* * * *
“This isn’t proper.” Mrs. Berkley tossed Catherine a scowl as the old woman marched toward the closet with a satchel in her hand. “We must get you packed immediately.”
Catherine’s heart pounded as fear climbed through her body, she grasped the older woman’s elbow as she passed. “Stop now! Don’t touch my clothes. We are not leaving.”
Lines appeared on Mrs. Berkley’s forehead, around her lips, and made crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. “Grant is dead, and you are now living with his nephews – whom I might add, are not married. If you stay any longer, your name will be tarnished. Rumors will fly through England and neither you nor your father will be able to hold your head in society. And I, for one, will not be your companion if that happens.” Her chest heaved as she planted her hands on her beefy hips.
How could Catherine stop Mrs. Berkley from packing? How could she stop her father from taking her back home? They were right. It wasn’t proper...but then again, she couldn’t leave. Since Grant died, she’d waited for Nick to proclaim his love for her to the world; to ask for her hand in marriage on bended knee. It didn’t matter that her mind told her it would never happen, she still could not leave.
Moisture stung her eyes and she turned away from Mrs. Berkley. Agony clenched Catherine’s heart. Her bottom lip trembled, so she bit it to keep it still. Blinking, she tried to hold back the tears.
“What do you wish me to do, Miss Catherine?”
A knot of emotions lodged in Catherine’s throat. What did she wish? For everyone to go away. I want to be in Nick’s loving arms. She wanted to be told her girlish dream would come true and Nick would be her husband.
She cleared her throat. “Please, Mrs. Berkley, just one more day. It’s too soon after the funeral.”
“As you wish.”
When the door clicked shut and Catherine remained the only one in the room, she allowed the tears to stream down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook in silent sobs as she clutched the bedpost, her head resting on the smooth, round oak.
If she couldn’t have Nick, how could she live? How could she go from one day to the next knowing he was courting another woman? She sniffed. Plain and simple...she couldn’t go on. And to think she’d have to go back and live with her father? Impossible! She wouldn’t live with the man who thought she killed her own mother.
She tore herself away from the post and wiped her eyes. Something had to be done. Now. She couldn’t leave the estate. She wouldn’t go! Not without the man she loved.
Straightening her shoulders, she marched to the door, yanked it open and hurried down the hall. Down the corridor, she saw Hodgson, so hurried to catch up to him. When he saw her, he smiled and gave her a hug.
“My dear, Catherine.” He rubbed his thumb underneath her eyes. “You’ve been crying again.”
She shrugged. “It seems lately I cannot control my tears. They burst forth no matter how hard I try to stop them.”
“They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.”
Catherine grinned from the verse in Psalms he quoted. How could she forget he grew up with her father and attended the same sermons her grandfather gave? “Thank you, Hodgson. I firmly believe one day I’ll reap in joy…but it’s so hard to know what will happen next in my life.”
“Nobody knows the outcome, my dear.”
She sighed heavily. “Very true.” She clutched his hand. “I’m relieved to know I shall always have your love and support.”
“Until the ends of the earth.”
“Hodgson? Have you seen Father? I really need to speak with him.”
“I haven’t. Would you like me to help you find him?”
“Thank you, but no. This is something I have to do on my own.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Determined to talk to her father, she hurried toward her destination.
* * * *
Fielding, old chap, you’re in mourning for one year. Nick glanced at his solemn reflection in the rain-splattered window. Outside, the wind blew hard against the glass. Trees bent so far they threatened to break. Heavy, dark clouds mirrored his tattered emotions.
His uncle had given him permission to take Catherine as his wife, yet society would require him to wait twelve months to do it.
It had been this morning since they laid Grant in the earth. His final resting place. Now there was a new duke...head of the estate and the shipping companies; one who wanted to go against society and make himself happy. Would he disappoint his family by wanting to follow his heart so soon after the funeral?
A knock came upon the study door, announcing two people he didn’t really want to see at this moment. Gregg and Ian walked in. Both moved to the liquor tray and fixed their drinks before taking a chair. The drab black mourning garb they were required to wear for the next year did nothing to help their dreary expressions. In fact, it made them gloomier.
During the funeral, Gregg hadn’t left Catherine’s side for one minute. How Nick had wanted to stand beside her, giving her the comfort and love he’d dreamed about for so long. But all eyes were upon him, expecting him to act proper. To behave proper...just as he’d been taught.
Nick sat back in his chair and linked his fingers over his stomach. “Have all the guests departed?”
Gregg nodded. “Catherine saw the last one to the door a couple hours ago. She retired to her room soon afterward.”
“She’s certainly been a godsend. She’s been so helpful these past several days.” Nick massaged the ache in his bruised arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Ian humphed and shifted in his chair, bringing his drink to his lips and gulping a large amount as he trying to drown out his sorrow…or was it anger?
Nick scrubbed his hand over his unshaven chin. His brother had been acting this way for a little while. So different from the way he’d been with Catherine when she first arrived. It seemed Ian had been upset with her more than necessary. Definitely, something was on his brother’s mind, and Nick would get his sibling to talk even if he had to strangle it out of him.
He leaned forward in his chair. “Ian? What ails you? Is your drink not to your satisfaction?”
Ian rolled his eyes. “My drink is fine.”
“I’m sure you’re aware,” Nick continued leaning forward, “that eventually both you and Gregg will have to give up that sin altogether.”
Ian scowled. “What sin?”
“Drinking, of course.”
Gregg chuckled and took a gulp out of his drink. Ian shook his head. “Nick, this is the way we are. I do not rather care if you’re vexed with my vise. And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your sermons for the good church members.”
Nick gave his brother a hard stare. Indeed, something was upsetting Ian. “Obviously, you have something on your mind. Would you please share it so we can know why you have been so irritated lately?”
Ian brother shot him a glare. “I don’t wish to share at this time.”
Gregg met Nick’s gaze, then switched to the younger Ian. “You’ve been acting this way for a few days, maybe even longer. Something is wrong and I think you should tell Nick what it is.”
“I agree with Gregg. Tell me what’s bothering you.” Nick pushed his fingers through his hair and leaned on the desk beside him. “Your temperament is annoying.”
Ian huffed and jumped to his feet. In two long strides, he stood in front of Nick. “Annoying? Well, what irritates me is seeing both of my brothers fawning over a woman who just may be insane.”
Nick bunched his hands. “Explain yourself before I release my temper with my fists and you find yourself on the floor.”
“That...woman,” he ground out, motioning toward the closed door, “is not in her right mind.”
Gregg bounded to his feet and quick as lightning stood in front of Ian. He grasped his younger brother’s shoulders and gave him a hard shake. “Why do you say this? You are sounding like the crazed person.”
Ian flung
out his arms, breaking the contact. “The only crazed person in this house is Catherine. Her father was right...”
Nick rose to his feet, anger seething inside him and growing with each second that passed. “What did her father say to make you believe such rubbish?”
“The colonel said his wife had been cursed with insanity and now Catherine is showing signs. He fears for our safety.”
“Augh!” Gregg paced the floor. “I cannot believe I’m hearing this. It’s utter nonsense!” He stopped in front of Ian. “Our safety? What does Colonel Martin expect Catherine to do? Harm one of us? That dainty woman doesn’t have the strength to even knock one of us to our knees and you well know it.”
Nick actually agreed with Gregg...but the fact still remained, why was Ian so adamant about this?
“Colonel Martin explained that to me,” Ian continued. “When a person has gone mad they have the strength of the devil himself. Catherine is possessed, I tell you.”
“That’s hogwash,” Gregg shouted.
“Ian.” Nick stepped closer. “Why have you suddenly turned against Catherine? Do you have proof she has gone insane?”
Ian frowned. “Not exactly...”
“Then why fling the accusations without proof?” Gregg accused, pointing a finger in Ian’s chest.
Pushing Gregg away, Ian glared. “Because she’s been seen around the people who were injured...right before they were injured, in fact.”
Gregg’s arms lifted, his fists ready to fly. Nick stood between his brothers before Gregg let his temper get away from him.
Nick narrowed his gaze on his brother. “Ian, explain yourself or I’ll do the boxing instead of Gregg.”
Ian huffed and marched toward the window, leaning against the frame. “Catherine had been with Uncle Grant in the buggy when he had his first attack. She was seen at the stables before Gregg’s saddle was cut. A few servants saw Catherine speaking to Mary hours before the maid was killed.” Over his shoulder, he pierced Nick with a stare. “And the colonel said he saw her near your carriage before you left that night. Some servants witnessed her near our uncle’s room before his last attack.”
“Good grief, Ian. Of course Catherine had been in those places...she lives here or have you forgotten?” Nick swung around, raking his fingers through his hair.
Ian glared. “Admit it, Nick. All of these so-called accidents are too coincidental.”
“What possible reason would she have to want to harm us?”
A slow chuckle started from Gregg that quickly ballooned to a roaring laugh. Nick arched a brow at his demented brother. Perhaps Gregg had been consumed with madness instead.
Gregg shook his head. “Ian, I cannot understand why you would think the worst in Catherine just because of this. You should know her better like Nick and I do.”
Ian’s eyes darkened, and Nick waited for fire to shoot out.
“And I cannot believe you. Either of you,” Ian said. “She has batted her eyelashes and put both my brothers in a trance. Why not try using your brain to think instead of your heart?”
In three strides, Nick stood in front of his brother and grasped the lapels of his jacket. He lifted him in the air and pushed him against the wall. “I ought to strangle the very life from you for saying that.”
Ian chuckled. “What’s wrong, Nick old man? Is the truth so distasteful? Does the nectar from Cat’s kisses hide reality from you?”
Nick growled and gave his brother another shake, ready to plow his fist through his sibling’s face. The soft tap on the study room door stopped Nick from doing what he wanted. He’d do it later when they were alone. Then he could pound some sense into him.
Releasing his hold, he took a deep breath to control his anger. He turned toward the door as Gregg hurried to open it.
Standing in the hallway, twisting her hands against her stomach, stood Patsy, Nick’s deceased driver’s wife. Poor woman. It’d only been a few days since her husband had died in the accident. Nobody had time to mourn for Timothy or attend his funeral.
Nick stepped to the older woman and grasped her hands. “Patsy. How are you faring?”
“I’m...slowly copin’ with my Timmy’s tragic departure.”
“Once again, you have my sympathy. If ever you need anything, let me know.”
“Your Grace? Could I speak with ya? It’s most important, I assure ya.”
He motioned his hand and she entered the room, keeping her gaze lowered. She continued to wring her hands against her middle, and now he realized she nibbled on her bottom lip so much it turned red.
After he closed the door, she met his gaze. “What is it, Patsy?”
“Timmy...” Her lips trembled and moisture gathered in her eyes.
Gregg stood beside her and patted her back gently. “Go on. What about your husband?”
Her gaze darted from Nick to his brothers then rested back on him. She licked her lips. “I had to tell ye. This couldn’t be put off a moment longer.” Her chest rose and fell with her deep breath. “Before my husband died, I think he said the name of the person responsible for the accident.”
Nick inhaled sharply. Both Gregg and Ian’s gaze snapped to his. His throat suddenly turned dry, so he swallowed. “What name did he say?”
“He said...” A tear slipped from her eye and she wiped it. “He mumbled Miss Martin’s name, Your Grace. There was more Timmy tried to say, but all that came out was Miss Martin’s… Miss Martin’s…”
Gregg hissed and scrubbed his hands over his face. Ian narrowed his glare and aimed it toward Nick. The words didn’t sink into Nick’s head as quickly. Either that, or he just couldn’t believe. He wouldn’t believe.
Nick shook his head. “You must be mistaken, Patsy. Miss Martin couldn’t possibly—”
Ian grabbed his arm and yanked him. “Nick, would you cease this doubt? All you’re doing is prolonging the inevitable.”
Tightness closed around Nick’s throat as pain speared through his chest. He stiffened his body and fisted his hands. “This does not prove a thing,” he growled.
Ian faced Patsy. “What else did he say?”
She wiped another stray tear. “Timmy didn’t say a lot. He was in and out of consciousness for a few hours before he finally died.” She sniffed. “But he kept mumblin’ the words Miss Martin, and he repeated accident. What else could I assume?”
“Exactly.” Ian swung around and crossed his arms over his chest, meeting Nick’s gaze through narrowed eyes. “What else could she conclude?” He arched his brow. “It’s what I’ve been saying all along, and it’s what her father has mentioned. That girl isn’t in her right mind. She needs to be put away in an institution before something else happens.”
Confusion pounded in Nick’s head and threatened to break his skull. He squeezed his eyes closed. I need a strong drink. Yet he hadn’t touched the poison in several years. There was no way he would believe this nonsense. Foolishness – all of it!
Taking a refreshing breath, he looked at Patsy. “Is this all you have for me?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He walked her to the door and let her out. After it clicked closed, Gregg and Ian began squawking – shouting – talking about things that didn’t register in Nick’s brain. He didn’t want the words to. All he could think about was finding Catherine and holding her. Promising her everything would be all right. He wouldn’t let Ian’s ranting go any further than the study.
The allegations were too...preposterous. Where they pointing the finger just because she wasn’t part of their class? He didn’t think that was the situation, yet the hammering in his head wouldn’t let him think straight. He clamped his hands over his ears, holding the throb from combusting. The voices of his brothers sounded a crescendo. “Cease this insanity,” he shouted.
Turning, he peeled his eyes open. Both brothers stared at him with wide expressions. Ian’s face was still drawn in a scowl, and Gregg’s saddened look tore at his heart. Obviously, Gregg held strong feelings for C
atherine as well. Perhaps the two of them could put their heads together to discover why the blame had been aimed at her.
Ragged breaths only made his chest ache that much more. He lowered his hands to his sides. “If you two want to argue, do it without me. I’ll be retiring to my room. I don’t wish any company for the remainder of the evening. Is this understood?”
Gregg nodded. Ian only arched a brow.
He turned and hurried out of the study toward his bedchambers. Agony clenched in his chest, threatening to choke him. Right now all he needed was Catherine.
And nothing would stop him this time.
* * * *
Catherine snapped alert, pinning her gaze on the opened window in her room. The moon floated high in the sky. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and lifted to a sitting position. Around her, the room spun and she braced her hands on the mattress. Thickness clouded her head and she gulped in deep breaths to clear her mind.
Running her hands along her bodice, she realized she hadn’t changed into her nightgown. Her hands stilled. How did she get in her bed? She didn’t remember even retiring. The last thing she remembered was setting out in search of her father. She recalled looking inside rooms, but the harder she tried to remember past that, her mind fogged.
After the spinning in her head slowed, she scooted to the edge of the bed and slid her feet to the floor. As she stood, the room tilted again, and she swayed, reaching for the bed to steady her.
What is happening? The last time she’d felt this bad was the morning she found her mother dead. Although this spinning feeling has been with her off and on since she came to the Fielding estate.
Groaning, she massaged her head, hoping to make the memories disappear. She’d only been really ill a few times in her life, but this went beyond anything she’d experienced. It drugged her body to near exhaustion.
She rolled her head on her shoulders, wishing her body didn’t ache as if she’d been in bed for days. In fact, a few places felt bruises and beaten. Even her skin chafed.
In the room, a noise broke the silence. Catching her breath, she searched through the shadows dancing in the corners of her chambers, her heart picking up rhythm. Someone sighed. But it wasn’t just any sigh. Nick’s sigh and his alone had always made her heart flutter.
Love Me Always Page 21
