Potomac 02 - Beside Two Rivers

by RITA GERLACH

He circled his fingers around her wrist. “You should meet Rowena. Some call her a harlot. But she is a kind and gentle soul, and faithful. She is the only woman I willingly provide for. Without me she would starve, or be enslaved to another man.”

  “Why are you telling me these things?”

  “I would have taken care of your mother if she had let me. I hope she lived to regret it.”

  Darcy jerked away and breathed out a sigh of frustration. She hated his words, the manner in which he looked at her, the smell of wine on his breath. If only Ethan would walk through the door.

  Langbourne inched forward, and she would have tripped back if she had not put her hand on the banister to steady herself. “I do not wish to hear any more of this. Let me by.”

  “You are frightened of me, aren’t you?” he said.

  “Not at all.”

  “Then why are you trembling?”

  “I am cold.”

  “Why do you withdraw from me?”

  “You are too close …”

  “Not close enough, I’d say.”

  “I wish to go to my room and you are preventing me.”

  “Only because I have news to tell.” Langbourne leaned back against the wall and put one boot upon the step in front of Darcy. “I have decided to close the house. I may even sell it. Everyone is to leave and settle at Meadlow.”

  Darcy’s throat tightened. She supposed he believed it was generous of him. “Not I, Mr. Langbourne.”

  He pulled away from the wall. “You will do as I say.”

  “I will do as I wish. You have no authority over me.”

  “I am your only male relation while you are here, and you are under my roof. You will obey me. Besides, you might enjoy Meadlow before you return to America. Unless, that is, you are prepared to go now. Have you enough to pay for return passage?”

  She had not thought of this. She’d come with so little money, and the coachman who took her overland charged her more than what the ticket was worth. One gold coin would not buy her way home. But it did not matter. She’d marry Ethan.

  “I’ll give you what you need,” Langbourne said, “as long as you take Madeline’s care into your hands and accompany her, with Mrs. Burke of course. I can use a new housekeeper.”

  “Grandmother is too frail to leave Havendale. She has lived here most of her life and it would kill her to leave.”

  “Nonsense. She will have Charlotte for company, and I plan to move Rowena to a residence near Meadlow to keep me company.”

  Shocked, Darcy’s mouth fell open. “That would be deplorable. How could you?”

  “Gentlemen do it all the time. Charlotte will not care. What is important to her is to live in a fine house, have pretty clothes, and money to spend. She would be glad to be free of her wifely duties.”

  Disgusted, Darcy looked away. For a moment that seemed forever, he stood over her—a menacing shadow of a man. She had to control herself, and if she made the appearance that she would submit to him, he’d leave her alone. As soon as they could get away, she would be far from his demands.

  Madeline’s call saved her. “Grandmother needs me.”

  She hoisted her hem and tried to pass him. He bowed short, then stepped aside. With a sweep of his hand, he gave her leave. She went on and thought of her father suffering upstairs. What would Langbourne do if he knew his old rival had defied his warning to stay away, and instead lay sick and dying in an unused room?

  She prayed Langbourne would retire, that he would not hear the minister’s arrival. If there were a way, some plan she could use to keep him from seeing the vicar with Mrs. Burke, she would use it.

  Darcy wondered what risks she would take, what danger she would face to defeat Langbourne’s plans for her. For in his eyes burned lust unfulfilled, and in his heart were rooted jealousy and resentment. She knew he hated both her parents, and realized that she had become the object of his revenge. He would hurt them through her if he could.

  She had to hurry to her grandmother, explain what the hours ahead held for both of them. Madeline’s eyes were wet with tears as Darcy gripped her hands. “I cannot go to Fairview with you, Darcy,” she said. “I cannot go anywhere.”

  “But if you do not come with us, Grandmother, Langbourne will move you to Meadlow.”

  “You mustn’t worry, dear. It was in my husband’s will that I live here for the remainder of my days. Langbourne cannot force me. Now, you must do what you can for your father. Besides, you and Mr. Brennan have an understanding. You love him and he loves you. That is where you belong.”

  Darcy kissed her grandmother’s cheek, wishing she could convince her to leave with her. She heard the grind of wheels approach, looked out Madeline’s window, and watched the minister’s wagon draw up at the rear of the house. A man alighted from the driver’s seat and handed down Mrs. Burke, who hurried through a servants’ back door.

  She turned back to Madeline. “The vicar has come, Grandmother. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Must I order you, child? Be off with you.”

  “I shall kiss Papa for you.”

  Madeline touched Darcy’s cheek. “God bless you, Darcy.”

  In a burst of emotion, Darcy threw her arms around Madeline and held tight. Madeline drew her back and kissed her forehead. “Go now,” she said, patting Darcy’s cheek. “I shall pray for your safe journey.”

  27

  Darcy stepped through the door and made her way to the servants’ stairs. First Mrs. Burke appeared, followed by Reverend Reed, a man of middle age. His verger stood behind him, a head taller and broad-shouldered. He was dressed in the traditional black garb, and a shock of gray hair touched his coat collar. She’d seen him standing at his pulpit, the same one her grandfather and Ethan’s father had preached from, his eyes aglow with the good news of the Gospel. Now that he had come to aid her father, hope came alive in Darcy. Before her stood a man who lived what he preached, and his kind eyes met hers. “I am here, Miss Darcy, to help in any way I can,” Reed said.

  Darcy felt a draught on her neck from the window and thought how cold her father’s room must be if the fire had died. “You have my thanks, sir.” She glanced down the hall. “Mr. Langbourne has returned home. We must be as quiet as we can. If he discovers us …”

  “Do not fear, my child. Mrs. Burke has told us everything, and we will get him safely away to Fairview without making a sound. He can make the journey you think?”

  “I pray he can, sir.”

  “Then we must waste no time.”

  The fire in the hearth had indeed died down to a heap of red coals. Even in the chill, sweat glistened over Hayward’s brow. Darcy picked up a cloth and wiped his face.

  “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Burke. I think it would be best if you look in on my grandmother now.”

  “Of course, and if Mr. Langbourne should ask where you are, I will delay him. Godspeed, Miss Darcy.” She left, shutting the door behind her.

  Reverend Reed leaned over Hayward. “Mr. Morgan? Can you hear me, sir?”

  Hayward’s eyes opened. “I can. Where is Darcy?”

  “I am here, Papa.” She picked up his hand. “This is Reverend Reed and his verger, Mr. Snead.”

  “You have come to pray for me, sir?” said Hayward. “Last rites, is it?”

  “If you wish it, I will.”

  “I have confessed Jesus as my Savior and repented of my sins. Though they were scarlet, He has made them white as snow.”

  “Yes, and you may rest easy.”

  “Papa, we must get you up,” said Darcy. “I will help you with your boots.” She retrieved them, and kneeling down she slipped them on. Then she wrapped him in his coat. “Not a sound, Papa, as we slip away.”

  The men lifted Hayward and held him up beneath his arms. They led him down the stairs to the passageway, to an outer courtyard. The horses sighed and flicked their ears as Hayward was placed in the rear, and a blanket thrown over him to keep him warm. Darcy wrapped her cloak closer and glan
ced up at the window that belonged to Madeline. A figure passed across it, and she turned away to board the cart. But when the rapid thud of footsteps approached, she froze.

  From the gloom of the opening Langbourne stepped out.

  Impatience had banked a fire inside Ethan. His time had been spent dealing with Hollen and the conspiracy the seedy little man had brought to their doorstep. Now that he had resolved the loose ends to a difficult situation, he would ride to Havendale and claim her.

  He’d ridden all night, through the rain, then by the guidance of a full moon, anxious to reach home. The roads were mire and the horse’s flanks were mud-caked. As he rode into Fairview, he studied the old place where he had spent most of his childhood, first under Eliza’s tutelage, then beneath her motherly hand. To all things, he thought, an end comes, and he felt no sorrow to let the estate go. And how much more content would Darcy be to accept his proposal if it meant living along the Potomac, near the family she loved?

  He drew up, wondering what Eliza would say. Surely she’d be happy as well to leave this place of grim solitude with her daughter. The idea of restoring River Run raced through Ethan’s veins as much as it had with Hayward. He would rebuild, start a new legacy, and at last bring Darcy and her mother together again.

  When he came through the door, Fiona met him with a broad smile. “Dear me, you are a sight, Mr. Brennan. Give me your coat and I’ll clean and dry it by the fire.”

  “I hoped you wouldn’t have noticed, Fiona. You have gotten too old to wait on me.”

  Fiona put her hands over her hips and huffed. “No, I am not, sir. Age is in the mind, and I’m young inside mine. Besides I would be unhappy if I was retired from taking care of you and Eliza, don’t you know.”

  Ethan slipped off his coat and handed it over. “How is she?”

  “Worried over you, and anxious about Darcy. You know I am too, sir, but full of joy that I shall see her again. That child meant the world to me. She was so bright and sprightly when little. You say she is the same even now. Pretty too, I imagine, just like her mother.”

  With a sigh, she laid his coat over the back of a chair and turned it toward the fire. Ethan thought about what she had said, how loved Darcy was.

  “She is all that you say, Fiona. And she is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on—inside and out. There is no reason to worry.”

  “Well, Eliza cannot help herself. She fretted over you traveling in this foul weather, that you might catch cold. I can tell you, we both long for summer days at River Run.”

  He drew his neckcloth away from his throat. “After Darcy and I are married, we will be leaving England to start a new life there.”

  Fiona’s eyes lit up and she yelped. “All of us, sir?”

  “All of us, Fiona.”

  He nudged the old servant’s chin, and went upstairs where at the landing he met Eliza. A change had come over her, as if a dark cloud had lifted and a golden dawn had risen over her. No longer were her eyes forlorn. No longer did she wear her hair tucked beneath a mobcap. It hung clean and fixed in soft ringlets, pulled back from her face by a satin ribbon. Today her eyes were bright as the amethyst at her throat.

  Eliza’s fingertips touched the pear-shaped gem and smiled. “I will give this to Darcy when I see her, Ethan. Hayward said the color matched my eyes.”

  “She will treasure it, I’m sure.”

  “Still, I wish you would use this to pay Hollen.”

  He kissed her cheek. “No.”

  “But if it will help …”

  “It isn’t necessary.”

  They went together into the small sitting room to talk. Eliza sat down close to the window. Ethan noticed how she glanced outside, as if she were expecting someone. He sat down in an overstuffed chair across from her.

  “Hollen handed over the remaining letters and promised to quit his association with the person who hired him on pains of arrest.” He drew the letters from his inside pocket and handed them over.

  Her eyes filled. “Praise God.”

  “Yes, an answer to prayer. Hollen was pleased with the amount I offered, that it was enough for him to leave Derbyshire, hopefully never to return.”

  “I had written them so long ago. That they even remain to this day is a miracle.” Eliza looked over at Ethan. “I will be able to give them to Darcy from my own hand. Then she will see after reading them how much I loved her, how much I missed her.”

  Ethan went on to tell Eliza about his ride over to the inn where he discovered Hollen was staying, an ancient place made of stone, pitted windows, thatched roof, that smelled of rum and ale, tobacco smoke, and English cookery.

  “There is an inn of that kind along the Potomac trail. I wonder if it is still there.”

  “Most likely it is.” He stood when Fiona stepped into the room. “Is my coat dry?”

  “That it is, sir. And I brushed it down. You will look fine for Miss Darcy.”

  “You are going to Havendale today?” Eliza said, her eyes bright.

  “Yes, and I will be bring Darcy back with me.” He bent down and picked up her hands. “Do not worry. She will love you as before.”

  Fiona laughed and smacked her hands. “Eliza, my girl. God has answered all our prayers.” Eliza wiped her eyes. Fiona’s smile fled and she scanned the room. “Oh, I best get into the kitchen and make a huge supper for us all.”

  As Fiona bustled to the door, Eliza called to her. “We must have apple tansy. It is Darcy’s favorite.”

  “I will make the best apple tansy this side of the continent, my girl.”

  Eliza proceeded to the door ahead of Fiona. “Not without my help. I shall not sit idle knowing I am soon to see my Darcy again. Everything must be perfect.”

  A smile he had not seen in Eliza since his father had passed away lit her face. Grates and jangles could be heard coming down the drive. The sound drew Ethan to the window. “Surely Hollen has not changed his mind and dared to return with more demands. I’ll thrash the little beggar,” he said.

  Eliza paused at the door. She laid her hand against the jamb and listened. Then she turned. A feeling seized her heart. It seemed familiar, like the moment she saw Hayward riding his horse down River Run’s dusty lane toward her after the war. He’d come back to her battle-scarred, starved, his face worn but shining bright as the noonday. She joined Ethan at the window to see a pair of men alight from a wagon and then move to the rear and aid another from it.

  Islands of gray parted in the sky. Mist clung to the earth, and she wiped her eyes thinking it were her vision. But the mist remained and strengthened as tears welled. Scarcely breathing, without motion, she watched on. With great care the two men held the one who struggled to find his footing. She could not see his face, for it was bowed against his chest. But something within said she knew the man. His hair, aged silver, hung loose about broad shoulders, broad shoulders that reminded her of …

  He looked up, caught her gaze, and Eliza’s heart throbbed. She gripped the windowsill, and it rushed through her the identity of the man she beheld. To cry out, to shout his name, stuck in her throat. Her feet became weights and she could not move. Tears escaped her eyes, drifted down her cheeks. Every sunrise, every scarlet dawn, every starlit night that had come and gone gathered together. Time had passed quickly since the last moment she saw him retreating from her, as she stood at the rail of a ship.

  He wished her no more, stopped loving her, and banished her to an unknown fate that promised ill. Darcy, their child, was the property of her father, and she would be denied her, forced to live a secluded, lonely life.

  She whispered, “I came to you long ago. Now you come to me. How sad it is—the years that have separated us.”

  Ethan touched her on the shoulder. “Who is it, Eliza? What is it you say?”

  Her hand covered her trembling mouth. “Oh, sweet Lord.”

  “You know those men?”

  “I know one man.” She nodded. “It is Hayward.”

  A su
rge of strength passed through her and she dashed from the room, down the staircase with her hand sliding along the railing. She reached the door, Ethan behind her, and flung it open. She stepped out and stood still upon the threshold. Hayward lifted his head and freed from his guardians, fell to his knees before her. The wind swept back her hair, and she stared down into his eyes with all the old feelings of rejection rising to the surface. How painful it still remained that he had not forgiven her for succumbing to another man’s affections and by it bearing a child—a daughter lost so young.

  Ethan stood beside her, and when overcome by the sight before her, Eliza’s knees buckled. He held her up and laid her head against his shoulder.

  “Eliza is not able to face this, sir. Perhaps you should leave. Return later when she has recovered.”

  Hayward’s eyes filled and sorrow covered his face. “Please, young sir. I have come so far.”

  Reverend Reed stepped forward. “And he is not long for this world.”

  Eliza’s heart plunged to a deeper depth of sorrow. She could not turn her face to look at him and allowed tears to burn her eyes as they had so many times before. “He rejected me and may have had no heart to forgive me. But mine remains true to my husband. Yet, I cannot speak to him now.”

  Reed stepped closer. The verger helped Hayward to his feet. “Madam, Mr. Morgan has made great pains to seek you out. He is an ill man as you can see by his countenance. Will you not allow us to bring him inside? He has no other place to go.”

  Eliza drew away from Ethan, and took in a deep breath. She moved forward and Hayward reached out, gripped her hand, and kissed it with ardent fervor. Slowly she drew it away.

  Ethan helped Hayward stand. “Of course, sir. Bring the gentleman inside.” He aided Hayward through the doorway, while Eliza stood aside.

  In the foyer, Fiona stood back with her hand at her throat and her eyes round as saucers. “I cannot believe my eyes. ’Tis Mr. Hayward.”

  “A posset, Fiona,” said Eliza. “And anything else you can think of that might give Mr. Hayward comfort.”