in a deep breath and released it. He reached for his Bible and opened to the Song of Solomon, where the letter, delivered to him by Miss Roth after her visit with Darcy, marked his place.
I cannot accept you, Ethan. [Her words were seared into his mind.] We are too different, and I would not marry an Englishman for anything in the world, even if you meant to stay. And by no means would I leave my family and home and follow you to England. I will forever be grateful you pulled me from the river, but I do not love you.
He went to the chair before the fire and sank into it. He prayed that God would remove the love he felt for Darcy if having her was a forlorn hope. Breathing out a final amen, he ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the letter in his hand.
Even if Darcy were to accept him, what would he have to offer her except an old manor with floors that creaked and windows that rattled, on a patch of land just large enough to sustain a garden and a horse?
The idea pained him like a twisting blade. He went down to what was now his study, where the remainder of his father’s books stood in neat rows on the bookshelves. As he had studied the accounts and realized the cost of maintaining the old place, he had had to sell some of the old first editions that had been in the family for years. As he remembered them, he grew more convinced that God had set in his heart the desire to start a new life in America—hopefully with Darcy.
“She’ll be going back to her home by the river. If I sell Fairview, I’ll have enough to settle there and take Eliza and Fiona with me. God will turn Darcy’s heart, I know it.”
He stood and rubbed his eyes. Then he went upstairs and stood in the doorway to Eliza’s room. She sat on a lounge, propped up against a snowy heap of pillows. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, fell in a single braid across her shoulder. A candle illuminated the room, and her face appeared flushed in the quivering light.
He drew up beside her. “Fiona says you are tired tonight. Can I get you anything? Would you like me to read to you?”
“Stay a little while.” She touched his hand with hers. “Where did you go today?”
“Havendale.”
She drew away from the pillow. “Why would you go there, Ethan?”
“Mr. Brighton asked me to accompany him. As you can imagine, my curiosity was piqued and I had to go. I was hesitant at first, but I felt drawn.”
“Did you meet Madeline? I imagine she has grown very old and is not apt to entertain guests anymore.”
“She was nowhere to be seen. But I saw Langbourne. Brighton had assured me he was at Meadlow and rarely visits Havendale. He was wrong.”
“Did he inquire after me? Did he treat you unkindly?”
“We did not speak.”
“I have no doubt his grudge against me and Hayward is as strong as it ever was. I shall not be free of him until I die.”
“Do not speak of it,” Ethan said. “I must tell you, there is someone else you know visiting Havendale.”
“I cannot think who.” Eliza settled back and smiled. Her violet eyes were as vivid in color as the first day Ethan met her as a boy. Yet lines had formed at the corners. “Please tell me; it shall make me happy for Madeline. Life can be very lonely for the old. It has been one regret of mine that I have never gone to see her. But I have my reasons for not doing so. Hayward no doubt painted a bleak picture of me in any correspondence he has had with her.”
“I am certain it will make you very happy,” Ethan said.
Upon his deathbed, Mr. Brennan asked for Ethan’s word that he would protect Eliza by honoring her wishes to remain as she was—secluded. He had pledged his word not to speak of her to Darcy in any way other than in the past tense. But now that Darcy was but a few miles from Fairview, he hoped Eliza’s mind might change and she would desire to see her daughter, even if by doing so, she risked rejection and having her heart broken all over again.
And so he paced, his hands clasped behind him, his heart heavy within. Finally he turned to