“This is Edward, my second husband and your grandfather. I was a widow with a small boy, your uncle, and Edward took pity on me and brought me to Havendale. I had money, and that helped him decide to wed me. If I’d been penniless, there would have been no hope for my child and me. I hope William is well.”
Darcy hesitated to tell her grandmother the truth. “He sends you his well wishes. He would have come with me, but commitments prevented him. I’ve brought a letter. Should I go get it?”
“I shall read it later.” A sad gaze filled her grandmother’s eyes. “I do not wish to speak about him anymore today.”
“If I may ask, does my father resemble his father?”
“Yes, but he had my eyes. I hope someday they are enlightened to what he has done in hurting me. He left without so much as a goodbye, and the last letter I received from him was many years ago. Not a word since.”
“He left for the frontier, so Uncle Will told me. I hope someday he will return.”
Madeline paused to drink her broth. “Poor Charlotte. What on earth will she think of your high spirits and openmindedness, Darcy?”
It seemed as if her grandmother had not heard her remark about meeting her father again. Or had she wished to ignore it?
Maxwell jumped onto the bed and sat down with an anxious stare. Madeline handed him a nibble of cheese from the china plate sitting on the bed beside her. He took it between his teeth and swallowed it down.
“I must say, Darcy, I can see in you your father’s determination, and the passion of your mother. Hmm. Perhaps you will draw Charlotte out.”
“I shall attempt to engage her by being kind, Grandmother.”
“Kind? It may do no good if Langbourne hears your conversations. He keeps a firm hand on his wife’s shoulder.” Madeline sighed and lay her head back against the pillow propped up behind her.
Darcy paused to study the painting over the fireplace. It portrayed a pair of matched horses and the riders—a lady dressed in a blue velvet riding habit, whose youthful face was one of rich beauty, a gentleman, broad-shouldered and handsome.
“What kind of man is Langbourne?” she asked, the painting posing the question in her mind.
“He lacks all the best virtues one expects in a man—humility, kindness, and a sense of duty. Instead, he can be proud and demanding, and he drinks far too much. Likes rum, you see. Everyone must kowtow to his whims, and he to no one.”
“Perhaps disappointing circumstances in life have made him as you say.”
“Disappointments? Langbourne has had everything handed to him. You would think his wife would have soothed his overbearing ways, but I fear she has put more oil on the fire than water.”
Darcy’s interest was piqued. “May I ask how? Would it not be his responsibility and not hers?”
Her grandmother gathered her shawl closer. “Certainly, but a woman can bring out the best or the worst in a man. I imagine Hayward must not have been an easy man to live with.”
“I cannot say. But I’d like to think he was.”
“Your father had such a strong will. Nothing could change his mind on anything. He was determined to make a life in America, and Eliza chose him over his cousin.”
“You mean Mr. Langbourne, your nephew?”
This was something Darcy had never been told. She wondered if her parents’ romance had been a tumultuous one, with two men competing for her.
“Yes, that is exactly who I mean. I see a thousand questions are now swimming in your head,” Madeline said. “But I shall not answer them today. Too many answers to too many questions can lead a person to places they wish not to go.”
Darcy felt sorry for her grandmother. Memories were painful for her. But she wished the conversation could go further. Yet her grandmother would venture only so far on certain subjects, and that left Darcy frustrated with curiosity. So many secrets seemed to permeate Havendale. Too many answers to too many questions can lead a person to places they wish not to go. She wondered at the meaning behind those words, and prayed she would understand—if not now, later.
Madeline sighed. “I am weary, Darcy, and need to sleep.” Her eyes closed and she slipped off. Darcy stood, drew her grandmother’s bedcover up to her chin, blew out the candle, and tiptoed from the room.