Before the Scarlet Dawn (14 page)

When they crossed the bridge at the point closest to the river, Eliza leaned toward the window. He saw she had no fear as it swirled below. The quick rise and fall of her breathing caused the gold cross she wore to flash at her throat.

He wondered why he had still not fallen deeply in love with the woman behind the eyes, behind the flesh he so desired. What prevented him? What held him back from opening up his heart? The gentle curve of her mouth and the glint of her expression spoke of her kindness, her virtue, and her goodness, all things that thrived beneath the outward appearance. But her flesh meant more to him than the whole of her.

He stared, studying the inquisitive expression on her face as she admired the passing landscape. It was then he decided he had to make an effort.

A scarlet-clad footman assisted Eliza down. Eager and nervous, she gazed at the crowd of people that moved up the broad marble steps to the veranda lined with white portico columns. So much did the house resemble the Georgian manors of England that she smiled at the irony. They talked of breaking free from England, yet did not mind the architecture of Britain’s most prominent aristocrats.

Greeting guests by the door stood Virginia’s nobility. The Rhendons looked as regal as any blue-blooded couple Eliza had ever seen. Beside them stood a gentleman whose way of standing out in the crowd caught her immediate attention. His proud expression mirrored Hayward’s—yet not so handsomely. At least that is what Eliza told herself to stave off a quick flutter of the heart.

Hayward held his arm out to her, and she coiled hers through it and laid her gloved hand over his forearm. Her wide-brimmed hat shadowed her face. The ivory-colored ribbon that held it hung loose along her throat where her necklace dangled and sparkled. The gold cross pressed against her skin, and she thought how faith had brought her to this point—faith in God, faith in herself to be strong enough to carry out His plan for her life. She sensed she would need it tonight, and decided she would always wear the necklace to remind her of where she had been and where she was going.

In unison, heads turned. Women spoke to one another in whispers. They looked her up and down, judging her over a mere color, Eliza thought. Or was it over something else? And by the glances they gave her husband behind their painted fans, she knew they found him handsome. She was proud to be his wife, and admired how fine he looked in his new suit of clothes.

The breeze rustled the wisteria that grew along the lattice of the veranda. Her nerves were taut as they made the final step. Captain Rhendon offered a friendly hand to Hayward, and they shook. Hayward bowed to Mrs. Rhendon and kissed the top of her hand. He was gracious, having not become so much of a frontiersman that he had lost the courtly manner of an English gentleman.

As Hayward brought Eliza forward to introduce her, Amelia Rhendon looked down her long Grecian nose and measured her head to toe.

Assessing me, is she? Seeing if I am properly attired in the latest fashion? Oh, Lord, how shall I ever fit in with such wealthy people?

With grace, Eliza curtsyed. Captain Rhendon reached for her hand and grasped it. “It is a pleasure, Mrs. Morgan. My, you are as pretty as a peach, if you don’t mind me saying.”

His tone was kind, and she liked him. “Thank you for the compliment, sir.”

“You are welcome to more if your husband does not object.” With a jolly laugh, he turned to his wife. “Amelia, my dear, you have at last seen the elusive Mrs. Morgan. What do you think?”

Amelia arched her fine brows high. “Mrs. Morgan is the personification of what I imagine an Englishwoman to be. But I declare, is that the fashion in Britain these days, my dear, that a lady should wear such earthy colors this time of year? As you can see, the ladies present wear cooler shades.” Amelia swept out her hand to point out the crowd of maids and matrons.

Eliza smiled lightly. “I have not yet learned the customs in America, when it comes to dress.” She then looked at the ornate frame that surrounded the doorway. “Twin Oaks is beautiful, Mrs. Rhendon. It reminds me of home.”

“Which is where, exactly?” Amelia asked in her finest Southern drawl.

“Well, home is River Run. But Derbyshire before that.”

Amelia snapped open her fan. “As it was for our ancestors here in Virginia. But more specifically, Mrs. Morgan. Where were you born and raised? What are your family connections?”

“I am from the Hope Valley, ma’am. My father was a vicar, my mother a gentleman’s daughter.”

Eliza’s hostess raised her slim brows again. “A vicar, you say? How interesting.”

“If you please, Mrs. Rhendon, I would be grateful if you would educate me on the customs of His Majesty’s Colonies. I know so little, and . . .”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and heads turned. The gentle pressure of Hayward’s hand around Eliza’s fingers signaled she should say nothing more. Mortified, she felt heat color her cheeks.

However, the good-looking gentleman who leaned against the wall nearby smiled. He looked quite amused at Eliza’s comment, and fastened a pair of dark blue eyes upon her. So long did he stare that she grew agitated, all her muscles tensing.

Then she heard the words, “to Hades with King George.” A swift chill raced through her. She glanced at Mrs. Rhendon. “I . . . forgive me. I believe I have said something wrong, or may have spoken out of turn.”

“Your husband will explain,” said Amelia. “You will excuse me. I must attend to my other guests.” With a proud lift of her chin, she sashayed away.

Hayward leaned near Eliza’s ear. “You mustn’t refer to the Colonies as belonging to King George. As you can tell, the majority of the company here would prefer to hang him rather than kowtow to the inane monarch.”

Eliza placed her hand against her lips. How could she have made such a blunder, embarrassed him and offended her hostess? “I am sorry, Hayward. It was a mere slip of the tongue.”

“Take care of what you say from now on.” He turned from her, and soon they were separated. Convinced she had disappointed him, his departure grieved her.

Captain Rhendon patted her hand. “It will take some time to acquaint yourself with our ways.”

She lowered her head. “Thank you, sir. Whatever my husband’s politics are, I shall keep to those.”

“Very wise, and a sign of true devotion, ma’am.” Rhendon took her a few steps past the door and held his hand out to her. “Now come along. I wish to introduce you to someone.”

13

T
he gentleman whose face had caught her eye earlier, stood with arms folded and turned when Captain Rhendon hailed him. Eliza could not help but notice how broad his shoulders were. His hair, the blond color of a buckskin stallion’s coat, fell between his shoulder blades in a neat ponytail secured with a crepe ribbon. He wore a suit of buff linen, and riding boots. Hayward would never allow mud to remain on his boots like this man, Eliza thought.

“Halston, may I introduce Mrs. Eliza Morgan of River Run? She is newly come to our country from England and is in need of friends—she and her husband, whom you shall meet in a moment when he rejoins such a lovely wife. I believe you are close neighbors, on the other side of the river.”

Halston dropped his arms and bowed. His eyes locked onto hers.

“My young cousin, ma’am,” said Captain Rhendon. “Jeremy Halston. He knows more about horses than anyone I know— besides myself.”

Halston reached for her hand, then kissed it. “Your servant, ma’am.” Quick as she could, Eliza withdrew her fingers from his.

At that moment, Hayward returned to Eliza’s side, and he and Halston were introduced. “Halston recently acquired land on your side of the river, Mr. Morgan,” Captain Rhendon said, “and that fine blacksmith shop along the road. If I didn’t have a good smithy of my own, I would take my horses there to be shod.”

“I am familiar with Old Benjamin, sir.” Hayward directed his comment to Halston. “I hope you kept him on.”

Lifting his eyes away from Eliza, Halston looked over at Hayward. “He is too valuable to let go. His time of indenture has passed, but I was able to bribe him into staying with a yearly sum of fifteen pounds and an apprentice. I hope you will continue to avail yourself of Ben’s skills, sir.”

“Of course,” Hayward nodded.

A silence followed, and Eliza saw a spark of dislike grow between the two men, as if they had raised crossed rapiers between them. How stiff and cool Hayward had become. As for Halston, a look of challenge flared in his eyes.

Hayward set her hand on his left arm and withdrew with her through the door to a cavernous foyer, where twin staircases wound to the upper story. Two footmen, sentries whose eyes never met a guest’s and whose gloved hands were ready to open the door wider, flanked the ballroom doors.

Making their way amid the rustle of silks and a sea of quivering fans, Hayward brought Eliza to a chair beside a pair of open French doors. These led to a terrace that allowed the breeze to float indoors. The scent of roses from the garden reminded her of the rose vine that grew up the walls of the vicarage. She thought of her dear papa, felt the tinge of grief grip her, and forbade the careful smile that graced her lips to fade.

What would he think of her running off and marrying Hayward Morgan against his father’s wishes? What would he say if he knew how Hayward had broken his mother’s heart by leaving England, by wedding a girl below what she insisted he deserved? Would her papa share in her belief that her feet were set on this path by the Almighty?

Ah, but he would be proud I married for love, and be content that my needs are met by a husband of means.

Hayward left her to talk to Rhendon about
matters best left to men.
She knew what he meant—war, rebellion. Wives and husbands separated. Nevertheless, he promised to return shortly after a few pressing details were discussed that were on his mind. Feeling a bit lonely and out of place, she glanced over at Amelia and her bevy of ladies. Not a one acknowledged her. She might as well fade right into the walls. What she overheard nearby caused her to frown.

“Hayward Morgan could have had his pick of any unwedded woman in the room—in the whole of Virginia and Maryland for that matter.”

“He is so handsome. I am glad he has returned, even though he brought a wife back with him.”

“Yes, but was it necessary to go back to England to find a wife?”

“I saw her a moment ago on his arm. She is beautiful, and puts most of us to shame when it comes to our Southern good looks.”

“Is it true he had an understanding in England, with a lady of quality?”

“Rumor has it she rejected him, and out of desperation, and no doubt to quell embarrassment, he married a vicar’s daughter, not that a vicar’s daughter is any less than quality. But I imagine she does not stand up to the other lady socially.”

“I am not surprised he was jilted. So few upper-class Englishwomen would leave their comforts for River Run.”

“Hmm. A lack of fortitude, I would say. Well, we can at least give that to the Mrs. Morgan. She does not strike me as being snobbish, as I would have imagined.”

“But oh, that gown. It is not the fashion at all, and the neckline is too low.”

“Ladies.” Eliza heard Halston’s voice clearly above the others. “Mrs. Morgan is seated near. Perhaps you should ask her for yourselves all those nagging questions that are swimming in your pretty heads?”

In unison, four young women turned their heads in her direction. Eliza stood to face them. They curtsyed, and then each made her excuses. Halston remained where he was, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You must pardon their ill manners, Mrs. Morgan. They are only curious.”

“Thank you, Mr. Halston. You came to my rescue.”

He bowed. “It was my pleasure. Our ways must seem judgmental to you, and I am afraid they are.”

“Now that they have met me, I wonder what they are saying.”

“God is the only one who knows,” he said. “They are jealous, I can tell you that. Just look at them grouped together like clucking hens, their faces flushed and sweaty from the heat.”

The heat suddenly made her feel faint, and she drew in a breath. “It is quite hot, sir.”