Echoes of Pemberley (9 page)

“Oh.” She smiled and batted her eyes innocently as she spoke with a distinct and well-bred shire accent. “At my fine boarding school. I believe the course fell between
How to marry a rich husband
and
Hosting a grand dinner party
.”

He smiled at her quick wit and gestured to her horse with his chin. “Mount your horse, Miss Catie. We have a long afternoon ahead of us.”

Other than a small remark about the unusual heat, he rode quietly beside her. Catie knew they were heading back to the open grassland by the river, and her stomach tightened at the thought of a long afternoon spent trying to gallop. She was busy rationalizing the need to overcome her fears when he abruptly pulled his horse to a stop and, by natural reaction, Catie did the same.

“Miss Catie, I just want to clarify something. I didn’t ask you to saddle your horse for any reason other than to improve your skills.”

“Oh,” she said, wondering if this was his idea of an apology.

“But truly,” he questioned, “where did you learn to saddle a horse?”

“We must tack up our own mounts at school. But my dad,” — Catie paused and swallowed — “he wouldn’t allow me to ride until I learned.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised. “I respect him for that.”

“He also would have given me a good wigging for being cheeky with Clancy yesterday.” She didn’t know why she said this, but for some strange reason, she wanted him to know.

“Then I respect him even more.”

She stared at him momentarily and then looked away. There was silence until a slight breeze went soughing though the trees overhead and sent a few birds loudly off in flight.

“Why?” His voice startled her, and she jerked her head back to meet his eyes again.

“Why?” she repeated.

“Yes.” He smiled now. “Why then did you snap Clancy’s head off yesterday if you were taught better?”

Catie shrugged. “I guess when you have been told all of your life that you have a temper, you start to believe it.”

He watched her for a moment with a rather solemn look on his face then a grin started to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“Is something funny to you, Mr. Kelly?”

“Well, yeah.” The grin grew larger. “I was just thinking how much easier my work would have been this summer if you had been told that you were an expert horsewoman.” The grin broke free and spread over his face, soft and good-humored. It was a nice expression — one with which Catie surmised those closest to him would have been familiar.

Fighting the urge to grin back at him, she straightened in her saddle to her full height and declared, “You’re an ass, Mr. Kelly — a complete and insufferable ass!”

Not being able to help himself, Sean burst out laughing at her insult, and Catie narrowed her eyes at him, affecting to look insulted.

“Humph,” she grunted and trotted off rather tall and dignified, just as Percival had described her.

Still laughing, Sean shook his head and murmured, “Like a queen on parade.”

After a long hour spent practicing the gallop in the dappled shade of the river’s tall white willows, Sean saw that Chloe’s willingness to continue being a good sport to her mistress was beginning to wane.

“That’ll be enough for today then,” he called out as she cantered back towards him, hands fiercely gripping the reins, he noticed.

To cool their mounts they walked slowly and quietly side by side back to the stables. As they climbed the gentle incline away from the river, a much welcomed breeze slightly picked up, rustling the grass and brush. Hot, Catie lifted her head and closed her eyes to let the light wind blow over her. He was watching her. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel his eyes roaming over her slender, extended neck and for the first time ever felt the surge of power that her feminine body possessed. She peeked at him through a slit in one eye, and he turned abruptly away, his ears pink at the tips.

“You need to give your horse more head,” he stated with an exaggerated authority, refusing to look at her again “You must relax but keep your position. Try and become one with her stride.”

She bit back a grin. “I’ll try harder tomorrow.”

“Good.” Hazarding a glance her way once more, he gave her a teacherly nod that seemed older than his years and then kept his eyes trained forward the rest of the way.

Percival was standing in the stable yard when they rode back in and threw up a hand in greeting as he approached the horses. “Afternoon, Percival,” Sean said warmly as he drew his horse to a stop and swung out of the saddle.

“Afternoon!” Percival returned. “Can I take your horse?”

“Thanks, mate.” Sean passed his reins over to Percival’s big, calloused hand and then turned to Catie, who was just dismounting. “Give Chloe a good brush down and a warm wash after you remove her saddle, aye.”

She spun around to face him and opened her mouth to object, but he stopped her.

“And mind that you do a good job of it because I’ll be checking behind you.” Ignoring her flabbergasted expression, he made a friendly parting comment to Percival and started off.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

Sean stopped and turned around. “It’s a hot afternoon, Miss Catie, and I fancy me a pint at the Green Man. Is something amiss, miss?” He grinned at his own cleverness.

Still flushed from her ride, Catie’s face went almost scarlet. “Yes, something’s amiss! Why is it that Percival can see to your horse but not mine?”

He held his arms out to his side and gave his shoulders an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, but I have long since mastered the gallop.”

“And what does that have to do with it?” Now thoroughly enraged, Catie folded her arms tightly over her chest and glowered at him.

“As I said earlier, to improve your skills,” he said then gallantly bowed. “Till tomorrow, m’lady.”

2 August, 1918
He was waiting by the river again today. He smiled when he saw me. My heart is Arthur’s. Taking my hand, he led me into the woods and kissed me tenderly, then harder. I thought I might fall through a hole in the earth or float over the forest canopy. He brushed my cheek and brought his lips to mine again. The sound of a carriage startled us. He grasped my elbow and together we ran farther into the woodlands. I would have run all the way to Scotland had he asked me.

“
All the way to Scotland
. . . how romantic.” Catie rolled onto her back and looked dreamily at the vast blue sky overhead. In the next few pages, Arthur and Mary’s romance heated up rather quickly, and the clandestine nature of the affair only added to its intrigue. Biting her lip in constant apprehension of the lovers being discovered, she read breathlessly until she heard the hum of Ben’s car speeding up the approach road. “Finally!” she said, slamming the diary closed.

“Good Heavens, child, you smell like a barn,” Rose fussed and stirred the air with a tea cloth when Catie entered the kitchen.

Catie sniffed, wrinkled her nose, and headed straight for the sink. “Thank your nephew. He has had me doing everything but mucking stalls these last few days.”

Rose nodded with understanding. “Oh, he is a hard one, that boy, just like his father. Not a day goes by that my dear sister doesn’t have to work just to keep on equal ground with that man.”

“Is he cruel to her, Nan?” Catie asked as she turned off the tap and accepted the towel Rose offered.

“Oh, no.” Rose shook her head. “As a matter of fact, Seamus and Emma Kelly have a passionate love that you will rarely find these days, Catherine.”

“Really?” Catie’s eyes widened. Sean Kelly had only mentioned his father a couple of times, but from his reports, Seamus Kelly didn’t sound very romantic.

“Mm-hmm.” Rose nodded. “But the man can be impossible. I have known my poor sister to be driven to take a drink well before lunch time. It will most certainly take a strong woman to stand beside my nephew in life. Kelly men are a fiery, Irish lot and notorious for being difficult to live with.”

Strong
, Catie thought sarcastically. She’d more likely have to be stupid to want to marry Sean Kelly. But she wisely held her tongue on the matter.

“Now, get out of those filthy clothes and dress for dinner. Your brother’s back and he’ll be in no mood to dine with a mule!” Rose shooed Catie out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Bennet Darcy’s trip to London had not been a successful one. He was tense, and his family went about the business of eating quietly. Even Geoffrey and George were subdued. All but slumped in disappointment, Catie felt rather subdued herself. It had been her hope to question Ben immediately on Rosings Park but, seeing the grim expression on her brother’s face, she prudently decided to wait.

“By the way,” Ben said to Sarah, breaking the droning rhythm of clanging glass and scraping forks. “I purchased that rescued thoroughbred I was telling you about. His health has substantially improved from the abuse and malnutrition he suffered, and he’s ready to be trained. If all goes well, he should make a good horse for Geoffrey in a few more years.” He glanced over at his son while speaking and frowned at the trail of peas the child had made neatly round his potatoes. “Geoffrey, stop playing with your food!” The boy, startled at his father’s voice, quickly disassembled his artistic endeavor.

“With everything that is going on, do you really need the obligation of training an abused horse?” Sarah replied, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

“I could use the diversion. And besides, that young nephew of Rose’s is supposed to be some sort of expert with horses. So I thought I would take advantage of his being here. Geoffrey! Stop chasing the peas round your plate, lad. Smash your peas on the back of your fork and then eat them, Son.”

A look passed between husband and wife, and Catie saw it. Sarah then looked pointedly at her and asked, “Catie, will you be a dear and take the boys up to Mrs. Newell and help her ready them for bed?”

Catie didn’t appreciate being sent away with a couple of five-year-olds, and furthermore, there was more going on between Ben and Sarah than whether or not he should have bought a horse. She considered arguing the point but, after another glance at Ben, thought better of it.

“But we haven’t had our dessert, Mummy!” Geoffrey quickly protested and George echoed his brother’s sentiment, “We haven’t had our dessert, Mummy!”

“I shall have your dessert sent up to you,” Sarah assured them, kind but firm, and gave Catie a dismissive nod that was meant to be obeyed.

“Yes, Sarah,” she assented softly. “Come then, lads. I’ll tell you a story.”

Geoffrey and George jumped down happily from their seats and followed their aunt from the room. Once they cleared the door, Catie grabbed the two boys by the collar and pulled them out of sight. “Make a peep and I’ll box your ears!” she hissed menacingly.

Wide-eyed, Geoffrey clamped a hand over his mouth lest he slip up. George did the same.

“Forgive me, Bennet.” Catie turned back just in time to hear Sarah speak. “I know you are terribly distressed with this Wesley Howell situation, but you mustn’t take it out on the children.”

“
Howell
?” Catie repeated softly as Ben pushed away from the table, crossed the room and closed the door.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said, turning back to her. “I’ll pop in and speak with the boys before they go to bed.”

“Do you wish to talk about it?” she asked.

Shaking his head, he sat back down. “Not tonight, Sarah. There is nothing more to do with Wesley Howell at the moment but wait. Tell me instead what has been going on around here. How are Catie and that Kelly lad getting on?”

“Well, I have heard her refer to him with a few names that would make you blush. How’s that for getting on?”

“Do you think I should intervene?”

“Not unless you can somehow change his appearance.”

“His appearance?” he questioned.

“Yes, Ben, certainly you have noticed that he is a rather handsome, young chap.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah, but I’m rather ill-equipped to judge a handsome chap from one that is not. And forgive me if I’m daft, but what the devil does that have to do with it?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible that Catie might be developing a slight schoolgirl crush on our Mr. Kelly.”

“A crush!” he exclaimed. “But she’s . . . she’s . . . ”

“She’s sixteen, Bennet!” Sarah filled in for him. “And whether she’s developing a crush or not, no girl that age wants a nice-looking chap for an instructor.”

Ben rubbed tiredly at his face, murmuring, “I should have insisted on that French tutor instead. The man was seventy-five if he was a day.”

“Or . . . she could have actually toured France,” Sarah said, as a wary look came over her husband’s face.

“Toured France?” he repeated.

“Yes, Ben, Diana Harold telephoned while you were in London. She was most disappointed that Catie wasn’t allowed to join her and Horace on their holiday in the French countryside.” Sarah met his eyes testily. “And I was most disappointed that it was the first I had heard of their invitation.”