The Courier of Caswell Hall (35 page)

Lydia glanced down at the dirt stains on her soiled skirt. Her face must be drenched in sweat, her hair atrocious.

“We must hurry,” Lydia said.

“We will.”

If only she knew why they must wait.

Twenty minutes later, Lydia started back down to the stair hall. She gasped when she saw the man in the hall, and then joy flooded her heart.

“Grayson?”

Her brother was alive.

But even as Grayson looked up at her, she saw fear in his eyes and realized he was holding something in his arms.
Someone
. She hurried down the steps at the same time Mother rushed out of the library.

Her brother held Sarah Hammond, her body wrapped in a cloak on this summer day and her head limp against his chest.

Mother kissed Grayson’s cheek and quickly directed him toward the library. Lydia followed them, her heart aching and her mind whirling to make sense of it all.

What had happened to her friend? And how had Grayson found her?

Grayson gently laid Sarah on the chaise lounge. Seth did not acknowledge Lydia as he draped a blanket over his sister. Grayson held a tin cup to Sarah’s lips, and her eyes fluttered open and then closed as she sipped of it.

Dr. Cooper listened to Sarah’s chest. “I must examine her in private,” he replied. “Her husband can stay.”

“Husband?” Lydia blurted. When had he and Sarah married? She wanted to rejoice at the news, and yet she was still trying to understand all the pieces.

“Might Lady Caswell stay as well?” Grayson asked. “I will need her help.”

The doctor nodded.

Lydia moved toward the hall, and Seth stepped beside her. She motioned him toward it as if he hadn’t been there hundreds of times. Inside, they stood in awkward silence. Her anger at his leaving, her dreams long ago of becoming his wife—it all seemed surreal. The anger was now gone, as were the dreams. She and Seth were two strangers, the experiences of these past years alienating them. They both might desire liberty now, but they would never enjoy their freedom together.

She stared at him, unsure of what to say. She only hoped Father’s work in the barn would deter him from returning to the house until late tonight, but even if he walked through the door at this moment, she doubted he would threaten Seth’s life. Their old quarrel seemed irrelevant somehow, now that Grayson was back—and married to Seth’s sister. No matter how they differed with Lord Caswell, Sarah and Seth had become family.

Seth rested his hand on the back of a chair. “The last time I was here, we exchanged words I regret.”

“I regret them as well, but my father does not. When he comes, I fear he will not welcome you.”

“I fear only for my sister at present.”

Lydia’s heart quickened. “What happened to Sarah?”

He shook his head. “Did you know that your brother was a prisoner of the British?”

Her chest clenched. “The British?”

“He has been working for the Patriots since he left here.”

She thought Grayson had fled because he feared the rebels in Williamsburg, but it shouldn’t surprise her. While she had always prized security, Grayson had desired the liberty of being able to go where he pleased.

She sighed. “I did not know.”

“Sarah helped rescue him from his captors, but Grayson said she has been weak ever since. They slept last night on our property.”

Her stomach rolled at the mention of his plantation. “I am so sorry about your home.”

“’Tis not your fault.”

“I fear some of it is my fault. British officers stayed here, and my sister told them—” She hesitated. She didn’t want to talk of their proposed marriage. “I told them you were fighting with the Patriots.”

His eyebrows rose. “You once called me a rebel.”

“I have learned much since then.”

His fingers clutched the back of the chair, his knuckles turning white. “After the war, I shall not return to Virginia.”

She took a deep breath. “I see.”

He glanced down for a moment, and when he looked up again, she could see the conflict in his eyes—and a hint of the boy she once knew. “I have decided . . .”

At his hesitation, she prompted him. “What is it, Seth?”

“I have asked the daughter of my commander to marry me.”

Perhaps her heart should ache at the news, but Lydia felt hollow instead. “And she has accepted?”

He nodded. “I am sorry, Lydia.”

“There is no reason for you to apologize,” she assured him. “The years have propelled us apart.”

“I hope we will remain . . . That is, I suppose we are more than friends—almost brother and sister now that Grayson and Sarah have married.”

“I suppose we are.” She managed a wan smile. “I wish you well, Seth.”

“Truly?”

She took a deep breath. “Truly.”

“I wish you well also.”

Mother stepped into the room. “The doctor would like to speak with all of us.”

Lydia and Seth joined her in the library. Both Dr. Cooper and Grayson looked grave, and Lydia didn’t know if she could bear what they had to say.

Seth reached for his sister’s hand as she slept. “What is wrong?”

Dr. Cooper replaced his tools into a small bag. “I fear she might have diabetes.”

Lydia swayed.
Diabetes?
There was no cure for the disease.

“If she does—” Grayson stammered over his words, his voice distorted by pain. “If she does, how long will she be with us?”

“I have pills that may prolong her hours, but I fear it will not be long now.”

Not days or weeks or months. They had only hours left with her.

The doctor lifted his bag. “A coma will overtake her first, so you will want to say your good-byes soon.”

Lydia looked at her brother, at the agony etched on his face. Long ago she had wondered whether he loved Sarah Hammond. Now she knew—Grayson loved his wife with everything in him, and if the doctor was right, he must now say good-bye.

Sarah’s eyes fluttered open, and she smiled when she saw Lydia. She reached out her hands, and Lydia went to her. “Have you any water?” Sarah asked.

Grayson filled a glass from the pitcher, and Lydia sat on the lounge and helped her drink it.

“I am sorry. I am so thirsty.”

“There is no need for apologies,” Lydia said. “We have a river full of water.”

And then Grayson gave Sarah more.

Sarah glanced up at her husband hovering over her. “I am dying, aren’t I?”

Seconds passed as Grayson stared at her, as if time could change the answer to her question. “I am—” His voice cracked. “I am so sorry.”

“Please, do not leave me,” she said, her voice small.

Grayson sat beside her and brushed her beautiful hair away from her forehead. “I will not.”

Sarah’s eyes found Seth. “But you must leave and continue your fight, for all of us.”

Seth embraced her. “I shall stay until morning.”

Sarah kissed his cheek. “Please tell Father that I did my best.”

“He would be so proud of you,” he said as he fought his tears. “We are all proud of you.”

Seth hugged her one last time before retreating into the hall. Lydia stood to leave Sarah and Grayson alone for the night, but Sarah reached out to stop her. “Lydia?”

Turning back, she fought against her tears as Seth had done.

“You have been the best of friends,” Sarah said.

Lydia kissed her forehead. “We are friends and sisters.”

Sarah smiled weakly. “I want you to know, I have forgiven those men who killed Thomas and burned my home.”

“I am very glad.”

Her smile grew stronger. “Do you remember how we used to dance?”

Lydia nodded. “There were no cares for us then.”

“After I die, I want you to dance for me.” Sarah leaned forward, coughing, before she rested back on her pillow again. “Dance as if you haven’t a care.”

Lydia kissed her friend’s damp forehead once more. “I will dance.”

“Do you want more water?” Grayson whispered.

“Aye,” Sarah said as he sat beside her, holding the glass for her to drink.

Her body could hold no water or sustenance—at least that was what Dr. Cooper had told them. Hers was a thirst that could never be quenched in this life.

After she finished, Grayson lay down on the lounge beside his wife and gently wrapped his arms around her waist. She clung to his arms as if they could hold her back from leaving.

He was the one who was supposed to die, back on the ship. Sarah was full of life and love and hope for their future. A future they were supposed to share. If only he could rescue her as she had done for him. He knew he should pray that God’s will be done, but he couldn’t bear to offer that prayer.

He pulled her closer to his chest. “I have taken your life.”

“No, Grayson, you gave me life.”

He trembled. “I never should have left you.”

She stopped his words with a gentle squeeze. “This is no time for regrets.”

But his heart was full of regrets. For leaving her the first time and then for traveling with her these past weeks when she was fighting to live.

He’d begged the doctor to tell him what to do—he could travel to wherever necessary to find a cure for her—but Dr. Cooper insisted there was no cure. Her body was flushing out her life.

“Do you think I will see angels?” she asked, her soft voice blending with the night.

“I believe you might.”

“And perhaps I shall be able to fly with them.”

With her wings spread, her smile a reflection of the glorious, she would be radiant.

“I believe you shall be able to journey wherever you like.”

“I am ready to be with my Savior.”

“I love you, darling.”

She squeezed his arm again. “You must call me Madam. Madam Knight.”

He kissed her hair and then carefully rolled her toward him so he could see her face in the starlight. “I love you, Madam.”

“I may be leaving, but you must live, Grayson. You must buy a new ship and sail away.”

He brushed her hair over her ears. “I will not talk of sailing without you.”

“You came back here for me, but I do not want you to stay. You must be free.”

“I do not want to be free without you.”

Her body shook as she gasped for air. For a moment, he thought he’d lost her, but she spoke again. “Perhaps He will let me sail with you.”

“I pray He will.”

She closed her eyes. “Until we meet again.”

“We shall meet again soon.”

As he told her of his love, Sarah slipped into a deep sleep.

He held her close to him until dawn.

Everyone was asleep when Lydia sneaked into the great hall. The light from her lantern spilled over the freshly waxed floor, and she breathed deeply of the sweet scent of the flowers Mother had clipped from the formal garden. Flowers and the accompanying weeds were the only things on the plantation that seemed to thrive without much care.

The room had been scrubbed clean, the broken glass swept, the curtains washed. But the success of their work didn’t diminish their family’s sorrow.

Sarah’s funeral had been a small affair. Their family and Seth had gathered at the family plot on the Hammond property this afternoon for the burial. Father had the grace to tell both Seth and Grayson that he was sorry for their loss. But after the burial, Father insisted that Grayson help him harvest the crop on the plantation. In his grief and anger, Grayson stormed away from the Hammond plantation, and with great sadness, Lydia knew she might never see her brother again.

But tonight she must stop thinking of conflict.

Tonight she would remember Sarah.

Lydia did not want to think about her friend—her sister—being deceased. Sarah was one of the most alive people she knew, and tonight she wanted to celebrate her life.

She would dance.

As the music played in her head, Lydia curtsied to the shadows and took an imaginary hand. She held out the sides of her linen shift as if it were made of the finest satin from Paris, and then she and her partner swirled around the floor.

Couples dressed in the finest of velvets and taffeta danced around them, but she only had eyes for her partner. She couldn’t see his face, but it didn’t matter. She knew who she danced with. He would never be welcomed into this house, but she could pretend that he had been invited to one of their grand balls.