The Heart Does Whisper (Echoes of Pemberley Book 2)

by Cynthia Ingram Hensley

  “Sean, you’re preachin’ to the choir, son. Now sit down; you’re making me nervous.” Sean stopped pacing and looked at Hugh Middleton. “Sit,” he repeated.

  Sean went obediently back to his chair.

  “Thank you. Now before you get your feathers ruffled, you should know that there’s a fly in the ointment. The granddaddy isn’t Toby’s blood kin. Hell, he’s never even seen the boy. He was married to Toby’s grandma — his mother’s mama—who’s passed now. Truth is, Georgia’s hands might be tied. It’s all for the lawyers to sort out now.”

  “Then why do we have to let him visit with Toby?” Sean asked. “The man’s not related to him—doesn’t know him. What good can it do?”

  “That decision was made by Toby’s social worker. I don’t have a choice but to abide by her orders. Sorry, Sean. I realize this could do Toby more harm than good, but rules are rules.”

  “When?” Sean asked deflated.

  “Tonight.”

  Sean looked appalled. “Does Toby know?”

  “I told him soon as I came back. He just stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language…same as always.”

  “Damn,” Sean breathed, running a hand through his hair.

  “I know.” Dr. Middleton stood and started for the door but stopped and turned. “Let this be a lesson to you, Sean. Sometimes things are simply out of your power. You must learn to accept that.”

  Sean nodded.

  His face brightening, Dr. Middleton asked, “By the bye, how did our Catie do today?”

  “Terrific,” Sean told him proudly. “Something tells me I’m going to eat plates and plates full of my words over the next fifty years with that lass.”

  Dr. Middleton laughed. “And such is marriage, my friend!”

  Chapter 14

  Worrying about Toby’s visit with his grandfather and worrying about Gabriel, who had gone out without saying where, Sean could hear is mother’s cautionary voice in the back of his mind. “You’re borrowing troubles, Seany.” Sean took a cleansing breath; he was doing just that. He’d inherited his infernal bent on worrying from the very woman who so often warned him against it. “It’s your fault, Ma,” he answered her.

  Catie must have sensed his restlessness as well, for she had suggested they take a walk after dinner. He absently scanned her closet once more, looking for the ivory wrap she’d ask him to fetch after describing the item in great detail. Glancing around, he wished the blasted thing would suddenly come to life and identify itself among the array of other wraps, sweaters, shawls, and scarves. “What in the bloody hell does she need all this for?” he mumbled to himself. “Ivory? For Christ’s sake, we’re going for a walk. What does color matter?” Frustrated, Sean grabbed the closest thing to ivory he could find and headed downstairs.

  “That’s not ivory,” stated his wife when she saw it.

  “It’s nighttime, Catie, no one will be the wiser,” he replied as he motioned for her to turn around.

  Smiling, she turned her back to him and lifted her hair. “Thankfully, you have chosen a career in education instead of fashion design. London has been spared indeed.”

  Sean draped the wrap over her shoulders then pulled her against him and kissed her cheek. “My guess is there’s naught left in London, my love. I believe you have smuggled it all to America.”

  Pressing her back against his chest, his arms enfolding her, she replied lightly, “Actually, I only brought half my wardrobe.”

  He had been brushing her neck with kisses but stopped abruptly. “Half?” he croaked.

  “Yes,” she laughed. “Girls have lots of…things! Having only brothers, you wouldn’t know that.”

  “A good thing too; we didn’t have the cupboard space.”

  He opened the door, and she stepped outside and waited as he locked up. “Speaking of brothers…” she trailed off.

  He turned and looked at her. “Speaking of brothers, what?”

  She winced. “I shouldn’t say. I despise talebearers.”

  “Catie, if it concerns Gabe, I need to know.”

  “It’s probably nothing, but when I got home from lunch with Prissy...” Catie hesitated again.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “Well, he looked just awful and smelled as though he’d been…drinking.” She shook her head apologetically. “I wouldn’t mention it except it was so early in the afternoon.”

  Sean began quickly unlocking the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Stay here,” he told her as he rushed back in the house and up the steps. Sean entered his brother’s room and shut the door behind him. “Please, God,” he prayed, “don’t let me have been wrong.” Sure, Gabriel had had one too many a few times, but that wasn’t unusual for a man his age. All young chaps sow their wild oats. And Sean had been keeping a close eye on his brother. Other than the night Gabriel went out with Delia, he had been staying in—and sober. At least Sean thought he was staying sober. He’d even telephoned his father and told him Gabriel was fine. “Fine,” Sean breathed as a sick feeling told him Gabriel wasn’t fine at all. He searched under the bed and mattress and through drawers. Nothing. His heart racing, Sean looked at the closet and his stomach went tight with dread. Slowly, he opened the door and instantly smelled the sweet aroma of whiskey. In the floor was Gabriel’s duffel bag. In Sean’s gut, he knew what he would hear before his foot reached out and kicked it. There rang from the bag the distinct sound that empty bottles make when clanged together. “Damn it, Gabriel!” Sean hissed and leaned against the door casing, eyes closed in disgust.

  “Sean.” Catie’s voice came softly from the hall.

  “I told you to stay downstairs!” he barked back angrily.

  “I’m coming in,” she said, cautiously opening the bedroom door.

  Sean closed the closet and looked at her.

  “There are two policemen downstairs. They said they must speak with you about Gabriel.”

  When Sean was fifteen, a horse kicked him in the stomach. His wife’s words gave him the same sick sensation he’d felt that day. He ran by her.

  The alarm in Sean’s eyes made Catie remain still for several moments before making her way back to the staircase. As she slowly descended, she saw Sean rifling through the hall sideboard. “Is Gabriel all right?” she asked with the quiet reverence the situation seemed to call for.

  “Until I get hold of him, yeah,” he said shortly.

  Catie breathed a sigh of relief but saw that the officers stood waiting. Glancing nervously at them, she asked, “What are you searching for?”

  “My bloody checkbook,” he said, finding it as he spoke and stuffing it into his shirt pocket. He looked up at her. “I shan’t be long.”

  “I’m coming with you,” she said insistently, coming further down the steps.

  “I said, I shan’t be long,” Sean told her again. He stared at her for a long second then turned and left.

  Catie moved quickly to the large bay window to watch him leave, her heart breaking. Sean wished she wasn’t there. No, he didn’t say it, but he didn’t need to say it. She saw it in his eyes. She knew there were parts of Sean’s life he hadn’t shared with her—wouldn’t share with her—like Gabriel. Whatever his brother’s troubles were, Sean didn’t want Catie to have any part of them. It was as if her husband had looked into her soul and found there a delicate flaw that might crack if rattled. Her heart swelled with emotion, but she would not find a quiet corner to cry in. Her emotion was not sadness but determination. She was not fragile glass in need of a sure, strong hand and knew she must somehow find a way to make him understand that. She turned from the window to light the stove and put on the teakettle. Gabriel would need tea.

  In unison, the teakettle whistled loudly and the front doorbell rang. Catie turned off the stove, making the kettle fall gradually silent. “Coming,” she yelled, wondering if Sean had forgotten his key.

  On her stoop was a great big bear of a man. His salt and pepper hair and
ruddy complexion were as familiar to her as his sparkling blues eyes—the same eyes she woke up to each morning. “Mr. Kelly!” Catie exclaimed, unable to hide her shock.

  “I thought you and I’d already settled that, lass,” growled the bear.

  “What?” was all she was able to timidly squeak out before Seamus Kelly came in and gathered her into his great arms. The wool of his coat was rough on her face, but the hug was a welcomed one. She pulled back and found a smile beaming down at her.

  “Call me Da, Catherine, and don’t make me tell you again.”

  “Sorry, Da,” she said, smiling back. “I just haven’t grown accustomed to it yet.”

  “Forgiven.” He winked at her then looked carefully around the entrance hall. “Where are those cubs of mine?” Catie’s cheeks burned at his question, and her father-in-law was quick to notice her discomfort. “What’s the matter, Catherine?” Because his mother was also named Katherine, Seamus was the one person who never shortened her name.

  “Nothing is the matter, Da.” Catie smiled nervously. “The lads are…out. I’m not sure when to expect them. I’m so glad to see you, Da, but—”

  “But why am I here?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ve come to fetch Gabriel,” Seamus replied bluntly, shrugging off his coat.

  “I see,” she uttered with feigned casualness. Dear Lord, please let Sean hurry back. “Let me take your coat, Da. Would you like some tea with whiskey? I just heated the kettle.”

  “Keeps away the dew.” He grinned at her, seeming pleased she remembered how he took his tea. “And a sandwich wouldn’t come amiss. I haven’t had a morsel since Belfast.”

  Catie smiled at him more easily now. “Come through, Da. I’m sure we can find you something to eat.”

  “Emma and the boys send their love,” he told her as she busied herself with the tea and sandwich.

  “I’ve missed them all dreadfully. And you too.”

  She set down his sandwich, and he put his hand over hers. “Have you been terribly sick for home, lass?”

  “No.” Catie shook her head, but Seamus raised a rather fatherly brow at her. “Well, maybe a little,” she amended.

  “Emma and I have been worried sick about you children so far from home. Our Seany was born a true Irishman—a dreamer.”

  “Da,” Catie laughed softly. “That’s a good thing. Why, this country was built on dreamers—a great many of them Irish men and women.”

  “That’s the problem. Every time we raise up a dreamer, a child that might make a difference in the world we live in, they follow their star right out of Ireland. Shame that.”

  “Sean has no desire to stay in America,” she quietly assured him. “And neither do I.”

  “How have the two of you been getting on?”

  Before answering, Catie recalled the fatherly brow and replied honestly, “Sean and I haven’t seen eye to eye on every matter, but we’ve always managed to settle our differences.”

  “Jolly good.” He patted her hand softly. “Appreciate those bumps in the road, Daughter. Every storm you weather together brings you and your husband closer together.”

  The fact that Seamus Kelly called her “daughter” did not go unnoticed by Catie and took her somewhat off guard. However, as the word settled over her, it felt as warm as the hug he had given her when he first arrived. “Tell me about life back in Ballygreystone, Da.” Catie pulled out a chair and sat down. She was suddenly so glad he was there she nearly forgot about Sean and Gabriel.

  Ballygreystone, the small village in which Sean had grown up, was located on the western shore of the Strangford Lough in County Down. Named for the ruins of an ancient monastery that once inhabited a rise above the lough, the hamlet would be described as a place where the simple life still existed. It wasn’t unusual to see a jaunting car jogging down Quay Road or freckle-faced lads carrying fishing poles, hoping to cast their lines for a few hours before their mothers expected them for teatime. Although Catie had only visited Sean in Ballygreystone twice, she had a real affection for the place that had been her husband’s entire existence when he was a boy.

  Seamus wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his plate back. “Well, the women have gone daft with excitement because Mrs. Keegan—you know the widow that lives on the hill above the church?” Catie nodded but in truth had not a clue who Mrs. Keegan was. “She’s opened a hairdressing shop across from the butcher. She’s been doing those at-home permanent waves for the ladies for years. Oh, and Greystone Abbey sold…purchased by a Welshman who’s married to a highfalutin Parisian woman. Word is they plan on opening it as a guest house.” He chuckled. “Never mind that the last tourists who stayed past sunset took a wrong turn off the A and got their tires stuck in the mud on Shore Street.”

  Laughing with him, Catie picked up his empty plate and asked if he’d fancy something sweet when the sound of hushed voices drifted from the hall. Seamus stood, but Catie put a hand on his arm. “Wait here, Da. We’ll surprise Sean and Gabe.”

  He looked at her indulgently. “If you’ll forgive me, lass, this isn’t a pleasure holiday. I need to speak with Gabriel.”

  Knowing the truth was inevitable, Catie looked into his eyes and quietly told him, “Gabriel was arrested tonight, Da. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I didn’t know how. Please stay here. At least allow me to tell your sons you have come. I don’t know why, but I think it best.”

  Seamus visibly stiffened, his jaw clenching in the same way Sean’s did when he was in a temper. Had circumstances been different, the little family trait would have made her smile. Judging by his expression, Catie thought her father-in-law might refuse her request, but he conceded with a single, jerky nod.

  Her heart thumping in her chest, Catie hurried to the hall, stopping suddenly when she saw Gabriel. “Gabriel!” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. He was sporting a cut lip and a bluish, swelling left eye. “Are you all right?”

  Dabbing carefully at the cut with the back of his hand, Gabriel gave her a wan smiled that made him wince. “Better than the other bloke if that makes you feel any better, little sister.”

  Sean gave his brother a sharp look, but before he could say anything, Catie blurted out in an excited whisper. “Your father’s here!”

  “My father? Here?” Sean repeated incredulously.

  “Yes! He’s in the kitchen. He said he has come to fetch Gabe.” Both she and Sean looked at Gabriel.

  “Tell ’im I’ve gone to bed,” Gabriel said and started for the steps but didn’t make it far before Sean grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

  “Oh, no, Brother. I’ll not face Da alone.” He looked back at Catie. “Be a dear and kindly brew some coffee. Gabriel here’s going to need it.”

  With his steaming coffee cup, the liquid so hot he blew more than sipped, Gabriel retreated to the furthermost corner of the kitchen, saying nothing as Sean explained to their father that the Savannah Police Department had agreed not to press charges. Their only stipulation was that Gabriel made immediate plans to return to Northern Ireland.

  Seamus glanced at Gabriel’s silent hunched form then back to Sean. “Fine, eh? Is that your ideal of fine?”

  “Da…” Sean started, but Gabriel cut him off.

  “It’s not Sean’s fault. At least have the courtesy to give me the credit for my own feckin’ mistakes…if nothing else.” The last three words were mumbled, but they had heard him.

  Seamus pushed himself away from the table and stood. “Sounds as though you’re sober enough to give me an ear.”

  “Aye.” Gabriel looked his father square in the eye. “As a matter of fact, Da, I’ve something to tell you as well.” As Gabriel followed his father out of the kitchen, he felt against his jacket pocket for Tess’s letter. It was time his father knew the truth.

  In the parlor, the younger Kelly lowered himself into a mahogany framed chair covered in a white brocade fabric and placed his coffee cup on a small butler’s table to his s
ide. He looked like a defeated man that had come to the end of his line as he ran his fingers nervously through his dark sable waves, aware his father paced rather than sat. He hated when his father did that. “I’ve something to tell you, Da.”

  Seamus stopped and looked at his son. “I believe I already know what you’re going to say. Mr. McLaughlin called round the farm a few days ago.”

  Gabriel’s head flew up. “Mr. McLaughlin!”

  Seamus nodded. “And I’m fair disappointed in you, Gabriel. I may not have been the best father, but I was there. Your mam and I brought you up better than to shirk your responsibilities.”

  “It wasn’t because I wanted to!” Gabriel argued back hotly. “I swear to God, Da. You must believe me!”

  “Forgive me, Son, but taking off to America and burying your woes in a dozen bottles of Bushmills isn’t much testimony to your word.”

  “Christ!” Gabriel stood with such force the chair fell backwards. Leaving it, he stormed over to the window and stared out over the square, now washed in yellow lamplight. He said quietly, “For once in my miserable, bloody life, I did the right thing. I did ask Tess to marry me, Da.” He reached inside his jacket, pulled out Tess’s letter, and threw it back at his father. “Here’s her answer if you don’t believe me.”

  Seamus reached down and picked up the letter. From the well-worn feel of the paper, he could tell his son had read the words written within many heart-wrenching times.

  “It’s all there. Tess’s father refuses to allow her to marry me. He says I’ve no future other than being a farmhand at Kells Down. He’s naught but a bleedin’ teetotaler who doesn’t like that I’ve been known to frequent the pub.”

  Exhaling greatly, Seamus finally sat. “What this letter doesn’t say is Tess never told her father that she was with child. She’d hoped to get her daddy’s blessing without him ever finding out about the babe. When he did find out, he came lookin’ for ye, Gabriel. God knows what he would’ve done had he found you there, the state the man was in. Son, I’m pleased you wanted to do right by the lass but…why didn’t you come to me? I was right there.”