Thorns in Eden and the Everlasting Mountains (15 page)

How
can she ever forgive me?

He
crossed the windswept countryside, rode into the valley and edged his horse
over a narrow cobblestone bridge. Beneath it, water flowed amid crusts of ice. A
candle burned in a lantern beside the door and he sighed, his heart heavy.

Nash
looked into the deepening sky.
What shall I tell them?

Angus
met him in the courtyard. Nash dismounted, handed him the reins and entered the
house. Upon the table lay his letter to his parents explaining his departure. A
moment and he stared at it, then snatched it up in his fist and crumbled it. A
fire blazed in the hearth. He strode to it, threw the pages into the flames,
watched them burn away to ash.

He
waited for his heartbeat to calm, heard movement outside, the whinny of horses,
and his stepmother’s delightful laughter.

Margaret
Nash came through the front door flushed and lively. She slipped off her cloak
and laid it aside. She was plainly dressed, her frock a soft brown wool.

“What
a beautiful day. You should see the sky, John.” She sat by the fire and pulled
off her riding boots. “Your father will be in directly. You know how he is
about the horses.”

Nash
walked over to the door, stood on the threshold and looked back at her. In a
few days he would leave and he wanted to remember her like this. Lady Margaret
glanced at him with a worried smile. He saw, by her changed expression, she
marked the fatigue in his face and the melancholy in his eyes.

She
pulled the cord for her servant and ordered food brought. “Come and sit, Jack.”

Nash
ran his hand over the smooth polished wood of her table. He had no appetite. Food
was no longer important—neither drink or material things.

“What
is wrong? You were in some kind of scuffle?” She looked at him for an answer.

“It
was an equal match.” He tried the beef. Tonight it was tasteless in his mouth.

“You
must be careful while in England, Jack. People are talking. The King’s men are
on guard every moment for dissenters and sympathizers.”

“Let
them watch me. I don’t care.” He shoved the plate aside. “I shall go in rags
and pledge everything I own, even my life for
The Glorious Cause
.”

She
reached over and touched his hand. “You know war is the least thing I want for
you. What will your father say?”

“That
I’m a man and have a right.”

She
drew away her hand from his. “I’m meddling.”

“No,
Mother. I realize how much it troubles you.”

“We
might talk of something else. Did you hurt the man?”

 “I
was not in a fight with a man, but a woman. Hurt her?  Indeed I hurt her.”

Lady
Margaret’s mouth fell open. “What woman?”

“Rebecah.
We quarreled and she broke it off. It was not meant to be.”

“You’re
hurt as well.” 

“I’ll
get over it. It’s my own fault for getting involved. I should have known
better.”

“Whatever
happened between you and Rebecah can be mended.” She tried to be encouraging.
“Lovers do quarrel, and they make up.” 

He
looked at her with sad, uncertain eyes and leaned on the table. “Can God change
the heart of a person? Can he help me forget?”

“He
makes every attempt to help us.”

“Perhaps
I’m just a blind fool.” 

“No, Jack. You’re not that.”
“Will it grieve you when I leave again?”

“Of course. I’ll
miss you deeply.”

“Father should sell
Standforth and come with me.”

“Someday. But not
yet.”

“I understand.”

“When
you left home for America, my heart was heavy as lead and I grieved for your going.
I worried and prayed. When at last you had come home and you told us of your success,
I was put at ease.”

“I
hope you will remain at ease. I’m returning without a wife, which I can tell
you regret.”

The
front door slammed. With his face flushed from the cold, Sir Rodney strode into
the room.

“Ah,
Jack, you’re back. Good. Did you know my lady is a better judge of horses than
any man in the county? The gentry are asking for her opinion on horses.”

Nash
smiled. “I was thinking of her better judgment.”

Sir
Rodney nudged him on the shoulder. “It’s a shame you did not stay and go with
us, being a brisk day and the countryside so pleasant. How has the day passed
for you?” 

“I’ll
leave you men to talk.” Lady Margaret gathered up a book she had left on the
settee and exited the room.

The
troubled son put another log on the fire, and for a time they sat quietly
looking at the flames build.

“What
ails you, Jack?” asked Sir Rodney.

Nash
faced his ever-patient father. “Rebecah has rejected me. She heard about the
altercation I had with Richard Brent.”

“Surely
she understands the circumstances.”

“She
blames me for his death.”

“Ridiculous.
I cannot see how.”

 “Nor
can I, unless…”

“What
are you thinking?”

“He
could have recovered, and then the infection reoccurred.”

“After
so long?”

“I
do not know.” Nash ran his hands over his face.

“This
must be Samuel Brent’s doing.”

“I don’t
know who accused me…”

“Well,
someone filled her ear. It had to be him. He wants her to wed that namby-pamby
Lanley. Oh, he has gone too far this time. Is Rebecah blind?”

“I’m
the blind one.”

Sir
Rodney shook his head. “There is more to this than meets the eye. I’ll go to
Samuel and speak to him in your defense—in front of Rebecah.”

“I don’t
think that would be a good idea.”

“I
know Samuel well enough to know, he would not hesitate to have you arrested.
Perhaps there’s no time to clear you.”

 “I
agree, Father.”

Sir
Rodney leaned forward. “As much as I hate this, you must leave, my son.”

“Cowards
run.”

 “Do
it for our sakes, your stepmother’s and mine.”

Nash
paused to think, then nodded. “I’ll go first thing in the morning.” He took
hold of his father’s arm. “But promise me this. You will come as soon as the
fighting is over. Let us be a family again. Let me take care of you and your
lady in your old age.”

Sir
Rodney hesitated a moment. Then he threw his arms around his son.

*  *  *

Before
dawn, before swallows dipped and banked across the sky, Nash embraced his
father and slipped into his stepmother’s room to wake her. Her hair peeked out
of her nightcap and she looked at him with startled eyes. He kissed her cheek
and spoke tenderly. A moment later, he climbed into the saddle of his horse and
looked back at the house he had grown up in one last time. Sir Rodney stood
with his arm around his tearful wife at the front door, and raised his hand in
farewell. Nash lifted his hat and spurred his horse. His heart was pained to
leave them, and he steeled himself with a struggle.

The
roads were clear, but he took a different route over the hills and open fields.
When Endfield came into view, he reined in his horse and looked at it from the
top of the hill. A new day had risen over the horizon, and the birds had begun
to sing. His heart beat in his breast and he struck up his courage. 

March’s
mouth gaped when she opened the door. “You’re not welcomed here.” She went to
close it, but he brushed by her without saying a word.

He
walked through the house, down the hall to the breakfast room expecting the
family to be there. March hurried at his heels. “Stop, Mr. Nash. You mustn’t go
in there.”

She
may be right. I may be a fool for doing this. But I must have the last word.

The
first face he saw when he walked in was Rebecah’s. His eyes met hers, and she froze.
Disbelief shadowed her face. Her uncle stood with an oath.

Dorene
set her napkin down. “Jack. Have you come to grovel? You see, Rebecah. He has
come to beg for your forgiveness.”

“I’ve
come to say my peace. A man has the right to face his accusers.” He looked at
Brent. “Throw me out, but let me defend myself before you do.”

“How
did you get in here?” Brent stormed.

“I
tried to stop him,” said March. “But he forced his way inside.”

Brent
moved from the table. “You may leave, March. I’ll handle this.” She obeyed and
closed the door. The room remained silent except for the crackling of the
fire. 

“Hello,
Jack,” Lavinia said quietly and with sadness. “I’m glad you came if no one else
is. I imagine you’re leaving for America and we shall not see you again.”

“Be
silent, Lavinia!” Brent commanded. 

“No,
Father. I believe you’re wrong about Jack.”

“Be
silent, I say!”

Humiliation
swept over Lavinia’s face, and she stared back at her plate. Rebecah reached
over and gripped her hand. He wondered if this were a sign of empathy. Had time
given her the chance to reconsider her rejection of him? Did she now realize
what he had been accused of was folly?

“Say
what you want, and be done with it.” Brent shoved back his chair. “It won’t
change anything.”

 “I
can assure you,” said Nash, stiff with conviction, “I have one vow to keep and that
is to leave and never return. Of that I’m certain you’re relieved.”

“More
than you realize.”

“My
father and his lady have done nothing against you or you against them. I wouldn’t
want this to break their ties with the Brents.”

“I do
not intend to break ties with them. I do intend to have you arrested.”

“What
proof have you?”

“I
shall acquire witnesses to my brother’s story.”

“It’s
true I met Sir Richard on the road going north. There was a confrontation.” He
went on describing that night in Maryland, how it was dark, how he and his
companion were confronted by Redcoats, and the threats made by the officer on
horseback. He told them all he knew. Yet in Brent’s eyes he saw an
unwillingness to believe anything he said.

“But
I question whether my bullet was the thing that brought on the infection that
killed him. How could he have survived as long as he did?”

“You
admit to firing your pistol at him?”

 “I
do.”

“There
you see, Rebecah?”

Nash
stepped forward, hat in hand, gazing at her. “You once loved me. Through an
accusation your feelings for me have been destroyed. Had I been questioned
fairly and heard out, perhaps our love would have been spared.”

“It
was my father that accused you.” She spoke with such bitterness that her hands
trembled. “I read his letter.”

“Rebecah,
forgive me. Believe me. I did not mean to hurt anyone. I may not have caused
this. Let us make inquiries together to discover the truth…”

 “I
can take no more.” She stood and rushed out of the room. Brent looked pleased
at this, and a smug grin spread across his face.

“Once
more you’ve upset my household. Leave a once. You’ll pay the consequences soon
enough.”

Knowing
there was no more he could do, Nash put on his hat and strode out. He caught a
glimpse of Rebecah. He picked up his pace. She turned to face him, her back to
the wall. The light from the window touched her face, etched the tips of her
hair.

He
took her in his arms. “Please tell me, I’ll not be forced to live without you.” 

“Accepted
it as I have.”

 “You’re
asking me to forget everything between us. You want to throw away our love
based on an assumption.”

“I
have a duty to my father.”

He
brought her closer, his lips within inches of hers. “Rebecah, we love each
other. What we feel cannot die as easy as you say. Let us find the truth about
your father together. And if indeed I am the cause, I beg you forgive me. But I
assure you there’s more to this than what you’ve been led to believe. Please…”

Breathing
hard and trembling, she raised her eyes. There were tears in them, and it cut
him to the quick.

“It
hurts too much. And I cannot bear it. Now let me go.”

Pained
he drew back, pressed his lips together to stifle the aching in his soul. He
looked at her one last time, and walked out with thunder pounding through his
veins.

When
night grew old and the clock in the hallway struck midnight, Lavinia and Rebecah
stole down the servants’ stairway in the dark. Never before had the wood
creaked so loudly. Softly now they stepped. Once down, they made their way out
a side door toward the grove of trees beyond Endfield’s gate.

A pair
of horses stood beneath the trees. David stepped forward, called to Lavinia,
and lifting her gown, she rushed into his arms.

“You’re so brave to leave,” Rebecah told them.

“It would not have come to this if Sir Samuel had given us his consent,”
David said.

“You
will come see us, won’t you?” Lavinia asked.

“Yes,
of course I will.”

They
embraced, bound by the selfsame search for tender love. But one held fast that
treasure, while the other had tossed it away as if, instead of choice gold, it
had been rust and tin. If only things had been different, she and Nash would
have run away together too. She wondered if her father’s letter had saved her
or ruined her life. Time would tell.

“We
must hurry.” David helped Lavinia onto her horse. He looked at Rebecah and
sighed. “My thanks, Rebecah. You took a risk.” He leaned over, kissed her cheek,
and climbed into the saddle.

Turning
the horses out onto the road, they rode off and vanished in the gloom. Rebecah
stood alone, listening to the hoof beats fade. Silence followed, then the wind
rose and whispered through the trees. She gripped her arms together oppressed
by the shrouding darkness. The wind blew back her hair from off her face. It
stung her eyes until tears welled.