Potomac 02 - Beside Two Rivers

by RITA GERLACH

  “I saw Mr. Brennan from the window,” she said, twisting free, stepping back and meeting him stare for stare. “Why did you turn him away? Why did you pull your pistol on him?”

  Langbourne shrugged. “That is my affair. Not yours. All I can tell you is you won’t be seeing him again—at least not any time soon.”

  His words cut deep, and she clenched the folds of her dress. “Why are you so bitter, so without compassion and forgiveness? Why must you control everyone around you?”

  “Because I am lord and master of Havendale. It is my duty.”

  Mrs. Burke walked into the kitchen. She paused and raised her brows, gave Darcy a glance, and looked over at Langbourne. “I’m sorry if I have interrupted, sir.”

  “What do you want, Mrs. Burke?” He spoke low and harsh, but with a hint of leniency.

  “I’ve come for the hamper of food for the journey, Mr. Langbourne. Perhaps Miss Darcy can help me? I’m glad to see she is out of her room at last.”

  Langbourne glowered. “You should have had that ready hours ago. Darcy is not a servant, and you should know better than to ask such a question or make such comments.”

  “Beg your pardon, Mr. Langbourne.” She narrowed her eyes and looked at him ready to exchange verbal blows. “I just needed help carrying it. But I’ll manage on my own.” She dragged a wicker hamper out from beneath the table. Darcy reached down to help, but Langbourne pulled her back.

  “You heard what I said, Darcy. You are not a servant.”

  She looked at him, drawing in a breath, and feeling confused by his endless cycle of contradictions. “She needs help. Why shouldn’t I give it?” Then she drew the basket up by the side handle. But Mrs. Burke gave her a little smile and a gentle touch of her hand.

  “I have it, miss. Thank you anyway.” And she stepped from the kitchen out into the hallway. Darcy could hear banging above her now—Madeline pounding her cane on the floor and calling to her, Maxwell barking. She did not wait for Langbourne’s permission, but squeezed past him and hurried upstairs, relieved he did not stop her.

  The brass knob on Madeline’s door felt as smooth as oil from all the hands that had turned it through the years. The room had the feel of emptiness, as if no one had lived in it. The bottles and trinkets on Madeline’s dressing table were packed away. Her powder box, jewel box, horsehair brush and ivory comb were inside her trunk. All that remained were the furniture and the made bed. Darcy recalled the first day she met her grandmother in this room, how it smelled sweet with rosewater. Now only a hint lingered.

  Madeline stretched out her arms and Darcy hurried to her. “Grandmother, I am here.”

  “Where is Hayward? What has happened?”

  “He is safely away at Fairview.”

  A little worry went from her eyes. “Oh, I am glad. He is to see Eliza, and she will make him well.”

  “Yes, everything shall be all right.”

  “You are the only one who understands what I am feeling, Darcy.”

  She gave Madeline a cheerful smile, hoping to lighten her burden. “Charlotte will grow weary of us and Maxwell. Then she will insist we return to Havendale. Have you ever been to Meadlow?”

  “Never. I have not been away from Havendale in twenty odd years. I found no reason to venture anywhere else.” She began to tremble. “Oh, dear. London—the city of vice. I do not wish to go there.”

  “No, no, Grandmother. We are not going to London. Meadlow is here in Derbyshire not too far from Havendale.”

  Madeline sighed. “’Tis no better, my girl. Home is where the heart is, and here in this house is mine. I raised my boys here, loved and lost my second husband here. And the churchyard on the hill is where he lies near to my first. The first was so young, you know. I hardly remember Harrison’s face, it was so long ago.”

  The sadness in Madeline’s voice brought tears to Darcy’s eyes. What a sorrowful life the woman had lived. She held her grandmother’s hand. Her veins were raised and blue, her skin cold and clammy. Each breath seemed labored, pained, and in her eyes swam fear.

  “I wish I could take you to my home along the river,” Darcy told her. “It is peaceful there, and we have godly neighbors who’d do anything for a person in need.” Madeline asked her to describe it again, and as she did Mrs. Burke opened the door and waited on the threshold.

  “They are ready for us to come down, miss. What can I do to help ease my mistress? She is so distressed.”

  “Stay with her a while, will you?” Darcy said. She kissed her grandmother’s forehead and stepped out of the room determined and persuaded she must change Langbourne’s mind. Her grandmother was too ill, too distraught to leave her home, let alone handle the journey.

  Downstairs in the foyer, Langbourne handed over the keys to a man in drab work clothes. Short and barrel-chested, he glanced up at her, and walked away after tipping the brim of his hat to his employer. Langbourne turned.

  “What is the delay?” he said, with his voice rising. “Go back upstairs and tell your grandmother to hurry up.”

  Darcy took a step down, her hand firm on the balustrade. “You mustn’t do this to her. I beg you, sir. Have pity and let her stay.”

  He pinched his brows. “Pity her? I am doing what I feel is best for her. I want that understood, and I will not repeat it again.”

  “She is too frail to travel.”

  “I will listen no longer to your unwarranted objections, Darcy. Perhaps I was wrong. I should have let you leave with that beggarly rogue or let Brennan have you. But it’s too late now. Madeline needs you to accompany her. Just think what it would do to her if you walked out that door without her.”

  “I am not like you. I am not without feeling, or compassion for another. I will stand by her.”

  The clack of Maxwell’s nails came down the stairs behind her. Darcy looked back. Madeline appeared at the floor above dressed in her faded gown and widow’s cap, her shawl over her shoulders, her arm looped in Mrs. Burke’s. A single twist of her gray hair lay over her right shoulder. Her stare chilly, she glanced down at Langbourne with a proud lift to her head.

  Langbourne crossed his arms. “Darcy says you are ill. I will have Charlotte send for her doctor once you arrive. He lives but a short distance from Meadlow.” He then dropped his arms. “So, you see. You shall be better off at Meadlow after all.”

  She made no reply. Instead Madeline met Darcy’s eyes with a soft smile. “Do not worry over me, Darcy. I know what I must do. God has shown me my illness shall pass as easily as a south wind.”

  Closer to Mrs. Burke, the grand lady proceeded down the stairs one slow step at a time. When she reached Darcy, she placed her hand through her arm and the three women went on together toward the front door.

  From the back of the chair next to the door, Mrs. Burke lifted her mistress’s gray cloak and placed it over Madeline’s shoulders. Darcy tied the tassels into a bow. She fought the lump that grew in her throat as she looked into her grandmother’s face, so calm now and resigned. Maxwell rushed ahead, jumped inside the carriage, and stuck his head out the window.

  And although the sky whirled with stormy clouds in a deepening sky, Darcy wished she could kiss her grandmother’s cheek farewell and walk off in the direction of Fairview—to the man she loved, and the parents she longed to know. But she could not bring herself to part from her frail grandmother as she held her close to her side.

  30

  Outside the gates of Havendale, Darcy drew the hood of her cloak over her hair, and leaned outside the carriage window. She called up to the driver, and he slowed the horses to a stop and looked down at her from his perch.

  “What is it, miss?” Irritation marred his face and the yellow glow from the coach lamps barely colored it.

  “You are to change course.”

  “The only course I’m takin’ is to Meadlow as I was paid to do.”

  “No, you must take us on to Fairview.”

  He wiggled his head. “I cannot do that. Mr. Langbourne’
s orders are to take you and the ladies to Meadlow. He warned me you would try to persuade me to go another way. But he pays me well enough for obeying his orders and not listening to the whim of a batty woman.”

  “Batty?” she stormed, then calmed herself. “We can pay you more,” she smiled. “There is nothing batty in that, is there?”

  “The answer is no. If you wish to go to Fairview, then you will have to wait until after we reach Meadlow.” Turning aside he shook the reins and the horses carried on down the rutted road.

  Darcy leaned back with a deep sigh of disappointment. “I tried.”

  The carriage dipped and swayed, jostling the passengers seated inside it. Darcy scooped Maxwell up from the floor and set him between Madeline and Mrs. Burke, where he nuzzled down into the creases of their cloaks.

  “Do not be distressed.” Madeline stroked Maxwell’s ears with a gloved hand. “Once we are at Meadlow, I shall be settled, and you can make your journey. Better yet, let us send for Mr. Brennan.”

  “ ’Tis a good idea, mistress,” Mrs. Burke agreed. “We shall send for Mr. Brennan the moment we arrive. Surely he will come, Miss Darcy, and without any delay. He will be glad to know you have not thrown him off. For I have no doubt Mr. Langbourne told him a pack of lies to make him think you did.”

  Madeline’s eyes lit up. “Write to him and tell him to come straightaway, Darcy.”

  “I shall write the moment we arrive, Grandmother.”

  “If there are any persons he wishes to bring, tell him to do so. You and Ethan can marry in the nearby church. I should like a little wedding. A wedding would most please me.”

  Darcy looked over at her grandmother. Her mention of “any persons he wishes to bring” made her realize she had forgotten her father and she had no memory at the moment of her mother being at Fairview. Madeline’s eyes were glazed, as if she were somewhere between the past and the future.

  “I wonder how long it will take for us to arrive at Meadlow.” Darcy drew her cloak closer. “It grows chilly and I am afraid for you, Grandmother. Are you cold?”

  “I have Maxwell to keep me warm,” Madeline said.

  Darcy gave her a little smile. “He is your best friend.”

  Madeline shook her head. “My best animal friend. You and Mrs. Burke are my best friends. Oh! What will become of my mare? We left her behind, Burke!”

  “I’m sure she is fine,” said Mrs. Burke. “No ill shall come to her. She’s safe and sound in her stall, I am sure.”

  Her lips trembling, Madeline slapped her hand on her lap. “I want Mr. Brighton to go to Havendale first thing and fetch my little horse. He’s the only one I trust to care for her.”

  “Mr. Langbourne may not allow it,” Mrs. Burke said.

  Madeline huffed.

  Darcy touched her grandmother’s shoulder to calm her anxiety. “We will write to him as well, Grandmother.”

  “That will give me ease, Darcy. You do it for me. I’m afraid I shall be too weary to put a pen to paper when we arrive.”

  “I promise I shall. Do not worry.”

  “Why are we traveling so late?” Madeline said, her tone one of growing fear. “I have no doubt there shall be highwaymen out on the road.”

  “Maxwell will stave them off with his bared teeth and ferocious growl,” Darcy told her. Madeline chuckled. “Try to sleep. I’m sure Mrs. Burke has a comfortable shoulder for you to lean on.”

  “Always has,” said Madeline.

  Madeline leaned on Mrs. Burke’s shoulder. After a moment she fell to sleep, and the clouds broke away to reveal a full moon rising along the horizon. Darcy stared out the window at the quiet fields, wondering what Ethan was feeling, what he was thinking after being forced from Havendale? Oh, but she was glad he did not challenge Langbourne any further by testing his threat. For she had no doubt he would have shot Ethan—a thought too horrible to consider.

  Ethan paced the floor of his room and raked his fingers through his hair. Darcy would not leave without sending him a letter. Something was not right, and he felt it. It clawed deep within his belly and moved up his throat, caused his hands to shake and his heartbeat to race.

  Moonlight broke through the windows, brightening the room as he drew his boots over his calves. Hayward lay in a sickroom upstairs, Eliza watching over him. Ethan knocked on the door and stepped inside. He waited and watched, for the pair were troubled with amends to be made and Ethan did not want to burden them.

  Eliza had not spoken a word as she sat on the bedside and listened to Hayward. Often his sentences were broken, incoherent. Other times he stared into her eyes and spoke tenderly, always ending with please forgive me for sending you away.

  He drew near, saw that Hayward passed in and out of sleep. “How is he?”

  “Worse, I am afraid. He is sleeping now. I listened to his pleas, to his explanations. He has lived all these years out in the wilderness among the tribes. He told me he met God there and was shown the errors of his ways.”

  “I do not doubt it. Many a man has met the Almighty in the wilderness.”

  “I see the regret in his eyes, and he has seen mine. I told him about your father, and it appeared to give him some relief to know I was kindly treated these many years.”

  “I remember.”

  “He was a good man. I miss him. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes. There hasn’t been a day gone by that I have not seen it in you.”

  She dipped a cloth into water, wrung it, and bathed Hayward’s face. “We have forgiven each other. He can rest now. It won’t be long before he is gone, too. You must call Darcy and bring her to him. And I must reconcile with my daughter.”

  As Eliza spoke, and while he observed her tender care for Hayward and the urgency in her face to see Darcy, his worry for his beloved nagged him. And how would Eliza react when he told her what had happened at Havendale and that Darcy had gone?

  He touched Eliza’s shoulder and turned her to him. “You should rest awhile.”

  “I cannot.” Eliza’s eyes glinted with tears. “Reverend Reed gave Hayward last rites.”

  “I am sorry.”

  A light smile touched her lips as she brushed the tears from off her cheeks. “It is all right, Ethan. I realize he has loved me despite his anger toward me. He would not have bothered to make the journey and seek me out if he did not.”

  “My father would have thought well of Mr. Morgan’s efforts, as well as your compassion for him.”

  “Yes. He would have urged me to forgive him.” She paused, and then looked up with sudden concern. “I am anxious about Darcy.” She stood. “Would it be better if I were to go to her alone? Which room is she in?”

  He stopped her with a touch of his hand on hers. “She is not here.”

  Eliza grabbed his sleeve. “Not here? Why? What has happened?”

  “I rode to Havendale. Langbourne met me outside. He said she went away.”

  “Away! To where?”

  “He would not tell me.”

  “You must find out.”

  “I intend to.” He raked his fingers through his loose hair and paced. Then he explained to Eliza how he insisted Langbourne allow him inside to see for himself Darcy had gone, and how in reply, Langbourne drew his pistol and threatened to shoot him. “If I had not removed myself, I am certain he would have made good on his threat.”

  Eliza’s eyes were wide. “He is lying.”

  Ethan paused. “She would have come out to me if she were there, unless …”

  “He prevented her somehow.”

  “I should have resisted.” Ethan shook his head, feeling ashamed. “I have to go back. But I cannot leave you now in such a desperate time. What can I do to help? I can find the doctor.”

  “A doctor cannot help my husband now.” Eliza reached up and touched his cheek. “Hayward hasn’t much time. He needs his daughter. You must leave first thing in the morning and find her.”

  31

  Wind drove across the moors and ruffled
the gorse grass. Clouds swept in from the east, their long shadows crossing the land, embracing the moon, and darkening the streams into deep blue ribbons. Havendale was far behind them, and the carriage rolled past hamlets, crumbling walls of stone, and square-towered churches. Darcy wished the driver would stop so she could go inside one of those sanctuaries, kneel in a pew and pray. But the whip lashed and the horses plodded on.

  She looked over at her grandmother and worried how much Madeline could take. And for this reason, she told herself again and again, she could not have let her make the journey alone, even with Mrs. Burke to accompany her, who was also aged and frail. Darcy had no idea what kind of place Meadlow was or how Madeline would be treated there. She had to see to it she’d be well cared for before taking the next step of getting away to Fairview.

  She turned her eyes to the window. The landscape seemed to blur together now with little change. Her hood lay across her shoulders, and she drew it up over her hair with gloved hands, remembering a time when her locks were soaked with the river and how Ethan caressed them back from her face.

  The carriage dipped and sprung back to the road. The jolt woke Madeline and she let out a little moan. Darcy knew her grandmother’s inner strength to endure had crumbled. If only Langbourne had listened to her and considered how a move would distress Madeline body and mind. But he would not. His word was law and his mind closed to what he called the foolish whims of women.

  “Do not weep, Grandmother. We will be at Meadlow soon, and there you can have a hot cup of tea and a warm bed.”

  “Will be better than the cold attacking me, and this horrible swaying and bumping.” Madeline pressed a handkerchief against her eyes. “But even as that shall be over, I feel a little afraid of this change.”

  “At least we are together.” Darcy adjusted a heavy wool blanket over Madeline’s knees.

  “I am grateful for it, Darcy. But you are not here by your own free will.” She leaned her head back and shut her eyes. “Langbourne forced you.”