“Oh look, here come Charles and Henry. I think they have brought a fish back with them.” Celia pulled a face. “Oh dear, I do hope we are not going to be expected to eat it.” She shuddered, and Catherine laughed.
That was what she wanted. She wanted normality, the same gentle flow of her life in Derbyshire. Perhaps, in her own way, Catherine also lacked in a little courage.
“Goodness me, they look as if they need a little assistance.” Philip had risen to his feet to peer out of the window and now turned to leave the drawing room. “I will just help them in with their things.”
“Well, it looks as if we have fish for dinner.” Celia sighed dramatically. “And Catherine, please forgive me for trying to steer you these last days. You have been through too much in your life to have somebody else tell you how to live it, and I hope you can see past my little transgression.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Aunt Celia. I have nothing to do in this world but thank you and Uncle Charles for everything, for you truly have given me everything. You had the courage and kindness to see me through the darkest times of my life, and I do not easily go against anything you would tell me.”
“Then let us say there is no pressure from either one of us and keep it there.” Celia smiled and seemed relieved that they were back on their old footing. “Unless I am to eat fish, then I shall make the most dreadful fuss.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said and was grateful for Celia’s gentle humour.
It had got her through once before, and it would get her through again.
“Goodness, I think you have a visitor.” Celia, who had not yet turned away from the window, peered across the room at Catherine with a disquieting look.
“Who is it?”
“At the moment, all I can see is a young man on horseback,” she said and turned her attention so closely to the window that Catherine was sure her aunt’s nose must surely be touching the glass. “He is coming at quite a speed down the driveway. I can see that certain redness in his hair, and although I cannot be certain, I am reasonably sure that it is your Thomas Carlton.”
“Is Henry inside? Has Philip moved them indoors?” Suddenly Catherine was on her feet, her heart pounding.
She hardly knew what was affecting her the most. Her heart lurched with the familiar excitement of old, and she rose to her feet to peer out of the window and watch Thomas on horseback cantering towards them. He looked disheveled and determined and, she had to admit, extraordinarily courageous.
She then looked around for any sign of Henry, for now was not the time for the two of them to meet. But she could see no sign of them and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Since Philip is busy, perhaps I ought to go out and see if the butler is attending to Lord Carlton,” Celia said and raised her eyebrows for approval.
“Thank you, Celia. Yes, if you would not mind.”
Without a word, Celia darted out of the room to intercept Catherine’s visitor.
As she sat alone in the drawing room, Catherine did her best to keep a lid on her excitement. Thomas coming out all this way to see her when she had failed to arrive at Stromlyn Lake was certainly a wonderful, heartfelt gesture, but after her disappointment of the night before, Catherine had to be sure in her mind that a gesture was not enough. Not after everything that had happened.
Hearing footsteps approaching in the corridor, Catherine took a deep breath and turned to stare at the door into the drawing room. Celia appeared without the butler, bringing with her a most determined -looking Thomas.
“Here is Lord Carlton, my dear,” Celia said with such a determined attempt at normality that Catherine almost laughed. “I shall just have a quick word with the butler and have tea sent up if you will excuse me for a moment.” Celia gave her a look which suggested that she should not decline.
“Oh yes, of course,” Catherine said and watched as Celia darted away. “Well, do come in, Thomas. My aunt is determined that you shall have tea, and so you shall.” She registered her cold tone.
“I have not come here to fight with you.” Thomas strode across the room and stood before her giving every appearance that he most certainly would not be content to take a seat and take tea only to be dismissed at the end of it.
“Have you not?”
“Catherine, I love you, and you know I do.”
“I do not doubt your love, Thomas. That is not the thing I doubt.”
“But you doubt my courage; I can see it in your eyes,” he said, and his pale blue eyes fixed her. “But I am here to tell you that you are wrong. You did not see the best of me in these last weeks because I have not shown you the best of me. But you know the man I truly am, and I am here to tell you that I am not changed into something else. I am still me, and I mean to marry you.”
At that moment, the door to the drawing room opened, and Philip bustled in, giving every appearance that he had no idea that Catherine had company. And not only had he blundered in, but he was pulling young Henry in with him, holding his hand tightly.
Catherine’s mouth opened wide as she looked at Philip and, as she studied her brother’s face, she realized that this was no mistake. Philip had decided to take matters into his own hands and, had she not been suddenly so terrified, Catherine knew that she would have been utterly furious.
“Forgive me; I did not know you had company, Catherine.” Philip smiled brightly, but there was a flash of consternation in his eyes. He knew that he would be in a good deal of trouble later; that was certain. “Thomas, I hope you are well.” He bowed in Thomas’ direction. “Goodness, it is a good number of years since we have been in company, is it not?”
“Yes, I have not spoken to you since the night you so kindly arranged my final meeting with your sister.” Thomas spoke as if he were in a dream, simply answering a question by instinct rather than by design.
His eyes were fixed firmly on young Henry, and it was clear to Catherine that he knew exactly who he was looking at. This was not simply the ward of Charles and Celia Topwell; this was his son.
Henry stared back, unflinching in his curiosity, looking this new acquaintance up and down in the sort of bold manner that only a young boy could manage so successfully.
Catherine held her breath as Thomas took a few steps forward and stared intently at Henry. He slowly lowered himself to the floor, kneeling in front of Henry so that they were eye to eye.
Henry did not seem at all disturbed by the behaviour of a man who was, as far as Henry was concerned, a stranger.
Thomas leaned forward until his face was just an inch away from his son’s and looked deeply into the eyes that were so like his own.
Henry tilted his head to one side quizzically but did not move away. He seemed to be peering with equal curiosity and, if possible for a boy so young, equal intensity.
Catherine could see the look of absolute knowing on Thomas’ face, and she could almost feel his simultaneous joy and pain. She felt a wave of guilt, sadness that Thomas had missed the first seven years of his son’s life, but she knew it was to no avail. There was nothing she could have done to change it. There was nothing either one of them could have done.
Thomas continued to kneel in silence and, finally, Catherine saw tears running unchecked down his handsome face. Her heart almost burst when she saw Henry reach out to touch Thomas’ face, smearing his tears across his cheeks with a hand that still had the last vestiges of the chubbiness of infancy.
“Well, perhaps we shall leave you to it for a little while,” Philip said, quietly interrupting the scene he had caused. “Henry has caught a fish, you see, and he is very keen for the cook to show him exactly what happens next. Revolting, but informative.” He smiled cautiously. “Well, if you will excuse us,” he said and looked at Catherine significantly before turning and leading Henry from the room.
Henry stopped when they reached the door and looked back at Thomas, who was still on his knees and staring after him, seeming as if he could not take his eyes from the child.
He rose slowly to his feet and stood staring at the empty doorway for some moments before he turned around and stared right into Catherine’s eyes.
He walked slowly across the room, dropping down into the armchair opposite hers, never once releasing her from a piercing, almost accusatory, gaze.
“Well? When were you going to tell me?” he repeated in a firmer tone.
“I do not know that I was ever going to tell you. I mean, had we been getting married, yes, of course, I was going to tell you. But after last night, I had determined not to. I had been relieved that I had not mentioned it before. You must understand that nobody can hear of this. I will not have our son ridiculed as illegitimate.”
“But he has a right to know that I am his father. You should not have kept him from me. You did not have that right, Catherine.” She had never seen him look like that before; he seemed older and almost like a different man altogether.
Catherine knew he was subject to so many feelings at once that he would be struggling to sort through them. But she had suffered the same herself when she had first discovered she was with child. And she had suffered them alone. As much as Thomas was shocked and hurting, he had no right to look at her with such accusation.
Suddenly she knew she could not hold on to it all. The time to tell him everything had come, and he would hear it whether he liked it or not.
“Complain all you like, Thomas,” Catherine said and rose angrily to her feet and began to pace back and forth. “For I have yet to have the right to let him know that I am his mother. How dare you feel sorry for yourself, even for a moment?”
“Catherine, please, sit down.” Her sudden outburst seemed to shake him back into reality.
“No, I will not sit,” Catherine said and knew that she could not rest until she had her fury completely spent. “It is so easy for you to see yourself as a victim in this. You are the poor lovelorn man who waited at Stromlyn Lake today whilst the object of his desire left him suffering. You are the man who has only just discovered he is a father, a man who feels wronged because he was not informed. But let me tell you what true suffering is, Thomas. To be exiled and alone and discover myself to be with child was the most terrifying experience imaginable. I had to go to another county altogether to give birth to Henry, and I had to suffer the idea that my beloved child would grow up in an orphanage. Had it not been for my determination and the kindness of my aunt and uncle, that is exactly where Henry would be today. Descended from dukes and earls and growing up in anonymity. But at least I have him with me, even if he thinks that I am nothing more than a distant relative, a niece of his wards, his governess. He calls me Aunt Catherine, for heaven’s sake! I have never heard my own child call me Mama, and so I shall not prostrate myself at your feet and beg forgiveness for something that was entirely out of my control.” She almost shouted the last and continued to pace.
“Catherine, I know you are angry with me, but I could not have known. How could I have known it?”
“I know you could not, Thomas; I am just trying to make you understand how hard the last years have been for me, how lonely and frightening at times. Heartbreaking. And I am telling you with certainty that your anger towards me this day is misplaced. I have had to think so carefully about it all, and yes, I did wait these last weeks because I did not truly know what you would do. You have been and still are, engaged to another. And I am bound to tell you that, despite your proposal, the way I have suffered in this life as a result of our love has taught me to be cautious; not to trust a thing is going to happen until it actually happens. And last night, I could see that I was right to do so.” She slowed in her pacing, the rage beginning to release its grip on her. “When I saw you last night, arm in arm with your fiancée, I began to wonder if your declaration to me at Stromlyn Lake was nothing but a figment of my imagination. But figment or not, I will not put myself through that again. Whilst there have been moments of joy in my life, moments I will never forget, there have been moments of devastation. I will not live through that again.”
“Catherine, you are not the only person who has been changed by it all. You are not the only person to have their heart crushed to nothing when we were parted. And I have known fear and loneliness, all of the things you describe, but for different reasons. I have known loss and guilt, and yes, it changed me. But it did not change me irreparably; it has not taken away who I am deep-down, and I will not leave this house today until I have your absolute agreement that you will marry me. I will not live without you, and I will not live without my son. I know that I should have acted sooner, that this should be solved by now, but it is not. But just because it is not, does not mean that it will not be. I mean to leave this house today and make everything known to my father.”
“Thomas … I …”
“No, you agreed to marry me, Catherine. I know you love me, and I know that you know I love you. I will not see everything we have, everything we could have, turned to dust just because you cannot forgive me a little failing.” He rose from his seat and advanced upon her. “And I will break my engagement to Eleanor Barchester today, for she is to attend Shawcross Hall this afternoon. It will be done, Catherine, it will be done.” And, without another word, he pulled her roughly towards him.
Finally, Catherine could see Thomas, her Thomas, shining through. Her heart was beating wildly and her feelings for him so strong that it was as if they had never been parted.
With one hand wrapped around her waist, Thomas pulled her body against his. With his free hand, he held her face gently before leaning in towards her and kissing her passionately. Catherine was suddenly overwhelmed with her need for him and returned his kisses with equal passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, never wanting to let him go.
Catherine knew now that they would be together forever. She knew that he meant every word he said, that he was the same courageous young man he had always been, the same Thomas. And she knew that he would leave Barford Hall that day and not return until the thing was done.
“Am I to take it that things are settled between you?” Thomas and Catherine broke guiltily apart when Celia Topwell, smiling more broadly than she had ever smiled, walked back into the drawing room. “Anyway, you will be pleased to know that tea will be here in a moment.”
“Forgive me, Lady Celia, but tea will have to wait,” Thomas said and bowed. “I have some business to attend to at Shawcross Hall, and it will not wait another minute.”
“Very well, young man. And it is Mrs Topwell, not Lady Celia.” She smiled at him mischievously. “Well, go on then, get along with you.”
“As soon as it is done, I will return to you. I will be back today, Catherine.”
Chapter 30
“We have a guest, Thomas!” Penrose Carlton boomed at the top of his voice. “And not just any guest, boy, but your fiancée.” He shook his head to register his disgust. “Now I suggest you smarten yourself up and get into the drawing-room immediately.”
“No, Father,” Thomas said and felt suddenly full of purpose.
He almost welcomed the idea of being disowned, disinherited, for it would mean that he would never again have to listen to his father bellowing at him and treating him like a child. Thomas realized that he had been putting up with it for years, just as Pierce had put up with it before him.
Well, there was to be no more of it.
Thomas was not a child; he was a father. He thought immediately of Henry’s beautiful, round face and his eyes. Those pale blue eyes.
That moment of understanding, that absolute knowledge without words that the boy before him was his own son was a moment he would never forget. A moment that would change him forever, only this time, it would be for the better. It would always, always be for the better.
He had a son now, a wonderful, perfect little boy. And Thomas would be a man because of it. He would protect him with his life and never, eve
r have his child scrabble about for his approval. Henry was here on this earth, living and breathing and utterly perfect. Just his presence gave him intrinsic worth, and Thomas would never let a day go by without making sure that Henry knew it.
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 52
