by RITA GERLACH
Mrs. Rhendon replied. “He is well, thank you. You’ll meet him shortly.”
“We have met him already,” Darcy said.
“Where? When?”
“It was long ago. We were down at the river one Sunday, and he …”
Mrs. Rhendon stiffened. Darcy realized she did not wish to hear anymore about her son’s treks to the river—or hers. Her aunt touched her sleeve, a sign for her to rein in. “The English ladies and their gentleman companion must find Twin Oaks a rival to what they are used to back home, Mrs. Rhendon,” said Mrs. Breese. “I do not doubt they envy it.”
Mrs. Rhendon fluttered her fan near her chin. “No doubt they do.”
Mrs. Breese’s eyes blinked. “Are the ladies beautiful? I was unable to see them clearly from a distance. My eyesight is poor.”
Darcy drew in a slow breath and looked away. It was embarrassing to have her aunt dig for information, and she hoped Mrs. Rhendon would answer her in such a way that her mind would be satisfied. Their hostess craned her neck to look out among her guests. “Miss Byrd is a lovely girl with pretty eyes. But Miss Roth rivals her in beauty. I do believe she is Mr. Brennan’s intended, although he did not introduce her in that way. One would assume there is an understanding between them since she never leaves his side.”
“I imagine Mr. Brennan is a fine gentleman,” Mrs. Breese was so bold to say.
“He is, Mrs. Breese. You must excuse me. I have other guests.” And Mrs. Rhendon stepped away with a sweep of her gown.
Moving to the lawn, the girls sat under the shade of an enormous oak. Darcy looked out across the green that stretched to the top of a hill. Her romantic nature carried her away to it, and she wondered what beauty lay beyond.
She stood and put her hand over her eyes. “I wish to walk the grounds. The ride over stiffened my legs.”
“You’re always walking about, Darcy.” Lizzy sighed. “Can’t you sit still for five minutes?”
Darcy smiled down at her cousin. “No, not when there is such beauty to see.”
She stepped away, with her gown clinging to her limbs because of the breeze. With a graceful, yet eager stride, she strolled up the green expanse bordered by forest. When she reached the summit, she gazed down into a valley. In the meadow, deer grazed. They lifted their heads, sensing her presence. A stream curved through the vale and flashed in the sunlight.
Such beauty poured into Darcy with romantic passion. The land seemed to be a great barrier between her and some place that she would be called to someday. Where and when she did not know, but she yearned for it, for the adventure of it, the love that awaited her, and even the hardship and peril that would bring her closer to finding her heart’s desire.
She stood beneath a solitary maple so large she could not imagine how long ago the Ancient of Days had sprouted it from the earth. Heavy branches stretched high above her, and the cool shade fell over her. She shook back her hair and raised her face. Shutting her eyes, she drank in the world around her. Beneath her feet, she felt a vibration, soft at first, then stronger as if a hundred drums beat beneath the sod. The hard gallop of a horse grew louder, and before she could move from the rider’s path, he crested the hill. Startled, she turned and threw her back against the tree. The horse, black and large, reared and curvetted, having too been startled by her presence and the violent pull of its rider. It whinnied, blew out its nostrils, and pawed the mossy earth.
The rider swung down from the saddle and approached her. A thump in her chest snatched her breath and she placed her hands behind her to feel the safety of the tree.
“Are you all right?” Standing but a yard away, he breathed hard.
She nodded. “I believe so.”
“I was unaware anyone would be here.”
“I was unaware anyone would be riding so fiercely toward me.”
The regret in his eyes deepened. “Please forgive me. You could have been hurt.”
Darcy gazed at him, and then checked her winsome expression. “You did not know, sir.”
“That is no excuse for me not to have been more careful. At least allow me to take you back down. The horse may look fierce, but he is harmless.”
She glanced at the fearsome stallion. “By the size of him, and the way he behaves, I doubt your word.”
“Doubt it, but just the same, he is gentle. I am considering buying him from the Rhendons to take back to England.”
“His gentleness is not proven by how unsettled he appears. I hear they have a fine gray in the stable which would give no trouble.”
The gentleman’s countenance eased and he inclined his head. She knew what he interpreted in her comment—that his judgment was weak—and felt her face flush.
“I have plans to buy a mare as well. You could give me your opinion.”
“I am not that astute when it comes to buying horses.”
“Well, at least let me take you back.”
“I am able to find the way myself.” She smiled and walked away knowing he watched her go. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Thank you for not running me over.” She hurried away, down the hill, skipping at places.
“But what is your name?” he called.
Forcing herself not to look back at him again, she did not answer. A smile brightened her face and laughter rose in her throat. He would have to make inquiries to discover who she was.
Taken off guard by the opinionated female, Ethan stared after Darcy as she descended the grassy field toward the house. His eyes followed the twists of her hair, how it tumbled about her shoulders down to her waist, how it caught the sunlight. Miss Roth wore her hair parted in the center in tight corkscrew curls. He found it stiff and unnatural, something a man dare not reach out and touch. She would not permit it. He did not desire it.
As for this girl, he could run his fingers through her hair if she permitted him. “Who are you, that God would put you straight into my path?” A brave and spirited one, for she had not screamed nor fainted when he came upon her.
He thrust his boot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle. The girl with the high spirits and flowing hair disquieted Ethan, and as he moved the horse on, he watched her walking in the distance. She bent down, her gown clinging to her well-formed legs as she plucked a dandelion from the ground.
3
Dar—cy! Mar—tha!” Mari Breese waved her handkerchief as if she were swatting a fly. “Come away from there at once and join us.”
If only her aunt would not call to her, wave to her in such a flustered way, then people would not be staring and drawing conclusions. A few more paces down the hill and Darcy met Martha.
“I wish Mother would be more reserved,” Martha said, walking alongside Darcy. “Everyone is looking at us.”
“She means well. She’s a mother hen who likes her chicks around her, you know. Besides, not everyone is looking. Just that group of ladies and gentlemen within earshot.”
“Well, that is enough, I’d say. I am glad you are back. My sisters left me alone, and I grew worried about you.”
Darcy smiled as she recalled the rider’s astonished look when he happened upon her. “I returned as I left you—even though the Englishman nearly ran me over with one of Twin Oaks’ horses.”
Martha gasped. “The English gentleman?”
Darcy nodded. “Yes, the English gentleman.”
“He is reckless, Darcy, and obviously has no mind to be aware of young ladies strolling the grounds. You should have nothing more to do with him.”
The sun strengthened through the trees and she stepped into a shady spot. The cool caress of the breeze and the scent of lilacs and roses filled the air. For a moment, it distracted Darcy from thinking about Mr. Brennan.
“I think it’s time we show Miss Roth how fast our thoroughbreds are,” she heard Daniel Rhendon say to the guests gathered on the porch.
“Surely, sir, our Virginia horses are superior to what they breed in England,” said one gentleman in a gray suit. “What proof do th
ey need?”
“Since you have no English stallions in your stable, Mr. Rhendon, I do anticipate your competition between riders,” said Miss Roth, while fanning her face with an ivory fan. Her eyes glanced sideways toward Darcy, and then moved back to the circle of men. Then from out on the lawn, a man shouted, “Here they come!”
The guests rushed to the porch rail, and some hurried out onto the lawn. Down the hill came two riders. They jumped their mounts over a hedge, gained control, and galloped at a breakneck speed past the crowd. Cheers rang out as they skidded to a halt, the horses rearing under their firm hands. Ethan dismounted along with his competitor and they shook hands.
Captain Rhendon threw up his arms with a broad smile. “I’m afraid it is a tie, ladies and gentlemen. Both gentlemen have shown exceptional horsemanship. And my horses? Well, it goes without saying how superior they are.”
Cheers and handshakes all around, the crowd dispersed back to the veranda or the shade of the trees. Darcy turned away. “We cannot judge Mr. Brennan too harshly,” she told her cousin. “He is a bold rider and that says something about his character.”
Martha guffawed. “Hmm. I’d like to know what.”
Darcy took her cousin’s hand and moved with her to a bench beneath the veranda. “I have a stone in my shoe.” At once, she drew it off and shook free a tiny pebble. She hesitated when, just above her, she heard voices and the stomp of boots across the porch. She slipped her shoe back on and looked up through the lattice above her.
With his back turned, Ethan could not see her below. She noticed flecks of mud on his boots. Sunlight alighted over the earthy color of his hair and across his broad shoulders. How would it turn the color of his eyes? Would they lighten, or be averse to the glare?
She heard him say, “Who is the young woman with the glorious hair?”
Daniel replied, “Which one? There are several—and all so pretty.”
“The one who does not wear it up, but loose down her back. Do you know her name?”
“Ah, yes. I know whom you mean.”
Martha’s mouth fell open, and Darcy pressed her finger against her cousin’s lips to silence her.
“I believe her name is Darcy. Her aunt and uncle are over there, Mr. and Mrs. Breese. I saw her once down at the river. She and her cousins were wading … a wondrous sight for any young man to behold. Hair Glorious had her dress looped up above her pretty calves.”
Ethan leaned back against the banister. “I imagine the rest of her is just as lovely.”
Darcy widened her eyes and a flutter seized her. Never had she heard a man speak of her in that fashion. How dare he say such a thing aloud, or think of me in that way.
Martha cupped her hand and whispered in Darcy’s ear. “He must be a libertine and a hedonist. Did you hear what he said about you just now?”
“I could not help hearing it.” If their paths crossed again, she determined she would get the best of him. Were not the English more reserved than this?
“Come on,” Daniel said. “We shall hunt her and that fetching cousin of hers down, and I’ll introduce you.”
Then from the corner of her eye, Darcy watched Ethan turn away. “Later.”
A coy smile tugged at her mouth, and a tinge of insult caused her eyes to narrow. “Later?” she whispered back to Martha. “I shall avoid him at all costs.”
“Girls!” Her aunt tapped her fan against the railing and leaned over another inch or two. She made a most severe motion for them to make their way above.
Martha walked ahead of Darcy, with her head erect and her gait graceful. Darcy followed her up the stairs, and as she turned to the left to join her aunt and cousin, a shadow fell over her. She stopped short, glanced up, almost bumping straight into the man who seemed bent on meeting with an accident that would embarrass them both.
His eyes fixed on her face. “Excuse me.”
“Again I am in your way, sir. I should not rush so.”
“Nor should I …”
“I am to join my aunt and cousin, so if you will excuse me.”
He turned and looked over at the lady fast approaching them. “Would you be so kind as to introduce me? After all, I may need to do some explaining to your aunt if word gets out that I almost trampled you.”
Darcy shook her head. “No, you cannot say a word of it to my aunt. You have no idea how fast she can spread a story and how twisted it will be in the end.”
He inclined his head and spoke low. “You spare me, Miss …”
The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek and the tone of his voice captivated her. He stood near and a strange sensation filled Darcy, as if he were meant to be so close, a kind of sentinel over her.
“Dear me.” Mrs. Breese put her fan between them and Darcy stepped back.
“I found one, Ethan.” Daniel Rhendon drew Martha forward, smiling. “And you the other. Mr. Ethan Brennan, may I introduce Mrs. Breese?” Darcy’s aunt dipped with her eyes lowered. “Miss Martha Breese.” Martha mimicked her mother. “And finally, Miss Darcy Morgan.”
A muscle in Ethan’s chest constricted when Daniel pronounced her name. He could not help staring at her face, at its delicate shape; could not help gazing into her vivacious eyes, and comparing them to another pair he knew. “Morgan, you say?”
Daniel gave him a slight nod. “Yes. A fine name for a fine lady.”
The twists of hair that fell over her head and along her throat were tantalizing, and Ethan found himself soaking her in with his eyes, drawing in the essence of her with each breath. Her mouth parted to speak, but faltered. An impression he had no word for suddenly swelled within him as dusky pink swept into her cheeks. He knew then that she was not accustomed to a man’s eyes being so intent upon her.
The temptation to reveal to her the secret he held tittered on his lips. But the oath he had made kept him in check. “The surname of patriots,” Ethan said.
Mrs. Breese sighed with approval. “You know our history, Mr. Brennan?”
“Only what I have read, ma’am.”
When Mrs. Breese extended her hand to him, she bumped into her charge, which caused Darcy to stand closer to Ethan. His hand touched her forearm to steady her.
“I beg your pardon, sir.” Mrs. Breese waved her hand at Darcy. “Darcy, you are too close to the gentleman. Step aside and give him room. You must excuse my niece, Mr. Brennan. She has a tendency to be in places where she should not be. Not that being in your presence is wrong, mind you. It is hot and crowded here on the porch and not suitable for lengthy conversation.”
Darcy’s lips parted when Mrs. Breese took her hand. She turned Martha by the shoulder with the other and slipped off with them into the crowd, to a less populated part of the veranda. When Darcy glanced back, something warm charged through Ethan’s heart. The year before, he had met Miss Roth on a cool summer evening at a social gathering. What he thought he felt was an attachment. But never had his heart pounded like this, nor had his blood raced so heatedly. He’d been wrong that a man could not love a woman at first sight.
She bent her head against the girl beside her. He hoped she was not telling her cousin about the near accident on the hilltop. Was she laughing at him? Forced to linger behind, he looked away, still wondering what this girl thought of him. And now that he had seen her, he could say she was in good health and happy, despite her past.
“Ethan?” Daniel Rhendon stepped alongside him. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
Ethan looked at him with a shake of his head. “You must forgive me. I was distracted. Yes, your horse is fine, but does not suit me.”
“What’s wrong with him? He’s spirited enough.”
“I’m not the right one to own him.”
“Why?” Daniel looked in the direction of Ethan’s glance. “Oh, is it because of Darcy? That would be nonsense.”
“The horse would remind me of how I almost killed a woman.”
“Ridiculous, Ethan. The horse is yours and at a good price. Sanchet
does not belong in Virginia, but with you.”
“He’d be too good of a sire for me to take him away from your mares.”
“My mares want nothing do to with him. They prefer Allegheny, the one I call Old Al. You’ll offend me if you turn down my offer.”
Ethan hesitated and held out his hand to shake Daniel’s. “You are right. I would regret it later.”
4
Darcy thought she should, perhaps for a time, rebel against the attraction she had for Ethan Brennan. “I imagine the stable-hand has removed the saddle from that beast of a horse and locked him in a stall,” Darcy said to Martha as they sat together on a quilt spread out beneath a tree.
“After much thought on the matter, I think you should forgive Mr. Brennan for being so distressed and concerned.”
“Certainly I forgive him,” said Darcy. “It was my fault as well, I suppose.”
“You like him, don’t you?” Martha nudged her.
“No. He is British and I am a proud Marylander.”
“Proud to have a heritage that rebelled against the monarchy.”
Her other cousins rushed over. “Have you seen the tables on the porch?” said Dolley. “They are all covered in white tablecloths and loaded down with so much food one would think they’d collapse.”
China plates edged in gold leaf, diamond-cut glassware, and silver sparkled. A joint of beef and an enormous ham were on the center table, flanked by roasted fowl and bowls of bright green pole beans and cucumbers. Loaves of homemade bread and rolls were heaped in baskets, accompanied by pots of butter. Yellow cakes dripped with sugar icing among platters of nuts and fruits. At each table, a sentry was positioned. Negro youths as young as eight years held large wicker fans in their hands to shoo the flies away from the bounty.
“Just look at that,” Darcy said to her cousins, annoyed. “Children should not be forced to stand by a table and swat flies all day.”
Martha tapped Darcy’s hand with her fingertips. “But they are slaves, Darcy.”