Before the Scarlet Dawn - By Rita Gerlach Page 0,1
in greeting, and feast his eyes on her.
Once outside the door, she leaned her ear against it and listened. Muffled voices were all she could make out. Seconds later, Fiona, the woman who had nurtured her from the day of her mother’s passing, poked her head around the corner. The cap she wore looked white as snow in the candlelight. Fiona always kept her caps starched and clean, and her hazel eyes, set deep within a face round as an October moon, looked just as bright when she raised her brows at Eliza.
“Go on with you, my girl. It is not polite to eavesdrop.” Fiona waved her off and moved in front of Eliza with the tray of tea toppling to the left.
Eliza stepped back. “What is this all about, Fiona? Do you know?”
“I won’t know a thing until I go in with the Reverend’s tea. Now move away from the door. Do not let me catch you peering inside to see what’s going on. It would be rude, my dear.”
“Then I shall listen outside the door. I have every right to.”
“No, you do not, my girl. If your father wants you to know his business, he will tell you. He doesn’t need his daughter being so bold as to lay her ear upon his door and listen in on his private conversations.”
Determined, Eliza pressed her back against the wall. “Perhaps not, but I think I know why Mr. Travis has come. Langbourne sent him with a letter to Papa to ask permission to wed me. I wish I knew what Papa was telling him.”
Fiona rolled her eyes, huffed, and shoved the door open. Before she could close it with her hip, Eliza overheard, “Mr. Langbourne said he knows how dire your situation is, sir, and wishes an answer forthwith.”
“And what are the conditions?”
“It’s all contained in the letter I have brought. Ah, hot tea. I am chilled, ma’am, to the marrow. Thank ye.”
Eliza’s breath slowly escaped her throat. She pressed her mouth into a firm line, kept her back against the paneled wall, and stared at the ceiling.
So Mr. Langbourne wishes an answer? No, Papa would never be so callous as to give me to a man I do not know very well, let alone love. He believes in the sacredness of marriage; a holy, unbroken institution in the Lord’s eyes, where man and woman make a lifetime commitment to each other in their love for each other. It’s a serious matter and not to be trifled with, or bartered for land, possessions, or money.
For a moment, she thought of her mother, how, through the years her father kept his beloved’s memory alive, telling Eliza how he had loved Mary Lanham. Plenty of opportunities presented themselves, but he never remarried. And if only her brother were home. He would see to it that she married the right man and take this burden off their father. Instead, he lived far away, serving in the King’s army, committed to finding his own way in the world. In another year, he would be able to resign his service and settle down. But his choice, he said—America. How could Stephen help her from so great a distance?
Unable to bear the suspense, she turned the doorknob and the door opened slowly. Standing in front of her father, Travis turned and passed his eyes over her, as if assessing her from head to toe.
She took the cup from his hand and set it on the tray. “My father is tired. You must leave now.”
Her father lifted one side of his mouth into a gentle smile. She hoped he saw her distress. “Thank you,” he said. “Tell Mr. Langbourne I am honored by his letter. But it is my daughter who must give him an answer.”
Her father’s hands trembled while he clutched the letter between his fingers and set it down beside him. The disease that plagued his body caused the tremors, and they seemed to grow worse as the days wore on.
Hat in hand, John Travis nodded and stepped from the room.
“Do not look so troubled, child. This is good news, I should say,” Matthias reached for Eliza’s hand.
She drew up her chair beside her father and sat. “Let me guess. They have decided to accept women at Oxford and have offered that I come there to study.”
She smiled, hoping to ease his melancholy. He frowned instead. “It is nothing of the kind. Why do you jest about such things?”