The Heart Does Whisper (Echoes of Pemberley Book 2)

by Cynthia Ingram Hensley

  With smiling satisfaction, Robbins watched her gently file through the stacks for a moment then said, “Well, I must be off. I’ve a flight to catch.”

  “How can I ever thank you?” she asked, taking his hand in hers and squeezing affectionately. “There are no words to express what a treasure you have given me.”

  “The look on your face was thanks enough,” Robbins said then turned to go but stopped hesitantly at the door.

  “Was there something else?” Catie asked.

  Robbins’s cheeks reddened in a way that said whatever he was about to say was regrettable. “Yes, Catie, sadly, there is something else. In recent weeks, I have heard some rather unpleasant gossip. I have fretted greatly over whether or not I should relay the information to you. However, I’ve concluded that you should know. My dear, there have been rumors.”

  “Rumors?”

  “Yes. During the estate auction, I overheard a conversation among several female attendees, women from Savannah’s upper circles; that lot came in droves to buy Challongate’s bric-a-brac. They said…” Robbins paused to take an encouraging breath. “They said not too long ago, Delia Reynolds was witnessed making a proposition to your husband. She was heard making him an offer to come inside her home…rather late one evening.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Catie.

  “I know you have considered Miss Reynolds a friend, Catie.” Robbins spoke with sincere concern. “But she is no friend of yours.”

  Someone might have set a ton of bricks on Catie’s chest for the difficulty she had in taking her next breath. She nodded, not knowing how else to respond. Then asked, “Did these rumors say whether or not my husband— No…please don’t answer that.” She sat down on the hall bench, putting a hand to her stomach, which was suddenly queasy. “I trust my husband and have the utmost faith in my marriage.” Catie wished she had spoken with more conviction.

  Robbins put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “That is wise, madam. And please, allow me to confirm: from what I have heard, your trust and faith are not misplaced.”

  Catie closed her eyes. Of course, her trust in Sean wasn’t misplaced. He would never. She had no doubt.

  “Are you all right?” Robbins asked. “Shall I send the driver on and stay with you until you have recovered?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You’ll miss your flight and Etta’s here.” It suddenly dawned on Catie that she hadn’t heard Etta’s singing for several minutes. “I’m fine…really.”

  “Very well then.” Robbins tipped his hat to her. “Cheerio, madam.”

  “Yes. Cheerio.” Catie forced a halfhearted smile. “Have a safe flight.”

  After closing the door, she stood frozen, going over the information in her mind once again. Then, bearing an expression like granite, Catie started for the steps.

  “Where you think you goin’?” Etta appeared from the kitchen doorway, where she’d been eavesdropping on the conversation.

  “I thought I’d pop in at the tearoom and meet Delia Reynolds for lunch,” Catie stopped mid-step and replied. Her attempt at casualness was lost in her acerbic tone. God help Delia Reynolds.

  Etta narrowed her eyes in motherly fashion. “Child, why you gonna do somethin’ stupid? Didn’t I tell you that woman was no good? What can you say to her that’ll change that?”

  “Delia Reynolds has trespassed on my marriage, and I intend to make her understand her error in doing so.” Not wanting further counsel, Catie continued up the steps with cold determination.

  Etta shook her head. “You do what you gotta do, child, and so will I.”

  ***

  Sean rubbed his face vigorously and sat down to his work. Unfortunately, his visit with Tim Patterson hadn’t held all the answers he’d hoped for. And what’s more, he now, more than ever, believed Tim Patterson to be an innocent man but was powerless to do anything about it. Even if he had solid evidence of Tim Patterson’s innocence—which he didn’t—it would most likely take moving heaven and earth to overturn a murder conviction. Toby’s statement to Sean just wasn’t enough, and the child still wasn’t able to testify on behalf of his father. Truth be told, Toby might never be able to testify. And besides, what could the boy say other than it was dark, he heard yelling, and someone attacked him—certainly not a ground-breaking eyewitness account.

  Then there was what Tim Patterson had to say about Vernon Hill, Toby’s step-grandfather. By hook or by crook, Sean had to make sure that man was never granted custody of Toby. Looking out his small, single window, Sean heaved a heavy sigh, knowing he was going to have to tell Dr. Middleton that, despite his counsel, he’d gone to see Tim Patterson anyway. It wasn’t a task Sean particularly looked forward to.

  A rapid, insistent knock on his door startled him. Not wanting to see anyone, Sean considered pretending he wasn’t in. Then the knock came again, more urgently, and he got up. It was times like this he wished he had a secretary. “Mrs. Middleton?” he said, surprised.

  “Sean, honey, you’ve got to get to town. Now!” Prissy said in a hurried, hushed voice. “It’s Catie… She knows about Delia Reynolds.”

  He reached out, pulled her into his office, and shut the door. “Catie knows what about Delia Reynolds?”

  Prissy Middleton gave him an impatient look. “Jones Street is a very compact, little community, Sean. What transpired between you and Delia on Jones Street has been ripe, backhand gossip for weeks.”

  “All that transpired between Delia Reynolds and myself is I walked her home and then took my leave.” Sean sounded defensive, and his heart was beating so fast he had to remind himself to stay calm.

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” Prissy asked, flustered. “Honey, you turned down Savannah’s most prominent home-wrecker in the middle of Jones Street — her turf. You humiliated her, and Delia hasn’t been seen prowling the bars since all the gossip started. You’re a regular hero.”

  As realization began to set in, Sean asked, “You mean to tell me Catie knows that Delia Reynolds made a play for…”

  “Um-hmm,” Prissy interrupted, nodding. “And, according to your Miss Etta, Catie’s planning on confronting Delia at the tearoom today during lunch.”

  “Jaysus!” Sean exclaimed in a croak then looked quickly at his watch.

  “Go!” Prissy ordered.

  “Right.” Sean felt for his keys, made for the door, and then turned back. “Where is that bloody tearoom?”

  “Bull Street. Now hurry!”

  Sean double-parked. It was high noon in the tearoom, and he didn’t have time to search for a parking place. In all honesty, he was a bit shocked by Catie’s reaction. Charging off, half-cocked to confront his would-be seductress sounded more like something he might do were the situation reversed. Weren’t women supposed to be the gentler sex? He came inside the small restaurant, crowded cheek by jowl with women, in time to see Catie approach Delia’s table. Not wanting to shout out to his wife and draw undue attention, he began to elbow his way through a throng of big purses, bigger hair, and the overwhelming balm of at least twenty different perfumes and fresh-baked lemon squares.

  “Well, hello, Catie Kelly.” Brandishing a full-faced, glossy-red smile, Delia unnecessarily tapped a freshly lit cigarette on the lip of a crystal ashtray. “You and I didn’t have a lunch date today did we, honey?” Delia looked at the woman sitting across from her. “I just can’t keep my social obligations straight. I told my daddy he was going to have to hire me an assistant.”

  The other woman cackled, and Delia joined her. Catie could tell her presence was making the realtor uncomfortable and was glad for it. “I believe you know why I’m here, Delia,” she replied frostily, speaking over the laughter and hushing much of the conversation around them. “I’d like to know why you made me believe you were my friend then, when my back was turned, made an advance to my husband.”

  Knowing the little spectacle was being closely observed by the tearoom’s other patrons, Delia decided to co
rk the current of gossip that had plagued her since the night Sean Kelly had so blatantly rejected her. She took a long drag on her cigarette then blew smoke towards Catie’s face. “It was a chilly evening, honey. All I did was invite your husband in for a cup of coffee. If you don’t believe me, ask him for yourself. He’s directly behind you.”

  Stunned, Catie turned just as Sean took a firm hold on her hand. “Come, Catie,” he said softly. “Let me take you home, darlin’.”

  She looked into his blue eyes for a long moment and saw immediately in them why he had come: Delia Reynolds wasn’t worth their trouble. She nodded as Sean put his arm protectively around her, and together they started away.

  Jealously wasn’t an emotion a woman like Delia could allow herself, but seeing Sean Kelly walk off with his sweet English rose really stuck in her craw. She was the one to be envied, not the other way around. From the minute she’d set eyes on the Irishman, she could tell he was the sort of man who could handle a woman—nothing like those sniveling emasculated adulterers who’d take what they needed from her then go crawling back to their wives. But unlike them, Sean Kelly didn’t want or need anything from her. He’d humiliated her, and she wanted him to pay for his folly. Delia cleared her throat and spoke out over the hushed restaurant. “Wives like you, Catie Kelly, would do well to keep their husbands at home and out of bars. Your Irishman did seem rather lonely that evening. I thought it neighborly of me to offer him some company.”

  Before Sean could stop her, Catie turned and marched the short distance back to Delia’s table. “And you would do well, Miss Reynolds, to understand that just because a man pops into a pub for a pint after work doesn’t declare him open season, especially if he is married!”

  “Amen,” seconded someone behind Catie as Delia took one last puff on her cigarette and put it out.

  She looked at Catie with a venomous expression and spoke with a bitter cattiness that belied her usual sweet syrup-slow southern drawl. “You’re fooling yourself, honey, if you think for one second your husband was ignorant as to why he was walking me home. He just had last minute jitters—cold feet. It happens to most husbands the first time they…you know.” Delia smiled nastily then and added, “Shame that. Maybe I’ll have better luck next time.”

  There was a sudden thrumming in Catie ears, which conjured in her some primordial instinct that moved her to pick up a glass of water from the table and pour it over the realtor’s head. A shriek from Delia seemed to summon a chorus of gasps and a single oath from Sean. Then the room began to spin on its axis, and before Catie knew what was happening, she was upended over her husband’s shoulder and being hauled towards the entrance at a fast clip. Women made haste to clear Sean’s path and a clamor of whoops and applause followed them to the door.

  Breathing heavily, Sean put her down in the narrow alleyway that ran alongside the restaurant but not before landing a censorious swat across her backside.

  “Hey!” she protested, her face beet red with indignation.

  “What the devil are ye thinkin’, Catie?” he asked, furious and speaking in his thickest brogue. “Is it not enough that I’ve already had to bail one Kelly out of the Savannah jail for breaching the peace? Damn it, lass! I’ve always known you to be bold as brass but never so bleedin’ reckless!”

  “Reckless?! I’ll have you know I was showing restraint. I should have spit in Delia Reynolds’ eye!”

  “Why would you let that woman rile you so? For God’s sake, nothin’ happened between us! Sure you know that.”

  Catie took a shaky breath as Delia’s glossy-red lips moved slowly in her mind’s eye. You’re fooling yourself, honey. But Catie was no fool. She looked Sean directly in the eye and, in a careful, deliberate tone, asked, “Tell me why you walked her home, Sean? Delia’s not a delicate woman, and you are most definitely not naïve.”

  Twice Sean opened his mouth to respond but closed it again. Of course he knew what Delia’s intentions were. Any twelve-year-old boy who’d ever had a twitch in his trousers would know. If he were to be completely honest, at the time, even he wasn’t sure why he followed Delia Reynolds to Jones Street. But he knew now and was ashamed to admit it. Unable to look at her, his eyes dropped away from her gaze, and Catie’s heart sank to the depths of her stomach.

  “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed in a whisper, bringing her hand to her mouth. “You did get cold feet.” She started away from him, but he caught her up by the wrists. “Let go!” she cried, flailing her arms and trying in vain to free herself from him. “You’re hurting me! Let go!”

  “I’ll let go if you stop fighting me and listen!” he rasped lowly in her ear, trying to quiet her. “Please, mo chailín, at least hear what I have to say for meself.”

  Catie stared up at him as her earlier thoughts came back to her. He would never. She had no doubt. She stopped struggling and finally let go of the breath she’d held since that morning, sending angry, hurt tears to race down her cheeks.

  “Please don’t cry, my love.” Sean pulled her against his chest and brushed a hand gently over her hair, wishing they weren’t standing in the middle of an alley. Thankfully, other than the cars going by on either end, they had their privacy. “You’re right,” he said softly. “I did know what that vixen wanted, but God as my witness, that isn’t why I left the bar with her. I did it for Gabriel…for revenge mostly.”

  “I don’t understand?” She sniffed.

  “Your brother told me during his visit that my pride is my enemy, and I’m starting to think he’s right. A bigger man can manage his resentment and his arrogance, but I can’t. I’ve never been able to. I tried—I swear on our marriage I did—but I couldn’t shake the bitterness that festered inside me towards Delia. When she made her desires clear to me that night, I let that bitterness get the better of me. I know my brother’s not a child, but he was emotionally vulnerable and most likely deep in his cups when she bedded him. Without caring who she hurt, Delia took what she wanted from Gabe and was happy and willing to take what she wanted from me. I know it was wrong of me, Catie, but I went with Delia Reynolds just to see the look on her face when I told her I wouldn’t have her if she were the last woman on God’s earth.”

  Dabbing at her eyes, Catie pulled out of his embrace. “You want me to believe that you walked Delia Reynolds home just so you could take some morbid pleasure in rejecting her?”

  Sean smiled weakly as he helped her dry her face with the soft pads of his thumbs, better understanding why his mother always advised him to carry a hanky. “I don’t know as I’d say morbid, but yes…that’s exactly what I want you to believe. It’s the truth, Catie. I could never be with another woman. You have to know that.”

  “I do know it.” She sniffed again. “But, Sean, two wrongs will never make a right. Because of your need to even the score with Delia, all of Savannah has been talking behind my back. Don’t you think it’s high-time your pride grew up and stopped behaving so…so juvenile?”

  He looked at her funny. “Juvenile? Me...juvenile? You do recall that you just poured a glass of water over a woman’s head in the middle of a crowded restaurant?”

  Looking sheepish, Catie glanced away then back at him. “Your pride is your failing, and my temper is mine. I’m woman enough to admit it. Maybe we both could do with a bit of growing up. Frankly, I don’t know what came over me. I can’t remember when I’ve been so enraged.”

  “Well, lass”—Sean put his shoulders back and swelled his chest—“you’ve a stallion of a man to defend. I reckon you best get used to those sort of brawls and catfights.” She started to retort, but he bent and silenced her with his mouth. He kissed her long and hard, then stopped, looked deeply into her eyes, and then kissed her again. When finally he released her, he drew her close and whispered, “I’m sorry that you have to keep muckin’ your way through your husband’s pigheaded Irish pride, and I’m even sorrier that I made you cry. Can you forgive me?”

  “I might’ve been able to forgive you”—Catie folde
d her arms and lifted her chin a degree, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth—“had you not swatted my bum.”

  So glad he’d had the good sense to marry this unusual woman, Sean threw back his head and laughed then hugged her with all his might. “You bloody well deserved a swat, and well you know it.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Tell you what, if you promise to behave and drink the water that’s given to you, I shall buy your lunch to make up.”

  “It will be difficult, but I shall try and refrain from dousing you.” Catie smiled broadly then. “Where did you park?”

  “Bloody hell!” Sean smacked his forehead with his palm, remembering his hurried dash into the tearoom. “Come, quick!” He grabbed her hand, and together they ran to the end of the alleyway, arriving in time to stand helplessly on the sidewalk and watch the Wagoneer disappear down Bull Street on the back of a tow truck. “Bloody hell,” Sean repeated.

  ***

  As they readied for bed later that night, the telephone rang. Catie put down the book she was reading and answered, “Hello.”

  “Catie, dear, it’s Hugh Middleton,” Dr. Middleton said jovially at the other end of the line.

  “Hello, Dr. Middleton,” she replied as Sean came out of the bathroom. “Sean’s right here. Can you hold the—” She paused, listening. “Yes, of course I shall tell him.” Another long pause. “All right.” Pause. “Yes, and goodnight to you as well, Dr. Middleton.”

  “What was that all about?” Sean asked, getting into bed.

  “That was Dr. Middleton,” she told him unnecessarily as she placed her book on the bedside table and turned off her lamp.

  “I sort of gathered that,” he said shortly. “What did he say?”

  “He just wanted me to tell you to be sure and wear your track clothes tomorrow. Like you did before—remember. He said you’d understand.”

  He remembered all right. Grimacing, Sean fell back on his pillow and for the umpteenth time that day, uttered, “Bloody hell.”

  “What are you all doing out at Norbury? Training for a marathon or something?”