From This Day Forward Page 5

  “Aha, I thought you were English. That is awful, being left stranded here. Do you have any family in Charleston?”

  “What are you doing here, Sarah?”

  Gasping, Sarah whirled around with Faith cradled against her. “May a sister visit her brother?”

  Rachel glanced toward the open doorway. She had not heard Nathan come in either. Her pulse kicked up a notch.

  “Yes, but since we saw each other a few days ago, there must be a reason for this visit. Did you come from Liberty Hall? I was there this morning and you were not.”

  “You were? Why?”

  “To borrow a few items to help Rachel. So you came from Charleston. I am surprised you came here before going to Liberty Hall. Where’s John?”

  “In Charleston. He was at the docks when I left.” Sarah fussed with the blanket around Faith then handed the baby back to Rachel. “Patrick wants to see you.”

  “He knows where to find me.”

  “At Pinecrest.”

  “No.”

  “Grandfather is sick.”

  “Then Patrick should have a physician see him.”

  “He will. You.”

  Nathan strode toward a cabinet and withdrew another large bowl, placed it on the table, and then poured sugar into it, along with other ingredients. After he added the flour, he began stirring the cake mixture, his features set in granite.

  Sarah stamped her foot. “Nathan Stuart, don’t you ignore me.”

  “If you two will excuse me…” Remembering squabbles she’d had with her siblings, Rachel sidestepped toward the door of the bedchamber.

  Nathan trapped her with an intense gaze, burning with suppressed anger. “Stay. I promised I would show you how to make a cake.”

  “But—” The protest died in Rachel’s throat. From across the room, Nathan’s distress beckoned to her. She wouldn’t leave if he wanted her to stay. She owed him that much.

  Nathan swung toward his sister. “Sarah, you are welcome to stay and enjoy a piece of cake when ’tis ready, but if you do, not another word about Grandfather.”

  “You are as bad as he is. We are a family, whether you two want to acknowledge that or not. You used to follow him everywhere and hang on his every word. How can you turn your back on him?”

  His jaw clamped shut, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “I didn’t throw him off my land nor threaten him at gunpoint. When I returned from the war, I wanted to mend the rift between us, but obviously he didn’t.”

  “Please go see him. He can be stubborn but—”

  “It will not do any good.” Nathan picked up some patty pans and buttered them.

  His sister threw her hands up. “Men and their pride.” She turned toward Rachel. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into him. I give up.”

  “I have found it is hard for some men to admit they may be wrong. Pride is a convenient excuse for them.” Rachel shifted her sleeping baby in her arms. “I need to put Faith down.”

  Sarah removed her hat. “I will come with you.”

  The women disappeared into his bedchamber. Nathan poured the batter into the pans and put them into the brick oven next to the fireplace then checked on the rising bread dough. He quaked from trying to hold in his intense emotions. They demanded release.

  Sarah was asking too much of him. He had loved his grandfather, but the stubborn old man had turned him away from Pinecrest merely because he had not wanted to be a planter but a physician. He had tried to do his duty to the family and take his father’s place after he died, but his heart had not been in it, especially when his grandfather sent his mother away.

  He listened to his sister and Rachel chattering in the other room as though everything were normal. It was not. Guilt ate at him, just as Sarah knew it would. Even though his grandfather wanted nothing to do with him, he knew he would end up at Pinecrest. As much as he wished he could turn his back on his grandfather, he could not.

  The walls of his cabin pressed in on him. He strode to the door and stepped outside. To the left, near the stream and down the slope, Maddy labored to wash the clothes. Sarah’s driver strolled toward Rachel’s maid and spoke to her. Maddy smiled up at Moses, a husky, muscular black man in his late thirties who had been working for the McNeal family most of his life. Trustworthy and protective of Sarah. His brother-in-law would not let her gallivant all over the countryside without Moses. But knowing his sister, she probably did not inform John that she had left Charleston.

  Stubborn women. That described his sister—and Rachel.

  The sun beat down upon Nathan as he rode toward Pinecrest. Nearing his childhood home, he spurred his horse faster. He did not want to be away from Rachel, Faith, and Maddy too long. They were safe on his land, next to Liberty Hall, because no one would cross John McNeal, but Nathan hated leaving them alone. When Sarah had invited Rachel to stay at Liberty Hall while he was gone, he had tried to persuade her to go, but she had insisted on staying where she was and practicing what he had taught her. He hoped not to be gone long—certainly not overnight. He wasn’t even sure his grandfather would let him inside.

  The large, two-story house loomed before him. He paused at the edge of the forest that surrounded his childhood home. Sunlight made the bricks seem as though they were on fire. The veranda, with tall white columns standing sentinel, ran the length of the front of the house. A once lush garden on the left remained a jungle because only his mother had kept it up. When she had left and gone back to her family in England five years before, his grandfather had ignored the myriad flowers as he had refused to mention Nathan’s mother’s name. That was the beginning of the end of his relationship with his grandfather.

  Determinedly shutting the lid on his memories, Nathan prodded his horse forward. Dread encased him in a fine sheen of sweat. When he mounted the steps to the front door, he almost spun on his boot heel and left. But he had ridden for over an hour to appease his sister and to reassure her—no, himself—that his grandfather was as healthy as he had always been.

  Patrick opened the door before Nathan had a chance to knock. “I saw you coming from the bedchamber window upstairs.”

  “His room?”

  “Yes, I haven’t wanted to leave his side.”

  Nathan studied his younger brother’s unshaven face. His brown eyes were dull, his blond hair a mess, as if he had run his hand through it again and again. “You are worried?”

  Patrick nodded. “He hasn’t eaten in days. He has a fever. He sleeps most of the time. Grandfather is usually up with the sun and does not go to bed until well after the sun has gone down.”

  “Has he seen a doctor?”

  “Dr. Ellsworth came the other day and bled him. Grandfather has gotten worse since the doctor left. He has little strength even to talk when he is awake. I don’t want that quack seeing him again.”

  “I will see what I can do, but I may not be able to help him. He is seventy-five years old.” It wasn’t until he said his grandfather’s age out loud that Nathan realized how old he really was. Grandfather had always been so invincible to Nathan. The thought that he wasn’t did not settle well with him. It would be so much easier if he could hate the old man—less painful. But snippets of his past always intruded. The time Grandfather taught him how to fish. Or the first time he rode with Grandfather across Pinecrest land.

  “Please take a look at him.” Patrick, five years younger than Nathan, headed for the stairs.

  “He may not see me.”

  “You have to try. I don’t know what else to do.”

  The plea in Patrick’s eyes scared him. Perhaps this was worse than he thought. A world without his grandfather seemed inconceivable, even if the old man wasn’t talking to him. “Fine. I will do what he will allow me to do.”

  He followed Patrick to their grandfather’s bedchamber. The drapes were open and light poured into the room, but the air smelled of sickness. Nathan took one look at the shrunken figure in the large bed, and his worry intensified. There was not anything invincib
le about the man lying there, still, his eyes closed. Lines of age carved deep into his grandfather’s craggy features, almost all the color gone from his face.

  Nathan inhaled a deep breath to ease the contraction about his chest. He moved to the bed and put his bag of medicines on the table next to it.

  When he lifted his grandfather’s hand, the old man’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment he did not seem to recognize Nathan. Then a light dawned in his eyes. He slipped his fingers from Nathan’s grasp. The action only increased Nathan’s concern. In the past his grandfather would have yanked his hand away, with anger immediately invading his expression. The frown finally appeared, but slowly, as though Grandfather did not have the strength to be fully mad at him.

  “Leave,” his grandfather whispered, a touch of fury behind the one weak-sounding word.

  “I will leave when you can get up and make me.”

  The old man tried to rise and fell back the few inches he had managed. “I will—soon.” Coughs racked his body.

  Nathan laid his palm on his grandfather’s forehead. Heat burned into his hand. “As soon as I get you well, you can personally throw me off this land.”

  The old man’s eyes closed, and he did not reply to the challenge. That worried him more than anything else. His grandfather never let anyone get the last word in, especially his disowned grandson. Nathan went to his bag and searched for the chamomile and feverfew. As he treated Grandfather, the powerlessness he had experienced in the war when caring for wounded soldiers mantled his shoulders as if hundreds of pounds pressed down on him.

  His hands shook as memories assaulted him. The echoes of the soldiers’ screams rang in his mind like a death toll. He had tried to help many men—some lived, more died. He had become a physician to save lives and ease the suffering. He had failed with his father and Eliza and her child. The sense that he could not help them had been confirmed during the war.

  Nathan assisted his grandfather to sit up so he could sip the brew he had mixed for him. Nathan’s determination hardened. He had already lost too many people he cared about. He would not lose his grandfather.

  Five

  A knock sounded at the cabin door. Rachel jumped and gasped. Maddy’s eyes widened, and she scanned the main room as if she were searching for a place to hide. As Rachel moved toward the front window to see if she could spy who was outside, another rap filled the cabin. Although the noise was not that loud, Faith started crying in the other room.

  “I will get the baby.” Maddy scurried into the bedchamber.

  Rachel peeked outside and glimpsed a tall, thin man, dressed in black pantaloons and tailcoat with a tan vest and boots. He reminded her of a gentleman she would have seen on the streets of London. Beneath his black top hat that partially shadowed his face, she saw a strong jawline and a cleft in this stranger’s chin. Both features reminded her of Nathan.

  His brother?

  When the man turned away to leave, she caught a better look at his face—a kind one that resembled her benefactor. Is something wrong? She hastened to the door and opened it when the man was halfway to his carriage.

  “May I help you?” she asked in a breathless rush.

  He swung around and faced her, removing his hat. “I’m Patrick Stuart, Nathan’s brother. He has sent me to bring you to Pinecrest.”

  The solemn lines on his face prompted her to ask, “Is his grandfather well?”

  “With my brother tending him, he will be. But Nathan cannot leave his side right now and he didn’t want you to stay alone here overnight. I have brought the carriage.” He waved his hand toward it on the road down the incline. “He told me you have a baby and a maid accompanying you.”

  “Yes, but we are perfectly fine here by ourselves.” As she spoke, she took in the forest nearby with the dark shadows of evening beginning to lengthen over the terrain. A bird flew overhead, screeching, declaring her foolishness in remaining in a strange place with night approaching.

  “I cannot leave you alone. Nathan would never forgive me if I did. Please. I’m worried about my grandfather and need to be at Pinecrest, but I will stay if you do.”

  The gentle threat made up Rachel’s mind. “Very well. We shall go with you. Let me get Faith and Maddy.”

  “Thank you for understanding, Mrs. Gordon.”

  Thirty minutes later, Rachel sat beside Nathan’s brother while in back Maddy held Faith, who had fed before they left and returned to sleep. “How far is Pinecrest?”

  “An hour and a half by carriage.”

  While night settled over the landscape, lanterns on the sides of the chaise afforded some light. Apprehension blanketed Rachel as the dark did the forest. Nathan and his grandfather were estranged. She didn’t feel comfortable going to his plantation, uninvited by the older man.

  As Patrick handled the team of two horses pulling the carriage, he glanced her way. “Nathan explained your situation.”

  “I am indebted to your brother for helping me. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t come along when he did.”

  “The Lord provides.”

  “Yes, He does.” That was the only thing she had to count on at the moment. If she stopped to think about her future, fear took over. She could not afford that. Fear would weaken her, and she needed all her strength in the days to come.

  By the time Patrick Stuart pulled up in front of a massive house, Rachel’s shoulders slumped from the trip over a road rutted from the recent rains. Nathan’s brother had apologized for the rough ride. Maddy had managed to keep Faith calm in the back, although once a large bump had aroused her daughter from sleep for a moment.

  Mr. Stuart jumped down from the seat and assisted Rachel to the ground. Then, she took Faith from Maddy while he offered her maid his hand. Soft light streamed from the large house. The front door swung open, and Nathan came out, carrying a lantern, followed by a servant who took care of the horses and carriage.

  “I was worried something might have happened to you all on the road.” Nathan’s gaze swept from Rachel to his brother. “No sign of trouble?”

  “No. It took longer than I anticipated.”

  “Faith was hungry. I fed her before we started the journey.” In the glow of the oil lamp, the sober lines on Nathan’s countenance concerned Rachel. Was it his grandfather’s health or something else that put that expression on his face?

  “How is Grandfather?” Mr. Stuart carried in the bag of clothing Maddy had packed.

  “He’s sleeping more comfortably now. His breathing sounds better.”

  “Good.” Nathan’s brother paused on the threshold and shifted toward Rachel. “I will show you to your room.”

  She transferred Faith to Maddy. “I need to speak with Dr. Stuart. I will be there shortly.”

  As Maddy entered the house with Faith, Mr. Stuart peered back and said, “I am putting them in the Rose Suite.”

  Nathan nodded to his brother. When they were alone, he turned to Rachel. “Is there something wrong?”

  “I was going to ask you that very question.”

  “I am perfectly fine and will be even better when I can get back to my home.” As he said the last word, his gaze swept the façade of the house.

  The brief longing she glimpsed in his eyes formed a bond between them. She wanted to go back home to Mansfield Manor, to talk with her mother about Faith, to feel her love, to listen to her advice about child rearing. But that was not going to happen. When Nathan returned his attention to her, all evidence of that look vanished, to be replaced with a stern one. “It didn’t go well with your grandfather?”

  “If you enjoy wrestling a bear, then everything went fine. The first word out of his mouth to me was ‘leave.’” Although Nathan scowled, his tone conveyed more hurt than anger.

  She laid her hand on his arm. “I am sorry about that. Obviously he changed his mind. You are here.”

  “Only because he didn’t have the strength to personally kick me off his land.”

  “Is he le
tting you tend to him?”

  “Yes. Barely. Fighting me as much as he can.”

  “Which is what concerns you?”

  “He’s not the man I saw six months ago.”

  “Perhaps your grandfather is like my papa. He is the worst patient. He does not want anyone to know if he isn’t feeling well. He sees sickness as a sign of weakness.”

  “The same. Grandfather has never understood why healing people is important to me, and yet when a horse or one of his dogs becomes ill, he tends to them personally until they recover.”

  “Probably because you are not doing what he wanted.” The same reason she was in this predicament right now. She refused to follow her father’s plan for her future. She thought she knew best.

  “Probably.” He turned toward the front door still standing open. “Let’s go in. I know it has been a long day for the both of us.”

  When she entered the house, the foyer spoke of the Stuart family’s wealth. Highly polished wood gleamed in the soft lighting of the interior. The richly ornate carpet beneath her feet matched some of the ones she had seen in the houses of the peers of the realm. Portraits in gilded frames adorned the walls as she climbed the curving staircase to the second floor.

  Nathan gestured toward the last picture at the top. “That’s my father.”

  She paused and studied it for a moment. The young man had blond hair like Nathan’s brother and sister and the same kind, dark brown eyes as well. His smile made her feel welcomed to Pinecrest. She looked to the right at the one before his father’s. “Is this your grandfather?”

  “Yes.”

  The same kind eyes as his son’s contradicted what she had heard about the man. What happened to change him? “When was this painted?”

  “Each one was done when the eldest son was about thirty.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “So yours should be up there.”

  “It had been commissioned when”—Nathan swallowed hard—“when my father died and everything changed.”

  The heaviness in her heart swelled into her throat. “It was not done?”