Beside Two Rivers

Part 3


For nothing is secret that shall not be made manifest; neither any

thing hid, that shall not be known and come abroad.

—Luke 8:17 KJV





21





Before Ethan received the urgent message that called him back to Fairview, Eliza sat in her sitting room under the window sketching. She traced from her memory a child’s face, then another’s, and thought of her two daughters she so loved. Darcy was as close as she would ever be—at Havendale. Ilene, her babe, rested in the arms of God.

A long sigh slipped from her lips and she hung her head within her hands. “Show me, Lord, what I should do. My heart aches to see my child, and you know how I still grieve over Ilene. And Lord, I miss my husband. Wherever he is, please speak into his heart to forgive me.”

It was a prayer she had said daily all these years. Waiting for an answer, she lifted her eyes to the scene outside. A carriage lumbered toward the house, halted, and a man dressed in black stepped out. She pressed her brows. Who could he be?

A moment later, Fiona stepped inside the room, her lips pursed, her movements agitated. “A man named Hollen is here, my girl. Should I let him in? I do not like the looks of him.” Fiona adjusted her mobcap and waited for Eliza’s reply.

Rare to receive a visitor at Fairview. Eliza closed her sketchbook and stood. “What does he want?”

Fiona shrugged. “I do not know. But he says he has business to discuss. He was here once before and spoke to Mr. Ethan.”

“Ethan is not here. Send him away.”

“I told him Mr. Ethan was not at home, but he insists he will stay until he returns.”

“I suppose I will see him.” She tidied the crimson throw pillows on the settee, and then smoothed the locks of her hair. Long ago it had been black as midnight, but the years had added silver.

She remained seated when Hollen entered the room, with her hands set on her lap. He paused just inside the door and bowed low to her. He stepped forward, but she stayed him with her hand and then gestured to the chair across from her. Hollen stopped short, stood motionless for a moment, then swayed over to the seat and sat down.

Eliza’s hands were clasped, her posture as perfect as a well-bred lady’s. “Mr. Brennan is not at home. Is your visit important?”

“It is, madam. Perhaps it is better that I speak to you any-way—privately.” He glanced over at Fiona, then back at Eliza. “You see, my visit concerns you.”

Curious, Eliza fixed her eyes on the man. “In what way does it concern me, Mr. Hollen? I do not believe we have ever met.”

Hollen settled back and drew in a long breath. “We have not, but I have had you described to me.” He lifted his finger and made a circular motion with it, directing it to her hair. “I was told you once had raven hair and violet eyes, and that you were very beautiful. May I be so bold as to say you are still to this day?”

Eliza saw the snake lurking behind the warm eyes that stared back at her. “Such comments are reserved for my husband,” she said.

“But he is dead. Or should I say separated from you?”

Eliza turned her head aside. She looked over at Fiona, with an expression she knew Fiona would understand. “Fiona, I believe the kettle is whistling. Could you …”

Fiona nodded and stepped out. Eliza saw her shadow pause outside the door that she left ajar. Good. She will listen to every word.

Hollen went on speaking of things that meant little. Commenting on the room, its arrangement, the furnishings, and then her sketchbook, which he reached over and grasped. He flipped through the pages and praised her drawings. “Ah, this is especially good. Who are these girls? Yours perhaps?”

Shocked by his question, she did not answer. Affronted that he, a total stranger, would look at her drawings without asking, she reached her hand out to him to give it back. When he did so, she set it on her lap, as if to safeguard the memories behind the pictures.

“Why have you come to Fairview, Mr. Hollen?” She would be firm with him. No longer could she abide his flattery—his prying questions and uncomfortable stare.

“I have spoken to young Mr. Brennan, and had hoped to find him at home. But, like I said, it is better that I speak to you, madam. You see,” and he leaned forward, a wicked light in his eyes, “I have come to collect payment from him for a number of private letters a client of mine has in his possession—letters written by you, madam, to Hayward Morgan while you lived at Fairview with the late Mr. Brennan.”

A cold chill rushed through Eliza. Every muscle in her body stiffened. Her hands tightened around the edge of her sketchbook. “They are forgeries.”

“Authentic as the day is long, madam.”

“That cannot be. I wrote to my husband in America. How could anyone in England possibly come by them?” Could Darcy have carried them here? Had Hayward kept them and given them to her? It is not possible.

“I am here to collect payment for them,” said Hollen.

“How much?”

“Six hundred pounds. Five for my client—the rest for my troubles.”

She gasped. “We do not have that kind of money. We are poor.”

Hollen huffed. “Fairview is a large house. You can come by that amount easily. But do not fear. Perhaps Mr. Brennan has already acquired the money and when he arrives home, he shall give it to me.”

She glanced toward the door, saw Fiona’s shadow move. “You will excuse me a moment.” Avoiding his stare, Eliza went to the door and stepped out. Fiona drew close as she whispered, “Send Mr. Raverty for Ethan. Tell him I am in trouble and need him. He has taken the road leading to Havendale.”

Wide-eyed, Fiona touched Eliza’s hand. “I fear to leave you alone with that man for a moment, my girl.”

“I will be all right. Do not worry.”

Eliza turned Fiona toward the front door and the faithful servant hurried away.

When she turned back inside the room, and sat across from Hollen, he looked over at her without an ounce of sympathy. He rose and went to the mirror on the wall. Then he adjusted his neckcloth.

“I’m glad you sent your servant out of the room. But she eavesdropped by the door and should be punished for it.” He turned back to her with a proud lift of his head. “Now back to our business.”

“How do I know you are not lying to me, Mr. Hollen?” said Eliza. “Your claim is farfetched.”

“I have proof.” He drew from his coat an uneven stack of yellowed pages, worn at the edges and tied together with coarse brown twine. He flung out his hand and showed her one. She glanced at it and saw the fine handwriting that was her own. With her heart swelling in her breast, she took it in her hand, paused a moment, then unfolded the page. It took her back many years, and she remembered the day she wrote this particular missive. Her eyes drifted down the page.

Forgive me, Hayward, as I have forgiven you. Please allow me to come home. We can begin again with God’s help. I know what you did was done in haste and anger. You were hurt and acted on your pain. Do not keep Darcy from me. No matter what I have done, it is wrong to keep her from her mother.

Crushed that Hayward never replied, she refolded the page and fought the burn of tears coming up in her eyes. An old wound had been begun to weep, and she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. There had been no resolution, and she was forced to go these many years without Darcy, forced to hold onto the memory of her face, and the agony of constantly thinking of her, wondering how she fared.

“How did your client come by these?”

“That I do not know.”

Bewildered, Eliza gripped the letter until her hand shook. “Is your client Hayward?” Dear God, let it not be so. Could he add any more salt to this wound I carry?

“Rest assured he is not. Still, I am not at liberty to reveal his name.” Hollen spoke with an air of amusement, but looked as serious as the mission he undertook.

“Whoever he is, he has no right to them. They are my letters. What kind of evil person is your client? And you, for that matter?” Inflamed, Eliza stepped up to Hollen and ripped the letters out of his greasy hand. Then, before he could stop her, she tossed them into the hearth fire. They curled, blackened at the retreating edges.

Hollen’s brows shot up and his mouth fell open. “That was pointless, Mrs. Morgan,” he shouted. “My client shall be furious.”

Eliza put her hands to her breast and glanced at Hollen. “I do not care how he feels.”

“You should. He has you in his power to do with you as he pleases.”

“The letters are destroyed. He can do nothing to me,” she said, trembling.

Hollen muttered under his breath a few harsh words and shook his head. “My client is not an idiot, madam.”

“His plan to harm me and extort money from Ethan is over. Now, leave this house at once.”

“You think him such a fool as to give me all the letters?”

Shocked, she drew in a breath. “What?”

“There are others in his possession, which he is sure to make known if you do not pay.”

“If he is so vile to carry out his threat, he will reap God’s judgment for it in the end. I am a woman living in my grief. Has he no sympathy for my despair?”

“The remaining letters shall be given to your daughter, who resides at Havendale for a short while, I am told. It is my understanding you do not wish to make contact with her due to the nature of your sinful life. She would be tainted, no doubt. Since you are refusing my client’s offer, she will soon know you are alive, that her father cast you out, and that you have rejected her, knowing she is near. In turn, whatever tender feelings she has had for a mother she thought long in the grave will die. Once she knows the truth, you will be truly and utterly dead to her.”

Eliza brushed her hands along the fabric of her gown. Her eyes smarted with tears, and she could find no words to contest Hollen’s prediction. The painful cadence that beat in her breast caused her to tremble. From around her throat she freed the tiny gold clasp and handed him her pendant. “This should meet the amount he demands.”

She dropped her treasure into Hollen’s palm. He glanced down at it, shook his head and handed it back. “What can my client do with this? It would be too inconvenient to find a buyer. You must do that, then give me the money.”

She lowered herself to the settee and stared at the fire in a daze, where the flames consumed the letters. She felt lightheaded, put her hands to her temples, and pressed into them. She could hear Hollen speaking, as if he were in a tunnel far from her.

“I will wait until Mr. Brennan arrives home,” she heard him say. “I have nothing else to do today. Perhaps you should go lie down, madam. You look pale.”




Ethan had given Eliza his word that he would not reveal her to Darcy. At one time, while in America, he saw the reasons for it. She used words such as shame, disgrace. Eliza believed the childhood memories of a good mother would be shattered and replaced by hate. But now her reasons were no longer valid in Ethan’s eyes, and surely not in God’s. It would be wrong to keep the truth from Darcy, and he had been prepared to tell her all, until called home on a most urgent matter.

With the emergence of the letters, which Ethan had yet to see, the chance stood firm that Darcy would know the truth sooner or later. Someone possessed the content, and whether he paid for the letters, a threat would exist. What would she then think of him if he concealed the fact her mother resided but a few miles from Havendale?

By the time he reached Fairview, curtains of misty rain swept across the land. Smoke rose from one of the chimneys and vanished before it reached the swift leaden clouds. Outside on the gravel drive stood a rickety carriage drawn by a pair of chestnut nags. They shook their manes and blew vapor from their flaring nostrils. The driver, his coat collar turned up to shield his neck from the drizzle, touched the tip of his tricorn hat to Ethan.

Fiona stood inside the front door wringing her hands. Her brows were drawn down with concern for Eliza. Ethan knew she regretted that she had allowed such a person as Hollen to enter the house in his absence.

“Oh, Mr. Raverty must have raced that old horse of his. You are here so quickly, Mr. Ethan. Good thing you hired him to clean out the stables this season, otherwise I don’t know who I would have sent.”

“Be sure to give him a double helping tonight.” Ethan drew off his hat.

“I will, sir. My girl is in the sitting room with that man,” she said, as she followed him inside.

Ethan drew off his coat. “How long has he been here?”

“Too long. I should have told him to go away.”

“It is not your fault, Fiona. I am glad you let him in. Now I can deal with him once and for all.”

After he patted her hand to comfort her, he headed toward the room where sunrise after sunrise had poured through the windows, painting the walls golden. But on this day, a grim loneliness had entered, and he was determined to slay it.

Ethan’s boots stomped over the floor as he pushed open the double doors and walked inside. The curtains were drawn from the windows, and the meager light outside crept in and fell onto Eliza’s face. She raised her eyes to meet his. Tears were in them as if all the sorrow of her past had risen up from a silent grave. A festering wound that had long scarred over had been broken open to bleed.

Near her stood Hollen. A smug look on his ignoble face indicated he had had plenty of time to badger poor Eliza into believing her worst days were to come. He had come dressed in the same suit of clothes as before, with his hair flat against his skull. His eyes flickered with false sincerity, while his fleshy, ruddy lips drew tight over yellowed teeth. More repulsive than a snake slithering through tall grass, he rubbed his hands together as if they were cold to the bone.

“Ah, home at last, Mr. Brennan.”

“I wasn’t expecting you, Hollen—not today. Why are you here?”

“I came to conclude our business,” he said, with that scheming grimace that was his smile.

“I should throw you out.”

With a tilt forward, Hollen inclined his head. “No need, Mr. Brennan. I was on my way.” A triumphant grin passed over Hollen’s lips, and he picked up his hat to leave.

Surprised, Ethan glanced at Eliza. “I know everything, Ethan. You need not worry any longer,” she said.

“You do not have the money,” he said.

“My amethyst necklace can take care of that. You must sell it at once.”

“It was a gift from Father.”

“Yes, and he would have approved that I use it to remove this burden from us. You understand, do you not?”

Ethan shifted his stare over to the blackmailer. His temper pushed to the brink, he strode over to Hollen and shoved him through the door. “Out, you weasel! Go back to your gutless client.”

Hollen turned back to Eliza, bowed, and tipped his hat. “Good day, madam.” Then he passed through the door with his shoulders squared, but at a quicker pace. Concerned for Eliza, Ethan called Fiona into the room.

“Strong tea, Fiona, if you please. Eliza is unwell.”

She grasped his hand. “Sell my necklace, Ethan. It is to safeguard Darcy. I do not care what they do to me.”

“I have just come from her. I was about to tell her everything when I received your message.” He sat down beside her.

“Darcy …” She looked up at Ethan with a searching gaze. “Is she all right?”

“She grieves for you and her father. I found her at the ruins.”

Eliza sighed. “Ah, it must have saddened her.”

“She is searching for answers, Eliza. Did you not teach me that the truth sets us free?”

She touched his cheek with her fingertips, smiled, and dropped her hand in her lap. “I have been so wrong—and you so right. During my morning devotions I read this verse in the book of Lamentations. It has stayed with me all morning, and now I know why. “I am in torment within, and in my heart I am disturbed.” God help me, Ethan. I must make things right with Darcy.”

Ethan kissed her cheek. “Tomorrow morning I will ride to Havendale and bring her back with me. Prepare yourself to meet with her. She is to be my wife.”





22





After Darcy watched Ethan ride off, she made her way back to Havendale at a slow pace under a turbulent sky. Her heart overflowed with emotion and her thoughts brimmed with joy. Ethan loved her, adored and cherished her. His heart had been as broken as hers, and now healed, they could love again. So filled with elation, she could have fallen on her knees there in the grass and praised God that the truth behind their misfortune had come to light.

After she settled the mare, she passed inside the house unseen. Quiet prevailed in every room. The only sound within came from the clocks ticking on the mantelpieces. Upstairs she passed her grandmother’s room and peeked inside the door. Just as she had left her, Madeline sat in her chair asleep. Not wishing to disturb her, Darcy went on to her room.

She penned a letter to Martha about the events of the day and imagined the excitement her cousin would feel while reading her letter. Darcy pictured her seated alongside the rest of the family in the cozy sitting room reading it out loud. They’d all pay rapt attention. Darcy smiled and set the quill down, sealed the letter, and set it beside another to her Aunt Mari and Uncle Will.

“I wonder if they miss me as much as I miss them.” She placed the letters on a silver dish at the edge of the desk. Mrs. Burke would take them to be posted later. At suppertime, she went downstairs, entered the kitchen, and inhaled the comforting scent of apples, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Mrs. Burke was preparing a tray for Madeline.

“She says she hasn’t the strength to come down the stairs.” Her brow wrinkled, and she shook her head.

Darcy picked up a napkin from the table. “Shall I go up and sit with her?”

“No need. Stay here by the fire. I need you to watch that pie for me. Can’t let the crust burn.” Taking a plate down from the rack, Mrs. Burke heaved a breath. “How was your outing?”

“Wonderful.” Darcy popped an apple slice Mrs. Burke had missed into her mouth.

“On a day like today? So dreary and you say wonderful? You are full of life, Miss Darcy. Most would not venture out on the moors in this weather. It must be the adventurous spirit you inherited from your father.”

And my mother.

Darcy’s stomach gurgled with hunger. She sat in the chair before the fire and pulled bits of bread from a loaf and dipped them into the butter dish. The butter had melted from the heat, and tasted sweet on her tongue. Mrs. Burke set a plate of roast beef and braised carrots in front of her.

“I won’t see you waste away. Now eat up.”

Darcy had more than the desire for food tonight. Her mind raced with thoughts of Ethan—Ethan and his sultry eyes, his loving kiss, his warm embrace.

Mrs. Burke smiled. “It does me good to see you eat so well. Not like Mr. Langbourne, who hasn’t a care, neither the courtesy to inform me when he will be home. His rule is that meals always be ready for him in case he does arrive.”

“But that could be days,” said Darcy.

“Days? Often weeks or months. And then I don’t know if Miss Charlotte will be returning with him or not.”

“He was just here, and he has left again?”

Mrs. Burke pressed her mouth hard and narrowed her eyes. Her stiff gestures told Darcy she did not care for Langbourne or approve of his behavior. Although she was in Madeline’s employ, Langbourne was lord over Havendale. She had to obey him, whether she liked it or not. He had the power to throw any servant out if he pleased, and she wondered how long he would tolerate her visit. Would he command her to leave?

“He came home while you were out. He looked angry. Stomped about, shoving past me as if I were not to be considered. He questioned me about the tramp I’ve seen, asked if he’d been around. I dare not say. I avoid him when he is that way, and so should you. He left the house again with those men that do only the Almighty God knows what kind of business.”

The vinegary housekeeper pushed through the kitchen door with the tray, while Darcy stared out the window and watched the clouds drift apart. A misty sky surrounded Havendale, pale blue, muted gray on the horizon. Would it bring snow, or would the wind shove the clouds off and leave the sky cold and barren?

Cupping her chin in hand, she wondered where Langbourne had gone. What kind of business drew him away? How could he stay so long apart from Charlotte? Not once had Darcy seen Charlotte smile. Perhaps he kept a mistress somewhere and Charlotte suspected it. Obviously, he did not love his wife, and Darcy felt sorry for Charlotte.

Her thoughts turned to Ethan. He had looked so troubled when he rode off. It must have been something of great importance that drew him away. And so she spoke a quiet prayer for him—and for those in his household. She felt the urge to go to her grandmother’s room and tell her where she had been and that Ethan had declared his feelings for her. But Mrs. Burke returned.

“Madeline’s tired tonight, more than usual.” Mrs. Burke set the tray down on the table. The small china plate that had slices of cheese on it was missing.

Darcy shoved her plate aside. “Did she ask for me?”

“She did, but only that she wondered where you had been all day.”

As Mrs. Burke spoke, a zephyr whipped up outside and rattled the windows in the kitchen. She paused, then said, “I did see that man again today—the tramp. I beckoned him from the window to come near. I’d given the poor soul food through the window, but he turned and walked away.”

“I believe he is the same man I have seen.” She went on to tell Mrs. Burke about the day on the moors, and then the Brightons’ affair. “Mr. Langbourne made me promise not to say anything. But since you have already seen him, I had to tell you.”

“I’m glad you did, miss. Perhaps we can help him together.”

“At the Brightons’, I was close enough to him to see he is sick and starving.”

“Dear me,” said Mrs. Burke. “You must have been frightened.”

“He did not hurt me or anyone else. But he thought he knew me, or that I looked like someone he knew.”

With a start, Mrs. Burke’s brows shot up. “He did? That is indeed strange. From now on you should not go out alone.”

Darcy smiled a little. “I am not afraid. If I should see him again, I’ll urge him to accept some food from us. It would be the right thing to do.”

“But there are others who would fear for you, miss. You should not cause any to worry. So, if you should see him again, do not approach.”

How could she do such a thing? If the man were hungry, she should feed him. If he were cold, she should give him warmth. Would it be so dangerous to give a cup of cold water to one so thirsty?

As she pondered all this, the fire in the hearth flickered against the gusts that raced down the flue. Gray ash scattered out onto the flagstone floor. The wind whispered and moaned through crack and crevice as night fell. She walked down the hallway with a candle to light her way. Loneliness for Ethan and home weighed heavy upon her, as the cold darkness swallowed the remnants of the day.

The golden flame of her candle caught Darcy’s eyes. It reminded her that hope lived as long as it had an open heart to beat in. Past a large window, she approached her grandmother’s bedroom. Weak candlelight edged the threshold in a thread of amber. She smelled the age-old scent of rosewater, heard her speaking to Maxwell as if he were her child.

After a quiet tap, Darcy turned the brass handle and moved the door in. Madeline lay in bed with her Bible in hand, spectacles poised on the tip of her nose, and Maxwell curled up at her feet. The dog lifted its head and pricked its ears when he saw Darcy, then whimpered. Madeline looked over at Darcy and gave her a weak smile.

“May I come in, Grandmother? Mrs. Burke said you are tired. But I wanted to see you before I retire to my room.”

“I thought you had forgotten me, Darcy.”

“I could never do that,” Darcy said, shutting the door behind her.

“I have not seen you since you went to Bentmoor. Tell me about it. Was it a pleasant evening? Did you meet a lot of people?”

“I enjoyed the music immensely.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “But a gentleman stepped on my hem and tore it.” She could smile at it now.

Madeline huffed. “How dreadful. How unfortunate. You left, of course.”

“Shortly afterwards, yes.” Darcy decided not to mention the poor sojourner. It would alarm her grandmother, cause uneasiness, and Madeline would be against Darcy accepting any more invitations to Bentmoor. She worried whenever Darcy ventured out alone. To be kept inside four walls and a patch of ground could not be borne. Her adventuresome spirit would suffer and she’d go mad with boredom. Silence regarding the wanderer meant her freedom. So she held her tongue.

As far as Ethan, she would inform her grandmother that they were in love. What her reaction would be Darcy was uncertain.

“So that is all there is to tell?” Madeline closed her Bible and set it aside.

“I’m afraid the rest would bore you.”

“I see. Well, then. Tell me where you went today. When I asked Burke she said you were out exploring, not a soul knew where to.”

“I went to St. Anthony’s. You know, the little church on the moor where my grandfather preached.”

A strange color washed over Madeline’s face. Her eyes blinked, and her spectacles fell off her nose onto her lap. “Oh? I suppose you saw the burned-down vicarage.”

“I did. I think it must have been a lovely home at one time. I imagine it was welcoming and many people came to visit, to be encouraged and prayed for.”

Madeline sighed. “My late husband should have had the ruins cleared away years ago and the house rebuilt. But he had no interest in doing so. Neither has Langbourne.”

“I know the story of the young vicar, his wife, and daughter,” Darcy said.

Surprise lit up Madeline’s gray eyes. “How? No one speaks of it.”

“Ethan Brennan of Fairview came riding along while I stood by the wall. He said the vicar had been his father, and that it was his mother and sister who perished. He also told me my mother grew up in that house.”

Shutting her eyes, Madeline turned away. “I cannot remember much of the past, especially the people in it. It is like a fog in my mind most days.”

Darcy paused a moment and gazed at her grandmother’s face. By her features, Darcy knew Madeline had been a beauty in her prime. She watched her raise her hand to her temple and with her fingertips move a lock of hoary hair back from her face. She pulled down the white mobcap that covered her crown. Dressed in a white nightgown, a wrap of white wool she wore around her shoulders. Even her bedcovers and sheets were white, her pillows and the curtains that hung from the canopy. It was as if she were wrapped in snow. Or was it a symbol of purity?

“Some things are better forgotten.” Madeline said. “Better left in the past where they belong. I think God made it that way so we would not be so sad when we age. For it seems he made us to remember happier times, don’t you think?”

Darcy nodded. “I believe so.”

“And when you get as old as I, you feel you have known all you are capable of knowing, depending on how keen a mind God gave you. Remembering to get through life is what matters.” A smile brightened Madeline’s face and she chuckled. “You must think I am on the edge of madness, Darcy.”

“Not at all. You are wise, Grandmother.”

“Hmm, perhaps, but not enough. There are things I should have done differently. But that is the way of things. We leap before we look.” She laid her hand across Darcy’s. “I pray you never do that, my girl. Always think carefully before making a decision.”

“I try to use both my head and heart.”

Madeline pressed her lips firm. “Ah, the heart. That seems to be an American notion. Here in England, we upper class strive to use our logic in situations of the heart. I hear that in America, class matters not and people marry whomever they please. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I do. But in America the rich are not apt to marry a person of lower distinction—unless they are madly in love and cannot help themselves.”

Madeline laughed. “My, my. What things must go on. But seriously, Darcy, you mustn’t go to the ruins again. It is too sad a place, and as for Ethan Brennan—I can see you love him by the mere mention of his name. He just may be the one for you.”

“Have you met him?” Darcy asked quietly.

“Not in person.”

“Then how do you know whether he is a good match for me?”

“I knew his parents. I met them at church when they arrived. She was a charming woman. Her death was tragic.”

Darcy cocked her head. “Ethan told me his father found good company later in life. She soothed his grief by being his companion and a governess to Ethan.”

“You think her noble, do you?”

“Indeed, I think she must be.”

“I shall say this much. I recall there was a great deal of insipid tongue wagging. I cannot remember why, or even her name. … I remember so little of the whole event. Yet, I have a feeling Ethan told you too much.”

“He told me he loves me.”

“Loves you? Oh, my.”

“We met last summer, in Virginia.” Darcy told Madeline the details about the gathering at Twin Oaks, how he almost ran over her with Sanchet, how he saved her from a near drowning, and that they both believed God had brought them together again. Madeline looked confused and fussed with the trim on her wrap. Her brows pinched and she worked her mouth to find the words to reply.

Darcy squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Do not worry.”

Madeline’s eyes grew misty. “It is not that. I refuse to worry, for you are to leave for home soon and Mr. Brennan shall remain at Fairview. Unless …”

“He has not asked me.”

“But he might. And what will you do then?”

“I will accept.”

“Buy your wedding clothes, Darcy.” Madeline wiped her eyes. “I think I shall pass on soon.”

“Oh, please, do not say that. Do not cry.”

“I am tired, Darcy. I miss my husband. I prayed to see you before I leave this world because you were my Hayward’s only child. I am happy to have had that prayer answered. But Hayward—how I longed to have seen him again. But I doubt I ever shall.”

Though flattered, Darcy felt sad that Madeline had no interest in the other girls or in seeing Uncle Will. She could not understand the reasons. “I wish with all my heart you could meet your other granddaughters and see Uncle Will again. I think you would like Aunt Mari, his wife.”

“I was so young when I had William, and having not seen him these many years has practically erased his face in my mind.”

Her words pricked Darcy. “That is something I shall pray returns.”

“I loved William, but your father—he was my favorite child, and I asked for you because you are a part of him. He left without saying good-bye. He knew we would not approve of him marrying Eliza. She was beneath him, you see. So he was gone. My husband sought him out, found him, but it was too late. They had taken their vows.”

Darcy embraced her. The old woman trembled in her arms, then pulled away. Such expressions of affection were not normal at Havendale.

Madeline patted down her coverlet. “Why did he not come with you?”

Her memory slipped again, but Darcy was patient. “My father journeyed west, Grandmother. No one has seen or heard from him since—not even Uncle Will.”

“And that has pained you, hasn’t it, Darcy?”

“Yes. I cannot understand why he abandoned me, and why he left River Run to decay. Uncle Will lives close by, but why he did not take it over I do not understand.”

“Perhaps Hayward asked him not to.”

“That may be. I want to believe what I’ve been told, that my father could not bear the loss of my mother, nor take care of me alone.”

Madeline straightened her back. “I am glad Hayward left you with William. No doubt he has been a father to you, Mari a mother, and your cousins sisters.”

“They are my family in every sense of the word.”

“You miss them?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Thank the Lord, Hayward did not take you with him. Think of the hardships you would have suffered.”

“I fear I would have become even more savage than what Charlotte said I was.”

A burst of understanding came to Darcy, and she pondered her grandmother’s words. All these years she had felt unwanted, unloved, and forgotten. But now she realized that her father loved her so much, he left her with the Breeses. She had a roof over her head, food to eat, and a family. Although the world beyond River Run fascinated her, Hayward had done the right thing in leaving her behind. But that he ran from his troubles by losing himself in the backwoods worried her.

She picked up her grandmother’s hands, cupping hers around the crooked fingers. They were cold. “I am sorry he hurt you by leaving the way he did. I’m sure he never meant to.”

“His love for the place you call River Run was stronger than his attachment to me,” Madeline said. “Do you care about that place?”

Drawn back to the land and river she loved, Darcy felt a yearning so deep within her soul, a summons to return, that a long, deep breath slipped from her lips. Would Ethan go with her, back to the place where they first fell in love?

“I care as if it were my life,” she answered.

Madeline laid her hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “Then you must go back to the place you love most, and remember me as you saw me—alive, and happy to have seen you, for I have seen my lost son in your eyes. Havendale is not for you. It is depressing, full of ill, and Langbourne is its master.”