Echoes of Pemberley (31 page)

“Oh, I’ll heed what you say all right, Miss Catie.” Sean always called her “Miss” when she spoke like royalty. “Do you wish to come back on your own two feet or shall I carry you sacked over my shoulder?” He bowed grandly and added, “I humbly await your command, m’lady.”

Catie’s hesitation was evident only by the dropping of her hands from her hips. Her voice kept its conviction. “I will come back when and
only
when I am ready,
Mister
Kelly!”

Sean smirked in a pleased sort of way. “You know, Miss Catie, I had a feeling you were going to choose over-the-shoulder.”

“Sean! Mind your temper,” she heard Rose warn as he started towards her in fast deliberate strides. Catie’s eyes grew wide as she hastily surveyed her surroundings. Behind her was the little drop off waterfall she had meandered down river to look at, and the embankment on both sides was far too high to climb. She was trapped, and with the flow of the current working in his favor, Sean was fast upon her.

“No!” she screamed as her feet were pulled from the water with such ease, she almost hadn’t realized he had picked her up. Finding herself suddenly upended, Catie could feel him struggling with the extra weight as he carefully navigated the large slick river stones. “Put me down!” she screamed.

“Be careful, Seany!” Rose called out fretfully.

“Relax, Auntie, all’s well; just toting the wee vixen back to safe waters.” He stopped long enough to shift his load and give Rose a reassuring smile.

“Vixen!” Catie repeated, beginning to flail in protest. “Who are you calling a vixen?

“Stop kicking, lass, or we’ll both be swept down the river. My aunt will be none too happy with me if I accidentally drop you over the wee falls there.”

“Over the falls?” Catie cried, nervously grabbing hold of his waistband to steady her jostling from his wobbly unpredictable footing.

“Oh, stop your whining. You’ve only your stubborn self to blame!” he huffed, stepping slowly and carefully.

Once back in the calm trickle of the wading pool, Sean stopped to catch his breath and utter a few choice words in Gaelic.

“Put me down!” she demanded. “And stop saying things I don’t understand!”

“You want down, eh, lass?”

“Yes, and
now
!

He winked at her nephews who were looking up at him wide-mouthed. “She wants down, boys. What do you say?”

The two heads nodded in unison.

Effortlessly, he hoisted his victim off of his shoulder and caught her cradled in his forearms. Looking down at her, his head flew back with laughter. Catie’s face was a deep red from anger and humiliation.

“Put . . . me . . . down!” she said slowly through closed teeth, her temper now at its pinnacle.

“As you wish, m’lady,” Sean said obligingly and gave her a gentle toss into the deeper waters of the pool.

Rose gasped, but Sean just walked casually out of the river and sat down on the bank while Catie floundered and slapped at the water to get her footing.

“Sean Kelly!” Rose gave him an insistent shove. “Get up from there and help her.”

“But, Auntie,” Sean argued, grinning. “She knows this river far better than me. How could I be of any help to her?”

Soaked from head to toe and coughing, Catie finally dredged herself from the river’s bottom. Her face was still scarlet, indicating the cold water had not chilled her fury. Sean tossed back his head and laughed again, making her glower as she sloshed towards him.

“No one . . . has ever . . .
manhandled
me that way before!” she shrieked, stopping in front of him. “You . . . you . . . ”

“Insufferable ass,” he finished for her as a wicked gypsy grin spread over his face.

“
Arrgh
!” Catie screamed and kicked a large amount of water in his direction.

Rose grabbed a blanket and wrapped it tightly around Catie. “Go sit in the sun, child, so you’ll not catch cold,” she insisted. Then she turned to her nephew and gave the back of his head several smart clips.

Walking away, Catie smiled with appreciation as Sean cried, “ow . . . ow . . . ow,” in between each smack.

In the bright sunshine, away from the water, she spread out the blanket and lay down. Wet or not, it was a perfect day for sunbathing, and the late afternoon heat worked instantly to warm her skin. Back at the river, she heard Rose instructing the boys to collect their spades and buckets, her voice an equal mixture of aggravation and affection. A mother’s voice, Catie thought. A few seconds later a tall, shadowy figure took her light, and she opened one eye to a slit. Sean loomed overhead, the sun at his back like a great firestorm he had left in his wake.

“Aunt Rose said I had to apologize.” He sat down on the blanket next to her. “So?” he asked, still grinning. “How’s your pride? Still red and stinging?”

She glared at him. “Faring as good as your head I’d say. Is it still stinging?”

“Aye.” Sean rubbed the spot gingerly. “A mean arm, that woman. I reckon I deserved it though. A man should mind his elders whether he agrees with them or not.”

“Is that your idea of an apology?” she asked sharply.

Sean leaned over, rested his chin in his palm, and gazed at her.

“Well, are you going to apologize or stare at me?”

“You’re a very pretty girl, Catie Darcy, but when you’re spitting mad and soaking wet you’re downright beautiful. How’s that for an apology?”

Speechless, Catie rose up on one elbow and stared into his eyes, soft, blue, and sincere. Their faces were close, kissing close. But they weren’t alone.

“Seany!” Rose called. “Where’s George’s right shoe?”

Sean got up from the blanket, slowly, without releasing her eyes. “Coming, Auntie,” he called back. Then he turned and walked away.

* * *

On Wednesday morning it was approaching ten o’clock before Catie made her way down to the kitchen for breakfast. While waiting for her toast to pop, she noticed Mr. Johnson unwrapping a large beef tenderloin from white butcher’s paper.

“Are we having roast for dinner tonight?”

“That’d be why I’m unwrapping it, Miss Catie,” Mr. Johnson replied.

Catie knew Mr. Johnson would never make a tenderloin roast just for her, the twins, and live-in staff. “Is my brother coming home today?”

“Should be here any time now; the missus called early this morning to order supper . . . said they were leaving then.”

Leaving her toast, which popped as soon as she bolted from the kitchen, Catie ran to the front hall. Both large entrance doors were opened wide in anticipation of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s return, a centuries-old Pemberley tradition. If weather was at all permitting, the doors were propped back, fully open as a welcome home gesture to the master and mistress of the house.

The morning sun was spilling into the hall, bringing with it the smell of freshly cut grass. Catie stepped outside to sit on the steps — sit and wait as she had done as a small girl, waiting on a big brother who had been too long away at school. She would spend hours on those steps, watching the drive for any sign of him. Both her father and Rose had learned there was no cajoling her back inside if Ben was expected, so they gave up trying and instead made sure she was dressed properly for the weather.

It was only minutes before she saw her brother’s car and stood as it rolled smoothly over the gravel drive and stopped in front of the house. Ben stepped out and came around the car to give Sarah a hand, and Catie was sorry to see that he wore the same hard expression with which he had left.

He walked Sarah up the steps with his hand to the small of her back as Catie hurried down to meet them. “You’re home!” she said unnecessarily.

Sarah smiled warmly; she knew how worried and curious Catie had been. “How about this, Bennet, we have ourselves a little welcoming party. I do believe we were missed.” Sarah pressed her cheek to Catie’s in welcome. “Everything is fine,” she whispered softly into Catie’s ear.

Catie looked beyond Sarah to her brother. He didn’t look as if everything were fine.

“Is that true, Sis? Did you miss us?”

She nodded as he leaned over the top of her head and gave her his usual brotherly peck.

Catie walked alongside them up the steps and into the hall, studying Ben for a sign, a clue that he wanted to tell her something . . . but nothing. He simply kissed Sarah and told her he would be in his study the rest of the afternoon if she needed him.

Disappointed, discouraged, and longing for his attention, an explanation, something, Catie padded softly behind him down the long corridor to his study. Reverently, she stood and watched him fumble through his pockets for the key to unlock his door. Once he found it, he slid it into the lock and glanced back at her. He knew what she wanted, but he just couldn’t do this right now. Ben’s head fell back as a long heavy sigh left his lungs through puffy cheeks. “Not now, Catie, please, dearest . . . not right now.”

Not responding, for his words required none, Catie watched as he turned the key and disappeared into his study. She never blinked until the door closed behind him.

Perfumed arms wrapped her from behind, as Sarah’s whisper tickled her ear once more. “He needs our patience right now, dear. He has been betrayed by someone he thought was a close friend.”

Catie gasped and turned to face her. “Mr. Worthington!”

Sarah nodded and added, “And his own good judgment.”

“But he’s not at fault. How could he have known?” Catie protested.

Sarah’s eyes moved to the closed study door. “Try convincing
him
of that.” Catie’s own gaze followed Sarah’s, her throat suddenly thick with emotion. “Give him some time, a little space.”

“Is he all right?”

“He will be.” Sarah smiled. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, so Sarah patted her arm and started to walk away. “Sarah,” Catie stopped her. “Uncle Horace?”

“He’s been with us constantly the last few days, and a great help and comfort he has been, I might add.”

“Do you think . . . ” Catie hesitated.

“I know,” Sarah replied with smiling conviction.

Catie nodded again. “That’s good.”

Chapter 20

“Not right now,” must have meant not today, not tomorrow, or the next day either. Catie’s eagerness to know what had happened in London sat too long, like bitter, overly steeped tea. She told herself that she didn’t even care any longer, but that wasn’t the truth. She did want to know, but evidently Ben wasn’t going to tell her. All summer it seemed, brother and sister had been at odds over something, as if they had been slowly climbing opposite peaks and now stood high and at such a distance, they might never meet again in the valley below. He was seemingly unwilling to take even a step in her direction, and she was giving him his space as Sarah had advised. So much space you could hear an echo between them.

By Friday evening, even Sarah, who had the patience of Job when it came to her family, was losing her usual fortitude. The time for her to implement some clever scheme had come.

It was shortly after the boys had gone to bed that Catie stood to excuse herself for the evening. “I think I’ll turn in early tonight,” she declared through a fake yawn.

“That’s a good idea, dear. You shall need your rest,” Sarah replied.

“Rest? Rest for what?”

“To practice your galloping tomorrow,” Sarah stated with sureness as if it had been planned for weeks. “Your brother will take you out to practice after lunch.”

With an abrupt snap, Ben’s head flew up from his newspaper. “Sarah, I am very busy tomorrow. The garden party is on Sunday, and I’ll be needed here.” He cast a wary glance at Catie. “And anyway, why the sudden urgency?”

“I am sure the setup will go just as smooth, if not smoother, without all of your grandiose supervision and finger pointing,” Sarah said. “And . . . seeing that you refuse to allow her to ride alone, it is you who must take her to practice.” She skillfully raised her hammer and with one sharp blow drove in the last nail. “I was speaking with Sean Kelly in the kitchen earlier today and he claims he has never seen such reluctance in a student. He thinks our Catie may just be incapable of galloping.”

“Incapable!” Ben exclaimed. “I’ll have him know that a Darcy isn’t
incapable
of anything, at least not when it comes to horsemanship.”

“Yes, darling, that is exactly what I told him, and therein lays the urgency. Sean will only be here another week.”

Catie listened to the exchange with quiet alarm, trying in vain to catch Sarah’s eye with an expressive plea.
What is she thinking
?
The man has hardly strung three words together the last few days.

“
Incapable
. . . Catherine, be dressed and ready to ride after breakfast. We shall settle this matter early. Grandiose or not I
will
be overseeing the setup tomorrow afternoon.” Ben shot Sarah a daring look.