Surrender the Wind by RITA GERLACH Read Free Book Online Page B

Seth agreed. “I suppose that must be the reason.”
    “It takes a long time for a woman, Mr. Braxton. We are sensitive creatures. I shall have my husband send forth an invitation as soon as you are settled.”
    With a crack of the coachman's whip, the horses pulled the coach up a single steep street into Clovelly, a medieval hamlet of thatched cottages.
    The lady pulled her children close. “Clovelly at last. We are proud of it, Mr. Braxton. It is the most beautiful seaside village in England.”
    Here the lady and her children disembarked. A carriage awaited them, sent by Sir Henry Fallowes to carry his family the rest of the route up the winding roads that led to their home six miles northeast.
    Farewells being said, Seth watched Lady Anna set off with her children. He would see them again, for it was inevitable he and Juleah Fallowes should meet.
    Having disembarked, Seth made his way down a narrow street that pitched sharply toward the sea five hundred feet below the village. He could hear the waves lap against the quay and pound the rocks in the windswept harbor. He looked down and saw a stone breakwater, curved like a pirate's hook into the sea. A seawall was draped in seaweed and the dark brown nets and traps of fishermen draped over the seawall.
    He paused and asked a man seated in his doorway, which way to Banes's house. Up the path he must return, go past a row of quaint cottages along a cobblestone street, and walk north for a quarter of a mile to a bleak timber-and-plaster house at the side of the road. From his coat pocket, he tookout the address given to him and checked it against the brass plate fixed beside the door under the glare of a lantern. Sea air had turned the plate green. He walked up the stairs, raised his fist, and knocked on the door.
    The door opened. A servant stood inside, one hand firm upon the latch, the other holding a candle. The golden flame cast a light over Seth's face, and the housekeeper hesitated, obviously wary of the man who stood outside. She took a firmer hold upon the door and closed it until only her oval face showed.
    Seth dragged off his hat. “I’m here to see Mr. Banes. Is he at home?”
    “He's abed. Come back tomorrow.”
    “I’m Squire Braxton's grandson.” Seth took a step forward. “Mr. Banes expects me.”
    Her jowls wiggled. “I don’t care who you are. The hour is too late for my master to see anyone.”
    “Late? It is but six of the hour.”
    “Mr. Banes concludes business by three on Saturday afternoons. Go on with you.” She lifted her nose in the air and went to shut the door.
    Seth put his boot in between the door and the jamb. “Listen here. I’m not leaving until I see Mr. Banes. I’ve had a long sea voyage and traveled overland from Penzance. Now, will you rouse him from his chamber, or shall I?”
    The woman narrowed her eyes. “If Mr. Banes gets angry, you’re to blame.”
    She mumbled under her breath, hoisted her skirts above a pair of stout ankles, and ascended the staircase. Then she disappeared down an upstairs hallway. To the right a double door led to a sitting room. A fire simmered in the hearth and gave warmth to the paneled room. Seth went in and warmedhis hands in front of the fire. The floorboards creaked under someone's weight upstairs. A moment later Banes came into the room, followed by his disgruntled housekeeper.
    “Bring tea, Winkle, and bread and cheese.”
    Banes wore an old burgundy dressing gown over a linen shirt and breeches. Upon his head, he wore a cap with a gold tassel that dangled from the top.
    “Winkle says you claim to be Seth Braxton.”
    “I am he, Mr. Banes. I’m sorry to disturb you, but you asked that I see you straightaway upon my arrival.”
    “Have you proof of your identity?”
    From his breast pocket, Seth retrieved a letter and handed it over. Banes put on his spectacles and took it in hand. He moved to inspect it in the light and nodded.
    “Yes, this is the letter I sent. But anyone could