Before the Scarlet Dawn (21 page)

Never had she felt such bone-chilling cold. Snow had dampened her chemise, and she shook it before the fire. Then the wind rose again—this time sounding like it would crush down the walls and tear into every tree that surrounded them. Eliza froze with fear. The wind rushed over her, through her limbs to the tips of her fingers, leaving her cold and shivering. She hurried out the door into Darcy’s room for fear the storm would frighten her child. Amazed to find Darcy had slept through the tumult, Eliza drew the blanket closer to her daughter’s chin.

The fire in the corner hearth struggled against the force of air that raced down the flue. She set another log over the blaze of coals and tucked her wrap tighter about her shoulders. She sat in the chair near Darcy’s bed and listened to the relentless wind batter the house. The fire could not conquer the cold and the wind that sucked at the chimney.

By two in the morning, the storm had mounted into a blizzard. Snow blew sideways across the land, whirling in an unstoppable tide of hurricane-force gales so furious the trees bent. Limbs cracked, some at a distance, others close by. They snapped off and toppled to the ground. Horrific and chilling were the breaking of the trees and the moaning gales. Eliza went down on her knees beside Darcy’s bed and prayed while gripping the bedcovers tight in her fists.

A soft knock, and the door opened. Addison stood within the darkened entrance, his chest heaving, his greatcoat slathered and wet with snow. Fiona stood behind him, candlestick in hand, the amber flame showing on her face, her cap covering her hair, and a gray mantle thrown over her shoulders.

“Mistress,” Addison said. “I’ve secured the stable as best I could, and all the doors and shutters. I must ask that you and Miss Darcy retreat downstairs. The temperature is dropping so rapidly, and the wind blowing so fierce, we’ll not be able to keep the rooms warm even with fires burning in all the hearths.”

As he spoke, Eliza caught the fearful expression in his eyes. He coughed and she grew worried, for she had noticed a malaise had come over him the morning before. “You are not to go out again, Addison. Stay with us downstairs. Fiona, we will need tea and provisions.”

“Can’t stay in the kitchen, mistress.”

“Why not? It is the largest hearth in the house.” She pulled the blankets from her bed and handed them to Fiona.

“True, mistress. But its size lets more wind into the flue and it’ll be harder to keep the fire alight. The best is the sitting room.”

Eliza agreed. Addison stepped aside, and Eliza gently woke Darcy. She slipped woolen stockings over the child’s legs and put her warmest dress on her. Then they headed downstairs to their sanctuary.

In the sitting room, a fire glowed in the grate and battled the bitter chill that had laid siege on the house. Firelight shimmered across the floor and the opaque walls. A constant rush of wind deafened the ears against the crackling of the blaze. Eliza set Darcy down on the settee and laid a blanket over her. Addison banked the fire, his hands shaking with cold. Fiona returned from the kitchen with a basket full of provisions, including a tin of her tea and the copper kettle.

Eliza stepped across the used Turkish carpet Hayward had allowed her to buy from a passing peddler their first summer. Summer warmth—how she longed for it now as she shivered in the cold.

Anxious, she drew Darcy across her lap and held her close. She suddenly realized how old Addison looked. The first day she had arrived at River Run, his hair had shown no hint of silver. No longer robust as he once was, he stretched his gangly body before the fire and drew his greatcoat across him.

She’d let him sleep. And if the fire burned low, she would build it again.

“Oh, how the wind howls.” Her face contorted with worry, Fiona placed her hands over her cheeks. “Never in my life have I heard such wind. It does not stop. How long will the storm last?”

“I do not know. Let us hope it ends soon.” Eliza grabbed hold of Fiona’s hand. A blast of wind surged. It slammed against the house, shaking the walls and rattling the windows. “We must pray for God’s protection.” They huddled closer. “Father in Heaven, we are afraid. Comfort us. We are cold. Keep us warm and our fire burning. Watch over us. Keep us in the shelter of Your mighty wings . . .”

Fiona squeezed Eliza’s fingers. “It is written,” Eliza continued, “she is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet. Amen.”

The tempest raged as if it were a living, breathing entity with an invisible fist raised against their faith—to test it, crush it through fear. Eliza drew her daughter into the crook of her arm. The danger all around them sunk into her core, and she cried out silently to the One who could bring them through to a safe haven. You stilled the storm with one word, Lord, and it obeyed you. Still my heart. Calm my fear. Protect us . . .

Harrowing cold seeped through the walls and brushed over her face. She felt Darcy’s cheek. So cold. Gently she drew the blanket tighter over her child. And as the wind battered River Run, she feared for them all—especially Darcy.

21

E
liza drifted off to sleep and woke with a start. Between the storm’s moans, she heard Nell whinny and their only cow lowing inside the barn. Their awful cries of distress pierced her heart, and she bolted from the settee and hurried to the window. The shutters were locked tight, but she peered through a space where the wind had torn away the slates. Beyond the frosted glass, the snow whirled. The wind strengthened again and muffled the forlorn wailing of the animals.

Addison hauled himself up from the floor and grabbed his coat.

“You cannot go outside,” Eliza said. “Not in this. It is too dangerous.”

He wrapped his scarf tight around his neck. “Best I do, before this gets any worse and you lose your horse and milking cow. The snow is not so deep I can’t reach them.” He shivered, Eliza thought from the cold. Catching his breath, he laid his palm near his heart.

“What is wrong?” Eliza said, alarmed. “Are you ill? Have you pain?”

“ ’Tis a trifling sore muscle, that’s all.”

The icy draft outside the sitting room door rushed inside when Addison slipped out. Eliza gripped her arms against the cold and turned back to the window. Her eyes followed the orange star in Addison’s lantern and the spray of light that flickered from it across the thick haze of windswept snow. She pressed the palms of her hands against the sill for a closer look, and they grew slick. Wind whirled misty flakes across the glass, and Addison disappeared into a curtain of swirling white. He had made it into the structure, she trusted, a sign he could make it back.

She worried about her mare and the piebald heifer in the stall beside her. Darcy needed milk, and life at River Run would be difficult without a horse. As the fire in the hearth crackled, fatigue took hold of Eliza’s limbs. She continued to stare through the window, one anxious minute at a time. Soon the lantern appeared and its light grew stronger. A gust of wind swept down between the barn and the house. The lantern light swayed as the next monstrous gale bent the trees and blew clouds of snow through them.

Then the light vanished.

She waited with lips parted. Her breathing hurried. She fixed her eyes on the barn door. “Dear Lord, help Addison.”

Fiona rubbed her eyes. “What is it, my girl?”

“Addison. He went out to check on Nell and the cow. I told him not to go. But he said we could lose them if he did not. His lantern . . . the light has gone.”

“Do not fear. Likely the wind blew it out.”

Eliza pulled down the pewter lantern from off the mantle. From the fire, she set alight the wick inside it. Then she pulled on her leather boots and laced them hurriedly. “Stay with Darcy, Fiona. I will be back shortly.”

She caught the flood of concern that spread over Fiona’s face. Determined, she quickly moved into the hall. From the peg by the front door, she grabbed her cloak, drew it over her shoulders, fastened the cord to her hood, and tucked her heavy locks inside it. Picking up the lantern, she hurried through to the kitchen and pushed against the door until it opened enough for her to squeeze out. The cold snapped across her face and stung her eyes. Wind whipped her cloak tight around her legs.

Through the falling snow, Eliza saw dawn creep across the blanket of white. Blackened trees encrusted with blue ice, heavy with snow, bowed low. Windblown drifts banked the house to the windowsills. She glanced at the leaden sky, stunned at how rapidly it whirled in an ocean of snowflakes and clouds.

Drawing in a breath, she plunged onto the meager path Addison had carved out with his boots. Halfway to the barn she spotted him face down in the snow, the lantern toppled next to him. Calling out, Eliza hurried forward, her clothing gathering sticky snow.

She set her lantern down and managed to turn him over. “Addison!” She shook him. “Get up. You must get up.” She pulled at the lapels of his coat to make him rise. He opened his eyes and blinked up at her, his lashes coated with snow.

Upon hearing a man’s voice call to her, Eliza jerked her head. Through the haze a horse plowed through the snow toward her, its rider covered in a black greatcoat. She could see his eyes beneath the slouch hat he wore, above the dark scarf that covered his mouth and nose. He whipped his horse forward and drew down off the saddle. Without a word, the rider hoisted Addison as if he were weightless, flung Addison’s arm across his shoulder, and trudged toward the house. Eliza hurried behind him, the snow hugging her skirts and making them heavy. Passing him, she tugged at the door until it stood open enough to allow them inside.

She led him to the sitting room, and he lowered Addison into a chair. Fiona helped Addison with his coat and boots. Darcy ran to her mother and hugged her.

“It is all right, Darcy. This gentleman is here to help us.” She drew off her hood and stared into his eyes. He dragged off his hat and uncoiled his scarf. She drew in a breath when she saw it was Halston. “I thought you were a traveler seeking shelter.”

He bowed his head, and his pale locks fell over his eyes. “I am, ma’am. I had business west of here, and traveling home I was caught in the storm. I saw your lantern light in the distance and made way for it.”

What kind of business could have drawn him deeper into the wilderness? “I am glad you came when you did, Mr. Halston. Addison took pity on my poor mare and our cow when we heard their cries. It was too much for him.”

“They were half froze, mistress,” Addison said. “I put plenty of hay for bedding in their stalls and oats in their troughs.”

Halston drew near the fire and looked over at Addison. “Foolish to some, but nothing short of dutiful to others. If you do not mind, Mrs. Morgan, I would like to place my horse in your barn, out of the wind and cold.”

He placed his hat firmly on his head and left her standing in the middle of the room, her daughter peering at him with wondering eyes.

“The storm is weakening?” Fiona asked.

“Yes, praise God. It is almost over.”

Fiona rubbed Addison’s arms to warm him. “Addison is chilled to the bone. Let me get him to a room where I can get him under covers. We don’t need him falling ill.” Tugging, Fiona helped Addison to his feet, and he offered no protest. “The wind is low enough now. I can light a fire in the kitchen hearth.”

Eliza drew a blanket off the settee and took hold of Darcy’s hand. Down the chilly corridor they followed the slow-moving pair just ahead of them. Off the kitchen was a room wide enough for a single bed and a narrow table that held a candlestick and taper. They settled him in, and then Fiona lit a fire in the scullery grate. The room grew warm, as the fire’s fervor permeated the wall as easily as sunlight poured through a window.

“Why did you not tell me you were feeling poorly, Addison?” Eliza sat down on the bedside and tucked the blankets beneath his bristly chin. “I would have never let you go out to the barn if I had known.”

He looked at her with watery eyes. “I thought it were nothing.”

“Well, it is serious.” She touched his forehead. “You are feverish. Sleep all you can. Fiona and I will take care of you.”

She watched his eyes drift over to Darcy. She stood in the doorway, her finger in her mouth. “Addison shall be all right, little one,” Eliza told her. “Go with Fiona. She will make you something warm to eat.”

Fiona took Darcy’s hand. “I’ll fix a hearty stew for all of us. Miss Darcy would like that, wouldn’t you, child?”

Darcy smiled and blinked her eyes. “Yes, Fonna.” She could not quite form Fiona’s name over her tongue yet. “Mama? Papa home?”

Eliza lifted her in her arms and held her close. “I hope so, my darling. But I doubt it shall be today.”

Inside the kitchen, Eliza drew near the window, and through the slats she saw that Halston had taken his horse into the barn. Darcy peered out, too, and stretched out her hand to touch the frigid window glass. A moment later Halston stepped out of the barn door, shut it tight, and strode back to the house. His stride was strong, determined, and it left Eliza feeling weak—and a little afraid.