The Heart Does Whisper (Echoes of Pemberley Book 2)

by Cynthia Ingram Hensley

  Chapter 20

  There was an extremely long and uncomfortable silence between the two women. Annabelle Montague’s expression was a cold one—as cold, Catie envisioned, as the one with which a much younger Annabelle had gifted her mother before she stormed away from her over forty years before.

  “Their engagement was announced just after Margaret’s eighteenth birthday. They wed several years later at Leamount Grange’s ancient chapel. But I’m guessing you know all of that.” When Annabelle stopped speaking, Catie deliberately stood and stepped over to where her purse lay on the console by the door. Watching her, the older woman said, “So this is good bye, I suppose. I can’t say I blame you. Certainly you would not wish to stay any longer with a dying old woman who was so cruel to your mother.”

  Without answering Annabelle, Catie came back and sat down. She unfastened her purse and, after a moment’s search, carefully pulled a photograph from her wallet. She then handed it to Annabelle. “My brother had a copy of this made for me just before I was married. I wore the same dress when Sean and I said our vows. It is my hope that one day our daughter will wear it as well.” The photograph was a picture of Margaret Sumner on her wedding day.

  Annabelle stared at the picture for some time, her hands trembling ever so slightly. “You look even more like her than I remembered.”

  “Yes.” Catie swiped away a lone tear that raced down her cheek. “You should have seen the comparison when I had the wedding dress on.”

  Handing the picture back, Annabelle asked, “I might have flung that photograph back in your face, Catherine. What made you think I wouldn’t?”

  Catie shrugged as she put the picture back in her purse. “That bit you said about me finding it easier to dislike Margaret. My guess is you understood because you, too, found it easier to dislike her all these years. But you didn’t? Not really dislike her?”

  “No,” Annabelle breathed with a slight shake of her head. “I always thought Margaret and I would... When your mother died, time had run out, and I could never make things right between us. Who the hell dies at forty years old?”

  “Annabelle, you said you saw Daddy after mother died. That you went to England in hopes of rekindling your romance. Why weren’t you able to?”

  “I waited—bided my time to be sure William had finished mourning. But once again, I had arrived too late. Once again, your father was already in love with someone else. Thankfully, I had not put any great hope in my chances. Too much time had passed.”

  Catie shook her head. “But that’s impossible. There was no one.”

  “Four years after your mother died, William and I had dinner in London. He told me he was in love, and I could see in his eyes that he was. He spoke of the woman with great praise and admiration.”

  “Who?” Catie asked with great interest. “What was her name?”

  “I can’t remember.” Annabelle flipped her hand in a way that said the mystery woman’s name meant nothing to her, whereas Catie’s heart was about to beat right out of her chest to learn her identity. “However, I do know your father asked the woman to marry him.”

  Catie gasped. “But Daddy never did remarry.”

  “No,” said Annabelle. “He told me the lady had flatly refused him. If I remember, she was not from your father’s circles and had no desire to join those circles. So, according to William, they simply carried on behind the scenes.”

  “Behind the scenes!” Catie repeated incredulously. “Daddy would never—my father was an honorable man.”

  Looking as if she was somewhat enjoying the reaction from William’s daughter, Annabelle was unable to hide a slight grin. “Your father was a man, child, with the same needs as all men.”

  At that, Catie blushed. Of course, she knew her father was a man, but his “needs” were not something she wished pointed out to her. “I suppose that’s true,” she replied, looking at her hands and blushing even more liberally.

  The fall of footsteps told them that Robbins was approaching with someone. “That will be Sean,” said Catie, standing up.

  Unexpectedly, Annabelle reached out and grabbed her hand, her voice as urgent as her expression. “Please come back, child. Robbins has been steadfast in his service to me, but I do not wish to die alone. Please.”

  Although surprised by the outburst, Catie nodded reassuringly and promised, “I shall return tomorrow if you like.”

  Gazing into the younger woman’s eyes, Annabelle said, “You may think I have lived a wasted life, pining for a man who was never really mine, but I didn’t. I just never fell in love again. Happiness in love just wasn’t in the cards for me.”

  Catie smiled. “Do you know what my father-in-law would say to that?”

  Annabelle arched a brow at her. “Your Irish father-in-law, I presume.”

  “Yes, Annabelle, my Irish father-in-law, Seamus…my da. He would say, ‘Earth has no sorrows that Heaven cannot heal.’”

  Solemnly, Annabelle said, “Soon enough, I shall see. Eh?”

  “Eventually, we all shall see.”

  “Your husband waits just outside the door, Catherine, and I am too tired to speak any longer.”

  “I shall see you tomorrow then.” Catie gave the woman a soft peck on the cheek and left.

  When the Kellys were gone, Robbins helped Miss Montague to bed. Although the trip back upstairs was a long and tedious one, she insisted on sitting in the parlor each morning and returning to her bedchamber each night. “I do believe you were right about that girl, Robbins,” Annabelle said as they stopped on the landing halfway for a short rest. “She may be my deliverance. I suppose God wasn’t through with me after all.”

  “No, ma’am.” Gently, Robbins took her arm once again, and she leaned most of her weight on him as she climbed the last few steps. Then, as he had done since her arms had grown too weak to see to her own needs, the elderly butler readied Annabelle Montague for bed.

  ***

  From out of nowhere, Christmas Eve arrived, sneaking in the back door as the city hurried frantically about with last minute urgency. Catie had visited Annabelle Montague every day for the last couple of weeks, watching helplessly as life, quite at its own leisure, slipped away. It wasn’t long before the woman was completely bedridden and incoherent. “It’s the medicine,” Robbins told Catie, tucking the covers around his employer’s frail body because he needed something to do. “It keeps her from being in pain but robs her of any real consciousness.” Catie hated that Annabelle rarely woke when she sat with her, and when she did open her eyes, she stared at Catie as if she were a stranger to her.

  After breakfast that morning, Catie and Etta put the last decorations on the Christmas tree while Sean played his guitar and sang carols to them. At his request, Catie agreed to forgo her visit to Challongate. “What good does it do?” she said glumly, collapsing on the sofa with a heavy sigh. “Poor Annabelle doesn’t even know I’m there.”

  He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. “We shall spend the day together, wrapping presents and readying the house for Santie to come, and there will be no more talk of Annabelle Montague.”

  “All right.” She smiled at him. “Today should be about the first Christmas Eve of our marriage.”

  “The first of many.” He kissed her then pointed to the small stack of presents on the coffee table. “Now wrap!”

  She groaned but got up. “Sean.”

  “Yeah.”

  “This being your first Christmas Eve from home, I think we must have a wee talk about Santie before we go to bed tonight.”

  He tried to swat her backside, but she narrowly escaped, giggling as she sat down to her task. A short while later, Catie looked up from the bow she was tying on a hatbox, which contained a new Sunday hat for Etta, to see her husband taking yet another stealthy peek out the front window. “Sean,” she finally asked, baffled by his behavior. “I thought we were going to wrap gifts! So far, all you’ve accomplished is pacing a groove in the floor and checking the
window so often I’m beginning to fear you expect an invasion of some sort. Are marauders about? Should we hide ourselves away in the priest’s hole?”

  He smiled at that. “I’m doubtful there’s a great many priest holes in Savannah. And aren’t you a might cheeky for Christmas Eve. Remember, lass” —he wagged a finger at her—“naughty girls get naught but coal for Christmas.”

  “That’d be switches here in the South,” announced Etta, bringing in a plate of freshly baked Christmas cookies.

  “Ouch.” Sean winced at the thought, following the plate like a little boy. “Those are some fine smellin’ biscuits, Miss Etta.”

  She gave him a sharp look. “They’s cookies—not biscuits. You folks have funny names for everything.” She threw her thumb at Catie. “Do you know what her majesty called an umbrella the other day?”

  “A brolly?” he chanced.

  “That’s it!” Etta nodded. “Funny words! Just speak English for goodness sake.” As Etta set the cookies on the table beside the Christmas tree, something on the street caught her attention. “Lord be! Will you look at that?”

  “What is it?” Catie rushed over to see.

  In front of the townhouse, a shiny black limousine was pulling up to park on the narrow street, the chrome so brilliant it caught a stream of sunlight and bounced it back skyward. Sean joined the gawking by leaning over top of their heads. The driver got out and came round the front of the car, heightening their anticipation.

  “I wonder who it could be?” Etta said softly, as if she were afraid of being overheard.

  “Probably someone for the Maydens,” replied Catie, also whispering. “At their Christmas party last week, there was a parade of limos.”

  “Why don’t we just go out and greet whoever has come!” Sean enthusiastically suggested. “’Tis Christmas after all!” Both women turned and shushed him. “Right. Reckon we’ll just watch from the window then.”

  When the driver opened the door, two identical little boys came quickly out of the car, making Catie’s hand fly to her mouth in a gasp.

  “Who? What?” Etta asked.

  “It’s…it’s my family,” she answered slowly as if her eyes were deceiving her.

  “Happy Christmas, Catie,” Sean whispered, and she turned to him, her eyes already welled with tears. He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “The surprise was supposed to make you happy, silly girl.”

  “I am happy,” she cried. “Oh, Sean, how in the world did you get Bennet Darcy to leave Pemberley at Christmastime.”

  He looked down at her then. “I told him about this Annabelle Montague business. I told him how you’ve grieved your wee heart sore over that woman’s illness. I told him that you needed him, and he came. Didn’t I tell you he’d swim the bloody ocean to get to you if he had to?”

  “Thank you,” she said, wiping her eyes.

  “Go on then, lass.” He smiled at her, his own bright blue eyes sparkling with emotion to see her so happy. “They’ll be waitin’ for you.”

  Catie hurried to the door as Sean and Etta watched again from the window. There was a great show of hugging and kissing as the Darcys each greeted Catie in turn. “Do you know how many weeks I’d have to work to ride from the airport in that thing?” grumbled Etta.

  “Aye, I’d say near as many as meself,” Sean concurred. He took a deep breath and plastered a huge smile across his face. “Well, here goes, Miss Etta. What’s Christmas without the in-laws? Am I right?”

  Shaking her head, Etta laughed. She watched the happy reunion in delight until the tall, unhappy-looking man reached inside the car and carefully brought out a tiny, sleeping child. The little, round face and bouncy curls all bore such a striking resemblance to Catie, Etta’s eyes went round. “Dear Lord, her majesty has a junior.”

  Restless from the long trip, Geoffrey and George set out to explore the square in front of the house while Ben and Sarah tucked soundly sleeping Eliza Jane in bed. Tiptoeing, they came back down to the kitchen where Catie was busy making tea.

  “Is she still asleep?” she asked, motioning for them to have a seat across from Sean. “The tea will be ready shortly.”

  “Thankfully,” Sarah exhaled in a tired breath as she settled gratefully into the chair Ben pulled out for her. “Poor child has been terribly off her schedule since we left London yesterday.”

  “Yesterday!” Catie exclaimed.

  “We were delayed overnight at JFK because of weather.” Ben grimaced as he sat down. “The five of us slept in a wretched excuse for a hotel room with my wife’s posterior—lovely as it may be—wedged in my back all night long.”

  “I couldn’t help it!” Sarah argued, “Eliza took up most of the bed.”

  “But you finally made it!” Catie put down the tea and hugged her brother’s neck. “And I couldn’t be happier to set my eyes on anyone today than you, Bennet Darcy!”

  Exhausted as he was, Ben patted her arm, unable to stay cranky with a sister so overjoyed to see him. “Yes, Sis, we made it. And I’m confident by the third time we retell these trials, we shall all have a great laugh.”

  “The third time?” Sean questioned.

  “My father used to say it takes a man three times retelling his misfortunes before he is able to see the humor in them.”

  “That’s the spirit, Ben!” Catie kissed his cheek then sniffed the air and rushed back to the stove. “My scones are about to burn!”

  Ben and Sarah’s eyes met in bewilderment, making Sean laugh. “Catie’s quite the wee baker now; you’ll soon enough see.”

  “Is that so?” said Sarah, watching her young sister-in-law with great interest. Practically humming, Catie loaded a tray with small plates, marmalade, butter, and the hot scones. The girl who burned toast, sighed loud enough to be heard when company kept her indoors too long, and complained relentlessly during her lessons in tea service was suddenly completely at ease preparing their refreshment.

  Catching Sarah’s scrutiny, Catie smiled. “I know. I was an incorrigible student of any and all domestic pursuits, dear sister, but you may take solace in knowing that many of the seeds you and Rose planted have finally begun to sprout.”

  “I never doubted that they would,” Sarah replied as convincingly as possible. In truth, however, although Sarah Darcy liked Sean very much, she genuinely worried about Catie marrying him. She had even lain awake a few nights, wondering how the young couple would fair after the honeymoon was over and everyday life set in. But clearly they had managed, and Sarah was proud of Catie for it.

  “How’s Rose?” Catie asked, putting the tray on the table and sitting down beside Sean.

  “Vexed,” Ben said without humor and then perfectly imitated Pemberley’s long-time and well-loved housekeeper. “And her ‘poor nerves have been tried indeed.’”

  Chuckling, Sarah clarified, “Before our plans to come were made, Rose had already promised to spend Christmas in Ireland with the Kellys. She would never disappoint Emma, but she was beside herself about missing a chance to see the two of you.”

  Catie wrapped her hand around Sean’s and said, “Sean and I will telephone Ballygreystone first thing in the morning. No one can put a smile on Nan’s face like he can.”

  Ben picked up a scone, broke it in half, and began buttering it. If he was trying to create an air of nonchalance, he failed. For, though Sean was expecting the next question, he was surprised that his brother-in-law broached the subject only ten minutes in the door. “Speaking of the Kellys, Sean, I understand your brother Gabriel came for an extended stay.”

  “And that he is now married,” Sarah added. “Your mother must be thrilled to have two new daughters-in-law.”

  Of course, the Darcys would know that Gabriel had come to America. What they didn’t know—and was clearly their burning question—were the circumstances behind Gabriel’s visit. Sean might have laughed at his in-laws’ lacking subtlety had he not felt a quick burn of resentment in his stomach. What bloody business is it of theirs anyway? He gla
nced at Catie, and she met his eyes with encouragement, telling him that it was best to tell all, that there was no reason to be ashamed. Looking away from her, he swallowed and replied, “Aye, Gabriel needed a wee holiday before sayin’ his vows. A case of the cold feet, I reckon.”

  Catie prayed her expression wasn’t betraying her disappointment in her husband’s answer, as her brother’s gaze felt as if it was boring through her. She said, “Sean and I enjoyed Gabriel’s visit very much.”

  A quiet fell over the table, leaving the cock-and-bull reply hanging in the room as thick as the aroma of the recently baked scones. Mercifully, a tiny, shrill voice came suddenly from somewhere in the house, growing closer and yelling, “Auntie! Auntie!”

  They all chuckled as the patter of small feet scampered wildly through unfamiliar rooms, searching for a favorite aunt who had been gone from home far too long for a three-year-old.

  “I’m right here, Eliza Jane!” Catie answered as the child ran into the kitchen, propelled herself onto her aunt’s lap, and began showering Catie’s cheeks with a rapid succession of kisses.

  “Slow down there, wee ’Liza.” Grinning, Sean leaned over and said, “Or there’ll be none left for me.”

  “That’s just silly, Uncle Sean,” Eliza imperiously informed him. “I know how to make more.”

  ***

  Sean awoke before the sunrise Christmas morning, precariously close to the edge of the bed and his wife practically on top of him. His limbs were painfully contorted, and his neck ached like he had slept in a barrel. “Catie,” he said, nudging her, “move over a bit will ya?”

  “Shhhh.” She put her finger to her lips and pointed to the other side of the bed.

  He peeked over her side and saw Eliza Jane, arms thrown over her head, legs sprawled, sleeping deeply.

  “She came in during the night,” Catie whispered, smiling sweetly at her niece.