Echoes of Pemberley (16 page)

Catie watched as a strange shade of green washed over Sarah’s face. Then, cupping her mouth, she pushed urgently away from the table and ran from the room, Ben fast on her heels.

* * *

Sitting on the front steps, blinded by the sun that was now warming the large façade of the house, Catie rested her face on folded arms. Then she untied and retied her boots and made small talk with Clancy, who had brought the horses up from the stables. Geronimo, Ben’s horse, was an impressive animal, solid black and a good two hands taller than Chloe. Being a lover of all things equine, the American Wild West fascinated Bennet Darcy as a boy and was reflected in the names of every horse he had owned.

When Ben finally exited the house he bid Catie to her feet with a simple, “Mount up!”

“How’s Sarah?” she asked, double-stepping to keep up with him. “Maybe we shouldn’t leave her.”

“Rose is with her, and I was shooed from the room.” Ben settled Catie in her saddle and smiled at the worried look on her face. “She’s fine, Sis, and you and I’ve work to do.” He patted her leg and then mounted Geronimo.

The first order of the day was to observe Catie’s improved riding skills. Ben was pleased with her post, but when she moved easily between her trots and canters, all while keeping her posting rhythm, he beamed. Quite pleased with herself, Catie pulled Chloe to a halt alongside Geronimo.

“Pretty good, eh, Brother?” she said proudly.

“Jolly good, Catherine! That Kelly lad is quite the riding instructor.”

A cross look spread over her face. “I beg your pardon, Ben. These are my accomplishments, not Sean Kelly’s!”

“And so they are!” He grinned. “Either way you’ve made significant progress. And you, my dear sister, will finish the full six weeks of riding lessons as we agreed.”

“But . . . I thought you said we would talk about it.” Of course Catie no longer had a desire to quit her riding lessons but would’ve preferred making the decision for herself.

“I believe we just did,” he replied as he took off, calling back over his shoulder for her to hurry along.

Rolling her eyes for the second time that morning, Catie pressed Chloe into a canter and followed her brother.

As the Darcy siblings trotted between growing crops of corn, wheat, and barley, Ben pointed out to Catie which fields were leased and the few that were still maintained by Pemberley. Throughout history the estate had always been a fully working farm, but now there was more profit to be made by leasing the land to dairies and food companies. Pemberley’s acreage had grown significantly in the nineteenth century, but was reduced just as significantly during the early part of the twentieth century. Currently the estate was just over four thousand acres of grazing fields and rich, arable farmland.

While Ben talked, Catie glanced down the valley and over sheep grazing between the hedgerows to Lambton, the ruins of a little hamlet that sat at the base of a knoll. At one time the village had been essential to the success of an estate the size of Pemberley, but now the ancient structures were crumbling, and scraggly trees and brush grew between walls where life once existed.

“When did Lambton burn down, Ben?” she asked over his talk of farming.

Ben smiled. As usual his sister was more interested in Pemberley’s romantic past than its agricultural accomplishments. “Over a hundred years ago. The fields on that side of the river caught fire and winds swept the blaze into the village. There was no reason to rebuild. Most folks had left to work in factories or on the railroad by then.”

As he watched his sister stare wistfully down at the remains, a whiff of burning came to Ben like a ghost. He turned to see a billowing cloud of smoke rising from an overseer’s cottage. “Blast,” he said under his breath.

“What?” Catie asked, snapped from her reverie.

“It is far too dry and windy to be burning rubbish today. Come, Sis, we must call on the Ledfords first.”

Ben steered Geronimo up a narrow dirt road with Catie following close behind. Of the hundred or so cottages that once dotted the estate’s property in the years when sowing was done by horse and plow, and reaping by scythes and strong backs, less than a dozen remained. Of these, most were occupied by employees of the companies that leased Pemberley’s fertile low lands.

Once the cottage was in sight, Catie could see a man tending a small fire set away from the house and a woman hanging laundry on a wash line. The man stopped poking at the hot embers and approached the riders.

Ben dismounted, and Catie was promptly at his side. “Good day, Mr. Ledford.” He offered his hand.

As the men exchanged greetings Catie glanced at the woman putting out the wash. She stayed at her task and made no acknowledgement of her visitors. Standing at the door was a small, dirty faced girl who stared intently at Catie. She gave the little girl a friendly wave, but the child didn’t return the gesture.

“ . . . .increasing winds are forecasted,” she heard Ben say as she came back to the conversation. “I’m sorry, but you’ll need to douse the fire.”

“Aye, Mr. Darcy, it’s naught but a bit of kitchen rubbish that I can see to later,” the man amiably agreed.

“Thank you, Mr. Ledford, one cannot be too careful,” Ben replied, and then called out to Mrs. Ledford. She clearly wasn’t the talkative sort but stopped her work in order to respond to his polite queries about herself and the children.

As they spoke, Catie looked back at Mr. Ledford and the small hairs on her neck rose. Taking advantage of Ben’s turned back, the man stared freely at the young budding flower before him. Dragging his tongue across his parched lips, Mr. Ledford let his eyes travel deliberately and slowly down her form.

Catie felt uncomfortable, violated. Mr. Ledford smiled at her in a way that caused gooseflesh to stipple on her arms. She nervously touched her brother’s elbow.

Ben turned abruptly, and, although Catie was unaware of it, he caught the leer. Leaning down, Ben spoke in a low angry voice that caused a spike of fear to fill her stomach. “Mount your horse and ride out.”

Catie immediately obeyed him, but curiosity would not keep her from looking back over her shoulder. Ben moved close to Mr. Ledford and words were exchanged. Their voices were low but heated. She saw Mr. Ledford wave his hands in an, “I don’t want any trouble” fashion. The conversation was brief. Ben left quietly, but the look in his eyes could have set Lambton ablaze again.

Catie hurriedly moved Chloe down the path and waited at the bottom of the drive. When Ben caught up, he didn’t look at her. She privately counseled herself on whether or not she should ask what had happened, but the fear in her stomach won the internal debate and curiosity was defeated. She remained silent.

They had not gone far when Ben stopped his horse and called his sister over to him. Pointing to the ground he asked her, “What is this?”

Catie looked where he was pointing but saw nothing.

“Are these tracks from your bicycle, Catherine?”

Catie looked again and saw her tire treads from a muddier day. “They are,” she said cautiously.

“You have been this far down the river on your bicycle?”

“I have,” she confirmed, cautious still.

Ben drew in and released a deep breath as he turned and glanced back in the direction of Ledford’s cottage. She waited for him to say more, but he only motioned for her to move on. His anger was not for his sister but rather himself. Sarah had tried to tell him, but Ben had preferred to turn a blind eye to his sister’s maturity, leaving her in possession of a woman’s body but uneducated on the evils of man.
How could he have let her stray so far from the house
? He shuddered when he thought of what might have happened had Catie come upon Ledford alone.

In silent contemplation over the next half hour, Ben decided that there was no help for it, Mr. Ledford must be evicted. Regret for the family was a small price to pay for the safety of others.
How dare that man look at his little sister like that
?

Having matters settled in his mind, Ben became slightly better company, and Catie was glad for the return of conversation. Now in the far outskirts of their estate, where she had seldom visited, Catie watched as her brother stopped and spoke to everyone who crossed their paths. Bennet Darcy was not just at ease with the rural farmers and country people, he was at home. He even rolled up his sleeves and spent the better part of an hour helping to restart a tractor that had seen better days.

“Not a piece of Pemberley machinery,” he was quick to inform her upon remounting his horse.

Catie smiled up at him. This was the Bennet Darcy she had fallen in love with as a child: strong, handsome, and good to those who depended on him.

The morning waned and the wind picked up as Ben had forecast. Finished with their business, they headed back home. Catie was dusty and exhausted. For several hours she had suffered talk relating to fishing, hunting, crops, and the weather. She was even offered a bowl of rabbit stew with the assurance that every ingredient had come from Pemberley soil, including the rabbit. Catie politely declined and watched her brother finish off his stew by mopping the bowl clean with the accompanying brown bread. She laughed softly to herself, thinking how Sarah would have scolded his manners.

The return trip moved along faster, as most work had stopped for the midday meal. A narrow drive they had passed earlier now echoed with the strums of a guitar, and the music persuaded Ben down the lane with a tired and hungry sister in tow.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have refused the rabbit stew, Sis,” was the reply she received for her complaints.

“I don’t eat cute furry animals, Bennet!”

They approached a small cottage surrounded by a stone fence, and Catie saw that a man in a wheelchair was playing the smooth, folk-like tunes. Seeing Ben and Geronimo, the man stopped strumming and put down the instrument. Smiling broadly, he threw up his hand and yelled, “Bennet Darcy! Halloo, lad.”

Once on the ground Ben motioned for Catie to join him, which she did though she hated the thought of another mount. Chloe seemed to get taller and taller as the morning wore on. They entered through a flimsy whitewashed gate and joined the man in the front garden.

Ben put a proud hand on her shoulder. “Mr. Reid, do you remember Catie?”

“Do I? But...she was only a wee lassie when I last saw her! Come close and let me see you, child.” Mr. Reid reached for the glasses hanging from a chain around his neck.

His hand still on Catie’s shoulder, Ben urged her forward as if to reassure her it was okay. Catie moved a few steps closer and saw Mr. Reid’s eyes widen. He turned to Ben and said, “Great God, It’s astonishing!”

Ben smiled. “I know; she looks more like Mother every day.”

Upon closer inspection Catie could see the man had no legs. Whatever had befallen Mr. Reid had left him with only one stump of a knee. The other leg was missing altogether.

Overly delighted to have the company, Mr. Reid briefly chatted with Ben about local happenings and then, for Catie’s sake, went into a long detailed story of how their mother, Mrs. Darcy, had delivered Mr. Reid’s eldest daughter.

Margaret Darcy had stopped by to bring supper to his bedridden wife, when the poor woman went into labor. “The midwife was called, but that girl o’mine wasn’t waitin’ on no midwife. No, Mrs. Darcy herself had to catch the bundle!”

With obvious skepticism Catie looked at Ben, who was now relaxed against the stone wall. “It’s all true!” he said.

They reminisced a while longer as the sun reached as high as it was going to get that day. Noticing the hour, Ben declared that the two had better head home before a search party was sent out on their behalf. Shaking Mr. Reid’s hand, he asked if there was anything the family needed.

“To be honest, lad, me girl could use work. The missus can’t keep up the hours. Her health is not what it used to be. Maggie tried waitin’ tables at the local, but . . . ” Mr. Reid stopped and glanced at Catie. “To put it simple, Benny, it weren’t a proper place for the lass. The girl can make a tight bed though.”

The words had barely left the man’s lips when Ben said, “Mr. Reid, that’s not necessary. As you know Father left me with strict instructions to care for you and your family.”

Mr. Reid sat back as his friendly expression washed suddenly with offence. “Your father blamed himself for my stupidity! Me and mine won’t be beholden to no one. The only thing a Reid is going to take from the Darcys is pay for an honest day’s work.”

Ben glanced down at his boots like a scolded boy. “Yes, sir,” he responded quietly.

Catie was stunned. She had never seen anyone speak to Ben that way.

With a slight turn of his chair, Mr. Reid banged on the large plate glass window and called his daughter’s name. While they waited for the girl, he told Catie that Maggie was named for the fine lady who brought her into the world.

When the girl appeared at the door she seemed apprehensive, but her father’s insistence persuaded her out. Keeping her eyes low, she moved to his side. Mr. Reid told the girls they might remember playing together as children, as Catie’s father would often bring her on his visits. Catie searched her brain but couldn’t recall the girl. In truth, even her father’s face was no longer easily remembered. She knew that if it wasn’t for Ben’s strong resemblance and pictures, her father would’ve already been lost to her forever. Recall the girl or not, an urging look from Ben told Catie to acknowledge her. She smiled pleasantly. “Hello, Maggie.”