Surrender the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page A

opened, he was shown inside Stowefield's office, a room with large mullioned windows, where the sunlight seeped through the draperies. Stowefield sat at his desk dozing, his steel spectacles low on the bridge of his nose. His hair, a mass of gray locks, matched a pair of bushy eyebrows. His housekeeper nudged him on the shoulder and he shook and sputtered awake.
    “What is it, Partridge?”
    Seth waited inside the doorway. He smiled at the pronouncement of the woman's name. She resembled the bird, with her tiny eyes and spherical face, stout neck and body, the way her arms hung away from her sides when she walked.
    “Mr. Braxton here to see you.” Partridge folded her hands over her apron. “You must rise from your nap.”
    “Braxton, you say? Well good.” Stowefield shifted in his Windsor chair. It creaked beneath his weight. “Bring us coffee, Partridge. Make it strong.”
    With a quick jerk of her head, Partridge turned. “I’ll make the best coffee for you, sir.”
    Stowefield let out a heavy sigh. “You see, Mr. Braxton? Whenever a handsome face new to Partridge comes to my house, she's flustered. I promise, the tray she brings will be more substantial than my usual coffee and buttered bread.”
    Hat in hand, Seth stepped forward and extended his hand. He had no riding gloves, and frowned a moment at the red chafing over his knuckles made so by the leather reins. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time, sir. It's late in the day.”
    Stowefield stood to shake Seth's hand. “Aye, ’tis late, but too early to doze off at one's desk. Makes one look the sluggard at his trade. I stayed up late last night playing Whist with a client. Sinful, I know, and I should repent of it.”
    “Whist, sir?”
    Stowefield smiled and his eyes enlarged. “Yes, Whist. Do you play?”
    Seth shook his head. “I’m not inclined to sitting room games.”
    “I imagine it's not a game younger men enjoy these days. Others are more challenging. The ladies for example?” He wrinkled his nose and let out a snort meant to be a laugh.
    Seth smiled and changed the subject. “You sent me a letter concerning my grandfather's estate.”
    “I’m glad you’ve taken my advice and come.”
    “Only that, sir.”
    Stowefield dragged off his spectacles and put them on his desk. “What do you mean?”
    “I’ll not take his property.”
    Stowefield raised his brows. “But it's been willed to you. You’re the legal heir. It’d be foolish not to take it. Think of the fortune you’d have.”
    “I have my father's land.”
    “And what will that bring you but a pocket of scratch? You’ll be in the poorhouse by winter. This drought will wipe out many a landed gentleman.”
    “A landed gentleman I’m not, Mr. Stowefield.”
    Stowefield cocked one brow. “Well, not in English terms perhaps. But that is beside the point.”
    “I’ve other plans besides planting.”
    “Such as?”
    “I want to breed horses and restore the house.”
    “Noble goals they may be, but …”
    “It will take some time to raise the money, but it's my ambition to raise the finest racers and hunters in Virginia.”
    Stowefield sighed. “Well, your grandfather has left you enough to raise a hundred or more.”
    Seth lowered his eyes with a frown. “I don’t want his money. I’ll raise the funds on my own. A few good seasons and …”
    Stowefield raised his hand. “You’re too young to know what is wise to do. I mean no insult by it, but you need sound advice. You cannot let your feelings or prejudice rule you in this matter. I know you fought for independence, and I hear you paid dearly for it. But a man has a duty to his family no matter what country he may live in or what political allegiances he may have.”
    “And it is for that reason I’ll not go to England. How can I live in a country I rebelled against?”
    “Have you forgotten your sister?”
    “No, sir, I have not.”
    “What will she do now that she's alone?”
    “I would hope she’d come