It was all very well to have sailed along on a cloud of joy, but not very practical. There would be a lifetime of joy ahead of him married to Catherine, and he did not really need to indulge himself now.
Of course, the thought that he would be immediately disinherited had given him pause for thought and made him a little reticent to have the conversation he knew he must have. For one thing, he would need to arrange so much in advance. He would have to see what little money he did have to his own name and make sure it was untouchable before he made a move of any kind.
And, of course, he would have to find them somewhere to live. They had not even discussed this matter, and he did not know if they would be staying in Hertfordshire or if she would insist on going back to Derbyshire.
So far, Catherine had not seemed as if she would settle back in Hertfordshire. She had already told him how she had come to love Derbyshire, not to mention the aunt and uncle she had grown so attached to. There was even the young ward, Henry. Catherine had acted as his governess and would undoubtedly miss him too.
Perhaps he should have been a little more practical in his approach at Stromlyn Lake, but he had been so overcome with the old feelings of love and excitement that practicality could go hang itself. All he could focus on was her beautiful face, her almond-shaped eyes, and the full and rosy lips he had spent much of the remainder of that afternoon kissing.
“So, we must set a date for this ball.” Eleanor’s clipped tones disrupted him from happier thoughts and annoyed him immensely.
“Indeed,” Thomas said flatly.
“I think it should be sooner rather than later,” Eleanor went on.
“Quite so, my dear,” her father chimed in.
“Let us say four weeks from Saturday,” the Duke added, his tone less blustering and hectoring than it had been.
Once again, Thomas could feel the world moving on too fast, the wheels set in motion for things that seemed out of his control.
“That would give us time to make all the arrangements,” Eleanor said, and her voice dripped self-satisfaction.
“What arrangements?” Thomas looked at her fully for the first time that day.
He had never really paid her much heed; he knew that. And she had a certain obvious beauty, that much was true. But he had never realized quite how angular her features were when she was scheming. And she was most certainly scheming now; working everything out to her own best advantage.
“I shall need four weeks to have my gown made for a start,” she went on.
“Wedding gown?” Thomas said and was as perplexed as he sounded.
“No, silly. My gown for the ball. I cannot have my engagement announced in an old gown.”
“But are any of your gowns actually old, Eleanor?” Thomas wanted to be anywhere on earth but the drawing room at Winsford Hall talking about Eleanor Barchester’s wardrobe.
“I am to be announced to the county as a Duchess in waiting, Thomas. I am sure that you would not have me dressed in anything but the very finest. And I am sure His Grace would agree.” She gave the old Duke a wheedling look that turned Thomas’ stomach. “I should not like to let the Duchy down after all.”
“I am sure you will do no such thing, my dear,” the Duke spoke with uncharacteristic gentleness. “But you must have the best to feel your best. Is that not right, Thomas?” The Duke gave him a secret look.
It was the sort of look that could blister paint, and Thomas knew better than to argue a ridiculous point any further than he had done already.
“Of course.” He smiled at Eleanor and, at that moment, thought how much he despised her.
Chapter 26
“Did he settle?” Catherine said anxiously as Charles came into the room. “Perhaps I should go up to him.”
“Settle yourself down, lass,” Charles Topwell said with a warm laugh. “Henry is not ailing at all. He just wanted a long-winded story from his Uncle Charles, that’s all.”
“Oh, he is a menace when he wants something. I truly thought he had a pain in his stomach.” Catherine sighed. “I wonder if he is missing home.”
And Catherine wondered if she was not, perhaps, missing home also. Hertfordshire still felt flat to her, although, since her excursion to Stromlyn Lake, it no longer seemed featureless. Perhaps it was Barford Hall itself, with its old memories, that did not feel like home. Perhaps it had nothing to do with Hertfordshire itself.
At least she would never have to live at Shawcross Hall, even when she and Thomas were married. Where he saw his inevitable disinheritance as a problem, Catherine could see only its advantages. She would not bury one tyrant only to be forced to live with another.
“He is perfectly alright, Catherine. As soon as I told him a story, he settled down and is now sleeping like a baby.” Charles laughed. “And he is enjoying himself very well here with all the fishing and so many trees.”
“Yes, he told me himself that he adores Barford,” Philip added. “And he has a list of the trees he means to climb before he returns home; he has shown it to me.”
Catherine smiled. Philip was already greatly attached to his nephew, and it was clear to her that he did not really want any of them to leave him alone at Barford Hall.
For all the wonders of reunions, there seemed to be new issues arising; issues which would need to be solved sooner rather than later.
“He is very happy here, Philip,” Catherine said reassuringly.
“And have you thought where you might live when you are married?” Philip went on.
“Well, no. We really did not have time to discuss a great deal.” Catherine laughed. “And I do not think Thomas had thought of anything at all before asking me to marry him. I think his main concern was the idea of my refusal.”
“Oh, the dear boy,” Celia said without looking up from her needlepoint. “How wonderfully romantic. Really, to have you meet him at a place that was so dear to you both so that he could propose to you.” She trailed off dreamily. “A woman dreams of such romance.”
“I am sure I was most romantic in my own proposal to you, my dear,” Charles interjected and Celia, choosing not to answer, just laughed rather loudly.
“Is it certain that he will be disinherited?” Philip asked cautiously.
“I think so. Or Thomas seemed certain of it at least,” Catherine said thoughtfully as she peered over to look at Celia’s needlework. “That is lovely, Celia.”
“Thank you.” Celia looked up and beamed. “It is for framing and hanging in Henry’s room. When it is finished, I am hoping it will resemble the tree back at Ivy Manor. The one Henry climbs, that is.”
“Yes, I can already see that it is.” Catherine peered closer still.
She felt a little emotional when she thought of just how loved her dear little boy was, how much everybody treasured him.
“Oh, good.” Celia continued to work. “Perhaps there is a chance that the old Duke will see a bit of sense at last.”
“Sense?” Catherine said.
“Yes, for if he disinherits Thomas, then he has no direct heir. Surely he would not be so embittered as to do such a thing.”
“I think he would, Aunt Celia.” Catherine shuddered. “And in any case, I should not want to live at Shawcross Hall. It was no happier a childhood home for Pierce and Thomas as this house was for us.” She looked over to Philip who nodded his understanding. “I would rather live somewhere very simple than live with Penrose Carlton. His poor character was as much to blame for my exile as father’s. If either one of them had been a better man … but they were not.” Catherine sighed. “Still, what’s done is done, and there is no use in looking over one’s shoulder and back into the past forever. The future must take over.”
“Quite right, my dear,” Charles said. “And there will always be a home for you in Derbyshire. The more, the merrier, eh?” He laughed, and Catherine could have kissed him.
Charles Topwell was a man of few words, but they were always extraordinarily well chosen. And genuine too,
for she knew he would welcome Thomas Carlton into Ivy Manor without a second thought.
“And here at Barford too,” Philip added. “Although I would not like to make Thomas feel uncomfortable.”
“The main thing is that you shall not be homeless when you are married. If the Duke is so foolish and careless with his own flesh and blood, you will survive it.” Celia, who was holding two pieces of coloured thread between her teeth as she tied off two others on the hoop, summed the whole thing up nicely if a little incoherently.
“Thank you, one and all.” Catherine smiled, feeling every bit as cherished as her son was.
“So, what is to happen and when?” Philip said brightly. “I mean, there will be a wedding to organize. I daresay Aunt Celia will be more helpful to you than I, but I would be glad to hold any celebration you would wish for here.”
“That is so very kind, Philip. I had not even thought of the wedding itself. I suppose I am not as excited about it as I ought to be. I suppose I am looking forward to marriage rather than a wedding.”
“But why?” Philip rose to pour them all a glass of sherry, no doubt judging that Henry would be fast asleep and not around to present himself in the drawing room again as he had done earlier.
“I suppose there is so much that is uncertain. And of course, I already have Henry.” She spoke quietly but without shame; she would never, ever feel ashamed about Henry. “And I am not such a part of society here in Hertfordshire anymore. I would not want anything grand. In truth, I would prefer a very simple wedding with just family and closest of friends. Like Agnes Price.” She turned to look at Celia.
“Yes, Agnes would be very pleased.”
“And what about Henry?” Philip sounded incredibly cautious. “What are you to say to him? Have you decided when you will tell him you are his mother and Thomas is his father?”
“I have yet to tell Thomas,” she said and felt the weight of the heavy silence all around her. “As I have said before, I do not want Thomas Carlton to marry me out of a sense of duty. I would never trust his feelings for me, and it would do Henry no good either. We have managed this far, and I must put Henry’s welfare and happiness first and foremost.”
“But Thomas has asked you to marry him, my dear. You already can be sure of his true feelings for you,” Celia said and laid down her needlepoint. This was clearly a conversation she was going to give her full and undivided attention to. “Unless you think it would in some way put him off, and you are afraid to tell him?” She moved along the couch to sit closer by Catherine’s side.
“Goodness no, I have no fears of that nature.” Catherine laughed. “But I am cautious. I would like to have more than a simple meeting at Stromlyn Lake before I do or say anything that might affect Henry.”
“You have some doubts about the future?” Celia was always so gentle and tactful.
“I suppose my past has taught me to fear the future a little. I know it is likely nothing to worry about, but I would not expose Henry to anyone as Thomas’ son, nor even my own if it would have some deleterious effect on his life. I must think very carefully before I do such a thing.”
“But the moment Thomas lays eyes on Henry, he will be left in no doubt,” Philip said with a perplexed smile. “I am bound to say that I recognized Henry as Thomas’ child immediately, and I had not seen Thomas myself for many years. Surely Thomas will know it the moment the two are in company.”
“Philip, I do not mean to keep Henry a secret forever.” Catherine laughed again when she realized the misunderstanding. “I just mean to wait until I have some firmer plan before me.”
“Surely you do not doubt Thomas’ intentions?” Celia said.
“I do not doubt his intentions, but I would not swear faithfully that I think they are not subject to change.” Catherine sighed. “Thomas is a wonderful man, and I know that he loves me. I have always known it. But to throw away one’s heritage and inheritance is not a simple thing. It is comforting to know that we have so many offers of a home.” She smiled at them all in turn, wanting to impress her gratitude upon them. “But it is a difficult thing, I think, for a man to find himself unable to provide a home for his wife and family in his own right. I know Thomas is not a materialistic man, but he is still proud nonetheless, and I do not doubt this thought has crossed his mind.”
“But Catherine …” Celia began.
“But nothing, my dear Celia.” Charles’ interruption was most uncharacteristic of him. “Forgive me, my adorable wife, but I think there is much of great sense in what our niece is saying.”
“You are quite right, Charles,” Celia said graciously. “And you are forgiven, in case that worries you at all.”
“You are very kind.” Charles bowed, much to Catherine and Philip’s amusement. “Catherine, you must do as you see fit. Thomas has gone these eight years without any knowledge of his fatherhood, so a few more days or weeks will make no difference.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said and felt her throat tighten with emotion. “I would not like to expose Henry as an illegitimate child. I know you do not recognize the word in that sense, Uncle Charles, for you are a truly wonderful man. But the rest of society does not think as you do, and I think you rightly perceive that it is that sentiment I wish to shield Henry from.”
“And when you are married?” Philip handed round the full sherry glasses.
“Then things will be different.” She smiled as she took the glass from him. “You know what society is, Philip. Once we are married, even if Thomas is disinherited, he will still be revered in this county as part of the Duchy. He will still be Lord Carlton, and so Henry will be accepted. I am sure there will be quiet pockets of gossip, but none who would dare say anything outright that would come to Henry’s ears, nor hurt him in any way.”
“That is the truth.” Philip sighed with mock exasperation. “My goodness, but our class are fickle, are they not. They care so little for what is truly right. It must only have the appearance of being right, and that is all.”
“Quite so.” Catherine sipped her sherry. “But that is the way of things, and I have spent years carefully protecting Henry. Amongst other things, it is a habit which I shall find hard to break. I could not risk Henry hearing of it all from anyone but me. It is a sensitive issue and must be approached with the utmost care. I cannot tell you the times I have nearly told him and later broken my heart when I know I cannot, for his own sake.”
“It must have been very difficult.” Philip’s handsome face was a picture of concern.
“At times. But I am bound to say that I have still been able to enjoy motherhood. I have had the wonderful privilege to be able to raise him myself, something I could never have done without Aunt Celia and Uncle Charles.” She looked at them each in turn. “I have been blessed in more ways than I was cursed, and that is the truth. I have so much to be thankful for, and I include my son finally knowing his Uncle Philip in all of that.”
“Yes, I could not be more pleased.” Philip looked very touched.
“I suppose much will come of Lord and Lady Hargrave’s ball. I imagine I shall speak to Thomas then and have some firmer plans which will give me the little bit of confidence I need myself to move forward.”
“Is the Duke going to be there? And will Thomas not already be disinherited by then?” Philip seemed boyish in his interest and excitement. “Lord, I cannot wait to see old Shawcross’ face.” He chuckled.
“Philip, behave,” Celia said, and Catherine and Charles laughed.
“Well, he is as bad as our father was.” Philip was still chuckling.
“I would think they would both be there. I mean, it would be too early for Thomas to be uninvited and very likely that the rest of the county would know nothing of all of this yet.” Catherine pondered the whole thing. “And I cannot imagine the Duke staying away from an event in favour of his son. He is far too arrogant for that.”
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 49
