Beside Two Rivers

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.”

Darcy tried to be reassuring. “By my own free will I chose to come with you.”

“A difficult decision to choose between your parents and me. You should honor them over me.”

“I will see them once I know you are settled.”

“How dare Langbourne send Hayward away?” At last Madeline remembered, but for how long? “My son had no strength to argue, did he?”

“He is in good hands now that he is with my mother and Mr. Brennan.”

“Yes. I have no doubt of that.”

“Ethan will bring them to Meadlow after he receives my letter.”

“Indeed they shall,” said Mrs. Burke. “Mr. Hayward shall be right as rain by then.”

Madeline’s eyes glistened. “You think so, Burke?”

“I know so,” Mrs. Burke nodded. “All he needed was some tender nursing and his wife to improve.”

Darcy waited to speak, thinking back on how she had broached the subject of Madeline staying with the family before. To think of her living with Charlotte in an unfamiliar place pressed severely on Darcy. It would have made things easier if the driver had been willing to change direction. She felt like a prisoner inside the dismal carriage.

“Grandmother, return with us to Fairview when Ethan comes. I know it would mean another journey for you, but you could live with us, you and Mrs. Burke.”

Madeline stroked Maxwell’s ears and sighed. “I do not know, child. I am so weary. But that is not to say I don’t want to. I do.”

“Then it is settled. We will all leave together.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Burke with a smug look and a wiggle of her head. “That will certainly put Mr. Langbourne in his place.”

The carriage turned at a bend in the road and climbed a hill. Madeline laid her hand over her heart. “Tell the driver to stop. I do not feel well.”

Panicked, Darcy opened her window, stuck her head out and called up. “Stop at once. My grandmother is ill.” The driver slowed the horses and pulled to the side of the road. He jumped down and appeared at the window.

“What now, miss?”

“My grandmother is not feeling well.”

“Is she? Well, there’s not much I can do about that. We will be at Meadlow shortly.”

“Fairview is closer, is it not? We will pay you for your trouble. Now turn and take us there at once.”

“You are wrong, miss. Meadlow is closer, not even a mile away. Fairview is back that way and I’ll not turn.” He eyed her and drew in a deep breath. “I have my orders.”

Darcy balled her fist and groaned. She heard the snap of the coachman’s whip, and the carriage rocked and creaked past a scattering of poor hamlets, houses with thatched roofs, small windows where few faces passed behind sullied glass. The horses turned at a sharp bend in the road. A chill rushed through Darcy at the site of a gibbet swinging from a tall post, within the iron cage tattered ribbons of rotting clothing, over the exposed bones of a highwayman. She looked away, disgusted at the scene, and prayed for the soul that met his end in this barbaric way.

Madeline had drifted back to sleep against Mrs. Burke’s shoulder, and stirred when the driver called out, “Meadlow, ladies!”

The carriage entered through the gates and swept along to a circular drive, the gravel crunching beneath the spinning wheels, until the horses slowed and came to an easy halt. Darcy leaned forward to look out the window at the grand house that stood on a flat span of deep green lawn. Two stories were graced with large mullioned windows set within a façade of blushed brick, offset by a black lacquered French door with bright brass fixtures. Two chimneys climbed against the racing clouds and spewed smoke. Gnarled ivy grew over the facade, leaves quivering in the wind.

Darcy watched the front door open and Charlotte step outside dressed in pale gray silk, looking as lifeless as the Grecian statue that stood at the foot of the steps. She felt frozen to her seat, wishing she did not have to go in.

With a forced smile, Charlotte gathered her lace shawl over her narrow shoulders. “Welcome to Meadlow.” She spoke in an elegant tone, yet her eyes told Darcy she had no joy in their arrival, no anticipation of having female company to fill her lonely days. They were intruders.

Once Mrs. Burke set her feet firm, Maxwell jumped out and sniffed the ground. Two female servants stood behind Charlotte and she motioned for them to help Madeline. They hurried down the steps as the driver guided her out, and with cane in hand, and the two maids supporting her, Madeline was led up the steps and into the house.

Darcy watched Charlotte pat her hair back and wondered why she wore it so severe. Tight and combed into a stiff chignon, a thin nimbus of brown encircling her face, giving her a stern, aged look. Perhaps if she wore it loose and in twists she would look more feminine, thought Darcy.

Handed out, she gathered up her hem, walked up the steps and stood in front of the forlorn mistress of Meadlow. She held her hand out to Charlotte. But Charlotte ignored the gesture and looked down the lane. “My husband did not accompany you?”

Compassion for this abandoned wife filled Darcy. “He did not.”

A crestfallen look fell over Charlotte’s face and she looked away. “Then he comes on horseback. Did he say when I should expect him?”

Darcy paused in front of Charlotte. “I am sorry. He made no mention of it.”

“Did he say what business keeps him away?”

“I only know he was closing the house. Perhaps when he is finished he will make his journey home.” Darcy hoped her words gave some hope to Charlotte.

A weary sigh escaped Charlotte and she glanced at Darcy. “If I have no expectations, I shall not be disappointed, shall I? I pray, Miss Darcy, you will never know the pain of being trapped in a loveless marriage.”

Darcy’s smile faded, and she ached for poor Charlotte, who jerked away and turned back inside the house. Her mind continued to stir with empathy. To be neglected and betrayed seemed an overwhelming blow. Did Charlotte know about Langbourne’s mistress? Darcy would not tell her. It would hurt Charlotte, and even if she did know of his infidelity, to speak of it would open her wound.

When Darcy entered the foyer, she drew off her cloak. “I need to send a message, Charlotte. May I have ink and paper, please?”

“On the table over there.” Charlotte pointed it out with her eyes.

As quick as her feet would carry her, being stiff from the long ride, Darcy gathered the quill in hand, dipped it into the inkwell and wrote ‘Come to me, my love. I need you. I am at Meadlow north of Havendale. Kiss my father and mother for me’ and tell them I am praying for them.

She folded the note and handed it to Charlotte’s servant who stood closest to the door. “Please see this is sent to Fairview without delay. It is urgent.” The girl nodded and took it from Darcy’s hand.

With Mrs. Burke on one side, and Darcy on the other, they aided Madeline to an upstairs bedroom. Not at all what Darcy expected, the room had a warm feel to it, the furnishing lavish, a gray marble mantelpiece framing the hearth. Maxwell jumped onto the bed and laid himself down with his eyes intent upon his mistress.

“I hope you will be comfortable here, Madeline.” Charlotte stood by the door.

Without turning, Madeline said, “’Tis a pretty room, Charlotte. I should like to go to bed.”

Mrs. Burke hurried to open a trunk and take out Madeline’s nightclothes. Darcy helped by removing her grandmother’s shoes. When she glanced back, Charlotte was closing the door. She looked up at her grandmother, noticing the faraway gaze glistening in her eyes.

“When you see your Uncle Will again, please tell him how fondly I spoke of him … that I love him and have missed him.”

“I will, Grandmother. But you may be able to do that yourself one day soon.”

“You know he wrote to me faithfully, that is until that revolution happened and then few letters ever made it into the country. I was glad when they resumed again.”

“Uncle Will and Aunt Mari are both avid letter writers,” Darcy said, setting the shoes in front of the fire. “We will write to them and tell them all that has happened.”

This made Madeline smile, though faintly. “Describe each of the girls to me again.”

Darcy began with Martha, and painted a picture of each of her cousins as vividly as she could, their beauty, their likes and dislikes, their talents and endowments. And she told Madeline about the different flowers her uncle collected and how he painted them in his portfolio. For the moment, the conversation was a great distraction to their present troubles and seemed to help Madeline rest easy.

“I am proud of my son.” Madeline folded her hands across her chest. “What wonderful young ladies my granddaughters must be. If God sees fit that I should live longer and go to Fairview with you, then I shall go to America, Darcy. There is nothing left for me here.”