Echoes of Pemberley (35 page)

“So, Mr. Kelly, did you finally have your first cucumber sandwich?” Catie asked.

“Aye,” he answered with a grin.

“
And
?”

“And, I found them exactly as I expected I would, dainty and not at all filling.”

“Well, maybe we can spear a wild boar for you.” Catie’s teasing eyes met his. “Or maybe you would like to kill the poor thing with your bare hands.”

He laughed. “Wild boars roam the gardens of Pemberley, do they?”

Before Catie could retort, Audrey Tillman rushed over to them. “There you are!” she panted. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Aud, how are you?” Catie asked as they hugged.

“Wonderful. Hello, Sean Kelly,” Audrey said over Catie’s shoulder.

“Hello, Audrey Tillman,” Sean replied. “Have you had a nice summer?”

She had had a very nice summer indeed and wasn’t about to let Catie off without telling her everything. A vacation to Paris with her father, travelling to Turkey with her mother . . . Audrey went on for some time before Sean stopped her.

“May I?” He gestured towards her punch glass.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you.” She handed him the empty glass.

“Catie?” Sean turned in her direction, raising one shrewd brow.

Catie grinned in understanding. He had interrupted Audrey Tillman’s ramble to spare Catie any further talk of white sand beaches and Parisian boutiques. “No, Sean, thank you . . . really.”

“Thank God! I thought he’d never leave,” Audrey blurted as soon as Sean stepped away. “So tell me . . . why all the young chaps this year? This is usually a ripe old geriatric event.”

Catie shrugged. “Maybe England’s young male population has abandoned Black Sabbath for orchestra music and finger sandwiches.”

The two girls looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Speaking of young chaps, you and Kelly seem to be rather chummy. Anything you wish to tell me, Darcy?” Audrey nudged her friend with an elbow.

“No, Tillman.” Catie saw Sean returning and put a finger to her lips. “Now
shhh
.”

The girls talked for a few more minutes as Sean sipped nervously at his drink and scanned the crowd. Catie sensed he might be feeling a bit out of place and was glad when Audrey parted their company in search of more flirtatious conversation.

“See that gentleman over there with the bad hairpiece,” she whispered when they were alone again, hoping to make him feel more at ease.

“Um-hmm.” He cut his eyes down at her. “What about him?”

“See the older woman with him?”

He nodded. “His mother?”

She shook her head and mouthed, “His nanny.”

“No way!” he hissed disbelievingly. “What is he doing with his nanny?”

“Married her . . . after his mum died, seems they never
really
parted ways, a secret affair for almost thirty years.”

“How could he be with a woman who had wiped his arse . . . er, sorry . . . bum for him?”

Catie shrugged, giggling.

“The rich are an odd lot, eh?” Glancing at her, he instantly realized his error. “I mean . . . not you...”

“No,” she stopped him. “I’m just, what was it . . . spoiled and insolent?”

“Well.” He smiled. “You
are
to be sure, Miss Catie. But that’s just the opinion of a very poor insufferable ass.”

“An ass maybe, but not so insufferable,” she said softly as their eyes met and held for several seconds. Conversation between them began to flow more easily, and Sean seemed more relaxed . . . almost enjoying himself.

As the afternoon wore on, the Darcy twins were brought from where the children were being entertained to make an appearance. They entered holding hands, curls plastered to their little heads, and wearing navy blue blazers with white short trousers. There was a collective gasp, followed by ooh’s and aah’s as the crowd parted so the boys could make their way to their parents. Sean chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Catie asked.

“Do you have any idea how embarrassed they’ll be when those pictures are pulled out ten, twelve years from now?”

“I think they look cute!” Catie argued.

“No boy of mine would ever be dressed that way,” he solemnly stated.

“They will if their mother has anything to say about it. Sarah bought those outfits herself, and I helped her pick them out.”

“I’m sorry.” Sean laughed. “But they look like miniature waiters. Put a tray in their hands, and your guests will stop
oohing
and
aahing
and ask them for more champagne.”

Giving him a playful elbow, Catie protested, “That’s cruel, Sean.”

“No, cruel is putting them in those little monkey suits . . . ” Sean started, but was interrupted by the sound of a silver fork clinking lightly against a piece of crystal stemware.

Donald Tillman stood up to say a few words. He and the late Mr. Darcy had been good friends and had worked together for many years on behalf of Derbyshire to boost the county’s tourism. He spoke of the beauty of Pemberley House and grounds and expressed his gratitude that the grand old manor would once again be open to the public, explaining that the centuries-old family home had always been a favorite of tourists.

Pemberley had opened its doors to holiday travelers since its beginning. It was tradition, and Ben was unquestionably a traditionalist when it came to the running of the estate. However, the circumstances surrounding the loss of his father had gained so much public attention that Ben couldn’t bear the thought of tour guides retelling the tragedy to nosy sightseers in his very own drawing room.

“An estate is no different than your money,” Grandfather Geoffrey had told Ben numerous times. “Make your estate work for you . . .
Never
work for your estate.” Geoffrey Darcy knew how to run an estate and, even in some of the most difficult economic times, to keep it running. Before he died, he taught his grandson everything he knew. Ben was not ignorant to the amount of income he was forfeiting by closing the house and grounds.

At Mr. Tillman’s introduction, Ben got up to speak. He was opening Pemberley again. Enough time had passed. He and Catie had healed. He spoke of his father’s work in the county’s tourism industry and stated his eagerness to reestablish Pemberley among the ranks of Derbyshire’s list of “must
sees.” His announcement caused an eruption of toasts and cheers that lasted several minutes.

After the speeches the party quickly returned to the low hum of conversations. Ben took a glass of champagne from a tray and began to search for his sister. He was not in the least bit thrilled to see that she remained in the company of Sean Kelly. Sarah caught her husband’s expression and excused herself to go to him.

“Something is troubling you?” she asked and affirmed in the same breath.

“Catie,” Ben said with a little nod in her direction. “She has not left Sean Kelly’s side all afternoon.”

“She is just being polite. He really knows no one beyond her and Rose.”

“Well, I for one think she has been polite long enough. She is just as obligated to the rest of the guests.”

Sarah glanced again at Catie and Sean; she knew it was not just politeness. She was rather sure that the two preferred each other’s company. Sarah began to fear that if it hadn’t already, their close friendship could easily turn into a dangerous liaison . . . especially where Bennet Darcy was concerned.

“You could diplomatically
,
and I do mean
diplomatically
, Bennet Darcy, request she circulate with you for awhile,” Sarah suggested, cringing inside as she tried hard to convince herself that she was in no way behaving like Abigail Hirst.

Ben nodded in agreement, handed her his glass, and slowly made his way through the crowd to Catie. No easy task, as he was stopped every few feet and had to respond appropriately to each interruption, not wanting to appear as if he were on a mission and draw undue attention. Finally he approached Sean and Catie bearing a very diplomatic and uncharacteristic smile.

“Sean, are you enjoying yourself?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yes, very much so, thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

“Grand.” Ben’s smile widened as Catie looked at him strangely. “If you wouldn’t mind,” he continued, “I was hoping I could steal my sister. I have been so preoccupied this afternoon I’m afraid I haven’t been able to show her off properly.”

Now she understood. Like the day at the paddock, it wasn’t proper for her to be standing with her riding instructor all afternoon. People might talk.

“No,” Sean replied hastily, as if he had done something wrong. “Please, sir.”

“Thank you. Please enjoy the rest of your evening.” Ben turned to Catie and offered her his arm. “Sis?”

Reluctantly, Catie took hold of Ben’s arm and walked away with him, glancing over her shoulder at Sean as they departed.

Chapter 22

For the next hour, Catie looked Sean’s way every so often. Sometimes he would notice her gaze and return it. Other times he was busy, engaged in conversation with various, curious guests. More than once she tried to be excused from the mind-numbing discussions of shooting and fishing, politics and farming, but wasn’t successful. Ben, it seemed, was determined to keep her by his side. Eventually she was asked to dance by a boy whose name she couldn’t recall, but jumped at the chance of escape from her brother.

From the dance floor, she inconspicuously but frantically searched the crowd for Sean but could no longer find him. Several different dance partners later, she assumed he had left.

As afternoon gave way to dusk, Sean headed back to the cottage. His headache from the morning had returned and the lackluster party could no longer hold his interest. On his way he passed several guests, who clearly preferred the outskirts of a party rather than the midst.

Only yards from his door, Sean heard a noise that brought him to an abrupt stop. He was still close enough to hear the orchestra and first assumed that was probably what he had heard. But in just a few more seconds of listening, came a distinctive, “No!” Sean changed course and hurried in the direction of the voice.

On a bench, tucked under a vine laden arbor, Sean found Audrey Tillman and a young man he had seen her with at the party. Audrey looked away at the sight of Sean and began buttoning her blouse, while the young man stood as if protecting her.

“This is a private party, mate,” he declared, thrusting out his chest like a peacock.

Ignoring him, Sean looked around to Audrey Tillman. “Audrey, your father is looking for you. It would be best that you go to him now.”

“He is?” She got up and moved around her would-be protector. “Thank you,” she said quietly to Sean as she brushed past him.

“Audrey!” Sean called out to her, and she stopped to listen to him. “I’d suggest you stay close to your father the rest of the evening.” She nodded and went on.

“You know, Paddy. It is Irish, eh, your accent?” the young man said.

“It is. Ulster, not that it’s any of your bloody business.”

“Right. Well, I don’t know how it is in Ulster but around here
no
oftentimes means
yes
. . . with the birds anyway. You follow me, mate?”

“No, I was taught to mind my manners, especially when it comes to respectable young women. Follow me . . .
mate
?” Sean crossed his arms and set his jaw firmly.

The moon was waning but bright enough for Sean to see his adversary’s face. A sneering smile showed the young man’s white teeth in the grey darkness. Apparently he was amused by Sean’s comment. “Well, that’s the nice thing about being rich,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “You really don’t have much need for manners.”

“Then you must be a man of wealth,” Sean countered, growing tired of the conversation. “Because when it comes to manners you certainly have none.” He started to leave, but the young man wasn’t finished.

“Ulster, eh, so tell me, Paddy, are you Catholic scum or loyal to your Queen?”

Sean spun about and took a couple of hard steps in the Englishman’s direction. “My religion and my loyalties are none of your bloody concern.”

“Calm down, Paddy. I only asked because I noticed that you enjoy the company of Catie Darcy.”

Sean’s fists balled but he forced them to remain at his sides. “Don’t say her name,” he murmured low and hoarsely, taking another step forward.

The young man moved back, almost into the arbor, clearly unsure of his chances if the altercation came to blows. “I was just going to offer you some friendly advice, mate.”

Narrowing his eyes, Sean took a deep, calming breath, which seemed to encourage the young man to continue.

“You see, Paddy, that brother of hers will never approve of her going to the stables to fetch her gentleman friends. It matters not how much she fancies you; big brother makes the decisions for her.”