The Hour Before Dawn
The dominie from Oxford sat in one of the upholstered chairs before Lord Dunsmore's desk. A glass of fine sherry was lightly held in his hand as he and his host discussed Edmund's progress. The Earl wore a look of frustration on his face as the discussion continued.
"His marks are acceptably high, except for the mathematics courses. He seems to excel in both language and history. His athletics courses all report advanced athletic ability and a healthy sense of competition. His deportment is not the best. He has always been obstinate and confrontational but compliant if somewhat reluctantly so. I do not understand the nature of your visit, sir."
"He also excels in music, Lord Dunsmore. He has been gifted with a truly exceptional voice. It is warm and deep, capable of conveying great emotion. The range is remarkable. You have heard him in one of the many oratorios performed this past year at the chapel?"
From the expression on his host's face the vicar could tell that the man had never heard his son's magnificent singing voice. And did not care.
The vicar's face was carefully bland but behind his eyes his mind was working. He was beginning to get a glimpse into the reason for Kerr Murray's depression. Lord Dunsmore was like many of his peers. His expectations stemmed from his sense of obligation, not from a genuine concern for his son's welfare. The dominie had seen many such men. He sipped his wine and carefully chose his words.
"Lord Dunsmore, I have no complaints against your son. I have concerns. He has been a guest in my home several times, and is a frequent visitor to my office at the college. His manners are impeccable. His conversation is always carefully controlled. But I perceive a deep turmoil in his spirit. It is not uncommon in a youth his age. It can be a sign of impending trouble, however. I simply want you to be forewarned so that you may act accordingly."
"You may be assured of that, sir. I will have a conversation with Edmund. I will send my coach for him this evening. He will overcome this 'turmoil', as you name it. He is progressing academically and he will progress spiritually as well. You have my assurance. Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention." Lord Dunsmore rose and extended his soft hand to the man across his heavy desk. "Please excuse me but I have an engagement soon in another part of the city."
Vicar Cushing rose and accepted the handshake. He finished his glass of sherry and departed the library of his host. The hall echoed with his footsteps as Joseph escorted him to the front door and handed the dominie his hat and cape. Sighing as he contemplated his lack of success, the slight man walked over the threshold and into the waiting coach.
Inside the library Lord Dunsmore gritted his teeth and downed another glass of sherry. He instructed Joseph to send Henry and the small carriage to Oxford to capture his son and return him to the house. He also instructed Joseph to call for his closed coach immediately and then climbed the wide stairs. He called for his valet Morris to help him dress for his audience with Sir James Alford concerning the betrothal of their two children. His mind worked on composing the best argument that he could construct.
Two days later Edmund waited in his cold dark room. Emma had lighted the candle and brought him fresh water and clean towels. He extinguished the candle, preferring the darkness. It was easier to hide in the darkness, though over the years, like his mother's stone, he had become very good at hiding in plain sight. He had learned to control his facial expressions and to a large extent his expressive eyes as well. He had become a gifted actor. His chosen weapon against the world was his biting words, full of venom and judgment.
He could be warm and charming with those whom he trusted, but these men were few. Calvin Cushing remained his closest friend. The youth was sedate and naturally moral. Like Edmund he shrank from obscenity and all coarseness. Together the two young men tried to find their way in the rowdy and somewhat promiscuous company of their peers.
He heard the heavy front door open and knew that his father had arrived. He could also hear the downstairs maid Evelyn setting the table for them. Two sets of plates and bowls, glasses and tableware. A large expanse of dark wood between them. A silver candelabra in the center throwing light upon the two carefully controlled faces. Silence pounding in their ears. Sighing, Edmund turned from the window and crossed the floor as the summons echoed off of the dark paneled walls.
His father was standing before the fireplace with a snifter of brandy in his hand. From the slight unsteadiness in that hand Edmund surmised that this snifter was not the first and probably his father was well on the way to being intoxicated. Lord Dunsmore became even more morose and bitter when he had taken too much alcohol.
Edmund had quickly learned that the best course was to pretend compliance and then dismiss the entire discourse. His father would not remember tomorrow and he could also forget the argument. Except for the damage done to his sensitive soul.
Standing just inside the library door he waited for his father's tirade to begin. He had known as soon as Henry entered his Oxford room that a confrontation was imminent. He quickly reviewed his behavior over the preceding weeks and come to the conclusion that the cause of the summons was unknown to him.
He cleared his throat to make his presence known. His father stiffened his spine and slowly turned to face him. Edmund was startled at the pallid mask that stared back at him. His eyes widened in surprise before he could bring the expression under control. His father saw the widening and a humorless smile lifted his full lips. He downed the brandy and poured another large amount into the snifter.
"Come in, my son. Sit down. Here." Lord Dunsmore pulled a chair out of position and indicated that his son sit there. Isolated from its fellows it now resembled a chair of inquisition. All of Edmund's defenses were alerted and he carefully sat on the edge of the chair watching his father suspiciously.
The older man circled his son, continuing to sip the brandy as his eyes focused on the tall youth who grasped the chair's arms nervously. Again he smiled the humorless smile and the hair on Edmund's neck rose with fright. In the firelight his father looked menacing and powerful. His quiet deliberative manner unsettled the youth as familiar raving would not have done.
"I entertained a friend of yours." Edmund's eyes flickered and Lord Dunsmore's full lips lifted in a sneer. His entire body exuded power. "The Vicar Cushing. Apparently you and his son are intimate. You have been a guest in his house. He reported that you conducted yourself in an acceptable manner. However, he seems to believe that you are in "spiritual turmoil", as he put it. Are you?"
Edmund knew that his father was asking the question rhetorically and had no genuine interest in his spiritual agonies. So his answer was equally superficial. "I have asked questions concerning Anglican doctrine. My philosophy master assigned the class a paper asking us to compare and contrast the Anglican teaching with another denomination. I simply sought information for that assignment." His eyes did not betray any deeper reason for his questions and his father's face relayed his acceptance of the answer given.
John Murray finished the snifter of brandy in his hand and walked unsteadily to the decanter. He poured another large amount into the glass, carelessly splashing droplets onto the polished surface of the side table. Edmund watched worriedly. He knew that the inquisition was not over and that the real reason for the summons was now to begin.
His father slowly turned to face his son. He took another swallow of the brandy. When he spoke his words were slightly slurred as the large amount of alcohol he had consumed coursed through his system. "I saw James Alford at the end of last week. He is not anxious to accept a betrothal between you and his daughter Guinevere. He is concerned about your, shall we say, unusual parentage? "
Edmund kept his face carefully bland but he could not keep the flicker of fire from his large dark eyes. His father saw the flash and grinned crookedly. Cruelly he pursued his course.
"He is leery of having mixed-blood grandchildren. He feels that he needs to protect his daughter from your, shall we say, corruption? She has expressed her reservations about allowing intimacies from one so, ah, dark?" Here the drunken man looked pointedly at his son's face, letting his gaze fall upon his thick black hair then drop to the brown hands gripping the chair arms.
At his father's look Edmund relaxed his grip and continued to keep his face carefully bland. His eyes flamed with the insults. His lips curled in satisfaction, the Earl drained the brandy and staggered back to the decanter on the side table. Much of the brandy splashed onto the white table covering and stained the cloth a dark bloody red.
"But we did come to an agreement. At the Oxford ball this year you will be her escort. The betrothal will be announced a week later. It is time that you make the connections to assume your position. You have been a youth long enough. You must become a man. Your graduation from Oxford in a few weeks is assured. I have engaged a tutor to instruct you in the proper etiquette required of an escort to a lady of breeding, such as Miss Alford. I've also engaged a dance instructor. You will be tutored in your room at Oxford every Thursday after the evening meal. The tutors will report your progress to me. Do you understand?"
Edmund silently nodded. Guinevere Alford was a lily white doll. All her life she had been prepared to become the wife of a man with equally high-placed connections. Her parents reflected this ambition as they purposefully named her after the queen in the Arthurian legends. Many of Edmund's peers secretly planned to claim her as their prize.
Though he had seen her from a distance a number of times and actually met her after the Christmas service the previous year he was not favorably impressed. Deep inside his heart he trembled at the thought of being forced to marry her and spend his life bound to the shallow, self-absorbed and haughty woman.
He raised his gaze to meet his father's eyes and saw that the older man was trembling. Clenching his jaw, the Earl carefully walked to the library door. He leaned to one side as the alcohol impaired his nervous system. Edmund watched as he reached for the library's sliding doors and missed the catch.
With a shaking hand his father tried again and successfully pulled the heavy oak doors open enough to pass through. He turned his tall body to the side and slipped through the narrow opening, staggering and nearly falling as his heavy coat impeded his motion. Safely through he leaned on Joseph's arm and entered the dining room. Edmund followed slowly behind his father and reluctantly entered the dining room to face his father's drunken silence over the polished walnut table.
Edmund easily learned all the manners needed to perform to expectations. His dance instructor was pleased at his natural grace and his etiquette tutor was equally pleased. The reports that filtered to his father left no reason for displeasure and Edmund prepared himself for the trial to come on the first of May.
He was measured and fitted for a stunning costume. He stood patiently as the cloth was marked and pinned to flatter his tall, slender frame. He endured the endless parade of embellishments as his father chose the items calculated to display his son in the best possible light. He felt like a courtesan being prepared for the highest bidder but hid his true feelings behind a mask of controlled blandness. The men fluttering about him considered his behavior to be typical for one of his class and made no comment.
Henry dressed him on the evening of May first and as he descended the staircase in his father's house the entire household stood to express their admiration for his splendor. In his heart he was writhing in embarrassment and outrage but his face betrayed no trace of his true feelings.
The deep royal blue coat fit his body perfectly and his naturally graceful way of walking set the tail of the coat to swaying with a calculated attractiveness. His shirt was a snowy white silk and the lace-trimmed stock spilled below his throat and over his upper chest. It was held in place by a large cushion-cut blue sapphire. His brocade waistcoat was a sky blue color.
His legs were covered by a darker blue velour and his finely shaped calves were encased in white silken hose. His black patent leather shoes shone and the buckles gleamed. His short black hair had been brushed and dressed and it shone in the dim light. He looked every inch the pampered son of an English lord. He hated it. But deep inside his heart where no one could ever see he was Caramingo of the Cherokee, and he was keeping his promise to survive.
Inside the coach John Murray left no doubt of his expectations. The performance was already scripted and all the puppet was expected to do was to dance to the pull of the strings. The puppet's dead eyes relayed nothing but compliance. The Earl sighed in relief.
Edmund Kerr Murray entered the ballroom with all the careful insouciance expected of a member of his class. His head was raised and his dark eyes reflected no emotion other than haughtiness. His gloved hands were relaxed at his sides. He walked gracefully beside his resplendent father.
Coming through the throng was a thin man dressed entirely in wine velour. Beside him was his doll-like daughter Guinevere. She was dressed in a sky blue silk carefully chosen to compliment Edmund's costume. The element of farce was not lost upon John Murray's son and he choked back an unexpected desire to laugh. His graceful bow brought gasps from several nearby young ladies who immediately blushed various shades of red at their unladylike responses. Donning his carefully practiced persona, the tall young man lightly lifted Miss Alford's right hand and brought it to his lips.
James Alford proudly introduced his daughter to the son of Lord Dunsmore. Edmund looked down into Guinevere's light blue eyes and gave her a practiced smile. She responded with a practiced smile of her own. Again Edmund choked back a laugh. The performance was proceeding perfectly. Both fathers beamed their approval. The orchestra began a reel.
"Shall we dance, Miss Alford?" Edmund extended his gloved hand and Guinevere placed her child-sized hand in his. The two glided onto the dance floor and disappeared into the swirl of dancers. Both John Murray and James Alford retired to the refreshments to further discuss the time of the betrothal announcement. On the dance floor the two young people continued to play their parts.
Edmund danced with relaxed ease. His partner had also been well taught but the disparity in their heights made the first few steps difficult as they had to adjust their steps to match. Then the music took them and the rhythm naturally flowed through Edmund's body. They were soon being watched by the entire company.
Several of Edmund's schoolmates wore uncomfortable looks of envy and despair. Many young ladies wore the same looks until their tutoring forced their faces into careful blandness. At the edge of the room some of the older members of the group glanced at each other and nodded. Many others looked at each other with outrage at the spectacle of blonde, petite Guinevere Alford in the arms of the tall half-breed bastard of John Murray.
None of the expressions were lost on Edmund Murray. He hated, always, to be the center of attention. His nature was to be self-deprecating and humble. He steeled himself and pushed the uncomfortable emotions deep into his secret heart. As he moved around the dance floor he tried to keep his attention on his tiny partner and the smile painted on her face like the smile of a china doll. There was no humor in her light blue eyes, no affection for him. Only an awareness of the audiences' attentiveness and her father's approval. A chill passed through his body at her cold and calculating heart.
When the dance ended he bowed to Guinevere and escorted her to one of the fine chairs placed around the room. As she daintily sat down he volunteered to bring her a glass of punch. When she nodded her assent he gratefully left her side and proceeded to the refreshment table. On his way he happened to meet the eyes of a tall, mousy girl who blushed scarlet as he passed. His lips curled as an idea entered his mind. He carefully took a glass of punch and turned. As he passed the girl he stopped and faced her.
"Would you care to dance the next reel with me?" he asked.
The uncomfortable girl raised shocked light brown eyes to his face. The blush deepened as she gave her answer. "Yes," she whispered.
Edmund gave her a sunny smile and replied, "I shall return when the music begins. Miss...?"
"Stanley. Beatrice Stanley." So this was the girl that his schoolmates called Beast, cruelly using her name against her. She was not beautiful or accomplished but her father was a very successful cotton merchant and her inheritance would be sizeable. Edmund smiled.
"Miss Stanley." Edmund gave her a slight bow and continued to Guinevere's side where he found her being entertained by a schoolmate, Peter Collins. He gave her the punch and remained standing quietly by her side until the orchestra began to play another reel. Then he bowed, excused himself, and stepped to Beatrice Stanley's side.
The tall girl was dressed most unbecomingly in a yellowish green gown that hung on her thin frame and did not complement her skin, eyes or hair. She wore a large necklace of blood-red garnets that did not match the gown in any way. Her gloved hands were damp with nervousness and Edmund secretly cringed as he took her onto the dance floor. But the outraged look on his father's face fueled his rebellion and he swept her into the reel.
She was a poor dancer but Edmund was so skilled that she began to relax and enjoy the feel of his hands as they held hers. She gathered her courage and gazed at his handsome face and large dark eyes. A totally unfamiliar warmth spread over her body. She gasped in surprise. When the reel ended and he placed his hand on her elbow to guide her to her seat she quivered with unexpected emotion. He left her with a graceful bow as she sat fanning herself with more than affectation.
Edmund quickly wove his way through the crowd to the side of Anora Masterson. Joey's sister was a year younger and had the same sunny personality that Joey had displayed. Edmund had met her the one time that he had been invited for the weekend at Joey's house the autumn before his violent death. He liked her and she felt the same.
He bowed and extended his hand. She looked into his eyes and smiled, then rose to accompany him to the dance floor. Though not much taller than Guinevere, she matched Edmund's steps easily and they twirled pleasantly around the floor. Her smile was genuine and her blue eyes, so like Joey's, sparkled with joy and humor as his had done. Edmund's dark eyes began to sparkle too. As the dance ended and he escorted her off the floor he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. His father's grip brooked no resistance. Edmund followed his father as discreetly as possible from the ballroom and into a small alcove.
Standing so close that his alcohol-tinged breath fanned Edmund's black hair the Earl of Dunsmore berated his son. His voice was low but the biting words stung as they were meant to do. Though not unexpected the vehemence caused Edmund to blush in anger. His hands clenched into fists. When he parted his lips to defend himself the Earl slapped him into silence.
"Now get back onto that dance floor with Miss Alford. Your conduct is verifying all the negative opinions held by many in this room. Your reputation is being ruined and all of my connections cannot repair the damage if you continue in this outrageous manner! Your entire future is at stake."
"Yes, I agree, it is." Edmund pushed past his father into the hall. He overheard part of a conversation as he passed the partially opened doors into the garden. He caught his name and silently slipped behind a tall topiary beside the door. There he listened to the two men whose voices were low and confidential.
"Murray has made a careful match there, though, Timmons."
"I agree, it is a brilliant move. But I object to his lack of conscience. I understand that he wants to preserve his family's hold on the title. He should have thought of that before he produced the bastard. The boy just is not suitable for the honor. He's part Indian, for heaven's sake!"
"I counseled Murray years ago to marry Julianna Stapleton. No one knew about the little bastard at that time. Her father pressed for the match. But Murray would have none of it. He could have had an acceptable son or two by now and assured the succession. "
There was silence as the two men sipped their brandy. Edmund stood behind the evergreen clenching his jaw and digging his balled fists into his upper thighs. The hot blood of anger and dishonor flooded his face. He forced his breathing to steady before the men could hear his rapid breathing.
"I think that he always felt somehow unworthy of an English wife after he returned from the colonies. Of course he knew about the boy. That may be the reason. But he could have completely forgotten about the little savage instead of dragging him here to live among us like he was an equal."
"The boy is very bright though. My son is the same age and reports that Kerr, that's what he calls himself at Oxford, is near the top of every class except mathematics. And he is the top scholar in the classics. His philosophy master is impressed by his grasp of the subject though somewhat dismayed at his irreverent attitude. He writes exceptionally well. He is an excellent fencer, plays top-notch cricket, rides well, shoots well, seems to be a natural athlete."
Here the two men chuckled. "What you'd expect from a wild savage, Randolph. I wonder if he scalped anyone before Murray dragged him onto the ship? And I've always wondered how Dunsmore managed to get him to wear clothes! " The men laughed again. Behind the topiary Edmund ground his teeth together in rage.
"Well Timmons, I once saw a circus that had trained monkeys. If you can train a monkey to wear clothes, you ought to be able to train a savage!"
Edmund stood silently behind the door as the men continued to laugh. He could no longer remain hidden. The desire to rush at the two men and strike them over and over caused him to shake uncontrollably. He ducked into the small alcove that his father had vacated and willed his breathing to slow. As he stood in the shadows he became aware of another conversation in the hall. Reluctantly he listened to the words.
"James Alford just received word today that his new shipment safely reached the colonies. He lost only twenty percent in this crossing and stands to make a substantial profit."
"He has three ships in the trade doesn't he?"
"Yes, one for each leg of the triangle."
"Canny businessman, James Alford. His daughter and that Murray boy will have an easy life. Ironic that a savage should live in ease on the backs of niggers, though. Quite a coup for John Murray."
Edmund stood rigid behind the damask curtains of the alcove. He could hear the music from the ballroom and the happy voices through the wall. Slaves! James Alford enriched himself and his precociously named daughter through the despair and death of enslaved men, women and children. It was unbearable! And his father not only knew but approved.
That knowledge sent the young Cherokee man spiraling down into a well of despair. He stripped the beautiful blue coat from his tall body and flung it onto the floor. He pulled the sapphire pin from the lacy stock and dropped it beside the coat. The silken stock followed. The sky blue waistcoat fell from his limp hand. The buckled patent leather shoes were kicked from his slender feet and the silk stockings wadded into balls and stuffed into the shoes.
Barefooted and stripped to as little clothing as modesty demanded Edmund Kerr Murray strode through the garden doors, passed the two surprised gentlemen still discussing his parentage and disappeared into the damp English darkness.
An hour later John Murray, Earl of Dunsmore, found his escaped son in his Oxford room. When Robert Timmons came to him and told him of the young man's headlong flight in his nearly naked condition, Lord Dunsmore noticeably paled. A butler came into the ballroom with Edmund's cast off clothing that had been found in the hall alcove. Numb with embarrassment and shame the Earl thoughtlessly took the articles. Then he turned and walked out the front door, the sound of whispers spreading all around him.
Edmund was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the dark room. His feet were cut and bleeding. His breathing was normal but his mind whirled with the words that he had overheard. The deep wounds the conversations inflicted sapped his strength. He was trying to think, but his mind was too weary. Midnight had passed and the night was winging toward the dawn. He felt himself carried by the fleeing minutes down a path still unseen, unable to resist.
He heard heavy footsteps coming down the corridor. Swaying on his feet his father stood in the open doorway. The tall man stepped into the room and closed the door. The pale moonlight did not provide enough light for the two men to see each other's faces so the conversation had the unreal quality of a nightmare.
"Why, Edmund? Give me an answer and I will leave you to your darkness."
"Because of what I am, and what you cannot accept. Because of what you are. Because of what you are trying to make of me. Because of James Alford and his little princess."
"I worked very hard to arrange that marriage for you. And you have thrown the offering back into my face. Why?"
"I have reasons."
In the darkness Edmund could hear his father's breathing. He could tell that the older man had consumed too much alcohol and was having difficulty standing. Rising in the darkness Edmund placed his desk chair beside his father and moved away before the older man could touch him. The silence continued as John Murray sank into the chair with a groan.
The slow minutes passed. Edmund continued to sit on the floor. Finally, Lord Dunsmore spoke into the stillness. "Stay here with me."
There was a trace of longing in the voice, as though the man had begun to understand that he had lost his son forever. The knowledge that his father needed him made Edmund catch his breath with a quick rush of emotion. Then the rational part of his mind took control. He realized that the need would be fleeting and denied as soon as the alcohol was released from his father's system. There could be no closeness between them, ever.
In the silence Edmund heard his father's ragged breathing. He would need help getting to bed. Quietly rising, Edmund stepped around his father and into the hall. He returned thirty minutes later with Morris. Together the two men were able to walk Lord Dunsmore down the dark hall, across the grounds and into his bedroom. There Edmund left his father muttering incoherently in Morris' familiar care.
Edmund Kerr Murray graduated with honors from Oxford four weeks later. He embraced Calvin Cushing in a final farewell and followed Henry down the stairs for the last time. In his mind he could hear Joey Masterson's bubbling laugh.
The commons teemed with young men and their families. Several waved and Kerr Murray waved back for the last time. Vicar Cushing stepped forward and shook his dark slender hand. The dominie's light brown eyes held Edmund's for many seconds. Then he released the young man's hand and nodded.
The coach ride back to Lord Dunsmore's house was easy. Edmund entered the silent dark house and began to climb the wide staircase. The library doors opened and John Murray stepped into the hall. "Edmund, a moment, if you please."
The tall dark man stopped on the stairs, bowed his head for several seconds, then turned and descended the stairway. He entered the library and found his father staring out of the tall windows onto the sunny garden. On the polished desk rested the speckled rock.
As Edmund stood waiting, the Earl of Dunsmore slowly turned to face his son. He held out a thin envelope to Edmund. "A small remuneration for your journey. A gift. Please take it."
Edmund carefully took the envelope from his father's hand. "Thank you, sir."
The Earl swallowed and sat at his desk, his hands gently caressing one another. The gesture was familiar to the son. He had often remarked to himself that his father, having no one else to love, loved himself very well. Now the gesture seemed pathetic. He fought the sigh that lifted his chest.
"The ceremony was impressive. You sang beautifully."
"You were there?" Edmund's voice registered surprise.
"I was. It is not every day that a man has a son graduate with honors from Oxford."
The two men faced each other and the habit of silence limited their interaction. Both could feel the distress of the other but neither could address or acknowledge the emotion.
"You did yourself proud, Edmund. You have an education that no one can ever take from you. I understand from Emma and Henry that you are nearly packed and ready to leave. You have taken all of your books? Do you have your favorites from this library?"
Edmund nodded and remained silent. He had taken nothing else from the house where he had spent nearly ten years of his life. It remained as he had found it. It was as though he had never been there at all.
"Will you tell me where you are bound? Will I ever know that you are safe, that you are content?"
"I am returning to my home. If you wish, I will send a letter from Philadelphia. That is all that I know now. I am seeking my heritage, that which I know in my heart I am fitted to receive. I never was at home here. I think that you know that, if you will admit it." Edmund's dark eyes searched his father's. Their icy blue color displayed little emotion, but in the depths Edmund could see the anguish that his father kept severely under control.
Sighing, the young Cherokee thought of how different their lives could have been if his father had overcome the press of duty and obligation. He was grateful that though wounded, he had not been crushed by the same duty. A feeling of freedom began to grow deep in his heart. His dark eyes began to glow.
John Murray saw the glow and felt the pain of the parting. Because of the path he had chosen years ago his son would never know the love of his father. He had robbed them both. Now he must face his slow decline into old age, alone. The title that he had worked so diligently all his life to preserve would go to his nephew, not his son. And in the wilds of Kentucky that son would live his life, forever apart from his father's life. They would not write. There was no connection to maintain. It was an accident of birth, and that was all.
In his mind Lord Dunsmore traveled back the more than twenty years to see himself as he strode confidently across the wild, untamed wilderness and saw for the first time a slim Indian woman with a small boy at her side. Talota. How like her Edmund looked! The Kentucky breeze ruffled his coppery red hair and the pretty young woman looked at him with curious dark eyes. Then it all began.
The Earl closed his eyes. He could hear his son breathing softly. Reaching out, he took the speckled rock in his hand and ran his fingers over the smooth surface. He opened his eyes and reached his closed hand across the desk to his son. When Edmund lifted his dark hand, Lord Dunsmore released the rock and it fell soundlessly into his son's palm. His blue eyes locked for the last time onto his son's dark brown, and then he waved his hand, finally releasing his son from the long years of captivity.