Echoes of Pemberley

by Cynthia Ingram Hensley

  The moon was waning but bright enough for Sean to see his adversary’s face. A sneering smile showed the young man’s white teeth in the grey darkness. Apparently he was amused by Sean’s comment. “Well, that’s the nice thing about being rich,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “You really don’t have much need for manners.”

  “Then you must be a man of wealth,” Sean countered, growing tired of the conversation. “Because when it comes to manners you certainly have none.” He started to leave, but the young man wasn’t finished.

  “Ulster, eh, so tell me, Paddy, are you Catholic scum or loyal to your Queen?”

  Sean spun about and took a couple of hard steps in the Englishman’s direction. “My religion and my loyalties are none of your bloody concern.”

  “Calm down, Paddy. I only asked because I noticed that you enjoy the company of Catie Darcy.”

  Sean’s fists balled but he forced them to remain at his sides. “Don’t say her name,” he murmured low and hoarsely, taking another step forward.

  The young man moved back, almost into the arbor, clearly unsure of his chances if the altercation came to blows. “I was just going to offer you some friendly advice, mate.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Sean took a deep, calming breath, which seemed to encourage the young man to continue.

  “You see, Paddy, that brother of hers will never approve of her going to the stables to fetch her gentleman friends. It matters not how much she fancies you; big brother makes the decisions for her.”

  “Humph,” Sean uttered spitefully. “That only tells me how very little you know of Catie. She is strong-minded and strong-willed and very capable of making her own decisions.”

  “Now that’s where you are wrong, Paddy. Strong-willed she may be, but old Mr. Darcy made sure if anything ever happened to him, his son would have complete and absolute control over his sister. By way of her money,” he said the latter in a whispered voice as if it were a well-kept secret. “You see, Catie Darcy is to inherit a fortune, but not until she is twenty-five. Until then, brother Bennet holds her purse strings, and she’ll not see a penny that hasn’t passed through his hands first.” He grinned meanly. “I guess her daddy wanted to deter any youthful impulsivity in his absence. You know, like dallying around with stable workers and no-good Irishmen living on the English dole.”

  Sean could feel his pulse quicken as he drew himself up and squared his shoulders for battle. His balled fists clenched tighter, so tight his nails dug into his palms, but then he turned and walked away. He wanted more than anything to punch the boy in the mouth, but of course he couldn’t. For the sake of his Aunt Rose, he had to keep his cool. Any trouble caused by him could and probably would put her in a bad light with the Darcys. He didn’t want to be the cause of problems for her. There was a parting remark from the arbor, but Sean was too caught up in his thoughts to hear it.

  His mind raced as he walked back to the cottage. It occurred to Sean that his presence at the party had been the hushed talk of the afternoon, ripe gossip like the man who married his nanny. Catie in his company had been noticed, and was most likely the reason Mr. Darcy walked over and took his sister from Sean’s side. He wasn’t good enough for Catie Darcy, not as far as her brother was concerned. Of course Sean knew that already. Bennet Darcy would prefer someone with wealth, someone well-bred. Someone — Sean shuddered at the thought of it — someone like the blackguard Audrey Tillman was wresting off her. This made Sean sick. He had thought Mr. Darcy to be a man of character, a man Sean respected.

  At the stables several weeks earlier, Mr. Darcy had encouraged Sean to continue his education, assuring him his father would eventually respect him for it. He even increased Sean’s wages for his work with Thunder, securing the last of the funds Sean needed for tuition. Feeling he had earned Mr. Darcy’s esteem, Sean had considered speaking to him about Catie and asking his permission to write to her or call once he was no longer an employee of the estate. Clearly that would have been foolish. He was just a charity case to Bennet Darcy. Sean stopped before reaching his door and cast his eyes to the black heavens. He had to get her off his mind and out of his heart. She could never be his, no matter how much he wanted her.

  Flinging back the door, Sean couldn’t open the bottle of aspirin fast enough. Cupping his hand under the tap, he quickly washed down three little white pills. Then, for good measure, he popped another in his mouth and washed down a fourth just as a ground shaking explosion made him jump. “Fireworks, Seany, stop being so jumpy, man,” he said to himself and stepped outside to watch.

  By the third bang, Sean saw someone approaching and sighed hard as soon as he was able to distinguish his visitor. “Catie.” His tone was annoyed. “What are you doing down here?”

  When she came into the yellow light of the small porch lamp, he could see her broad, dimpled smile. God she’s beautiful tonight, he thought. Sean’s heart had thumped so hard in his chest when he first saw her that afternoon — he could have counted the beats through his shirt.

  “You left without saying goodbye,” she said. “I was just wondering if everything is all right.”

  “Everything is fine. I just had a headache and came down to take some aspirin. You need to go back; your brother will be looking for you.”

  “No.” Catie sat down next to him on the stoop. “He’s watching the fireworks with the twins and Sarah. So . . . did you enjoy yourself?”

  The sky lit again before he could answer, and they both looked up into the bright red and blue explosion.

  “I guess,” he said passively. “I’ve certainly been to more lively festivities, but the fireworks are a nice touch.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes as the sky continued to light and rumble. Catie watched him rather than the show. She watched the bright, colorful explosions spread over his blue eyes and enjoyed his faint smile as they fizzled and dropped from the black smoky heavens.

  “What!” Sean exclaimed laughingly, taking notice of her inattentiveness.

  Slowly, tenderly, awkwardly, Catie leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. Sean grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close to him, almost into him. Then his grip tightened and, with every bit of will he had, he pushed her away.

  “Catie, what are you doing?” He stood abruptly and stepped away from her.

  “I’m sorry. I . . . I like you, Sean. I . . . I th-thought you felt the same way,” she stammered nervously.

  Sean closed his eyes and turned away. He couldn’t bear to see her face. “You’re wrong, Catie. I do not feel the same way. I came here to give you riding lessons . . . nothing else. I’m truly sorry if I’ve said or done something to make you think otherwise.”

  “Nothing else! I thought we were at the very least friends, Sean.” She came to her feet. “You’re sorry if you said or did something? What about all those nights down by the pond and last week at the river? What was that about?”

  Sean’s face tightened as the last firework fizzled and enveloped them in darkness. “Go back, Catie,” he said evenly. “Go back before someone comes looking for you. It’s not proper for you to be here.”

  “But . . . Sean.” There was a catch in her voice that caused a cold stab in his stomach.

  “Go back, Catie!” he swung around and shouted, his voice hoarse with pain and anger. “Go now, damn it, or I shall drag you back myself!”

  The yellow lamp washed her face just slightly, but enough, enough to see how much he had injured her. “Catie,” he whispered, but it was too late. The night, the trees and shrubs and shadows had already swallowed her departing form.

  * * *

  Like a volcano, the swell in her chest burst suddenly, forcing Catie into a thicket of rhododendron. She could hear voices and laughter all around her, restricting her release to a squeezing, binding silence. Her chest tingled with sparks and heat like the fireworks, making her want to wail, moan, and scream — but she couldn’t. She wished she could just run to her room, but the gue
sts were leaving and her absence would be questioned. It took several minutes, but she was finally composed enough to make another brief appearance. Drying her eyes with her lace-gloved hands, Catie took a deep breath and returned to the dwindling party.

  Her plan was to find Rose and feign illness, knowing Rose would insist she go straight to bed. She spotted her, only a few steps away. Thank God.

  “Cate, I have been looking everywhere for you.” Aiden Hirst was suddenly upon her, blocking her path to Rose.

  “You have? Why?”

  He smiled. “I was hoping to finish our conversation, and I wanted to invite you to my birthday party. It’s the first weekend in October. My uncle and aunt are throwing the bash, and I hear they’ve hired a pretty good band.”

  Catie’s head was swimming. Why can’t he just leave me alone? “I can’t give you an answer, Aiden,” she responded politely, glancing longingly at Rose. “I’ll have to speak with my brother first. Just send ’round the invitation, all right?”

  “Why not ask him now?” Aiden said, taking her by the arm and marching her over to where Ben and Sarah were seeing their guests out.

  Catie’s precarious emotional state left her incapable of protest. She felt detached as she let him lead her, hoping Ben would decline the invitation for her.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy,” Aiden said enthusiastically.

  “Aiden,” Sarah said warmly, still possessing her hostess air. “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself this evening?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Darcy, very much so, but I’d like to ask a favor of you and Mr. Darcy.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “I’ve invited Cate to my birthday party on the first Saturday in October, and we’ve come to ask your permission.”

  Catie searched Ben’s face for his usual vigilance on her behalf, but he simply smiled at her and granted Aiden’s request, “Of course she may attend. I’m sure she looks forward to it.”

  “Great!” Aiden turned back to Catie, brimming with excitement. “I’ll be in the country for a few more days. I’d like to see you again.”

  Catie simply nodded. She didn’t know what else to do.

  It was then that Sarah noticed the pallor in Catie’s complexion, the emptiness in her expression. She waited anxiously while Aiden finished saying his goodbyes and then asked, “Catie, is something the matter? You look as if you aren’t well.”

  “Actually, I’m not feeling well. I’m rather light-headed. I think I need to lie down.”

  “Have you eaten anything this afternoon?” Ben asked worriedly, taking a gentle hold of her elbow.

  “No, with all the excitement I must have forgotten. Sorry.” She glanced timidly at him, grateful to be given a reason to be excused.

  “It’s all right,” he said in a comforting whisper. “Let’s get you to Rose.”

  * * *

  Out of her dress and into her nightgown, Catie waited with Rose for a tray to be brought to her room. When it came, Rose stood over her like a prison guard until she drank all of the orange juice and ate the small snack. “Into bed with you now.” Rose tucked her tightly under the covers as Catie smiled faintly to hide her breaking heart. “Don’t smile at me, missy. I’ll serve you a proper tongue-lashing for neglecting your nourishment in the morning. I’m too tired tonight.”

  “Yes, Nan,” Catie replied softly as tears prickled at her eyes.

  Rose’s brow furrowed with concern. “Are you all right, child? You look as though you might cry.”

  “Just tired,” she whispered.

  “All right.” Rose smiled. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

  Catie rolled onto her side to hide her tears and, after a few minutes, pretended to be asleep. Rose patted her hip affectionately, walked softly across the room, and quietly closed the door.

  As soon as she was alone, Catie scooted out from the covers and went to her favorite perch in the window. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she stared out into the night, listening to the sounds of the fading party drifting up from the garden.

  * * *

  Covering her head to escape the bright light that suddenly filled her room, Catie groaned at Rose who had pulled the curtains open. Her head ached, and her eyes were still puffy from crying.

  “Are you going to sleep all day, child?” Rose stood over her.

  “No,” came the muffled reply from under the covers.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I have some news for you, dear. Sean had to leave this morning. He wanted to say goodbye but was in a rush to get home. He received a call from his father very early, expressing an urgent need for his return. I am not sure of the particulars, but it had something to do with their horse farm.” Rose was now sitting next to the small mound that was Catie.

  In the safety of cover and darkness, Catie eyes instantly streamed again as she held tight to her bedcovers to keep them from being pulled away. He’s gone. He’s really gone. It was with skilled control that she spoke through her sorrow. “I’m not feeling well, Rose. I must have a touch of something. Please just leave me for a while longer.”

  “I’ll do no such thing!” Rose demanded, tugging at the blankets. “Now come out immediately and let me feel your head.”

  Left with no alternative, Catie sat up, exposing her tears and blotchy red face.

  Rose immediately took Catie into her arms. “What is it, Catherine? Tell me, love; tell Nan!”

  “I can’t!” she sobbed. Had it been any other man in the world, Catie would have latched onto Rose and cried her heart out — spilled her soul — but not Sean. She couldn’t tell Rose. “Please, Nan . . . please d-don’t make me,” Catie pleaded. “Please leave me.”

  “Shhhh, child.” Rose pulled her tighter, her heart now breaking as well. She knew. She had seen Sean that morning, and he wasn’t faring much better. “Stay in your bed and rest. I shall have tea and toast sent up to you directly.” Rose kissed her and left.

  A few minutes later, there was another knock on Catie’s door. “I’ll be out later!” she called, but Sarah entered anyway.

  “I know what’s upsetting you,” Sarah said, approaching the bed and sitting down. “Do you want to talk about it?” Remaining silent, Catie looked at her with evident skepticism. Sarah went on. “Catie, I know your feelings for Sean have grown beyond friendship, and his leaving so suddenly has grieved you tremendously.”

  Catie’s eyes widened with concern. “Are you going to tell Ben?”

  “No.” Sarah shook her head compassionately. “It is my belief that the fewer people who partake in a young girl’s first broken heart, the better.” She smiled. “Especially where that gender is concerned.”

  Catie’s throat tightened. She hadn’t sought comfort; she was used to soothing her own pain. But when Sarah’s arms opened to her, she fell into the solidness of her bosom. “Oh, Sarah,” she cried, “I loved him.”

  “I know.” Sarah stroked her hair.

  “No.” Catie shook her head. “I really loved him! I know you think I’m too young to know what love is, but I do know! I do, Sarah!”

  Sarah felt a sudden innate feminine understanding and wrapped the younger woman tightly in her arms. “Let it out, Catie. I’m holding you, dear . . . just let it out.”

  Snug in Sarah’s embrace, Catie unburdened her shattered heart and wept for a long time.

  * * *

  In her last weeks of holiday, Catie made every effort not to mope around the house. Sarah was ever ready with a reassuring smile, and Rose fussed much less when she picked at her food. With her improved riding skills, Ben now allowed her to take Chloe out alone, and she had enjoyed several long afternoons of solitude by the river, thinking of Mary Howell’s summer romance — as well as her own.

  As promised, Aiden Hirst dropped by a couple of days after the garden party and stayed for dinner. Although she was polite, Catie tried fervently to discourage his attentions, but unfortunately, her efforts
failed.

  “I want to see you again soon,” he had said when she walked him out.

  “I don’t know, Aiden. I’m back at Davenport next week,” she responded tactfully as she opened the door, willing his departure.

  He smiled and brushed a stray hair from her face. “Leave it to me. I shall work something out . . . you’ll see.”

  She sincerely hoped he wouldn’t.

  Time moved rapidly, yet somehow drearily and monotonously, but eventually Catie was packing to return to Davenport. Occupied with her task, she started at a soft knock at her door.

  “Come in,” she called.

  The door opened, and Ben stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Almost finished?”

  “Yes, sixth form, finally.” She smiled.

  “Sixth form?” he repeated, his look incredulous.

  “Yes, Ben, you knew that.”

  “Ah, yes, of course . . . I knew that.” He paused, looking at her. “The . . . uh . . . time has moved quickly, eh?”

  Catie shrugged. “Not really.”

  “No, I guess not,” he said quietly. “Anyway, I wanted to give this to you. I think she would have wanted you to have it.” He held out Mary’s diary.

  Hesitantly, Catie took it from his hand. “Thank you.”

  “Have you read that diary?”

  Trying hard not to visibly cringe, for she could think only of Mary’s overly explicit writings, Catie blushed and hesitated. “Um . . . ”

  “It’s okay, Sis.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you’ve read it.”

  “You are?” She finally looked at him.

  “Yes.” Ben put a hand on her shoulder. “Catie, Mary Darcy was young, beautiful, and heiress to a fortune. It’s what made her vulnerable to a man like Arthur Howell. Mind that you heed the valuable lessons that diary has to offer. Not every man is what he claims to be, dearest.”

  Catie nodded softly as Ben gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Well, I’ll not disrupt your packing further.”

  “Bennet,” she called after him as he crossed the room.