Before the Scarlet Dawn

19





Weeks passed quietly at River Run. Bitter cold settled over the valley, though blue skies let rays of sunshine through the windows of the house. Stepping down the staircase, Eliza saw that the door to Hayward’s study stood open. She paused a moment and listened to him speak to Addison. His tone seemed serious and his words rehearsed.

“Nothing to worry about, sir. The cold cellar has enough venison to last through spring,” she heard Addison say. “And I’ve cut enough firewood to last the season through.”

“I doubt we shall see any harsh weather this winter,” Hayward said. “You’ll need to have Mrs. Morgan’s mare shod. She will give you the coin.”

“Old Ben does a fine job, sir. And Tom, he’s a hardworking lad. When Old Ben passes on, Mr. Halston will have no problem with Tom stepping into the old fellow’s shoes.”

“Well, it is too bad Halston’s blacksmiths are the only ones nearby. Otherwise I would take my business elsewhere.”

Her husband had said nothing out of the ordinary, except for his comment about Halston. She knew he did not like him, that whenever his name was mentioned a jealous glint shone in his eyes.

Addison spoke after a pause. “If you don’t mind me saying, sir, when Mr. Halston weds, a wife will tone down his forwardness, and she’ll be a good neighbor for your lady, sir.”

Hayward cleared his throat. “I should find my lady another servant. Someone young who could help her take care of the child. There are still plenty indentured in this country, so I should have no trouble.”

“Again, I beg your pardon, sir. But a lady’s maid should be of the lady’s choosing. At least that’s how it’s done in this part of the world.”

“Then I’ll leave it up to Mrs. Morgan. I wouldn’t want her out of step with the rest of her sex.”

Compelled to go into the study and speak to Hayward about this, Eliza made haste down the staircase. Addison strode out into the foyer, stopped when he saw her, and drew off his hat. He had a sorry look on his face, his eyes glancing left to right. Without a word, he squashed his hat on, bowed quickly, and left.

Eliza smoothed down the front of her gown, glad she was able to squeeze into it. The ribbons on her bodice were not pulled so tight as before, but that would change in time. She wore a day gown of dark green linsey, a kerchief of bleached linen fastened at her breast in a snug knot. Hayward had not approved of the fabric when first it arrived, saying it was for women of the lower class, but Eliza told him it was warm and practical for a lady living in the wilderness, far better than most had.

She laid her hand lightly against the door, and it drifted open. She wondered why he had not worn his working clothes that morn, his leather breeches and hunting shirt. Instead, he wore his dark navy coat, beige breeches, and black riding boots. His hair lay back in a ponytail secured with a strip of black taffeta.

“You look pretty this morning, Eliza. I will keep your image in my mind while I am gone.”

Gone? She looked at him with a start and hurried to him.

“Just for the day, I hope.”

“No.” He placed his hands on her arms. “Eliza . . .”

She blinked back tears, knowing what he meant to tell her. He was leaving. “You must have breakfast before you start the day’s business. Come, let us sit together.”

“I had something before you woke.”

“That had to be early.”

“It was.”

She lowered her eyes, dreading what she knew he’d say next. He dropped his hands and moved her to a chair. “Sit down, Eliza.” Slowly she lowered herself into the chair and fixed her eyes on him, as if she had to sear his face into her memory, for the chance he’d never return haunted her.

Hayward took hold of her hands and held them gently. “It is time I join the Maryland Patriots. I know how that must make you feel, but it is my duty, and my heart and mind have convicted me day and night. America is my country now, our country, and I cannot sit idly by, doing nothing. You understand?”

“But Darcy is barely a month old and . . .”

“There is nothing to worry over, Eliza. It should not be long that I will be away, perhaps a few months, but no more than a year.”

“A year?” she breathed out the words painfully and fought the tears pooling in her eyes. She laid her head against his breast, gathered the lapels of his coat in her hands, and held onto him. Beneath his waistcoat, she heard the beat of his heart and shut her eyes to take it in—to remember.

Hayward ran his hand over her hair and sighed. “I cannot bear your tears. I’ll not torture you or me a moment longer.” He kissed her forehead, then both her hands, and strode from the room and out the front door. With a low, desperate moan, Elisa raised to her mouth the hands he had just released and hurried after him. Cold hit her face when she stepped out onto the porch. The wind freshened, rustled through the bare limbs of the trees, and stirred the dead leaves that lay twisted and crumpled on the grass.

He is leaving me so soon, and with no warning!

She stood between the posts and watched him mount his horse. Stunned, she stood motionless, unable to find words to speak, something to say that would make him stay. “Can you not kiss your baby daughter farewell?” she finally said.

At once, he gathered the reins through his gloved hand and looked at her with pained eyes. “Kiss her for me, Eliza. Tell her every day her papa loves her. Goodbye. I shall write to you first chance when I reach Annapolis.”

He turned Omega and galloped off. Her hands clasped at her breast, she whispered, “God go with you, Hayward.”

Stronger blew the wind, colder and more relentless, louder and swelling in the forests, hushing the rush of the river beyond. Tears blurred her vision, and she allowed them to fall down her cheeks. Then the wind lay low, and she could make out the sound of Omega’s hooves passing over the dusty river road. The sound faded and silence sunk into her lonely heart, until she heard her baby girl crying upstairs.