Beside Two Rivers - By Rita Gerlach Page 0,1

trees, aiding her uncle along, for he was not strong in the legs at his time of life. The windows glowed with evening sunlight. The front door sat open, allowing the breeze to flow free. A shaggy brown dog slumbered on the threshold with his head between muddy paws, and when he heard her whistle, he lifted his head and bounded up to her and her uncle.

When Darcy entered the cool narrow hallway of the house, she pulled off her broad-brimmed hat and shook back her hair. Even with a bright sun that day, she had not worn it on her head, but let it hang behind her shoulders. She set it on a hook beside the door and paused when she heard her aunt’s voice in the sitting room.

“Darcy,” Mari Breese called.

She stepped inside with a smile. “I am here, Aunt Mari.”

“Where on earth have you been? I have worried.” Mrs. Breese fanned her face with the letter, set it on her lap, and fell back against her chair. Accustomed to her aunt’s melodrama, Darcy dismissed her troubled tone of voice.

“I was out walking.” She kissed her aunt’s cheek.

“Walking, walking. What is so grand about walking? On my word, I do believe there are still Indians roaming about who would be pleased to snatch away a beauty like you. They might lust for that lovely hair of yours, I dread to think.”

Proud of her locks, Mari Breese tucked her mouse-brown hair, peppered with gray, further into her mobcap. Her eyes were dark blue, close to the shade of ink that stained the letter she held. The rose in her cheeks heightened, not from the heat in the room, but from the excitement. Darcy wished she could calm her. Everyone would be better off.

“Uncle Will said you have news, Aunt. May we hear it?” Darcy sat next to her cousins, who were seated with perfect posture in a row upon a faded settee.

“Yes, Mama. You said you would read it once everyone was here,” said Darcy’s cousin Martha.

Her eldest cousin possessed a flawless row of pearl-white teeth and eyes like her papa’s. She and Darcy were the same age, and their resemblance to each other caused people to think they were sisters. She wore her hair in a loose chignon today, silky and dark brown, accenting her fair skin. Darcy could not tolerate the style, and each time Martha urged her to try it she exclaimed it gave her a headache.

“We have been patient,” Martha reminded her mother. The other girls—Lizzy, Abigail, Rachel, and Dolley—chimed in.

“If your father would be so good as to sit down, I will begin. It involves all of us.”

Mr. Breese drew his pipe out from between his teeth. He sat in a chair beneath the window, picked up the newspaper, and proceeded to look it over.

“Will, your attention please.” Mrs. Breese slapped her hands together.

“Here’s an interesting article, girls,” he said. “In March, a gentleman by the name of Whitney invented a machine that removes the seeds from cotton. Calls it the cotton gin. Fancy that!”

“More than likely it will add to the South’s sinful institution of slavery,” Darcy said.

“I hope not, Darcy. But with an invention of this kind …”

Mrs. Breese stamped her foot. “Husband, do you wish to hear this or not?”

He set the paper down on his lap. “What is so important, my dear?”

“We’ve received an invitation. I must say, I have been anticipating this, and now we have something to break the boredom we endure in this wilderness.”

“Boredom, my dearest? With this lot, how can you be bored? And it’s hardly a wilderness anymore, not with towns and villages springing up everywhere. It is no different here than in New York.”

Mrs. Breese huffed. “New York indeed. New York is a city. This is the end of the earth as far as I am concerned.”

“No different from where you were raised, then.”

“Indeed that is true. This invitation reminds me of when I was young. You girls shall benefit from this.”

Darcy’s cousins pleaded for her aunt to reveal the facts. She sat quiet, her mind summing up all the things this invitation could be. A ball? A dinner party or picnic? She thought of the few neighbors they had, and not a one seemed given to hold such events. But on the other side of the river were large plantations, and the Virginians were noted for gatherings of all sorts. She’d never been to the other side of the Potomac, and the chance