“Tomorrow is too late. You know we ship the bandages out in the morning. Darcy Opal Shea, this wild behavior has to stop. You’re nearly twenty-four, too old to make a spectacle of yourself. Your hair. Your skirt. I was embarrassed. Dermott, did you know your daughter went running through Mr. Baker’s field?”
Papa looked up from the newspaper, clearly only having heard the part of Mum’s harangue that came after her utterance of his name. “Baker’s field? I hear a plane crash-landed there. Did you see it, Darcy? Dennis Allington said it was quite loud.”
“It didn’t crash,” Darcy said. “It had to land due to engine trouble.”
“Is that so?” Her father snapped the paper and folded it against the crease. “Perhaps I’ll go over there and have a look.”
Oh, no. She did not need Papa meddling. “It’ll probably be gone in the morning. I don’t know for certain, of course, but I could ask. Someone in town must know. Hendrick Simmons, for instance. If the plane needed fuel or had a problem, they’d have to go to the motor garage. I could ask him after supper.”
“But it will be dusk,” Mum pointed out.
“We’ll walk there together,” Papa suggested.
Worse and worse. “No reason to waste your time, when I can run over in moments and report back.” A twinge of guilt rushed past Darcy’s conscience too quickly to pay it much mind. With her plan, everyone would gain. Simmons would get the business, Mr. Hunter’s plane would get fixed and she would get her plane ride. It was the perfect solution.
Papa gave her a long look. “You spend too much time with that Simmons boy.”
“He’s just a friend.”
“Exactly,” said Papa. “If you loved him, well, then we’d need to discuss things.”
“I don’t.” Darcy didn’t elaborate. Papa would never understand her refusal to marry.
“Speaking of prospects,” said Mum, “I understand someone new is in town.” She paused dramatically, waiting for Papa to ask who it was. When he didn’t, she proceeded to enlighten him. “Dr. George Carrman, from Buffalo. I ran into him while I was out. He seems a very pleasant, likeable young man.”
“You met him?” Darcy’s mother had an almost miraculous ability to run into any eligible bachelor who happened into town.
Papa furrowed his brow. “We already have Doc Stevens. There’s no need for another doctor—and a young, inexperienced one at that. That’s the way it is these days. The young people get an education and think they can take away a man’s job.”
Mum laughed off his concerns. “George Carrman is not here to take away Dr. Stevens’s job. He’s just visiting.”
“And he’s not a physician yet,” Darcy added. “He’s still studying.”
“Carrman, you said?” Papa pulled his attention from the newspaper. “Don’t know the family. Who’s he visiting?”
“He’s a Kensington cousin.” Mum clearly took pleasure in this announcement. “Must be on Eugenia’s side.”
“Kensington, eh? And a doctor. Don’t suppose he’s married.”
“No, he’s not married,” snapped Darcy. Better to get it over at once. “And don’t worry, Beatrice has already arranged a picnic so I can meet him.”
Father removed his reading spectacles and set them on top of the newspaper. “I’m glad someone is looking out for your future.”
“I’m not interested,” she said.
Mum shook her head.
Papa ran his thumbnail down the newspaper’s fold, creating a knife’s edge. “Don’t go into this with a closed mind, Darcy. He may be a fine young man and deserving of your attention.”
Darcy toyed with the green beans on her plate, separating the two halves and rolling out the little beans.
“Your mother and I only want what’s best for you,” her father continued. “A good marriage will ease our worries. You’re what? Twenty-three? Your sister was already married and had her first child by that age. It’s time to settle on someone.” He unfolded his spectacles and put them on again.
The front door opened, ushering in a tumult that could only be Darcy’s sister, Amelia, children in tow. “Hello, Mum, Papa.” Her greeting trailed through the house.
Darcy had never been close to her older sister. Besides the eight-year difference in their ages, they had nothing in common. Amelia loved clothes and babies. Darcy wanted to be a great explorer. They hadn’t fought—well, not that much. They simply didn’t like the same things.
“I must tell you. I simply couldn’t wait.” Amelia winged into the dining room, coat and gloves still on. Pale and willowy where Darcy was short and dark, Amelia had commanded numerous beaus before settling on Charles Highbottom, a local dairy farmer with enough income to buy the fancy hats and gowns she favored.
The girls, aged five and eight, ran to Grandmum while ten-year-old Freddie went straight to his grandpapa.
Darcy’s father broke into a wide smile. “How’s my Frederick? Find any treasures lately?”
Ordinarily shy Freddie dug in his pocket and extracted a handful of dusty baubles, which he dumped on the table.