CATHERINE (Pride & Prejudice continued.... Book 2)

by Sue Barr

Mrs. Bennet’s head tipped to one side as she waited for an answer. She reminded him of a pet bird his mother kept, which always tilted its head and fixed one eye on him, waiting to see what he’d say or do.

  “Mrs. Bennet, Lord Kerr is not required to share his itinerary, nor does he answer to us as to what ladies he knows in London.” Mr. Bennet shook out his newspaper in agitation. “It is not his fault Kitty was in the middle of the road. Silly girl, always day dreaming her life away.”

  George noted a tightening of Catherine’s lips and a faint blush staining her cheeks, the only visible clue that her parent’s behavior shamed her deeply and he felt a tug of compassion. For some reason he felt an insane desire to spirit her away so they could never embarrass her this way again, but for now he placed the well-worn cloak of a shallow man around his shoulders and waded into the inane world of Mrs. Bennet.

  “I do not mind answering Mrs. Bennet’s questions and it is not Miss Catherine’s fault for her accident. I was in a mad rush to deliver a letter.”

  “What? The post does not run from London anymore?” Mr. Bennet dropped the top half of his paper down and looked at George in mock astonishment.

  George revised his opinion of the couple. Although Mrs. Bennet was shallow and rather empty-headed, Mr. Bennet was an observer of people. He’d have to tread carefully around the man.

  “Yes, it does, but a friend of mind, Lord Alvanley placed a bet that I would be unable deliver the letter to a mutual friend’s door in less than twelve hours. Alas, I now owe him ten pounds.”

  “Ten pounds!” Mrs. Bennet gasped out loud, her hand fluttering up to her chest. “You must have a great deal of money if you can bet such exorbitant amounts.”

  If only he were in this part of England for such a whimsical reason. While Mrs. Bennet nattered on about placing bets and how she’d heard that some of the men in the village were known to play cards for money, George mulled over the true reason he was in the vicinity of Hertfordshire.

  After his encounter with Stanhope at White’s, he remembered where he’d seen Reggie before. He was none other than the Viscount’s valet, a weasel faced character always found in areas where servants didn’t congregate. Upon this realization, a few details fell into place, such as the surprised expression on the Reggie’s face when he first entered the parlor at Lady Evangeline’s home. George remained convinced his presence was not expected and because Reggie conveniently died with this information, there was a good possibility Stanhope remained in the dark about George’s covert activities.

  Then again, Stanhope might not be involved at all. Servants heard and saw the underbelly of London Society and a cunning servant could use certain information to upgrade their station in life. However, George remained convinced the valet was not one to willingly get his hands dirty, which led him back to taking a closer look at the Viscount.

  He planned to reconnoiter Stanhope’s estate, Creighton Castle, and see if there was anything other than a very dead valet pointing to his involvement with the French. Running over a beautiful young woman on the road was not part of the plan. With that one small diversion, his hope of remaining incognito had gone up in a plume of lavender scented smoke. Once he gathered more information and or any damning evidence, he’d approach Lord Grayson with his findings.

  George cursed his bad luck of literally running into Miss Catherine Bennet, not that he wasn’t pleased to see her again. Except now that he’d crossed the threshold of the Bennet residence with their daughter in his arms, the whole of Meryton would soon know he’d been in the vicinity. He’d been forced to come up with an alibi of delivering a letter to a friend in Cambridge. Fortunately, Mrs. Bennet by her inquisitive nature unknowingly aided him in expounding the untruth.

  “How long will you be staying in Meryton, Lord Kerr?” Mrs. Bennet asked, having exhausted her repertoire of gambling men in Meryton. She picked up a piece of embroidery stretched around a hoop. Mr. Bennet, newspaper now completely abandoned, watched him with great intent.

  “I will take a room at the inn and continue my journey on the morrow.”

  “Oh no, you must stay here. I insist. It would be most unchristian of us to send you out in the dark of night.” She dropped the hoop on the small table and clapped her hands. “Mary.”

  Mary, the quiet sister whom George had forgotten was in the room, lifted her head from the book she was reading. She looked at her mother, her expression evident she had not followed any portion of their discussion. He found himself fascinated by her singular devotion to exclude herself from their activities. Did Miss Bennet not care that she’d been summoned like a common servant, or worse, a household pet?

  “Yes, mama?”

  “Find Hill and have her prepare Jane’s old room for Lord Kerr.”

  Miss Bennet rose in silence and started for the door.

  “No thank you, Mrs. Bennet,” George stated. “I am perfectly content taking a room at the inn.”

  Mrs. Bennet started to insist, but her husband interrupted her.

  “I am sure Lord Kerr does not wish to stay in a house full of silly girls, Mrs. Bennet,” he offered, clearly wishing to agitate his wife further. For once, she refused to take the bait, just huffed out a sigh and pursed her lips.

  “Truly, I cannot tread upon your hospitality any longer, Mrs. Bennet.” George softened his answer with what he hoped was a winsome smile.

  Miss Bennet halted by the door and glanced toward her mother for direction.

  “Oh, do sit down, Mary. You’re not needed now.” Mrs. Bennet scowled and waved her hand in the direction of the chair she’d previously occupied.

  Internally, George winced at the manner with which Catherine’s mother dismissed her middle daughter, who moved back to her chair in the corner and picked up an extremely thick book. Without so much as a flounce of her skirt, or a single flirtatious look, she began reading. Strange girl, he thought. She possessed pleasant enough features, when her mouth wasn’t so downturned. In fact, she favored her elder sister, Elizabeth quite a bit. Both had dark hair and eyes and he was now convinced that if Miss Bennet were discussing something of interest, her eyes would sparkle much like Mrs. Darcy’s.

  “Will you be passing through Hertfordshire on your return trip to London?” Mrs. Bennet’s hopeful tone broke into his thoughts and almost made him laugh. Although a rather vulgar woman by Society’s standards, she couldn’t be faulted for looking after her daughter’s best interest. Poor woman, she didn’t have to try so hard. He already was attracted to Catherine Bennet; however, he would not grant her mother the pleasure of that knowledge.

  He glanced over to where Catherine lay, noting her pallor and slumped shoulders. It was apparent that her pain had not yet abated and he wondered if he had any laudanum in his saddle bag to give her. Having cracked his ribs once or twice after falling off his horse, George knew the discomfort she must be enduring. Yet not one word of complaint had passed her lips. He cut a glance at the mother, who more than made up for Catherine’s silence.

  “Once my obligation has concluded, I shall stop in briefly at my estate in Cambridgeshire before returning. I have not been there in almost seven years.”

  “You do not live on your estate? How do you know your steward is not robbing you blind?” Mr. Bennet asked in clear astonishment.

  George immediately regretted mentioning the estate he would inherit from his mother. His concern for Catherine Bennet was distracting him and she hadn’t so much as smiled at him. If Nathan or Max knew how much she befuddled him, they’d laugh so hard, tears would fall. He’d always been the one who showed no emotion when it came to young misses. In fact, he avoided them like the plague. He’d managed to duck determined mama’s and their insipid charges for over seven years. Yet – this quiet slip of a girl had him in a dither.

  “You are a good friend, to do this task of delivering a letter, Lord Kerr.” Catherine spoke up for the first time.

  George felt a pinch of regret at the outright lies he spewed, but for King and
country he’d done worse. The Bennet’s must never know the true reason for his trip. Stanhope was an unknown threat at this time and he didn’t want to cast any shadows upon them. The less they knew, the safer they’d be.

  “Thank you, Miss Catherine, but I enjoyed the thrill of winning the bet more than the satisfaction of having done a good deed.” He afforded her a sly wink only she could see. “Besides, it allowed me to spend time with you and your delightful family.”

  She blushed again and cast her gaze down to her lap. He quickly shifted his attention back to Mrs. Bennet, so as not to bring censure onto Catherine, but not before he caught a hint of a smile tilting the corner of her full, soft lips.

  “By the time you return, Kitty will be leaving for London,” Mrs. Bennet complained, a small whine tinging her voice. “She is to spend Easter with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner before repairing to Derbyshire for the summer. Her sister, Mrs. Darcy, has invited her and Mary to stay until your brother’s wedding at Pemberley.”

  “What day are you traveling to London, Miss Catherine?” George addressed his question to Catherine, trying to draw her into the conversation once more.

  “I was to leave two days hence, but Mr. Wilson advised I must wait at least a week to allow the rib to heal.”

  “Allow me to escort Miss Catherine to her Aunt Gardiner’s.” George turned to Mr. Bennet. “As I am responsible for her injuries, I feel impelled to make sure she arrives safe and sound.”

  “Oh, that would be most gracious of you, Lord Kerr. So magnanimous of you to offer. Isn’t that so, Mr. Bennet?” Mrs. Bennet waved her hands in front of her skirts, as though she didn’t know what to do with them.

  “Most magnanimous, my dear.” Mr. Bennet agreed, his tone rich with irony.

  For all his strange quirks and seemingly uncaring attitude toward his daughters, as George had seen exhibited at Darcy’s wedding breakfast, Mr. Bennet had obviously decided to watch his remaining two daughters with more caution. For that reason, he addressed the father with a humbler attitude.

  “I would never forgive myself if Miss Catherine were unable to visit her family in London because of my carelessness.” He patted his inside coat pocket, where he’d stuffed some folded blank papers. “I have only to deliver these letters to my friend and then I shall return to join Miss Catherine a week from tomorrow.”

  George knew if left early enough, he’d make his mother’s estate in Cambridgeshire by late afternoon, where he’d change into laborer’s clothing and scout out Stanhope’s estate a few short miles away. George had not been in the area for a long time and with careful disguise no one of consequence should recognize him as the son of the former Lady Sybil Knox, now the Dowager Duchess of Adborough. He estimated at least five days of scouting around before he had to return to Longbourn.

  Mr. Bennet placed his newspaper on a small side table, rose from his chair and stopped beside George.

  “A word, if I may, Lord Kerr?”

  George rose to his feet and gave a polite nod to the ladies before following Mr. Bennet to his book room. Once they were seated and Mr. Bennet had poured them each a snifter of brandy, he turned his astute gaze upon George.

  “My wife and daughters may believe your well contrived story of ‘delivering a letter’ to a friend, but I am afraid I see past your façade and demand to know what you are doing here.”

  Surprised by the ease at which Mr. Bennet had correctly assessed his character, George took his time in answering. Although he no longer actively worked for Lord Grayson, anything he shared held the potential of serious, if not fatal, repercussions. Bennet’s connections and loyalty were an unknown factor and as such, he could not answer him with complete truthfulness.

  “As I stated, I am taking a letter to—”

  “I never thought of myself as a stupid man. I am sure I do not look like a stupid man, yet you continue to treat me as one.” Mr. Bennet’s eyes narrowed as he pinned his intelligent gaze on George. “Do you think of me as deranged, Lord Kerr?”

  Clearly, he was not going to sidestep the issue with Miss Bennet’s father. He placed his snifter on a small table and leaned forward.

  “Mr. Bennet, I can tell you in all honesty, your daughter is not in any danger from me. My reason’s for traveling to Cambridgeshire are not mine to share.”

  Mr. Bennet stroked his chin, deep in thought. After a few minutes, never removing his eyes from George, he replied.

  “I trust you Lord Kerr and that speaks highly of you. Sadly, I have learned that scoundrels come in many forms, some of them in the guise of an officer and a gentleman, others sporting a title with no goodness in their heart. Having said that, I believe you speak the truth. I intend to reflect on your words and actions and when you return, seven days hence, I shall let you know if you may escort my daughter to London.”

  “Thank you, sir. I believe we could become good friends and insist you call me Lord George. With two brothers, it becomes confusing as to which Lord Kerr people are talking about.” He rose to his feet and gave Mr. Bennet a polite bow. “Please bid your wife and daughters goodnight. I leave at first light and need to attain a room at the inn.”

  “I am not against you staying here at Longbourn.”

  “You and I both know that would not be advisable. I have a reputation that precedes me and if I were to spend even one night under your roof, your neighbors would speculate about your daughter’s virtue. No, I must get a room at Meryton.”

  “If that were true, what of her virtue, should she travel alone with you to London?”

  George felt the corner of his mouth lift. “Then you must ensure she has a chaperone. Her sister may enjoy a visit to London. Think how quiet your house will be.”

  “You are a cagey fellow, Lord George.” Mr. Bennet laughed out loud. “I may learn to like you. Yes, Mary will attend London with Kitty. She needs to expand her horizon beyond Fordyce’s Sermons.”

  Chapter Four

  Kitty awoke the next morning to the rolling sound of thunder, stretched her arms over her head and cried out with pain. Although Mr. Wilson warned she’d have stiffness and feel somewhat the worse today, she’d held onto a faint hope that he’d exaggerated in an effort to make her rest longer.

  No worries there. Her ankle throbbed and her side felt as though their horse had kicked her. She managed to sit on the edge of her bed and raised her nightgown. A dark blotch of deep purple and black blossomed down her right side and a quick glance at her ankle showed it to be still swollen, although not as badly bruised as her rib cage.

  Rain battered against the window and her thoughts flew to Lord George. He’d become soaked to the bone riding to Cambridgeshire. Maybe he’d delay his journey and pay them another courtesy visit. Her musings were interrupted by a gentle knock at the door and Mary poked her head around the corner, her eyes widening at the sight of Kitty’s bruised side.

  “Oh, Kitty, that looks perfectly dreadful.” She pushed the door open with her shoulder and advanced into the room carrying a tray with some tea and scones. “I brought you something to eat as I was sure you wouldn’t be able to join us downstairs. Mr. Wilson was quite perturbed when he heard you’d stayed downstairs last night and had dinner with us all.”

  “Mr. Wilson saw me in my night clothes?” Kitty gasped, horrified the good doctor may have entered the room to examine her and she hadn’t awakened.

  “No, when he heard you were still resting he stayed briefly to chat with Papa and assured us, and more to the point, assured Mama that rest was the best medicine before continuing on his way. He is a very practical man which is probably why Mama detests him.”

  Kitty’s shoulders slumped in relief. For a moment she worried the laudanum Lord Kerr added to her tea last night worked better than expected and she’d slept through the doctor’s examination. She must remember to thank him when he returned, for if it weren’t for her aching side and throbbing ankle, she felt most refreshed.

  Mary set down the tray and turned to leave.

&nb
sp; “Mary. Stay and have tea with me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We are sisters, are we not? All we have is each other now our siblings are married and moved away. I would like to think we can find common ground.”

  A small smile lit up her sister’s normally resolute features and Kitty was glad she’d asked her to stay.

  “I shall fetch another cup and be right back.” Mary turned to leave.

  “Would you ask Cook if she can spare some strawberry preserve? I know how much you like that.”

  “I will see what I can do.”

  Kitty settled against the pillows and while waiting for her sister, turned her thoughts toward the enigmatic Lord George. He perplexed her greatly. One minute she perceived great intellect, similar to Elizabeth and Darcy and then, like a coin turning over, he played the foppish fool. What was he hiding? Better yet, whom was he hiding from? The question played around her edges of her brain until Mary returned with a small bowl of preserves in one hand and an empty tea cup in the other.

  Within minutes both of them were enjoying their tea and a scone. Kitty couldn’t remember a time when she and Mary simply sat together, other than at church. In some ways, both of them were overlooked. Jane was the beautiful sister, Elizabeth the wit, and Lydia the favorite. When all five sisters lived within the walls of Longbourn, she and Mary had been afterthoughts to most people.

  She’d been the silly sister who followed Lydia in all things and Mary always behaved in a most pious manner, putting a damper on most of their activities. Well, not her activities per se. Mostly Lydia’s, which Kitty had happily engaged in until… well, until George Wickham entered their lives like a wild winter snowstorm.

  Once Lydia met him she became even more untamable. None of the family knew how many times she’d snuck out to meet him. Kitty had begged her to behave in a more circumspect manner until Lydia resorted to teasing, saying she was becoming ‘just like Mary’. Angry and hurt that her closest sister was abandoning her in favor of a man, she’d retorted she’d never be like Mary.