Thorns in Eden and the Everlasting Mountains (16 page)

“I
know you are everywhere, God,” she whispered. Tears fell down her cheeks and
she shook with broken emotion and a beating heart. “You are even in this dark
place, where it seems there’s no escape, where love seems a fantastic dream and
I’m lost and now without a friend.”

She
tasted the salt of her tears on her lips. Then she walked on but not back to
the house. She wanted to lose herself in the fields, lose herself there in the
wind and cold, under the beckoning sky. But fear seized her, and she turned and
ran back to Endfield.

She
envisioned her beloved an ocean away, dressed in buckskins, a hunting shirt and
leather leggings, moccasin boots laced to his knees, his hair tied back in a
leather strip, an Indian standing beside him with folded arms. In the
background she saw smoke and fire. She heard the blast of flintlocks, muskets,
and the screams of men.

Then
in a moment, he was gone, gone with the drumbeat of battle, and the cold winds
of war.

March 1774

It was
not the most beautiful months for a wedding. The hills were thick with frost,
fields brown and muddy. Rivers and streams swelled, rushed, and murmured. Skies
by day remained gray and nights were long and cold.

Outside
Rebecah’s window, hungry sparrows ate the breadcrumbs she left on the sill.
They pranced, chirped, and fought for the morsels with beating wings. Sitting
on the side of her bed, she stared at them, then at the gown hanging from the
armoire. It was not what she had dreamed of wearing on her wedding day.

She
had imagined a gown done in lace and apricot silk, trimmed in pearls. This gown
was somber ecru linen, trimmed at the neck and sleeves with satin piping, laced
in the back.

But
it was not only the gown that made her sorry. It was the fact she was marrying
a man she did not love. Yet she was going through with it. It was what her father
wanted, what her uncle now demanded.

Seizing
upon the chance that Nash was far from her, Brent expedited the arrangement.
There was money in it for him and the freedom of an unwanted burden.

Lanley
was more than pleased to change his plans. Rebecah’s dowry was minimal, but he
did not care. He was filthy rich. He had two country manors and a townhouse in
London.

She
tried to love Lanley. It was impossible. But she had come to esteem him at
least. He indulged her with presents and love letters. He made promises she
knew he would never keep, but they were pretty to hear.

She
went to the fireside. As the flames warmed her, she thought of the night she
and Nash were together at Ashburne. She loved him, but buried her feelings deep
into an unforgiving heart.

* * *

John
Nash stood at the rail of a ship with a heavy heart unaware it was Rebecah
Brent’s wedding day. He looked out upon a shining sea and brilliant blue sky.
The smell of saltwater was strong. The roar of the sea crashed against the
ship’s haul and could not compare to the roaring in his soul. He gripped the
timber of the ship, and looked west to a different world where an uncertain
future awaited him.

He
pressed his hand against his breast. Inside his coat pocket was the small leather-bound
Bible his father had given him before his departure. Sir Rodney inscribed a dedication.

To
my son, John Alexander Nash. 

Herein
find your courage and strength. Let God be your fortress and high tower, and an
ever-present help in times of trouble.  

Your
loving father,

Sir
Rodney Nash

In
the year of our Lord, 1774

He
missed him already, wished he could be half the man his father was. With the
news he had heard from crewmen, he knew he would need more courage and strength
than he could ever imagine.

The
firebrands of revolution smoldered in France. The wheels of religious intolerance
ground slowly and finely in Europe. The British lion and the American eagle
stood eye to eye, one to preserve its power and dominion, the other to break
free of what had become cruel and unjust dominance. Church bells tolled in
Philadelphia, and children were starving in Boston. And out in the frontier and
Indian War had begun.

Tucking
the Bible back into his coat, he looked back toward the east. England and he
had separated for good.

*  *  *

After
a soft knock on Rebecah’s door, March stepped inside and announced Lady
Margaret wished a word. The slim, but stately lady, entered with a sweep of her
skirts. Her face looked rosy and young, with sad, searching eyes. Rebecah
curtsied and greeted her warmly.

Her
ladyship’s expression showed a strange pity, not joy for a bride to be. She
held out her hands.

“Forgive
me for coming to the house. We were meant for the church, but I could not stay
away. I wish to speak with you before you go downstairs. I know we have time.”

“I
am always happy to see you,” Rebecah said. “Especially today.

“Yes,
your wedding day.” Lady Margaret slipped off her gloves and set them aside.
“How pale you look. Where is the bright bloom of a young woman in love?”

“I
was not aware there should be a physical change, one way or the other,” Rebecah
replied. “I’m as I’ve always been.”

“I don’t
agree. May I have my say?”

“I
suppose you’ve come to advise me on the duties of a good wife.” A smile
struggled over Rebecah’s lips.

 “As
your elder I could demand your ear. But I shall not impose on you in that way. I’ll
speak if you’re willing to listen.”

“Of
course I’ll listen, out of my esteem for you.”

Lady
Margaret frowned. “I suppose that shall be enough. But I hope your heart is
willing.”

“If
I implied otherwise, excuse me for it. I sense you are troubled.”

“I
am.”

 “I
hope I’m not the cause.”

Lady
Margaret clasped her hands together. “I’m grieved. My heart is pained for what you
are about to do.”

“Dispel
your misgivings. Lanley will make a good husband.” 

“In
name only. See sense.”

“There’s
no better blood in England. I shall not lack for anything.”

“He
may be willing to provide dutifully toward you, but have you no regrets?”

“I
do, but not with the decision I’ve made.”

“You
are not in love with him.”

“I
admit I am not.”

“Do
you no longer believe love is a prelude to marriage? The heart is what binds a
man and woman together, not a title or wealth. Must you throw away your life?”

 “My
father made me swear before he died I would marry Lanley. I cannot go back on
my word.”

“You
were once willing to do just that. Or have you forgotten?” 

Lady
Margaret stepped to the window to look out at the empty scene toward the woods.
“You must forgive me for being so bold with my words.”

“It’s
a quality I admire in you, my lady.”

Lady
Margaret hung her head. “I would have preferred you had called me mother.” 

Rebecah
sighed.  “I would have, if…”

Her
ladyship turned sharply. “Please tell me what happened. Tell me or I shall fall
apart. What did he do to make you despise him?”

“I don’t
hate him. But we cannot be together.”

“I’m
not blind, Rebecah. Jack was deeply in love with you.”

Rebecah
stared into the fire.
He loved me, yes, but not enough to tell me the truth.

“What
we shared was a brief infatuation.”

Lady
Margaret shook her head. “I don’t believe it. You still love him.”

“There
are unhappy moments in life and one must accept them.”

“Yes,
and you are placing yourself into one by marrying Lanley.” She paced away from
the window, along the carpet the met the door. “I should not have come to you
at all.”

 Rebecah
knew Lady Margaret was right, but refused to admit it. She could not bring
herself to tell her ladyship what had transpired. Already she was hurt by his
leaving. To add injury to an open wound Rebecah could not do.

Lady
Margaret took her by the shoulders. “I think you are making a grave mistake.
Please reconsider. Please think.”

Rebecah
tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I have done both.”

“Then
you are going through with it?”

“Yes.”

Lady
Margaret shrugged. “Well, I am only too glad Jack is not here to witness it. He
left, you know, for his friends and property.”

Rebecah
glanced at her with a start. “He is gone?”

“Yes,
and I doubt he will ever return. I pray it makes him happy. But I doubt it. Not
until he meets a woman who will love him unconditionally.”

Rebecah
lowered her eyes.
He is gone. I’ll never see him again.

“I pray
he knows God’s forgiveness,” said Lady Margaret. “I wish he had yours.”

“I
cannot give it. My life now must go on with Lanley.”

Lady
Margaret snatched up her gloves. “Then take your path, Rebecah. I’ll always be
here for you if you should need me. I hope Lanley makes you happy. But try to
see the course of unforgiveness is a lonely one. The end results of its
achievements may bring more disappointment than you may imagine.”

The
maid entered to help Rebecah dress. Lady Margaret left to join her patient husband
in the coach.

Inwardly,
Rebecah grieved their meeting had ended so badly.

*  *  *

Lavinia
could not stay away. Words had to be spoken, and so she and David traveled back
to Endfield to see Rebecah married and try to make amends with Brent. The house
buzzed with activity. Tables were being set, maids rushed about. Lanley’s aunts
were directing everything for the wedding feast, and complaining like a flock
of geese.

“Your
cook hasn’t brought up the cake,” they said. “How can we conduct a reception
without the cake?” Brent walked away from their cackling.

Lavinia
waited at the front door watching the scene within. “Father?” she called.

Abruptly
Brent turned, and when he saw his wayward daughter, he looked at her stern and
cold.

“Father,
David and I are married. We’ve come to make amends and attend Rebecah’s
wedding.” She held both hands out. “Give us your blessing and say you love me
still.”

Brent
paused. He sighed. “You’re not welcomed in this house. You will not see your
sister or Hugh. No one is to speak to you again.”

“Father,
please!” Lavinia continued pleading with him, but he turned his back and walked
away, leaving her in tears. David put his arm around his wife and led her back
down the steps outside.

Despite
her father’s rejection, they would head for the church, fearing the worse was
about to befall Rebecah. 

*  *  *

An
hour later, the Brents’ coach came to a stop in front of the village church. Rebecah
felt the deepest sense of foreboding course through her when she saw the cold
stone facade and the black clad minister standing beside his church door.

With
eyes moist with quick sensation, she looked beyond the hand extended to her to
see people passing inside. Then her resolve weakened. Taking in a deep breath,
she fought to regain it. She gripped a fold in her gown, and with her arm in
her uncle’s, she crossed the threshold.

At
the altar, Lanley turned to see her. His expression appeared as one of
gentlemanly arrogance. He wore a white silk coat and a silver-shot waistcoat,
with breeches of blue brocade and white silk stockings. His scanty hair lay hidden
beneath a fashionable wig, the buckles of his shoes silver, and an exquisite
ruby sparkled on his finger. Lace tumbled in soft cascades over his hands.

Lanley
looked boorish, effeminate to the girl approaching him. His receding chin
quivered under a drooping lower lip. He fanned his nose with a lavender scented
handkerchief. A moment more and their eyes made contact. Rebecah hesitated and
busied her hands with the nosegay of holly she held. She felt her skin grow
cold and she shivered. She wondered if Lanley could see in her eyes a fearful
apprehension.

She
saw passion rise in his eyes. She knew then her effect on him was overwhelming.
He was experiencing carnal love, the desire for something kept from him, the
kind that grips a worldly man furiously if allowed. He could not remove his
lustful eyes from her.

Soon
her hand lay sedate in his. Before her mind’s eye, she saw herself lavished
with gifts, flowers, and well wishes. Dinner was to be given with wine and
dancing. Then Lanley would carry her off to his Georgian manor, a chilly house
with enormous rooms and elaborate furnishings. There, weary and exhausted,
she’d sit in an armchair beside a fire. Nearby would be a bowl of fruit, a
bottle of wine, two glasses, and a candle. The fire would bathe the room amber.
Its trembling light would set her skin to a velvety rose, her hair an
irresistible bronze cascade. But her silken beauty would not dismiss the
frightened glaze of her eyes. She was to be Lanley’s, his to possess and enjoy
as he wished.

In
her vision, she saw Lanley watching her. Pulling her from the chair, he wrapped
her in his arms. He kissed her. Her lips delighted him, but would not yield.
She stiffened as he explored the curves of her body. She pleaded, but he did
not stop.

She
opened her eyes and met reality in the face. Terrified, her heart cried within.
She remembered the vows made by the man who adored her, the warmth of his
embrace, the gentle way he kissed her, loved her. Then she recalled his hurt
and pleading eyes.

What
am I doing! Wake, Rebecah, before it is too late!

She
was startled back by the voice of the minister. “Will you repeat the words?” he
asked in a whisper, noticing her fearful look. He stared at her with concern.