gaze that showed simmering admiration. He turned to Mrs. Breese. “Your husband has suffered a heart seizure, ma’am.”
With a cry, Mrs. Breese thrust her handkerchief against her mouth. Then she waved the handkerchief as if to chase the bad news away. “He is to die, I know it.”
“No, ma’am. He will not die. But he will need plenty of rest, strong broths, and fresh air. I’m afraid to say he will need to stop working for a time. Nothing strenuous. No exertion. He can no longer venture out alone.”
“But his livelihood is partly our bread and butter, sir. And he loves it so dearly.”
“I’m sorry. No exertion, ma’am.”
“Oh, surely, Doctor, a little water coloring in my portfolio is no harm to me,” Mr. Breese said.
“I want you to stay in bed a full week, sir. Then gradually you may do a little work, but again, nothing taxing.”
Mrs. Breese slapped her hands on her knees. “Oh, what shall become of us now? We have a small annuity from my father’s estate, but it is not enough to keep us all.”
“Aunt,” Darcy said. “You mustn’t think about that now. What is important is Uncle Will’s health.”
Her aunt shook her head. “It is of the utmost importance, indeed. But we shall have to eat fish from the river the rest of our lives. Washington College commissioned the work, Dr. Emerson, and will not accept an incomplete folio.”
Darcy knelt beside her. “We shall write to Dr. Ferguson at the college and inform him of Uncle Will’s condition.”
“Oh, no, Darcy. It’d be best to delay,” insisted her aunt.
“Well, a few weeks to recover will not set him back. He is nearly finished. Later, when he feels strong enough, he can complete it.” She looked over at Dr. Emerson for confirmation. “Uncle Will has been collecting flora along the river, sir. He is cataloging them, you see. The work is not difficult.”
“In time he can resume his work, as I said. As far as hiking the countryside in search of specimens, he cannot for some time,” said Emerson. “No lifting or laboring in the garden.”
“We can do any chore Papa needs us to,” Rachel said. “That way he will recover quickly. I’m right, aren’t I?” A broad smile broke across her face, and she looked over to Darcy. It seemed all the girls depended on Darcy to affirm their hopes.
“I believe you are, Rachel,” she replied.
Mrs. Breese huffed. “You are too optimistic, the pair of you. I’ve seen this kind of thing happen before. My father had a stroke, and we suffered for it. How shall I feed all these mouths now?”
“I assure you all, I will.” Mr. Breese smiled and then shut his eyes. “I have enjoyed the quiet, I must say.”
Her aunt arched her brows. “Darcy will need to go to England for certain now. Perhaps your dear grandmamma will help us, Darcy, for I have no doubt she is well off. Your uncle is her son after all.”
“Mari, I insist you stop fretting at once.” Mr. Breese’s tone arrested everyone in the room, including Darcy. She had never before heard him speak to her aunt with such firmness. She looked over at her with concern, for she had all of a sudden gone silent and still, and her face was awash with color.
“I have enough money for you and the girls to continue as things were. You are not to even suggest that Darcy ask my mother for money. And I am not going to die—at least not anytime soon. And when I do, I will thank the Lord for the peace and quiet.”
Tears moistened Mrs. Breese’s eyes and she set her mouth firm. “All right, my dear. As you say.”
With her husband in need of peace and quiet, as well as sleep, Mrs. Breese ushered her daughters and Darcy out of the room. After a brief word with his patient, Dr. Emerson stepped out, closed the door, and met Darcy and Martha in the sitting room. Darcy did not say she was worried over her uncle’s situation, but as she tidied up the room, she paused to see that eyes were upon her. Martha stood beside Dr. Emerson, and Darcy wished she could say out loud how fine they looked together.
“It would not be wise to travel alone, Miss Darcy, if that is indeed your course,” Dr. Emerson said.