Echoes of Pemberley (8 page)

“Oh, Catie, why didn’t you ring for me?” Rose tightened her hold in a motherly fashion, trying to squeeze the pain away and absorb it herself.

“I had it just before I woke up. I guess he’s been on my mind more than usual.” Catie sniffed, and Rose took a handkerchief out of her pocket.

“Here, love, calm yourself whilst I have a tray brought up. Sweet tea will settle your nerves.”

As Rose stepped out of the room, Catie walked over to her window and saw Ben’s black sports car pulling away from the house. She pushed opened the heavy mullioned sash and leaned out, forcing herself not to call out to him.

“Catherine Elizabeth Darcy! Are you trying to kill yourself?!” Rose screeched, and Catie scrambled back inside, bumping her head in the process.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nan!” She pulled the window closed and rubbed her head gingerly. “And if I did die, it would be because you frightened me so that I tumbled out!”

“Well come away from that window or it will be
my
nerves that need settling.”

As they waited, Rose began straightening the bedcovers. Never one to sit idle, she was a woman who needed to be doing something, although never without a fuss. At the moment it was Catie’s cleanliness or lack thereof that had Rose carping under her breath.

“I can go downstairs and have tea in the kitchen, Nan. I’m feeling fine now.” Catie rescued a pile of magazines before Rose swept them into the waste bin.

“You’ll do no such thing . . . ” Rose started but a light knock on the door interrupted her. “Ah, there’s the tray now.”

Catie obediently sipped the tea and ate toast. “Where did Ben go?” she asked.

“London. That’s what I had come to tell you when I found you in the bathroom.”

“Why?”

“Because he asked me to,” Rose said as she came over and eyed the tea and toast. “There’s a good girl. You don’t eat enough which is probably why you’re having bad dreams.” According to Rose, most every illness was brought about from a lack of nourishment, and practically everything could be cured with a healthy dose of castor oil.

“No, why is he going to London?” Catie clarified.

“Business, I assume, Catherine. Isn’t that normally why?”

“I suppose.” Catie sat quietly for a minute. She had hoped to ask Ben about Rosings Park, but Rose was almost as knowledgeable of her family history as her brother was. “Nan, do you remember the story Daddy used to tell me about Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy?”

“I think I remember it. Why?”

“Whatever happened to Lady Catherine, the aunt who lived at Rosings Park?”

Rose gave her a sidelong look as she pulled the curtains fully back, letting a rush of brilliant light pour into the room. Catie had fixed the panel on the window casement where she found Mary’s diary as best she could, but with Rose’s keen eye, she held her breath to see if the woman noticed. Rose, however, seemed more interested in changing the subject. “I can’t say as I know for sure, Catie. You will have to ask your brother.”

Catie sighed. It was the answer she had expected. “Rose.” She hid a grin behind her teacup, suddenly remembering another curious piece from her dream. “Were you in love with my daddy?”

* * *

Since Ben wasn’t to return home until the weekend, Catie would have to wait to discover the meaning behind Mary Darcy’s entry. Rose had rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation at Catie’s last question. Still, she had to wonder whether her youthful insight hadn’t been somewhat correct.

It was approaching three, and Catie was changing into her riding breeches when her telephone rang. Glancing at her clock, she considered not answering it, but thinking it was most likely Audrey Tillman, she decided to make it quick. “Hello.”

“Catie?” said an unfamiliar male voice. “Is this Catie Darcy?”

“Yes, it is.”

“This is Aiden . . . Aiden Hirst. Remember me?” Catie hesitated. “London, last spring, you came to a party at my house in Holland Park.”

“Oh, yes!” She remembered now. The party in Holland Park; the party she had attended after telling Ben she was going to the cinema with Jenna Makepeace. Catie hadn’t deliberately planned the deception. She had honestly believed they were going to the pictures, but Jenna had gotten word of the party and begged Catie to go with her.

Sounding pleased, Aiden continued, “I was ringing to see when you were coming to London this summer. I thought we might see each other.”

“I don’t know if I am, Aiden.” Catie twisted the cord around her fingers. “I...I thought you and Jenna Makepeace were . . . you know . . . ”

“Oh, that’s ancient history. Where have you been?” He laughed.

“Derbyshire . . . where else?” she replied glumly.
Yes, where else for sure
.

“Well, maybe I’ll just come out to the country. My uncle and aunt live in Matlock. Can I . . . ” he paused, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Can I pop ’round to Pemberley if I do? I’d like to see you.”

Catie grimaced, feeling her cheeks color even though she was alone, but she might as well be honest. “Aiden, I couldn’t say.” This was true. She’d never had a boy ask if he could “pop ’round” before. But she knew Bennet Darcy all too well. “My . . . it’s just, my brother. He’s . . . well, he’s sort of a traditionalist. I think you would need to speak to him first. I’m sorry, I know it’s archaic. Please don’t laugh.”

“Not a chuckle,” he said. “My dad grew up in Derbyshire, and I happen to appreciate old-fashioned country manners. If I had a sister, I would be the same way.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he repeated.

“Thanks for saying that.”

“I meant it,” he said sincerely, and she heard his smile.

“Well, I must be off.” She glanced at her clock once more. “I’m late for my riding lesson. Cheers, Aiden.”

“Bye now,” he said and hung up.

“Aiden Hirst,” she whispered to herself, biting the corner of a smiling lip as she returned the receiver. “Hmm.”

Chapter 6

Percival was not a name that fit Clancy’s brother-in-law. The man was taller than Sean and at least six stones heavier. He was a nice enough fellow, just big and a bit simple-minded, according to Clancy.
Percival
was just not a proper name for the man, Sean mused as he came towards him, carrying Sean’s saddle.

“It’s all right, Percival.” Sean met him midway. “I’ll saddle me own horse.”

“Clancy did say as I was to saddle the horses for you and Miss Darcy.” Percival said this as if no other alternative existed.

“Thank you, Percival, but Miss Darcy and I will saddle our own horses.”

“
Miss
Darcy, saddling her own horse?” Percival repeated incredulously, looking at Sean as if he had just requested the honor to dig his own grave.

“Yes,
Miss
Darcy is going to learn to saddle a horse. Caring for your mount is the only way to become well acquainted with it. And the more acquainted she is, the more comfortable she’ll feel.” Sean tried to take the saddle from Percival, but Percival wasn’t letting go.

“Clancy did say . . . ”

“Aye, Percival.” Sean stopped him from repeating himself again and assured, “I understand what Clancy said, and I’ll explain it to him meself.”

“Your hide, mate.” Percival shrugged, let go of the saddle, and walked away.

“Say, Percival,” Sean called.

“Eh?”

“How long have you been working for the Darcys?”

Percival smiled proudly. “’Bout thirty years now; three generations of Darcys I’ve been saddlin’ for, yes sir. Mr. Geoffrey Darcy, Mr. William Darcy, sad thing that, Mr. William was a good man, a finer man you’ll not meet from ’ere to London, an’ now ’is boy, Mr. Ben Darcy. I put lit’l Master Ben on ’is first pony. Lit’l scamp, he was, wouldn’t be led around like a baby, no sir. All afternoon that pony tossed the lad in the dirt, but he just kept gettin’ back up.” Percival laughed. “His daddy and me watched all afternoon whilst boy and horse reached an agreement.”

Sean chuckled reflexively. “Sounds about how me da taught me.”

Percival nodded. “Aye, hard knocks is what makes the man, eh?”

“To hear me da tell it,” Sean agreed. “So you’ve known Miss Catie all her life then?”

“Of course. A favorite of ’er daddy’s that one was. Mr. Darcy would put the lit’l missy in from of ’im on ol’ Abastor and ride all round the estate, and she’d sit tall and dignified like a queen on parade. The spit of ’er ma, she is, and a prettier child you’ll not meet from ’ere to London — a bit of a temper though.” Percival winked and nudged Sean. “What we chaps will put up with for a pretty face, eh, Kelly? Me Connie was a fetching bird in her youth, no doubt, but she’s got a tongue on ’er that would slice cheese.”

Sean’s eyebrows rose. He couldn’t imagine any sister of Clancy’s being attractive. At the moment, however, he was more interested in Catie Darcy’s equine history. “Has Miss Darcy ever been hurt while riding? You know, fallen or been thrown?”

“No.” Shaking his head, Percival lifted his hat and wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve. “Mind though, she’s only ridden with her brother, so I’d ask him to be sure.”

“Thanks, Percival.” Sean clapped the man’s beefy shoulder warmly and went to saddle his horse. “I will.”

Although she rushed as fast as she could, it was a quarter after three before Catie made it to the stables. When she came in, Sean Kelly had his back to her, checking his saddle straps. “You’re late, Miss Catie,” he stated in his deep heavy brogue without turning around.

To his back she scowled but answered pleasantly enough, “Yes, sorry. I’ll hurry and fetch my riding hat.” Two weeks, she reminded herself, two short weeks and her commitment to Ben was satisfied. And in the meantime, she also reminded herself, she had resolved to be only as civil as necessary, and under no bloody circumstance was she going to stare at him like a moon-eyed, immature, fourth former again.
God, being sixteen must be purgatory.

On her return she found him standing beside Chloe, holding her saddle and smiling his big, stupid smile. “Percival is happy to saddle my horse for you, Mr. Kelly,” she told him as she finished working her fingers into her gloves.

“Oh, I’m not saddling your horse, Miss Catie.” He held the saddle out. “You are.”

Catie felt a quick swell of indignation but stamped it down like a minor brush fire. “And why would I do that when Percival can do it for me?” she asked nicely.

His stupid smile grew larger. “Because I told you to. What good is it to improve your riding skills if you can’t even saddle a horse?”

“Ah, then let me assure you: I
can
saddle a horse.”

“Kelly!” Clancy called out brusquely, bringing their debate to a halt. He came quickly towards them with a determined gait that told of his former occupation. “I’ll not have the miss saddlin’ ’er own horse. If it’s not done properly, and she was to get hurt, it’ll be me answering to Mr. Darcy.”

Still holding Catie’s saddle, Sean gave Clancy a shrug. “Watch her then, mate, and inspect the job when she’s finished.”

Sean’s suggestion played quickly over Clancy’s features as he gave a single nod of approval and said, “All right then.” Both men turned to Catie, who stood before them with her arms folded.

Determined to keep the upper hand, she marched forward and snatched the saddle from Sean Kelly’s hands. Eyeing each of them daringly, she stepped over to Chloe and started to work. “Oh, yes, Clancy,
please
supervise me, for that will surely heighten my consequence for Mr. Kelly.” Catie gave the young instructor a fierce glare over her shoulder, sure that his true purpose was to humiliate or punish her for being rude to Clancy yesterday.

“Miss?” Clancy looked as confused as he sounded.

Catie finished fastening the girth and spun around. “To make it simple, Clancy, Mr. Kelly has abandoned his post of riding instructor and has started a new career.” She paused and boldly cast her eyes over to meet Sean’s. “He’s now teaching lessons in etiquette.”

Although he was no longer smiling, Sean Kelly’s eyes seemed to light up in the face of confrontation. “I say, Clancy.” He tried to sound serious, but Catie noted a tinge of amusement in his voice. “Have you ever heard a
girl
blether on as much as this one? I’d wager the instructors at that fine boarding school of hers must have to paste her lips together in order for her to learn anything.”

He was very proud of his last comment. Catie knew it because he stood looking down at her like a gloating peacock. Irish farm lad or not, Sean Kelly did have a rather noble appearance with his aristocratic nose. But it was his gypsy black hair, which lent him a slight air of wickedness, that truly stirred the blood. Clearly he was challenging her, but Catie wasn’t taking the bait. Ignoring him, she finished her task and then stood back for inspection.

When both men were satisfied, Clancy left them without a word, and Sean had no choice but to state the obvious.

“I’m impressed. Where did you learn to saddle a horse?”