Before the Scarlet Dawn

29





An inn stood alongside the river road, where a good woman lived with her children and her innkeeper husband. Hayward put Darcy in her charge, while he drowned his sorrow—over pints of ale—for two days.

He sat in a corner of the room, sunlight warming his flesh but not his soul. If only he could strike something, to expel the pain. The first time he had seen Eliza after his return to Havendale, she had stole his heart and soul. He could finally admit it. He’d resisted her, shunned her, and driven his feelings deep. But her willingness to give up everything for him caused his love for her to grow. He had given up his inheritance for her, had left England to begin a new life with her in the Colonies. When war had separated them, he had been in agony, but strong enough to keep her from knowing it.

They had been swept away by love, vowed to live and die for it. Never in his widest imaginings had he ever thought anything like this could happen. He wished he had seen the possibility when he saw the way Halston looked at his wife.

Though he still loved her, he could not shake the hatred he now felt. How could he forgive and forget, and move on without looking back? Rage flooded his being, and he steeled himself. He wrestled with God all that day and into the night.

He that is without sin let him cast the first stone. Forgive and you will be forgiven.

“How can I forgive her?” He buried his head in his hands.

Later, when all were abed, the innkeeper knocked upon Hayward’s door and handed him a letter. His hands shook as he opened it; there he saw his wife’s name, and stains from her teardrops. She said she loved him, begged his forgiveness, and pleaded for him to return with Darcy. If he did not come home, she promised her broken heart would be the death of her.

“A woman waits outside on the porch, Mr. Morgan,” said the innkeeper. “I expect she needs an answer from you.”

Hayward nodded and went to pull on his boots. He looked over at his daughter as she slept soundly beneath the window. He convinced himself he was in the right for separating her from Eliza. What had Darcy done to deserve such a mother? How could he allow Eliza near her again, and risk her growing up tainted by her mother’s immorality?

Outside, he found Fiona sitting on the top step with her chin cupped in her hand and her foot tapping away on the wood plank. She looked up at him, and her aging eyes caught the light from the lamp that hung near the door. His shadow fell over her, and she stood.

“You were not afraid to travel the road at night, I see.”

“Only when the owls hooted at me and I saw their eyes within the trees. The moon is strong and the road well marked. I had to come. It was my duty.”

He shrugged. “To me or to Eliza?”

“To my girl, of course. It is urgent I speak with you.”

“You should have sent Sarah.”

“No. I am closest to Eliza, and you need to hear this from me.”

“Go home. Tell her no amount of begging will change my mind.” He turned to leave.

“She’s been crying since you left. Refuses to eat or drink.”

Arrested by the urgency in Fiona’s voice, he hesitated. “I imagine so, but that is to be expected. Still, it won’t change what has happened.”

Fiona dared to touch his sleeve with her fingertips. “She loves you, and her heart is crushed. I saw how broken she was the day Reverend Hopewell came to River Run with news you were dead. She was out of her mind with grief. If anyone is to blame, it is the man who told your half brother you had been hung. Such a lie forged out of greed for a few coins and hate for the Patriots has caused many to suffer. And then there is Darcy. You cannot take Darcy away from her mother. You must consider how much that will hurt the child, and what it may do to her future.”

Hayward felt his jaw tighten, along with his fists. “I can do as I wish. It is not your place to give me your opinion on anything.”

Instantly, Fiona set her mouth and put her hands firmly on her hips. “Is that so?”

“Yes that is so, and you will mind your tongue, woman.”

She shot him a fiery glare. “I will, but you know what is in my mind to say. You just don’t want to hear it because it convicts you.” She lifted her chin and swung away from him. “She will be dead in a day or so, then you will be rid of her like you want.” She walked down the steps to the mare.

Hayward followed her. Gritting his teeth, he turned her around to meet him. “Do you believe that? Most likely it is all a pretense to bring me back.”

“When a woman’s heart has been broken, it can lead to her end. Will you forgive her?” A cloud passed over the moon, and the night deepened. The wind rose and thrashed through the trees, causing Fiona to shiver.

Hayward stood firm, unmoved by her entreaty. “Do not ask that of me again.”

Fiona’s eyes filled. “Have compassion. Come back to River Run. You know it is the right thing to do. She would never have fallen into such temptation if she had known you were alive.”

He turned away and stood in silence, thinking of what to do. In his breast pocket was Eliza’s letter. He laid his palm over it, as an idea formed in his mind, along with the steps he needed to take.

“All right. I will come back, and I will bring Darcy with me. River Run is mine. I do not know what I was thinking to take Darcy away from her home. Go inside and wake her, put on her shoes and gather her things.”

A smile sprung onto Fiona’s face, and she hurried inside the inn. Darcy rubbed her eyes when she woke her. Hastily, Fiona slipped on her small leather shoes and fastened the buckles.

“I’ll tell Mama about the hoot owl that was outside the window, Papa. It called and called, and I thought it was telling me to go home.”

Hayward strode to the door. He waited for her to scamper to him, take his hand, and walk out with him to his horse. He lifted her into the saddle, and decided to walk alongside while Fiona rode the mare.

No words were spoken the entire way.





Reaching the house a half hour later, Hayward halted his horse and brought Darcy down. He glanced up at the window that belonged to his bedchamber. The curtains were open, and a single candle glimmered in the broad casement.

Before he mounted the steps, Sarah hurried out the front door, her face drawn and haggard with worry. Her dress was torn and the hem muddy. He had no time to question why. In silence, Hayward passed her and carried Darcy inside. He set her down, pulled off his coat and hat, and yanked off his gloves.

His house had changed. It seemed somber and dim. No streams of moonlight flowed through the windows as before. The house smelled old, and a musty odor hung in the air.

At the foot of the staircase he paused, then took Darcy’s hand and proceeded upstairs. Ahead of him, Fiona opened the door, and he stepped over the threshold. He tugged at his neckcloth to ease the knot in his throat. A grim pall lay over his wife’s face, which he knew would haunt him the remainder of his life.

The embroidered coverlet over her hadn’t a single crease upon it. A stump of a candle burned on the table beside the bed, the tiny flame shimmering over a glass bottle of water and a drinking glass. On the dressing table were her brush, comb, and powder box, the lid of the box cracked. He had done that—in a moment of rage. He should not have dashed them to the floor the way he did, but he justified his action. Anger and pain had driven him to do it—it was Eliza’s fault.

She lay dressed in a white chemise, the bedclothes tucked about her body. The lids of her eyes were motionless, and her face looked as pale as the sheets on which she lay. His heart tightened in his chest to see her in such a state. Deep within, the love he had for her forced its way through steel and stone. The thought of losing her caused a deeper wound to open. But it twisted shut when he thought of Eliza’s betrayal, and his bitterness beat back any tender feelings.

Darcy peeked around his leg. He looked down at her, saw how her eyes widened. She whimpered at the sight of her mother. Fiona turned her away, but Hayward insisted she stay.

“Come. Look upon your mother, Darcy.” He moved her gently forward.

“Wake up, Mama,” Darcy whispered.

Hayward set his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “She cannot.”

Darcy shuddered and looked up at him. “Why, Papa?”

“She’s going away.”

“To Heaven to be with the Ilene?”

“I do not believe so, Darcy. You’ve heard of Hell, have you not? Well, that is where your mama will be. You see, if you are a bad person and sin—that is where you will go. That is where your mother is going . . . forever.”

Aghast, Fiona threw her arm around Darcy and moved her back. “Mr. Morgan! That is a cruel thing to tell the child.”

“Why should I withhold the truth from her?”

“It is not right to put such things in her head and cause her to fear.”

He felt the heat rise in his face. “I will not have you instruct me.” He reached for Darcy, grabbed her hands, and yanked her against him. Darcy took in a quick breath. Tears fell from her eyes, down her cheeks, and over her trembling lips. She snatched her hands away from her father’s rough ones and stood back with balled fists.

“Mama won’t be there, Papa. Mama will go to Heaven.”

“You have to know the truth, Darcy. Bad people do not go to Heaven.”

She shook her head. “No, Papa. Mama will be in Heaven with Ilene. Mama is good.”

Jerking away, Darcy hurried to her mother’s bedside. She climbed into the bed and put her hands upon Eliza’s cheeks. “Wake, Mama! Wake!”





The warm touch of her child’s hands against her cheeks caused Eliza to open her eyes. When she saw Darcy’s troubled face, she wrapped her arms around her and held her close. She looked over to see Hayward standing nearby. “Hayward. You have come back.”

He said nothing at first. “I am leaving in the morning on business. I may be gone several days. Are you well enough to care for Darcy?”

Weakly she smiled. “Yes.” She caressed the curls falling down Darcy’s back. “I will recover now that she is with me.”

“Then it is just what I thought. Pretense.” He turned away and walked out. The bang of the door sounded deliberate as he passed through it. Eliza’s heart sunk. She read in his movements, in the tone of his voice, that he had not forgiven her, that she had not won back his heart.

Before the scarlet dawn broke, the candle on her bedside table died. Darcy curled up beside her and set her hand in Eliza’s. Fiona sat in the chair across from her, with Sarah nearby on the window seat.

“Go to bed, Fiona, Sarah,” she said.

Fiona rose and shuffled toward the door. Eliza smiled over at her when she looked back and pulled the door closed. But Sarah stayed. “I won’t leave you until I know you are sleeping well,” she said, then turned back to the window and the moonlight coming through it.

As the sun rose, Eliza listened to footfalls going down the stairs. A moment, and the front door opened and slammed shut. Outside, Gareth whinnied and the hollow sound of hoofbeats retreated down the lane.

Hayward. Come back to me. Forgive me, my love.

She closed her eyes and prayed God would make a way where there seemed to be no way.