Chapter 31
“What do you mean you want to take Henry to Shawcross Hall? No, Thomas, I could not allow that,” Catherine said and felt her emotions had been wrung out enough for one day. “What good could it possibly achieve? You said yourself that your father has disowned you and that you are at peace with it. Why must you now take our son and present him to that man?”
“I do not want to be taken back into my father’s house, Catherine. I know that you and I will be together now forever, and that is all that I could ever want. Just you, me, and Henry.” He smiled and walked over to the drawing room window where she looked out into the dusk.
“Then what? And why? Thomas, forgive me, but I do not understand.”
“I want to show my father exactly what he is losing. I want this feud is to be ended, to be done with. I do not want whichever relative finally takes on the Duchy of Shawcross to inherit this feud and continue it by default. It is time it was over, time it was dead and buried.”
“But that is too much responsibility to put on a young boy.” Catherine turned from the window and looked into his pale, beautiful blue eyes. “You cannot ask it of him.”
“I do not mean to have Henry in the room when I speak to my father; I mean only to introduce him briefly, to let my father lay his eyes upon the boy, that is all.”
“So, Henry will know nothing of it? Henry will not realize that he has such a responsibility?” Catherine felt dubious.
If she was honest, she was not entirely sure she cared what became of the Duchy of Shawcross in future generations. But she still loved her son dearly and wondered if he might suffer one day on account of her indifference.
“He will not have any responsibility on his shoulders at all, Catherine. I know I am newly a father, but I would never dream of doing anything that would hurt my son. On the contrary, I would already lay down my life for him. I can still hardly describe to you my feelings when I looked upon his face and knew him to be mine.” Catherine could see that Thomas’ eyes were shining with emotion, tears that he blinked back and did not shed.
“I know, Thomas. I know.” She turned and walked into his open arms, leaning her head wearily against his chest. “This has been quite a day for us, has it not? I am so tired.”
“I know, my love. But after all my prevarication, I must have it all done now. When I lay my head down to sleep tonight, I must know that it is all finished, that there is nothing left to be done, no loose ends.”
“As tired as I am, I am relieved to see my Thomas back before me again,” she said and felt her love for him stirring in her chest.
“And I am glad to be myself again, for I have been too long without you. I will never be without you again, my love, I must have you know that.”
“I do know it, and I have never been more certain of anything.”
“Then you will let me take Henry with me now, finish this thing once and for all?” he said and raised his eyebrows.
“Not without me,” she said in a firm tone. “And today is not the day for Henry to discover his origins. There has been too much else of high emotion, and I would like to tell him when I can give the matter my fullest attention.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“So, Henry is not to discover on purpose or by accident anything he should not discover today. I will stay with Henry, and he is to overhear nothing, do you understand?”
“Yes, I will make sure of it.”
“And you will only call upon Henry for long enough that your father may look upon him and know him to be his grandson. But you must make your father very well aware that he is to say nothing, for if he hurts my child, I will make him sorry for it. You must tell him that; you must tell him those exact words, Thomas. These are my stipulations, and I am unbending.”
“I would expect nothing less from you, my beautiful, courageous Catherine.” He kissed her forehead and lightly ran his hand through her soft brown hair. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you too; otherwise, I would not allow any of this.”
“You must trust me this one last time, please.”
“Yes,” she said and touched his face. “I will collect Henry now and tell him that we are to have the honour of a quick look around the fine Shawcross estate. I will introduce him to you properly, as Lord Thomas Carlton, and tell him that he is to meet your father the Duke briefly. Henry is young and excitable and will accept all of it at face value.”
“Thank you.”
By the time they were in the carriage and on their way to Shawcross Hall, Henry had already moved seats so that he could be next to his new acquaintance, and he chattered to him endlessly. Catherine watched with an aching heart as Henry regaled Thomas with tales of all the trees he had climbed, asking him exactly how many trees there were on his own estate. Were there as many as there were at Barford Hall? Were there any so tall that a boy might climb and climb never reaching the top?
Thomas answered all of Henry’s questions happily, and Catherine could see the deep need in his eyes to have Henry know him as his father.
She wondered if that need had been so obvious in her own eyes for all of Henry’s life, and she looked forward to the day when Henry would finally address her as his mother.
When they drew up outside Shawcross Hall, Catherine felt a deep fear which she knew she must get on top of. She could not allow Henry to see how unsettled she was for she did not want him to realize that there was something more for him to know.
“So, as we said?” she said quietly in Thomas’ ear.
“As we said.”
As soon as they were inside the building, Thomas summoned a maid and asked her to escort Catherine and Henry to the library.
“You will be quite alright in here for a few minutes,” Thomas said brightly to them both. “And then as soon as it is done, Henry, I will drive you around the estate in the carriage and show you some of the tallest trees by moonlight. What do you say to that?”
“Oh yes please,” Henry said excitedly.
“Well, this should not take long,” he said to Catherine and then turned to leave.
With the maid disappeared to fetch a glass of milk for Henry, Catherine hurried to the library door and peered out to see in which direction Thomas was going. She had a deep sense that she wanted to know exactly where he was. And not only that, but she had a burning desire to know exactly what was being said.
She saw Thomas disappear through a door at the top of the corridor and, when he did not reappear within seconds, she knew that the Duke must surely be in there.
“Is everything alright, My Lady?” the maid said nervously when she returned holding a small tray with a glass of milk on it for Henry and a small sherry on it for Catherine.
“Oh yes, perfectly alright, thank you,” Catherine said with a smile and returned to the library and sat down next to Henry at a large round table.
Catherine took a few sips of her sherry and smiled at the maid.
“My dear, we will be perfectly alright in here. You need not wait with us, really.”
“Very well, My Lady,” the young woman said and curtsied before turning to leave.
“What is Lord Carlton doing?” Henry said in that absent way of a child who is already concentrating fully on his new surroundings.
“He is just having a few words with his father, Henry. And after that, you will get to meet his father for a moment, but not for long. You need only say hello to him, and then we shall have a look at the trees, just as Thomas said. And he is a Duke, so you must call him Your Grace.”
“May I have a look at one of the books?” Henry said as he twisted in his seat and stared at so many. “There are more books here than there are at Ivy Manor.”
“I know, a great many more. Let me see if I can find something that you might like.” Catherine quickly scanned the first few shelves and was very pleased when she alighted upon natural history.
She removed one and opened it, quickly leafing through the pages until she found some neatly sketched dinosaurs.
“Here, how about this one?” She laid it open in front of him on the table, and he peered closely at it, seeming to be immediately absorbed.
“Oh yes,” he said quietly.
“Henry, I am going to leave you here for a moment reading your book. I just need to have a quick word with Thomas, will you be alright?”
“Oh yes,” he said, giving every impression that he had hardly heard her.
“And you must be careful with your milk, Henry. Take care that you do not splash any of it onto the book, alright?”
“Yes, Aunt Catherine,” he said and did not even look up at her.
Catherine, gathering that she would only be gone a matter of minutes, pulled the library door closed behind her and scampered off along the corridor as quietly as she could. When she arrived at the doorway she had seen Thomas disappear through, she realized that the door was very slightly ajar.
She could hear raised voices through it with ease and held her breath, listening intently for any movement which suggested somebody leaving the room. She was ready to turn and run at the slightest indication.
“What are you telling me?” Catherine thought it strange that although she had not spent any real time in the Duke of Shawcross’ company, still she knew his arrogant, acidic tones.
“For goodness sake, I would have thought that it was a simple enough deduction, Father,” Thomas said, and Catherine was amazed by the steel in his voice. She had always known that he had courage and confidence, but it had always come along with a certain amount of amusement; humour. This time there was no humour; this was the voice of a man, a man who was determined to have the truth said. “When Catherine was exiled from Hertfordshire, unbeknownst to the both of us, she was with child. My child. I knew nothing of this all these years because, between you, you and the Earl of Barford saw to it that we could never find a way to communicate. But now that I know my son, now that I have met him, I will not be parted from him again. And I will not be parted from Catherine either, Father, because I love her. I do not care that you think such feelings ridiculous, for you are not me, and I am not you.”
“She still has the child with her?” The Duke sounded incredulous.
“Yes, Catherine has more courage than anybody I know. She refused to let him go into an orphanage and the Topwells, the family with whom she stayed, helped her to be able to keep him.”
“Then they must be pariahs in Derbyshire to allow such a situation under their roof.”
“Is that all that matters to you, Father? And they are not pariahs because even the child himself does not know that Catherine is his mother. And you will not tell it to him either or I will make you sorry for it.”
“And why would I tell it to him?”
“Because you are to meet him in a few moments, Father. Only for long enough to say good evening, and that is it.”
“Then what is the point of it?”
“The point of it is I want you to see what you have lost. Finally, I want you to see where this dreadful, destructive feud has brought you. I want you to realize that you will be a man alone, silently waiting to die so that he might hand over his beloved duchy to a distant relative. I want you to look at my son with your own eyes and know that he is not only descended from you, but he is descended from the Earl of Barford. I want you to realize that if you continue this feud … if you pass it on to whomever the Duchy finally resides with, then you will not just be hurting Ambrose blood, you will be hurting Carlton blood. That is all I want. I want you to look upon him and remember his face. I want you to know that you would be hurting your own grandson if you continue in this futility.”
“This all seems to be rather unreal somehow. I can hardly imagine that any of this is true, and yet I can see from your look that it is.” Catherine listened with interest as she heard the fire and anger seem to evaporate from the Duke’s voice. “But you have put this upon me so suddenly, have you not? Without warning, I have a grandson.”
“And without warning, Sir, I had a son.”
“Yes.”
“And the reason it all came without warning was because you and Oscar Ambrose could not reconcile differences that were not even your own. Had you grown out of such childishness when you were much younger men, Catherine and I would not have had to suffer as we have suffered these last eight years. Henry would not have thought himself to be an orphan all his young life. And Pierce would not have had to die, for he might well not have spent so much of his life trying to please you and gain your approval that he betrayed me to do it.”
“What on earth do you mean?” The Duke hardly sounded like himself, and Catherine could feel her throat tightening with emotion.
“Pierce betrayed me to gain your approval, just as I said. But when he saw the devastation it wreaked on my life and Catherine’s, he began to feel guilty. And not only that, but he recognized the futility when he saw that he could never gain your approval. From that moment on, he tried to atone for what he had done, but I was so hurt and so angry that I would not let him. I missed Catherine so much that I felt as if my heart had been ripped from my chest. How could I forgive him for what he had done? And then, when he could stand it no more, when I had turned my back on him one last time, Pierce chased me through the fields and that, Father, is how he came to be killed. So, can you not see the chain of events? The chain of events which link us back through time to your own father and Oscar Ambrose’s father? Imagine if things had been stopped then, would Pierce still be alive now?”
“You have never mentioned this before,” the Duke said and sounded oddly broken.
“Because I had never seen the point in telling you before. You have never listened; you have only shouted and ordered and directed. You are never quiet for long enough to hear another person speak.”
“Yes,” he said, and Catherine realized that she was listening to a man finally coming to terms with the consequences of his actions.
“Catherine and I should have been married years ago, and Henry would have been born within wedlock and known us both to be his parents. That is what you have taken from us, you and Oscar Ambrose. I do not confront you with the truth of Pierce’s death simply to hurt you, Father. I am beyond such simple and pointless acts of vengeance now. I just want you to understand the devastation that is caused by the refusal to let go of past injustices, old arguments that should have died a generation ago. And when you come to that conclusion, I want you to be looking at your grandson’s face.”
“He is here?”
“He is here, Father. I will fetch him now, and you may say no more than good evening to him. He is not to find out on this night anything of his origins, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Catherine could hardly believe that she had witnessed roles reversing. It was not the Duke giving out orders now, but Thomas. And yet she knew that Thomas was doing so out of the highest intentions, and she could not imagine loving him more.
When Thomas walked out of the room, Catherine did nothing to hide herself. She just silently walked into his arms and clung tightly to him for a moment. She kissed his cheek, took his hand, and led him back towards the library so that they might collect Henry together.
“I will come in with you, Thomas,” she said firmly. “I will come into the room with you and Henry, and I will not have it any other way.”
“Of course.”
“Henry? Do you like that book?” Thomas said in a much more cheerful tone of voice.
“Yes, very much.” Henry turned in his seat to look at the new acquaintance he had already come to admire.
“Then you may keep it. You may take it home with you.”
“What do you say, Henry?” Catherine said by instinct, always keen that Henry should have good manners.
“Thank you very much, Lord Carlton,” Henry said neatly.
“Now then, might I very quickly introduce you to my father before we set off to have a look at the trees?” Thomas reached out for Henry’s hand.
“Yes, of course.” Henry closed his book and tucked it under his arm before taking Thomas’ hand.
Catherine walked along behind them as they made their way back along the corridor. Side-by-side, it was clear that Henry was simply a smaller version of his father. He had his father’s languid way of walking, and there was not a shade to choose between their red-brown hair.
Thomas pushed open the door and walked Henry in. Catherine walked in behind them, and the Duke immediately looked at her. She held her breath for a moment, fully expecting him to regain his old animosity and let fly at her, but he did not. He simply nodded his head and looked down at his grandson.
“Father, this is Henry Topwell. He has come to meet you.”
“Hello, Henry.”
“Hello, Your Grace,” Henry said, bursting with boyish confidence despite the formality of his address.
“Goodness me, I do not think you need to address me quite so formally.” The Duke crouched down so that he was on a level with Henry, and Catherine was amazed to see that his eyes were shining with tears.
“Aunt Catherine told me that that was how I must address you, Your Grace. You are the Duke, you know.” Henry grinned broadly and showed no sign that he was at all uncomfortable in the old Duke’s presence.
And, for his part, the Duke of Shawcross threw his head back and laughed.
“Quite so, my dear Henry.”