Chapter 22
“I had forgotten how beautiful the grounds are here, Catherine,” Celia said a little whimsically as the two of them sat on the lower terrace in a companionship that would have been entirely peaceful had Henry not been halfway up a tree and calling down to them to look at him.
“Yes, but I am bound to say it seems a good deal more peaceful now that my father is not here,” Catherine said and looked up just in time to see Henry about to move up another branch. “Henry, no,” she said firmly.
“But Aunt Catherine,” he said in loud complaint.
“Henry, that is as high as I want you to go today. Do not forget; this is higher than you have ever been before. Just take a moment to enjoy it and recognize your achievement; everything comes little by little.”
“I wish it would not,” Henry complained but dutifully stayed where he was. “Everything happens so slowly.”
“You will not say that when you get my age, Henry,” Celia said, and Henry chuckled, seeming for all the world to have understood the joke.
“He has such cheek,” Catherine said and tried not to laugh at her son’s antics.
“A little like his father if I remember truly everything you told me about Thomas Carlton.” Celia smiled, and Catherine loved her all the more.
She had never shied away from talking about Thomas, and never in anything other than favourable terms. Celia had never done or said anything with the intention of making Catherine feel ashamed for the child she had given birth to out of wedlock. She had blamed neither Catherine nor Thomas for the matters that were out of their control, and she had never regarded Henry as anything other than a human being with the rights of every other human being in the world.
They only had this story by necessity, not as an attempt to shamefacedly hide Henry away, and Catherine would always love them for it.
“So very like his father. Perhaps he is more like his father than I had ever really considered. I mean, I could always see Thomas in Henry’s face, from the moment he was born and you placed him in my arms, Aunt Celia. I could see that little tuft of red hair and those beautiful blue eyes. But I had not realized quite how anybody else would be able to see the resemblance, I must admit.”
“But Philip took it all very well, did he not?” Celia raised her eyebrows.
“He was startled; that much is true. And who would not be? And he told me that it was not just that he could see Thomas Carlton in Henry, but he could see a little of my own looks also.”
“Yes, there is much in Henry’s face which reminds me of you.” Celia held her hand as they sat on the bench looking up into the tree where Henry was now fully absorbed in picking off tiny bits of bark.
“It was a shock to Philip to see Henry standing there, but he is not shocked by Henry if that makes any sense,” Catherine went on.
“It makes perfect sense. He is not scandalized by Henry’s existence.”
“He is not at all scandalized. The moment we were alone, I spoke to him about it immediately. I made it very clear that I am not ashamed, nor am I apologetic, and Philip said that I had no need to be. He said that if father had not been such an evil man, Thomas and I would have been married and that we were parted through no fault of our own. Really, I do not know if I deserve such a fine brother as Philip, for I could tell that he meant every word of it.”
“He is a very fine young man indeed, and you most certainly do deserve to have a fine brother. And I have no doubt he thinks of you as a very fine sister. Look how he would not let you go and insisted that Charles, Henry, and I come to Barford instead. I can tell by the way he talks that he has missed you as much as you have missed him these last years, and I wish I had known you both as children. I wish I had been able to be an aunt to you when you needed me most,” Celia said with a whimsical look.
“But Celia, you were an aunt to me when I needed you most. Not just an aunt, a mother.”
“You must stop, or I shall be in tears.” Celia laughed, and it was clear that she was very grateful for such a wonderful compliment, especially knowing that it was utterly heartfelt.
“Yes, I do not want to have you pink and tear-stained for the afternoon of bridge, Aunt Celia.” Catherine turned a little on the bench to look at her. “You do want to go, do you not? I do not want you to think that you must. But I do think that you would like Lady Morton ever so much; she was always very kind to me when I was a young woman, very open-minded and open-hearted. She reminds me a little of you, and I cannot help thinking that the two of you would get along famously.”
“I am very much looking forward to an afternoon out, and even more excited at the prospect of meeting this Lady Morton you keep telling me about. Have you seen her since you have returned?”
“No, this is to be our first meeting. And if I know Lady Morton as well as I think I do, she will be in tears and flapping this way and that like a mother hen.”
“Then I really am looking forward to it. I do so like to meet a woman like myself. It is very much easier, is it not? Less complicated somehow.” Celia chuckled. “And I cannot help hoping that I get to set eyes on this Thomas of yours. After all, did you not once tell me that he is also great friends with Lady Morton?”
“Yes, they always were great friends.” Catherine laughed when a little memory came back to her. “I remember once Thomas told me that Lady Morton had provided him with a little subterfuge one afternoon so that he might have a few moments’ conversation with me in private without his brother knowing it. She is all kindness and a little mischief, and I like her very much.”
“I like her already. And is Philip to come with us?”
“Ah, I had forgotten to tell you,” Catherine said and lightly slapped her forehead with an open palm. “Neither Philip nor Uncle Charles are coming with us. They have decided to go to the far end of the estate where the little lake is and have an afternoon of fishing.”
“I might have known it,” Celia said with amusing annoyance. “Your uncle will do anything to get out of a social engagement.”
“But he does like fishing, Aunt Celia. And they are both keen to have Henry with them, and he is already very excited.”
“Your uncle is a lovely man, my dear, but he is not above using a child to get his own way.” Celia smiled in a manner which gave away her deep love for her husband. “Still, we ladies shall manage, shall we not? In fact, perhaps we will have a little freer gossip without the men around.”
“That is precisely what I thought, Aunt Celia.”
Later that day when they arrived at the home of Lady Morton, that fine woman did not disappoint. Her eyes were already brimming with tears. She took both of Catherine’s hands in her own and just looked at her silently for some moments as the first of her tears rolled down her cheeks.
“My adorable girl, you look as young and as beautiful as ever. Dear me, but I have missed your company.” Lady Morton, not at all bothered by the fact that there were several guests behind Catherine and Celia waiting to be admitted into the drawing room, finally flung her arms around Catherine and held her tightly.
For her part, Catherine had not expected to be quite so touched by their reunion as she appeared to be and soon found that she was blinking hard in an attempt to keep her own tears at bay. Lady Morton really was so very nice and one of only a few friends that she had been allowed to keep as a young woman.
“And I have missed your company too, Lady Morton. But my father is gone now, and I may visit Hertfordshire whenever I choose. I am a free woman again, and we shall spend as much time together as we are able,” Catherine whispered into Lady Morton’s ear.
“Forgive me, but I have never been so relieved to hear of another’s passing as I was to hear of your father’s. I knew you would come back when he was gone.”
“Lady Morton, I ought to let you greet the rest of your guests or they will be queueing out onto the street.” Catherine laughed. “And when you have time of it, come and find me so that I might properly introduce you to my Aunt Celia.”
“I should like that very much. Do go on into the drawing room and find yourself a seat and some refreshments. Do not get embroiled in a bridge game just yet, for I shall come to find you sooner rather than later.” Lady Morton, fortified by giving a few polite instructions, quickly pulled herself together. “Oh yes, and Thomas is already in there. I thought you might like to know.” She smiled sweetly.
“Thank you, Lady Morton.” Catherine squeezed her hand and then took her aunt’s arm and led her into the drawing room that was so wonderfully familiar.
“What a lovely drawing room,” Celia said in hushed tones as they made their way through to an unoccupied couch.
“Yes, I have always liked it here. This house has a wonderful atmosphere.”
“I do like Lady Morton already,” Celia said with a smile. “Oh look, here comes a maid.”
“Would you like some tea, Lady Catherine?” the woman said and turned to smile at Celia also. “And Mrs Topwell?”
“Yes please, Daisy,” Catherine said warmly. “And how nice it is to see you again,” she went on, grateful that the maid had included her aunt.
“Thank you, My Lady. We were all very pleased to know that you were home.” She gave a little curtsy before she disappeared to arrange their tea.
“Goodness me, Lady Morton is attentive. Imagine her maid already knowing my name!” Celia looked mightily impressed. “And I quite forget that you are Lady Catherine.” She chuckled.
“You also forget that you are Lady Celia,” Catherine reminded her of the title she had never used since leaving Barford Hall. “Although I do not think it is important to either one of us, is it?”
“No, I do not think so. And you are right; it has been many years since I thought of myself as Lady Celia. I think I prefer Mrs Topwell.”
“I think Mrs Topwell suits you very well indeed.”
“Good afternoon, Catherine. Am I interrupting?” Catherine looked up to see Thomas, handsome in brown breaches and an olive-green tailcoat, smiling broadly.
In her haste to have her aunt seated and comfortable, she had almost forgotten that Lady Morton said that Thomas was already in the drawing room and had not looked for him at all.
“Not at all.” Catherine smiled although there was a part of her that wished he were not there at all that day. “Please allow me to introduce you to my aunt, Mrs Celia Topwell.”
“It is very nice to make your acquaintance at last, Mrs Topwell,” Thomas said and bowed. “Catherine has already told me much about you and her time in Derbyshire.”
“It is very nice to meet you, Lord Carlton.” She smiled at him.
“May I join you?” he said and looked from Catherine to Celia and back again.
“Of course you may, young man,” Celia said, and Catherine could see just how delighted her aunt was.
No doubt she wanted to question him thoroughly, and a little like Philip, nursed a secret hope that the two fated lovers would one day be married and happy. “Tell me, do you play bridge?”
“I struggle my way through.” He laughed. “I am better as an opponent because I am easily beaten. As a partner, I believe I am a little infuriating.”
“It is true; his attention wanders, Mrs Topwell.” Lady Morton suddenly appeared and settled herself down on the couch next to Celia. “But if you like to play, perhaps you and I could be partnered? I am sure that we shall manage to gossip and win every hand. I can tell by instinct that you are a good player, my dear.”
“That sounds perfect,” Celia said brightly.
At that moment, Daisy returned with a tea tray set for two and laid it down on a low table between the couch and the armchair.
“I shall fetch another tray, My Lady,” Daisy said brightly.
“No matter, my dear,” Lady Morton replied and looked as if she had just thought of something. “Perhaps we could leave this tea tray here for Lady Catherine and Lord Thomas. Mrs Topwell and I are about to play cards, so perhaps you might bring us a little tray to one of the tables?”
“Certainly, My Lady.” Daisy smiled, curtsied, and disappeared once more.
“We can drink tea, gossip, and play bridge, my dear Mrs Topwell. What do you say?”
Catherine studied the two women and saw a little look of conspiracy between them. They were already in perfect harmony, and Catherine did not know whether to laugh or be frustrated by it.
“Lead the way, Lady Morton,” Celia said and sounded fully content as she rose to her feet.
Thomas, who had risen to his feet whilst the ladies left, sat down again and grinned at Catherine.
“I must say, they are like two peas in a pod.” He laughed.
“Indeed they are.” Catherine shook her head a little. “I knew they would get along instantly.”
“I am only sorry that I did not have a few more moments with your aunt before Lady Morton took her away.”
“Yes, she is very good company. I am sure that you would get along with her very well.”
“Still, perhaps she might return to us. Perhaps our paths might cross again if I am lucky.” He smiled, and Catherine knew that he was hoping to cross paths with her more than her aunt.
It was a wonderful and terrible feeling at once, for she knew that nothing could change. He was set to be married, and his father’s feelings towards anyone from the Barford estate had undoubtedly remained as they were year upon year.
Catherine was sure that Thomas had deep feelings for her still, for he had made every attempt to be in her company from the moment she had returned from Derbyshire. And it was so hard to look into his beautiful pale blue eyes and deny him those few moments of happiness wherever he could get them, especially since his feelings, she knew from experience, were always so clear and pure.
But that would only make it harder in the end, not only for Catherine, but for Thomas also. It seemed that they were no better placed now than they had been all those years ago to be together. Whilst her own father had gone, the Duke of Shawcross was hale and hearty and showed no signs of departing this mortal coil.
It was not that she wished another human being dead, of course, just that she was sure that that would be the only circumstance under which she and Thomas could ever be together again. And so it was, in the end, truly impossible.
“Thomas, I must speak to you,” Catherine said suddenly and felt her mouth go dry.
She really did not want to say it; she did not want to put him off his perpetual seeking out of her and that little hope in his eyes, the same hope she felt in her own heart. But one of them had to do it, and she could tell, she just knew, it would have to be her.