Before the Scarlet Dawn
Before the Scarlet Dawn
“Filled with true-to-life characters whose struggles will linger with readers long after the last page is turned,
Before the Scarlet Dawn
is a memorable story of Revolutionary War-era England and America.”
—Amanda Cabot, author of
Summer of Promise
“Rita Gerlach has written a colorful historical with a feisty heroine on a search for survival, romance, and a place to belong.”
—Cynthia Hickey, author of the Summer Meadows mysteries “While reading
Before the Scarlet Dawn
, you’ll travel back in time—and from England to Maryland—without ever leaving your easy chair! This is a big, beautiful, well-told story of love, faith, and the struggles of war that changed lives and hearts. I can’t wait to read the next book in this series!”
—Loree Lough, best-selling author of more than eighty award-winning books, including reader favorite
From Ashes to Honor
“I fell into this book, thinking I’d escaped into a typical historical romance, but as I followed Eliza Bloome through heartache, sin, guilt, and grief, followed by a questioning of her faith, I couldn’t read it without taking a good look at my own mistakes, my own conceptions about love and romance and how faith can sometimes lead you to some very unusual places.”
—Julie L. Cannon, author of
Truelove & Homegrown Tomatoes
, ’
Mater Biscuit
, and
Twang
Other books by Rita Gerlach
Surrender the Wind
The Daughters of the Potomac Series
Beside Two Rivers
(Coming 2012)
Beyond the Valley
(Coming 2013)
Before the Scarlet
Dawn
Book 1
The Daughters of the Potomac
Series
Rita Gerlach
Nashville, Tennesse
Before the Scarlet Dawn
Copyright © 2011 Rita Gerlach
ISBN 978-1-4267-1414-6
Published by Abingdon Press, P.O. Box 801, Nashville, TN 37202
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form,
stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website,
or transmitted in any form or by any means—digital,
electronic, scanning, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without
written permission from the publisher, except for brief
quotations in printed reviews and articles.
The persons and events portrayed in this work of fiction
are the creations of the author, and any resemblance
to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gerlach, Rita.
Before the scarlet dawn / Rita Gerlach.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-4267-1414-6 (book - pbk. /trade pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Upper class—Fiction.
2. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 3. Great Britain—History—18th century—Fiction. I.
Title.
PS3607.E755B44 2012
813’.6—dc23
2011041510
Unless indicated otherwise, scripture quotations are taken from the
King James or Authorized Version of the Bible.
Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible,
NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978,
1984 by International Bible Society. All rights reserved throughout
the world. Used by permission of International Bible Society.
Printed in the United States of America
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 / 16 15 14 13 12 11
To those longing for forgiveness
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to all who gave me a word of encouragment, a prayer, a hope, in the writing of this novel.
Contents
Part 1
Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.
Song of Solomon 8:6
1
The Hope Valley, Derbyshire, England
April 7, 1775
E
liza Bloome sat forward from the tattered high-backed chair when someone pounded a fist on the front door downstairs. Her father’s Bible lay open on her lap and slipped over her knees to the floor. She bent down to retrieve it, and felt the cold rippled over her fingers through a crack. Wind howled across the downs and moaned through the weatherworn windows. Shivering from the draft, she set another log on the fire and listened to Fiona’s shoes tap down the staircase. Whenever the wind rose fierce like on this night, it held the front door fast. Any moment now her father’s housekeeper would brace herself against it and the jamb until her strength gave out. As Eliza expected, the door slammed on its lock and hinges. The crash echoed up the staircase, mingling with a man’s voice.
The bedroom door quietly swung open.
“Who is it, Fiona?” Eliza glanced at her father, then back at the stout woman standing in the doorway. “Papa is asleep. He should not be disturbed.”
“A messenger to see him, my girl. Chilled to the bone, I’d say. Riding over the downs in the dead of night in the wind and cold. It must be important if he went to all this trouble. Should I let him in?”
The log caught fire and the room grew warmer. Eliza drew off her wrap and folded it across the chair. “Yes, I will speak to him.”
Fiona placed her hand over the brass knob and set her back against the door to allow entrance to a man dressed in the simple drab brown attire of a servant. He drew off his tricorn hat and gave Eliza a slight bow. A lock of brown hair fell over his broad forehead.
“Is he able to speak with me, Miss Eliza?” He glanced at the frail form asleep in the four-poster bed.
“My father is not well. It depends on who you are, why you’ve come, and for how long you intend to stay.”
“Name is John Travis. I’ve come with a letter from Mr. Langbourne with strict instructions to put it into your father’s hand and wait for his reply.”
“On a night like this? It is a wonder you were not blown off your horse, Mr. Travis. I do not think well of Mr. Langbourne for it. He must have paid you well.”
“Aye, he did. The wind is harsh tonight, to be sure. But I have a good horse, and Mr. Langbourne deemed my journey urgent. He has heard how sickly your father is. Everyone in the parish has.”
Knowing her father was not long for this world, Eliza went to his bedside and tucked in the coverlet. Tonight his breathing was labored, and when she touched his hands, they were cold as the chill wind.
Even in the bronze firelight, his face looked drawn and pale. His hair seemed to have gone white within such a short time, and his body smelled of sweat no matter how much she bathed him. He opened a pair of watery gray eyes and looked at her.
“Who is it, Eliza?”
“A man is here to speak to you, Papa. His name is John Travis. Should I send him away?”
Pressing his brows together, Reverend Bloome paused. Eliza waited patiently, knowing he needed a moment to think. Over several weeks, he had grown forgetful and confused, and relied more and more upon her to help him understand.
“I know no one by that name. Should I know him, Eliza?”
“I do believe you met him once or twice, but no, Papa. You do not need to know him. But he says he has a letter for you— from Mr. Langbourne.”
“Langbourne I do recall. Raise me against the pillows, Daughter.” He pushed back on his elbows with her help. “There, that is better. Bring him forward and leave us to speak alone.”
A shiver passed through her at the last two words. Why would he not want her to stay? What did a letter from Langbourne, a man she had barely spoken two words to, mean? But she did not need to have a conversation with him to know what he thought of her. Either in church, the marketplace, or at a gathering, he always seemed to find her, bow in greeting, and feast his eyes on her.
Once outside the door, she leaned her ear against it and listened. Muffled voices were all she could make out. Seconds later, Fiona, the woman who had nurtured her from the day of her mother’s passing, poked her head around the corner. The cap she wore looked white as snow in the candlelight. Fiona always kept her caps starched and clean, and her hazel eyes, set deep within a face round as an October moon, looked just as bright when she raised her brows at Eliza.
