"My lady?" Mrs. Morgan interrupted Catherine's thoughts.
"Mrs. Morgan, pardon me for asking, who was the girl who helped me dress the other morning? I am having trouble recalling."
Mrs. Morgan frowned, her dark eyebrows pulled together in a most terrifying way. Catherine took a step back to avoid the accusing gaze of the housekeeper. She must think I am a petty simpleton.
"Miss Larson has been your lady's maid since you arrived at Thornwood Abbey; there has been no one else."
Catherine opened her mouth to object, but the firm gaze of the housekeeper held her tongue. She knew this could not be true; Miss Smith--or whatever her name had been--had auburn hair and was much younger. While Miss Larson was middle aged with gray-streaked blond hair and pronounced crow's feet at her eyes. Why would Mrs. Morgan lie to me? Could I have made some mistake?
"Catherine, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come in," Mrs. Oakheart said as she strode across the entryway. Her shoes clicked on the hardwood, and she beamed at her sister-in-law in a would-be inviting way if Catherine were not terrified of her. Catherine had never been one that was at ease in the company of others, and Mrs. Oakheart, who seemed to exude life, overshadowed Catherine in more ways than one.
Catherine looked to Mrs. Morgan for direction, wondering if she should still go upstairs to change. Mrs. Morgan did not come to Catherine's assistance.
"Come, I've brought guests. I thought you would not mind." Mrs. Oakheart linked arms with Catherine and dragged her into the parlor. She would have preferred no company at all, but it was too late to tell them to leave now that they were here. A pair of women sat chatting as if at ease in their own home and not a guest in Catherine's. They were identical in almost every way. They were young and pretty with dark hair and full pouting lips. They had long oval faces with high cheekbones and thin brows over blue eyes. The only thing that distinguished them from one another was the woman on the right wore pink and the woman on the left wore purple. They turned in unison as Catherine and Mrs. Oakheart entered.
"Catherine, these are my dear friends Miss Camellia Bloom and her sister, Miss Delphine Bloom."
They stood together as one as if they were two halves of one whole. "What a delight to meet you at last," said Miss Camellia--the sister in pink.
"Lydia has spoken nothing but your praises," said Miss Delphine--the sister in purple.
Catherine flushed under their praises and wrung her hands together, not certain what to say.
Mrs. Oakheart took control from there. "Come, sit, let us all talk and get to know one another." She led Catherine over to the couch, without releasing their linked arms.
She was wedged onto a couch between Mrs. Oakheart and the Bloom sisters.
"I love your hair, such a charming style; is that how they wear their hair in your neighborhood? I heard you lived in London or not far from it? Are you acquainted with Miss Colton or Miss Williams?" Miss Camellia asked.
She hardly paused to take a breath before her sister chimed in as well with a litany of questions. Catherine sat dazed as their words washed over her. They did not wait for an answer. They seemed content to hear themselves speak. Without Catherine's input, the conversation naturally flowed into other topics. The three other women began discussing neighborhood gossip, past balls, and other social events they had attended. Catherine was out of her depth.
The sisters and Mrs. Oakheart seemed to have forgotten Catherine was there at all until Mrs. Oakheart addressed her directly. "Now, tell us, Catherine." She had assumed the use of Catherine's Christian name. Though Catherine could claim no real affection for the woman, she felt it would be rude to correct her. She was, after all, her husband's sister. "I must know your and my brother's torrid love story."
Catherine fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the combined scrutiny of her guests. She preferred it when they were speaking at her, but to be at center stage had never been something she was comfortable with.
"We met at a dinner party of one of my father's friends. The host, Mrs. Wells, asked if I would sit with him since he had no escort for the evening."
"And I am sure he was charmed by your exceptional conversational skills," Mrs. Oakheart said.
Catherine colored, unsure if it was an intentional dig at lacking social graces or an unwarranted compliment. She decided to give her husband's sister the benefit of the doubt.
"No, we actually spoke not a word that night. However, the next day we ran into one another while I was walking with Mother in the park. He strolled with us down the street and then took his leave."
"Just like Edward, always a gentleman," Mrs. Oakheart said to the Bloom sisters, who nodded their heads in unison.
Catherine continued her tale, not entirely certain if she should. Miss Camellia fidgeted with a loose string on the hem of her sleeve, and Miss Delphine was focused on stirring sugar into her cup. Only Mrs. Oakheart kept her gaze locked on Catherine, a half-smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "The day after that he came to call. We sat in my parlor, exchanged a few words, and then he left."
Catherine frowned at this next part; after this it became a bit muddled. Recounting their courtship sounded strange to her own ears. It had been a brief courtship, to say the least. It spanned a total of a month, including preparations for the wedding.
"Oh, go on!" Miss Delphine said with a shared look with her sister that made Catherine think they thought this all a joke.
"At the end of the following week, he asked Poppa for my hand and he agreed, and then he asked me and I agreed," Catherine said in a rush, hoping once the story was revealed Mrs. Oakheart or one of the sisters would take charge of the conversation.
"How romantic," Mrs. Oakheart said with a tilted smile. "I must say, it came as a bit of a shock to us all back at home. Why, before he left, Edward could talk of nothing but Miss Mary Ashton. I thought for sure he would marry her."
Catherine sat up a bit straighter. Edward never mentioned a previous lover. Is that not something married couples share with one another? Catherine scrutinized Mrs. Oakheart. This may well be some sort of jibe at Catherine's expense. It would not be the first time Catherine had been subject to such treatment. She wanted desperately to ask her more but dared not. She feared it would make her look jealous. If he had been taken with Miss Ashton before I met him, why ask me to marry him? I never even stopped to consider the rush of it all. We hardly knew one another; I still do not know much about him. A chill crept up her spine. Catherine tried to recall a glance or a gesture before his proposal that Edward had interest in her, but she could not think of a single one. What if he had chosen her because this woman had scorned him? Was her marriage a charade?
"A charming girl, Mary, we are quite close, since we grew up together. Her and her brother often came and played with us on the grounds. I would insist you include her and her parents on the guest list for the ball. Edward would be cross if you did not; they were almost family." Mrs. Oakheart smiled, and Catherine's heart constricted. She wishes Miss Ashton had married her brother instead of me; I can see that plainly.
"What other sort of entertainment will you have at the ball, aside from dancing?" Miss Delphine asked.
Catherine stared forward, her mind racing. She had not the slightest idea what sort of entertainment should be available at a ball, seeing as she had never been to one. Crowds caused her a panic, and just the thought of the ball filled her with dread.
"I..." She swallowed past her fear. "I was hoping Mrs. Oakheart might have some suggestions for me," Catherine said.
"Please, call me Lydia, if you would," she replied with another brilliant but insincere smile. She turned to the Bloom sisters and said, "What do you most enjoy at a ball?"
"Well, music is always a welcome addition," said Miss Camellia.
Lydia clapped her hands together and turned to face Catherine more fully. There was a glint in her eye that had Catherine wishing she could run away. "Catherine, you must play something."
Cath
erine shook her head with vehemence and threw up her hands, waving them back and forth as if the very action would ward away the unwanted notion. "No, I have no real talent. We had a pianoforte, but I was never very good at it." Catherine felt sick to her stomach. She wished she could excuse herself but feared she'd insult her guests.
"Certainly." Lydia's smile turned triumphant. "Perhaps Mary will agree to play for us, then. She is an accomplished pianist."
"Mary is a wit as well," Miss Delphine added. "I was out to dinner with her before she left for Town, and she told me the most delightful joke."
"Oh, do share!" Lydia enthused.
Lydia stood up so she could sit between the sisters, and the three of them leaned close together, their foreheads near pressed together as they whispered amongst themselves. Catherine was relegated to the fringes of their circle. The sisters laughed at the same time, even the sound of their laughter was in sync. Catherine stood and pretended she needed to stretch. She could see the three of them from the corner of her eye, smirking as they giggled at the joke.
"Yes, Mary is a delight. No party is really worth attending without her," said Lydia with a sigh.
Catherine had her back to them, but she was certain this was said for her benefit. She would not be able to get away with not inviting her husband's former lover to the ball.
"I look forward to making her acquaintance," Catherine said without any real feeling. She pressed her hand to the window. The cool outside helped to dissipate some of the heat that was burning her skin. She looked out across the lawn. For once the fog was thin, though not gone entirely. From this side of the house, she could see the woods. A mist clung to it still, and she almost thought she saw figures darting about between the tangled oaks, jumping from branch to branch. She shook her head. It must be my eyes playing tricks on me again.
"I was considering having some ladies over for tea," Lydia said. "Maybe we can arrange it so you can meet Mary." There was no arguing with Lydia, not that Catherine would have raised her voice in protest.
Catherine gripped the sill of the window to keep from swaying on her feet. She bit her tongue from shouting an emphatic "no!" The very idea of meeting her husband's former lover was the most distasteful thing in the world.
A large shadow walked through the mist that cloaked the forest and grabbed Catherine's attention. When it came to the forest edge, Catherine could see it was a tall man with long limbs. Lydia was speaking to the Bloom sisters, but their voices had faded to a dull buzz. Mr. Thorn stepped out from the forest and crossed the lawn towards the garden at an easy pace, as if he were on a leisurely stroll. The mist rose, and he was swallowed up by it, and she could no longer track his progress. Shouldn't he be working? I cannot say for certain he is not. Perhaps he is and they are planning on clearing out those wild woods. Whatever the reason, it was not her concern, though she waited a few moments to see if he did reappear. When he did not, she turned back to her guests and put on a brave face for the remainder of their visit.
Though Catherine tried to put it from her mind, she could not stop thinking about Lydia's veiled allusions about Miss Ashton. She thought it would be better to forget, but despite her own best judgment, she decided to ask Edward about it outright. She practiced a few different speeches, perfecting the least threatening way to approach the topic. When Edward slid into her room late that night in his nightclothes, she still had not found the courage to broach the subject. For the past three nights, Edward had shared her bed, and as he had promised, he had done his duty as a husband. Catherine was no longer a maiden. She had thought with a new carnal knowledge of her husband she would feel more at ease in his presence, but she continued to find herself tongue-tied around him.
He slid beneath the covers and wrapped his arm around her waist. He kissed her, and for a moment she lost herself in the feel of his breath mingling with hers and the taste of his mouth. He pulled back and gave her a heavy-lidded smile. All her practiced speeches flew out the window.
He leaned in and kissed the curve of her neck and down to the skin at the edge of her nightgown. A growing heat coiled in her belly and spread between her legs. She leaned back against the pillows, letting him caress her, his fingertips tracing the curve of her hip down to the space between her thighs. Then at the most inopportune time, Miss Ashton popped back into her head. The heat died, leaving behind only a bitter cold.
"Edward?" She gasped.
"Yes, darling?" he said between kisses.
"Lydia came by this afternoon to help me with planning the ball," she said, though her voice shook.
Edward slid his hand beneath her gown and grasped her breast. She inhaled sharply. "That's nice, dear," he murmured as he massaged her.
She took another shuddering breath. I have to say it now or I never will.
"Who is Miss Ashton?" she said in one breath.
His hand stilled and then slid out from beneath her gown. He sat back on the bed and looked at her for a moment, a puzzled expression on his face.
"What brought this about?" he asked.
Catherine looked down at her hands on the coverlet. They were small and pale. "Lydia mentioned Miss Ashton; she said you were close." She could not bring herself to admit that her husband may have had more than a casual affection for another woman.
He did not answer right away, and the silence only seemed to prove her worst fears. "We are neighbors, and she used to play with my sisters. I would not call our relationship intimate."
She should have been relieved, but there was a certainty to Lydia's words that afternoon, and Catherine could not let it go. "Lydia said that you were... well..."
"Spit it out!" Edward snapped.
Catherine jumped. Edward had never raised his voice with her before. She fumbled to get the words out. "She said that you were lovers. That she expected you to marry Miss Ashton before you left for London."
Once the words were spoken, Catherine realized they could not be unsaid. Edward threw back the covers and jumped out of the bed. Agitation was written across his back. His shoulders were tight as he laced up his nightshirt. She wanted to reach out for him to take him back into her bed and let him kiss her until she forgot everything but him. It was too late for that now.
"Honestly, Catherine, I thought you were above these petty things. Miss Ashton is a friend. That, I will admit. To say I..." He could not choke out the words. For a moment their eyes met, and she saw the truth in them. Edward loved Miss Ashton.
"You're right. I apologize for bringing it up."
He stood at the bedside, his arms folded over his chest. His shirt ties were undone, and she could see the sprinkling of blond hairs across his chest. She should ask him back to bed, soothe him with her body as a wife should, but she could not, knowing that she was second to another woman.
"I think I will sleep in my own room tonight. Goodnight, Catherine." He stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Catherine lay back down and wept.
Chapter Six
It was a rare bright and sunny day. Sunlight fell in beams upon the carpet like ribbons of gold. Edward stared out the window to the garden beyond, his mind wending its way through a labyrinth of emotions. He had been brooding over his fight with Catherine all morning. Perhaps I overreacted; Lydia was just making mischief as usual. I have not seen nor thought of Mary Ashton in... He could not complete the thought. His memories as a whole were a bit foggy. It was fatigue, he was certain of it. He had tossed and turned all night after his fight with Catherine; then he had woken to be informed another tenant farmer had gone missing. That was three now that had up and left without notice. Edward pinched his brows and then rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.
He pushed back his office chair and went down the hall. I need fresh air. I cannot stay locked up another moment longer. He contemplated finding Catherine and apologizing. However, just thinking about her accusation made his blood boil. He decided distance was needed to repair their sore feelings. He passed a window that faced towards the drive and p
aused. A slender woman walked down the lane, she wore a bonnet pulled forward, disguising her features. Her gown was practical if not a bit plain in a gray color. She disappeared around the corner, turning into the walk that led to the front door. The locket in his breast pocket burned against his chest. Edward touched it absentmindedly. I might as well go and see who has come to call; perhaps it will distract me from my worries for a moment. He headed for the foyer to greet his guest.
Mr. Hobbs was at the door taking his guest's coat. She slid out of her coat and untied the laces of her bonnet, letting it fall back to reveal her golden hair. Afternoon light coming from a high window above the front entry picked out platinum highlights in her hair. Her face was round with almond-shaped eyes and expressive pink lips that were turned up in a smile as she caught him staring.
"Mary," he whispered her name. How could he have forgotten how beautiful she was? Her very presence lit up the room. What am I thinking? I am a happily married man.
"Lord Thornton, I did not expect to see you about at this time of day." She swept across the floor towards him. Her very movements were liquid. The small sashay of her hips was entrancing.
He forced his eyes up to look into her eyes. They were bright blue, dancing with amusement.
"Miss Ashton, I had thought you were going to be in town for the remainder of the season," he said in way of greeting. "I am equally astonished to see you!" Edward's voice rang out too loud and echoed back at him. He sounded too pleased. If Catherine heard, she might draw the wrong conclusions. He glanced about as if expecting Catherine to burst into the room and accuse him of infidelity.
She tilted her head to regard him. "I read news of your marriage in the society papers and I knew I had to return home and meet your wife. Besides, the season can become such a bore; it is nothing but a string of endless parties and dancing, don't you agree?"
He laughed, not certain what he was laughing for. "Yes, I never liked going to town. Country life is so much more... simple," he said. The locket was burning hot and uncomfortable against his breast. He extracted it from his pocket. It looked no different from before, but it pulsed with growing warmth.
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