Dara took a sip of the sherry. She wasn’t fond of it, or any spirits for that matter. She never overindulged because she disliked not feeling as if she was in control of herself. Unfortunately, she hated the hazy way she felt right now.
But the sherry did help. She took another sip. Her sense of detachment started to ebb.
She dearly wished to lie down. She gave the half-empty glass to Gwendolyn and started for the steps before remembering herself. She turned back to Mr. Brogan, whose expression of what could only be genuine concern was disconcerting. “Thank you for your help.” She didn’t wish to be beholden to anyone, but she especially didn’t trust being beholden to him. Dara prided herself on being strong and brave... but the face of that poor child. The blue, blue lips—
Don’t think about it, she warned herself.
Mr. Brogan answered her with the right things. That it was his honor to be of service and so on and so forth, but Dara didn’t linger. A roaring had started in her ears. She couldn’t faint. Her pride wouldn’t let her. She managed to make it up the steps. She turned the corner, out of sight of those in the foyer, and there, she leaned against the wall. She had only a few more steps to take to reach her bedroom. She’d make them, but she needed to rest and to think of something else besides how close the boy had come to death.
Downstairs, she heard Gwendolyn thanking Mr. Brogan for his timely help. Sound carried very well up the wood staircase.
“I’m very concerned for her,” he said. “She was brilliant. I heard the mother’s screams, and thenMiss Dara jumped in the lake to save that child herself. The boatmen would not have arrived in time. Even though I was on horseback, I might not have arrived in time.”
“Dara is very brave,” Gwendolyn agreed. There was pride in her voice. “But this is hard on her. She likes being in the background.”
“If she had stayed in the background, that boy wouldn’t have survived. She hasnothingto be ashamed of.”
And then Dara listened as Gwendolyn said, “It is more than that. This isn’t Dara’s first drowning. There was another when she was younger, say twelve. A village girl whom we all knew well drowned in the local pond. She and Dara had been playing when the girl went after a ball that had gone into the water. Dara ran for help, but of course it was too late. She was—” Gwendolyn paused as if caught in emotion, then continued, “Inconsolable.” There was a sigh as if Gwendolyn felt Dara’s shame over letting her friend die.
Dara leaned her head against the wall. Tears welled in her eyes, then ran down her cheeks. She never thought of Moira anymore. Life had gone on, as it did. Gone on without Gram. Gone on without their father.
But overhearing Gwendolyn, she understood why she had been so desperate to help. Even why, when she had seen the article about the Humane Society, she had realized its significance.
“Father came home shortly after the incident,” Gwendolyn said briskly, “and decided the best way to cure Dara of her grief was to teach all of us to swim. He’d spent a number of the years in the Indies. He’d met my mother there. It took some time to coax Dara into the water. She is still not fond of it, not like Elise or me.”
“Then what she did today was an uncommon act of courage,” Mr. Brogan said. “Please give her my regards and let her know I am honored to have been of some small service.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brogan. We appreciate you seeing her home,” Gwendolyn said. There followed the sound of the door opening and closing. He was gone.
Dara heard Gwendolyn start up the stairs. She pushed away from the wall and stumbled to her room. She had just managed to cross the threshold of the bedroom she shared with Elise when she stopped, exhausted. Gwendolyn gently guided her forward and helped her to undress.
“This dress is ruined,” Dara said.
“Not necessarily,” her sister answered. “We shall see what we can do.”
“I wish you hadn’t told him about Moira.”
Gwendolyn didn’t respond. Instead, she reached down to undo Dara’s wet shoelaces. Dara waved her away. “I can take off my own shoes.”
Her sister sat back. “I told him what I thought he needed to know. He was very concerned foryou. We all are. And everyone is in awe of what you did, Dara.” There was a beat of silence. Then she said, “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
“I’m not trying to be.” Dara didn’t meet her eyes. She tugged hard on the knot, making the wet lace all the more difficult to undo, and then threw her hands in the air in exasperation.
Gwendolyn swiftly untied the knot before reaching for the next one.
It was on the tip of Dara’s tongue to confess about the kiss. She didn’t know why. Guilt, probably. Or perhaps something else, something she didn’t wish to consider. Instead, she murmured, “I’ve been rude to him.”
“You have been protective of Elise—who is admittedly headstrong and needs some watching. She likes him very much.”
“She can do better. She can have the best England has to offer.”
“Perhaps that is not what she wants. I like him.”
Would Gwendolyn like him if she knew about the kiss?Dara combed her fingers through her wet hair and then started to remove what pins were left. “A crowd gathered. They all stared at me as if I was an offering at an emporium.”
Gwendolyn stood and fetched Dara’s dressing robe. “Come downstairs and bathe. You will feel better.”
“We must attend Lord Freeman’s this evening.”
