“Is he all right?”
“He will be.” Sarah smiled. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, so Sarah patted her arm and started to walk away. “Sarah,” Catie stopped her. “Uncle Horace?”
“He’s been with us constantly the last few days, and a great help and comfort he has been, I might add.”
“Do you think . . . ” Catie hesitated.
“I know,” Sarah replied with smiling conviction.
Catie nodded again. “That’s good.”
Chapter 20
“Not right now,” must have meant not today, not tomorrow, or the next day either. Catie’s eagerness to know what had happened in London sat too long, like bitter, overly steeped tea. She told herself that she didn’t even care any longer, but that wasn’t the truth. She did want to know, but evidently Ben wasn’t going to tell her. All summer it seemed, brother and sister had been at odds over something, as if they had been slowly climbing opposite peaks and now stood high and at such a distance, they might never meet again in the valley below. He was seemingly unwilling to take even a step in her direction, and she was giving him his space as Sarah had advised. So much space you could hear an echo between them.
By Friday evening, even Sarah, who had the patience of Job when it came to her family, was losing her usual fortitude. The time for her to implement some clever scheme had come.
It was shortly after the boys had gone to bed that Catie stood to excuse herself for the evening. “I think I’ll turn in early tonight,” she declared through a fake yawn.
“That’s a good idea, dear. You shall need your rest,” Sarah replied.
“Rest? Rest for what?”
“To practice your galloping tomorrow,” Sarah stated with sureness as if it had been planned for weeks. “Your brother will take you out to practice after lunch.”
With an abrupt snap, Ben’s head flew up from his newspaper. “Sarah, I am very busy tomorrow. The garden party is on Sunday, and I’ll be needed here.” He cast a wary glance at Catie. “And anyway, why the sudden urgency?”
“I am sure the setup will go just as smooth, if not smoother, without all of your grandiose supervision and finger pointing,” Sarah said. “And . . . seeing that you refuse to allow her to ride alone, it is you who must take her to practice.” She skillfully raised her hammer and with one sharp blow drove in the last nail. “I was speaking with Sean Kelly in the kitchen earlier today and he claims he has never seen such reluctance in a student. He thinks our Catie may just be incapable of galloping.”
“Incapable!” Ben exclaimed. “I’ll have him know that a Darcy isn’t incapable of anything, at least not when it comes to horsemanship.”
“Yes, darling, that is exactly what I told him, and therein lays the urgency. Sean will only be here another week.”
Catie listened to the exchange with quiet alarm, trying in vain to catch Sarah’s eye with an expressive plea. What is she thinking? The man has hardly strung three words together the last few days.
“Incapable . . . Catherine, be dressed and ready to ride after breakfast. We shall settle this matter early. Grandiose or not I will be overseeing the setup tomorrow afternoon.” Ben shot Sarah a daring look.
“But . . . I . . . ” Catie fumbled for a way out, but he cut her off.
“And you might as well leave all of that reluctance here. There’ll be no need for any of that.”
Sighing huffily, because that was all she could think to do, Catie turned and left.
“Incapable,” he scoffed one last time as he shot Sarah another look and snapped open his newspaper. “Indeed.”
Sarah smiled.
“Gerrl,” Catie tried mimicking Sean’s accent to the voiceless shadows of her room. “You’re a very pretty gerrl.” She blew out a big breath and turned on to her side. The summer had gone by so quickly, the long afternoons with Sean, the nights she tempted fate and met him at the pond, that moment by the river.
Lying there in the dark of her room, Catie began to feel like the past few weeks were a dream that may or may not have happened. From her bed she stared out of the large window. The wind was still and the stars hidden. Was she reluctant? She most definitely wasn’t afraid. So why was she crying?
* * *
Sarah’s pregnancy had her up all hours of the night. At five the next morning, she was wide awake and fighting a nagging motherly instinct that something was wrong. Not a completely uncommon occurrence for her, but profoundly worsened by the growing life inside of her. By five-thirty the feeling had not left her, so she resolved to appease it in order to get some sleep.
Easing herself up so as not to disturb Ben, Sarah crept softly out of the room and down the corridor. Pemberley’s centuries-old floorboards had a tendency to cry out at the first early morning riser who dared cross them.
Within seconds she was standing at the foot of Geoffrey and George’s beds, smiling and relieved. Their doll-like faces were serene in the depths of their dreams . . . just as she had presumed. For fear of waking them prematurely, she fought the motherly urge to kiss and tuck and instead stepped quietly out of the room. Before returning to the warmth of her bed, on a whim, she walked the long length of the hall and gently pushed open Catie’s door. The first trickle of early dawn was beginning to leak a grey hue into the valley, lighting Catie’s room just enough to reveal an empty bed.
Trying to control the panic that was quickly overtaking her senses, Sarah rushed back to wake Ben, letting the floorboards cry at will. “Bennet!” she cried, shaking him firmly “Bennet, wake up!”
“What is it? What’s the matter?” he asked groggily, not opening his eyes.
“It’s Catie. She’s not in her room. She’s missing, Ben!” She emphasized the missing to startle him into understanding.
His eyes popped open. “What do you mean missing?”
“She’s not in her room.”
“Have you checked the house?” he asked, clumsily trying to pull on his trousers.
“I came straight to wake you. I have a bad feeling, Ben. It’s five-thirty in the morning. Where else would she be?”
A quick search of the house turned up nothing, so they woke Rose and dressed to search the grounds. A low, thick fog greeted them as they rushed down the front steps, and Sarah touched her husband’s arm. “I don’t like this, Ben.”
He put a hand over hers. “There has to be a logical explanation. Look.” He pointed to the carriage house where Catie’s bicycle leaned against the garage door, slightly obscured by the mist. “If she came out of the house, she must be on foot.”
“What about the stables? Maybe she took Chloe out?”
“No.” He shook his head. “From the first time I lifted her into a saddle, I’ve warned her never to ride alone. She knows better.” Sarah saw a subtle but definitely budding doubt in Ben’s expression as he rubbed wearily at the back of his neck. “Then again,” he amended, “it’s better that we should look than not.”
Sarah had to double step to keep up with her husband’s long, hard strides, but she could see the worry lines creasing his brow and didn’t request that he slow his pace. At the end of the path, they saw the stable door was open and a dim light shone out through the heavy fog. “Thank God,” Ben murmured and ran across the stable yard, yelling, “Catherine!”
“Mr. Darcy?” Sean stood and turned just as Ben came in the door.
“What are you doing here this early in the morning?” Ben asked, surprised and firmer than was necessary.
“Wrapping Thunder’s legs for his morning exercise.” He pointed to the animal’s partially wrapped leg as if to verify. “Is something the matter, sir?” Without answering, Ben hurried past him, so Sean looked to Mrs. Darcy for an explanation.
“We can’t find Catie,” Sarah told him. “Have you seen her this morning?”
“Chloe’s gone!” Ben called out before Sean could respond. “Sarah, go back to the house. I’ll find her.”
“No, Ben, I’m coming with you.�
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Ben was already leading Geronimo from his stall but paused long enough to give his wife a calculating glance. “Horseback — in this fog and in your condition? No, Sarah, I’ll not have it, and I haven’t the time to quarrel with you. So please, do as I say and go back to the house.”
“I’ll go, Mrs. Darcy,” Sean offered, already gathering tack.
Sarah thanked him and stood by feeling utterly useless and underfoot watching the men saddle their horses. “Oh, do hurry,” she said anxiously for lack of anything constructive to do.
First to mount, Ben instructed Sean to fetch the two-way radios out of the tack room. “If you see her, radio me immediately,” he advised firmly.
Sean couldn’t tell whether Mr. Darcy was more afraid or angry. Probably a bit of both, he surmised, like himself. “Yes, sir.” He mounted and rode out of the stable with a look of unreserved determination that took Sarah by surprise.
She had been aware for some time that Catie had developed a schoolgirl fancy for her handsome riding instructor, but it had never occurred to her until now that young Sean Kelly might have reciprocated those feelings.
“Don’t worry, Sarah.” Ben stopped on his way out of the stable. “We’ll find her directly. Now go to the house where it’s warm.”
She nodded soberly and watched as Ben and Sean rode off in opposite directions.
Ben had not gone far when he brought Geronimo to a halt and looked back over his shoulder. It suddenly occurred to him that the young Irishman might have a better idea of where Catie was than he. “Damn and blast,” he said guiltily to himself. He had been so consumed with his own bloody pride that Catie’s own brother and guardian, the only person she had left in the world, had no idea where she was going — or why. He turned Geronimo about and kicked him hard in the flanks.
* * *
Sean thought of Luas, his sorrel-colored Irish Hunter back home as he pressed the good-natured but slow gelding that had been provided for him. Frustrated, Sean pulled a branch from a passing tree and switched the horse’s hide for encouragement.
Luas, the Irish Gaelic word for speed, was a gift from his father on Sean’s thirteenth birthday. “You’re a man now, Seany,” Seamus Kelly had said as he gave his son’s back a hearty slap. Sean remembered digging his toes deep into his shoes and using all his might to keep his footing. He didn’t want to stumble in front of his da.
Sean had trained Luas himself and had often wondered how his Irish Sport horse would match up against Mr. Darcy’s Geronimo in a race. He proudly wagered that even if Luas didn’t win, he would surely give the thoroughbred a fitting competition. That morning, however, he needed Luas’ agility and speed to get to Catie, and he knew Luas would get him there fast.
Sean knew she was at the flats trying to gallop, and he was to blame. He had been harder than usual on Catie the last few days because of her stubborn refusal to let her horse run. If she was hurt, he would never forgive himself. He had pushed her — pushed her to overcome whatever she was holding in. Maybe he had pushed too far. What was he thinking? Catie was young and naïve, and although his years on her were but a few, Sean was wiser, and he understood the world better than she did. He knew she was falling in love with him, but their families, their backgrounds, their worlds were so different that no amount of fondness, affection . . . or love for that matter could ever make them right for each other.
Descending down into the lowlands by the river, Sean rode out of the fog. The mist hung over the fields like the earth’s ceiling, making him feel as if he was atop one of the county’s highest peaks. He gave a grateful sigh of relief at the sight of her. She was safe, sitting atop Chloe and as hesitant as she had been all summer.
The sound of beating hooves caused her to turn slowly, clearly not expecting anyone. As she came into focus his heart gave a hard thump, and he had to remind himself to breathe. Her face, still bearing a bit of puffiness from sleep, told of her youth. Her lips and cheeks were rosy red from the chill of the morning and looked as if they had been painted on her soft, fair skin. She had the appearance of a beautiful ghostly child surrounded by the thickness of the morning around her. “Keep your senses, Seany!” he reminded himself.
When she recognized the approaching rider, her eyes lit, and a sweet tender smile spread across her face so broadly that it dimpled her cheeks. Her obvious delight in seeing him caused the knot in his heart to tighten. While his first impulse was to be cross with her for going out alone in the fog, he couldn’t help but smile back.
“Sean!” she called out as he neared. “What are you doing here?”
“Me? Catie Darcy, I’ve a good mind to — ” He stopped. There in her eyes was that damned sorrow he’d seen so many times before. She wasn’t just being reckless by riding alone in such weather. There was something else. There had always been something else, but try as he might Sean had been unable to put his finger on it. “Why are you out here, Catie?” he asked gently, hoping to find the answer that had escaped him all summer.
She shrugged and gazed down the long, grassy field as Chloe pranced about underneath her.
“She wants to run.” He moved closer to her. “She knows that’s why you brought her here.”
“I know,” she said so softly it was almost a whisper.
“Then let her. She’s waiting for you. She won’t go until you tell her it’s okay. You have all the power, Catie.”
To calm the anxious horse, Catie reached out and patted Chloe’s neck. “Easy girl.” Then she looked at him and asked, “Will you run with me?”
“If you’d like.” He eased his horse alongside Chloe. “But you must start.”
She nodded, her eyes fixed on the land that lay out in front of her, but Catie’s hesitation did not ebb. “I am not afraid, Sean. You were right . . . what you said at the cemetery. I am more like my father when it comes to seeking adventure. It isn’t fear.”
“Then what . . . what is it?”
She released a shuddered breath. “I’ve been awake all night trying to figure that out. All I know is . . . I must . . . ” A burst of tears strangled her words, and she buried her face in the crook of her arm to hide her emotion.
Sean reached out and clutched her shoulder. “God, Catie, what is it? What’s the matter?” She sniffed but didn’t answer. “Come, lass, you need to go home. Your family is looking for you.”
Tears streaming, Catie turned to him. “Looking for me? My brother is looking for me?”
“Yes. They’re worried about you.”
“No, Sean, I refuse to leave. Not until I do this, I must do this.”
“Then stop all the bloody theatrics and do it,” said a deep voice from behind them. The two had been so caught up they hadn’t heard Ben draw near but turned with equal swiftness to the sound of his voice.
“Well . . . what’s it going to be, Catherine? Are you going to cry about it or are you going to do it?” Ben asked.
Sean looked back at Catie. Her gleaming eyes showed clear apprehension in meeting her brother’s, and Sean understood. He above all others understood. Sean Kelly was well versed in the pains of disapproval from the one person in the world from whom you needed approval. He understood perfectly. She had slipped back to the stables that day eight years ago for him, for her brother. She had hoped to impress him, please him when grief had consumed their hearts. This was between brother and sister, it always had been. Sean moved his horse away from Catie’s side as he glanced back at Ben.
“Mr. Darcy, she wants someone to run alongside her. I believe she would prefer it be you.”
Ben urged Geronimo forward and looked down into his sister’s wet face. “I’m not so sure she will like my instruction. She’s well aware of my expectations.” Ben gave his sister his usual brotherly wink. “Is that what you want, Sis? Do you want your brother to gallop with you?”
Catie finally let her eyes meet his. “I would.”
“All right, but there will be no more of this crying!” Ben stuck up an adamant finger
. “And none of this reluctance I’ve been hearing about.” He shook his head. “You’re a Darcy born if I ever saw one, Catherine. And we Darcys are anything but reluctant.” He gave Sean Kelly a sidelong glance and straightened himself tall in his saddle. “Now then, there will be no reining in, and you will maintain your position. Do I make myself clear?”
Now beaming, Catie squared her shoulders soldier-like and shouted, “Aye, sir!”
Sean chuckled and Ben shot him another glance, sharper than before, and continued his instructions. “And as for your seat, you must — ”
“Tch, tch.” Two loud clicks stopped him mid-sentence as Catie tore off running across the grasslands.
Staring at Chloe’s hindquarters, Ben heard young Kelly chuckling again. “Beg pardon, Mr. Darcy, but it seems you’ve lost your student.” Grinning widely, Sean gestured down field.
“Yes, Sean, thank you,” Ben acknowledged and kicked Geronimo into a fast gallop.
“You’re welcome, sir,” Sean called out as he watched the thoroughbred quickly make up the distance. Like her brother, Catie Darcy was one with her horse, rider and animal working in perfect harmony as they galloped solidly and smoothly down field. Sean knew she could do it. The girl had the build of a rider; it was in her blood. He watched for another moment and then turned his horse and headed back to the stables alone.
When Catie reached the end of her run, she let out a proud whoop and turned Chloe about so fast she was nearly jostled from her saddle.
“Be careful, Catie,” Ben cautioned.
“But . . . where’s Sean?” she said, squinting into the bright break of day burning through the mist. “Did he not see me? Where did he go?”
“He saw you,” Ben confirmed, as he dismounted and took hold of Chloe to steady the horse. “Dismount, Catie; you and I need to talk.”
Catie gave the field she had just crossed another victorious gaze. Then, swinging a leg over, she carefully navigated the long slide to the ground. Ben left the horses to graze on the sweet, dew-soaked grass as they walked toward the river. He stopped beside a large flat tree stump. “Sit down, Sis.”
Echoes of Pemberley Page 23
