Beside Two Rivers

10





When the front door opened, and Missy could be heard speaking to the rider, Mari Breese rose from her chair and met her at the dining room doorway. She rushed back in, breathless, waving a letter in front of her, as if to calm her beating heart and abate the warm day. “We’ve news.”

Darcy rose from her chair. “Then … it was not Mr. Brennan?”

Mrs. Breese shook her head. “Oh, dear me, no. Why should it be Mr. Brennan? No, a courier has brought two letters from England. Mr. Breese, did you hear me?”

William Breese looked up from his newspaper, then over his spectacles.

Mrs. Breese held the letter out in front of her and studied it. “ ’Tis strange, but this one is for you, Darcy. Oh, I’ve been dreading this day, but here it is. I don’t know whether it is wonderful or distressing. You may go and read it alone or to us aloud.”

“I shall read it alone, Aunt—later.” And she set it down on the table in front of her.

“You should read it straightaway for it comes from your grandmamma.” Mrs. Breese scooped up the letter and handed it back to Darcy. “Now do you understand why I am so distressed? Or is it excitement? I know not which.”

Conceding to her aunt’s wishes, Darcy broke the seal and unfolded the page. Her uncle tucked his inside his waistcoat pocket. Her cousins sat in rapt attention, not moving a muscle or saying a word.

“She wishes me to visit her,” Darcy said as she read.

Moaning, Mrs. Breese sat down in the chair. “I knew it. Finally she’s chosen a time when she is old and ailing to make such a request. Is she ailing, Darcy?”

“She does not say.”

“Why does she not ask for your older cousins? They are her granddaughters, too. Will, why has your mother only asked for Darcy?”

Uncle Will pinched his brows. “I do not know, Mari.”

“Have you slacked in writing to her?”

“I have written to her often. You know that. And I inform her about the girls and how they are doing. It is difficult being so far apart.”

Mari put her hands on her lap. “Perhaps you should have never left England.”

“And missed out on marrying you? I would not change that for the world, my dear.”

“Then why does she not come here instead and live with us? She could have since the war ended.”

“She is old and settled in her home. At her age, to uproot her would be difficult if not disruptive to her health.”

Mrs. Breese wiggled nervously in her seat. “Well, go on and read your letter. It may shed more light on the situation.”

He drew out the letter, positioned his spectacles and read. “Nothing more to add, other than she hopes we are all well. She says her joints are full of rheumatism, and that Langbourne is taking care of the estate very well.”

“Nothing about sending Martha to her?”

“Not a word.”

“Well, I am glad for it. I would worry so if both she and Darcy left home.”

“No need to worry on that account,” Mr. Breese said, tucking the letter back into his pocket. He drew off his glasses and looked at Darcy. “You are of age, Darcy. The decision is ultimately yours.”

“I suppose I should honor her request,” Darcy said. She looked down at the letter in her hands and thought of Ethan. She might see him again.

Mouths fell open and Mrs. Breese shifted in her chair. “So quick to decide, Darcy?”

“She knows to do the right thing, Mari. It is only natural she should wish to meet her grandmother,” Will Breese said.

“Then I suppose we must send Martha with her. Darcy cannot travel alone. It is too risky.”

Martha looked shocked and upset. “I do not want to go. I would be unhappy in a dark house with an old lady. What would I do there but pine away for home?”

Darcy knew to intercede. “Aunt, Martha has an attachment here, and it would be wrong to take her away from him.”

Mrs. Breese arched her brows and smiled. “An attachment? Who is it? Give me his name, Martha.”

“The new physician, Mama,” Martha replied shyly. “Remember, we met him in church. He is very respectable.”

Mari Breese sighed. “Oh, him. Yes, Dr. Emerson is well regarded, though I have not spoken to him much or seen him for any ailments. So, I suppose you are right. You should stay home, Martha. But Darcy? I shall worry the whole time she is away.”

With a gentle smile, Darcy picked up her aunt’s hand. “I would not want that.”

“I am astonished. You told me over and over you love this place too much to leave it. Do you even understand what this means?”

“Very much so.”

“You would be sailing across the ocean, which is most treacherous and dull.”

“I have always wanted to experience the sea.”

“You would be landing upon a land foreign to you. You do not know the towns there, and how shall you find your grandmother’s house?”

“I speak the language fluently and shall carry a map. Besides, Uncle Will shall give me clear directions—if I decide to go. And there are coaches that take people wherever they need to go.”

Her cousins giggled at her comment. Mrs. Breese scowled at them with a severe frown. “You will no doubt get lost,” she said, turning back to Darcy.

“I have an excellent sense of direction.”

“How does the address read?”

“Havendale, Derbyshire, England.”

Darcy’s aunt pinched her brows together hard and shook her head. “Surely that is not enough. Will, you cannot let her go.”

Darcy rose and embraced her aunt. “If you wish me to stay then I shall.”

Mari Breese blinked back tears. “You are good to not worry me.” She sighed, looking happy she might keep her charge at home.

But Mr. Breese slapped the newspaper down. “You mustn’t decide on your aunt’s account, Darcy. Your grandmother has asked for you, and she must have good reasons for doing so.”

Mari Breese turned upon her husband with a look of disapproval. “I cannot imagine the reasons.”

“Think, my dear,” he replied, folding his paper. He set it aside and looked over at Darcy. “I’d say her life has been lonesome without Hayward. He was her favorite child. I on the other hand was brushed off when I announced my plans to leave for America and study its flora. She thought it a silly idea and that I was too young.”

“Oh, if only she could see your watercolors, Papa,” said Martha. “Perhaps Darcy could take one to her.”

“Perhaps,” said Mr. Breese. “And I should think it would bless her soul to see at least one grandchild before she dies.”

Mrs. Breese huffed. “She treated you abominably from what you have told me. I would think that enough to object to such a request.”

“That was long ago, my dear, and has nothing to do with Darcy.”

“Well, perhaps you should go with Darcy, and take Martha anyway just to spite her for not asking for her as well. You cannot let our niece go alone.”

“I will consider it. But she did not ask me to come, now did she?”

“No, but why should that matter? You can make up your own mind.”

“Indeed I can, and I will. And Darcy can make up hers.”

Mrs. Breese bit her lower lip. “Oh, but if you go, then I shall be left here alone with the other girls, and who should protect us?”

“You, my dear, are a bundle of contradictions. You cannot keep your mind settled on one thing. Instead you rush back and forth between this idea and that,” said Mr. Breese, his face flushed. “Make up your mind.”

Darcy hoped the conversation would end before her uncle made an outburst that would push her aunt to crying.

Darcy cast her eyes down in thought, her throat tightening all the more as her aunt continued to sum up reasons why her uncle should accompany her, why he should not, why Darcy should not go and so on. Once again, the past reared up before her, causing rapids of questions to tumble into her mind.

She glanced over at her uncle. “Uncle Will, you think I should go?”

“You may not ever have another chance. Come with me.” He made a swift gesture to his wife that she stay put.

Darcy followed him to the study situated across from the sitting room, where upon his desk were notes and drawings of seeds and plants. He flung open the doors to a bookcase. From it, he took out an old stoneware tankard where he kept a bit of money, out of his wife’s sight and without her knowledge. He opened the lid, took out a leather pouch, and placed it into Darcy’s hand.

“I have kept this for many a year, knowing someday God would lead you from home. Your father left it for you.”

Darcy could not stop her breath from catching. “He did? He cared that much?”

“He thought it would come in handy one day. If you must go to your grandmother, this will help you along the way. Life is too short, Darcy. You must pray to make the right choice. Remember, God has a plan for your life.”

“Whatever his plan is for me, this part of it came unexpected.” She looked down at the pouch in her hand. “It is exciting and at the same time frightening.”

Mr. Breese patted her shoulder. “Adventures always are. I have no doubt this one shall be grand if you decide to embark upon it.”

She kissed his cheek. “I would write often and be back home within a year.”

“Do not make any such a promise as to time, Darcy. You never know how short or how long a journey may be,” he told her, rubbing her chin. “I will look forward to your letters.”

“I suppose the idea of you going with me is out of the question. Aunt Mari and the girls need you here.”

“Perhaps we can arrange for a chaperone.”

“That would cost money. I will be fine without one.”

“Yes, they can be troublesome, shadowing your every movement.” Mr. Breese lifted her hand and closed her fingers over the pouch. “One way or another, you will need this. If I could afford for the entire family to take a long holiday, I would arrange it. But it isn’t possible. My duty is here with my wife and the girls.”

Darcy pushed back the tears welling in her eyes. “What was grandmother’s letter to you like?”

“Blunt. She did not ask me to visit her.”

“I am sorry, Uncle.”

“I daresay she has forgotten me for the most part. But I have not forsaken her, Darcy. The Bible says not to despise your mother when she is old. I have written many times and asked her to come live with us. I have even sent money. At times I have felt guilty for being so far away from her now that she is aged.”

Darcy wiped her eyes. His words saddened her.

“You’re heart has been low these past few days,” her uncle said. “What is it?”

Darcy forced a smile. “I think deeply on things, Uncle Will. That’s all. Besides all this, I admit I am troubled over Mr. Brennan.”

He placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “Hmm, obviously that slip of a girl, Miss Roth, upset you. Is there something I can do?”

“She said, or rather implied, my parents brought shame to our family. Is this true?”

“Tittle-tattle. Your father was a brave patriot, and your mother endured those war years without him. She kept River Run and the mill at Israel Creek running.”

“Yes, I have not forgotten what you have told me,” said Darcy. “I’ve always felt proud of them.”

“You have every reason to. It was not easy keeping River Run going while he was away. I have always felt sorry for the letter I sent your mother, when I was told the British had hanged your father. She had to live with grief all that time.”

“But what joy there must have been when she learned the truth,” Darcy said. “I vaguely remember my father’s homecoming. Strange, I mostly recall the buttons on his uniform and him carrying me through the hall. He loved my mother, didn’t he?”

“As much as any man can love a woman.” He crossed the room to his desk, took out a key, and opened a drawer. He showed Darcy a thick, folded parchment. “Your father showed up on my doorstep with you in tow to tell me your mother was dead and handed me the deed to River Run, saying it should be given to you upon your marriage. He said he could not care for you, that you needed a mother, and so left you with us. He never told me more, but I could see his mind was affected.”

For a moment, Darcy held the deed in her hands. River Run would be hers one day, but only upon the day she wed. “Such love. Such honor.” She looked back at her uncle and handed him the document. “Why would people speak unkind things about them?”

“Do not listen to idle gossip. There is no shame.” He tucked the deed back into the drawer and closed it.

“Mr. Brennan stopped calling because he believed their lies. He refused to attach himself to someone like me, according to his letter.”

“I shall ride over to Twin Oaks and have a word with Captain Rhendon. I will not stand for it. I’ll not have my family spoken ill of. Dear Lord, Eliza is in her grave these many years and they still speak harshly of her. Surely God frowns on such disrespect.”

Darcy took a step closer to him. “Uncle, why is there no gravestone for my mother at River Run?”

“I do not know, Darcy.”

“It is not right that she should not be remembered in that way. When I return, I will see it is done. And one for Ilene as well.”

She kissed his cheek and left for her room. Night swallowed up the twilight, and she sat on her bedside, gazing out the window at the misty land before her, a tumult of emotions flooding her heart.