Beside Two Rivers

5





Ethan looked out into the crowd of dancers. Amid the laughter and happy voices, one would think he would have joined in the merriment. But Miss Roth held him near and refused to partake in the Americans’ country-dance. She pleaded he not leave her side, but allow her to sit awhile until an oldfashioned gavotte played.

“It is vulgar the way Americans strut and whirl,” she said. “These are the cream of their society, yet they glide and trip like the lower classes back home. There is no grace, no elegance. It must be due to their bloodline.”

It did not show on his face, but Ethan was annoyed at her narrow-minded remark. “Why should bloodline have anything to do with dancing, Miss Roth?”

“A talent for dance is inbred, sir. I doubt any of these people descended from English nobility but rather from indentured servants and headstrong rebels.” She then snapped her fan shut and sighed. “Therein lies the answer, I believe.”

“Your prejudice fails to flatter you, Miss Roth,” Ethan told her.

“Oh, it is not prejudice, Mr. Brennan, but simple observation of what is true.”

“Observation is jaded by prejudice.”

“Is it? Well, you shan’t catch me whirling and leaping about like a common herd-girl.”

“No doubt I shall not. You are too tightly wound.”

Miss Roth’s mouth fell open. “I hope you meant that as a compliment, sir. Or shall I think otherwise?” She leaned over to her friend seated beside her. “Miss Byrd, you heard what Mr. Brennan said. Have you an opinion on the matter?”

“I am sure Mr. Brennan means to be kind, Miss Roth,” Miss Byrd replied. “To be tightly wound, as he put it, means you are dignified.”

Miss Roth sucked in her cheeks. “You think so?”

“I know so. That is how it has been explained to me.” She smiled, her teeth the color of old ivory, her lips thinning out as she spoke.

Ethan took in a breath, bored with their shallow assumptions and senseless comments. He gazed over at Darcy, and then looked back at the snobbish Miss Roth. Why people ever thought he had considered the lady as a potential mate was beyond all reason. She was dull, critical, and slighted the religious—qualities he scorned in a woman. His father would not have approved. “Consider the words of Solomon, my son,” he would say. “Find a wife whose price is far above rubies.”

Now his eyes beheld a girl with both virtue and spirit. Her passion for life sparkled in her eyes, illuminated her face, and echoed in her laughter.

“It is shameful,” Miss Roth went on. “The girls here expose their ankles on every turn.”

Ethan refused to comment. Why should he? If he were to voice to Miss Roth what he really thought, it would give her more reasons to insult each and every girl in the room, for she had a jealous nature.

“Ethan?” Miss Roth stood and tapped his arm with her fan. “Ethan, why do you continue to stare at that girl? What is she to you?”

He leaned close to her ear and said, “You are overly jealous when you are not the center of attention. A trait that is unbecoming in a woman. Try to behave yourself.”

Affronted, she pressed her lips together. “It slipped my mind, sir, that some of your ancestors were rebels. Is that why you show such favoritism?”

He smiled. “I thank you for the reminder. I am not ashamed.”

“Perhaps that is why you are attracted to Miss Darcy.”

“She is different, I will admit.” He would not be surprised if Darcy were to kick off her shoes and dance barefooted. In a way, he hoped she would.

“I cannot understand why you are attracted to her.”

“Whether or not I am, it should not alarm you.”

“It does, for I thought we had an understanding.”

“If my interest in others has offended you, or breached any inkling of an understanding, have I stepped over the line? Your envy is unseemly.”

“And you are blinded by a pretty face, sir. I must open your eyes.”

Miss Byrd, along with their chaperone that sat behind them, sucked in a breath. “Miss Roth, you will remember your manners,” whispered her chaperone. “You will be seated.” And she yanked at her sleeve.

“Leave me be.” With a lift of her head, Miss Roth moved closer to the line of dancers. Darcy stood close enough to hear Miss Roth. “I would not doubt that every man in the room has already exhausted Miss Darcy’s mysteries.”

Ethan twisted his mouth. “That is too low even for you.”

The lady’s face flushed. Her eyes glistened with self-pity. She stared at him, raised her face, and then lowered herself with a sweep of her gown to the chair. Ethan stepped away and removed himself as far as possible from a woman whose mouth was like a continuing dropping of rain upon his brow. He strode toward Darcy when he saw how pale her face had gone, and how sad her expression.




After hearing what Miss Roth said, Darcy’s hands dropped from the man who held them and she stood stunned. She lifted her eyes to the gentleman and excused herself. Then she caught the venomous glance of Miss Roth and the proud look that spread over her face. Darcy wanted to confront her, but no good would come of it. She would not lower herself to Miss Roth’s level.

She should not care what Miss Roth thought of her. What did her opinion matter? The lady had nothing to do with what course her life took. Ah, and she was freer than Miss Roth to be who and what she was. She would wear her locks as it pleased her, dress in simple clothing, wear hats that she and her cousins made from the reeds cut from the riverside. She would wear what she wished even if it were secondhand, speak to whom she liked whether rich or poor, and not take anything Miss Roth said to heart.

If only it were so easy.

The heat in the room grew as oppressive as Miss Roth’s words. Whispers rose and she heard the name Morgan pass from person to person. People stared—some with disdain, others with curiosity. She questioned why. Had she done something to deserve such looks? Why had her last name drawn this kind of attention, along with Miss Roth’s rude comments?

And so, Darcy slipped between the dancers and headed toward the door leading to the terrace outside. Before she could pass through it, Ethan stepped in front of her.

“It is too fine an evening to leave, Miss Morgan.”

“You will excuse me, sir.” Her voice trembled and the tears that swelled in her eyes burned.

“Once again, I have intruded. I only want to help.”

She gathered her gown in her hands. At every turn, Ethan met her. “I am in need of air, sir.”

“It is stuffy in here … much like my traveling companion Miss Roth.” He moved her to the open door where it was cooler. “I can tell you heard what she said. She was sure to say it loud enough. I am sorry. It was uncalled for.”

His words caused her to smile. “I must praise her that she is not afraid to voice her opinion. But for her rudeness, for speaking what she thinks of me in public, that I condemn.”

“And justly so.”

“I was told Englishwomen are reserved and take care of what they say and to whom they say it. So untrue this must be if Miss Roth is any kind of example of an English lady.”

“She is snobbish. It was wrong of her to insult you the way she did.”

“Indeed, for she does not know me at all.”

“Whether she knew you well or not, it is not her place to pass judgment.”

“She judges me solely upon appearance …”

“Which is lovely, if you do not mind my saying so.”

“Oh, not true, sir, for I am plain. I have not the elegance of your Miss Roth.”

“She is not mine.”

“Oh, yes. As you said before.”

“If you would observe her, Miss Roth’s beauty is pretentious.” He leaned down. “Lots of powder and rouge.”

Darcy’s palms grew moist and she wished she had worn her gloves. The caller announced the next dance. “Please form the set, ladies and gentlemen, for ‘The Flight.’ ”

She knew the tune, the romance of it. “May I have the honor?” Ethan held his hand out to her. And when hers became lost in his, he drew her beside him out onto the floor. Once they faced each other they stood a few feet apart, his eyes resting upon hers. The music drew them near and their hands reached out. His fingers touched hers, and then slid into her hand.

Darcy picked up where they had left off. “I suppose you think flattery will make me forget Miss Roth’s cruelty.”

“Not at all. Flattery does not cure the sting of false words.”

“Then you need not strive for it, sir.”

“Surely an honest compliment helps in some way.”

“I suppose it does. I am grateful God looks upon my heart, and not my outward appearance, and will do so even when I am old and wrinkled from head to toe.”

He faced her smiling, released her hands, and bowed in time with the other male dancers. “I admire your faith. But is it so wrong for a man to marvel at a pretty woman? Are we not to regard God’s creations with awe?”

Darcy fixed her eyes on Ethan with wonder and did not reply. A sensation prickled over her skin and something whispered into her mind, he is the one. “I do not know what to think of you, sir.”

Ethan’s stare warmed. “I hope you will think of me as your friend.”

They were silent after that, and when “The Flight” came to an end, Darcy’s aunt came through and bumped into her—again.

“Darcy, we are leaving. I can no longer abide the heat.” Mrs. Breese turned to Ethan. “It was a pleasure to have met you, Mr. Brennan, though I must say Miss Roth was very rude to our Darcy, and I pray she eats her words one day soon, and that you change your mind about her.”

Ethan nodded in agreement. “May I pay a call upon your family before I leave for England? I promise to come alone.”

Mrs. Breese gave him a broad smile. “We’d be pleased if you paid us a visit.”

He looked at Darcy. “And you will be there?”

“Perhaps.” She gave him a coy look and left him in the stuffy, crowded room.