Chapter 24
Catherine had felt a little steadier in the days since she had told Thomas precisely of her fears and feelings on the subject of their continued friendship. She did not want to cut him out of her life altogether, but she feared that if she did not, the pain would never cease.
At first, she had wanted to return immediately to Derbyshire, that would solve everything for her. That great distance would be put between her and Thomas again, and she could pretend that she had no choice in the matter just as things had been for so long.
But Celia had managed to talk her out of it, calmly telling her that she must concentrate on her returning relationship with her brother Philip for a while, that she must find some way to have the strength and the stomach to visit him without fearing the sight of Thomas, or even news of him.
Catherine knew that she must do just as Celia said, or she would never forgive herself. She had already lost Thomas a long time ago. This was nothing new, nothing that could ever be solved.
But she had been given a second chance to have a wonderful brother, and she knew she must not waste it. Philip was so precious to her and was now one of only four other people who knew that Henry was her child. And not only did he know it, but he was pleased to have a secret nephew, even if that nephew did not know it himself.
Catherine had already seen him playing with the child, taking him fishing and standing at the foot of the taller trees, urging him to climb higher and higher despite Catherine’s protestations.
She had seen the light of love in her brother’s eyes, and not only that, but absolute unconditional acceptance of Henry’s place in the world. And Henry had taken to Philip as a duck takes to water; how could she possibly separate them for great lengths of time in the future?
And so she concentrated on that for a few days, enjoying being at Barford Hall for once in her life, and trying not to think too hard about the future. It had given her a certain calm and so, some days later when her brother handed her a sealed letter in handwriting she recognized as if it were her own, she was surprised to find how instantly affected she was by it.
“You have a letter, Catherine,” Philip said after breakfast, handing it to her in private. “From Thomas, I think.” He whispered the last and smiled, and Catherine could not help laughing at his curiously hopeless romanticism.
“Thank you,” she said and quickly opened it. “No, Philip, you need not leave. I have no secrets to keep anymore.” She smiled at him before turning her attention to the letter in her hand.
“My darling Catherine,
Ever since our conversation in Lady Morton’s drawing room, I have been unable to think of anything but you. I understand entirely why you said what you said, and I certainly cannot blame you for one moment for saying it.
I needed to understand what I was not seeing, and now I think I do. But I must speak to you, Catherine. I have something that I must say to you, and I would beg that you would hear it. I know you did not want particularly to see me again for a while, but I must ask you to reconsider that on this occasion.
If you are agreeable, I will be waiting at the old place this afternoon at midday. I am in hopes of seeing you there.
All my love,
Thomas.”
When Catherine finished reading it, she folded it and sighed deeply. Philip shuffled a little awkwardly as if he ought not to have been there at all, not even to witness her reading the thing.
“He wants to meet me this afternoon at Stromlyn Lake,” she said, knowing that was exactly what he had meant by the old place.
“Does he say why?” Philip asked cautiously.
“He just says that he has something that he wishes to say to me, that is all.”
“And will you go?”
“I do not think it is wise, Philip.” Catherine shook her head gently. “I could not have been clearer with him the other day, Philip. And I cannot see how continuing to meet will help either one of us. It is just too painful.”
“And yet it seems as if he has something to say,” Philip said and seemed a little overenthusiastic.
“It is very sweet of you to want such wonderful things for me, Philip. But the last eight years have taught me not to expect such romance in my life again. I really must protect myself.”
“But Catherine, why can you not tell him about Henry? Does he not at least have a right to know that he is a father?”
“You are right; he does have a very real right to know that he is a father, Philip. But I cannot do it. I cannot look into his eyes and wonder if he has chosen me out of a sense of duty. If I told him, it would be my way of asking him to abandon everything, would it not? It would even be an expectation, and I do not want my life to be based on such shaky ground.”
“I understand, really I do. But if you leave it and leave it, if he marries that dreadful Lady Eleanor, it matters not when you tell him for there will be nothing he can do about it. You see, you are taking his choice away in this, even though I understand entirely why you would do it. Catherine, I wish I could offer advice so sensible that it could only help, but this is a most unusual set of circumstances, and I can only tell you to go with your heart.” He smiled at her mischievously. “But if it was me, I know I would tell him.”
“If it was you?” Catherine laughed heartily. “If you were a woman of eight and twenty with a child and had no husband, really, Philip.” She laughed all the harder.
“Stop being silly.” Philip reached out and gently pinched her arm.
Catherine squealed dramatically and reached out to pinch him in return, only he ducked out of her way, and she was forced to chase him through the great entrance hall and down the long corridor towards the drawing room.
“So, this is what you were like when you were children!” Aunt Celia said, appearing suddenly in the drawing room doorway.
“Sorry, Aunt Celia,” Philip said and looked suddenly like a giant boy.
“What are the two of you quarreling about?” Celia was clearly highly amused and very touched to see a brother and sister who still got on so well in adulthood.
“I have had a letter from Thomas asking me to meet him. He says he has something to say to me. Philip thinks I should go, and I do not.”
“I think you should go too,” Celia said.
“Five minutes we have been here and already you are on Philip’s side in everything.” Catherine laughed and felt a sudden warm glow.
She felt as if she were a part of a real family again, more than she had ever felt when she and Philip had been there alone with their father.
It gave her such a sense of well-being she decided that she would, after all, meet with Thomas. If she had a family such as hers to go back to, she could be comforted and protected by them if need be. And she knew if she did not go, she would always wonder.
And so it was, just an hour later, that she set off on foot in the direction of Stromlyn Lake.
She had not walked that way since she had returned to Hertfordshire, not wanting to feel the great swell of emotion that would undoubtedly waylay her when she saw the place that had once meant so much to them both.
The day was sunny, although not terribly warm, and she was glad that she had picked up a light woollen shawl on her way out of Barford Hall.
As she walked along the familiar pathway, she felt a little twinge of the old excitement that she used to feel in the days when she had met him there quite secretly. She could not have imagined then striding purposefully out of her father’s house having announced to all where she was going and who she was meeting. How much had changed, and how much of it was for the better, in the Ambrose household, at any rate.
When she reached the high point of land that surrounded the recessed lake, she peered over the edge and down into the glassy water. She could see Thomas already there, sitting on a large dry rock and throwing little stones into the lake.
As soon as she began to make her descent, Thomas saw her and rose to his feet. He stood for a moment where he was, and then suddenly hastened to meet her, taking both her hands in his the moment they were face-to-face.
“I had to see you, Catherine. I have to tell you something that I did not want to put in a letter. Will you listen?” he said with his pale, sky blue eyes fixing hers in a way that made her want to fall into his arms.
She simply nodded.
“Catherine, I love you as much as I ever did. Not a day has gone by when I have not thought of you, and my love for you has not waned one ounce in all the years we were parted. I have never loved anybody else, and I never will love anybody else. I want you and you only, so will you have me? Will you consent to be my wife?” He paused for a moment, and Catherine stood staring at him, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. “It is true that I will have very little to offer you, for I will undoubtedly be disowned. But you know the pain of that situation yourself, and you know how it can be overcome. What do you say? Can we just get back to where we were?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” she said and threw her arms around his neck, feeling his strong hands on her waist lifting her from the ground and spinning her around until she was so disorientated that she had to protest and have him put her back on her feet again.
“I love you, Catherine,” he said and cupped her face in his hands.
“I love you, Thomas. It was always you; it has only ever been you.”
When he leaned in to kiss her, the years rolled back as easily as a rug. It was the most wonderful moment and one that she had never imagined would happen to her again.