Before the Scarlet Dawn

13





The 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.”

“Why, you look cool to me, Mrs. Morgan.” He stood next to her as she lowered herself back into the chair. “I wonder. Did you inherit the deep color of your hair, those violet eyes, and your fine complexion from your mother?”

Eliza did not know what to say. Part of her was flattered. But the wife in her felt affronted he would be so brazen as to compliment her. “Flattery, Mr. Halston, is not becoming when a man directs it toward another man’s wife.”

“I agree. I shall restrict my comments to the weather and horses from now on so that we may be friends.”

“Thank you. Nevertheless, I was told I took after my mother.”

He creased his brow. “Told?”

“Yes. She has been long in Heaven, sir.” To be reminded of her loss stung, and she lowered her head. “My father recently joined her.”

“You believe in such a place?”

Surprised by his question, she looked up at him. “You do not?”

“I am not sure of anything, except the present.”

“Then I am sorry for you, sir. Those who believe are not like those who do not. Without faith, one has no hope in this world.”

“I recall my father saying faith is the substance of things hoped for . . .”

“The evidence of things not seen,” Eliza finished.

Halston smiled. “Indeed.”

“It is something to ponder, Mr. Halston.”

“Perhaps you’re right, and I should explore it further. If I call upon you—and your husband—we could converse on the subject.”

“You would be most welcome at River Run,” she said. “But are you not leaving to fight the British as are most of the men?”

“I’m unsure on that account as well.”

Hoping he would not think her too bold, Eliza made him a promise. “I shall pray for you this night, sir, that you are given the direction you need so that you are certain which course to take.”

He looked stunned and gazed at her with a smile that trembled over the corner of his mouth. His eyes were fixed on her, almost as if she were the only woman in the room. “You have just now helped me see the path I’ll take, Mrs. Morgan. Your faith works quickly.”

She shook her head. “I do not understand.”

“I will not be leaving. Not for a long while. I will remain on my land, even if they call me a loyalist and a coward.” He leaned down. “A man must protect the things he holds dear. He must hold his ground against all who stand in his way.”

A wave of bewilderment struck Eliza. Never had a man spoken to her with such freedom, except for Hayward. She thought him audacious, but wondered if this was the way men behaved in the Colonies. Was it acceptable to speak honestly and with such flattery between the sexes here? Nonetheless, his admission that he must protect the things he prized flustered her as she realized his subtle implication. He spoke in a hushed tone and with a hint of passion.

Halston pointed out a lady on the opposite side of the room. “I am afraid I have caught the eye of Miss Lee. There, you see? She calls me over with a tilt of her fan.”

She glanced over at Miss Lee, a petite young lady with cascades of blonde ringlets and too much rouge. On the final word, Halston bowed and stepped away.

From the French doors, a cool breeze tousled the hem of Eliza’s gown. It felt heavenly and chased the heat away. Hayward stepped out of a side door with Captain Rhendon and several other gentlemen, two dressed in militia blue. Lifting her chin, she gathered her skirts and proceeded forward.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, accepting her arm through his.

“I am lonely without you.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then drew her out onto the veranda to escape the closeness of the room.