shoulders back, head high, eyes that spoke of highborn blood. Then again, she could be wrinkled and bent with age, one who regretted the fading bloom of youth.
Tucking her arms beneath her head on the pillow, she watched the shadows cross the ceiling in time with the even rhythm of her breathing. She closed her eyes and thought of Ethan. England—he’d be there. Ah, but would she want to meet him again, endure seeing him with a new wife, one who would flaunt her new name in her face?
She drew the pillow against her and wondered if he had decided not to marry Miss Roth. Did he not say he had no real affection for her? If they were to meet again, how would he react? Would he repent for leaving her high and dry?
In the morning, she went downstairs for breakfast. Fortunately, her aunt was reserved on the subject of her leaving, yet dropped hints as to how fine the riverside was, how lovely the Maryland countryside would be in autumn, how blessed they all were to live in a land of liberty without the burden of monarchy.
“If you choose to leave us, I would be pleased if you would send your uncle a sample of heather pressed in rice paper inside a book of your choosing, Darcy,” her aunt said.
Darcy could not bring herself to smile. “I will be happy to, if I can find any. I will see if Uncle Will has a picture of it, to make it easy for me.”
She went to his study and found him working. “Aunt Mari wishes for me to send home a sample of heather. Do you have a drawing I may see?”
“No, but I can make one.”
“That would be splendid.”
He drew out paper and began the sketch. “It is a shrub-like plant, you see.” Darcy leaned in. “It blooms bell-shaped purple flowers in summer. By the time you reach England, you will have missed them in all their glory.”
“But the leaves are lovely, and perhaps I will find some dried blooms.”
“Yes, perhaps.” He handed her the sketch and she thanked him. It worried her how weary he seemed.
“What is the matter? I have noticed you seem tired lately.”
“Yes, I am more tired than usual, and I have a shortness of breath at times. I suppose it is old age creeping up on me.” He placed his hand on her cheek. “Say nothing of this to your aunt. You know how she worries.”
She agreed to be quiet, but she wondered if it were the right thing to do. “You must see a doctor, Uncle Will. Promise me.”
“I have met with him already. I am to drink plenty of barley water, eat my food warm, and stay out of drafts.”
She put her arms around him. “I should not leave, not when you are ill.”
“You fear too much for me, Darcy. I am otherwise in good health. I want my heather, and the way I am to have it is if you get it for me.”
Stepping outside his study, Will Breese put on his hat. “Wild blackberry leaves are turning and I need samples.”
“Would you like me to come along?”
“I would like to have time alone to pray, Darcy. You know how precious quiet is to me, and that it is hard to pray when there is so much activity inside the house. I’ll take my dog with me and return for dinner at noon.”
By one o’clock he had not returned, and so Darcy and Martha were sent to find him. They walked past the front garden to the road together, to a field opposite the house, lush with knee-high grass that waved in the breeze.
Martha looped her arm through Darcy’s. “I think we shall have a gray winter this year, Darcy.”
Darcy smiled and lifted her face to feel the sun. “I like winter as much as any season. But when it is cold and dreary, I remember that the wildflowers will return as they always do.”
Martha paused and shook out the dust that had gathered on her hem from the road. “I wonder if you shall be here to see them. Your grandmother’s invitation to visit her …”
“Do not look so sad, Martha. This is my home and I will come back.”
With a firm hand, Martha yanked at a head of a clover. “Hmm. You are like the wildflowers, cousin.
Tucking her arms beneath her head on the pillow, she watched the shadows cross the ceiling in time with the even rhythm of her breathing. She closed her eyes and thought of Ethan. England—he’d be there. Ah, but would she want to meet him again, endure seeing him with a new wife, one who would flaunt her new name in her face?
She drew the pillow against her and wondered if he had decided not to marry Miss Roth. Did he not say he had no real affection for her? If they were to meet again, how would he react? Would he repent for leaving her high and dry?
In the morning, she went downstairs for breakfast. Fortunately, her aunt was reserved on the subject of her leaving, yet dropped hints as to how fine the riverside was, how lovely the Maryland countryside would be in autumn, how blessed they all were to live in a land of liberty without the burden of monarchy.
“If you choose to leave us, I would be pleased if you would send your uncle a sample of heather pressed in rice paper inside a book of your choosing, Darcy,” her aunt said.
Darcy could not bring herself to smile. “I will be happy to, if I can find any. I will see if Uncle Will has a picture of it, to make it easy for me.”
She went to his study and found him working. “Aunt Mari wishes for me to send home a sample of heather. Do you have a drawing I may see?”
“No, but I can make one.”
“That would be splendid.”
He drew out paper and began the sketch. “It is a shrub-like plant, you see.” Darcy leaned in. “It blooms bell-shaped purple flowers in summer. By the time you reach England, you will have missed them in all their glory.”
“But the leaves are lovely, and perhaps I will find some dried blooms.”
“Yes, perhaps.” He handed her the sketch and she thanked him. It worried her how weary he seemed.
“What is the matter? I have noticed you seem tired lately.”
“Yes, I am more tired than usual, and I have a shortness of breath at times. I suppose it is old age creeping up on me.” He placed his hand on her cheek. “Say nothing of this to your aunt. You know how she worries.”
She agreed to be quiet, but she wondered if it were the right thing to do. “You must see a doctor, Uncle Will. Promise me.”
“I have met with him already. I am to drink plenty of barley water, eat my food warm, and stay out of drafts.”
She put her arms around him. “I should not leave, not when you are ill.”
“You fear too much for me, Darcy. I am otherwise in good health. I want my heather, and the way I am to have it is if you get it for me.”
Stepping outside his study, Will Breese put on his hat. “Wild blackberry leaves are turning and I need samples.”
“Would you like me to come along?”
“I would like to have time alone to pray, Darcy. You know how precious quiet is to me, and that it is hard to pray when there is so much activity inside the house. I’ll take my dog with me and return for dinner at noon.”
By one o’clock he had not returned, and so Darcy and Martha were sent to find him. They walked past the front garden to the road together, to a field opposite the house, lush with knee-high grass that waved in the breeze.
Martha looped her arm through Darcy’s. “I think we shall have a gray winter this year, Darcy.”
Darcy smiled and lifted her face to feel the sun. “I like winter as much as any season. But when it is cold and dreary, I remember that the wildflowers will return as they always do.”
Martha paused and shook out the dust that had gathered on her hem from the road. “I wonder if you shall be here to see them. Your grandmother’s invitation to visit her …”
“Do not look so sad, Martha. This is my home and I will come back.”
With a firm hand, Martha yanked at a head of a clover. “Hmm. You are like the wildflowers, cousin.
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