Thorns in Eden and the Everlasting Mountains (23 page)

“I’ll
pray you find it, Black Hawk.”

The
throbbing in his leg caused his lungs to heave. Yet his mind turned to the town
nestled in the valley.

The
Belgian clock on the mantelpiece struck out the hour. The whirl of carriage
wheels could be heard coming to a halt in front of the house. Closing the book
she’d been reading, Rebecah stood and peered out the window. David’s partner,
Edward Deberton, had arrived. 

Drawing
back the curtain, she watched him step out of the carriage. How funereal he
looked in his all black attire. His Grecian nose gave him the look of a much
older man, and his eyes were dark brown and forlorn. He was a prosperous respected
lawyer, and what he called a misfortune, others called a privileged bachelor’s
life.

Dropping
the curtain back in place, she returned to the book she’d been reading,
The
Vicar of Wakefield
the story of a benevolent clergyman and his large family
facing devastating circumstances.

How
sad it was for Arabella Wilmont and George Primrose, the vicar’s eldest son,
that a sudden revelation of poverty prevented their wedding. Arabella’s father
and the vicar, who at the last moment discovered his misfortunate and felt it only
honest he should reveal the news to all, both insisted the match unsuitable.

Rebecah
knew how painful lost love felt.

Thinking
it would serve as a distraction, she attempted to finish the last paragraph in
the chapter she was reading, when she heard voices out in the hall. It would be
rude not to speak to Mr. Deberton and so she set the book aside once more and stepped
out into the foyer.

Morning
sun poured through the windows, cast a golden glow throughout that touched her face.
If no one had noticed a change in her, she felt it. Her heart was light as a
butterfly’s wing. Her eyes sparkled like sunshine on oceanic waters. At last
her smile had returned. 

When
she entered the sitting room, eyes turned. “Mr. Deberton, you remember my
cousin Rebecah Brent?” Lavinia drew Rebecah beside her. 

“I
do indeed. How are you, Miss Brent?”

“Very
well, thank you.”

“Rebecah
is visiting us with Lady Margaret Nash.”

Deberton
drew off his spectacles with long nimble fingers and tucked them away. “Yes,
David informed me of that fact.”

David
put his hands behind him. “I’ve asked Edward here because we have something to
discuss with you.”

She
smiled. “Business? What could you want to discuss with me?” 

Deberton
fixed his eyes on Rebecah. “A woman’s intuitiveness brings prudence to business
affairs.”

“How
so, sir, seeing we are forbidden to have a profession of our own?”

“You
participate in ways you are not aware of, dear lady. More men have been advised
by a look, a gesture, a sweep of the lashes.”

“Or
led astray by them.”

Lavinia
was startled by Rebecah’s comment. She reached for Rebecah’s hand and made her
sit beside her on the settee. “Rebecah,” she whispered. “You dare to cross
propriety?”

“Your
cousin meant no impropriety, Mrs. Harcourt,” said Deberton. “I completely agree
with her. ‘But she considereth a field and buyeth it.’ Is that not how the
scripture goes?”

“Yes,
Mr. Deberton,” Rebecah answered.

He
nodded his approval. “Well, may we disclose the nature of our business?”

“Please
do.”

Rebecah
pushed a stray lock away from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Perhaps
the action was more from nerves, for the anticipation had built and she
wondered what this business meant for her.

 “Rebecah,
I know your feelings toward Mr. Nash haven’t been favorable ones,” David said.

She
frowned. “So this
business
concerns him?”

“It
does. Bear with us.”

“I’m
not sure I want to.”

“Please understand it
is not my intention or Mr. Deberton’s to stir up your feelings. We will not
tread were we should not.”

She
raised her eyes, wistful at the mention of the man she still loved. “Forgive me
for sounding harsh. I’ll listen.”

“Mr.
Nash has left you a sum of seven hundred pounds.”

Deberton
leaned forward. “We want to advise that you accept it in good faith. Do not
allow it to collect cobwebs.”

She
stared at the floor in disbelief. “I fail to understand. Mr. Nash should have
known I would not accept it. What about his mother? What about Sir Rodney?”

“They
are well provided for through their own means, and through Mr. Nash.”

“But
how, David?  John Nash is not a rich man.”

“He
is wealthier than believed. He sold his land up north, a large estate of good
farmland. He came to us with his wishes. He did not want you to have the money
until he had gone, and only if you did not marry Lanley. He hoped it would get you
away from Endfield.”

She
pressed her fingers against her temples. “I’ve done that on my own.”

“Nevertheless
the money is yours and…”

“Did
he think I would not survive without his help?”

“He
did. However…”

“Oh,
David, you should have advised him differently.”

“He
was very firm, and nothing would have changed his mind. You see, he was afraid
if you did not marry Lanley, Sir Samuel would cast you out and you would be
impoverished.”

Lavinia
reached over and squeezed Rebecah’s hand. “And you know my father would have
done it.”

“Yes,
March told me she had overheard his plans to send me away. I knew he would
eventually.”

“I
am not surprised. Look how he has disowned me. Do you think he would treat you
any better?”

“How
can I accept it, Lavinia? I would feel kept.” She lowered her head. “You should
know the reasons.”

“Whatever
they are, Miss Brent, do not feel obligated to take the money,” said Deberton.

“I
disagree,” David said in a raised voice.

“I
have heard of his behavior, David. It is up to Miss Brent what to do. We must
allow her time to think this over.”

David
shifted on his feet. “The likelihood of seeing Mr. Nash again is slim, Rebecah.
He is in America. You are in England. Perhaps, this is his way of saying how
sorry he is, and if you do not wish to use it to live on, you could give it to
a charity.”

Settled
by his suggestion, she engaged his gaze. “Your advice is well taken. But I must
have time to think about it. I do have that option, do I not?”

“Of
course you do.” Deberton stood and pulled at the bottom edge of his waistcoat.
“We will not speak of it again until you’re ready. So for the moment, will you
accompany me into the garden? Let us see what flowers have bloomed.”

*  *  *

When
the evening’s light descended and bathed the land in a ruddy glow, a special
dinner was prepared, for in the morning Lady Margaret and Rebecah were to leave
for Standforth. Rebecah waited in the dining room with the others. Mr. Deberton
was late. When he entered, he stopped short by the door, bowed to Lady Margaret
and Lavinia, then looked over at Rebecah and inclined his head to her.

She
was dressed in a gown of silk linen. He complemented her on the color. “Such a
soothing shade of blue, Miss Brent. It heightens your complexion.”

Tiny
pearls were in her hair, hair that cascaded down her throat and shoulders in
ringlets. He pulled out a chair for her, and his hand lightly touched her back,
his fingertips brushing over her locks.

As
the ladies talked among themselves before the food was brought in, Deberton sat
next to David.

“There
sits an angel,” Rebecah heard him whisper.  “I’m indebted to you.”

From
the corner of her eyes, she saw David look at him curious.  “How so?”

“For
bringing me and the lady together.”

“You
imply we meant to match you up? Edward, it was just business that needed to be taken
care of, if it was taken care of at all. You should not have delayed her.”

“She
should not be pressured into taking money from a man who is neither her relation
nor her friend.”

David
curled his lip in a smile. She looked away, but heard him say, “She still loves
him, I believe.”

She
shut her eyes, knowing it were true, resigned to it so much so that her heart
ached. She made no reply to the conversation between the two men. She unfolded
her napkin and laid it on her lap, hoping Mr. Deberton would give more
attention to the food than to her. She did not dislike him, just his growing
attraction to her. Time and time again, he strove to impress her with his dry
wit, his educational credits, and his knowledge of worldly things. He talked
about his distaste for politics and religion. The law was all that mattered.

“I
so appreciate a good meal in the company of beautiful ladies.” Deberton smiled.

Lady
Margaret inclined her head. “I’m sure you would appreciate a hearty meal with
or without our company. But we thank you for your compliment.” 

“You
assumption is correct, my lady. But the absence of a soft hand and a sweet
voice would make for a very dull evening.”

David
tasted the soup and set the spoon down. “I never knew you felt that way,
Edward. You should have been a poet.”

“A
bachelor’s life is a lonely one, my friend, and it brings out the bard in a man.
At least I’ve a good cook in my house.”

Everyone
laughed at his comment, except Rebecah. She moved the spoon back and forth in
her bowl. She had no appetite.

“Rebecah
is lost in thought tonight, Mr. Deberton.” Lady Margaret looked kindly on her
charge. “You must excuse her.”

Deberton
looked embarrassed. “Mine is but dull conversation, my lady. I’m sorry if I’ve
bored you, Miss Brent.”

She
glanced at him with a slight smile. “I was listening, Mr. Deberton. You were
saying something about London?”

“I
was saying the poor houses are overflowing. As a last resort, people have fled
to the Colonies. Once they get there they find they must endure more
suffering.”

“Do
you find fault in leaving?” She spoke with soft care and challenged him with
grace. She did not want to show her private feelings for his comment.

Deberton
drank his wine. “I cannot say I do. But I’ve mixed feelings.”

“Many
do, Edward. That’s the problem.” David leaned back in his chair. “No one can
make up their minds one way or the other, whether over love or marriage,
politics or religion. We have Tories on one side of the fence and Whigs on the
other waiting to duke it out.”

Deberton
mashed a boiled potato with his fork.  “If we go to war, then we shall be
fighting the lowest of England’s castaways. The majority are or were indentured
servants and from lower class families. Sons and daughters of Liberty they call
themselves. Patriots. It’s folly and will quickly end.”

Lady
Margaret looked into the flame of the candle nearest her. “I have a stepson in
America, Mr. Deberton.”

Deberton
shifted in his seat. “My apology, my lady. I had forgotten.”

 “Jack
is content as a landed gentleman and is prospering. His father and I are quite
proud of him. He told us the land is beautiful there.”

“So
I’ve heard.” Deberton smiled, trying to smooth over his words. He tuned to
Rebecah. “I hope you never go to America, Miss Brent. It’s a dangerous place
for a woman.”

“Danger
exists everywhere, sir.”

“But
it’s a wilderness. Life is hard there, so I hear.”

“Life
is hard no matter where you live, Mr. Deberton.”

When
the meal concluded, the ladies left for the drawing room, leaving the men to
their cigars and port. The evening past quietly. Rebecah read aloud by the
fireside, Lavinia dozing in the chair across from her, and Lady Margaret
listening. Soon the clock in the hall counted out midnight and everyone retired
for the night.

Rebecah
lay wide-awake. Drawing her arms over her head, she studied the patterns on the
ceiling, shadows of dark hues moving in gentle unison from the willow tree
outside. A full moon glowed bright that night. Its light dusted the room.

She
recalled a night, not long ago at Endfield when she stood beneath the trees
hurt and shaken. He was kind then. Her heart pounded and ached with missing
him. She felt lonely and desperate and wondered how life would have been if she
had forgiven and gone with him to Maryland. She would be with him this moment,
lying in his arms as his wife in his house.

The
look in his face and the pain in his eyes, she could not forget. He asked if
she were willing to throw their love away based on an accusation. If he had not
caused her father’s demise was it right he should pay for it? Should she be
cheated? 

She
slipped out of bed, sat in the window seat, and pondered how many miles of
ocean and land separated them.

*  *  *

Downstairs
Mr. Deberton sat alone by the fire in the library. On the table beside him sat
an empty glass and the newspaper he’d been reading. With rebellion rising to a
fevered pitch and soon to explode in America, she could not possibly consider
going there. But he knew people had done foolish things for love. His hand
trembled as he loosened his neckcloth. Would she have him? He considered the
possibility. His money and position made up for what he did not possess in
looks. She would be imprudent to turn him down.

He
stood and headed upstairs. Intending to go to his room, he stopped short when
he saw a shaft of light coming from beneath Rebecah’s door. So the angel did
not sleep either. Gathering his courage, he rapped on her door and waited for
her to open it. He felt his heart leap at the sight of her. She held her candle
and the glow touched her face and made her eyes sparkle.

“Mr.
Deberton. Is something wrong?”