Surrender the Wind (13 page)

“I appreciate the offer, Lady Anna, but I believe your daughter needs more rest and less excitement.”

Juleah glanced over her shoulder at him. Her mother gently drew her inside. She smiled lightly at him and was gone.

Seth inclined his head to Sir Henry, who gave him a swift salute. After a few congenial words, he remounted Jupiter and turned him around into the road. At a hard gallop he went, with longing raging in his heart.

S
eth swung the sickle and violently sliced through tall grass and tough weeds. Just when he thought he was safe from the wiles of a woman, Juleah invaded his dreams, raced through his mind every waking moment, and disrupted his appetite.

His muscles ached. He tossed down the sickle and drew in a breath. Sweat soaked his shirt and it clung to his chest. The cool breezes of autumn mingled with it and caused him to shiver.

Placing his hand above his eyes, he looked out across the fields to the manor. Proud of what he had accomplished, he smiled. A man could do much when a woman captured his heart. In order to work off his frustration he had torn down ivy, repaired cracks in the bricks and the stone walls, and cleared out thickets of dead wood.

Will flopped down on a heap of grass and wiped the sweat off his brow with a dirty rag.

“Time to quit,” Seth told him. “I’ll ask Claire to make us a huge supper. We both deserve it.”

Will squinted up at him. “I’ll welcome a hearty meal, sir. Hard work's no stranger to this lad and whips up an appetite. But it's odd for me to work alongside you.”

Laughing, Seth picked up the sickle and walked on. “Hard work is good for every man, no matter his station.”

Will heaved himself up. “That may be, sir, but it ain’t expected of squires or lords.”

After supper and a thorough washing, Seth decided to swallow his pride and ride down to Henry Chase. He took care to wear his best suit of clothes, a dark blue coat with matching breeches. He had forgone shaving for days after Juleah left. Now his face was smooth.

His horse trotted beneath a sky that sparkled like a prism of color. Shreds of white clouds spread over a pale blue sky, and patches of brown leaves swished over the road. He spied a traveling coach rolling toward him and lifted his hand. The driver pulled rein. Juleah put her head out the window. A sad smile moved across her lips.

Seth approached her with all his powers gathered, calm and determined. “You are well?” He fixed his eyes upon hers, watched her breast rise and fall.

“Yes. Are you?” She struggled to button her left glove. Her wide-brimmed hat, tipped to one side, shadowed her left cheek, while daylight touched the right.

“I’ve not been myself since you left.” He hoped she could see the pain in his eyes.

She did look concerned. “Your wound, is that it?”

“It is not my wound.
That
has healed.” He nudged the horse with his knees and moved closer to the window. “I was on my way to see you. We should talk.”

“I’m afraid I cannot delay.”

He swallowed hard at her answer. Or it may have been how her eyes caught the light and sparkled. “Don’t you think it is important we come to an understanding?”

A moment's pause and she looked at him with loving eyes. “I cannot wait,” she said softly, and lowered her gaze. “I am on my way north to visit my aunt. She is not well and is expecting me.”

“Then I’ll ride alongside.”

“Please, do not.” Juleah fastened her hand over the window frame. “Besides, it is too far. Aunt Issy lives in Congleton, in Cheshire, more than two hundred miles away.”

Running!
He frowned.

“How long shall you be gone?”

“A month, perhaps longer.”

“You’re leaving without saying anything to me? Did you think it would make any difference?”

Her gaze, full of sadness, turned away. “I cannot explain.” She leaned outside the window. “Driver, move on.”

“No, driver. Stay as you are,” Seth ordered. He looked back at Juleah. “Avoid me if you must, but do not be a stranger to my sister.”

“I will write to her every day. Now, I must be on my way.” She drew back inside the security of the coach, her face hidden.

Seth backed his horse away.

The driver snapped the reins and the horses plodded on. He wanted to hurry after her, fling open the coach door, and pull her out and into his arms. But it would look foolish. Instead, he turned his horse and watched the coach disappear down the shady road. He’d wait—and hope she would come back to him.

Juleah reached her destination three days later. She peered out of the coach window and saw Little Moreton Hall. On a
plain of green grass, its black and white walls look subdued under a gray sky. Its crooked chimney puffed a bellow of smoke into the air, and Juleah thought of the hearth fires that she’d welcome at her aunt's home. Four more miles down the road, she leaned out to observe the bleak country house before her. It was a grand residence of two stories, made of gray wintry stone. Five years had drifted by since she had last seen her aunt. Still the house was silent and lonely, just as she remembered

The housemaid escorted her through the door to a sitting room cluttered with glossy dark furniture. In a high-backed chair sat Juleah's elderly kinswoman. Upon her lap was an orange cat. The dimness of the room could not conceal the wrinkles on her face, which were more plentiful than Juleah recalled. It came as no surprise that her aunt wore the same style of clothing she wore ten years ago, black taffeta gown, lace cap and shawl, black lace gloves. She was asleep, and the housemaid, a wisp of a woman no more than five feet tall, touched Issy on the shoulder.

Startled, the old woman's eyes shot open. “What do you mean? You wish to frighten me to death?” Aunt Issy, her name shortened from Isadora, shuddered in her chair. The maid apologized and pointed to Juleah.

“Hello, Aunt Issy. It is I, Juleah.”

“My niece?” Issy shifted in her chair. Taffeta crunched against chintz. Her gray eyes stared at Juleah in disbelief. “You appear nothing like her. Come closer and let me have a look.”

Juleah did as she was bid. Issy picked up her eyeglasses and looked her up and then down. Soon her scowl turned into a delicate smile. “On my soul, it is you. Take off your hat and gloves. Lay them aside, then come kiss my cheek.”

With a gentle smile, Juleah untied the ribbon under her chin, took off her hat and gloves and handed them to the
maid. She walked over to her aunt, leaned down, and kissed the wrinkled cheek, the skin soft, thin as oiled paper, scented with rosewater and rice powder.

“You look well, Aunt.”

“You mean to flatter me. If you speak of my disposition, I agree. I have not changed that in the least. But in body? Thin and gaunt is what I am. Old.”

“Only by a few years.”

“ ’Tis long enough, though it seems like yesterday I last saw you. Your mother agreed to allow you to stay the winter?”

“Yes, but no longer, I am afraid. She was remiss to have me away through Christmas, but did not want you to be so lonely. You know it is only a week away.”

“Indeed, I know of it. We shall attend church and not make a fuss … have a goose for supper. Perhaps invite a few neighbors.”

Juleah lifted her brows. “It would do the house good to have some holly about.”

Issy pressed her lips together in a crooked smile. “Do as you wish, girl. How are your parents?”

“Well. They send you their love.”

“And your brother and sister?”

“They are also well. I’ve brought a letter from Mother.”

“Give it to me later.” Issy waved the note away from Juleah's hand. “I am glad you’ve come. Your mother said you needed time away. I imagine it is over a man.”

Juleah smiled lightly. “Is that what she told you?”

“Not in those exact words.”

“She worries over me.”

“And why shouldn’t she?” Issy's eyes enlarged. “Young women these days read too many novels. I hope you have not read that outrageous novel by Burney.”

“You mean
Evelina?”

“Yes! That is the one.” Issy shook her head and clicked her tongue. “So called
The History of a Young Lady's Entrance Into the World
. Bah.”

“I admit I am guilty of it, and without shame.”

Issy lifted a hooked finger and shook it. “Books like that give a young woman wrong ideas, not what the real world is about. They lead to disappointment. You’ll find no such books in this house. You don’t draw silhouettes do you?”

“No, but I would like to learn.”

“They are a waste of time.”

“May I read to you in the evenings?” Juleah inquired. “From a book of your choosing?”

“I suppose that would be acceptable. I prefer Shakespeare and the Bible.”

It took some time, but Issy stood from her chair. Her cat jumped down and curled up near the fire. Issy was the same height as Juleah but thin. Her clothes hung loose and shapeless.

That evening, while they dined, Juleah could not help but notice how little her aunt ate. Perhaps, she would eat more if the food were better. Boiled fish and bland stewed apples were not the most enticing of foods.

“I do not believe in hearty conversation at evening meals, Juleah.” Issy picked up her fork and pushed the food around on her plate. “It is bad for the digestion—puts off sleep.”

With their meal concluded, Issy retired and left Juleah alone with her thoughts. For a time, she sat at the table that faced the window, glad the curtains were left open. Moonlight played over the lawn. The clock ticked away in the hall, seconds passed, never to be retrieved. The dishes had been removed,
but the scent of the fish lingered, along with the cedar fire that burned low in the hearth.

She stood and loneliness gripped her. She wished to deny it, wanted to suppress the feelings, her longing for Seth. Pressing her hands against the table, her throat tightened and a sob escaped her lips. She could bear it no longer and retreated upstairs to her room.

When she opened the door, cold smacked her in the face. The fire in the hearth burned low, and her hands trembled from the cold. She stirred the coals, and soon the room glowed in an amber light.

The bed was old with a worn quilt. In the corner sat a dressing table and an ironstone bowl and pitcher. That was all there was to it.

When she woke in the morning, her feet and hands were frozen. The fire had gone out during the night. Wrapped in the quilt that she drew over her shoulders, Juleah swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floorboards were as cold as blocks of ice when her feet touched them. She hurried over to the clothes cupboard, slipped on a pair of wool stockings, and finished dressing.

At breakfast, her aunt eyed her from the other end of the table. “You mustn’t flee from your troubles,” she told Juleah, while she dipped her spoon into her plate. “Running away will add to them.”

“I have not said I am running away, Aunt.”

“No, you have not. But I know just the same.” And she went on to eat her boiled egg in silence.

Weeks drifted by slowly. Sir Chester Bottomly rode over to the house from his estate four times in one week. He was older than Juleah, talkative, and the stoutest man she had ever seen. He had great whiskers along his jaw that he fluffed with his fingers. Then came two other gentlemen Aunt Issy had extended invitations to—a wealthy banker who smelled of tobacco and an untidy merchant with a lord's title, who was too thin and too pale to catch any woman's eye. All were bores to Juleah, their attentions insincere. They sought a wife, and she hated how they all wanted her.

Her aunt grew frustrated by Juleah's indifference. She summoned her to her chamber one night in the fourth week of her stay, before drifting off to sleep. Earlier in the day, snow had fallen, covered the ground, spread over trees, and deepened the chill of the house. Drifts lay against the foundation and the Roman walls in the fields. The landscape lay white, dotted with the bare blackness of trees. The fire in the hearth crackled and hissed. Warmth reached out in waves that quivered against the floor of the bedchamber.

Issy sat up in bed with a heap of bedclothes over her. She glanced up from her Bible when Juleah entered the room. “Why are you not more attentive to the gentlemen that visit this house, Juleah?”