by Adair, Mary
She added a spoon of sugar to her tea and stirred the brew gently as she continued. "I'm proud to say, in spite of the color of my skin and hair, I am thoroughly Cherokee." The only sound in the room was the gentle swish of the spoon in the cup and the light ping as the spoon came to rest on the saucer.
Dawn was aware that Sara bobbed to Lady Gaylord and quietly left the room. She also noticed how William watched her new friend's every move until she left the room.
"I was just explaining to William the importance of family to the Cherokee." If Marguerite begged for a story, Dawn would give her one to think about. She faced her adversary, carefully choosing her words. "For example, if some evil is done to someone in a family, and especially if that evil leads to death, it becomes a..." she paused as if struggling for the right word, "a mission for one of the other family members to discover and punish the wrongdoer."
"Oui, I see," Marguerite puffed with enthusiasm. "Revenge!"
So, Marguerite is vengeful as well as conceited and a snob. "Justice," Dawn corrected as she took mental note of what she had just learned about Raven's fiancée. "Do civilized men not have a way to correct or punish?"
"But of course," Marguerite answered with a wave of her hand.
"In England," William spoke up, "as I am sure it is in Charles Town, we have appointed men whose job it is to investigate. It is against the law for family members to involve themselves in the carrying out of justice." Dawn was aware that he watched her closely.
"What about dueling " Dawn asked innocently as she raised her cup to her lips.
"Ah yes, there is dueling." He flashed Dawn a mischievous grin. "It's an honorable way, if carried out properly, for gentlemen" he stressed the word, "to handle minor differences." He waggled a finger in warning. "Not something for a lady to be concerned or involved with."
"Oui. Spoken like a true man." Marguerite raised her teacup in salute. "Tell me, Willie. How many duels have you fought over the honor of , shall we say, a lady?"
"Enough of this talk of revenge and duels," Lady Montgomery made her presence known. She lowered her brows as she frowned at William, "Which by the way are illegal." Her futures softened as she glided to the small table where she helped herself to a cup of tea. "Dawn, I'm so glad you're back from your ride, dear. I am just dying to hear more about what brought you here."
"More! What have you heard Wilhelmina, and how did you hear more than me?"
William rolled his eyes heavenward. "You see," William spoke to Dawn. "If one knows more than the other, it unbalances them both."
"Oh, Willie, don't be silly. Dawn told me she had a dream that she was needed. That's all she had time to tell me. Please dear, tell us all about it."
"Oh, my." Marguerite was alight with interest "Do all Cherokees take their dreams so seriously?" she asked with an obvious sneer, making the word Cherokee sound like a deprecating curse.
Ignoring the nasty tone, Dawn made her explanation to the grandmothers and William. "The Great Spirit often talks to us in our dreams and in other ways as well. Any warrior can have a dream vision. Sometimes there is one who has an especially strong gift. My mother is one of those blessed in this way. I believe I am as well."
"How can you be so sure?" Marguerite asked. "Perhaps your vision was no more than a simple dream." She brought her cup up to her lips to sip as she studied Dawn over the rim.
"It was very real." Dawn assured her. "Dream visions are quite different from ordinary sleeping dreams, although the Spirit can speak through them as well."
Lady Montgomery, perched in eager anticipation on the edge of her chair, could hold her tongue no longer. "What was your dream vision about, dear?"
"Yes. Yes, Dawn. Please tell us," Lady Gaylord begged.
Dawn looked to William, silently seeking support. What she saw was skepticism.
Marguerite glared over the rim of her cup. "By all means, Dawn. Tell us what you saw."
Dawn was learning to hate that superior smirk on Marguerite’s face. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was here to save Raven from a person threatening to end his life, not merely to ruin his life with a bad marriage.
"It's quite simple, really." She fluttered her eyelids in perfect imitation of Marguerite. "Raven needs me, so I am here." Let the femme de la soiree make of that what she will!
To her dismay, it was William who insisted she explain. "What do you mean, needs you?" he asked.
Dawn watched Marguerite as she answered in a calm, firm tone. "His life is in danger."
Lady Gaylord and Lady Montgomery shrieked in unison, a nerve-racking experience for everyone in the room.
William's brow drew down; an expression not unlike Raven's, Dawn mused. And like Raven, he probably expected her to take heed. Her chin jutted out slightly.
"Why didn't a man from your village come?" William asked in a cool tone.
"It was my vision. It was meant for me," she answered just as coolly.
"Oh, I see," Marguerite pounced like a cat on a vermin. "Raven told me you were like a sister to him." She waggled two fingers before her face. "Tagging after him when you were small. So, out of this obligation to family you feel you must help him." She shrugged in disdain. "I just can't imagine your father agreeing to this. Why didn't he come himself or, at the very least, with you?"
Dawn let her eyes slide from William to Marguerite. She was truly becoming annoyed by these questions. "I am the one who had the dream. It is for me to save Raven's life or answer the blood cry if I cannot."
"Answer the blood cry!" the grandmothers shrieked.
Dawn set her cup gently in its saucer and carefully lowered it to the small table. Another shriek of that magnitude and she just might find the delicate china either in pieces within her grip or flying aimlessly across the room.
Marguerite laughed nervously. "Really, Dawn. You had us all going for a while." Both ladies relaxed and giggled as well, pleased to think that they just fell prey to an unusual sense of humor.
William rose from his chair. "Well, as interesting as this little visit has become, I must beg my leave. Pressing matters and all, I'm sure you ladies understand."
As his grandmothers bid him farewell, he turned to Dawn. "Will you walk me to door. I'd like to have a word with you in private."
"Oh, dear," Lady Gaylord objected, and started to rise. "That would not be proper."
"Stay there, Grams." William pointed a finger at his Grandmother, who pursed her lips in disapproval, but lowered herself back to her seat.
Dawn obediently followed William to the door. He took her by the arm and pulled her a step closer. "Are you sure that Raven's strap was cut? It could have just broken. Those things do happen." His fingers tightened slightly. "I don't want you getting some silly notion in your head about blood cries."
She glanced down at his hand on her arm, and then looked up into his eyes with an unwavering gaze. Dawn respected William's show of authority in his home, but she was not about to be manhandled. With a look akin to surprise at his boldness, he released her arm. She whispered in a harsh tone, "As I said, you don't understand. It wasn't intended for Raven, it was intended for me. I was riding Thunder."
"Nonsense. No one rides Thunder but Raven. The blasted horse won't let anyone else on him. Besides, your mount would have worn a sidesaddle."
"No. I was not prepared to sit in a sidesaddle. I sent word to the stables to saddle both horses accordingly."
Understanding dawned in William's eyes. "No wonder Raven was in such a rotten mood."
Dawn frantically waved her hand in warning. "Lower your voice! With my background, I was in no more danger of injury than Raven."
William was not placated. "I understand, but that is not the point. Few people here know that much about your background." He poked the same offensive finger in her face that he used on his grandmothers. "You stay here."
"Where are you going? I must go, too."
"What you must do is stay right here as Raven instructed. Don't
look at me like that. I'm going to see Raven. I promise, I'll be back soon and we will get to the bottom of this."
Dawn stamped her foot in disgust. She brought her hands up and shoved William in the chest. "Oh, you are as bad as Raven! I can take care of myself."
William easily caught her waving hands. "I'm sure you can, but this is not your village. Things are done differently here." He awkwardly released her wrists. "I do promise to help you, Dawn, but you must help me as well. Surely you know that I don't want anything to happen to Raven any more than you do." He picked up his gloves. "I'll be back shortly. Now, promise me that you'll stay here until you hear from me."
Dawn glanced back over her shoulder and drew in a long breath. Turning a determined glare to William, she warned. "Don't think you can keep me waiting too long."
***
Dawn returned to the parlor in time to hear Marguerite thank the ladies for the lovely visit and announce her departure for home.
Lady Gaylord stood. "It has been a pleasure. I'll help you prepare to leave and have your carriage brought around."
As Marguerite left the room, followed by Lady Gaylord, Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. She walked to the fireplace and studied a portrait that hung above it. "This is a lovely likeness of William and his parents."
"Yes, it is," Lady Montgomery said, joining her.
"How old is William in this picture?"
"He's seventeen. It was four years after he met Raven for the first time. You know, my son tried to convince Raven to sit as well, but he refused."
Dawn glanced at Lady Montgomery, then back at the portrait. "It would not have been appropriate for him to be in the family portrait."
Lady Montgomery sighed. "That's what he said, but he and William are as close as brothers. Raven was so fond of my son and daughter-in-law. The accident was only weeks after the portrait was finished. Raven was crushed. He tried to be so brave, comforting all of us. I think after a while it was just all too hard for him and he wanted to go home."
"I remember that year," Dawn said thoughtfully. "When he came home, he was very angry. He was always angry, but that year was different. My father reminded him of his manhood trials when he earned the name Raven Who Flies To Meet The Clouds. Da wanted him to understand his anger grew and would soon control him. That would be a bad thing for a warrior. Da hoped he would feel proud and put his anger behind him, but Raven couldn't. He rode out of the village one night to hunt alone. He didn't know a young brave, who saw in him the things he could not see himself, followed. Little Fox was found the next day. He had been alone when a bear attacked him." Dawn paused as she took a ragged breath. "Raven blamed himself."
The grandmother's eyes misted, "Poor boy. How could Raven have known he was followed? Did the village blame him for the boy's death?"
Dawn dropped her head. "There are ways about my people that you do not understand. A warrior is above all else a protector of his people. A warrior must be aware of all that is around him. Raven should have known he was being followed. If he had not allowed his anger to control him, he would have known." She wiped away a tear that dropped onto her folded hands.
"When Raven heard about the boy, he went into a rage. It took my father and two others to hold him down. They took Raven from the village. My father stayed with him for many days. When they returned, my father took the place of a father beside Raven as they stood before the Chiefs. Raven was told he must leave the village. That was a hard time for my father."
"Yes, I remember. Your father wouldn't tell us what had happened, only that Raven was not in Chota Town. He said he had hoped Raven would find peace in England, 'the land of his father, he'd said. Victoria and I thought we could make a difference for him and told James that. We promised him we would take good care of Raven."
Dawn patted her hand. "And so you have."
Lady Montgomery looked back at the portrait. "I don't know. I don't know if the decisions we made were correct."
"Just listen to us." Dawn sniffed loudly and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. "How melancholy we have become. Raven will soon find the man he seeks."
"Ah, you mean his father."
Dawn shook her head. "No. He will find himself." Stuffing the handkerchief away, she squared her shoulders. Enough time had been spent reliving the pain from the past. She wanted to hear something happy. "Tell me, how did William's mother feel about Raven?"
Lady Montgomery's face brightened. "Diana loved him the same as we all did. She was a remarkable woman, our Diana. She saw how much Henry and William loved Raven. She was as quick to place a mother's kiss to his troubled brow as she was to William's."
"Oh, dear." Dawn snatched out her handkerchief again. "I told myself there had been enough tears."
"Ah..." Lady Montgomery took her own handkerchief and patted Dawn's cheeks. "But these are happy tears, are they not?"
"Yes, they are. I'm glad to know Raven had a family to love him when he was not with us."
"Your father is right. Raven is so filled with anger over that which he thinks he was denied him, he is unable to see what was there all along. Try not to worry, dear. I have faith it will all work out." Lady Montgomery opened her arms to Dawn and folded her in a warm embrace.
Chapter Six
William found Raven at the docks supervising the cleanup of the latest disaster to befall Phoenix Company. His gig halted, but he made no move to leave the conveyance. Instead, he watched Raven toss a hefty purse to a Bow Street Runner. The Runner's hasty retreat began the moment his hand caught the prize.
"Did he give you anything useful for that payment?" William called out.
Raven turned and moved with quick, angry strides toward William. "Not yet. It was meant to be an enticement. If he gives me what I want, he'll earn a lot more."
William sprang lightly to the ground. He shook his head and let out a doubtful snort as he brushed his trouser legs to straighten them. "I hope you get what you paid for. These Bow Street Runners are often as villainous as the thieves they chase."
"I'm sure you're right." Raven tossed a still-smoldering beam aside in a furious attempt to release his growing frustration. "I just got word that Golden Lady has run aground near the Scottish coast. I've sent Mr. Hicks out to check on it."
"Golden Lady? Didn't Brown say he had an important pickup to make?"
"That's what he said." Raven took William's arm and pulled him back toward their carriages.
"Will you have your man follow us back to my office so you can ride with me? We have a lot to talk about." Raven waited while William did as he was bid. They both climbed into Raven's phaeton and the carriage pulled slowly onto the cobblestone street.
"What was the Golden Lady doing over by the Scottish coast?" William asked.
Raven's fist struck the side of the coach. "I don't know, but I intend to find out. It was out of port so fast after dumping Dawn in my lap that I was unable to learn its next destination."
William pondered that bit of information. "Then I'd say it was a bit of luck that she ran aground. You're not expecting any ships until spring. I say get the Golden Lady back here and send Dawn home where she belongs."
Raven frowned. "That is my intention. I have every confidence that Hicks will get to the bottom of it and have the Golden Lady back here post haste.” He fixed his gaze on William. “You think me incapable of looking after Dawn?"
William shrugged.
"You're right, of course," Raven mumbled. "It's much too dangerous for Dawn in London. I suppose you've heard about the accident this morning. It was meant for Dawn. Apparently whoever wants me doesn't mind using her."
"Yes, I heard. She could have been seriously hurt." William blanched as he remembered the moment Dawn had revealed the accident's intended victim. He had to admit that the girl showed spunk.
Raven gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "No, not from tumbling off a horse. Not Dawn. Her father had her on a mount before she could walk. Besides, she has an uncanny way with animals."
"It doesn't," Raven answered with a shrug. "You're afraid of it. It's just playing with you."
"I am not afraid of anything," William responded. "I can't believe you're trying to tell me that that mutt has a sense of humor. I suppose it learned it from my grandmother, eh?"
Raven answered with a non-committal grunt and settled deeper into his seat. The lonely sound of shod hoofs drifted upward as each pondered the recent events that had plagued them.
"Great Spirit!" Raven cursed into the silence, giving William a start. "Whatever could have got into Brown to allow Dawn to convince him to bring her here? I'm going to get the Golden Lady back here no matter what Brown says concerning my lack of authority over the ship. And I'm going to send Dawn to Charles Town on it if I have to send you with her to see that she gets there! Meanwhile, I'll send her to Kent to stay at Manor Oaks."
William stole a glance at Raven's stony profile. The situation was growing stickier every day. Raven's obsession to find and rain vengeance upon his phantom father was impossible enough. Now Dawn showing up had further upset everyone's balance.
Bloody Hell...how was he to keep watch in two places at once. He wished he could take a trip to the colonies and leave this whole tangled mess behind. But that wasn't about to happen. There was too much unfinished business here. Raven didn't know how close he was getting to the truth, and he had to be stopped. In the meantime, Dawn needed to be protected. William couldn't allow her to get hurt, which meant he must keep her out of the way. The first order of business had to be getting her safely out of London. "Do you think she will agree to a visit to your country home?"
"No," Raven answered sardonically. "Do you think your grandmothers will agree to a visit?"
