Chapter 28

Daniel

The journey to Ohio took two and a half weeks. With him travelled Isabella, his cousin, Grace, and her family including her husband, Benedict, their two young children and her father-in-law. It was a convivial and merry group, and by necessity, Daniel had to force a cheer he did not feel when he was around them. The smiles and the teasing ceased the moment he was alone. Then, all he felt was an unremitting ache for Ambrose, the love of his life who had betrayed his trust in such a hurtful way.

Oh, he fully understood why Ambrose had hidden his feelings so completely for the last five years. He knew Ambrose well—his need for order, for respectability, and his fear that the secure life he had spent years to achieve could crumble at the drop of a hat if his love for another man were ever to be discovered. Conversely, it was because he understood that he felt so betrayed. Ambrose should have trusted him with this most precious of secrets. Ambrose should have known that Daniel would have kept it safe, kept him safe.

They arrived in Ohio one afternoon in early October. It was an emotional reunion between family members that had not seen each other for over five years. Of course, they had become much changed in that time. His ma and pa had aged considerably, lines of stress and worry etched on their faces. The greatest change, however, was in Benjamin. This gaunt, scarred man with leathery skin and a silver-streaked beard was nothing like the younger brother he had known. Haunted dark eyes, full of anger, stared into his own, no less angry gaze. Whatever had happened to his sweet, joyous brother?

With firm purpose, he went to Benjamin and clasped him tight. "You may have kept me at arm's length all this war, little brother, but no more," he thought as he held Benjamin's stiff body to him. At last, his brother yielded, returning the embrace for a brief time.

The next hours were a mix of lively conversation, tears and embraces as the Stanton family celebrated their reunion at long last. Throughout it all, Daniel kept a close eye on Benjamin, who said little and smiled not at all. He was the first to notice when Benjamin slipped away from the gathering and went outside to the stable. Daniel drew close to his papa and asked under his breath, "Where is he going?"

Frank Stanton looked out the window at his departing son, his expression sad and resigned. With a sigh, he replied, "He has bought old Jim Shaw's cabin and the land around it with the money he inherited from your grandfather. He wants to build a house there and live alone, away from everyone."

Daniel's lips tightened. "I am going after him," he declared. Since his friendship with Ambrose was broken, he could at least try to mend his friendship with Benjamin.

"Do it, please," said his father. "He will not talk to me. Perhaps he will with you."

Daniel nodded and quickly put on his coat and hat before striding off to find himself a horse. A short time later, he was galloping away. He rode with purpose, determined to find his brother and to break that wall of silence between them. The land Benjamin had purchased was not very far away, but it was positioned on high ground and isolated, surrounded by woods on one side and a wide, flowing stream on the other.

Once he had reached his destination, Daniel dismounted and tied the reins of his horse to a nearby tree. From where he stood, he saw the ramshackle old cabin that had been built by Jim Shaw, and sitting on the front steps was Benjamin, sketching something on a sheet of paper. He walked over to him. "I thought I would find you here," he said conversationally. Then, looking over at the drawing that Benjamin had made, he asked, "Are these your plans for rebuilding the cabin?"

"Just some initial ideas."

Daniel noticed something on the side of the drawing and pointed to it. "What's this?"

"A large rectangular barn," Benjamin replied. "I'm thinking of using it as an engineering workshop where I can design and tinker with machinery."

Daniel nodded, scrutinising the landscape around him. It was different from what he had become used to in England—but no, he would not think of that. "It's good land," he remarked. "There is water, a steady supply of wood, green pasture for your cattle. I always thought old Jim could have made a lot more out of this place."

"We'll see if I can do any better," muttered Benjamin. "I've a great deal of work to do—knock the cabin down, dig the foundations and rebuild. I don't know how much I'll get done before the snow comes this winter."

It would get done, if Daniel had anything to do with it. His brother had better understand that he was no longer alone. "I can help you," he said simply.

Benjamin snorted. "And ruin those perfectly groomed hands, viscount? I think not."

This was how it was going to play out? Daniel laughed to himself. Manicured hands be damned. Without another word, he went to pick up an axe that was leaning against the wall of the cabin. Gazing coolly at his brother, he taunted, "We better get started if we want to get anything done before dark."

They began their work. Together, they toiled for hours, demolishing over a third of the cabin's structure. It felt good once more to labour with his hands, though it was exhausting too. He was out of shape and needed to build up his strength, but Lord was he glad to shake off the trappings of his aristocratic privilege. Moreover, the physical work helped to take his mind off his heartache over Ambrose.

When the sun had begun to set over the horizon, they laid down their tools and rode home, still without a word. Although they had not spoken, something precious had blossomed between them—a re-connection reminding them that they were brothers and that they loved one another. Daniel remembered that evening to give Benjamin the letter that Sarah had written and entrusted to him. He hoped that now the war was over, the odd relationship between his brother and Ambrose's sister, which had been conducted via letters for so many years, would finally bear fruit.

Sarah's letter did not seem to have made Benjamin any happier, for the next day he was grim-faced as they toiled side by side, dismantling the old cabin. Daniel watched him discreetly, as he hacked furiously with his axe, rage emanating from him in waves. It was a rage that echoed in Daniel's breast whenever he thought of Ambrose's betrayal. At last, Daniel could take it no more. "Benjamin!" he called out, but his brother barely heard him. He tried again. "Benjamin! Will you stop?" Still, Benjamin lifted his axe and thrust it into the wooden planks before him. Daniel moved to get as close as he could and cried sharply, "Benjamin, put it down!"

Finally, his brother attended to him and stopped wielding his axe. And with the cessation of Benjamin's rage, so too came a lessening of Daniel's anger towards Ambrose. It was as if the frenzied wielding of that axe had purged the anger from his system. Feeling light-headed, Daniel guided his brother gently to the front steps and sat him down. Breathing deeply, he recovered his self-possession and focused his attention on Benjamin. What had happened to cause such despairing rage? He wished he knew, but he would wait until Benjamin was ready to speak of it. In silence, he watched his brother as he buried his face in his hands. In his mind, he whispered the words: I am here, Ben. Talk to me.

It was as if Benjamin heard, for he looked up and said in a gritty voice, "I apologise. It is the way with me these days. My temper gets the better of me."

In response, Daniel squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. He hoped his brother would open up about what was causing him such pain. Patiently, he waited.

Benjamin glanced at the remains of the cabin behind them. "We have done well today," he said, sounding more composed.

"We work well together," agreed Daniel.

"Think you we can make fast work of the new building?"

Daniel considered the matter. "It depends how long the dry weather holds up," he replied. "Is it of great import that we finish this build quickly?"

"Yes," murmured Benjamin.

Daniel prodded a little more. "Will you tell me now what it was that had you so upset?"

At first, Benjamin did not answer. Then, exhaling loudly, he asked, "Do you recall what you said when you handed me Sarah's letter yesterday?"

"About her still being unmarried?"

"Yes."

All of a sudden, Daniel understood. "You want to build this house for her," he stated.

"Yes."

"And you mean to go to England."

"As soon as I possibly can," replied Benjamin.

And there it was. Yet another Stanton in love with a Cranshaw. Oh the irony! Daniel regarded his brother with curiosity. "So, you are more than simply friends."

"There is something more," said Benjamin tentatively. "However, nothing has been declared."

Daniel gave an unamused laugh. He understood this all too well. How many years had he believed Ambrose to be just a friend while the truth was hidden from him? "Believe me," he said dryly, "I am well acquainted with such a thing."

This seemed to pique Benjamin's interest. Turning to Daniel, he demanded, "What do you mean? Who?"

Daniel shook his head. This was not something he could be open with his brother about, much as he would have liked to. Out of respect for Ambrose, the secret of their love would have to remain just that. However, an idea had begun to germinate in his mind. "It is of no import," he stated, "except in one respect. I have good reason to want to stay away from England for a considerable time—three months at least, perhaps more. It would make sense, Benjamin, if you were to step into my shoes and take over the reins at Stanton Hall while I remain here. It will not be too arduous a task, as the estate is well managed by Ambrose. And it should give you time to woo the delightful Sarah."

Benjamin glanced doubtfully at the ruined cabin behind him. "What of the house?"

Daniel held up his hands in front of him, saying mockingly, "Not so perfectly groomed any more. Will you trust me to build it for you? I am well capable of following a set of your drawings." Daniel warmed to the idea as he set out his plan. He needed to be away from Ambrose, and Benjamin needed to be with Sarah. What better than to trade places? Spending the next few months in hard manual labour, building a beautiful home for Benjamin and Sarah, sounded like just the thing—an act of penance to the brother who had suffered so much already, and a way for Daniel to find relief from the gnawing ache in his heart.

Benjamin hesitated. "She might not want me as a husband, or to live in America, so far from her family."

Daniel pressed the point. "And you'll only know for sure once you ask her. Go to England, Benjamin, and win her hand. I'll build your house."

No further convincing was required. "When?" asked Benjamin.

Daniel's smile spread across his face. "Tomorrow, dear brother. You leave tomorrow, and do not worry about Mama or Pa or anyone else. I will manage them for you."

And indeed, that was what he did. On their return to the house, he convened the rest of the family in the front parlour and laid down the law. "Benjamin is to go to England to see Sarah," he stated, staring hard at his ma and pa. "You will not question this decision or try to stop him. This is what he needs to do. It is what is right for him, and so he shall do it," he said with some asperity. Then he added, "He leaves tomorrow, and while he is gone, I shall build his house. I will appreciate any and all help to accomplish this task in the time we have before he returns."

They all stared at him in astonishment, but nobody argued. He felt fired up with purpose. He would do everything to help ensure that Benjamin and Sarah's story had the happy ending that had eluded him with Ambrose. That evening, he sat to write a letter to his estate manager, explaining the situation. Benjamin could hardly swan into Stanton Hall and take over without his express written permission. The letter was short and to the point.

Dear Ambrose,

I will be staying on in America indefinitely. In my absence, Benjamin is to take on the running of my affairs in England. Please report to him as you did to me and assist him in any way possible. Should there be any matter of great import that requires my consideration, you may write to me of it. Otherwise, please direct all your queries to my brother.

Yours,

Daniel Stanton

He sealed the letter, leaving it on his desk until he could give it to Benjamin on the morrow. Undressing quickly, he extinguished the light and got into bed. Sleep, however, would not come. He went over the text of his letter in his head. He had not yet forgiven Ambrose, and his words had been curt, reflecting his anger. He knew they would be hurtful to Ambrose when he read them, and he did not have it in his heart to wound the man he loved. Late in the middle of the night, he sat up and lit a candle. Then, breaking the seal on his letter, he added a postscript.

P.S. I will return eventually, and then we shall talk. I am still angry at you, Ambrose. I miss you all the while I rail at your obstinacy in having kept your feelings a secret from me. You stubborn, foolish man. We could have had five years of happiness together. Think on it!

P.P.S. Please help my brother as best you can. As you will see, he is not in the best of spirits. Be kind to him. Lend him a listening ear. Give him your best counsel. And Ambrose, however you can, support his efforts with Sarah. He loves her so. Perhaps there can be one Stanton/Cranshaw love story that ends with joy.

Sealing the letter once more, he put it aside and went back to bed. The next morning, with little fanfare or fuss, Benjamin left for England, and Daniel began the work on Benjamin's new house.