by RITA GERLACH
“Miss Roth would not stoop so low as to pay us a call. It is obvious she feels she is too good for us, too blue-blooded to grace us with her imperious self.”
“Perhaps he will bring Daniel Rhendon with him.” Martha looked hopeful.
Darcy reached over and cupped her cousin’s chin in her hand. “Yes, perhaps he will. We shall have to wait and see, won’t we?” She stood and stretched her arms. “I need a walk. Care to come along?”
“Not I. Mother wishes me to wash Dolley’s hair. She got into the honey earlier and how she managed to get it into her hair, the Lord only knows. Do not venture too far. You know how my mother worries.”
“Say nothing to her. But if she asks, tell her I have gone to fetch lady slippers for Uncle Will.”
When she reached the Potomac’s stony shore, she raised her hand above her eyes to spy out the opposite side. She slipped off her shoes, lifted her dress, and stepped into the water. The muddy bottom seeped between her toes. The swirl of water moved around her ankles in time with the sighing breeze.
In the middle of the river, a stretch of boulders gleamed in the sunlight smooth as a ship’s deck. Where she stepped the river was shallow, and she decided she would wade out to the stone ledge, sit upon it and watch the swallows and herons. Reaching it, she pulled up her legs and sat with her arms hugging her knees. The river flashed and murmured, and the sun grew into a great orange orb, surrounded by white thunderclouds.
“Lord, I wish I had someone to share this with.” She dipped her hand into the water and drew it back when a bass nibbled her fingertips. “I suppose the fish and birds will have to do.”
She was over twenty and Darcy wondered if men thought she was homely. Perhaps it was her spirited nature, her love for the outdoors, for trekking the countryside that put them off. She had no dowry to bring to a marriage, and she was orphaned. Those two things alone would make most men look the other way. Whatever caused them not to pursue her was troublesome, for her heart yearned to be loved. Her desires surprised her, for they were as raging as the rapids ahead. Then she smiled and shook back her hair. This is how it is supposed to feel, she told herself, when a woman wants to be a wife and a mother someday.
She dropped her knees and slapped the water with her hand. The confusion that Ethan had brought her was overpowering. Standing, she walked to the edge of the rock. Others were before her, stretching toward the Virginia side but not without a span of water to cross. She put out her arms for balance and then went forward. Here the river flowed deeper than she thought, up to her knees, but no threat. Then it reached her hips, and she pulled her feet up and swam toward the great rock ahead. The river was calm at first but unpredictable. It pulled at her from beneath and she went under.
Panic seized her as the river dragged her down. She jerked her legs free and swam to the surface. She gasped for air and thrashed forward while the current moved her along. She reached the rock and hauled herself up to the edge, gasping for air. It was slick and she lost her grip. The water claimed her and took her into a plane of deeper currents that ran swift. Ahead she saw a fallen tree, and stretching her fingers as wide as she could, she reached for it, grabbed a branch, and hauled herself up against it for dear life. Frightened, she wondered if her time had come, if angels would lift her from the water. Would it be over quickly and painlessly?
She had no fear of entering eternity, but the fear of drowning so young seized her so violently that she railed against it and rallied the fight within her. She gripped the old tree. Her fingers turned as white as the foam in the surge. Her hands shook and her nails dug deep. Shocked by the cold rushing water, she held tighter and looked up at heaven above her.
“You know, God, if you spare me, Aunt Mari is going to kill me.”
Down the river path and under a canopy of trees, Ethan galloped Sanchet. To the right the trees opened and he could see the river clearly. The Potomac flowed in the sunlight, reflecting forest and cliff and seams of an azure sky. Mallards skimmed the shallows, and a blue heron opened its wings and flew from the bank to the opposite side.
Now, to see it for himself, he understood why the river received such high praise, and why those who loved it longed to see it again. Its beauty and peace touched his inner man, and he wondered if he, too, could leave it.
A sudden movement in the trees caused his horse to sidestep. From a willow, a brown hawk mounted the sky like a wind-blown leaf. Ethan watched it soar higher and then dive with folded wings to an outcropping of rock in the middle of the river.
Sanchet’s mane snapped back in the rising breeze, and Ethan’s eyes traveled from the hawk to a woman clinging to an anchor that could only keep her safe for a few moments. Alarm seized him. Digging his heels into the horse’s sides, he spurred it down the slope to the river’s edge, leaped from the saddle, and yanked off his coat. Without a moment to lose, he hailed her as he rushed to the water’s edge. She turned her head and gave him a weak smile, looking embarrassed and frightened.
“Is that you, Darcy?” he called, a serious panic in his voice.
“It is, sir.” Her soaked dress clung to her shivering body, and she sank further into the water so he would not see. The bronze tresses of her hair floated and swirled around her shoulders.
“What are you doing out there in the middle of the river? You must be a very good swimmer.” Ethan unbuttoned his waistcoat, tossed it down on top of his coat.
“Indeed I am.”
“I sincerely doubt it.” Ethan pulled off his boots.
Darcy thrust her head upright. “I can swim back with no difficulty, Mr. Brennan. If you please, I would prefer that you ride on.”
“Would you?” He hurried out into the water. “I’m coming out to get you.”
“I am capable …”
“Of drowning. I have no doubt this same stubbornness got you in this fix.”
With haste, he plunged into the water toward her, fighting the currents, hoping to reach her in time.
The timber inched away and risked taking Darcy along with it. Fear tightened her throat and shot through her chest. She dug her fingers into the bark not caring how it tore her skin. As soon as the tree broke loose from the rock that moored it, it moved slowly at first. Then the river pulled at her and she slid under the water after her hands lost their grip and the tree floated away.
For her life, Darcy kicked and twisted to gain ground, her lungs ready to burst out the air she held within them. Her head surfaced and she let out a gasp. Ethan called to her and she reached for him against the flow of water. She watched him drag himself head down through the current, his arms battling the river’s power. The moment he reached her, she sank under the water and felt his hands drag her up to the surface. His arm went around her waist and held tight.
“Hold on to my neck and do not let go.” He swam with her beneath his chest held by his arm, her cheek in the curve of his neck. When they reached the shallows, he set his feet into the riverbed. His breathing hurried and his hair clung to his shoulders as he trudged from the river to the shore. He set her down and unlocked Darcy’s arms from around his neck. Her lips trembled, and kneeling in front of her, he rubbed her hands within his.
“Mr. Brennan,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
He picked up the clothing he had cast off, and put his coat over her shoulders. Then he reached for his boots and slipped them back on. She had no idea what he was thinking—that she looked a waif, a creature of the river and woods.
He glanced up at the sky. “Come, I will take you home.” He extended his hand and when she placed hers within his, and he closed his fingers over hers, he lifted her up into his arms.
“You need not carry me,” Darcy said.
He looked into her eyes and laughed. “You have been through a trial. You are shivering. In fact your lips are blue.”
She touched them. “Really?”
“Blue as the sky above.” He carried her up the bank to his horse. “When there are no clouds gathering. Looks like
rain, Darcy.”
She stared out at the river. Grave silence fell over her, so suddenly snatched out of Death’s hand that the sense of awe that she was saved washed over her. The fine thread that was life grew more precious. It was a miracle Ethan had come and had seen her in the water when he did. Shutting her eyes, she breathed out, then in again, and whispered thanks to the One who made her. Life had become more precious, and she would cherish every breath from that moment on.
She held tight to Ethan as he guided his horse. The pale light of day slanted through the forest. In the branches overhead, a mockingbird sang. Chickadees chirped and fluttered from tree to tree.
Ethan looked back over his shoulder. “Which way is home?”
“To the right. We mustn’t stray from this road, else we will be lost.”
His eyes glowed at her words, as if they had some double meaning. He looked away, ahead to where the road curved. Then he walked the horse on.
“Will you grant me one more favor?” she asked.
“What is it?”
“Please do not tell my aunt I nearly drowned. She is so fearful of such things.”
“She will ask what happened, and your uncle will demand to know.”
“You are right. There is no getting out of this.”
Soft rain fell from the clouds and drenched the earth, sparkling on leaves and vine. Thunder cracked overhead, frightening the horse and causing it to rear. Darcy held tight. Gaining control, Ethan galloped Sanchet down the river road toward the Breese house and the anxious family that waited there.
7
Mari Breese wrung her hands and paced in front of her sitting-room window. Her instincts told her something awful was about to happen when storm clouds swept over her rooftop, when rain glazed the trees and filled the holes in the drive. Darcy had been gone for hours, and Mrs. Breese feared her niece would come home dripping wet, at risk for pneumonia.
“I hope to heaven Darcy did not get lost in the woods or wander close to the river and fall in.” She wiped the window with her handkerchief, gripped the windowsill and looked out. “It is Darcy with Mr. Brennan! Dear me, what was she thinking to be out in this weather?”
Mr. Breese leaned toward the window. “I don’t believe she knew it was to rain, my dear. It was a fine sky earlier.”
“I could have told her differently. The aching in my joints is a clear sign of inclement weather. Now she’s soaked through and liable to catch her death of cold.” Turning on her heels, Mrs. Breese whirled out of the room into the hallway. “Missy! Boil hot water for Miss Darcy, and put a brick in the hearth upstairs. There is clean flannel in the cupboard to wrap it in.”
Missy looked down from the upstairs landing. “But we’ve no fire in the hearths this time of year, madam.”
“Well then, make one—a small one, mind you. She’s soaking wet. You attend to her, Missy, as soon as Mr. Brennan gets her indoors.” Rushing forward, Mrs. Breese opened the front door. A brisk wind drove in a mist of rain.
The Breese girls gathered in the hallway. As one, they moved to the window beside the door to watch Ethan dismount and help Darcy down. He lifted her within his arms, hurried to the door, and stepped inside with his burden close against his chest.
“Thank the good Lord, sir.” Mrs. Breese sighed in relief. “You have brought Darcy back to us, though wet to the bone, I see.” She shot Darcy a stern look of disapproval. She would deal with her later, as soon as she could think of some kind of punishment to fit the crime of being so thoughtless—so reckless.
“It is nothing, Aunt.” Darcy brushed back her hair from her cheek.
Dolley, the youngest, began to cry. “Darcy is going to catch pneumonia and die.” She rubbed her eyes and slumped onto the first staircase step.
Groaning, Mrs. Breese hauled her daughter up by the shoulders. “Darcy is not going to die, Dolley. Now stop that crying, else your papa will give you something to cry about.” Blinking back her tears, Dolley sniffed and wiped her nose. Mrs. Breese turned to Ethan with a toothy smile. “Girls can be so emotional in these instances.”
Upon Mrs. Breese’s direction, Ethan carried Darcy upstairs to her room and set her down at the threshold. It did not feel right going further inside. She looked over at him and her eyes flooded with gratitude. He enjoyed the feeling she gave him, but disliked the pain. If she knew the true reason he had come to America, how would she react? How swift would that knowledge turn the current of her life? The temptation to reveal his mission overwhelmed him. Again, he reminded himself of his oath to the one who sent him.
“You must forgive us if it is warm in here, Mr. Brennan,” Mrs. Breese said. “I had Missy set a small fire to chase away any chill that Darcy might have, and to warm a brick for her feet. Are you chilled, sir?”
Ethan shook back his hair. “Not at all, madam.”
“You have suffered to bring her home.” Mrs. Breese scanned Ethan’s wet attire. “Dear me, it appears as if you swam to get here.”
“You need not worry about me, Mrs. Breese.”
“My husband shall provide you with a set of dry clothes, while yours dry.” She threw Mr. Breese a nod when he appeared behind Ethan. Then she closed the door.
A firm hand landed on Ethan’s shoulder. “What happened, Mr. Brennan? My niece does not appear to be herself. I can see past her soaking.”
Ethan shifted on his feet. “She is unscathed, sir.”
Mr. Breese set his mouth in what Ethan thought was a distrustful expression. When the girls poked their heads around the corner, he ushered Ethan downstairs to his study and closed the door. A square room, shelves hugged one wall loaded with books. Near the window stood a stool and a drawing table. Ethan observed a watercolor of thistles, paints and brushes, an inkwell, and a large notebook and portfolio. Bottles filled with flora specimens cluttered a table.
The older gentleman’s brows rumpled above his wary eyes. “What exactly happened to Darcy? Spare me no details.”
Ethan looked down at the puddle of water made from his boots and frowned. “She begged me not to say, sir.”
“That is just like her. She may withhold from my wife, but from me, Darcy can hide nothing.”
“I imagine, sir, she has given you reason to be concerned.”
Mr. Breese drew Ethan to the window. “She started climbing those trees at six, hiked in the forests when she was seven on to this very day. Sometimes she does not come home until after dark. She says the stars are too lovely to abandon.”
Paternal love glowed within the old man’s eyes. The way he described Darcy gave Ethan more reason to like her.
“I wonder how such an adventurous spirit was born within a girl.”
Will Breese shrugged. “I have no doubt it was passed down to her from her mother.”
Ethan fastened his eyes on the trees outside and imagined her sitting on one of the large limbs, her bare feet dangling beneath her. “So, Darcy reminds you of her?”
“Only from what I’ve been told about Eliza. I never had the chance to know her personally.”
“For a girl to be so curious holds some danger.”
Mr. Breese nodded. “Alluring, is it not, for a young man?”
Ethan, taken aback by the comment, did not reply. But he agreed. Darcy Morgan had a way of drawing him to her.
“Well, I imagine two things may have taken place this day.” Mr. Breese picked up his pipe from off his desk. “Either she lost her way and was caught in the rain, or she fell into the river. I beg the latter be not so, sir, but if it is, you have my profound thanks for rescuing her.”
“You have guessed right, sir. It was the river. Do not tell your wife. Darcy was worried she would be upset.”
“Believe me, I know how ill my wife can be over such things. Was it very bad?”
“If I had not come along when I did, I have no doubt she would have been swept away. Yet I doubt Darcy would have allowed the river to get the best of her. She is very determined.”
Letting out a long bre
ath, Mr. Breese lowered himself into a chair. “Thank the Lord. He saved her once again. I am indebted to God more times than I can count, Mr. Brennan. Having six young ladies under my roof, with a nerve-stricken wife, is most taxing at times. I do not know what I would have done if they had all been born boys.”
Ethan shook his head. “I can only imagine yours is a lively household, sir.”
“It is that, Mr. Brennan. How to keep Darcy from the river I do not know. Marry her off I suppose, to some man that shall take her far from it.”
A strange, but vague, feeling stabbed Ethan. For Darcy to be married off to a man who would remove her from the place she loved seemed unnatural. Yet, he romanticized the idea, wondering if he could make her love him enough to leave the river and cross a vast ocean to England. But that would complicate matters.
He shifted on his feet and looked Mr. Breese in the eye. “I would imagine that would make Darcy unhappy, no matter how in love she might be with a man of your liking. The river and this valley seem to seep into every inch of her, sir.”
“You are correct to say so, Mr. Brennan. Why were you riding on this side of the river anyway, if you do not mind my asking?”
“There is a pretty stretch of land not far from here that caught my eye.”
“You are thinking of buying it?”
“I wish I could.”
Mr. Breese twisted his mouth showing his curiosity. “What would you, being an Englishman, do with such a piece of property?”
“To own even one acre of God’s green earth in America might give me incentive to settle here.”
Mr. Breese put his hand over Ethan’s shoulder. “Then you must dine with us tonight and see how the average family manages to live in this wilderness. The Rhendons, the good people they are, mirror the aristocrats. It is the least I can do to express my gratitude for your saving Darcy. She is a daughter to me.”
“You have my thanks, but I am expected back at Twin Oaks—business, you see. If I have your permission, I would like to call tomorrow.”