. Struggling between the possibilities, he stared at the floor. Then he hurried from the house.
Outside he swung into the saddle of his horse and gathered up the reins. There was no time to tell anyone where he was headed to or why. With a fury, he dug his heels hard into the horse's sides. Jupiter reared up and shot off. Over the fields, Seth raced his steed, crossed a bridle track, and plunged the horse into the path through the forest, toward the limestone precipices above the sea.
30
On the road that skirted the cliffs, Seth turned his horse full circle, uncertain of which way to go. He looked out at the sea. The wind blew through his hair and ruffled his clothes. The jingle of a harness preceded a horse that stampeded up the road toward him. He tried to move Jupiter on, but the horse refused, reared up, and beat the air with his hooves. The rider, upon reaching Seth, pulled hard on the reins. His mount stomped its hooves to a halt.
Bray slid off the saddle. “Bonnecker told me everything. You should not have left without me, without saying anything. I want to help you, Seth.”
Seth dismounted and went toward Bray. “My wife is alive, Michael.”
“Seth—”
“You saw her gown, how it was torn. You heard me out about the fire. Bonnecker's story makes sense of it now.”
“The woman he claims to have seen could be anyone. It was cruel of Bonnecker to have told you such a tale. Do not listen to him. Come back.”
Seth raked his fingers through his hair, his hand trembling under the strain. “Who it was I buried, I know not.”
Bray put his hand on Seth's shoulder. “It was Juleah, my friend. I know. I took the ring from her finger.”
“Did you see her face?”
Bray paused and frowned. “No.”
“Neither of us did. The ring was stolen and the intruder put it on her own finger.”
Bray looked back at Seth, grieved. “Please, come back with me.”
“Not until I speak to Darden and shake the truth out of him.” Seth took hold of Bray. “Where does he live? Tell me!”
Shocked, Bray stared at Seth. “Somewhere north of here, an old place called Crown Cove.”
“I have to go there.” Without hesitating, Seth turned to leave but found his way barred by Latterbuck, his deputy, and three of his officers armed with muskets.
“Seth Braxton,” said the constable, “I arrest you in the name of the law for the unfortunate death of Juleah Fallowes, your wife. You are also charged this day for having Ten Width manor set alight.”
Bray charged forward. “This is absurd!”
Latterbuck drew back his coat to reveal the flintlock pistol in his belt. His men took aim. “I suggest you not interfere, young sir. Step away and let me do my duty.”
The words were too unbelievable to comprehend. Had he heard wrong? Had the roaring of the sea tumbled Latterbuck's words? With his will fixed upon one thing, Seth went forward for his horse. George put forth his arm and stopped him.
“No, Mr. Braxton,” said Latterbuck with a grim frown. “You must return with me to the gaol in the village. From there you will stand before the king's magistrate.”
“I am innocent and you know it,” Seth recoiled.
“Hmm. Well, you’ll have to convince him of your innocence.”
Bray stepped between them, his face taut with emotion and his eyes ablaze. “Constable, you know I was with Seth when Ten Width burned. He and I were returning from London and saw the fire together as we came over the hill. He loved his wife and never would have done her harm. I demand you let him pass.”
“I must deny your request,” Latterbuck said. “I suspect Mr. Braxton hired a pair of ruffians to set Ten Width afire out of revenge. We caught one lingering in the woods near the estate.”
“Where is he?” Seth demanded. “Bring him forth and let him accuse me to my face.”
Latterbuck shrugged. “I cannot. He tried to escape and was shot dead.”
Seth set his teeth. “Then you have no proof of anything.”
Latterbuck's face reddened. Saliva foamed in the corners of his plump lips. “The will was not where you told me it would be. That's all the proof I needed to know you are behind this, robbing the rightful heir of a fortune.”
“Impossible. Banes gave it to me and must have a copy.”
“Well, he does not.”
“He sent letters to America saying I had inherited.”
“Do you have these letters?”
“I’ve witnesses. My sister knows what changes my grandfather made.”
“What is in writing is more binding than the word of a woman.”
Seth's face flushed with outrage. How he would convince the pig-headed constable to see otherwise, he had no idea. In Latterbuck's eyes was self-exaltation, a glint of pride that he would bring a rebel to his knees.
He drew near until the foul odor that came from Latterbuck, of sweat, rum, and weeks without bathing, moved him back. “Can you be the kind of man so blinded by ambition and loathing for another that you would accuse me of murdering my wife, the woman I loved with every breath of my body?”
“I’ve no sympathy for you.”
“I am not asking for your sympathy, just reason.”
“You’ve brought this on yourself. Did you think I’d not look upon you with som
e disregard? You are a rebel, an insurrectionist, a blasphemer against God and king, who came here claiming to have inherited his loyalist grandfather's estate. You wed an Englishwoman and tainted her with your American ideals. You learned of the true inheritor and worked out a way of destroying that inheritance. This story of your sister's child, I’ve no doubt that too was part of your plan. Perhaps you had something to do with Hetty Shanks, too?”
Outraged, Seth trembled. “How far will you go?”
“It is my duty as an officer of the king to take you into custody. If you are innocent, as you claim to be, produce the truth. There are those among us who believe otherwise.”
Latterbuck made a slight gesture with his hand and his officers stepped forward. At first, Seth faced them without a word more. He glanced at Bray, whose face was desperate with what to do.
“You must listen to Seth,” Bray said, giving rein to fury.
“He’ll have his day to speak, young sir. Give way, or I’ll have you arrested for obstructing my duty,” Latterbuck warned.
“My wife is alive,” Seth said, while he stared hard at Latterbuck. “Ask James Bonnecker. He’ll tell you Edward Darden is behind this.”
Latterbuck looked at Seth with mock pity. “It seems regret has caused you to go mad. Your wife is gone, buried in the churchyard. Grieve for yourself, Mr. Braxton, for no doubt you shall die a traitor's death after all.”
If wisdom could have ruled Seth, he would have resigned to the constable and his officers with willingness and confidence. Yet a stronger, a more aggressive will surged within when the reality of what he was about to face, and how it would delay his chances, overtook him. Inside his belt was his pistol. His horse was out of reach, the bridle being held by one of Latterbuck's men. Behind him roared the sea. Its dark depths swelled with the wind. The precipice hung thirty feet above Bideford Bay and was covered in grass. There was nothing there to hinder, no trees or rocks in the way.
With a quick jerk of his head, Seth glanced behind him and measured the steps he needed to take. He stood back and held his arms out in resignation.
The deputies rushed forward. They caught him about the arms.
He twisted and turned. He clenched his teeth and rallied his strength. Breathing hard, he looked up through the strands of hair that fell over his eyes. He caught sight of Michael Bray. One deputy had his musket pointed at his chest to hold him back from aiding Seth.
Swinging his body to the left, he broke free, turned, and rushed to the edge of the cliff. He jumped out away from the perilous crag, fell, and plunged into the cold sea.
31
Many waters cannot quench love; neither can the floods
drown it.
—Song of Solomon 8:7
Moonlight poured through leaded glass, alighting on Juleah's face. Her eyes moved beneath translucent lids, and she opened them. Startled to see she lay in a stranger's room, in a bed she did not know, her breath caught. Surrounding her were dingy white, plastered walls, crisscrossed with hair-thin cracks like the threads of a spider's web. Above her, a canopy of olive-green damask stretched across the bedposts. Cream-colored curtains fell along the sides of each stilt.
Warm beneath the down quilt, her bare legs gathered the softness of the sheets. She drew them up against her as a sudden surge of fear swept through her mind. Why had she not awakened in her room at Ten Width? Where was she?
“Seth?” she whispered. “Where are you?”
She put out her hand and wanted him to take it. She glanced around the room and searched for him. Then she remembered. He had gone to London. Perhaps that explained things. Had he sent for her? Did she now lie in a carriage inn along the Thames Road? Or was this a room in Caroline's house?
Her head hurt and she turned to raise herself up. Pain shot through her temples. A flood of dizziness washed over her. She tried again, slipped her legs over the side of the bed, and touched the planks of the floor with her bare feet. The wood felt cold against her toes and heels.
She made her way to the window. Her hair hung about her face and neck, and she pushed it away from her eyes. The window stood open. She drew in a deep breath, leaned against the sill, and felt the warm breeze caress her face and throat. She gazed out at rolling fields turned sapphire in the moonlight. Lines of trees grouped from hill to hill, and a pond glimmered in the evening haze as still as a looking glass.
Juleah turned when she heard the door swing open. In stepped a woman she did not know. She wore a gray homespun frock, cut high above the bosom. From the sleeves poked a row of plain ruffles, framing delicate ivory hands with closely cut nails. The woman's hair was orange as a fox's fur, as were her lashes and brows.
“Who are you, and where am I?” Juleah said. “Where is my maid?”
The woman set on the bedside table a spoon and an amber bottle with a brown cork stopper. “There is nothing to worry about. You’re safe and here to rest. Now, come lie back down.”
“Where is my husband?”
“Aw ay.”
Juleah put her hand over her eyes and a flash of memory came forward. She rubbed her temples and hoped it would relieve the throbbing. “I remember now.” Her eyes widened. “A fire!”
The woman set her hand upon Juleah's shoulder. “I know nothing about that. You might have dreamt it. Your gentleman brought you here and I’m to look after you.” She guided Juleah back to bed. “Now, try to please him by doing everything the doctor prescribed. Understand?”
The woman yanked the cork from the bottle and poured amber liquid into the silver spoon. She set it at Juleah's lips, and Juleah swallowed. It tasted bittersweet, thick like honey, and soothing as it slid down her throat.
“Where is Claire?”
“I do not know her. Whoever she is, she isn’t here.”
“Claire is my maid. You must send for her.”
“I will tell your gentleman. For now, you have me to look after you.”
“By what name shall I call you?” Juleah began to feel sleepy again.
“Judith Dirk.” She tucked in the bedclothes. “Born and raised in Kincardine O’Neal in merry Scotland.”
Juleah glanced about the room. “This is not my room. In whose house am I?”
“Why you’re in your gentleman's house. Don’t you remember?”
A flood of uncertainty overwhelmed Juleah. Her head ached so bad that the depth of Judith Dirk's reply did not sink in. “I am at Ten Width.” Then she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Later, when she woke, a bell counted out the hour from a clock on the mantel. She looked over to see Judith Dirk laying out clothes. On a table sat a glowing candle in a brass stick.
Judith Dirk turned her head and smiled over at Juleah. “Are ye hungry? You should eat something before we leave, for there's no telling what kind of food we’ll be offered on The Raven.”
“The Raven?” Juleah's voice barely reached above a whisper.
Judith Dirk slipped a hanger out from the shoulders of a gown. “A fine ship from what I’m told. Your gentleman made plans for us to sail in her.”
Juleah put her hand up to her forehead. “I do not understand. I need to see him.”
“He's not at home.”
“When will he be back?”
“I’m not sure.”
Juleah struggled to rise. “I want to see him. Oh, why does my head go round?”
“If you don’t lie still, you’ll sicken.” Judith Dirk spoke with arresting firmness and pressed her hands on Juleah's shoulders to make her lay back down.
Juleah shoved away. She stood and rushed to the door. “Seth! Seth!” She jerked and rattled the handle. A moment and she heard footsteps and relaxed. Seth was coming. The door opened, and there stood the tall figure of a man in the darkness of the hall. She gazed up at him, unable to make out his face. Her knees buckled. She felt his arms go around her, lift her, and carry her across the room to the bed.
Having no will to fight it, Juleah sank lower, deeper into unwanted sleep, where nei
ther dreams nor nightmares invaded.
32
Seth shot down into the chilly depths. The strength of the tide pulled at him. He’d stay under for as long as he could, hoping Latterbuck and his men could not see him below. His lungs were about to explode, and he slowly released his breath. He swam toward the surface and battled the hold of the sea.
Close to the shore, blank fog surrounded him. He groped with his hands until they touched stony edges and he pulled close to them. He glanced up from his rocky shelter to see the dark and silent sky frowning above him. Within the breaks, a myriad of stars stood out. High in the heavens the moon broke free from the embrace of clouds.
Farther down the beach, he spotted the restless sparkle of lanterns. Latterbuck's men were searching for him. Their voices were faint, but Seth could tell they were weary of their quest.
“Nothing's here,” he heard one shout. “We’ll find a body in a day or two.”
They believed he was dead, drowned in the sea, crushed against harsh rocks, a man so grief-stricken that he took his own life. He was glad for it, at least for now, at least until he found Juleah. What would Latterbuck say to him then?
He hoped nothing hard had befallen Michael Bray. It grieved Seth to think Bray might believe he had died and that he would tell his sister.
A moment passed and the searchers turned back. They gathered together like a troop of fireflies and mounted the stone steps that led to the land above the cliffs. He watched them move off until atop the hill their lanterns grew small and disappeared into the darkness.
Those who searched for him were gone, save one man, who without the aid of a lantern climbed down the rocky slope. Moonlight grew strong and Seth watched him walk along the beach. The man paused and looked around. A moment later, he moved into the shadow of the cliff face where Seth could no longer see him. A twig snapped, and a bird started from its nighttime perch. It mounted the wind and merged into the deep indigo heavens. Seth's heart pounded against his chest and his breath came in short, silent gasps.
