Before the Scarlet Dawn (4 page)

Overcome, Eliza dropped to her knees beside the tidy bed and clutched the bedclothes in her hands. “I should not have gone out.” The ache, that she had not been with him when he died, shot through her.

A moan crawled up her throat, caught, and then the dam broke. It flowed from every pore, every corner of her soul. It tore, raked. Bitter tears welled in her eyes and fell down her cheeks. She gathered her father’s hand in hers, pressed her face against his fingers, and wept.

Through the following days the house seemed empty without Matthias Bloome. The tasks of settling her father’s passing were done in tears, but Eliza soon overcame them by drawing on an inner strength birthed from her faith. On the day of his burial, Langbourne sent Eliza a letter, urging her with passionate words to reconsider his proposal of marriage. It would save her from a poor life, he told her. For a moment, she did indeed consider it, but her heart won out. She’d rather live alone and poor than give herself to a man she did not love.

Two other letters arrived by courier an hour later.

Madam,

Accept my deepest sympathy, and that of my wife’s, on the passing of your father, my pastor these many years, a man dedicated to his flock and to the Word of God.

It is with regret, however, that I must inform you that you are required to vacate the vicarage within a fortnight in order to make room for the new minister, his wife, and children. Fiona Goodall is to retain her position as housekeeper, although I must say her work shall grow sevenfold. All furnishings, plate, and books are to remain, per our agreement when your father first came to us years ago.

In such a dire situation as this, I urge you to find employment in the village or on one of the farms. You may call upon my wife for letters of recommendation. She assures me she is able to arrange a position as a servant in one of the finer houses in our county.

Now that you are alone in the world, I expect your compliance in this matter, as well as in the matter, which concerns my nephew and his proposal of marriage—that you do not reconsider it. He is expected to marry someone of good breeding and standing. It is best you seek matrimony on more humble grounds.

Regards,

Edward Morgan—Havendale

Her face flushed with heat, Eliza lifted her eyes from the letter and stared hard out the window. The downs were green with early spring, and the sky as blue as the wild cornflowers that sprouted from the earth.

“Where is my spring, Lord? Why has life suddenly remained wintry and gray?” The letter quivered in her trembling hand. “No one told me it would come to this, that I would have to leave home so soon.”

Her hands shook as she broke the blood-red seal of the second letter and unfolded the page. Addressed to her father, it had come from her brother’s commanding officer. Stephen had fallen ill with scarlet fever. His life was over in a matter of days; his body laid to rest in the cemetery outside the walls of Fort Erie. Her brother, six years her senior, left home at the age of sixteen. Now at twenty-seven he was gone, and she at twenty-one was left with no relative in the world, or any hope of seeing him again.

Tears stung her eyes and she tossed the letters upon the bed. Heaving a breath, she stared down at them and struck her palm across her breast wanting to abate the heartache that had taken residence there. “Where am I to go? What am I to do?”

She paced the floor and tried to think. Her mind clouded with grief.
Papa. Stephen. Both gone.
Tears struggled for release. They burned and she blinked them back. Frustration rose and she clenched her hands tightly. The door drifted open, and Fiona poked her head around it.

“What’s wrong, my girl? This stumping to and fro is likely to wear out the rug.”

Eliza stood still and stared at the floor. “Stephen is dead.”

Fiona clapped her hand over her heart. “Oh, dear girl.”

“Scarlet fever. At Fort Erie—along the Niagara.”

Eliza wiped her eyes. “And there is more bad news. It’s in that horrible missive Mr. Morgan sent me, and not a moment to waste after Papa is in the ground. He sounds so sympathetic, but he has a heart of stone.”

Fiona stared at Eliza with worry—being much affected by the dreadful turn of events. “Oh, my heart aches for Stephen and that you have lost your brother. And you are right about Edward Morgan. The man is a heartless cad. What’s the letter say?”

“That I am to be gone in a fortnight in order to make room for the new vicar and his wife and children.” Her throat tightened, and she threw herself across the bed with her arms folded beneath her face.

“Ah, my dear,” Fiona said. “Do not cry.” She sat down and stroked Eliza’s hair. “How could he be so quick to put you out like this, after all these years, with your Papa not long gone? He could at least help you find suitable arrangements.”

Eliza lifted her head, locks falling over her eyes. “He told me to seek work on one of the farms or in the village, and that Mrs. Morgan would recommend me as a servant.”

“Has he no sympathy at all?”

“Obviously not. And he tells me to find a match on more
humble grounds
and made it plain he would not want me married to Langbourne. I am in agreement with him in that one thing. And there is more, Fiona. He wants you to remain here. Surely he is thinking someone needs to help the vicar’s wife with her brood of children.”

“I shall do nothing of the kind,” Fiona said as she patted Eliza’s shoulder. “My place is with you.”

“You mustn’t argue with him.”

Fiona’s eyes pooled and her cheeks turned bright red. “I will argue,” she said. “I will shout if I must.”

“But you have lived here since before I was born. This is your home. You are only saying that because of the promise you made to Papa.”

“A promise is a promise, and I intend to keep mine.” Fiona tossed her head back in defiance. “Mr. Morgan cannot force me to stay. Mind you, I’ve set aside a bit of money, and we shall fare just fine. Will that do for you?”

“I cannot take your money. I am to find employment. The chances of you finding a position in the same house as I are slim at best. Now do you see why you cannot get your hopes up?”

“I see your reason, my girl. But I won’t go back on my word for anything.”

Eliza took Fiona’s hand in hers. “We shall figure something out, with God’s help we shall. It is hard to imagine leaving the only home I have ever known. But if this is His will, then I must accept it.”

“Perhaps you should consider Mr. Langbourne, Eliza. He’d give you a fine house, a bountiful table, and pretty clothes. You’d never lack.”

For a moment, Eliza paused to consider Fiona’s advice. But she did not love Langbourne, nor did she wish to grow to love him. “It would be sinful of me, Fiona,” she said.

“How could that be?”

“It would be wrong to wed a man solely for my own comfort when I do not love him. And it would be unfair to Mr. Langbourne.”

Fiona sighed. “True enough. But sometimes a woman has to take what she can in a situation like this.”

Scooting off the bed, Eliza strode to the window. “Fiona,” she said. “Do you remember Hayward Morgan?”

“That rascal of a boy?” Fiona straightened the coverlet hastily with her palms. “Aye, I remember him—spoiled rotten and proud.”

“He has returned to Havendale.” Suddenly, Eliza’s despair lightened. Her heart seemed to settle to a calm rhythm, as a flicker of longing washed over her. She saw his face in her mind, his smile—the warmth of it perhaps only she could see. Yes, she saw good in him, and, instead of pride, drive and manly strength. She wanted him more than ever. Yet to have him—that seemed insurmountable, unless he changed his view and fell in love with her.

“I met him on the moor,” she said, determined to paint him in a different light. “Two men attempted to accost me, and he stopped them. They had come upon me, insulted me, and tried to pull me down off my horse. No sooner had I begun to smack them with the reins than he came riding to my rescue. He fired at them and they ran off like a pair of frightened jackrabbits.”

Fiona paused and placed her hands on her ample hips. “Gallant of him. But what does he have to do with anything?”

Eliza turned from the window. “The moment I laid eyes on him my heart soared.”

“I am not surprised. Last I saw him he had tremendously good looks.”

“It is more than his appearance that draws me to him. He said if I needed help, to come to Havendale. His mother might be able to give me a position. Surely she would help me if he asked.”

Stepping away, she threw open the doors of her clothes cabinet and drew out her best dress. A vivid blue, it fit snug against her waist, and the three-quarter-length sleeves hung in a cascade of cream-colored lace. After laying it across the back of the chair, she quickly untied the ribbons on her bodice and stepped out of her day dress. Fiona looked surprised and Eliza smiled.

“I am going to Havendale.”

A light dawned on Fiona’s face. “Oh, I see what you’re up to. You think he’d look on you if you come dressed so prettily?”

“Yes. Although I have viewed my beauty as a curse, and that men have only wanted me because of it, I will this one time use it to my advantage.”

“Is that right to do? To lure him in that way?”

“He will quickly see my inner self, do not fear. I mean for Mrs. Morgan to offer me a position. I will win her over. Then I shall be around Hayward more. It was no accident that we happened upon each other . . . in the way we did. I owe him my virtue, if not my life. He is unalterably attached to me.”

Fiona gasped. “He will not look on you as a prospective wife if you are reduced to being a servant in his father’s house.”

Eliza slipped a stocking on. “The fact he made mention of my station tells me he was considering me. His comment was to mask his attraction to me. It has happened before. God has given me the answer, Fiona. I shall win his heart. You’ll see.”

Fiona snatched the other stocking out of Eliza’s hand. “ ’Tis foolish to think so. You should not get your hopes so high.”

Eliza paused. Then she snatched back the stocking. “God knows the way through the wilderness. I think I know what I should do . . . or at least the first step I must take.”

“Such a plan may not work. Then what will you do? They’ll all be laughing at you for your efforts, and Mr. Langbourne will have naught to do with you afterwards.”

Eliza slipped her other stocking on, fastened it about her thigh, and then went to pull on her gown. “Oh, the ribbon on this bodice has come loose, and it is my best gown.” With a smile, she handed it to the bewildered Fiona. “Could you mend it, please, while I bathe?”

She had only seen Havendale in passing. Her father had been admitted on several occasions to minister to the family, but only when he was sent for, never of his own volition. As a child, Eliza remembered sitting outside the gates, chin in hand, staring at the old manor while she waited for her father to come out. It had not changed. Blond bricks made up its walls, and a lush green lawn lined with graceful trees and neatly trimmed boxwoods surrounded it. Slowly she rode her mare down the sandy lane with her eyes fixed on the glow of the candles set in two lower windows. A carriage stood outside the door, but company at Havendale would not prevent her from going on.