Heart Appearances (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 560) (6 page)

Darcy’s expression sobered. “There was another. Roger had a crippled leg after falling off a wall. Sometimes Crackers and Hunstable took turns carrying him on their backs when Roger got tired of walkin’ with his stick. Roger couldn’t steal nothin’ for the gang, bein’ a cripple like he was, but we took care of him. He was four years younger than me, like me own little brother.”

“And where is he now? Still in London, I presume?”

She stared into the fire. “Roger weren’t strong. One hard winter, he died.”

Brent flinched. Her soft, short sentences revealed more than she was aware. He had no experience when it came to offering sympathy—especially to young women—and felt completely out of his element.

“I see. Well, at least you seem to have a few good memories,” he said lamely.

A smile lit her face again. “I do at that. So tell me, Guv’ner, have you any brothers or sisters?”

The question hit Brent like a slap in the face. He’d never talked to anyone about Bill, though Stewart, of course, knew the basic facts. Yet something had happened between him and Darcy in these last few minutes, something that had strangely and irrevocably drawn them closer together. She had shared a painful portion of her life, and Brent felt he should reciprocate.

Before he could question his rash decision, he spoke. “I have one brother. Bill left home when he was fifteen and later joined up with a felon who ran a numbers racket. I talked to Bill once, almost a year ago. He sent me a letter and asked me to meet him in Manhattan.”

Brent sighed, took off his spectacles, and wiped them with a handkerchief. “I tried to talk to him, to persuade him to listen to reason, but he would have none of it.”

❧

Darcy had no idea what a numbers racket was, but it must be awful from the look on Brent’s face. “I’m sorry, Guv’ner. I’ll ask the good Lord to keep a watch on ’im.”

He lifted his startled gaze. “Thank you, Miss Evans. I would appreciate your intercession.”

Her tentative grin evolved into a full-blown smile. “Well, not sure I know what that fancy word means—my, but you know a lot of ’em! But if it means prayin’, then you can count on me for that, Guv’ner.”

He continued to look at her, his eyes almost tender. “Yes, I believe I can. From what I’ve seen, you are a most dependable young woman.” He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed, and stood. “I should return to my quarters. A blessed Christmas to you, Miss Evans. Incidentally, your reading is much improved.” He moved hurriedly to the foyer, grabbed his hat and coat, and walked out into the swirling bits of light snow.

“And a blessed Christmas to you, Guv’ner,” Darcy murmured, feeling as if she’d just received an unexpected gift. She stared at the closed door, took the last bite of her apple, then headed to the kitchen to help Irma with the dishes—and maybe sneak another slice of that fruitcake Irma had made.

❧

January and February brought more snow. The old potbellied stove that warmed the schoolhouse malfunctioned, spewing out gray smoke and sending everyone outside into the frigid air, coughing and hacking.

To the best of Brent’s analysis, something had gotten clogged high in the stovepipe—too high to remove. Since none of the men were adept at fixing things, they decided to wait until spring to either have the fifty-year-old stove repaired or buy a new one. In the meantime, Brent relocated to an empty room in the boys’ wing of the main house. To have him so near day in and day out flustered Darcy, and she often found herself dropping things or saying things she shouldn’t.

Lessons continued, though not with the previous schoolroom order, since teaching was administered in the parlor. The boys sat on the sofa, chairs, carpeting—wherever they could find a spot—and took their lessons from Brent. Reading and reciting filled long hours. When they weren’t studying, they did their chores. Yet with nine boys and five adults sharing a minimal amount of space for weeks on end, petty fights soon erupted. Tonight, Darcy happened to be the only adult in the room.

She wrapped her short arms around Joel’s slim waist and, with as much brute strength as she could muster, pulled the wiry lad off Herbert while the two other boys in the room stood and watched. The redhead had a black eye. Once Darcy released Joel, Herbert flew at the blond scamp.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Darcy clutched a handful of the boy’s collar at the back. He fought to break loose, hurling malicious threats and trying to lash out at Joel, whose face bore nary a scratch.

“What’s going on here? I heard the ruckus from all the way upstairs.” Charleigh hurried into the room, her skirts clutched in both hands. Seeing the troublemakers, her mouth thinned. “Joel, you may march yourself into Mr. Lyons’s office this minute. Herbert, tell Irma to fetch you a steak for that eye; then you may join Joel.”

“He started it,” Herbert whined.

“Hardly,” Joel shot back.

“I don’t care who started it! Do you hear?
I don’t care
.” Charleigh’s eyes shot sparks and her breathing was labored. “Furthermore, I don’t wish to hear another word out of either of you or you’ll get extra job duties for a month. Now, go.”

Flabbergasted, Darcy stared at her friend. Charleigh was usually so calm when dealing with the boys. Yet tonight she looked as if she were ready to rake the whole lot of them over flaming coals.

Samuel, the young man who’d come to the Refuge after the war, hurried into the room, followed by three of the boys. Upon seeing the situation, he herded the children out, also putting a firm hand to both Joel’s and Herbert’s shoulders to prevent further fighting.

Darcy moved to stand in front of her friend. “Charleigh,” she said, her voice low, “what’s ailin’ you?”

“How did you—I mean, why should you think something’s ailing me?” Charleigh averted her gaze to the fireplace.

“I’ve known you too long, Luv. Now, let’s go make us a nice cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it.” Putting an arm around her friend’s shoulders, Darcy steered Charleigh toward the kitchen. “I made some lovely apple cinnamon muffins this morning too.”

They found the room unoccupied; and Darcy set about fixing the promised tea, though she noticed a coffeepot warming on the stove, probably left there by Irma. Darcy wrinkled her nose. She preferred tea with plenty of lemon.

Once the beverage was made, Darcy set a muffin in front of her friend, grabbed an orange from the bowl, and took a seat across from Charleigh. “Now, tell me what has you flutterin’ about like a mad, wet hen.” The allusion didn’t bring the desired smile Darcy hoped for.

With jerky movements, Charleigh plucked up her spoon, stirred, then set it back down on the saucer. Her eyes were full of pain when she looked up. “I think Stewart’s leaving me.”

“Leaving you?” Darcy repeated in disbelief.

She nodded. “The letter from his family was the excuse he needed. Oh, I don’t mean to sound heartless—I do care about his father’s health, and I know he needs to go to them. But, Darcy, I don’t think he’s coming back. I failed him, you see, and now he wants out.”

“Failed him?” Darcy repeated, feeling like an echo.

Charleigh looked down. “I can’t give him children. We’ve been married four years, and in that time I’ve lost five babies. I–I never talked about my past when we were together at Turreney Farm, I know.”

Darcy waited, expectant. Charleigh had been close mouthed about her private life and why she’d been sentenced. Darcy never asked, since it had been an unspoken code among the convicts to mind one’s own affairs. But she’d always wondered.

Charleigh released her breath in a heavy sigh. “In a nutshell, I lived with a man—a criminal—for three years. I thought we were married but came to find out the ceremony was a sham.” She paused, obviously finding it difficult to say the rest. “The night the
Titanic
sank, he beat me; and the next morning, on the
Carpathia,
I miscarried our child.”

Darcy listened, stunned.

Tear-filled eyes looked into her own. “Eric ruined me, Darcy. I’ve known it for some time. It’s because of him and his abuse that I can’t have children. And Stewart wants a son and daughter so badly. What am I to do? I’m losing my husband, and I’m helpless to do anything about it.” She buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly.

Darcy vacated her chair and knelt beside her friend, putting her arm around Charleigh’s shoulders. “You’re wrong, Luv. Stewart adores you. Why, just to look in the man’s eyes I can see as plain as the nose on me face that he’s smitten with you.”

Charleigh didn’t answer.

“He feels duty-bound to help his family but is obviously torn on the proper thing to do. Go to them or stay home with you, his wife.”

“I suppose. But, Darcy, what if he decides to go and doesn’t come back? We’ve. . .” She looked down at her lap. “We’ve quarreled lately. Since he came home from the war, he doesn’t act the same. He rarely talks to me anymore, and I feel it’s because he wishes he’d never married me.”

“I disagree.” Darcy laid her other hand over her friend’s cold one. “War changes people, Luv. There’s no tellin’ what Stewart saw in France. Give it time. And, Charleigh, you need to seek the faith that ye somehow lost and start believin’ God to work things out. I’m not too smart yet on how one’s supposed to act as a Christian, but I do pray for everyone in this house each and every night.”

A wisp of a smile tugged at Charleigh’s lips. “Oh, Darcy, you’re such a dear friend.” Her eyelashes flitted down, then up, her expression guilty. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about me. I was overbearing when you first came. I’m afraid I’ve grown accustomed to supervising nine boys with criminal records and have become domineering in my attitude. Forgive me for not asking if you wanted to change rather than practically ordering you to do so.”

“Oh, but I’m not angered, Charleigh,” Darcy was quick to assure. “Not one bit. So don’t you worry none. Actually, I’m glad you forced me hand. I never would’ve had the courage to ask the favor for meself—since I felt beholden to you for bringin’ me here all the way from London. And you were right; it never hurts to gain head knowledge.”

Charleigh smiled. “For being four years younger than I, you’re so much wiser, Darcy.”

“Maybe in some things but not in others. Even with the trainin’ you’ve given me, I still have problems with the way I talk; and I often find meself sayin’ things that make Mr. Thomas’s hair about turn white, judgin’ from the shock that suddenly sweeps ’cross his face. Have you ever seen his mouth drop open? Sure is a sight for such a dignified gent!”

Charleigh giggled, the sound cheering Darcy. Her friend would be all right. She was a survivor, as was Darcy.

“I’ll admit, and please don’t take this wrong, but seeing the two of you together is—how do I put this? Amusing at times.” Charleigh’s eyes sparkled with more than tears. “Frankly, I’m amazed at how well you’ve both gotten along lately—for being such total opposites, I mean.”

Darcy returned to her seat. She stirred the cooling liquid, wishing the sudden fire in her cheeks would cool as well. “He’s a fine sort of fellow.” She took a sip from her cup and began to peel her orange. “A good teacher.”

“Yes, he is that,” Charleigh agreed, her expression softly probing, as though she could sense more than Darcy was willing to reveal.

Darcy took her full cup to the basin. “Well, I’m a mite tired, and I have lessons to complete besides. You’d think Brent would ease up, what with the cabin fever everyone’s had lately. . . .” Her words trailed off when she realized her slip. She’d never before used his Christian name in conversation. She only hoped Charleigh hadn’t noticed. Hesitant, she turned.

Charleigh’s smile was wide. “Yes, Brent can be rather dogmatic when it comes to schooling. He’s just what those boys need. And what you need.”

Darcy’s ears grew hot. “He’s helped quite a bit in teaching me to read and write; that’s a fact.”

Charleigh rose and looped an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “I know you like him, Darcy, and I think that’s ‘nifty,’ as Tommy would say. So do stop trying to cover up. I’m one hundred percent in favor of you and Brent forming a more serious relationship, if that’s what has you so flustered.”

As she finished her last sentence, Brent strode into the kitchen. Darcy almost died from humiliation when she realized from the startled expression on his reddening face that he’d heard every word.

Five

Brent stopped, stared, and wondered what to do. Despite the chill in the house, his neck and face burned. He deliberated on the most appropriate way to extricate himself from this latest embarrassing predicament. That they knew he’d overheard Charleigh’s shocking statement was obvious, judging from the way Darcy’s face flamed poppy red.

“Excuse me,” Darcy mumbled, hurrying past Brent. “I need to be about me business.”

Relief mingled with an underlying sense of empathy. After all, the shocking words hadn’t been Darcy’s. He imagined she was as unnerved by them as he. Why Charleigh had even said such a thing was beyond Brent’s reasoning. He swiveled to look at her.

Charleigh’s gaze turned from the spot where Darcy had exited and met his own. She seemed ill at ease, repentant. “I should check on the boys.” Before she moved through the doorway, she offered Brent an uncertain smile. “Good night.”