Resolve, page 21
“Lord Barclay, welcome to Oakhaven.” Liam greeted him with some curiosity, mainly because Rian’s letter had expressed doubts the young man would actually make the trip.
“Please, call me Edward,” the visitor said after giving the customary bow in greeting. “And you, I trust, are Liam Connor?”
“Indeed I am.”
“Then as you show no surprise, I can only assume you are forewarned of my purpose in visiting you?”
“My brother did mention it, yes.”
“Is he here?” Edward asked, looking about as if he expected the older Connor to materialize out of thin air.
Liam shook his head. “I’m afraid business is keeping him in town.”
“Pity. I very much enjoyed his company.” He paused before asking, “And Cat? Where is she?”
“Who?” Liam looked slightly bewildered.
“Ah, your brother didn’t tell you everything, I see,” Edward said with a grin. “It’s a childhood nickname. One I doubt I will ever outgrow. I meant to say Catherine.”
“I am sorry to have to tell you that Catherine is at present enjoying the hospitality of my wife’s family on the neighboring estate.”
Seeing Edward’s crestfallen look, Liam chuckled and waved a hand. “Lord Barclay—”
“Edward.”
“Forgive me, Edward. Allow me to offer you some refreshment, and a bed. We can ride over to Pelham in the morning, and you may see Catherine then.”
Liam thought it quite charming to see how his lordship’s face brightened at the prospect. It made him look quite boyish. The arrival of their unexpected guest brought Mrs. Hatch to them, and she informed Liam that Lord Barclay’s room was already prepared, and supper was waiting for him in the dining room.
“Does Cat know I am here?” Edward asked Liam as he sat down at the long, polished dining table.
“How could she? You have only just arrived,” Liam answered with a smile. Youthful enthusiasm was hard to dislike.
“I thought perhaps your brother might have told her he had met me.”
“Rian has not yet returned home since visiting with you. He has not seen Catherine.”
The expression on Edward’s face made Liam wonder if his brother knew just what he was doing.
* * * *
Emily glanced up from the piece of embroidery she was working on and looked thoughtfully at Catherine, who sat reading, totally absorbed by the pages of the book she held in her hand. As she watched, Catherine absentmindedly pulled at a lock of hair and began twisting it around her finger. Emily smiled. So that explained why one curl was always out of place. It had been quite a change of pace to have Catherine stay with them. Her presence affected the entire household, and the staff had become quite enchanted by her, especially when Catherine spent as much time in the kitchen as she did in any of Pelham’s grand drawing rooms. Emily was pleased to see that although Catherine shared many similarities with her daughter, there were enough differences to promise their friendship would remain fresh and interesting.
As more of Catherine’s memory returned, it became apparent to Emily that, like her own daughter, Catherine’s education had been varied and wide ranging. She showed a love of art and literature, coupled with a sincere appreciation for music. She possessed a working knowledge of French and Italian that was good enough to allow conversation in either language. There was, however, a severe dislike of mathematics, although, much to Charles Pelham’s delight, Catherine seemed to enjoy the sciences. He confided that his daughter had never shown an interest in this part of her education, but now he found a partner who pored over scientific manuals and was willing to play devil’s advocate in order to present an opposing point of view on most subjects.
Emily would sit quietly listening to them discuss concepts that, like her daughter, she had no grasp of. Not because of a lack of intelligence, but more a lack of interest. The rise and fall of their voices as they argued good naturedly became a pleasant background song to her ears. As far as the Pelhams were concerned, Catherine was welcome to stay as long as she wished.
But Catherine had brought with her a dark side too. Nightmares. Not every night, but enough that her disturbed sleep was marked by the shadows under her eyes. It seemed the door that had been opened by the incident with the pink ball gown was gaping ever wider, allowing dark recollections to come through and manifest themselves in her dreams.
Woken by her personal maid, Emily had run to Catherine’s room the first night, finding the young woman thrashing in her bed. She seemed to be in a place between wake and sleep, muttering incoherently, and soaked with perspiration. At first Emily had been afraid to reach out to her, but then maternal instinct had overcome any reservations. Holding Catherine tightly in her arms, she had stroked her matted hair and whispered soothingly until the young woman sagged against her.
Catherine’s only reference to the incident was a soft thank you at breakfast the next morning. Emily inclined her head slightly, and smiled in acknowledgment, believing it to be an isolated incident that would not be repeated. But when it happened again the two women were forced to speak candidly about the matter. Not wanting to cause Catherine further distress, Emily was fully prepared to let her return to Oakhaven, thinking that the change in surroundings might be the reason for the recurring dream, but Catherine pleaded to remain.
With Emily she was developing a relationship that, although quite different from her affection for Felicity, was already important to her, and she was reluctant to give it up so soon. Both women came to the conclusion that the nightmare was definitely linked to her assault, and Catherine voiced the opinion that perhaps the cocoon Oakhaven had wrapped about her had been keeping it at bay. Knowing she would never be whole until she had confronted this part of her life, Catherine was determined to do so.
“Do you remember any details about the dream?” Emily asked her gently one morning. Felicity had stayed over the previous night, but was still abed. As always, Catherine had initiated the discussion.
“Just vague images, nothing specific,” Catherine told her with a shake of her head. “It’s more a sense of things. Sounds I think I can hear, a feeling of terror, and a smell…”
“A smell?” Emily asked, surprised at this odd detail.
“Yes, something foul and rank, diseased, decaying.”
“Is Rian involved in the dream in any way?” Emily asked quietly. “Not that I’m suggesting he’s diseased or decaying.”
“Rian would never hurt me…not in that way.”
“Darling, I do not doubt you, but if you cannot remember the details of the dream, how can you be so certain?” Emily had no wish to cast doubts on Rian’s character; rather she wanted Catherine to face her conviction, and actually say aloud her reasons for defending him.
“Because whenever I dream of him it is in another place, and his behavior is very…different.”
The high blush of color staining Catherine’s cheeks told Emily all she needed to know about the difference between the dreams. “Do you dream of him like that often?” she asked softly, taking Catherine’s hand in her own.
“Yes, and it’s always after…so I know it isn’t him in the nightmare.”
“You always dream about Rian after the nightmare is over?” Emily thought this a significant admission.
“When I can go back to sleep,” she admitted in a small voice.
Feeling her hand tremble, Emily put her arm around Catherine’s shoulder and held her compassionately. Whatever horror Catherine was still experiencing, Emily was determined to help her through it in any way she could.
“And are these dreams about Rian…romantic in nature?” She lowered her voice and felt Catherine stiffen before she nodded in response. Through the curtain of blond hair Emily could see the flush on her cheeks deepen.
“Although I’m not sure ‘romantic’ is quite the right word,” Catherine admitted with naïve honesty.
“Ah, I understand.” Emily could feel her own cheeks warming.
“You don’t think it means—” Catherine lifted her head. A dark, smoky hue colored her eyes and Emily wondered if they always looked so when she was passionate about something, or if it was only when Rian Connor was the subject.
“No, I do not believe that Rian is a part of your nightmare,” she reassured Catherine, “but I do believe he is part of the answer.”
She brushed a stray lock of hair from Catherine’s forehead. “Tell me, do you love him?”
“I don’t know,” she confessed, surprised by the question. “Sometimes I think I do, but then there’s always…that woman.”
“Ah yes…Isabel.”
The way Emily spoke her name made Catherine turn her head and look at her with a different kind of awareness. “Felicity said you knew her…knew things about her.”
“Only too well.” Emily sighed and looked thoughtful. She patted Catherine’s hand before continuing. “John Howard, Isabel’s late husband, was a good friend to both Charles and me. In fact, his first wife, Amelia, was a great friend of mine. We all felt her loss keenly when she died, none more so than John. He had been a devoted husband, and I always felt it a shame that they never had children. But after her death something changed inside him, and he was never quite the same man again.”
“I know how that can be,” Catherine said softly as the memory of her father’s despair suddenly filled her.
“John took Amelia’s death very hard. He stopped associating with anyone who had known her while she was alive. He refused all invitations sent to him and became something of a recluse.” Emily squeezed Catherine’s hand. “Grief takes hold in many different ways. The next thing we heard, he had become obsessed with a young girl, and before anyone could dissuade him, he had married her and she was now the new Lady Howard. Isabel was very young and very beautiful. It was easy to see why John had become so besotted with her, but within five years he was dead and she was left a very wealthy widow.”
“I’m so sorry,” Catherine said, hearing the sorrow in Emily’s voice.
“Yes, well, perhaps it is better for John, and in all fairness I cannot say that Isabel did not bring him some measure of joy in the time he had with her, but”—her voice hardened—“allow me to illuminate the character of Isabel Howard.”
Half an hour later Emily finished talking and Catherine rang for tea. It had been thirsty work. Handing her a cup of the hot liquid, Catherine spoke. “But what of Isabel’s family?”
“Yes indeed, what of them? Isabel claims to be the daughter of a disgraced and impoverished aristocrat who died when she was an infant. Her mother also has now passed, conveniently succumbing to some illness just before Isabel wed John. Whether or not he met the woman, no one knows. Whatever verification exists to substantiate her birth, her husband was the only one who ever saw it.”
“You don’t believe her, do you?”
Emily sipped her tea and shook her head. “In my experience many young women who wish to improve their social standing claim a great many things. They are all revealed as frauds eventually.”
“And you think this will be the case with Isabel?” Catherine was fascinated both by the intrigue as well as Isabel’s audacity if Emily’s suspicions were true.
“Undoubtedly.” The older woman’s voice was firm. “I think it just a little too convenient to have no living relative to vouch for you.”
“But surely if her husband saw the verification?”
“You have had just a small taste of Isabel’s determination to get her hands on something she desperately wants. How much more forceful and clever do you imagine she would be in securing her future in the first place? Whatever documentation she provided to convince John of her heritage, or what poor woman she paraded around as her mother, I will go to my grave with the certainty that both were false. However, suspicion and proof are two very different matters.”
Catherine looked thoughtful as she nibbled on a tea cake.
“So are you telling me that finding Isabel in Rian’s bed was somehow Isabel’s design?”
“Can you honestly believe it was anything else?” Emily put down her tea cup. “Isabel has never made a secret of her feelings for Rian, feelings I might add that he has never publicly reciprocated. Now I ask you, which of them do you trust?” She held up her hand and her voice softened. “No, you don’t have to answer me, Catherine. You know in your heart what the answer is, but now you have to make a decision.”
Catherine gave a wry smile. “Your daughter gave me much the same advice recently.”
Picking up her cup, Emily smiled over the rim. “Clever girl, I wonder who she learned that from?”
At that moment Felicity joined them. She had been feeling a little peaky that morning and had been lying down in her bedroom.
“Feeling better?” Catherine asked solicitously.
“A little,” her friend replied. “I hope I’m not coming down with something.”
Emily pursed her lips but said nothing, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was still too early to speculate; a few more weeks and then it would be certain. “Catherine, be a dear and ring for more tea, would you?”
Catherine had her hand on the bellpull when the door to the salon was opened by a footman announcing Liam’s arrival. Emily frowned, wondering why the man had thought it necessary to announce her son-in-law. Usually Liam simply found them wherever they might be. If the sudden shriek that filled the air had not made Emily clutch her bosom, then the sight of Catherine launching herself at the young man who followed Liam into the room surely did.
“Edward!” Catherine squealed in delight.
Chapter 28
“What do you think is going to happen?” Felicity asked as she looked over her mother’s shoulder at Catherine and Edward walking down the terrace steps, arm in arm.
Once introductions were made, and the young man’s identity was revealed, conversation had become oddly strained. Felicity and Emily knew nothing about the young man seated across the room from them, and Liam knew barely any more. However, the fiery redhead couldn’t take his eyes from Catherine, and she, in turn, alternated between giddy delight and embarrassment over her lack of decorum. It was Emily who suggested Catherine show Edward the gardens, giving them a chance to speak to each other in private.
“Should they not have a chaperone?” Felicity asked, worriedly.
“Why? He’s a childhood friend, my dear, and I think if Catherine felt unsafe with him, she would have let us know.” Finding no reason to disagree, Felicity repeated her earlier question.
“Who can say?” her mother answered with a shake of her head.
Once Catherine and Edward had disappeared from view, Emily took her daughter’s hand and moved them away from the window. “So tell us what you know about this young lord,” she instructed her son-in-law.
Liam had remained seated, observing with keen interest the reaction Edward’s arrival had produced. Of course, his interest was directed not so much at Lord Barclay, but rather at how Catherine responded to him.
“All I know is that Edward and Catherine have known each other since they were children, growing up on neighboring estates just like we did.” He nodded at his wife. “Well, from Catherine’s obvious delight, we know that to be true,” Felicity said, “but I’m curious how Lord Barclay knew Catherine was here.”
“Rian told him.”
“Rian told him?” Felicity gasped, taken aback.
“Mmm, yes. I gather after his meeting with Lord Barclay he thought it would be improper of him not to tell his lordship exactly where Catherine was, and how to find her.” He gave his wife an apologetic look. “He is a link to Catherine’s past, and quite a strong one from all accounts.”
“And you didn’t think to share this with me?” Felicity huffed.
“I apologize, my darling, but I didn’t want to bother you with something that I wasn’t sure would actually happen. The tone of Rian’s letter seemed to indicate a certain hesitancy on the young man’s part. I think my brother will be most surprised to learn Edward Barclay accepted his offer to visit.”
Somewhat mollified, Felicity asked, “Did Rian happen to say how close this childhood friendship was?”
“Whatever are you thinking?” Emily asked, voicing the concern before her son-in-law could.
“I’m just wondering if an understanding exists between them.” Felicity turned her attention back to Liam. “Well? Did Rian mention anything to that effect?”
“There was never a formal declaration.”
“Nothing formal?” Felicity pounced on the distinction like a cat chasing a bug. “But there is an existing affection between them?”
“I think,” Liam said with a twinkle of amusement, “Catherine has demonstrated that most effectively. Rian believes Lord Barclay still cares for her, but was never in a position to make her an offer until recently.”
“Do you suppose that is what has brought him to our doorstep?” Emily asked with some concern.
“It is, I believe, a safe assumption,” Liam concurred.
Felicity went to stand before the window again. She wanted to be able to judge Catherine’s state of mind the moment she saw her. “I still don’t understand why Rian would tell a potential rival where to find her,” she said.
“Don’t you?” Her mother seemed surprised at her daughter’s lack of insight. It was normally so keen. “He is offering Catherine a choice, and will abide by whatever decision she makes.”
“So, she has forgiven the incident with Isabel?” Liam asked.
Emily picked up her embroidery and held the needle between thumb and forefinger. “Yes, I believe she has, even if she doesn’t quite know it herself yet.”
