The Heart Does Whisper (Echoes of Pemberley Book 2)

by Cynthia Ingram Hensley

  Catie’s mouth twitched in consideration, but eventually she gave a single, reluctant nod.

  “There’s a good lass.” He tweaked her nose playfully and then wrapped her in his arms. “And see that you’re home early. I’ve a grand surprise for you later.”

  “What sort of surprise?”

  Sean flashed down at her his signature wicked smile. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”

  She leaned back and eyed him seductively from head to toe. “Will it involve you wearing this getup?”

  “Oh, what’s this?” he quizzed reproachfully. “I thought you hated country sport.”

  “That depends on what sort of country sport you’re referring to.” Catie ran her hands inside the luxuriously warm hunt coat and slowly drew her nails down the sides of the snuggly fitting waistcoat.

  The act made Sean take in a sharp breath, which he exhaled fiercely. He glanced about the kitchen and lowered his voice to a sinister tone. “You wee vixen. When you and I decided to wait till our wedding night, you never mentioned that you were going to be an unmerciful tease.” His admonishment met with a muffled giggle and further exploration inside his coat. “All right! Enough!” He stepped away from her and buttoned the ornamental brass buttons with a strained air of composure.

  Catie watched him with lip-biting interest and a glimmer of amusement in her eye. Once finished, Sean leaned over, gave her a platonic peck on the cheek, and walked away, tugging rather inelegantly at his borrowed buckskin breeches.

  She cupped her hand over her mouth and laughed.

  ***

  “Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God,” Sean recited silently from Matthew, wondering if he received any Divine merits for trying. Certainly, God knew what he was up against. Bloody-minded Darcys. He stole a look around the room. Other than the popping and hissing of the blazing fire, everyone was dead silent. No one dared look at the evening edition of The Telegraph, Ashridge’s local newspaper, which lay in the center of the drawing room’s round coffee table with its bold-type headline: “Darcy Siblings Rival over Boxing Day Foxhunt.” If the front-page caption weren’t enough public humiliation for the family, the photo of an irate Bennet Darcy breaking his sister’s placard over his knee sealed it.

  Sean glanced at Sarah. Not for the first time were they arbitrary mediators in a battle of Darcy wills. He had grown to accept, even somewhat appreciate, the eccentric, pertinacious siblings. But at the moment, he was furious with Catie. Not for standing up for what she believed in, not even for her drive and fearlessness in whatever undertaking she thought worthy of her attention—those were the qualities he loved about her, respected even. He was angry because she’d paid him no heed, and as a result, the day had taken a sharp detour from what he had intended. He looked at her, straight-backed and ready for combat—beautiful. God, he loved her, but right then, he just wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled.

  His mind wandered back to the white envelope and blue velvet box in his room. He might have asked her by now. She might have already accepted him; she might already be wearing his ring.

  “The Times is on the telephone,” Rose appeared at the doorway and announced. “They want to know if Pemberley would like to make a statement.”

  “The Times?” Ben asked, turning from the large, crackling fire. “The London Times?”

  Rose nodded.

  “How the devil did London hear about this already?”

  “News travels fast, but gossip invariably travels faster. What shall I tell them? They’ll print the story either way.”

  Ben gave his sister a pointed look. “Tell them no one at Pemberley will be speaking to the Times or any other bloody newspaper.”

  “That’s political repression,” Catie declared, meeting her brother’s eyes. “As was destroying my placard.”

  “Catie,” Sean hissed reproachfully.

  “Call it what you wish, Catherine,” Ben argued back, standing over her, nostrils flaring and looking menacing to no great effect, for his sister did not flinch. “But as long as I’m breathing air, no Darcy is going to protest this house or speak against it to the press. Our ancestors would turn in their graves to know Pemberley was at the center of such scandal!”

  Impassioned, Catie came to her feet. “Do you mean the ancestors who would turn in their graves if they knew your wife voted or wore trousers? A hundred years from now, your descendants will think you were barbaric for foxhunting!”

  “Foxhunting is a tradition—part of our culture. You can’t compare that to women’s suffrage.”

  “I happen to think you can compare it. Shouldn’t animals have rights?”

  Ben smiled cleverly at that. “Should they? I sure didn’t see you and your friends marching with your placards when that fox stole a newly born lamb from Lew Chapman’s nursery last spring. They’re bloody pests, Catherine—vermin.”

  “Who cares about the damn foxes?” Sean stood up and butted in, making both Ben and Catie turn to him. He took Catie by the shoulders and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “This isn’t how I’d imagined it.”

  “How you imagined what?” she asked.

  Sean turned to Ben, but the words he had so meticulously rehearsed were no longer there. “Just forget it!” he exclaimed, looking disgusted. “Just forget the whole bloody thing!” He glanced at Catie once more before storming out of the drawing room.

  “Sean!” Catie called after him, but he was gone. “See what you’ve done!” She turned back to her brother, accusing.

  “What I’ve done?”

  “What you’ve both done,” Sarah said, her brows knitted and perturbed. Ben and Catie glanced at each other then down to the floor like scolded children. “You have both behaved horribly pompous and self-serving. If you were children, I’d see you properly punished, but you’re not. I’m perfectly ashamed of you…both of you.” Giving them both a stony look, Sarah sat down and said nothing further. She didn’t need to.

  Ben and Catie gave each other another brief glance, each feeling the sting of Sarah’s speech. In the fewest of words, Sarah Darcy could say more than most could impress upon a person in an hour-long lecture. There was a lengthy silence until Catie folded her arms and left the room.

  Ben fell onto the sofa, exhaling and rubbing his face. He cut his eyes warily at his wife. “I realize that I shouldn’t have broken Catie’s placard.”

  “As usual, Mr. Darcy, your hindsight is a perfect twenty-twenty,” was his wife’s reply.

  “My faults are many, Mrs. Darcy. Thank you for always being prompt in bringing them to my attention.”

  She smiled faintly at that. “You’re welcome.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but Rose came to the doorway again. “What now, Rose?” he asked. “If it’s another damned newspaper, just put the bloody phone off—”

  “It’s not another newspaper,” she interrupted him. “There’s something you and Sarah need to know about Sean.”

  “About Sean?” Sarah asked, and Rose nodded.

  An hour later, Ben found Sean’s rattletrap Land Rover exactly where he expected—parked outside the Green Man Inn and Pub. The old Rover was symbolic of the man’s principles. Sean would never spend a hard-earned penny replacing something that still worked. And what bit of quid he would part with was put toward furthering his education or visiting his sweetheart hundreds of miles from home. Ben sighed and smiled at the same time. He did respect Sean Kelly but had no intention on telling the lad. In Bennet Darcy’s opinion, no self-respecting brother would put a future brother-in-law at ease before the wedding.

  The bar was nearly empty. It was rather late and too cold for most of Ashridge’s residents to be out and about. Thank heavens. He really didn’t want to answer a thousand questions about the day’s events. There were more pressing matters that needed resolving. He saw Sean sitting alone at the bar, nursing a pint of stout.

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” Ben t
old Bobby, the Green Man’s bartender, making Sean abruptly look up.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he said then returned his attention to his mug.

  “Yes, it’s me.” Ben sat down next to him and waited for his beer.

  Bobby returned shortly. “Anything else, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Yeah, keep ’em coming, eh, Bobby? We might be here awhile.” Bobby glanced at Sean, nodded, and went back to drying glasses. Ben took a generous swallow and exhaled slowly, giving Sean a sidelong glance. “My sister and I can be complex at times.”

  “Hmph,” Sean grunted and drank down the last of the dark liquid.

  Ben gestured for Bobby to refill Sean’s glass and then continued, “You might be glad to know that Sarah took us both to task after you left.” Sean made no comment to this, so Ben went on, “She gave us a fair lashing with the sharp side of her tongue, which we rightfully deserved, but she didn’t storm out. And she never would.”

  Sean looked at him. “I — ” he started, but Ben cut him off.

  “Let me finish, Kelly. We Darcys are a devil of a lot to live with. Sarah can vouch for that. But if a man makes a commitment, he must stand by it.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sean said.

  Ben sighed, resigned with a tinge of sadness and drank down another healthy gulp. “If you’re going to marry my little sister, Kelly, you can’t just run out on her, no matter how bloody headstrong or unreasonable she is.”

  “How?” Sean sat bolt upright, but realization came quickly. “Aunt Rose?”

  “Yes. Not that the news came as a surprise. I know my sister’s heart, and I’ve been wise to your feelings for her for some time now.”

  “So…er…” Sean stammered. “Does this mean you’re giving me your blessing?”

  “The hell I am!” Ben declared. “You haven’t asked for it.”

  Sean blinked and swallowed. “Will you give me…us your blessing?”

  Ben shook his head. “No. Not until you make me three promises.”

  “And they are?”

  “Catie must finish her education after this little sabbatical of yours is over with.”

  “It’s a bit more than a sabbatical,” Sean replied sharply. “It’s an opportunity to gain administrative experience and put my graduate’s degree to work.”

  “And I’m glad for you, but my sister’s education is my priority.”

  “Catie’s education is just as important to me as it is to you.”

  “Good answer.” Ben nodded. “I’m not thrilled about her being abroad for a year, but seeing more of the world may temper her passions somewhat.”

  “Or, seeing more of the world may not change her convictions at all.”

  “Perhaps not, but at least those convictions will stem from real-life experience. I’ve fallen short in providing for her on that front, I’m ashamed to admit. A bit of adventure will be good for her I think.”

  “What else?” Sean asked.

  Ben looked Sean directly in the eye. “You’re a proud man, Sean. I can appreciate that. However, you mustn’t allow my sister’s money to affect your marriage. You must never hold it against her. It’s easy for a man to marry a woman of less means but much more difficult for a woman.”

  Sean considered Ben’s words for several seconds. From the beginning, Catie’s wealth had been a sore spot. Still, he loved her, and there was no help for it. “Catie shall have what’s rightfully hers. I would never begrudge her that.”

  “I’ll see you stand by those words,” Ben vowed, his expression granite.

  Sean breathed in and let out an uneasy breath. “What’s the third?”

  Ben’s expression instantly softened, and he turned back to his beer. Twisting the glass in his hand, he whispered, “Take care of her, Sean. She might make me angry enough to break things but…but my little sister means the world to me.”

  Chapter 2

  Staring up at his new wife, Sean smiled and whispered, “I’m really glad you said yes.”

  “How could I say no?” Catie nestled closer to his warm body, giggling softly. “You were so nervous; you wobbled when you knelt to ask me. I felt terribly sorry for you.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t nervous, lass,” he replied cockily. “I was thoroughly pickled that morning. Didn’t you know?”

  “Pickled?” She sat back up. “You mean you were drunk!”

  “Aye.” He moved to pull her back down to him, but she drew away and out of his reach. “Come here!” he demanded playfully, grabbing her wrists and wrestling her beneath him.

  In futile protest, Catie squirmed and struggled to free herself, but he shifted his weight and effortlessly pinned her to the bed. “Barbarian!” she hissed, glowering at him but grudgingly surrendered and lay still.

  Her defiant submission excited him—so much so that his voice came as a coarse rasp in her ear. “Your brother and I closed down the Green Man only hours before I came to propose to you, bhean chèile, so, aye, I was drunk. But I knew what I was doing; I’d carefully planned it for heaven’s sake. I wanted you that morning more than I wanted the damn sun to rise…as I want you now.”

  “Ban kay…what?” she asked, unable to properly mimic his Irish.

  “Bhean chèile,” he repeated. “Wife. Mo bhean chèile, my wife.” He leaned down and kissed her mouth, forceful and eager, but his young bride did not yield to him.

  “Were you pickled last night?” she asked in a soft voice, turning her face from his.

  “Maybe…a wee bit,” he admitted. “God, Catie, you don’t think me a drunkard, I hope. I hardly ever have more than a few pints.”

  “No.” She looked back at him now with an injured gaze that made his gut tighten with shame.

  “Did I…did I hurt you last night, lass?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You were gentle. It was nice.”

  He drew back as if she’d slapped him. “Nice!”

  “Okay. Very nice,” she amended.

  Sean stared down at her. He hadn’t been able to help himself the night before. He’d waited four long years to have this woman, and his patience had paid the price. He remembered collapsing and rolling off her. Then, in a vague sleepy grayness, he remembered thinking he must recover himself and return to her. But he had not.

  “Your family will leave soon,” she said tenderly, smiling now. “We should go down and spend this time with them.”

  No longer feeling cocky, Sean sighed heavily as he watched her slide out of bed and put on her dressing gown.

  ***

  “Goodbye, Mr. Kelly.” Catie affectionately hugged her new father-in-law. She loved the man dearly and he her. Their mutual fondness happened naturally and early on in their acquaintance; he reminded her of the father she so painfully missed, and she quickly became the daughter he never had.

  “You’re our daughter now, Catherine.” Seamus Kelly clutched her tightly in his arms. “You must call us Mam and Da, unless you think your parents would have disapproved.”

  Catie smiled up at him. “I think they would have been pleased.”

  “It’s settled then,” he said then glanced over at his eldest son, who was soothing his tearful mother. A year was a long time for a young couple to be alone without elders to guide their new union. “He’ll make you a good husband, lass, or he’ll feel my displeasure.”

  Although the threat wasn’t an idle one, Catie played it off with a pretty half-smile. “We’ll be fine, Da.”

  “Aye, you will. I’ve no doubt.” He instinctively reflected the smile as he kissed her cheek then lifted his chin to beckon his son. “Seany, a word, me boy.”

  In a flurry of slamming car doors, shouts, and tears, the Kelly clan caravanned off for the ferry. Sean and Catie stood on the steps of Pemberley and waved until the last car had turned the bend in the drive. “I’m going to dreadfully miss them,” Catie said with a sigh.

  “It’s only a year, love.” Sean put his arm around her, and she nestled against him, glad for his sureness, for she hadn’t any. Leavi
ng England was more than a little frightening to Catie, but Sean was adamant. They were going. She wanted to be a strong wife like Sarah, and so she vowed he would never know her reservations or suffer her complaints.

  When they entered the house, Ben greeted them enthusiastically, waving their airline tickets above his head. “No need to thank me. It was easily done.”

  “What was easily done?” Sean asked.

  “I rang my man in London and had you both upgraded to first-class. I shan’t tolerate my sister enduring coach for a transatlantic flight.” Ben winked at Catie then clapped Sean on the shoulder. “Now, come through and have lunch. You’ve a long train journey this afternoon, and old Johnson’s whipped up beans and sausages in your honor.”

  Although Ben took no notice, Catie saw a flicker of annoyance in Sean’s face. Those tickets had been a gift from the students of Norbury. A bizarre was held, cakes were baked, and pictures of the event sent to Sean. He had proudly shown them to her.

  “He didn’t know,” she whispered apologetically as her brother walked off.

  Sean exhaled a frustrated breath and looked at her, his annoyance now more than a flicker. “How shall I explain this to Dr. Middleton? Yes, sir, of course I appreciate the students’ hard work raising money for my aeroplane tickets, but my brother-in-law shan’t tolerate his sister enduring coach.” The latter Sean said in perfect imitation of Ben’s posh British accent.

  “Oh, for goodness sake, Sean, Dr. Middleton won’t know where we sit.”

  “Maybe not, but why must your brother always intervene?”

  “He means well.”

  “Right,” he said, looking and sounding unconvinced.

  “Is something else bothering you?”

  “Well, yes, now that you mention it. Why is it that beans and sausages are always served in my honor? I mean, I fancy beans and sausages fine but—”

  “Did you not see how excited he was?” she said. “It’s Ben that fancies beans and sausages, but Sarah rarely indulges him. So, he’s convinced her that beans and sausages are your favorite dish.”