Echoes of Pemberley (39 page)

“
Family
?” Aiden repeated mockingly. “Cate, she’s the help.”

“Rose Todd is anything but
the help
.” Catie glared up at him. “She has loved and cared for me like a mother.”

“Sorry.” Aiden raised his hands in surrender. “But in truth . . . she
was
being paid for all that love and care, no?”

Catie pulled his jacket from her shoulders and held it out to him, clearly ready to go back inside. “Rose Todd is very dear to me, Aiden — not only to me but Ben and Sarah as well.”

“I see,” he conceded, suddenly unassuming. “But . . . please don’t go back inside, not while you’re cross with me.”

Catie sighed. He couldn’t have known and wouldn’t understand anyway. Rose’s relationship with the Darcys was the result of circumstance and rather unusual. “I’m not cross with you,” she said in a forgiving tone. “But I really should go to my brother now. He isn’t overly fond of long dinner parties and is probably ready to leave.”

“All right, as long as you aren’t cross.” Aiden slid his jacket back on. Then he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips.

His mouth was warm with the taste of dry red wine. “Aiden,” she started, but he kissed her again, stopping her words.

“Don’t speak,” he whispered, pulling her close to him. “Let’s end the evening there. Eh?”

Thankfully, Ben and Sarah had donned their coats and were giving their parting adieus to the Hirsts when Catie and Aiden returned.

“Ah, Aiden, there you are,” Mr. Hirst said playfully. “Thought I was going to have to have a stern word with you, lad.”

“No, Uncle, we were just on the terrace.” Aiden smiled. “I apologize if we’ve kept you and Mrs. Darcy waiting.”

“Not at all,” Ben said, holding out Catie’s coat for her.

“Good.” Aiden turned to Catie with a pleased look. “I look forward to having you at my birthday party in two weeks. Shall I pop over and give you a lift?”

“That won’t be necessary, Aiden,” Ben answered for his sister. “I shall drive her myself.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” Aiden consented gracefully, glancing warily at Ben. “In two weeks then, Cate.”

“Yes . . . two weeks,” Catie replied, her words lacking the luster Aiden would’ve preferred. “Cheers, Aiden.”

Chapter 24

“Catie, there is no way out of it . . . ” Sarah paused as Ben eavesdropped on her telephone conversation from behind. “Yes . . . I do understand, but the invitation has been accepted and you . . . ” Sarah paused again to listen, and Ben stepped forward. The sight of her husband made Sarah’s expression change from startled to a masked smile; she hoped he hadn’t noticed. “Yes, Catie, I look forward to seeing you too, dear. Bye-bye now.” Returning the receiver, Sarah turned to her husband. “And how long have you been lurking about, sir?”

Not being able to stifle a soft chuckle at Sarah, standing there with her mound of a belly and fuzzy slippers, Ben raised his brows reproachfully. “Long enough to know that a feeble attempt is being made to deceive me and . . . for future reference, madam, Darcys do
not
lurk.”

Sarah picked up the book she had been reading before Catie called and opened it with feigned attention, a futile effort to avoid the foreseeable discussion. Ben sat down in a restless manner and gave his chin a thoughtful caress between his forefinger and his thumb.

“I just don’t understand, Sarah. She is less than a month from seventeen. What girl that age doesn’t want to attend a party with other young people?”

Not looking up from her book, Sarah replied, “Well, darling, she
is
a Darcy. And, in my experience with
that
family socializing ranks right up there with lurking.” She cut her eyes at him with a satisfied smirk. “They simply don’t do it.” She lowered her voice and mumbled, “Least not without a fair amount of kicking and screaming.”

“Humph,” he uttered, looking at her over his cupped hand. “Well, she can kick and scream all she wants, but my sister
is
going to the lad’s birthday party.”

Sarah closed the book. “Why is it so important to you that she like him? You can’t very well force Catie to develop feelings for someone. And . . . to be honest, there is something about that boy . . . something about the Hirsts altogether that I just don’t care for.”

“This isn’t about the Hirsts! And, if I were to be totally truthful . . . well . . . I find them a bit . . . a bit . . . ”

“Beastly!” Sarah filled in.

“Pretentious, I was going to say, but that’s not the point. I would never try to force Aiden Hirst on Catie. Surely you have noticed how low in spirits she has been of late. If anything, I’m trying to snap her out of her gloom. It’s not normal for her to be so moody.”

Sarah laughed. “I cannot speak for seventeen-year-old boys, but girls of that age can be quite moody. I can assure you, darling, it is
very
normal.”

Ben reached for his newspaper. “Normal or not, come Saturday night Catie Darcy
will
be at Ardsley Manor. No matter what frame of mind she is in.” He opened the paper and disappeared into its fold.

“Sorry, Catie,” Sarah’s little internal voice echoed regretfully. “I tried.” Though in truth, she hadn’t tried too awfully hard. She never would “nudge”
(as Ben had put it) Catie in the direction of Aiden Hirst, but he
was
a boy. Not just a boy but a nice-looking boy who seemed fond of Catie. Being a woman, Sarah knew that the best medicine for a broken heart, especially at the tender age of seventeen, was the attentions of another. Although she sympathized with Catie’s foot-dragging protest of social activities, Sarah had to agree with Ben. It was best for her to be “nudged” a little — to attend the party at least.

* * *

Catie stared out of the window for the better part of the drive to Aiden’s birthday party. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t sulking, but she was. The exaggerated sighs that she exhaled every few minutes gave her away.

“You are aware, Sis, that I am taking you to a party . . . not the dentist.”

Turning from the window with a little smile at his joke, Catie sat back and focused on the road ahead.

“Was Sarah your first love, Bennet?” she asked, breaking the silence with what felt to him like a wrecking ball.

“I . . . ” Ben stammered as a quick flash of his university years passed through his brain. Not a part of his life he had
ever
planned on sharing with his little sister. “What exactly do you mean, Catie?”

“I
mean
. . . did you love anyone before you met Sarah?” She turned in her seat to face him. “Really love them, I mean.”

Ben cast a nervous glance in her direction and then quickly back to the windscreen. “No,” he replied simply.

“So, she
was
your first love?”

Very much wishing his sister was still silent and sulking, Ben stammered again, “No . . . I mean . . . yes . . . yes, she was.” Admonishing himself for being so inept in this particular area of parenting, Ben gave the accelerator a little push to pick up speed.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“Know what, dearest?”

Catie’s tone became frustrated. “Know that you loved her . . . you know, fancied her above all the others! Lord, Bennet, are you daft?”

“No, I’m not daft!” he said crossly. Then, after a moment’s silence, he added quietly, “I knew because . . . because I could be myself around Sarah. She enhanced my qualities while accepting and balancing my faults. I loved her for that. I still do. And.” He smiled at her. “She’s beautiful . . . very beautiful.”

“Ah, that’s sweet, Brother.” Catie reached over and patted his shoulder. “Almost romantic.”

“Oh, only
almost
!” She laughed, nodding, and he was pleased with his success. Nevertheless, Ben gave a look of gratitude to the heavens as they passed through the gate at Ardsley Manor. He escorted his sister inside and with a kiss to her cheek, turned her over to Aiden Hirst.

Knowing no one else except Aiden, Catie stayed close by his side for the better part of the evening. He attended her every need for refreshment and graciously introduced her to all of his friends, all the while keeping a gentle hold on her elbow. Catie eyed the large clock in the hall and rejoiced each time ten whole minutes passed. Scanning the crowd, she suddenly caught sight of Jenna Makepeace, Aiden’s former girlfriend. It was with Jenna that Catie had first met Aiden in London last spring. For whatever reason, Jenna had not returned to Davenport that year, and Catie had been so caught up, she hadn’t telephoned her friend to find out why. Catie smiled, but Jenna gave her a spiteful look and turned away.

A cluster of Aiden’s mates — his pack as he called them — succeeded in coercing him away from Catie. “Chap talk.” Aiden smiled down at her. “I’ll be right back. Will you be all right?”

Catie nodded and said, “Aiden, did you and Jenna part on bad terms? She’s here you know.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, love, she’s yesterday’s news.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Catie corrected. “But she would hardly look at me.”

“That’s because she’s jealous of you. Like most of the girls here tonight.” He smiled again, smugly this time, and walked away.

She flushed with indignation as she watched him disappear into the gent’s smoking room. During the nineteenth century such a room was for gentlemen only, adorned with hunting trophies, and not very inviting to a woman. Pemberley also had several rooms that boasted a more masculine décor for the sake of history and tradition. Tourists loved to hear how differently men and women lived a hundred years ago. Standing alone, Catie realized how little things had actually changed.

Making her way to the refreshment table, she glanced out over the room. Boys and girls danced or stood in small huddles talking and laughing. The band was decent but loud, and caused an irksome echo in the old room meant for a stringed orchestra, not heavy metal. The band members, tattooed and shaggy headed, were a stark contrast to the clean cut tennis- and polo-playing partygoers.

Enjoying her moment’s solitude, Catie sipped slowly at a glass of punch. She had promised Ben no alcohol, not even a small glass of wine while he wasn’t present. “Too many chaps for you not to be thinking with a clear head,” he had said firmly. Shaking her head at her brother’s relentless safeguarding, she noticed Jenna approaching, still bearing the spiteful look. Catie glanced away, hoping she was only in search of a drink. This soon seemed unlikely however, as she was eyeing Catie directly and heading straight for her.

“Hello, Catie,” Jenna said shortly.

“Jenna,” Catie replied equally as curt.

“I see you have taken a fancy to one of my toss-aways.”

Catie didn’t answer the snide comment, so Jenna moved closer, uncomfortably close. So close she could feel the girl’s breath on her cheek. Not caring for the intimacy Catie turned her head, but Jenna took this as an invitation to whisper into her ear.

“Just giving you fair warning,” Jenna hissed. “Aiden will forget he ever knew you once he has enjoyed your
company
, if you know what I mean.” She pulled away and gave Catie a meaningful look.

Catie set her glass down, her pulse quickening with offence. She met Jenna’s eyes directly. “I don’t foresee that being a problem as I never intend on allowing Aiden Hirst the pleasure of my
company
, as you call it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Catie brushed by her and rushed for the doors to the terrace. She needed air.

It was with an angry, heaving chest that Catie inhaled the cold October night. She was not well seasoned to catty, backbiting females, but she had held her own. She was glad for that. Her pulse calmed as she leaned on the thick stone balustrade and stared up into the starry night, wishing it was time for Ben to come take her home.

Aiden appeared suddenly. “I thought I would find you out here.”

Startled, Catie turned to him. He sauntered over to her and gently lifted her chin with his fingers. “Now look, young lady, I’ll allow you to duck out of my party now, but once we are married — ” He stopped to cluck his tongue with disapproval. “You will have to suffer and smile through the whole soirée. Do I make myself clear?”

Catie’s expression was such a mixture of uncertainty and puzzlement, it forced Aiden to laugh. “It was a joke, Catie — lighten up.” He leaned over the railing beside her. “But . . . one day you will be the lady of a house, not so unlike this one, I’d wager. And you will have to assume that responsibility — mistress . . . hostess.”

Catie’s eyes scanned the large stone home as he spoke and then rested on his profile. “That is, of course, if I marry a man of wealth. Maybe I’ll shock all of Derbyshire — all of England for that matter — and marry a pauper.”

“And deny all of those future socialites in there the opportunity to pant at your feet like neglected dogs? Come now, Cate! You’re a Darcy — a beauty.” He shook his head and stroked her hair. “The society columns will always carry your name, and not only will you be invited to every social event, but women will pace their homes in wait of an invitation to yours.”