Beside Two Rivers (23 page)

Sanchet nickered. Darcy patted his neck. “I am not afraid of you. Why, you are gentle as a lamb. What a brave fellow you are to have borne the voyage across the sea.”

She turned to look at Ethan. His hair brushed along his coat collar and lifted in the breeze. Beneath the cloudy sky, standing upon the damp grass, he looked more handsome than she ever recalled. He had a careworn look, a windswept expression, and a sorrow that lingered in his stare.

“I saw you as I came up the road. It is a chilly day to be out.” His eyes never left her face.

“You’re right. I should be heading back.” She gathered her hem just above her heels and proceeded toward a break in the wall. The mare stood a ways off munching the grass. Ethan stepped alongside Darcy, on the opposite side of the wall.

“Allow me to escort you back.”

“There is no reason to inconvenience yourself.”

“It is no inconvenience at all. I was on my way to Havendale to see you anyway.”

A weed grew from a crack in the wall and she plucked it out and looked at it. Then she glanced over at him. “Were you?”

He stopped walking and she heard a sigh pass between his lips. “I did not like the way we left things.”

Nor had she. Perhaps being cordial would help, and so Darcy decided then and there she must be civil and forgive Ethan. What was done was done. At least they could be friends.
But he had said he wished to be more than that, and I feel the same. Would it be too bold to tell him I love him, Lord?

She raised her hand, moved her hair back from her face, and fastened her eyes upon the ruins. “Do you know this place?”

“Yes. My father was a minister and we lived here for a short time. I was young and do not remember much. This was also your grandfather’s and mother’s home. The house was actually a part of the Havendale estate.”

Darcy stared at the pile of rubble. “This was the vicarage where she grew up?”

“I am surprised no one told you.”

“My Uncle Will said my grandfather preached near Havendale. I saw the church and wondered if this could have been the place. I had no idea this had once been their home— and yours as well.”

“Yes,” Ethan said. “We have a connection here, do we not?”

Darcy nodded. Pained to look upon the blackened remains, she imagined her mother standing out on the grass, her dark hair blown back by the wind, her young face tilted toward the sun. Had her father ridden up on a blustery day just as Ethan had with her? Did he propose to her by the door, or here by the wall, and had he carried her far away on horseback or in a carriage? Darcy knew she’d never know, but to think they had stood here long ago caused her emotions to rise and fall like the gusts of wind that swept over the land.

She placed her hands atop the wall that separated her from the heaps of charred stone and ash, from the cold remains where there had once been windows and a door. Her mind drifted back to River Run and the empty, decaying house that stood there. Were these evidences of what lives her parents had lived?

“What happened here?” she asked in a grave tone, her brows pinched.

Setting his hat back on his head, Ethan leaned against the wall. “When your grandfather died, your mother was to vacate the house to make room for our family. That is when she left with Hayward Morgan. Shortly after our arrival, a fire destroyed the house, killing both my mother and baby sister.”

Troubled, Darcy turned to him. “I am sorry.” And truly she was. How could anyone survive such loss, go through life with a tragedy of this kind bound to them? Only God could strengthen such a soul. She realized how strong a man Ethan must really be.

He hung his head. “It was long ago.”

“I know how it feels to lose a mother.”

“We’ve lost loved ones in different ways, but it is still a grievous thing, whether they have gone away from us, or passed into God’s heaven.”

“Yet, God has a way of sending us aid in our time of need.”

“His aid came in the form of an inheritance for my father. We had a home to live in. Yet he never preached again from the pulpit, but learned to serve God in other ways. He was kind to the poor and needy. This was his saving grace.”

Darcy noticed sorrow flicker in his eyes, along with a light that said secrets were also locked away at Fairview. Neither spoke for a long, tense moment. Presently, with her head low, she laid both her hands over his, and he looked into her eyes.

“I am grieved for you, Ethan.” When he did not answer, she drew her hands away and walked on. “Count it a blessing, sir, that you know about your family. I have so little knowledge of my parents.”

“Surely you have learned more about your father while staying at Havendale,” Ethan offered.

“I am afraid Havendale keeps its secrets under lock and key,” Darcy answered.

Ethan answered with a solemn nod. “Some things should be kept hidden and forgotten. But then there are other things that should come to light, if they help in some way.”

She turned her head to look at him as she drew through the break in the wall. “You believe that?”

“I do.” He took a step closer. “I cannot forget you, Darcy. Can you forgive me? Hurting you was the last thing I would ever do.”

“In your letter, you said you never meant for me to think you loved me, that your heart belonged to Miss Roth. I wish you had made that clear in the beginning.”

His eyes widened. “I never sent you a letter.”

“It was penned in a masculine hand and signed by you.”

“No. I never sent it. How did you come by this letter?”

“Miss Roth gave it to me.”

He shook his head. “I see. And how did this come about?”

“She came to the house. My family had gone into the village, and I was alone.”

“What did Miss Roth tell you?”

“That you and she were to be married upon your return to England.”

Ethan huffed and shifted on his feet. “I made no such promise.”

“She was emphatic.”

“A wicked lie, Darcy. All of it.”

“You can see why I believed her. I had no reason not to. I could not stand in the way.”

“Miss Roth. She did this. She wrote that letter herself and devised this whole plan to separate us.”

“Why would she go to such extremes?”

“Jealousy. Fear. Revenge even.”

“But she risked the chance of being found out.”

“Indeed. I also was given a letter that said you no longer wanted to see me.”

A breath escaped Darcy’s mouth. “How cruel of her. Believe me when I say I did not write it.”

“How stupid could I have been to believe you had? Forgive me?”

Darcy replied with a look, with a tender glance of her eyes. Ethan faced the ruins. Suddenly he burst forth with passion. “I should have been more of a man. I should have come to you the moment I read that letter.”

“Then … you were not attached to Miss Roth in any way?”

“Thank God, I was not, nor am I now.”

The wind blew keen, and Darcy hugged her arms. Ethan stepped closer, looking concerned. “You are cold. Come, I’ll take you back, if you do not mind that we ride together.”

She moved on, and reaching the mare, she picked up the reins and turned back to him. He rushed to her, drew her close. “I love you, Darcy. I would live and die for you. Do you believe me?”

She gazed up at him. “I can say—I do.”

She hid her head against his breast and held on to the lapels of his coat. He raised her face, and to her lips his melted. He had kissed her once before, but this time it spoke of desperate love, as if the air he breathed depended on her. Tremulous with tears, Darcy put her arms around Ethan and he held her close.

After a moment, he set her back, at arm’s length. “There are things I must tell you. I was sworn to secrecy about events that have … What I mean to say is, when the opportunity to visit Mr. Rhendon’s home in Virginia presented itself, I was urged to accept his invitation with the goal in mind of finding you—to see if you were well cared for and happy.”

“My grandmother did this?”

“Madeline knows nothing, asks nothing.”

“I should be angry with you, Ethan. But I can tell whatever caused you to swear an oath to be silent, you must have done it out of good intentions.”

“With all my heart, Darcy, my intentions were and always will be honorable. Try to understand what I’m about to tell you.”

A horse suddenly raced across the fields at breakneck speed toward them, and when its rider crested the slope before them, he drew hard on the reins. The horse reared up and whinnied, then stomped its hooves into the mossy earth.

“Mr. Raverty?” Ethan look surprised. “What brings you out here, sir?”

“I’ve been sent from Fairview, Mr. Brennan,” the breathless rider said. He glanced at Darcy and then gave Ethan a knowing look. “It’s urgent you return home without delay. I do not know the reasons, sir.”

With haste, Ethan read the note and then shoved it into his pocket. His expression grave, he turned to Darcy. “I must go at once.”

“What could be wrong?” Worry swam in the eyes she met.

“I cannot say, but I must hurry.” He sprinted to his horse and leaped into the saddle. Then with a swift kick of his heels, he raced off on Sanchet.

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
.