The Heart Does Whisper (Echoes of Pemberley Book 2)

by Cynthia Ingram Hensley

  “Yes, sir.” Sean went to his desk and packed up the leather attaché case Catie bought him for his birthday. On his way out, he stopped. “Dr. Middleton, there was one child in particular I wanted to speak with you about. You see—“

  “The question and the child can wait.” Dr. Middleton patted Sean’s shoulder father-like then added in a more serious tone, “Sean, you came here to learn, and I’d be amiss if I didn’t teach you this: Leave the kids at school, son. They have no place at home. That’s your time, Catie’s time—not theirs.”

  Thus chastened, Sean dutifully acquiesced, “I’m sure that’s good advice, sir.”

  “It is, and be sure you heed it,” Dr. Middleton stated. “Now go home.”

  “Yes, sir—tomorrow then.” Sean nodded his goodbye and left.

  Despite Dr. Middleton’s counsel, the pictures stapled inside the files stayed with Sean as he drove. Often during his and Catie’s courtship, they had spoken of having children, quiet whispers between sweethearts about their future family. Those conversations always stirred in Sean a masculine pride of providing for and protecting these unknown persons—his children. He wondered, did Toby Patterson’s father ever— “Leave them at school, Seany!” he admonished himself aloud as he parked the Jeep on the street outside the hotel.

  The elevator could not have been frustratingly slower. All Sean wanted was to wrap his wife in his arms and kiss her. Coming home to Catie, he thought as the doors finally pulled sluggishly open, would certainly make leaving work at work easier.

  “Where’s me darlin’ girl?” he called out as soon as he unlocked the door. Catie came out of the bathroom, and they kissed hello in the small entryway of the hotel room.

  “How was your day?” she pulled back and asked.

  “You know…another tour of the campus, meeting the staff, the usual bit. How ’bout your day?” He took her by the shoulders and turned her for inspection. “I don’t see any scratch marks. I reckon that means you girls got on all right.”

  She slapped his arm for the uncharitable remark. “We got on fine, thank you. So well in fact, I found us a place to live.”

  “Really?” He sounded relieved. “Well then, let’s go have a look, so I can give my stamp of approval. I’m damn tired of this hotel.”

  Brutally honest, Catie thought as she gazed into her husband’s cheerful beam. But then again, she reasoned, shouldn’t the man have his dinner first? “All right,” she said with forced enthusiasm. “But let us eat first. I’m starving!”

  A cold shiver of dread shot through Catie when Sean made the last turn onto Monterey Square. She’d meant to explain her rationale for the not so humble abode over dinner but had lost her courage when Sean toasted their new home and his internship with such happiness his bright blue eyes fairly danced. She had procrastinated and now feared that he would take her silence as purposeful deceit.

  “Catie,” she heard him say and looked at him. She could see his loving, unsuspicious smile in the dim light cast by the streetlamp and guiltily turned away. “You went off for a bit. Are you all right, lass?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, staring at her hands rather than him.

  “So this is it.” He ducked his head to better see out the window. “Shall we get out and take a look ’round?”

  She nodded, biting nervously on her bottom lip.

  “It’s very nice,” Sean said as they stood together on the sidewalk. “I love the square and the trees. So, which floor is our flat on?” He gazed so sweetly down at her that a flash of regret blazed in her chest, but there was no turning back now.

  “Shall we go inside?” she suggested, brandishing a small shiny object from her pocket. “I have the key.”

  Sean looked puzzled. “Then why didn’t you say? I swear, Catie Kelly, you are being rather mysterious.”

  Avoiding the comment, Catie turned and hurried up the steps with Sean following close behind. She unlocked the door and left him standing in the entryway as she went around and switched on lights as she had seen Delia do earlier that afternoon, instantly illuminating the stately home and its fine furnishings in lamplight.

  “Catie,” he said questioningly, blinking to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness. “Is the entire townhouse for let?”

  “Not the entire townhouse, no. The garden flat is leased and the carriage house can be sublet to offset the rent.”

  “But, even still, this can’t be in our budget.”

  “No, Sean, no it’s not.” There, it was done, brutal honesty. Now on to weather the storm and hackles, a prospect that made her swallow hard.

  Momentarily speechless, Sean looked around in bewilderment, but Catie could see the realization of what she had said dawning in his expression

  “You didn’t do as I said, did you?” He turned a hard blue gaze on her. There was none of the usual playful dance in his eyes or lilt of tease in his voice, and Catie’s bravado wilted under the intensity of his stare.

  “As you said?” she repeated, trying to sound indignant, but her voice lacked the confidence she would’ve liked.

  “That’s right,” he affirmed. “You heard me proper.”

  Honesty seemed now more of a copout than a course of action, but it was all she had. She took a deep breath. “Sean, it is equally important for me to contribute to our living expenses as it is for you. And furthermore that budget was ridiculous.”

  “And this!” He threw his hands out dramatically and twirled once around. “This is not ridiculous?”

  “I’ll admit, it’s a bit grand for our needs but—”

  “A bit grand?” He actually laughed then but not at all amused. “My parents reared five boys in less than half this space.”

  A brief silence fell between them, but it was enough time for Sean to make up his mind. He went to the door, opened it, and half-turned to his wife. “You will ring Miss Delia Reynolds tomorrow, and tell her we can’t afford this place and find something more suitable.”

  Catie shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t?”

  Her heart now beating a rhythmic tattoo in her chest, Catie looked him square in the eyes and said, “I’ve already signed the papers and put down a rather large deposit. It would be quite costly for us to get out of the contract now.”

  The door slammed so hard Catie jumped. Furious, Sean began to pace back in forth in an angry march, and she wisely left him to expend his temper. “How am I to be the husband, the head of this family, with so little respect from me own wife?” he yelled, not really speaking to anyone, but she retorted nonetheless.

  “That’s not a fair statement, Sean, and a rather prehistoric one, I might add.”

  His eyebrows shot up at that. “Call it what you like, but where I come from, the man is still head of the home!”

  It occurred to Catie to point out that a rural farming village in County Down, Northern Ireland probably wasn’t, in all likelihood, a fair representation of the rest of the world but decided against it. “Why do you keep pacing like that?” she asked instead.

  He stopped then and looked at her. “To keep from wringing your neck,” he replied without humor. “I’d break something but I’m fair certain I couldn’t afford to replace it.”

  “Ah.” She gestured for him to recommence. “Then please, carry on.”

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes, but when Sean did glance over at his wife, he saw that she had turned away from him with her arms wrapped tightly about her. Unexpectedly, the image of Toby Patterson rocking and hugging himself came to him. Sean roughly ran a hand through his black hair and sighed heavily. He didn’t know how to settle this, but anger and yelling wasn’t the way. “Come here,” he said to her, the edge leaving his voice.

  “Why?”

  “Because, silly, I want to hold you. I’d be a buck eejit to strangle you so soon after the vicar gave me leave to bed ye. Now wouldn’t I?”

  She smiled at that but felt like weeping when he pulled her
tight against his chest and stroked a hand lightly over her hair. They held each other for some time, neither sure how to proceed.

  “Catie,” Sean finally said, breaking the pleasant, if temporary, peace. “You mustn’t — ”

  “I know,” she cut him off. “I mustn’t make major decisions without consulting you first.”

  “We, neither of us can,” he amended. “We’re married now.”

  She lowered her eyes, shamefaced. What she’d tired to disguise as brutal honesty now seemed nothing short of marital treason. “I’m sorry. I just got so caught up. This place…it smelled like home. Signing that contract was deceitful and unforgivable.”

  “Deceitful maybe but not unforgivable.” He kissed her head affectionately.

  Tears now pricking her lashes, she dabbed at her eyes and asked, “So, what do we do now?”

  “Damned if I don’t know.” Sighing, Sean glanced about once more. Arranging his thoughts, she supposed. “You say the carriage house can be sublet?”

  “Yes,” Catie replied eagerly. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she kept it in check, still unsure where she stood. “And if you add the rent from the carriage house to the money you budgeted, then I’ll only be contributing—”

  “Don’t tell me!” He threw a hand up and stopped her. “Please, lass, let’s keep the lightning strikes to a minimum, one a day for now, aye?”

  “Aye,” said his wife contritely and waited a few more patient minutes while he reconciled the inevitable. “So,” she said cautiously, “shall we go back to the hotel and get our things?”

  Chapter 6

  Jolted from sleep by the piercing, repetitive buzz of his alarm clock, Sean shot up and fumbled clumsily with the device until it mercifully fell silent. He yawned greatly as he scratched his morning stubble and looked down at his sleeping wife, amazed at how soundly she slept.

  Catie was settled deep in the bed’s luxurious linens much like she’d settled into their luxurious residence—like a misplaced turtle who’d found its shell. He saw immediately that she felt at home and was at least pleased that the sorrow of missing England had almost gone from her eyes. In retrospect, Sean figured that living in the townhouse for the year was the least he could do. After all, she had come all the way across the ocean for him, and certainly she would need some time to adjust to her life away from Pemberley. Propped on his elbow, he gazed at her—peaceful as an angel in the dazzling early sunlight that dappled through the trees and spilled into their bedroom window. He almost hated waking her up…almost.

  “Catie,” he whispered, then louder, “Catie!”

  “What?” She blinked open her eyes.

  “Fancy breakfast?” he asked.

  “No thanks, I’m not hungry,” she sleepily replied, turning away from him.

  “But I am. Be a dear and kindly make breakfast, eh? I can’t stomach another sweet cake or roll or whatever the bloody hell they call it here.” He brushed her fair locks to the side and kissed her neck. “God, you smell good.”

  Unsure she heard him correctly, Catie flipped over to face him, eyes wide. “You want me to make breakfast?”

  “Aye, why not?”

  “Sean, I don’t know how to cook!”

  “It’s eggs and bacon.” He tapped her nose affectionately then got up, cruelly taking the covers with him lest she fall back asleep. “It’s simple.”

  Appalled by his request, she sat up as he disappeared into the bathroom and asked, “Do we even have eggs and bacon?”

  He stuck his head back out. “Amazingly enough, that’s what was in the sacks I brought home last night. Now up and fill your boots, woman! You’ve got Prissy Middleton’s tea today as well!”

  She flopped back to the mattress. “Insufferable ass!”

  “I heard that!”

  “Good!” she snapped back but grudgingly edged off the bed.

  From the beginning, Sean saw only her—Catherine Elizabeth Darcy—not an heiress or an orphan. He didn’t admire her family’s wealth and never once pitied her circumstances. Instead, Sean ignited in her a passion she didn’t know existed and challenged her as no one else dared. Strange as it may sound, it was for this reason that she had first fallen in love with him.

  Standing in the kitchen, Catie began questioning her wisdom in choosing such a man. “Simple? Cooking…simple?” She glanced at the telephone and considered ringing Rose but wasn’t in the mood for the enjoyment the woman would have at her expense. Toast, she thought suddenly; she knew how to make toast.

  Catie put two slices of bread in the toaster and opened the fridge. Inside were the meager offerings of butter and low-fat milk, the eggs and bacon Sean had purchased the night before, and a lonely, orange box of Arm and Hammer baking soda. “Simple!” she chirped with budding confidence as she reached for the carton of eggs.

  Thirty minutes later, Sean came quickly down the steps and rounded the ornately carved newel post. That’s where he drew up short—stopped by the smell. Sniffing delicately, he proceeded apprehensively.

  “Good morning, darling.” Catie, now bright as day, came over and kissed him when he entered. “Your breakfast is on the table. Sit and I’ll pour your coffee.”

  Sean sat down, nervously eyeing what he assumed to be eggs. The burnt toast, at least, was recognizable. With his fork, he hesitantly poked at the brownish, gruel-like substance as she set down his coffee. “Thanks.” He forced an appreciative smile up at her, hoping it looked sincere.

  “Well…eat,” she urged anxiously.

  Sean took a tentative bite and immediately spit it back out. “What did you put in the eggs?” he asked, wiping his mouth

  “Just salt.”

  “And a bit too much of it I’d say.” Grimacing, he took a generous gulp of coffee to clean his mouth, but that spewed out as well.

  “What’s wrong with the coffee?” she cried. “I followed the directions exactly.”

  He smelled the cup’s contents and then looked at her strangely. “I can’t say that I know.”

  “Oh, it’s hopeless!” Catie said miserably, slumping down on the chair next to him. “We shall starve, I guess.”

  “There now, chin up, lass.” He chucked her consolingly. “There’s a deli ’round the corner.”

  She glared at him. “Tell you what…you’re so bloody clever, you cook from now on!”

  “Tell you what,” he said, a hint of truce in his tone. “We shall learn together—fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” she sighed, cautiously sniffing the coffee.

  He got up and shrugged into his jacket then leaned over and kissed her. “Sorry, love, I must be off, or I’ll be late.” Sean looked across the kitchen at the mess left in the wake of her efforts. “Er…can you clean—”

  “Go!” she ordered, pointing to the door.

  “Cheers!” Winking, he kissed her again and hurried out the back door.

  “Yes, cheers,” she replied glumly, casting her own long, inspecting gaze over the disaster. She knew the sooner she started the task the better, but she’d rather sulk than clean—for a few more minutes at least. Heaving a disgusted sigh, she grabbed a book and sought refuge on a park bench in the square.

  The air that morning was light, almost breezy—a welcome relief from the oppressive heat. A chorus of birds chirped overhead, and leaves fluttered in the gentle wind as she made herself comfortable near the center of the square and opened the novel.

  “Get out!” a voice barked sharply from the opposite side of the park, making Catie’s head snap up before she had finished the first page. “Get out, and don’t ever come back!”

  “Praise God, hallelujah!” another voice answered, almost singing. “I is glad to be rid of you! Hallelujah!”

  It was then that Catie realized the commotion came from the tall mansion on the corner. Standing on the front steps of the stately residence, an elderly white woman, the home’s owner if her tailored attire was any indicator, shouted angrily down at a plump black woman on the sid
ewalk, “You’re crazy!” She waved her hand in a shooing motion. “Go on now! Get!”

  “Oh, I is goin’! Wouldn’t stay here if you begged me!” her adversary avowed. “I’m wipin’ my feet of you!” The black woman mockingly scraped her shoes on the curb in demonstration. Then, to further the insult, she turned and shook her large backside at the matronly woman on the steps.

  “Crazy!” was shouted once more just before the door slammed shut.

  “Praise God! Hallelujah!” The black woman continued her chant as she picked up two suitcases and marched toward Catie with a sprightliness that belied both her size and age.

  ***

  “Thought I’d find you out here,” Dr. Middleton called out as he brought his golf cart to a jerky stop in front of the stable doors.

  Smiling, Sean stashed his clipboard under his arm. “Dr. Middleton, good morning, sir!”

  “Good morning!” Dr. Middleton returned with his usual cheerfulness but was wearing a concerned frown by the time he joined Sean. “Well, how ’bout it?” he asked, gazing worriedly at the stables. “Are we ready? The first horses arrive Monday.”

  “We’re ready,” Sean assured him, patting the clipboard with confidence. “The students’ training and duty schedules will have some kinks to work out, but that’s to be expected. The work is more physical than complicated, so I foresee no real difficulties.”

  Norbury’s administrator looked surprised. “You’ve got all that on there?”

  “Yes, sir.” Sean handed him the clipboard.

  “I’m impressed,” Dr. Middleton said, sounding pleased as he leafed through the pages. “So impressed, I’m gonna buy your lunch.” He pressed the clipboard against Sean’s chest with a thud. “Hop on the cart, Kelly. I’ll give you a ride back to the office.”

  A few miles from the school, Dr. Middleton turned the car on to a narrow, dirt drive that ran under a canopy of trees that arched over the lane like a tunnel, their branches so heavily laden with Spanish moss the sunlight completely disappeared. At the end of the drive, a massive Queen Anne Victorian dominated a small clearing. For its size alone, the old yellow house was breathtaking albeit sorely neglected. A few screens had broken free and hung loose from second story windows, a number of discarded appliances and furniture had been stored on the wraparound porch, and chickens ran helter-skelter through the cars that were parked in the small yard.