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.