Before the Scarlet Dawn

14





A chestnut horse pounded down the lane at a brisk gallop, kicking up clods of dirt beneath its hooves. Everyone on the veranda craned their necks and looked in its direction. A dusty Express Rider on its back yanked on the reins, brought the steed skidding to a halt below the veranda stairs, leapt to the ground, and bounded up the steps. Catching his breath, he drew off his slouch hat, his brow studded with beads of sweat.

“I bring word from the North, gentlemen. Heralds of liberty are passing the news through the towns and plantations. We’ve had our first major fight with the British.”

Captain Rhendon motioned to one of his finely dressed servants. “Samuel, bring this man a mug of water, and have Lily fix him a plate of food.”

“I am grateful for that, sir. It has been a long ride. You’re Captain Rhendon?”

“I am.” Eliza noticed how proudly Captain Rhendon raised his head, as if he knew what was coming next.

“I have a packet for you, from Mr. Lee in Philadelphia.”

“My uncle!” shouted Miss Lee and shouldered her way through the crowd to stand beside Mrs. Rhendon.

“Where and when did the fighting start, lad?” said Captain Rhendon. “Give us all the details you can.”

“Boston. Breed’s Hill.” He gulped down water from the pewter cup handed him and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “Our men were attacked. British soldiers stormed the hill. The order on our side—not to fire until we see the whites of their eyes.”

A gasp circled around the crowd. Eliza glanced at the faces of the gentlemen. They were stiff with anger, their eyes riveted upon the messenger. She looked at Hayward and saw a muscle in his jaw flex. She squeezed his hand.

“The Patriots let loose a volley of musket fire when the Redcoats got within fifteen yards. Once our boys ran out of ammunition—with only their bayonets and stones to defend themselves—the Brits took the hill. But they lost half their force—in all over two hundred killed and eight hundred wounded.”

Hayward took a step forward. “And the Patriots?”

“One hundred and forty killed, sir, including General Warren. You’ll find the details written down inside the packet, Mr. Rhendon.”

The news distressed Eliza, that those of her homeland had fallen along with the Americans, her new countrymen; and to sense her husband’s fury rise caused her heart to ache. All doubt vanished. He’d certainly be leaving her to fight for the Glorious Cause.

“General Washington has taken command of the Continental Army,” the messenger went on. “We have rallied seventeen thousand men.”

“Then the struggle for our liberty is on!” shouted one man. Others followed, and there boiled over a great hubbub of talk.

Halston stepped to the rail of the terrace to be seen. “Gentlemen, we must be calm and not rush off without careful thought. Captain Rhendon, you understand how brutal war can be. You served under Braddock. You saw things no man should have to see. Do you not agree we should persuade our leaders to use more diplomatic measures before engaging in a bloody conflict that is sure to bring great suffering to our country?”

“What good does diplomacy do when we are up against tyranny?” Hayward said, raising his voice above the others. Eliza heard him say beneath his breath, “coward.”

The Express Rider set his plate of food aside and raised his arms to calm the crowd. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. Congress has sent the King a petition—an olive branch which expresses hope for reconciliation.”

“One last attempt at diplomacy?” one mocked.

“Aye, and the King will trample it under his boot heels,” said another.

“God bless our brave patriots!” went round.

Hayward broke away from Eliza and stood beside the rider. “I was born and bred in England by a father loyal to his king and country. I left to build a new life with my wife, and shudder to think of our children living under a monarch’s rule. His power will overtake us unless we fight and win our independence. If it means bloodshed, then so be it. Future generations will thank us.”

He continued on, speaking with such conviction that it sent chills racing up her spine. Eliza had never heard him speak with such authority, and it almost frightened her to think where his convictions might lead him, where they might leave her. A widow in the wilderness? No, I cannot consider it to ever be so.

The messenger squashed his hat back on. “Be assured, good men, the Delegates have no intention of staying under the power of a tyrant. They will stand their ground if the King dashes all hope of foregoing a war. God bless our Glorious Cause.”

With a nod, he touched the brim of his hat and bid them farewell. Shoving his boot into the stirrup, he climbed back in the saddle, spurred his horse, and raced off. With excitement surging through her, Eliza watched the cloud of rust-colored dust rise behind his horse’s hooves. He was on to another village, another plantation, to spread the news. Some of the solemn crowd drifted back inside. Others lingered outside.

Eliza looked up at Hayward as he ran his hand slowly down her forearm. “This news is not good news. Let us go home.”

A lady, who had earlier stared with disapproval at Eliza’s gown, approached them. She slipped her hand into the crook of Hayward’s arm, drawing close as if she were a moth to flame. The rice powder applied to her face creased with her smile.

“You have not danced the whole evening, Mr. Morgan. There is talk, you know. For you left your wife sitting all alone to fend off the young men of our party.”

Hayward lifted his eyes from her and glanced at Eliza. “Let them gossip, Miss Stapleton. It is what women do best.”

Laughing, Miss Stapleton tapped his chest lightly with the tip of her fan. “Such an insulting rogue. What do you expect?”

“For people to mind their own business.”

“But what if there is something you should be warned of? Isn’t that important?”

“If you have something important to say, then say it quickly.”

Eliza struggled to find the words to disarm her husband and stop any further intrusions from Miss Stapleton. Chagrined at Hayward’s rude demeanor, she attempted to draw him away. But Miss Stapleton kept step with them.

“It concerns Mr. Halston,” she said. “You may not know this, but he chases women like a fox chases rabbits, and he cares not whether they are married. Mrs. Morgan, you must be careful. Halston was much too liberal with his compliments toward you.”

Hayward fumed inwardly. Eliza knew this, for while Miss Stapleton spoke she felt his body stiffen beside her.

“I heard him praise the color of your hair and eyes. And once, he drew so close that he whispered in your ear. My friends and I saw you blush.” Miss Stapleton wagged a finger at Eliza and giggled. “You must beware of Halston. He purports himself to be a man of high Christian morals, but his actions speak otherwise.”

Not able to help herself, Eliza heaved a breath and bit down on her tongue to hold back what she wanted to say. No. She could not embarrass her husband by reprimanding Miss Busybody.

Miss Stapleton cocked her head to one side. “You are new to our country. It is not your fault he would be so infatuated.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hayward strode across the room, through the weave of dance partners, to where Halston stood with his back turned. Eliza’s heart went up into her throat. Hayward clapped his hand over Halston’s shoulder. Halston turned, and their eyes locked.

“Oh, perhaps I said too much.” Miss Stapleton said.

“Far too much, ma’am.” Eliza went forward, her head swimming with what to do to prevent a confrontation that could result in disaster. As she drew closer, she met Halston’s eyes momentarily and she made sure to scowl at him.

Halston gestured toward Eliza. “Does your wife trail behind you in most instances, sir? Why, she should be hanging on your arm. If she were mine, I’d not allow her to leave my side. I’d be showing her off to every man in the room, inciting their envy.”

Hayward flexed his fists at his side. “You have taken liberties with her that I will not stand for.”

Halston’s expression remained calm and reserved. “Neither by word nor deed did I say or do anything that was not honorable.”

“It has widely spread that you did. I forbid you to speak to my wife again.”

Halston looked him straight in the eyes. “Take care, sir. Some women welcome the attention of other men, if neglected.”

With her temples pounding, Eliza reached for her husband’s hand. But before she could grasp it, Hayward snatched Halston by his collar and yanked him forward. “You know nothing of my wife.” Then he released him. Halston’s face turned scarlet, and he set his mouth firm.

Without delay, Hayward took hold of Eliza’s arm and strode with her out of the ballroom. They went down the broad stairs to their carriage. She climbed inside and leaned toward him before he shut the door. “Please do not be angry.”

“I am not angry with you. But you should not have let him speak to you for so long. Everyone, it seems, noticed.”

“I should have been more guarded.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“But you had important matters to discuss with the gentlemen. And then . . .”

“Yes, word came of the fighting.”

Her heart ached. “Come sit beside me.” Beside her now, he put his arm around her shoulders. Her eyes filled as she absorbed this show of affection. Her prayers were answered, she hoped, that he loved her—finally. Or had it been there all along? “How will I do without you, my love?”

Sighing, Hayward drew her close. “We may be separated by war for a time. But nothing shall come between us.”

In each other’s arms, they sunk back against the seat, into the corner sheltered from the fading sunlight. As the carriage rolled on, a mockingbird’s song echoed through the trees, and the scent of dusty leaves rose out of the forest. Eliza wondered if it was the roar of the rapids in the river she heard? Or was it the cry of her soul that had been borne on the wind?