The Heart Does Whisper (Echoes of Pemberley Book 2)

by Cynthia Ingram Hensley

  “You are referring to the horses, I hope!” She glowered at him.

  “Horses?” Were we talking about horses?”

  She reached out to swat his arm, but he took off galloping, yelling over his shoulder, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

  Side by side, they ran the horses fast and hard down an unused service road that was narrowed significantly by overgrowth. Although the mist had dissipated, the morning was still cool and grey in the thick woodlands that surrounded them. In the distance, Sean saw two spotted does standing at the edge of the trees. “Look, Catie!” he called out in a hushed, excited voice.

  The frightened animals stood frozen momentarily but, as the pounding horses drew nearer, came to their senses and leapt across the road in front of them, vanishing so suddenly it was like they’d never been there.

  “Did you see?” he asked, his blue eyes so brilliant there was an unexpected tug on her heart.

  My sons’ eyes. The thought came from nowhere. Smiling, she nodded at him.

  As they passed, Catie looked into the dense woods where the deer had fled; there wasn’t a soul in sight. Today, she thought, blushing bashfully.

  When she and Sean made love, he would come to her with his tender kisses and coax her gently and slowly until she trembled for wanting him. Then, he would draw her beneath him and love her in that fiery way of his. It was wonderful—he was wonderful—but Catie had desires as well. More and more often, she desired his love other times but had been too shy to initiate. Today would be different. She wanted to take him right here in Norbury’s woods. She wanted to take charge of their lovemaking and make him tremble for wanting her. Then…only then, would she gratify him. Today, she firmly decided, nervously biting her bottom lip.

  A tall brick fence ended the road, and Sean dismounted to check his saddle. “I believe this fence surrounds Challongate…old Montague’s property.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting her tomorrow. Do you think I’ll like her?”

  “You should.” He shrugged and grinned at her. “She looks enough like those old, vinegar-faced ancestors of yours.”

  “My ancestors were told not to smile in those portraits. They were meant to look distinguished.”

  “Distinguished, eh? If you ask me, they looked constipated.”

  Looking greatly offended, Catie expelled a rather feminine “harrumph” and took off, urging her mount into a fast gallop.

  “Catie!” he yelled as she pounded away from him, rapidly picking up speed. She didn’t look back. Cursing her foolishness, for he’d warned her Penelope had a tendency to be a bit high-strung, Sean mounted his horse in a single, heaving leap and made chase. He pushed Ruby hard to make up the ground she’d so quickly put between them. “Catie!” he tried once more, but she kept her pace.

  Not quite halfway back up the road, she pulled Penelope to a sudden halt and turned off the path into the woods. “No!” he cried out firmly as she faded into the tree line much like the deer a short while ago. “Bloody, pig-headed woman!” he yelled, spurring Ruby even harder.

  Following Penelope’s tracks, he couldn’t have been more than a few seconds behind Catie when he found the mare — minus her rider. He immediately saw the large downed tree that lay in front of the animal and was certain his worst fear had been realized. Catie had tried to jump the tree and… “Please, God, no!” he exclaimed, leaping to the ground. “Catie!”

  “See if you can find me,” rang out from somewhere around him in a teasing voice.

  Sean’s eyes closed in thanks as he exhaled a relieved sigh. “Lass, for your sake, you better hope I don’t find you!” he replied, meaning it.

  She giggled.

  A rustling of underbrush made him turn, and he saw her slip behind a massive tree trunk. A smile curled up one side of his mouth; he had her. Moving stealthily, he put his back against the tree, took a breath, and dashed around to grab her.

  “Christ!” Sean exclaimed as he crashed solidly with the earth. He’d tripped—hard.

  “Stay down,” said his wife, wedging her riding boot between his shoulder blades.

  Sean rolled over and looked up to find her looming over him. “Did you trip me?” he asked, stunned.

  She nodded as she reached up and released her hair, freeing the strawberry-blonde locks to cascade over her shoulders.

  Sean swallowed. “What the devil are you up to, Catie Kelly?”

  Straddling him, she brushed the dirt from his stomach and sat down. “For some time now, I’ve been fantasizing doing the headmaster in the woods behind the school.” She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and freed her breasts with the quick release of her bra clasp. “What do you think of that?”

  Amused, but careful not to show it, Sean put his hands behind his head. “Well, let me see.” He furrowed his brow in consideration. “Me elbows are skinned, me shirt’s ruined, and me wife’s been fantasizing doing Dr. Middleton in the woods behind the school.” He shook his head. “To be sure, lass, I don’t think very kindly of it at all.”

  Catie narrowed her eyes and punched him hard in the ribs. “Forget it!” She moved to get up, but he grabbed her arms and held her in place.

  “Not so fast, woman.” He smiled at her now. “I’m afraid you’ve started something you must finish.” Sean raised his hips and bounced her lightly up and down. “You’ve got the natives all riled up.” He winked. “If you catch my meaning.”

  “Fine!” She spread out over top of him. “But I’m on top this time.”

  “Honey,” he drawled in his ever-improving southern accent. “I’m all yours.”

  ***

  Challongate was a massive, white-columned, brick, plantation house that sat grandly on an immense, almost treeless lawn. Catie ducked her head and leaned over Sean to get a better view from his window.

  “Rather imposing, do you not think?” she asked.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “And Pemberley isn’t imposing?”

  “Heavens no! Pemberley is much better situated to the land around it.”

  “Catie?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Will you sit down before you cause me to run off the drive?” Sighing, she fell back in her seat but kept her eyes on the approaching manor. Sean looked over at her. His wife had been a bundle of nerves and excitement all morning. “Why are you so nervous? You were brought up in a home twice the size of Challongate, and like I told you, Miss Montague’s just another rich old crank who thinks she orders the sun to rise. Kind of like your brother,” he mumbled the latter.

  She cut her eyes at him. “I heard that.”

  “Answer my question.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t say really.”

  “Could it be that you’re meeting the high and mighty Miss Montague as a Kelly rather than a Darcy?”

  “No!” she replied hastily, but then lowered her head and softly admitted, “Well, maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Oh, it’s not what you think!” she quickly amended, sensing the disappointment in his voice. “Sean, I could never be ashamed to be married to you. But, you’re right. I’m meeting Miss Montague as a Kelly…not a Darcy.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said quietly.

  She looked thoughtfully at him. “Just being a Darcy has always been enough. Nothing else mattered. But now…well, now I’m your wife. And for your career, it’s going to be important that people like me.” She lowered her voice. “I need not tell you of all people that I don’t always make the best first impression.”

  He put out his arm, and she slid across the seat to nestle against him. “Every day, mo chailín, I love you more. And I’m ashamed that it’s always my own infernal pride that makes me doubt you. Will you forgive me and live forever with this insufferable ass you’ve married?”

  She smiled. “You forget…I fell in love with you because you were an insufferable ass. I rather fancy insufferable asses!”

  He laughed. “You’re no ordinary woman, Catie Kelly, and I like
you all the more for it.”

  Sean parked the car on the circular drive in front of the house, and immediately the Middletons pulled in behind him. In his rearview mirror, Sean saw Prissy, with her voluminous blonde hair, smiling big and waving in her grand southern way. He smiled and waved back. He and Catie had grown extremely attached to the Middletons since their arrival in Savannah, and he was grateful for their friendship. As they got out of their cars and greeted each other, a low, distant thunder rumbled.

  “Don’t think we’ll be having our tea on the lawn,” Dr. Middleton stated the obvious as he gestured to a threatening black cloud that hovered over the old house like a big shoe ready to squash a bug.

  “Fine with me,” Sean said, grabbing his wife by the hand. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

  The old screen doors and a loose shutter flapped in the storm’s rising wind, giving Catie a foreboding feeling as Dr. Middleton rang the bell—Westminster chimes. Taking advantage of what he felt a fitting prayer for the occasion, Sean sang along, “‘All through this hour, Lord be my guide. And by thy power, no foot shall slide.’”

  “I didn’t know that had words!” Prissy exclaimed, smiling big again.

  Sean and Catie exchanged amused glances as the large oak door opened with a low, eerie creak.

  “Welcome to Challongate,” said a tall, elderly man in an English accent. Miss Montague’s butler, Catie assumed. He was dressed in a light grey jacket, which hung loosely on his skeletal frame, and wore little round glasses on the tip of his nose. His eyes, which were the same grey as his jacket, automatically met with Catie’s.

  “How are you this stormy Sunday afternoon, Robbins?” Dr. Middleton asked in his easy way.

  “Fine, Dr. Middleton, sir, and yourself?”

  “Can’t complain…the Lord’s been kind.” Dr. Middleton lowered his voice and leaned close to the butler. “How’s the old bird today?”

  “She has been most excited to receive you all this afternoon.” He met Catie’s eyes again and smiled slightly. “I was told to expect a fellow countryman today. Tell me, madam, how does our great kingdom fare?”

  “Grand when I last saw her.” She smiled at him. “Essex. Am I correct?”

  “You are, madam,” he told her, looking pleased. “Southend-on-Sea was my boyhood home, but sadly, I haven’t seen those shores since ’44.”

  Catie reached out and put her hand on the thin arm. “But that’s terrible. Have you no family left to visit?”

  Robbins opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by Miss Montague’s sharp voice. “Robbins, do you plan on keeping my guests in the hall all afternoon?”

  “No, Miss Montague,” the elderly butler replied, winking slowly at them.

  “Then bring them in immediately. I detest conversation I have no part in!”

  “Yes, Miss Montague.” Robbins looked back at the foursome, bobbed his head formally, and said, “Please, follow me.”

  The old butler unhurriedly led them through a formal parlor to a glass sunroom filled with potted ferns, peace lilies, palms, and dracaena. Sitting in the middle of the room was an oversized birdcage that housed a colorful assortment of cheeping, flittering parakeets. Behind the cage, seated in a high-back wicker chair, Catie saw Annabelle Montague, a petite, thin-faced woman with small, almond-shaped eyes. On her lap, a caramel-colored Yorkshire stood up and yipped.

  “Muffy, mind your manners,” the woman scolded, and the dog settled quietly again on the blanket that was draped over her mistress’s lap.

  “Do come in,” she bid them with a flourishing gesture to the collection of wicker furniture around her. “Hugh, Priscilla…sit…sit. And, Mr. Kelly, I’m most anxious to meet your English wife.”

  Sean stepped closer, Catie at his side. “Miss Montague, Catherine Kelly, Catie, Miss Annabelle Montague.”

  “Mrs. Kelly, a pleasure to meet you.” Miss Montague reached up and took Catie’s hand in hers. “Please sit, child, and talk with me about our lovely England.”

  “Thank you, Miss Montague. I’d be delighted.” Catie sat on a settee beside the woman’s chair. “I’ve been missing home so dreadfully, I truly believe I could dwell on the subject all afternoon.”

  Miss Montague frowned. “Good heavens, Catherine Kelly, you do sound rather posh. Robbins, fetch my glasses. I’m blind without them and I would like to better see my young English guest.” Robbins gave her a nod and left the room in his unhurried way.

  “Priscilla, how are your mother and father. I understand your father isn’t content with retirement.” Miss Montague turned her attentions to Prissy Middleton, as Catie glanced worriedly at Sean.

  He shrugged.

  “Thank you for asking, Annabelle.” Prissy’s face lit at the mention of her parents. “They are well, but you’re right, daddy hates being retired. He’s about to drive poor mama crazy. The man can’t sit still to save his life.”

  “No good man can sit still! My own good father ran his business until the day he was called home—died at his desk over his ledger books. Retirement was not in Garret Montague’s vocabulary.” Her voice bore such finality; no one was surprised when she shifted her gaze to Sean and changed the subject. “How are my girls, Sean Kelly? Did they behave well for you yesterday?”

  “The horses…oh yes, ma’am. The horses behaved like perfect ladies.” Sean glanced in mock reproach at his wife.

  Catie’s face flushed beet red at his private tease over their lovemaking. She prayed the Middletons didn’t notice.

  “Your glasses, Miss Montague,” Robbins said, giving the lenses a final cleaning before handing them down to her.

  “Thank you, Robbins.” Miss Montague placed the thick glasses securely on her face and looked at Catie. She narrowed and blinked her now enlarged eyes as if she thought they were deceiving her.

  “Is everything all right, Miss Montague,” asked Catie guardedly, feeling a bit discomforted by the woman’s scrutiny.

  “I apologize,” Miss Montague said, recovering a little. “It’s only… You do bear a striking resemblance to someone I once knew…once…a dear friend. May I ask, Mrs. Kelly, from what area of Derbyshire do you come?”

  “Ashridge, a small market village southwest of the — ”

  “Peak District,” Miss Montague finished for her. “Great God, Margaret Sumner!” The woman fell back in her chair as Muffy leapt from her lap. She looked back at Catie. “You are a Darcy of Pemberley Estate, are you not, my girl?”

  Glancing again at Sean, Catie nodded and replied softly, “Margaret Sumner Darcy was my mother.”

  In the brief silence that followed, two maids came quietly into the room with trays of finger sandwiches and fruit and began arranging the refreshments on a long, antique sideboard. Miss Montague stood, letting the blanket fall to the floor, and said, “Catherine, come with me, child. There is something I must show you.”

  Sean rose protectively alongside Catie, but Miss Montague waved dismissively at him. “I’ll return your young wife directly, Sean Kelly,” she said shortly then turned to the Middletons. “Please, help yourself to tea.”

  “It’s all right,” Catie assured him with a little smile. “I shan’t be long.”

  “Aye,” he breathed for her ears only and reluctantly let go of her hand.

  Trailing Challongate’s mistress down the long, main hall that ran through the center of the house like the spine of a book, Catie could see the woman’s lovely figure in the flow and sway of the red silk housedress she wore. She couldn’t help but wonder why Miss Montague had never married, for surely she would’ve been an exquisite creature in her prime.

  Behind the home’s sweeping staircase, Miss Montague opened the door to a massive, oak-paneled bookroom. A stark contrast to the brightly lit hall, the library was dark with heavy green curtains and a walnut-stained, coffered ceiling. Cater-cornered by the windows was a gleaming oak desk that seemed to possess an authority all its own.

  “A proper English gentleman’s study,�
� Miss Montague said beaming, “almost an exact replica of the one at Challongate Hall in Staffordshire, though smaller in scale.”

  “Very nice,” Catie commented. “What did you want to show me, Miss Montague?”

  The woman started to speak, but she was taken by a fit of coughing that forced her to lean on her father’s massive desk.

  “Miss Montague, are you all right?” Catie came quickly to her side.

  “Fine, fine,” she croaked huskily, warding off Catie’s concern. “I’ve had an affinity for Virginia Slims since I was a girl, and they’re taking their revenge, I’m afraid.” She cleared her throat a couple of times then said weakly, “I’d have one now if Robbins wouldn’t sulk all evening.”

  Catie smiled. “My daddy smoked a pipe on Sunday afternoons. The smell of tobacco still reminds me of him.”

  Annabelle Montague looked intently at her. “You…are…Willie’s child, aren’t you, girl? You look like Margaret, but you possess Willie’s spirit. I can sense it! Oh dear, dear, Willie!”

  “Miss Montague.” Catie stepped back in amazement. “Did you know my father?”

  Annabelle Montague smiled at her and sat down in a red leather desk chair, which seemed to swallow her small frame. She opened a drawer with some effort, lifted out an old, dusty photo album and banged it down on the desk. Curious, Catie drew close again as Miss Montague began thumbing through the pages.

  “There!” the woman exclaimed, pointing to a black and white photograph of two young girls and a boy standing on the steps of Pemberley House.

  Looking puzzled, Catie asked, “My brother?”

  “No, child, that’s your daddy.”

  Catie looked again, more closely this time. “He looks so young!”

  “Young and handsome,” said Miss Montague, “the way I’ll always remember him.”

  “Is that my mother beside him?” Catie asked excitedly. “My goodness, they couldn’t have been more than sixteen!”

  “Fifteen actually, it was our first summer together. See there next to them.” A long, red nail tapped lightly on the girl opposite Margaret Sumner. “That’s me!”