Echoes of Pemberley (30 page)

“Behind a panel in my window seat,” she told him. “First I found the diary, but I returned it and then I found the letters . . . ”

“There is
more?
” Ben stopped her. “More letters and a diary?”

Instantly regretting the mention of the risqué diary, she hesitantly replied, “Y-yes.”

“Catie, hurry off and get everything you have of Cousin Mary’s and bring it to me!”

She nodded and left to fetch her little collection of Mary Darcy Howell’s history.

By the time Catie returned, Ben’s door was closed, and Mr. Radcliff was back at his sentry post. “He is speaking with Mr. Harold and not to be disturbed,” Wade said flatly. “I’ll take those.”

Disappointed, she surrendered the diary and letters to Mr. Radcliff and went to the front hall. She seated herself on the lower part of the grand staircase to wait. Ben would have to pass her on his way out and maybe he would say something. He might thank her or at least confirm the importance of her find. Maybe, she fantasized, maybe she had single-handedly kept Pemberley from falling into the “wrong hands” again. Or possibly she had finally done something that would make up for being a burden to Ben all these years.

While Catie waited, another storm came upon the manor. It rumbled and howled around the house and against the windows with a threatening strength. Everything felt electric and tense. It was almost an hour before she heard movement and male voices coming from the gallery. Then Ben and Mr. Radcliff rounded the corner and bounded down the staircase with the heavy tread of hurried men. As they neared, Catie stood and moved to the side to allow them to pass, staring hard at her brother in hopes of making eye contact with him. Ben, however, passed by without even a glance. He had a fixed look of contempt on his face, telling her his mind was clearly elsewhere.

She thought of calling out to him before he left. There was time, plenty of time, for he and Mr. Radcliff stopped at the door long enough to don their trench coats and turn up their collars to the wind that was now blowing the rain sideways. There was even a slight delay leaving as Ben waited for Mr. Radcliff to step out onto the portico and raise the umbrella. But Catie remained silent until Ben was outside. Only then did she make her way to the window and watch Ben get into the car. She could see his face through the car window, blurred by the rain as it ran down the glass. “It
had
meant something,” she whispered.

She stayed at the window until she could no longer see the black car as it blended into the grey of the heavy rain. For a moment the tail lights were still distinguishable, like two red eyes staring back at her, but eventually they too disappeared into the storm.

Chapter 19

After frantically pacing the hall most of Friday afternoon with a message from Mr. Darcy for his wife, Maggie rushed forward when Sarah entered and exclaimed, “Mrs. Darcy, ma’am!”

“Maggie!” Rose quickly admonished the outburst. “You must never rush Mrs. Darcy and really, child, do allow madam to get a foot in the door.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie replied, lowering her head repentantly, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Sarah gave Rose a wink. “It’s all right now, Maggie. My foot’s officially inside the door. What did you need to tell me, dear?”

“A message for you from Mr. Darcy, ma’am, he said it was to be handed to you the instant you stepped in the house.” Maggie glanced warily at Rose, hoping the explanation excused her.

“Thank you, Maggie.” Sarah smiled consolingly.

Maggie bobbed her head and hurried off.

“That child’s afraid of her own shadow,” Rose commented as she hung up her wet coat.

“I like her.” Sarah unfolded the sealed message from her husband. “But do remind her Rose, it’s madam or Mrs. Darcy. I’m not the Queen for heaven’s sake.”

Rose chuckled. “Yes, yes, I’ll remind her. Now, you must get off of those ankles. I swear the planning for this garden party gets more detailed each year. Where do you fancy having your tea?”

Fully absorbed in reading the missive, Sarah didn’t seem to hear the question.

“Sarah.” Rose took note of a developing frown and stepped closer. “Is everything all right, dear?”

“I must to go to London, Rose. Please make the arrangements. I shall be leaving immediately.”

* * *

Pulling back the curtain, Rose saw the sun streaming through a sparkling mist that had settled over the landscape during the night and breathed a sigh of relief. “Praise the Lord,” she whispered and, letting the curtain fall back into place, went to have breakfast with the children. Sarah had vaguely explained the urgency before dashing off to join her husband in London, leaving Rose in charge of Pemberley and its inhabitants — an undesirable task after thirty-six hours of unrelenting rain.

“We are getting out of this house and going on a picnic after church,” Rose declared at breakfast Sunday morning.

“We should invite Sean!” Catie quickly suggested.

“Yeah, Rose!” Geoffrey seconded. “We want Sean to come!”

“Yes . . . yes, Sean’s coming. Lord knows, I’ll take all the help I can get.” Rose sounded exasperated, but in all honesty, she could probably handle the three remaining Darcys as well if not better than Ben and Sarah. She never liked doing so, however, without making a fuss about it.

“Yay! Sean’s coming! Sean’s coming!” the boys shouted and banged their utensils on their plates. Clearly the Darcy twins intended to take full advantage of being temporarily parentless.

Catie laughed as Rose scolded, “Children, really!”

The Darcys’ preferred picnic spot on Pemberley Estate had been a favorite for many generations. Located along a particularly still, shallow part of the river, the surroundings created a perfect place for children. There was a large fallen tree, uprooted during a storm, which lay midway across the water at an ideal height for climbing. In an old, well-spread oak, Catie’s father had hung a sturdy, flat-board swing from a tall branch that carried its riders soaring over the water and velvety grass. Shade trees lined the banks of the river and beckoned picnickers to lie back as the swaying limbs rocked them into a tranquil afternoon nap. It was a peaceful spot full of happy memories, and Catie loved it. Many a summer Sunday afternoon she had spent here, and just the smell of the place evoked visions of her father pushing her on the swing, cautioning her to hold tight.

Today however, she was here with Sean, watching him look around and take in the beauty. Seeing him breathe deep and smile, she could tell he appreciated the naturalness of it — nothing altered; nature at its best. This had always been the way of the Darcys: less formality to the land, let nature be the artist, and enjoy what God has created.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked as they walked to the clearing.

“Oh, aye, it’s almost as picturesque as County Down.” He took the picnic hamper from her hand. “Here, allow me.”

“Thanks.” She smiled up at him as the twins ran up to them.

“Come push us, Sean.” Geoffrey tugged on Sean’s arm.

“Sorry, lads, I’m being a gentleman at the moment. Away off to the swing with you, I’ll be there directly.” The boys took off squealing, racing to be first to the swing. “And don’t go near the water!” he called after them.

“So, only almost?” she asked.

“Well.” He grinned and cut his eyes at her. “No true Irishman would ever admit to English soil being lovelier than his own. It’s
bròd
, you know
.
”

“It’s what?”

“
Bròd . . .
pride, but I reckon you English feel the same way. What fills the eye fills the heart, eh?”

She nodded. “I’d say that’s very true.”

He set the hamper down where Rose had spread the blankets. “Hope that’s as good as it is heavy, Auntie,” he said. “I’m starving!”

“You go amuse the twins.” Rose shooed him away. “We’ll have your lunch ready soon.” Sean lifted a cloth that covered a tray full of biscuits. “Off!” She slapped his wrist.

“Sorry, Aunt,” he said as crumbs dropped from his lips. Having obtained one tiny biscuit in the skirmish, Sean popped it in his mouth like a defiant little boy. “I did say I was starving.” He winked at Catie and ran off to push Geoffrey and George on the swing.

“Lord, my poor sister never can keep her lot fed. With five boys, someone’s always hungry.” Rose shook her head as she and Catie began unloading the food.

They worked in a silent chorus of preparing the meal as Rose glanced at her helper. She had intended to speak with Catie before bedtime tonight but decided to go ahead and have a word with her now. She appeared to be in an unusually good mood, and the distraction of the picnic might ease the necessary reproof.

“Catie,” Rose said casually as she unwrapped the sandwiches.

“Yes, Nan?”

“Stop ringing London, dear. You’re driving poor Mr. Radcliff mad.”

Catie slammed the picnic hamper closed. “No one tells me anything except
stop
or
no
! I’m the one who found the bloody letters after all.”

“Catherine, child, you must — ”

“I’m not a child!” Catie interrupted. “He treats me like I’m still eight years old. I’ll never be anything but the
little
sister to him. If Daddy were alive — ”

“Daddy, Daddy!” Rose scoffed. “Your memory of your father, Catherine, is rather distorted, coming from the vantage of a little girl . . . his pet no less. How do you think your brother came to be the man he is? I knew William Darcy well, Catherine. I cared for him — you know that — but he was
not
an easy man. His expectations for you would have been as high if not higher than your brother’s; make no mistake about it.” Looking a bit shamefaced, Catie began smoothing wrinkles in the picnic blanket. “Stop telephoning London,” Rose said again in a gentler voice, pulling Catie’s chin up. “He’ll explain all this business when he’s ready and not a minute before.”

“If at all,” she whispered doubtfully.

“Then that’s what you must accept.”

Catie stared at Rose. Even under a wide-brimmed hat, her high cheekbones were slightly pink from the sun, flattering her soft grey eyes. “Yes, Nan,” she answered softly.

“There’s a good girl.” Rose smiled. “Now fetch our men; they’ll be starved by now.”

After lunch Sean again occupied the twins, chasing and splashing them. So early in his manhood, there lingered still some little boy at heart.

“He misses his brothers,” Rose said to Catie as they watched from the blankets.

“What are they like?”

“Just as good hearted and just as handsome.” Rose grinned. “Then again, I am a bit partial. But Sean . . . he has always held a special place in my heart. I went to stay with my sister when he was born. It was right after I lost my Henry and just before I came to Pemberley.”

Catie had never thought of Rose’s life outside of Pemberley. She only knew of a Pemberley with Rose. Rose
was
Pemberley to Catie; Rose was home. “Promise me you will never leave me, Nan.” Catie nestled her head in Rose’s lap.

Rose gently pulled her fingers through Catie’s hair. “I’m sure it will be you that leaves Pemberley before me, child. Some very lucky — and I pray, patient — man will one day take you away from your ol’ nanny.”

“Never!” Catie vowed. “I shall stay with you forever, my dear, sweet Rose.” Grabbing Rose’s hand, Catie cradled it at her cheek.

Rolling her eyes, Rose shook her head and shooed Catie away with a scold. “Oh, go on with your silliness and let a poor woman rest while she can. Lord knows, I’ll not see another minute’s peace until your brother and Sarah return home.”

Giggling, Catie narrowly escaped a good snap of Rose’s tea towel as she ran to join Sean and the twins at their play.

Rose drifted in and out of sleep in the cool shade. As midday surrendered to afternoon, the sun was beginning to get hot and the cooler air near the river was appreciated. An hour or so later, she sat up and watched the frolicking foursome playing in the river. Jeans rolled up to their knees, Sean and the twins were scouring the river’s soft silt floor for treasures while Catie treaded the waters and headed downriver. The current was rushing from the storms, and Rose began to worry she had wandered too far.

“Sean!” she shouted, pointing in Catie’s direction as she got up and hurried over to the riverbank.

Seeing the source of his aunt’s concern, Sean nodded. “Catie!” he called out, cupping his hand around his mouth. “The water is too dangerous there, come back this way!”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Catie dismissed him. “I’ve played in this river all of my life.”

“Catherine Elizabeth Darcy, you will mind what Sean says and turn back this instant!” Rose demanded. “I’ll not have your brother returning home to a cracked skull!”

With an indignant expression Catie propped her hands on her hips and declared, “Mind
Sean
? Please,
Rose, I know this river far better than he does. If anything he should heed what I say. I am perfectly safe where I am.”