Mary touched her fingers to her lips. "Edward," she said in a hushed tone. The informal use of his Christian name startled him, and he met her wide blue eyes. "You kept my locket, even after all this time?"
The memory came back in a rush; the locket had been Mary's from when they were children. They had exchanged treasures when they were very small. He had given her his favorite bird's nest. How did it end up behind the dresser? I wonder.
"May I see it?" she asked. She pressed one hand to her chest, the other held out in front of her, fingers folded over into her palm as if she were holding back from reaching out for it.
He held it up to her in the palm of his hand. She plucked it from his hand and her fingers touched him. It was an innocent brush of skin, but his flesh tingled with sensation. Mary looked away, a blush coloring her cheeks; she had felt it too. It was coming back to him little by little. It had always been this way with Mary; there was a magnetic charm that drew people to her.
She traced the tree pattern on the locket with her finger as he had the night he found it. The night of Catherine's welcome dinner. You have not forgotten your wife, have you, Edward? What would she think if she saw you alone with Miss Ashton?
"I am pleased you came to call. I would like for you to meet my wife, Catherine. Let me see if she has returned from her morning exercise." He strode over to the pulley to summon Mrs. Morgan. He could feel Mary's eyes on him watching. He hesitated a moment before returning to Mary. The electric feeling had not left his body; indeed it seemed to be coursing through him looking for an escape.
He turned back around and joined Mary as they waited for the housekeeper. Mary had untied a ribbon from around her head and strung the locket on it. She held it out for him to take.
"I cannot accept this. It was yours and it should return to your possession," he said. It is not appropriate for me to keep a token of another woman's. It might give her the wrong impression about my intentions.
"Please, Lord Thornton, it has been in your possession far longer than mine. Items such as this, they absorb the spirit of the bearer, and it would be more comfortable in your company, I suspect."
He frowned at her odd wording. He held out his hand nonetheless since he seemed to have little choice in the matter. She does not seem to attach any special meaning to me keeping it, and it is a pretty trinket. He slid the ribbon and locket into his breast pocket once more. It was cool to the touch once again. I must have imagined the heat.
Mrs. Morgan came at his summons and informed them that Catherine was in the conservatory. They walked there together, reminiscing about their childhood. Mary pointed out a few of her favorite hiding places and recounted a tale in which she had broken a very expensive vase. Mrs. Morgan had scolded her severely for it, Mary would have him believe. He recalled a different tale in which Edward himself had broken the vase and Mary had taken the blame to spare him the lecture. He smiled to think of it. She is thoughtful and modest, she must remember what really happened, but she is sparing me my pride.
The conservatory on the southeast corner of the house boasted high arches with glass panes that took advantage of the best light of the day. Enormous ferns dominated the room. There were a few exotic plants from the Indies that his cousin Henry had brought back with him from his travels. Among them were a few pots of dahlias; their bright hues were splashes of color against a sea of green. Catherine was seated at a table in the center of the room, a book open on the table, a cup of tea adjacent to it.
When they entered, Catherine stood to greet them. She gave a tentative smile to Edward, and then her gaze fell on Mary and her smile visibly slid. Edward was unaware of his close proximity to Mary until his wife looked at him with hurt and accusation in her eyes. His shoulder nearly brushed against Mary's; they had drifted together as they walked and talked. He took a discreet step away from Mary and towards his wife.
Catherine held her hands at her side, but her hands were balled into fists. She is still cross with me after our fight. I was a fool to bring Mary here; it will only make me look more the villain. It was too late to turn back now, when the damage was done. He decided to introduce the two women. "Catherine, dearest, this is my friend Miss Ashton."
"How do you do," Catherine said in a hushed way.
"I apologize for coming unannounced. I was so eager to meet you, I forgot my manners," Mary said.
"Think nothing of it, I have made too many errors to count since arriving at Thornwood," Catherine said in a rare moment of candidness. She even seemed surprised by her forthright speech. Her eyes were as large as saucers.
Mary smiled. "I imagine it is difficult coming to a new place. You'll adjust in time, I am certain."
Catherine gave her a rueful smile. It was a strange expression upon her normally sweet face. She then turned back to Edward. "I am surprised you did not mention she was beautiful as well as charming." She nodded towards Miss Ashton, who blushed and looked at flowers nearby, pretending she could not hear them conversing.
Edward held back his sharp return. He had not thought Catherine was one for petty jabs, but he was learning more about his wife every day. "It is not my place to assess a woman's beauty but that of my own wife's, which is without equal."
Catherine rolled her eyes in a most unladylike fashion. Edward was abashed. Mary at least had the decency to pretend not to notice. Though she surely had seen, and he was embarrassed for Catherine.
He took a step towards Catherine, intent on correcting her behavior, when Mary interjected, "That is a sweet sentiment, Lord Thornton. Every woman hopes her husband would say such flattering things in front of another woman. Am I right, Lady Thornton?"
"Most assuredly," said Catherine with a sardonic smile that mismatched her normal persona.
He touched her on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "Are you feeling well? You are not acting yourself."
She shrugged off his touch. "I am familiarizing myself with your dear friend Miss Ashton. Nothing more."
Catherine crossed the floor, and Edward felt pinned to the spot as Catherine stood before Mary. They were of a height, but their coloring was night and day. Mary was so bright that the plants seemed to turn their faces toward her to soak in her radiance. Catherine, on the other hand, was slight with dark hair and shadows that seemed to cling to her, making even the well-lit conservatory dim.
"I wonder if I ought to be jealous of you, Miss Ashton," Catherine said. Her expression failed to match her words. She appeared mortified and in disbelief over the tone and character of her words.
"I am no threat to you, Lady Thornton. I can see Lord Thornton is madly in love with you. How could I hope to come between you?"
Catherine laughed. "Perhaps if you had a larger dowry to your name, I would need to be concerned."
Catherine's pale cheeks were flaming red as she pressed her hand over her mouth as if to prevent any more hateful things from falling out. This was a shocking side of Catherine he had not expected. Mary's cheeks in contrast were a delicate pink. She took the insult with grace.
"I would think Lord Thornton is looking for more than money in marriage," Mary said in response. Her eyes flickered in his direction. It was a shy glance, but it made his heart beat faster.
They held one another's gaze, and the conservatory and even Catherine seemed to fade away. Did I make the wrong choice in marrying Catherine? Everything was a mad rush, and I can no longer think of the reason why.
"Please excuse me, I am feeling a bit faint. I believe I've had too much sun," Catherine said. Her voice was hoarse.
He spared her a passing glance. Her skin was flushed a rosy color, but he doubted it was from the sun. He could see the horror as the full weight of her words settled upon her.
"I think that would be for the best," he said in a tone that insisted she depart.
"Perhaps I should leave as well," Mary said. Her eyes darted between Catherine and him. She's trying to spare us the embarrassment. She is uncommonly thoughtful.
Edward
turned to her and showed his back to Catherine. "Don't go. We have so much catching up to do."
"I think it might be for the best." Mary nodded in Catherine's direction. Catherine flushed further and looked down at her feet. He wished she would leave so he could make his apologies to Mary, alone.
"Please do not trouble yourself on my account," Catherine said. "I am more fatigued than I imagined. It may be best if I go and lie down." Catherine headed for the door.
Neither of them moved to stop her, though her leaving seemed to take an eternity. When the door to the conservatory closed behind her, he felt the space between Mary and himself charged with tension.
"I must apologize for my wife's behavior; she has not been herself." Or she is not the woman I thought she was.
Mary shook her head and looked over to a nearby dahlia. It was indigo with full petals spread out like a starburst. "Please do not; she has a right to be angry with me."
"Her behavior is inexcusable; you are a guest in our house." He reached out to touch her. It was a careless gesture, he thought he might comfort her, but that would be inappropriate.
Mary looked at his hand reaching for her and she cupped it in her own. She folded his hand in hers and turned over to face the palm up. She pressed a kiss there and glanced up at him from behind her burnished gold lashes.
"She has every right to be angry with me because I am in love with her husband."
Chapter Seven
Catherine's limbs were leaden as she made her way down the stairs. She had refused to let Miss Larson style her hair that morning. She could not stand letting anyone touch her. She felt filthy. She was less than a worm for having said all those cruel things to Edward and Miss Ashton. How could I have said such a thing to them? It was as if I were not in control of my own body. No matter how hard I tried, I could not stop the hateful words from spilling out.
Mr. Hobbs and the three footmen were lined up against the far wall beside the banquet table as Catherine entered the morning room. They wore their usual uniforms of black coats with crisp white under shirts. The pleats in the shirts were perfect and symmetrical. Mrs. Morgan ran a strict household; not even a hair was out of place on any of the men's heads. Mr. Hobbs stepped forward, preparing to lift lids and ladle whatever she desired onto a plate for her. There were five different silver servers laid out on the banquet. A bright white lace runner lay beneath it. I do not deserve this splendor; the servants jump to the slightest twitch of my hand when I have shamed my husband in the most grievous way.
Catherine wandered over to the banquet, expecting the servants to judge her for her infractions. Mr. Hobb's expression was blank.
"My lady, how shall I serve you?" He motioned to the numerous platters.
Food sounded most unpalatable, but she settled on a piece of toast and a cup of tea. She sat down at the breakfast table. Mr. Solomon pulled out her chair for her, and she thanked him, to which he returned the sentiment with a stiff nod. Someone had set out the society pages. She glanced over it briefly, not much one for gossip. She shifted through it restlessly, nibbling at her toast and choking on it.
The door at the far end of the room opened and Catherine glanced up, startled. She expected Mrs. Morgan to arrive and scold her for insulting her master but found instead Edward strolling in with a bright smile gracing his lips. Her heart hammered in her chest.
"Lord Thornton, what are you doing here?" Catherine gasped.
He frowned for a moment as he stood over her. His sandy blond brows arched towards his hairline. "Darling, I told you to call me Edward."
She sputtered an apology. After the way she had behaved the day before, she did not think she should be so familiar with him. He waved away her apology. "Think nothing of it. I know we are still getting to know one another; mistakes are bound to be made."
He smiled and she relaxed back into her seat. He leaned in to kiss her forehead. Edward went over to the banquet and perused what was offered while Mr. Hobbs attended him with much more animation than he had with Catherine.
Edward sat down at the chair beside Catherine as Mr. Fox laid a plate overladen with three poached eggs, two pieces of toast, and a bit of ham.
"Thank you, my good man," Edward said to Mr. Fox.
The redhead gave his master a smile, revealing his crooked front teeth. "My pleasure, my lord."
Catherine watched Mr. Fox retreat to his spot beside the banquet table. When he caught her staring, his smile faded. I know I should not assume they hate me, but I cannot escape the feeling that I am an unwelcome addition to the household.
Catherine stared glumly at her plate. Edward squeezed her hand beneath the table. "Is everything right with you?" he inquired.
She gave him a smile and put the servants' dislike aside. She was more intent upon smoothing things over with her husband. She took a deep breath and then said, "I must apologize for my inappropriate behavior yesterday afternoon. I said things that I deeply regret. I do trust you, and I should not have made any insinuation about you and Miss Ashton. I plan to write to her and apologize this afternoon."
He frowned and tilted his head to regard Catherine. He laughed. "I am not sure I know to what you are referring. I was out visiting my tenant farms all afternoon. I saw neither you nor Miss Ashton. I thought Miss Ashton was visiting in London."
It was Catherine's turn to appear puzzled. Maybe he wants to pretend nothing happened? She stared down at her plate for a moment, considering how to respond, then settled on, "Now that I think on it, I realize that may have been a dream."
He patted her hand sympathetically. "That happens to me from time to time. I will wake certain something wretched has happened. Each time, upon further consideration, I come to the conclusion that it is not possible and I put it aside." He nodded his head in concluding his point.
Catherine stared at her husband for a moment. He seemed completely sincere, and just as she was certain she had said those awful things to Miss Ashton, she knew further discussion would be disregarded. It was a secret relief to learn her husband was willing to forgive and forget. She too was ready to move on from the topic and decided to let the subject lie. Whatever Edward's feelings for Miss Ashton might be, he had married Catherine, and that was all that mattered.
Edward noticed she had only picked up one piece of toast and insisted she eat more. Mr. Hobbs grudgingly brought her a platter of eggs and bacon. She found her appetite returned and she cleared her plate. When breakfast was finished, Edward escorted Catherine out of the morning room. They linked arms and Catherine inquired into his plans for the day. He told her about his plans for a new crop at one of the tenant farms and some new farm equipment he had invested in.
As they reached the doors to the study, he stopped and turned to face her. "Darling, I almost forgot. I have the most terrible news!" Her pulse jumped; had he changed his mind and he wanted to confront her about the previous day? "Our neighbors, the Smiths, have lost their daughter to pneumonia!"
She released the breath she had been holding, only to realize he was referring to the family of Evelyn Smith. She gasped and covered her mouth. It has to be a coincidence. I never met Evelyn Smith; she was dead long before I ever arrived here. Miss Smith's existence or nonexistence, whatever the case may be, in her life still vexed her, and she wanted to forget the whole thing.
"That's terrible," Catherine squeaked.
Edward nodded solemnly. "Such a shame, for a girl so young to die. Mrs. Morgan had recently interviewed her for a position at the manor too. What a waste; she would have made an excellent lady's maid for you."
Catherine swallowed a lump lodged in her throat. Smith is a common last name; it is logical that I would have thought Miss Larson's name was Smith. As for the wrong description, perhaps there was an error in my memory. From the corner of her eye, Catherine noticed Mrs. Morgan approaching them. She had emerged from the servants' stairwell as they were talking. Her mouth was pinched shut and the lines around it were white. She grasped her ring of keys at her be
lt. She lied to me. She knew of a Miss Smith. She shook her head. That was preposterous. She should not doubt her husband's staff.
"I'd like for you to take a basket of goods down to the Smiths on our behalf. It would be good for you to get to know the neighbors, especially those that are less fortunate than us," Edward continued, oblivious to Catherine's inner turmoil.
Catherine felt sick. A refusal dangled from the tip of her tongue, but Edward smiled before leaning to kiss her on the forehead, a clear dismissal. She did not have the heart to refuse him. "I would be happy to." She forced a smile, which she knew looked more like a grimace.
Edward did not notice, however, and replied, "You are such a dutiful wife, Catherine."
"I'll have the carriage pulled around for you, my lady," said Mrs. Morgan.
"No!" Catherine shouted. The two of them stared at her with expressions ranging from shock on Edward's face to disapproval from Mrs. Morgan.
Catherine did not see either of them. She was recalling a carriage ride; the details surrounding it were murky, but her empathic rejection stemmed from this event. She had been with someone, but she was not certain who, just as she was not sure where they were headed. Thinking about it, it replayed in her mind as if she were living it all over again.
The coach lurched, and Catherine grasped the edge of her seat, white knuckled. As the lurching motion subsided, it became readily apparent they had stopped. The horses screeched, and the thud of their hooves as they pawed the ground replaced the creak of the carriage wheels.
An animal howl echoed outside that sent gooseflesh rising along Catherine's arms. She squeaked in alarm before clamping a hand over her mouth to stop the offending noise. Another howl accompanied the first. Catherine's entire body trembled right down to her toes. A final howl, closer than the first two, ripped through the night air, this time accompanied by a scream of terror. Catherine's heart beat in her chest, and she pressed her knuckles to her mouth to suppress her startled cry.
Heart of Thorns Page 7