Her pulse skipped and bounded. Could it be? Seven years since she last saw an aeroplane. Seven years waiting. It had to be, it just had to. “Why did you stop?” Best friend, Beatrice Fox, pirouetted under her lace-trimmed parasol. “We’re already late.” “Just wait a moment.” Darcy stood still, listening. The sun’s heat shimmered off the baked road. Grasses rustled and crickets hummed, but no low drone of an engine. She absently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Perhaps she was mistaken. She sighed and resumed walking to the grange. “Blake’s cousin George from Buffalo is visiting this week,” chattered Beatrice. She was lately engaged to the only son of the richest family in town, and every relation seemed to be paying respects. “You’d like him. Perhaps you could spend some time together.” Darcy cringed. Her friend was forever trying to create a match for her, quite as bad as Papa. “What’s wrong with the man?” “Absolutely nothing.” Beatrice wove an arm around hers.
