Potomac 02 - Beside Two Rivers

by RITA GERLACH

  Eyes widening, Charlotte gasped. “What? How dare you speak to me in that manner? I am just as upset as you are.”

  “How can you treat this event with such coldness and think only of yourself and your inconvenience? I wish we had never come here.”

  “Well, no one forced you. You may leave at any time.”

  “I was forced. Grandmother was forced. She should have died in her own bed at Havendale, not suddenly taken from the home she lived in for decades and placed with strangers.”

  As if a dagger struck through to her core, Darcy dashed from the room. At first, she stifled the want to cry. But she could not prevent the tears from welling. She covered her face with her hands and allowed them to fall. She had not realized how much she had grown to love Madeline.

  Charlotte swept out into the hallway. In a forced show of sympathy, she caught up with Darcy. “Is there something a servant can bring you? Wine, or perhaps some sweets? They always lift my spirits.”

  Darcy stood still and silent.

  “Well,” huffed Charlotte. “I did not think you cared so much for the old woman.”

  Darcy looked at her. “She was my grandmother, Charlotte. Is there no sorrow in you at all, no sadness at least for me?”

  Charlotte lifted her brows. “Please mind yourself while you are in my house, Darcy. I will send for the undertaker. I suppose she would want to be buried beside her—let me see—two husbands?”

  “She would. And you need not worry yourself. I will take care of everything.”

  “My husband would not approve. I’ve sent for him.”

  “You knew where to find him?”

  “Of course. I know where he goes when he is away from me.”

  Darcy wiped her eyes dry. “Where is Mrs. Burke?”

  “Oh, I meant to tell you about that. Seeing I have enough staff at Meadlow, I will find her a new situation.”

  “She will stay with me. I have an obligation to her.”

  Charlotte gave Darcy a mocking smile. “I daresay I do not understand you. You have no duty to a servant. The best thing for her is to be placed in a household where she will work and be cared for. Is this the view in America, that you treat servants like family members?”

  Darcy drew in a long, slow breath, turned away and left Charlotte in the gloomy hallway with her maid standing behind her. There was no consoling poor Mrs. Burke. Darcy found her weeping in an upstairs bedroom, so small it could only fit a single bed and dresser. Darcy poured her a glass of water and made her drink it.

  Mrs. Burke drew out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I knew it were coming. God rest her soul.”

  “You were good to her, and I thank you for that, Mrs. Burke. Now Charlotte tells me she will find you a new position. But I would be happy if you came with me back to America.”

  Mrs. Burke smiled a moment. “You are sweet to offer, miss. But my home is England. I have family in the north, a rather large one actually. I am at an age where I can retire in peace and be near them.”

  “But how shall you live?” Darcy asked.

  “I set money aside over the years—for a rainy day—and that day has come. My sister is a spinster, and she will allow me to live with her. My brothers are farmers with wives, children, and grandchildren. The good Lord knows I shall be happy.”

  On the floor, at the foot of the bed, Maxwell whined. Darcy picked him up and set him in Mrs. Burke’s lap. “He is yours now. You will take care of him, won’t you?”

  Mrs. Burke cuddled the little dog close. “Oh, I shall. Thank you, Darcy.”

  “My grandmother would have wanted you to have him.” She ran her hand over the dog’s head, and then heard a horse gallop down the drive. Her heart skipped. Had Ethan received her note? It had to be him. She rose and rushed over to the window, threw back the curtains and peered down into the courtyard.

  “Is it Mr. Brennan?” Mrs. Burke said.

  Darcy’s hopes were dashed when she saw Langbourne swing down from the saddle in his black cloak, the pale morning light showing on his angry face. “No. It is Mr. Langbourne.”

  “Dear, Lord.” Mrs. Burke set her handkerchief aside and joined Darcy at the window. “We shall surely have an unpleasant time now.”

  Disappointed, Darcy stood back, squeezed Mrs. Burke’s hand, and went downstairs to meet him.

  33

  By the time Darcy stepped off the last step into the foyer, Langbourne had cast off his hat and cloak. A cold draft blew against her as a servant closed the front door, but did not abate the fever racing through her nerves. She fixed her eyes on Langbourne as he removed his gloves.

  “Where is my wife?” His voice sounded raspy, his tone irritable.

  Darcy faced him. “Upstairs, I believe. She hoped you would come.”

  “A most inconvenient time for Madeline to have passed on. I suppose you shall blame me.”

  Darcy said nothing, only looked him straight in the eye. With an uneasy gait, Langbourne turned to the maid. “Bring me something to drink. I don’t care what it is as long as it will soothe my throat. There was a hard wind riding here.”

  When the maid gave her curtsey and was gone, he approached Darcy. She felt a shiver wash over her, but remained where she stood. He drew her hair between his fingers. “You, at least, made it to Meadlow in good health. I have no doubt Charlotte will grow jealous of you, but do not mind her cold ways. She never interferes.”

  Darcy recoiled. “You go too far, sir.”

  “Not far enough.” He looked up the staircase at the sound of footsteps. Charlotte appeared and Darcy observed with perplexity the genteel smile that graced her mouth upon sight of her wayward husband. She loves him. Why?

  “You came so quickly,” Charlotte said.

  “Well, when someone dies in one’s house, one should take care of the details. I could not leave it up to you to deal with. You do not have the head for it or the fortitude. It was, however, ill-timed.”

  “As if this could have been marked on a calendar,” Darcy said. “It is not Charlotte’s fault. Perhaps if you had left Madeline at Havendale, she would still be with us, and you sir, would not have been so put out. I told you she was ill and could not travel.”

  He sneered. “There’s that bold tongue again.”

  For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes. The contention between them flared. Coupled with the grief she felt, her loathing of him grew to unbearable proportions. She drew her skirts around and rushed back up the staircase to the room given her. She locked it, then threw herself across the bed and wept.

  A funeral carriage drew up to a rear door at Meadlow. Two men dressed in black carried the body of Madeline Morgan away. Darcy asked to accompany them back, but they shook their heads at her and said it was something just not done.

  Charlotte knocked on Darcy’s door and spoke to her through it. “Everything is settled. You should stop weeping, Darcy. You must make plans as to what you will do now that Madeline is gone.”

  “I wish to go to Fairview and then home,” Darcy answered back.

  “Then go. I will not stop you.”

  She listened to Charlotte step away. Neither she nor Langbourne cared what happened to her, and they had sent Mrs. Burke away the moment the funeral carriage left. Still, she wept, until her heart grew calm and her tears dried. Ethan had not come and she yearned for him. When the maid came to her room with a fresh pitcher of water, Darcy questioned her.

  “You gave the note to the coachman?”

  “Yes, miss. He said he’d post it the first chance he had, which I think would be either at Castleton or even Manchester. It will take time.”

  “There is no one here who could have delivered it?”

  “No, miss. Sorry.”

  After the maid left, Darcy looked over at her cloak lying across the back of a chair. The mantelpiece clock ticked as she paced the floor. “I can do this. I’ve hiked the river paths and climbed the cliffs. I sailed across the ocean to England alone, and walked to Havendale. I do
not need to fear.” Then she got down on her knees and bent her head in her hands. “Help me, Lord. I cannot stay here another minute. Show me the way. For thou art my rock and my fortress; therefore, for thy name’s sake lead me, and guide me.”

  She had to travel light, and so she placed only one set of clothes in her bag and closed the latch. Picking up her cloak, she drew it over her body, and fastened the tassels at her throat. Then she slipped out the door, went down the staircase with her head held high, and walked away from Meadlow without a look back.

  34

  Dew lay on the grass and crackled beneath Darcy’s shoes. Walking at a steady pace, she had no worry for rain. The joy of knowing she was headed for Fairview, for the warm embrace of Ethan, drenched her soul. She’d see her mother, her poor lost father. And finally, they’d sail away across a blue welcoming ocean back to America, to the Potomac and the home she loved.

  After passing through the gates, she stood a moment looking down the road. If they had come from Havendale that way, then the logical thing was to head in that direction. Yes, to the south, and then beyond Havendale she’d come to Fairview. On she went, keeping to the road where a marker pointed the way toward the villages nestled in the Hope Valley. Prints from horse and wagon were deep in the mud; trees sparse, and old Roman walls lined the road.

  She found herself walking on a hill overlooking a vale. The wind bore through her cloak and fought its way in to chill her limbs. She wrapped it closer against her body and shivered. Reaching an outcropping of stone, she climbed it to see farther into the valley. She stood on a rise of rock that jutted up from the earth in layers of gray limestone. It came faintly to her at first, the sound of a horse pounding over the mossy turf. She turned and when her eyes fixed on the rider heading her way, she cried out, “Ethan! Ethan!”

  He slowed Sanchet, stopped and looked toward the sound of her voice, then urging his mount with his heels, he raced the horse up the slope toward her. Anxious to meet him, Darcy took a step down, then another.

  “Ethan!” she called to him. “I am here!” She watched him spur his horse to a quicker pace and her heart raced with each beat of Sanchet’s hooves.

  Halfway down the cliff the rocks began to slip. Then they gave way. She cried out, reached and grabbed for something to keep her from falling. As she slid down the ledge, the rocks cut into her hands and arms. With nothing to hold her, she felt only space about her, as if time had slowed. Her cloak spread out like the wings of a bird, her arms outstretched. Then the air within her lungs was forced out when she landed on the ground several feet below. The world went black, then returned in a daze. She heard a horse halt near her, heard it blow out its nostrils. Hurried steps came to her; Ethan’s voice was so anxious and alarmed.

  Opening her eyes, she beheld him kneeling over her, his eyes flooded with worry. “Darcy. Are you badly hurt?” he asked breathless.

  “I have had a bad fall. When I saw you, I wanted to climb down to you. I have never had such a bad fall before.”

  “Tragic as it is, something like this was bound to happen. What were you thinking to climb way up there?”

  “You know … I am naturally curious.” She found it difficult to inhale, to speak.

  He arranged her hands around his neck and went to lift her. Pain shot through her body and she felt the blood rush from her face and pressure pulse through her temples. “It hurts to move. My legs feel numb.” Alarmed at this, she felt tears well. She forced them back when she saw the great distress that sprang in Ethan’s eyes.

  “We must hurry.” His arms went beneath her and he gathered her close against his breast and carried her. Before them was a grassy ascent beside the broken line of rocks. Up the hill he went with her pressing against him, shielding her face from the wind. Reaching Sanchet, Ethan wished he could plunge his boot into the stirrup and swing up.

  “Keep your arms about me if you can, my love, and hold tight.”

  Darcy locked her fingers. “I shall try.”

  “We have a long walk ahead, but we will make it.”

  He hurried on with her in his arms, descending the hill to more level ground. Sanchet followed, shook his mane and snorted. Though pain coursed through her body, and her legs seemed weightless, she felt safe with her arms around his neck, and his arms holding her close against him.

  The next things Darcy was aware of when she opened her eyes were the flame of a candle and the darkness of night through the windows in the room where she lay. She heard a small clock ding the hour of nine. Figures moved about the room and she heard them whisper. Someone lifted her hand and pressed kisses against her fingers.

  “Ethan?” She gazed up at him. His eyes were warm for her.

  “I am here, Darcy.”

  “Am I at Fairview?”

  “Yes, darling.”

  “What happened?”

  “You fell. Lie still.”

  “Yes, I fell. Stupid of me, wasn’t it? How many times does this make that you have come to my rescue?”

  “A few. But that is why God put me here—to watch over you—to love you.”

  Darcy could feel the glow in her eyes as she gazed at him. He was her guardian, her protector, planned from the beginning of time.

  She tried to sit up. When she could not, fear shot through her. “My legs.” Frightened, she reached down. “I cannot feel them. I cannot move them.”

  Another person approached, a face she did not know, a man with great white whiskers lining his jaw, and a shock of gray hair neat about a round face. “Miss Darcy, I am Doctor Viers. You have had a terrible injury. Lie as still as you can.”

  Darcy ceased struggling and looked up at him with questioning eyes.

  “You can thank Mr. Brennan for carrying you all the way to Fairview and then riding several miles to bring me back. I am rarely called to this part of Derbyshire, for it is a long way for me to travel, but he explained how urgent it was that I come.”

  Darcy looked over at Ethan. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  The doctor lifted her wrist and timed her pulse with his watch. “The fall has caused paralysis to your legs. Now, in time, if you are careful, you may recover. But there is the chance you may be permanently crippled. It all depends on the extent of the injury you incurred.”

  No. It could not happen to her. She had to return home, walk the river paths, and climb the bluffs. She had to ride and fish, dance at country balls, and sit in her favorite spot in the little church near River Run. How could she be any kind of a wife to Ethan as a cripple?

  “You are wrong. I can walk. See, let me show you.” And she threw back the sheets and covers, and pushed her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Darcy, no.” Ethan stopped her.

  She waited, looking into his eyes, trembling.

  He asked Doctor Viers to leave the room, and when the door closed, Ethan cupped his hands around Darcy’s face. “You must be patient.”

  “I am damaged.” She lowered her eyes and began to cry. “I do not expect anything from you. I release you.”

  “You think I love you any less? You think I would abandon you? I love you, Darcy.” He drew her into his arms and embraced her hard. “You are the dearest thing to me and you are to be my wife.”

  “A crippled wife. No, Ethan.”

  “And as my wife,” he went on, “I expect you to listen to me.” He said this with a quick smile. “I know how hard that will be for you to do, but I insist upon it. We will post the banns, be married in a fortnight, and then leave for Maryland. Your father left us River Run, and with what money I acquire from the sale of Fairview, we will restore the house and buy anything you wish to fill it with. Not only that, your mother and Fiona are coming with us.”

  “My mother and Fiona? I remember Fiona. She was good to me.” A strange memory ran through Darcy’s mind. She saw herself in Fiona’s arms beneath a floor hugging a doll, looking up at the light seeping through the crack. “There was a time she protected me.”

  “Yes, a
nd she and your mother cannot wait to talk to you. They are just outside the door.” He rose to call them.

  Darcy held out her hand. “First, what has happened to my father?”

  Ethan’s smile left his handsome face. “His suffering ended the hour before I returned with you.”

  Darcy let out a long breath, grieved he had gone, sorry she had not been there to hold his hand. “And so did Madeline’s. She passed in her sleep at Meadlow.”

  Ethan lowered his head. “I am sorry over both. But glad they are in heaven together, Darcy. Try not to grieve too hard.”

  “And my mother? Is she well?”

  “In body, but her heart is broken that you are hurt. She wants to talk to you. May I call her in?”

  Darcy’s heart lightened. Would her mother look the way she remembered, her hair dark, with motherly hands that held her, and a voice tender and sweet? Now to be reconciled seemed to vanquish the former pain, the losses she had endured, the trial she faced.

  She pressed Ethan’s hand against her cheek. “Please, Ethan. Call her. Tell her I need her now more than ever.”

  35

  Two weeks after the Reverend Reed read the banns in church, Darcy and Ethan took their vows. Darcy marveled at the stained-glass windows and thought about her grandfather, wondering how many couples he had married in the course of his ministry. Although she loved Fairview, Ethan let the estate go and sold it for a fair sum, the new owner swearing he would pull the old house down and replace it with a larger one.

  Eliza and Fiona accompanied them on the voyage home aboard a pretty sailing ship called The Dove, reminiscent of that first vessel that had dropped anchor in the St. Mary’s River a century before. As in the days of Noah, the dove returned with an olive branch in its beak. They were returning to River Run with peace and joy in their hearts.

  Upon arrival at Point Lookout, Ethan paid for a post chaise, and after miles and miles of bumpy, dusty roads, they reached the end of the lane that led to the Breese house. Ethan called up to the driver to stop, and once the horses were settled, he lifted Darcy out and carried her down the sunny path toward the house and the welcoming arms of her dear cousins.