The Heart Does Whisper (Echoes of Pemberley Book 2)

by Cynthia Ingram Hensley

  “Why did you not tell me about Gabriel?”

  Exhaling greatly, Sean dropped his head. “Must we do this now?”

  “No, I would have been happy to discuss your brother’s drinking problem shortly after he arrived. Oh, that’s right. You didn’t seem to think I deserved to know. I’ll just tell poor, naïve, simple-minded Catie he’s on holiday.”

  “Poor, naïve, simple-minded Catie?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly how I imagined your reasoning!” she whispered to keep from waking his father and brother, but Sean could tell she was upset. “When one’s kept in the dark, they tend to fantasize these things.”

  “You finished?” he asked.

  “No.” His head dropped again, and she continued, “I’ve been loaning Gabe money. Do you hear me, Sean Kelly? Without knowing, I’ve been buying your brother’s whiskey!”

  “You should’ve told me Gabe was borrowing money. I’d have put a stop to it,” he said firmly.

  “Ha! Bloody, bloody ha!” Still speaking in hushed tones, she sat up. “I should have told you? Is that your idea of a joke?”

  Sean fell back on the pillow and stared up at her, his arm behind his head. What could he say? She was right. He deserved every bit of her anger and more. Might as well lie there and take it like a man, he told himself. But, looking hurt, his wife said no more. After a moment, he reached up and touched her arm. “I’m sorry, mo chailín.” She searched his eyes as if there was something else she wanted to say. “Is something else bothering you?”

  “Tonight, I-I felt as though you didn’t want me here. I felt as if I was in the way…a nuisance.”

  “That was my fault. I was brusque with you.” He stroked her arm then pulled her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why, Sean? Why didn’t you tell me about Gabe?”

  He sighed greatly. Tired as he was, it was time for the truth. “Me grand-da was an alcoholic, Catie. Like most Catholics, he was a peaceful man who wanted naught but a good job with decent pay, but the actions of some and the prejudices of others made his life and his family’s life a living hell. He couldn’t afford to feed his children, so he drank—a lot. Pádraig, Da’s youngest brother, is also an alcoholic. He’s been drinkin’ since he was a teenager. When my uncle gets juiced up, sometimes he hits his wife—a thing he’d never do sober. Sober, Pad’s gentle as a kitten. I don’t know about Gabriel. I’m scared, Catie, and so is Da. I can tell by the way he looks at Gabe.”

  “Why would you keep all this from me?” she asked, settling down in the crook of his arm, her hand lightly stroking the soft hairs around his navel. “I’m your wife. You must allow me to be here for you.”

  Staring at the ceiling, Sean said, “I was ashamed. Your family has such a well-documented, noble history. I didn’t want you to think — Damn it, Catie, don’t you know? It was just one more reason I wasn’t good enough for you. I realize I must get over the fact that you’re wealthy and your family’s wealthy, but it always makes me feel so bloody unworthy…so damned useless.”

  Her hand stilled, and she was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, “Maybe you shouldn’t have married me. Maybe you should have married some Irish peasant girl so you could feel manlier—more important.” She moved to get up, but he grabbed her hands firmly and held her in place.

  “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  “Do I?” she snapped angrily. “Do I, Sean? Because in case you haven’t noticed, I can’t change who I am or where I’ve come from any more than you can. And as for my well-documented, noble family, have you ever taken the time to read all those family history books in Pemberley’s library?” He shook his head. “No, because if you had, you would know that their pages are rife with cattle thieves, gamblers, and a seventeenth-century Derbyshire family feud over one measly bloody acre of bottomland that would make America’s Hatfields and McCoys seem like a junior school playground squabble. No family is perfect, Sean — wealthy, well-documented, or not.”

  “If you don’t hold your voice down, you’re going to wake Da.” He brought each of her hands to his mouth and kissed them, looking at her as he did so. Then he grinned that damned wicked-gypsy grin. “And you should know that there aren’t a great many peasant girls in County Down these days.”

  She glared at him. “If my hands were free, Sean Kelly, I’d slap that damned grin off your face.”

  The grin widened, and his eyes glimmered. “Aye, I know you would. Just one of the reasons I married you, woman.” He pulled her down on top of him, nose to nose. “I also married you because, when you come into a room, I suddenly feel ten feet tall. If I had wings, Catherine Kelly, you’d be my air. I believe I can do anything because you love me. I didn’t want any other woman. No other woman would have been good enough once I set my eyes on you. You give me so much.” He paused and swallowed. “I just fear. I wonder and worry what you get in return.”

  Her brows drew together. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “What I mean is…you don’t need me to provide for you. You don’t even need me to protect you. Every time I’ve tried, you’ve gone to great ends to prove to me that you don’t need protectin’. A man wants to take care of his wife and his family. It’s his pride to do so, but you don’t need me.”

  She smiled soft-heartedly at him.

  “Don’t patronize me, Catie. I can stand anything but that.”

  “I’m not. But, Sean, you’re wrong. I do need you. I need you for many, many reasons but for one very important reason.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need you because, for the first time since I was eight years old, I belong to someone. I don’t expect you to understand that because you can’t. Since I was born, I’ve always felt as if a piece of me died with mother. Does that sound silly to you?”

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “I felt the same after daddy died—only worse. You, Gabe, and your brothers are very fortunate to have your father. Seamus dropped everything to come to his son. I must admit I’m slightly jealous of that.”

  “What are you talking about?” He chucked incredulously. “Bennet Darcy would be here tomorrow if you needed him. Swim the bloody ocean if he had to. You know that.”

  “Yes, he would be here, but he’s not my father is he? When I met you, Sean, I realized why Ben married Sarah so soon after daddy’s death. He loved her, but there was more to it than that. Once Dad died, everything Ben and I belonged to was gone. By marrying Sarah and starting a family, he was able to begin reconstructing the cornerstone of his world—a world that had fallen apart when Daddy was killed. You can’t replace people, but you can rebuild your life. The day you told me you loved me for the first time after the rainstorm in that lean-to…do you remember?”

  “Like it was yesterday,” he whispered, twisting one of her ringlets around his finger.

  “Well, since that day, I’ve been reconstructing my cornerstone too. Sean, you love me; I’m yours. You can’t imagine what that means to me. Mo chailín — my girl; those words mean I belong to someone. I belong to you.”

  “Aye.” He rolled her onto the bed and leaned over top of her. “You’re mine forever, mo chailín.” Sean linked his hands with hers and pinned her arms over her head. “Mine,” he repeated, forcibly taking her mouth with his own. He kissed and nibbled slowly down her neck, stopping to pay particular attention to her beautifully arched breast. “Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. Mine. Say it, Catie. Say you’re mine,” he commanded.

  “I’m yours,” she breathed obediently.

  “Aye, there’s a good girl then.”

  “Sean.”

  “Yes, darlin’.”

  “I want you to make love to me again but…but I’m afraid I may be a bit quick off the mark.”

  He laughed. “That’s all right, lass.”

  Chapter 16

  Unable to sleep, Sean eased out of bed to keep from waking his wife and padded softly downstairs. The sun was just beginning to pierce the front windo
ws, casting streaks of orange, morning sunlight across the wooden floors. In the air, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee gave the house a homey feel and told Sean someone else was awake. A movement caught his attention, and he stepped over to the parlor door. His father stood gazing out the large bay window, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Da,” he said quietly. “Why are you awake so early?”

  “Early?” his father scoffed, looking at his watch. “It’s twelve bells.”

  Sean smiled. “Aye, back home.”

  “Come in, Sean Donovan.” Seamus motioned his son into the room. “I’m glad you’re awake. I’d like a word.”

  Sean Donovan? Sean’s spine straightened, and he instinctively swallowed. When he was a boy, it had been his father’s practice to use his full Christian name when he was displeased. But then Sean remembered…he wasn’t a boy. He was a grown man for heaven’s sake. Still, he crossed the room with a certain degree of apprehension. “What is it, Da?”

  “Pull up a pew, Son.” Seamus pointed to the narrow, built-in window seat that lined the bay window.

  Sean sat down and saw the coffee pot on a tray beside his father. There was an extra cup as if the man were expecting someone—maybe expecting him.

  “Coffee?”

  “Sure,” he replied unnecessarily as his father had already begun pouring the steaming, black liquid. He and his brothers were introduced to their father’s coffee at an early age, as soon as they were old enough for the demands of morning chores. Da’s coffee was a rite of passage in the Kelly household—a step towards manhood. Sean took a sip and winced. Bloody hell! He’d forgotten how strong his father made coffee.

  “You’ve been from home too long, Seany. You’re goin’ soft, lad.”

  Not sure how to answer that, Sean said nothing but took another sip—more substantial this time—and kept a blank expression. Rather difficult considering he’d just burned the devil out of his tongue.

  His father chuckled.

  “Go on, Da. I’m listening,” Sean said testily, feeling ten years old again and a tad embarrassed.

  “Gabriel and I will be leaving in a few hours. We’ve a connecting flight to catch.”

  Sean set his cup on the windowsill. “So soon? Catie will be disappointed.”

  “I know she will.” He sat down across from Sean. “But it’s time the two of you had life to yourselves again. Gabe’s my responsibility…not yours.”

  “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

  Seamus drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He will or he’ll get a lot of practice removing my boot from his arse.” He smiled at Sean. “I can tell you from experience, there’s naught works better to set a man straight than learnin’ he’s a babe in the cooker. I remember when your mother told me she was up the duff with you. I sold my Triumph—a smart lookin’ ’47—and bought your mammy a blue pram lined in white satin and a baby cot with the cow jumping over the moon painted on. God, I loved that motorbike.”

  “I thought you told me you sold that Triumph before you got married.”

  Seamus’s eyebrows rose. “Did I? Hmm.”

  Sean looked appalled. “Ma told me I was conceived on your wedding night!”

  “Oh, stop being so damned precious, Seany. Life happens.” Seamus grinned at his son. “You’re living proof of that. Sure, didn’t you and the lovely wee Catherine have a turn or two before the nuptials?”

  “No!” Sean declared indignantly then looked down at his hands. “Though, I don’t deny tryin’. If it weren’t for Aunt Rose— She had the lass’s ear, preachin’ virtue and some rubbish about buying cows and free milk. I asked her once did she think she was marryin’ a dairyman.”

  Seamus chuckled softly. “That Catherine, she’s a good lass if ever there was one. She’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Catie?”

  “Aye, her and…comin’ home.”

  “Da, I can’t come home. I’ve made a commitment to Norbury until June, and Catie’s a year of university yet. I’ve already started sending queries for teaching positions in Cambridge.”

  Seamus waved his hand dismissively. “I know all that. I meant come home when you and the lass have finished conquering the world.” Sighing, he stood and stared out the window again. “I was wrong, Sean Donovan.”

  There was his full name again. “Wrong about what, Da?”

  “I was wrong to try and keep you at Kells Down. Oh, I’ve known it for years, but last night—” Seamus paused then and looked his son in the eyes. “Last night I saw firsthand with me own eyes that you’re doing the work God intended you to do. You broke your father’s heart, Seany, but you were right in doing so. I’m sorry I ever held it against you. I raised you to be your own man, then — ”

  “It’s all right, Da,” Sean said softly. He’d waited long to hear those words from his father, but when his da began to speak them, he realized he didn’t need to hear them after all. The look in his father’s eyes said everything and more.

  “Aye, it’s all right,” his father repeated, smiling sadly. “Come home then and teach. You’ve a real talent and a great bit to offer there.”

  “Da, teaching in Northern Ireland—in County Down has always been my purpose.”

  Seamus looked surprised. “It has?”

  “Aye,” Sean chuckled.

  “And my pretty daughter-in-law…does she share your purpose?”

  Sean picked up his cup and took another hearty gulp. Thankfully, the coffee had cooled some. After a thoughtful moment of staring into the black liquid, he said, “We’ve not made any real decisions beyond Cambridge, but Catie—”

  “Talk to her, Seany,” Seamus interrupted him. “Women fancy a say in their lives.”

  Sean blew out a puff of air and ran his hand roughly through his messy, morning hair. “I reckon we should have settled all of that before now.”

  “Aye, you should’ve.” Seamus nodded then put his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Sean, that child’s been a long time without a mother or a father. It may be that sharing your parents with her is the greatest gift you can give your wife. She’ll be havin’ her babies someday, and she’ll be wantin’ those babies to have grandparents to bounce the bonnie weans on their knee. Women need family to be settled and nest.”

  Sean shook his head. “I don’t know what Catie needs. Sometimes I don’t thinks she knows herself. God knows I love her more than life but…what does a man give a lass who could buy the bloody moon if she wanted it?”

  “Problem is, Son, she can’t buy the moon. Didn’t I teach you not everything can be bought?”

  Sean nodded. “You did.”

  “You’re coming at it all wrong, Seany. You must go deeper, to Catherine’s heart — her soul. Stop dwelling on what she has and start trying to discover what it is she needs.”

  Looking somewhat shamefaced, Sean agreed. “That makes good sense, Da.”

  “I knew somebody done been in my kitchen,” Etta said from the doorway. “You all sure are up and at it early this mornin’.”

  Smiling, Seamus lifted his coffee mug to her. “Aye, ma’am, I’ve been ahead of the cock’s crow all me life.”

  Etta smiled back, the big, toothy smile that Sean loved. “Me too, Mr. Kelly, me too. You just finish your coffee, and I’ll go fix us up some biscuits and gravy.”

  “Thank you, Miss Etta,” Sean said. “That sounds grand.”

  As she bustled off, Sean’s father looked curiously at him. “These folks eat gravy with their biscuits?”

  Sean laughed. “Yeah, Da, they do.”

  ***

  The soft pluck of a guitar woke Catie on the morning of her twenty-first birthday. She rolled over and saw her husband, standing beside the bed, serenading her.

  “I love you as I never loved before

  Since first I saw you on the village green

  Come to me or my dream of love is o’er

  I love you as I loved you, when you were sweet

  When you
were sweet sixteen.”

  She smiled sleepily at him. “But you didn’t first see me on the village green.”

  “No,” he said, putting his guitar aside and climbing onto the bed with her. “I first saw you in the village pub—the Green Man. You were sixteen, I was nineteen, and it was love at first sight.”

  “Liar! Have you forgotten the bit where you promptly discovered that I was a Darcy and wrongly presumed I was a spoiled child who had horrible tantrums?”

  “Wrongly?” He raised a questioning brow at her.

  She kicked him under the covers.

  Laughing, Sean kissed her. “Happy birthday, beautiful. And no matter how many birthdays you have, you’ll always be sixteen here.” He touched his heart.

  “I’ll expect you to remember that when I have wrinkles and a fat bum.”

  He peeked under the covers. “Ye’ve already a bonnie fat—”

  She put her hand over his mouth. “I would advise you not to finish that sentence, Mr. Kelly.”

  “Yes, m’lady,” he replied through her fingers.

  Catie snuggled against him and let out a long sigh.

  “That was a rather wistful sigh for a birthday girl.”

  “I was just thinking of Ben and feeling a tad sorry for him.”

  “Ben?”

  “Yes. Every year on my birthday, we take flowers to mother’s grave after breakfast. I just hate he had to go alone.”

  “He didn’t have to go alone. Sarah’s there.”

  “No.” Catie shook her head. “It’s always been just he and I. You know how particular Ben is about certain things.”

  “Anal-retentive might be a better word.”

  “Sean!” Catie exclaimed, elbowing him.

  “It’s true. A birthday should be about life—not death. I’m bloody glad you’re not there. It’s morbid.”

  She turned and looked at him. “Don’t be disrespectful. Today is the anniversary of mother’s death. We mustn’t forget that.”

  “I’m not trying to be disrespectful. I just think there are better ways to celebrate her life and yours than a grim march to the Darcy family cemetery.”