“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. Gone for a while, but promised to return.”
Darcy laughed and shook back her hair.
“Are you worried you might see Mr. Brennan there?”
“Indeed not. I doubt I shall ever see Mr. Brennan again. And even if I do, it shall not be of any consequence to me.”
“And if he is wed to that prissy girl, tell him I think him well-deserving of such a thorn in his flesh.”
“It is because of me that you would say such a thing, Martha.”
“You are right. I would say it of any man who treated my dearest cousin and friend ill.”
They walked on, closer to the line of trees that shaded the field.
“You never did say all that was in the letter, Darcy. Were there other reasons for Grandmother asking you to come, other than wishing to see you?”
“That is the sum of it. She said that for many years she has grieved and explained it no further. I imagine not seeing our fathers for all these years caused her much pain, and to know we exist and to never to meet us has been difficult. I do not understand why she only asked for me, and not you or your sisters.”
“Perhaps she plans to send for us one at a time, and I shall be next on the list. But I do not ever want to go. I am afraid of strangers and strange places.”
“I have thought perhaps there are things I should know, and people I should meet,” said Darcy. “I am not afraid.”
Martha nodded. “You never are. I admire that about you.”
The breeze whispered through the weeping willow they walked under. Darcy drew in the air. “We are young, Martha. Neither of us should spend our days sitting at home. I must find answers, and you must find a husband.”
Her cousin laughed. “Have you no such hope in finding a good man, Darcy?”
“I shall desire marriage, if it is for love. If I never find it, than I shall remain as I am.”
“I have received two letters from Dr. Emerson,” Martha said. “I believe he is sincerely fond of me.”