Read Echoes of Pemberley Online
Authors: Cynthia Ingram Hensley
Echoes of Pemberley (46 page)
“It’s all right. Sorry about the language. Me da taught me never to curse in front of a lady, but I was a wee bit riled.”
“Forgiven,” she said.
“You know, Catie Darcy,” — they had begun walking towards the house again — “you kick with the force of a mule.”
* * *
Standing on the front steps of Pemberley, Ben watched Aiden’s little, red sports car peel out of the drive, sending gravel flying in its wake.
“What the devil is the matter with him?” He looked at Sean and Catie.
“I hit him,” Sean said bluntly.
“You
hit
him?” Ben looked at Sean disbelievingly.
“Aiden took Audrey from school, Ben,” Catie hastily clarified. “He admitted everything.”
“Aiden Hirst?” Ben repeated skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Ben, I’m sure. Sean even saw him with Audrey the night of the garden party.”
Ben’s steely eyes turned back to Sean. “Is that why you hit him?”
“No, sir.” Sean shook his head. “I hit him because he hurt Catie.”
“Hurt Catie?” he exclaimed, quickly descending the steps to examine her. “Catherine, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “He just yanked my arm rather hard, that’s all.”
Wrapping his sister protectively in his arms, Ben looked over at Sean. “Did you hit him hard?”
“Aye, Mr. Darcy.” Sean grinned. “I believe I broke his nose.”
“Good man, Kelly!” Ben said and gazed again in the direction Aiden had sped off. “Aiden Hirst,” he murmured. “Who would have thought? Well, come, Catie, you must get indoors and out of that wet coat. I need to telephone Donald Tillman. I’m confident he will want to make a call on Ardsley Manor this evening, and I think I might just join him.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Sean said, halting Ben. “May I first have a few minutes of your time . . . in private?”
Ben instinctively glanced at his sister. Meeting his gaze, Catie’s expression revealed her comprehension of Sean’s request, and her eyes beseeched him to listen. Ben stepped aside and said, “Come through.”
Ben took Sean into the front parlor. Hearing the heavy door click shut, a shaky sigh left Catie’s lungs. She didn’t like this, but Sean had insisted on speaking to her brother man to man. At least they weren’t in the territorial grounds of Ben’s study.
Preparing for the worst, from a conversation that was probably going to be short and to the point, Catie stationed herself at the bottom of the grand staircase to wait. Not expecting a miracle, her mind began planning her next course of action when Sarah, Mrs. Kelly, and Rose happened upon her on their way to the orangery.
“Catie, what’s the matter? Why are you sitting there like that, dear?” Sarah asked.
Closing her eyes despairingly, Catie dropped her head into her hands. Then she peeked through her fingers, but the three women were still circled around her with puzzled expressions on their faces.
“Catherine Darcy,” Rose said fussily. “What is going on?”
Giving the double parlor doors a wary glance, she said, “Bennet and Sean are talking.”
“Talking? About what?” Sarah asked.
Nervously glancing at Mrs. Kelly, Catie lowered her eyes and said, “Me.”
“Oh,” Sarah uttered. Then comprehending fully she repeated with more emphasis, “Ohhh!”
Quick to understand as well, Rose and Emma gave their own concerned pass over the doors and sat down beside Catie on the wide flare of the staircase.
Almost an hour later there was still no word from the parlor, not a voice had been heard nor a sound been made. Restless, Catie stood and paced the hall.
“Good Lord, what is taking so long? They have been in there nearly an hour.” She looked at Sarah pleadingly. “Maybe you should go in there?”
“No, dear,” Sarah refused, shaking her head definitively. “I’m a progressive woman, Catie, but there are still a few areas where women should not tread. This is between your brother and Sean.”
Sarah was getting concurring nods from Rose and Emma when the parlor doors opened, and the women came rapidly to their feet. Sean came out first, followed by Ben. The two men looked rather astonished seeing the four anxious faces that were fixed upon them.
Sean grinned boyishly as he walked over to the most eager of all. “Catie Darcy, would you like to have dinner with me in the village this evening?”
Eyes glowing brightly with excitement, Catie first glanced to her brother for approval. Standing as tall as he could make himself with his arms in a formidable fold, Ben gave her an ever so slight nod of his head. “I’d love to!” she answered.
“Seven?”
“Seven’s fine.”
“Seven then,” Sean confirmed and started for the door but turned back as if he had forgotten something. “Ma, Auntie, could you fetch some scissors and come down to the cottage?”
“‘My Seany knows better,’ eh?” Rose raised a brow to Emma.
“Oh, hush and get the scissors,” Emma fussed back as they hurried off together.
Catie rushed to the window to watch Sean descend the stairs as Sarah went to her husband. “You’re a good brother, Ben Darcy,” she said, as he unfolded his arms to gather her into his chest.
“Well, she’s ready.” He smiled down at her. “And since I made you a promise, I thought I’d better keep it.”
Sarah smiled back. “Sean is a fine boy. I don’t believe even Bennet Darcy could find a fault with him.”
“His hair is too long,” Ben replied flatly.
Sarah pulled back abruptly. “Is that why he asked for the scissors?
Bennet Darcy
,” she cried incredulously. “Please tell me you did
not
tell that boy he had to cut his hair before he could take your sister to dinner.”
“I most certainly did,” Ben said with conviction. “If he wishes to dine with my sister he is going to go about the business respectably.”
Shaking her head, Sarah gave her bulging belly a discreet but reassuring tap.
Afterword
Four Years Later
Standing in front of her full-length mirror, Catie Darcy gazed intently at her mother’s beaded and lace wedding gown. It had just arrived back from the seamstress, and she was quite engrossed by her own image. Taped to her mirror was a photograph of her mother wearing the same dress on her wedding day, and Catie was carefully comparing her likeness to the picture of Margaret Sumner Darcy.
Behind her, the sound of pounding little feet grew increasingly louder. Suddenly a small child with a mop of strawberry blond curls darted through her door and slid quickly out of sight under her bed. A heavy footstep followed close behind.
“Did Eliza Jane come in here, Catie?” Ben asked firmly.
Her brother’s brow told Catie it would be better for Eliza Jane to prolong her father’s search. “What do you think, Brother? Will I make you proud next week?” she asked, successfully diverting him.
Ben beamed at the sight of her. “Very proud, Sis.” He warmly embraced her. “Sarah and I will be as proud as Dad and Mum would have been.” Ben gave Catie a wink and resumed his search for his daughter.
“If you see Eliza Jane, tell her that her father wishes to have a word.” Ben stopped at the door and added, “And he is
not
happy.”
“Whatever did she do, Bennet?”
“Geoffrey said something she didn’t like so she poured a whole glass of milk over his head.”
Catie bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I can’t imagine where she gets that temper from.”
Ben stared at his sister blankly and then walked away.
Her father’s fading footsteps stirred the fugitive, and an angelic, full-cheeked face popped out from under the bed. “Thank you, Auntie Catie,” Eliza Jane whispered.
Sarah’s voice calling for her daughter was heard from the hall, and the child quickly vanished.
“Catie.” Sarah appeared at the door. “Have you seen Eliza?”
With a subtle cast of her eyes to the bed Catie revealed the child’s whereabouts, and Sarah nodded understandingly.
“Oh, Catie . . . your dress is back!” Sarah carefully inspected her seamstress’s work with a discerning eye and satisfied, brought her clasped hands to her cheek. “You are going to be the most beautiful bride, Catie, but . . . ” Sarah broke off with a sigh. “I’m afraid we shall have to find you another flower girl. Our little Elizabeth Jane has run away from home, never to return.”
“I have not,” said the bed.
Smiling, Sarah walked over and crouched down beside the bed. “Elizabeth Jane Darcy, come out from under there this instant.” Though the tyke obeyed her mother, she was dutifully hard at work defending her actions by tattling on her milk-laden brother as she did so.
“Yes . . . yes, save it for your father,” Sarah gently advised and, finally having the tiny miscreant in hand, gave Catie one last admiring gaze.
“Auntie Catie.” Eliza Jane tugged on her wedding gown. “When can I get married?”
Catie leaned down and gently tapped Eliza’s nose. “When your prince comes riding in on a horse to take you away with him.”
“Is that what happened to you?” The child’s eyes went round with amazement.
Catie laughed. “It is, Eliza Jane.”
“Come, Elizabeth Jane.” Sarah lifted her little daughter into her arms. “You must first square things with your father over the milk incident before asking his permission to marry.”
Alone again, Catie turned back to the mirror, smiled at her reflection and said, “It
most
certainly
is.”
On the morning of Catie Darcy’s wedding, Pemberley’s seventeenth-century chapel never looked more regal. The old stone church was alight with candles and adorned with greenery and bouquets of flowers from the estate’s own gardens. At the altar her future husband waited. He turned to her the moment she entered with a look that teetered somewhere between panic and complete bliss, and she couldn’t suppress the little hiccupping laugh that escaped her at the sight of it. She understood his sentiment. After all, they were practically children when they first fell in love. Indeed, she and Sean had traveled a long and difficult path to get to that moment. But despite the travails of a drawn-out courtship, which often had the cold Irish Sea between them, and families that were rarely in accord, Sean Kelly came riding out of a foggy morning up to Pemberley House to claim Catherine Darcy as his bride. Inspired by Catie’s love of romance novels, he galloped in on a white mount wearing a top hat and morning coat. He wanted the moment to be better than any she would ever read in a book, but most of all he wanted her to accept his proposal.
“Ready, Sis?” Ben stood at her side, and she nodded.
Eliza Jane led her father and aunt to Sean Kelly over a path of pink rose petals, taken from a rose bush planted by Catie’s mother. At the end of the aisle, Ben gently lifted his sister’s veil and kissed her cheek, and then graciously put her hand into her soon-to-be husband’s.
After a traditional ceremony that brought them from man and woman to husband and wife, the newlyweds danced late into the night surrounded by their closest family and friends. At Catie’s request, fireworks lit the sky as the couple prepared to leave the cheering crowd to spend their wedding night in remote rooms of Pemberley, which had been especially prepared for the occasion.
“At last!” Sean said, scooping his new bride into his arms. “You are finally mine, Catie Kelly, to do with as I please.”
“Perhaps you did not listen to the vicar, Mr. Kelly,” Catie replied with a clever lift of her brow. “I believe he said it is the husband’s duty to do his wife’s bidding.”
“He did?” Sean looked down at her skeptically. “I must say, Mrs. Kelly, I don’t remember that part of the ceremony. What say you then, my love? What is your bidding?”
Catie leaned up and whispered softly into his ear.
“Here? Now?” he questioned.
Impishly biting her bottom lip, she nodded.
“As you wish, m’lady.”
Catie Darcy Kelly lay back in her husband’s arms and stared up into an explosive, sparking night as her husband twirled her on the front lawn of Pemberley.
The End
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