Beside Two Rivers

7





Mari Breese wrung her hands and paced in front of her sitting-room window. Her instincts told her something awful was about to happen when storm clouds swept over her rooftop, when rain glazed the trees and filled the holes in the drive. Darcy had been gone for hours, and Mrs. Breese feared her niece would come home dripping wet, at risk for pneumonia.

“I hope to heaven Darcy did not get lost in the woods or wander close to the river and fall in.” She wiped the window with her handkerchief, gripped the windowsill and looked out. “It is Darcy with Mr. Brennan! Dear me, what was she thinking to be out in this weather?”

Mr. Breese leaned toward the window. “I don’t believe she knew it was to rain, my dear. It was a fine sky earlier.”

“I could have told her differently. The aching in my joints is a clear sign of inclement weather. Now she’s soaked through and liable to catch her death of cold.” Turning on her heels, Mrs. Breese whirled out of the room into the hallway. “Missy! Boil hot water for Miss Darcy, and put a brick in the hearth upstairs. There is clean flannel in the cupboard to wrap it in.”

Missy looked down from the upstairs landing. “But we’ve no fire in the hearths this time of year, madam.”

“Well then, make one—a small one, mind you. She’s soaking wet. You attend to her, Missy, as soon as Mr. Brennan gets her indoors.” Rushing forward, Mrs. Breese opened the front door. A brisk wind drove in a mist of rain.

The Breese girls gathered in the hallway. As one, they moved to the window beside the door to watch Ethan dismount and help Darcy down. He lifted her within his arms, hurried to the door, and stepped inside with his burden close against his chest.

“Thank the good Lord, sir.” Mrs. Breese sighed in relief. “You have brought Darcy back to us, though wet to the bone, I see.” She shot Darcy a stern look of disapproval. She would deal with her later, as soon as she could think of some kind of punishment to fit the crime of being so thoughtless—so reckless.

“It is nothing, Aunt.” Darcy brushed back her hair from her cheek.

Dolley, the youngest, began to cry. “Darcy is going to catch pneumonia and die.” She rubbed her eyes and slumped onto the first staircase step.

Groaning, Mrs. Breese hauled her daughter up by the shoulders. “Darcy is not going to die, Dolley. Now stop that crying, else your papa will give you something to cry about.” Blinking back her tears, Dolley sniffed and wiped her nose. Mrs. Breese turned to Ethan with a toothy smile. “Girls can be so emotional in these instances.”




Upon Mrs. Breese’s direction, Ethan carried Darcy upstairs to her room and set her down at the threshold. It did not feel right going further inside. She looked over at him and her eyes flooded with gratitude. He enjoyed the feeling she gave him, but disliked the pain. If she knew the true reason he had come to America, how would she react? How swift would that knowledge turn the current of her life? The temptation to reveal his mission overwhelmed him. Again, he reminded himself of his oath to the one who sent him.

“You must forgive us if it is warm in here, Mr. Brennan,” Mrs. Breese said. “I had Missy set a small fire to chase away any chill that Darcy might have, and to warm a brick for her feet. Are you chilled, sir?”

Ethan shook back his hair. “Not at all, madam.”

“You have suffered to bring her home.” Mrs. Breese scanned Ethan’s wet attire. “Dear me, it appears as if you swam to get here.”

“You need not worry about me, Mrs. Breese.”

“My husband shall provide you with a set of dry clothes, while yours dry.” She threw Mr. Breese a nod when he appeared behind Ethan. Then she closed the door.

A firm hand landed on Ethan’s shoulder. “What happened, Mr. Brennan? My niece does not appear to be herself. I can see past her soaking.”

Ethan shifted on his feet. “She is unscathed, sir.”

Mr. Breese set his mouth in what Ethan thought was a distrustful expression. When the girls poked their heads around the corner, he ushered Ethan downstairs to his study and closed the door. A square room, shelves hugged one wall loaded with books. Near the window stood a stool and a drawing table. Ethan observed a watercolor of thistles, paints and brushes, an inkwell, and a large notebook and portfolio. Bottles filled with flora specimens cluttered a table.

The older gentleman’s brows rumpled above his wary eyes. “What exactly happened to Darcy? Spare me no details.”

Ethan looked down at the puddle of water made from his boots and frowned. “She begged me not to say, sir.”

“That is just like her. She may withhold from my wife, but from me, Darcy can hide nothing.”

“I imagine, sir, she has given you reason to be concerned.”

Mr. Breese drew Ethan to the window. “She started climbing those trees at six, hiked in the forests when she was seven on to this very day. Sometimes she does not come home until after dark. She says the stars are too lovely to abandon.”

Paternal love glowed within the old man’s eyes. The way he described Darcy gave Ethan more reason to like her.

“I wonder how such an adventurous spirit was born within a girl.”

Will Breese shrugged. “I have no doubt it was passed down to her from her mother.”

Ethan fastened his eyes on the trees outside and imagined her sitting on one of the large limbs, her bare feet dangling beneath her. “So, Darcy reminds you of her?”

“Only from what I’ve been told about Eliza. I never had the chance to know her personally.”

“For a girl to be so curious holds some danger.”

Mr. Breese nodded. “Alluring, is it not, for a young man?”

Ethan, taken aback by the comment, did not reply. But he agreed. Darcy Morgan had a way of drawing him to her.

“Well, I imagine two things may have taken place this day.” Mr. Breese picked up his pipe from off his desk. “Either she lost her way and was caught in the rain, or she fell into the river. I beg the latter be not so, sir, but if it is, you have my profound thanks for rescuing her.”

“You have guessed right, sir. It was the river. Do not tell your wife. Darcy was worried she would be upset.”

“Believe me, I know how ill my wife can be over such things. Was it very bad?”

“If I had not come along when I did, I have no doubt she would have been swept away. Yet I doubt Darcy would have allowed the river to get the best of her. She is very determined.”

Letting out a long breath, Mr. Breese lowered himself into a chair. “Thank the Lord. He saved her once again. I am indebted to God more times than I can count, Mr. Brennan. Having six young ladies under my roof, with a nerve-stricken wife, is most taxing at times. I do not know what I would have done if they had all been born boys.”

Ethan shook his head. “I can only imagine yours is a lively household, sir.”

“It is that, Mr. Brennan. How to keep Darcy from the river I do not know. Marry her off I suppose, to some man that shall take her far from it.”

A strange, but vague, feeling stabbed Ethan. For Darcy to be married off to a man who would remove her from the place she loved seemed unnatural. Yet, he romanticized the idea, wondering if he could make her love him enough to leave the river and cross a vast ocean to England. But that would complicate matters.

He shifted on his feet and looked Mr. Breese in the eye. “I would imagine that would make Darcy unhappy, no matter how in love she might be with a man of your liking. The river and this valley seem to seep into every inch of her, sir.”

“You are correct to say so, Mr. Brennan. Why were you riding on this side of the river anyway, if you do not mind my asking?”

“There is a pretty stretch of land not far from here that caught my eye.”

“You are thinking of buying it?”

“I wish I could.”

Mr. Breese twisted his mouth showing his curiosity. “What would you, being an Englishman, do with such a piece of property?”

“To own even one acre of God’s green earth in America might give me incentive to settle here.”

Mr. Breese put his hand over Ethan’s shoulder. “Then you must dine with us tonight and see how the average family manages to live in this wilderness. The Rhendons, the good people they are, mirror the aristocrats. It is the least I can do to express my gratitude for your saving Darcy. She is a daughter to me.”

“You have my thanks, but I am expected back at Twin Oaks—business, you see. If I have your permission, I would like to call tomorrow.”

“You have it, Mr. Brennan. You will disappoint my wife, however. I know when she is counting on a thing, and she wanted you to save your wet clothes from ruin.”

“The clothes are of no matter, sir, and the rain has lessened.”

As Mr. Breese strode to the door with Ethan, his look was contemplative, and Ethan knew much was on the older man’s mind. “I must know, are you and Miss Roth engaged?” he asked.

Ethan paused on the threshold not at all surprised by such a question. “No, sir. But Miss Roth thinks differently in that regard.”

Mr. Breese cocked his head to one side. “It is usually the case when a man travels a great distance across the sea with a woman and her companion.”

“I have given that impression, I know. But Miss Roth is the kind of woman I could never marry, let alone love. Her behavior has shed some light on what I’d be in for if I did.”

Mr. Breese agreed with a light laugh. “I asked the question for good reason, for my niece is dear to me. I would not want her heart to become fixed upon a man who has an understanding elsewhere. You are returning home soon, and if there should be any feelings within her toward you, it would break her heart.”

Ethan could not help but press his brow in a worrisome way. “I would never do anything to hurt Darcy, sir. In the brief time I have known her, we have become friends.”

“Your father—what does he expect from you regarding a bride?”

“My father is deceased. It is Miss Roth’s father who pressed the issue. But I have not bent to his wishes.”

“I have no doubt in due time you shall if she has a handsome dowry. I ask you, do not give Darcy any room to love you, Mr. Brennan, if it is possible you and Miss Roth would eventually marry.”

“The chances of that are slim, sir.” Ethan held out his hand; and Mr. Breese, looking down at it, took it within his and bid him a good day.

On the floor above, Ethan heard the patter of feet crossing the floorboards. Before he turned out the front door, he looked back, seeing Mrs. Breese and her girls at the top of the staircase. In unison, they gave him a dip. He nodded and strode out. His horse sidestepped when he put his foot in the stirrup, and he soothed it with a calm word as he climbed into the saddle.

Heavy and dull beat his heart, as an old longing rose there, sharper now as he lifted his eyes to the window above and saw Darcy come to the sill and lean out on folded arms. Upon seeing him below, she gave him a gentle smile and lifted her hand. He took in the beauty of her face, the way her hair fell loose over her shoulders, the firelight from within the room catching each silken strand.

“You are leaving, Mr. Brennan?” A sound of hushed disappointment etched her voice.

“Indeed, for your aunt fears you are ill and I’ve stayed long enough.”

“If anything, I might inherit a slight cold, nothing more.”

“Should you be sitting at the window then?”

“Of course. I would sit here every day if I had the leisure.” She leaned a little lower. “I am a firm believer, sir, that fresh air and a beautiful view benefit the health.”

Ethan’s hands held the reins. “Beautiful—yes. And there are other things that do the same, that I had not known until recently.”

“What could they be?”

He hesitated, drew nearer, and kept his eyes on hers. “The warmth of your eyes and face for a start.”

She looked down at him stunned. “Your words should be saved for another, Mr. Brennan.”

Ethan steadied his restless horse. “You speak of Miss Roth. I have no more affection for her, or interest in wedding the lady, than a wolf has for a snare.”

Darcy lifted her head from her folded arms and looked down at him with her face flushed, her eyes looking into his. “I hope she is aware of your true feelings, for she seems very attached to you.” Then she reached for the latch. “The wind blows too cool for me now. I must go.”

Before he could say more, she closed the window and moved from it.

Ethan made for the road, down to the bridge that led across the river. He laid the reins hard against the horse and pushed it to a gallop. Mud splashed his boots. His mind raced, thinking over the incidents that had occurred, over his commission by another, and the secret he must guard. His pulse pounded in rhythm to the horse’s pace. Could it be possible to love Darcy so soon? He had journeyed thousands of miles across ocean and land to see her, and now his heart lay within her hands.

It was up to her whether she would treat it gently—or break it.