Echoes of Pemberley (38 page)

“Yes, Miss Spencer,” Catie answered and waited to be called in.

“Come in, Miss Darcy.” Catie stepped inside the room and, at Miss Spencer’s instruction, closed the door behind her. She was directed to sit, which she did, legs crossed at her ankles and back straight. Miss Spencer had no aversion to correcting inappropriate posture, causing a squirm of straightening backs whenever she appeared. “I am sure that you are aware of the reason I have called for you this morning.”

“Yes, miss,” Catie replied, her tongue so dry her words scraped the roof of her mouth. She cleared her throat.

“I shall start by telling you that Miss Tillman was recovered last evening and is currently in the custody of her father. I cannot begin to tell you how grieved Mr. Tillman was at his daughter’s conduct, which I might add has only been worsened by Miss Tillman’s refusal to reveal the name of her companion. Mr. Tillman, I understand, is a dear friend of your family.”

Audrey’s all right.
Catie gave an inward sigh of relief. “Yes, miss, he is.”

“Then you can understand his desire to know
who
would take his daughter from school without his permission.”

“Yes, miss.” Catie nodded. “But I’m sorry to say that I don’t know his identity either.”

An indignant, unconvinced expression overtook Miss Spencer’s countenance, highlighting her sharp features even more. “Do not mock my intelligence, Miss Darcy,” she said sternly. “I have been equally privy to the rumors that this young man and Miss Tillman became acquainted at Pemberley a little more than a month ago. You are her closest friend, her dorm mate, and I have no doubt her confidante on matters such as this. Perhaps I can persuade you to convey all you know of this affair by telling you that the young man in question treated your friend quite poorly.”

Catie shifted in her seat as her blood started to warm. She was essentially being accused of lying.
“Honor,” her father said, lifting her up to the tall stained glass window in Pemberley’s gallery, allowing her tiny fingers to trace the lead between the brightly colored panes of her family crest. “Being a Darcy is about honor,” he continued. “It’s what has delivered our good name through all these centuries. It is what we have that no one can take from us. It is more valuable than anything in this house. Without honor you have nothing. Whatever you do in life, Catherine Elizabeth, be honorable.”
Catie’s teeth connected in an uncomfortable grind as she composed her words carefully. “Miss Spencer, please know that I wasn’t brought up to mock the intelligence of a respectable woman like yourself. Yes, Audrey and I are the closest of friends, but she did not share with me any more than I have already told you. I am not covering for Audrey nor do I condone her actions last evening. If you doubt the truthfulness of what I’m saying, then I will beg you call my brother. He, better than anyone, can speak on my behalf.”

Miss Spencer’s eyes narrowed in contemplation, but she had no intention of tangling with Bennet Darcy. A highly respected man, it was a credit that Ben Darcy entrusted Davenport with his sister’s care and education. The late Margaret Darcy was a graduate of Davenport and served on the school’s governing body until she passed away. In addition, a great many of the school’s alumni and contributors were close friends of the Darcys. No, questioning Catherine Darcy’s honesty without foundation was plainly not an option. It probably would bring a darker cloud over Davenport than Audrey Tillman’s little escapade could ever do.

Clearly
, Miss Spencer thought resentfully,
young Miss Darcy understands her family’s elevated position and is taking full advantage of it
. This did not please the headmistress, but she most certainly understood. Playing the centuries-old game of, “The One with the Most Money Wins,”
was part of obtaining and keeping a position like Headmistress of Davenport. Left with no real alternative, she coolly thanked Catie for her cooperation and excused her to the dining hall for breakfast.

Later that morning, after church, Catie walked alone back to the dormitory. She didn’t want company, didn’t want to talk to anyone. When she opened the door to her room, Audrey’s things were gone, her bed and desk as bare as the day they moved in. Expelled, Catie thought as she closed the door behind her. Audrey wasn’t coming back to school.

* * *

On Friday afternoon Ben Darcy drove his black sports car among the stone walls and hedgerows of England’s countryside, ignoring posted speed limits. The car always gave him a sense of invincibility. The 1977 Porsche Carrera was a gift from his father on his twenty-first birthday. That was ten years ago now, but he couldn’t part with it and probably never would.

“She needs to come home this weekend,” Sarah had said to him a few nights ago. “She sounds terribly downcast.” Ben knew Audrey’s expulsion had taken its toll on Catie. He felt sorry for Donald Tillman.
Thank God his sister had never been so imprudent.
Not that Catie was immune to the charms of such a man . . . any young girl might be. His jaw tightened at the thought of it. Girls their age were inexperienced and vulnerable. He had seen it enough in his younger days. Most men were gentleman, but some most certainly were not.

He settled his sister in the car and tossed her bag in the boot. She could have taken the train, but Ben usually preferred to drive her. The hour-long trip back and forth gave them a chance to be alone. Sometimes they rode in silence with only the hum of the engine between them, and sometimes she talked all the way home. Today she hadn’t uttered a word, just stared silently out of the rain spattered window, leaving Ben with only the dragging wiper blades as company.

“They’re sheep, Catie.” Ben’s voice jarred her from her thoughts.

“What?” Her head turned to him, her eyes as blurry as the window.

“Sheep . . . you’ve been looking at sheep for half an hour.”

“They look sad.”

“It’s raining, Catie, everything looks sad. Do you want to stop? Have a drink?”

“No, I just want to go home.”

When they arrived at Pemberley, Catie ran to see Sarah. It had been a month since she last laid eyes on her, and she was anxious to inspect Sarah’s expanding girth. As Ben watched them hug, a smile creased his mouth. And when Catie cupped Sarah’s round belly and spoke in a sweet singing voice to the future member of the family, he laughed softly, glad she was home.

“Has she kicked yet?” she asked, ear pressed against the bulge.

“She?” Ben repeated. “That’s not a she.”

“And how do you know, Bennet?” Catie asked.

Shaking her head, Sarah explained, “Your brother has forbidden me to have a daughter.”

The two fell into hysterics at the stupidity of such a ridiculous demand.

“Why would you forbid Sarah a daughter, Ben? Just think — she might be like me. Would that not be grand?”

Sarah laughed even harder at the look of alarm that crossed her husband’s face. “Yes, Bennet,” she asked, her eyes bright with her laughter. “Wouldn’t that be grand?”

The following evening the Darcys were invited to Ardsley Manor for dinner, an invitation they felt imposed by social grace to accept. As Ben drove, Catie rode quietly in the backseat, unable to force Audrey from her thoughts. “That
dreadful
boy,” Sarah had hissed angrily when they were finally alone and able to talk freely. “He took Audrey to a shabby roadside inn and, after having his
expectations
of the evening met, put her out almost a mile from the school. Poor girl was discovered walking back on the road to Davenport in a drizzle of rain, cold and soaked.” Sarah shook her head sorrowfully and repeated, “Poor girl.”

Catie shuddered as if cold and soaked herself, and gazed out at the horizon which had gone black, giving her nothing but her own reflection to stare at. Sarah had assured her that according to Mr. Tillman, Audrey was all right, if a tad dispirited. Next term she would be attending a school in Northern England, and Catie could write to her in a few weeks.

Catie was so lost in her distraction that their arrival at the gates of Ardsley went unnoticed. Sarah’s voice startled her. “Catie! Goodness, dear, where were you?”

Catie shrugged. “Daydreaming I guess.” She smiled faintly and got out of the car.

Ardsley Manor wasn’t as grand as Pemberley, but Catie appreciated its more intimate and welcoming size. As they climbed the steps to the entrance, the door was opened and Lawrence and Eleanor Hirst stood ready to greet them. “Halloo, Darcys!” Mr. Hirst welcomed boisterously. His thick, black eyebrows were groomed to a fine point and bobbed with excitement. “Welcome, welcome.”

Aiden appeared as soon as they were in the hall, smiling cockily. She despised his pretentiousness. Sean Kelly was a proud man to be sure . . . but never pretentious.

“Hello, Cate, allow me.” Aiden removed her coat. “I told you I would see you soon. Sorry to hear about Audrey Tillman though,” he whispered from behind her.

Catie’s head turned abruptly to him. “How — ” she started but stopped. Aiden had friends at Davenport; of course he would know. “So you assumed I would be home this weekend?”

He nodded. “Hence the sudden invitation. My uncle and aunt were thrilled with the idea. They like you very much, Cate . . . as do I.” Aiden winked and offered her his hand. “Now, let’s get through dinner with the old folks, and then maybe we’ll have a few minutes to ourselves.”

The meal was long, and the conversation had Catie counting window panes to pass the time. The subject of tennis alone occupied the whole of the second course. Naturally, Aiden played the game and played well. It seemed that Aiden did everything well, according to his uncle. Politics came next. Mr. Hirst knew he and Ben shared political views. Sarah, however, did not. Her Labour party had recently suffered its third consecutive loss in the general election, but she politely endured, only challenging occasionally as Ben patted her hand under the table. Mr. Hirst wasn’t trying to be impolite or insensitive; he was just rather old school. Born in the thirties, he still assumed the wife supported the political affiliations of the husband.

By dessert, everyone was equally suffering from the discomforts of having sat too long, and it was unanimously decided to adjourn to the drawing room. Seeing his opportunity, Aiden whispered into Catie’s ear, “Would you like to get some fresh air instead?”

Glad for an escape from the dull conversation, she nodded eagerly in return.

“I’d like to show Cate more of the house if that’s all right,” Aiden said to the group, but his eyes rested on Bennet Darcy.

“Fine, just don’t wander too far,” Ben answered, glancing at his sister. “We must be leaving for home shortly. The twins have been promised a tuck-in by their mother.”

“Yes, Brother,” Catie replied softly.

“You’ve done a fine job with her, Bennet,” Lawrence Hirst said to Ben as soon as the young couple left the dining room. “Your father and mother would be proud. Aiden tells me that Councilman Tillman has had some difficulties with his Audrey. A shame that. I understand the girl was a talented violinist.”

“She still
is
a talented violinist, Lawrence,” Sarah countered.

“That may be, Sarah,” Eleanor said. “But I understand Donald had aspirations of Newnham, and I daresay an expulsion from Davenport will not bode well.”

“Had much sport this season, Hirst?” Ben tactfully redirected the conversation.

“Not one grouse yet this year but I did . . . ” Lawrence began a detailed rundown as Ben gave his wife’s thankful expression a discreet smile.

* * *

The large hall was markedly cooler than the dining room, but Catie warmed as they climbed the carpeted steps to the upper floors.

“The ballroom is over there.” Aiden pointed across the landing. “But there’s a nice view of Matlock from the terrace.” He pulled open the large French doors to the crisp October night.

“Ooh,” Catie said softly, hugging herself. “It’s brisk, eh?”

“Oh, right.” Aiden quickly removed his dinner jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thank you.” She accepted the offering. “But I wasn’t being a flirt.”

“You never are.” He raised his brows at her. “Not that I would mind the encouragement.”

“Do you visit your aunt and uncle often?” Catie inquired, leaning over the cold balustrade, not so subtly changing the subject.

He chuckled, not seeming offended. “Yes, as often as I can. They are like a second set of parents to me. You can’t imagine the nuisance of having two mothers coddling and fussing over you.”

Catie glanced away from the remark. “No, I suppose not.”

“God, Cate, that was horribly insensitive of me.” Aiden reached out and turned her to face him. “It must be awful not having your mum.”

She politely stepped out of his hold. “There’s no need to pity me, Aiden. I may not have been fortunate enough to enjoy the attentions of my own good mother, but I’ve had Sarah for the last eight years and my Nan for the whole of my life.”

“Nan?”

“Yes . . . Rose, Pemberley’s housekeeper. When my mother died, my father turned my care over to her. She’s like family to us.”