“Why? Why is it good? Why does it matter to you? You are not acquainted with her, are you?” Thomas felt truly annoyed.
How he wished he had never given into his father’s perpetual insistence that he marry. How could it be that the best of the procession of women who had been paraded before him over the years was Lady Eleanor Barchester?
He knew that she was not the best; she was just the only one in his eyeline on the day that he had finally given in. He had no particular regard for her, but having never had any regard for any woman who was not Catherine Ambrose, he thought it mattered very little who he married in the end. And it was as simple as that. It was as unremarkable as that.
“We do not need any petty interferences in our lives, Thomas. We are to be married soon, and I am sure that your father expects you to keep sight of that. I know that he is very keen for us to have a date settled at the earliest opportunity.”
“And how do you know that?” Thomas said, knowing very well that both Eleanor and her father, the Earl of Winsford, often kept the Duke’s counsel.
He had often thought of the three of them talking together, plotting and arranging, and he had often imagined them as conspirators. No doubt there had been some nervousness at the return of Catherine Ambrose that the three of them had needed to discuss at some point. Presumably, his father would be speaking to him about it sooner rather than later. It could only be a matter of time before he was edged into a wedding date of their choosing.
“Because my father and your father are the firmest of friends,” Eleanor said in a manner which was almost boastful.
It was on the tip of Thomas’ tongue to say the truth is my father would eat your father if he thought it would do him some good, but he did not say it.
“Well, I think we have exhausted this conversation, have we not?” he said in a firm voice that was intended to put an end to it.
“I hope so,” she said significantly.
Thomas looked out of the drawing room window and could see the sun slowly sinking in the sky. Evening would soon fall, and the Earl of Winsford’s carriage would mercifully spirit Eleanor away.
Chapter 21
The day began warm and bright if a little chilly, and Catherine woke with a sense of happiness and excitement in her heart for the first time since she had been back at Barford Hall.
After much cajoling, Philip had convinced her to stay with him a little longer. Catherine had been keen to get back to Henry, finding that their two-week separation had been extraordinarily difficult. Worse still, she knew she could not use Henry as her reason for tearing back to Derbyshire.
She had been very careful in her description of Henry, not mentioning him until some days into her stay when she had been discussing in more detail the household of Ivy Manor.
It had broken her heart to do so, for her son was the most important person in the world to her, and she had wanted to speak about him from the very moment she arrived.
She had so wanted Philip to know that he had a fine nephew, a handsome boy who was clever and funny and who liked to climb trees. And, had the circumstances been a little different, Catherine knew that Philip would have been thrilled to hear the news.
And so it was that she had introduced the idea of Henry very gently, retelling the tale she had told so many times over the years of a sickly relative of her uncle who had passed away, leaving the care of their baby to Celia and Charles Topwell.
Philip had listened with interest, keen to know everything about the relations he had yet to meet. And Catherine had told him how she must return to Derbyshire to help Celia and Charles with Henry. She explained how she had acted as his governess and how much she had enjoyed teaching the young boy. The whole thing had given her a sense of purpose in life, and she had found that she was missing the boy as well as her aunt and uncle.
To make her need to return home most complete, Catherine had also furnished Philip with details of almost daily excursions to Lantern Pike and the surrounding countryside, not to mention Agnes Price, and other ladies she considered to be her friends.
In the end, Philip had excitedly told her that she might extend the invitation to Charles and Celia Topwell, for he should very much like to meet them anyway. When she had told him that they could not possibly come away without Henry, Philip had said that the boy would be more than welcome to come with them.
He wore her down in a most gentle way, not with bullying or cajoling as her father might have done in years gone by, but with hope and excitement and a deep need to know for himself the sort of life she had led in the last eight years.
If she was honest, it was rather a wonderful sort of wearing down, and a most unusual one for it was born of love and care more than anything else.
Whatever the cause and circumstances of the visit of her son to Barford Hall, Catherine was simply glad that he would be there. She had missed him more than she could say, and she did not suffer any of the old fears that they might be discovered in their tale, for it had been a story they had rehearsed and practiced for so long that it had almost become the truth.
Or a version of it, at least, for Catherine would never forget that Henry was her son, even if he never knew it himself. But she did not suffer any anxiety that any of her party would give the whole thing away.
Catherine had missed her aunt and uncle greatly, and Henry even more. How she would love to see Celia again and be able to discuss the events of the last weeks at length. In the end, Celia, Charles, and Agnes were the only ones who knew the absolute truth, the only ones with whom she could discuss every matter of her heart.
Philip was a wonderful brother, and she could not imagine a kinder or more attentive one existed in the world. But he did not have the truth of it all, even though that was far from his own doing, and she knew she could not let him into her world entirely. She thought back to when they were children and could hardly imagine a time where she would ever have thought that was possible, and yet still it had happened.
If only Celia had been there already, then Catherine could have talked through the events of the day before. She had not told Philip that she had seen Thomas out walking in the woods not far from the edge of the Barford estate, for she had not wanted him to worry.
Seeing her so downcast after the afternoon buffet at Lord Vinton’s home had clearly upset Philip, and Catherine did not want to put him through any more. Despite the fact that he was her older brother, Catherine wanted to protect him from it all.
With the knowledge that her son was on his way from Derbyshire and would soon be in her arms again, Catherine had gone out into the afternoon sunshine for a walk. She felt bright and happy and could not wait to see Henry’s happy, chubby face, and pale blue eyes.
She had been thinking about Celia and how strange it would be for her to see her own childhood home again after so many years. No doubt Celia’s memories of Barford Hall were as diverse and confusing as Catherine’s were, perhaps even more so.
And it was being so lost in thought that she had not heard or seen Thomas approaching. He appeared quite suddenly as if from nowhere, and Catherine was so startled that she shrieked.
“Good heavens, I really am sorry. Truly, I thought you had seen me,” Thomas said with his arms spread wide and his palms facing forward.
“Forgive me; I had not seen you. I was lost in thought and not concentrating at all,” Catherine said, and for a few moments, she felt amused, just as she always would have done.
It was as if time had been folded somehow, and she had slipped along a crease into the past where such a thing between them would have been funny. It took a moment or two for the last years to run after her, chase her down, and pin her beneath their crushing weight.
“So, you are just out for a walk, Catherine?” His question brought her back down to earth because he asked so tentatively.
She could not help comparing him to the Thomas she had known, the smiling, often cheeky, confident young man who spoke without any hint of caution in his
voice. They both were very different now.
“Yes, it has been so long since I walked these woods, and I am bound to say that it has not changed at all.” She smiled and wondered at his presence there.
It was on the very edge of her brother’s estate, a fair distance from the Shawcross estate and not a place she imagined as a first thought for Thomas in choosing a walk. She frowned a little as she thought about it, and it was clear that Thomas picked up on her curiosity.
“I have not been this way for many years myself. I suppose seeing you the other afternoon brought back a lot of memories, and I was riding out and thought that I would wander a little further, as it were. I hope you do not mind.”
“I do not mind at all. It is not Barford land, although I am bound to tell you that my brother would not mind in the slightest. Now that my father is dead, I think it is fair to say that you are quite safe on or near the Barford estate.” She laughed.
“Safe as long as my own father does not hear of it.” He shrugged and smiled at her broadly, returning a little to the man she remembered him being. “For we still have one party to the old feud, do we not?”
“I daresay, but is he so intense now that his adversary has gone?”
“I have not asked him, but knowing old men as I do, I should imagine that he is. When a person has been pigheaded for their entire life, I do not think it changes nearer the end. I have an awful suspicion that it simply gets worse and worse, more entrenched.” He turned to look further into the woods before looking back at her and holding out his arm for her to take. “Would you care to walk with me for a while?”
“Yes, thank you,” Catherine said, wanting that simple touch more than anything and knowing in her heart that every step she took arm in arm with him was a step further into pain.
And yet, despite her own good sense and deep understanding of the way of things, Catherine could not have walked away from him at that moment if her life depended on it. She loved him so much and knew that she always would.
She linked her arm through his, and the years were peeled away like the layers of an onion. It felt so familiar and wonderful, and it took every ounce of self-control not to lean her head on his shoulder for a moment.
“I tethered my horse on the edge of the woods. If you care to walk with me that far, my trusty steed and I will walk you back again.” He grinned, and it was as if nothing had ever changed.
Catherine knew that she ought to be thinking about his upcoming marriage to Lady Eleanor Barchester, to the pain that she would undoubtedly feel when that event finally took place. But she had had enough pain and sorrow, and if all she had in the world was a single afternoon of determined denial, a few ridiculously carefree moments with the only man she had ever loved, she was going to take it with both hands and push away the consequences at all costs.
“That sounds like a nice idea,” she agreed, and they set off along one of the narrower, less used pathways through the trees.
“Were you still a determined walker in Derbyshire?” Thomas opened up a line of conversation.
“Oh yes, and the truth is one has to be very determined to even think of setting off for a walk in the High Peak. In one direction or another, there is always a steep hill to be tackled. I must admit that I have grown quite strong in that respect and have found Hertfordshire surprisingly flat since I returned. And I am so used to an afternoon’s walking to be an effort, albeit a very pleasant one, that I cover twice as much ground here now as I used to as a much younger woman.” She laughed.
“No doubt if we were to go to Stromlyn Lake, you would race down that steep drop with ease, not to mention coming back up again. You would leave me red-faced and gasping for air.” He laughed.
Catherine laughed also, but she had not heard Stromlyn Lake mentioned for so long that it was quite startling to hear the words.
“You still go to Stromlyn Lake, Thomas?” she said quietly.
“I have not been for years,” he replied. “After you left, I used to go every day. For months and months, I went with determination, never missing my daily excursion no matter the weather.”
“And then you stopped?” Catherine felt a little pain at the idea that his daily vigil had ceased in less than a year; it was curiously insulting, even though she knew that was ridiculous.
“Yes,” he said and turned to look at her with such a pain filled expression that she drew to a halt.
“Thomas?” she said and stared into his pale blue eyes. “What is it?”
“I was on my way to Stromlyn Lake when Pierce died. I have not been able to go there since.”
“I see,” Catherine said, knowing that she had never truly forgiven Pierce Carlton for the interference which had cost her so much. “Forgive me, I was aware that your brother had passed away, but I do not know what happened.”
“We had argued, as we had done constantly since his betrayal,” Thomas began as if setting the scene for his story. “Well, Pierce did not argue, I argued. Pierce had spent month upon month apologizing to me and trying to atone for what he had done. Only I would have none of it, you see.”
“I am not surprised, and I do not think that you can blame yourself for that,” Catherine said in a harsher tone than she had intended.
The very idea of Pierce Carlton had made her suddenly cold and a little unfeeling.
“Ah, but I am afraid that it was not so simple in the end,” he went on sadly. “You see, whilst I never truly forgave it, I knew exactly why he had done it. You know as well as I do what it is to grow up in a household with a bullying, dismissive father. Well, it was no different at Shawcross Hall, and unlike me, it affected Pierce and pushed him to such lengths that would be unimaginable to another person. I am not making excuses for him, not spurious excuses at any rate, but I can tell you with certainty that what Pierce did had nothing to do with hurting us; he wanted our father’s approval. I do not even think he thought about the two of us until the consequences of his actions became horribly clear.”
“I see,” Catherine said, hoping that she was not expected to suddenly canonize Pierce Carlton and let go of the pain and hurt of the last eight years as if it had never happened.
As far as she was concerned, Pierce was guilty. It did not matter to her that they would undoubtedly have been found out in the end; she was not inclined to think in such circles at that moment. But she could see the anguish that his brother’s death still gave Thomas, and she certainly did not want to do or say anything that would hurt him.
“I could see true remorse in him for the pain he had caused us, but still I would not have it. I would not accept his apology, nor would I willingly converse with him. I treated him as if he were dead to me.”
“I am so sorry.” Catherine let her hand slide down his arm until she found his hand and gripped it.
“And on that last day, still I would not have it. I walked away from him and then set off on my horse at speed for Stromlyn Lake. His determination to have things settled between us had grown to a point that he could not ignore, and so he gave chase. He knew I would be heading to Stromlyn Lake, and he tried to cut me off by riding through the fields. But his horse threw him, and he landed badly. I saw the whole thing, and I have not been able to escape the idea that I killed him. From that day until this, I have wished that I had found it in my heart to forgive him before it was too late.”
“Oh, Thomas,” she said and finally leaned against him.
Despite her misgivings, she truly wished that things had been different for the brothers. She had never liked Pierce, but if he had been seeking redemption in the end, was she really right to think he did not deserve such a luxury?
Thomas immediately wrapped his arms around her and embraced her tightly and in silence for several minutes. Catherine knew that things had moved too quickly and in a direction that could never be supported, and yet she could not stop herself. She could not extricate herself from the embrace she had never thought she would feel again.
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 45
