Chapter 7
Catherine bloomed at Oakhaven. Allowed to take the matter of her recovery into her own hands, she became a model patient. She obeyed every instruction sent from Mrs. Hatch, and her health quickly began to reap the benefits. Her own naturally robust constitution factored a great deal into her progress, and Catherine was clever enough to heed the rhythm of her body. Making certain she did not overtax her resources, she grew stronger and was soon exploring her new world from top to bottom, inside and out.
As neither Rian nor Liam had left any instructions regarding her position at Oakhaven, Catherine quickly made friends with everyone. Whether in the main house or the grounds, she treated all as equals and addressed each person who crossed her path with polite respect. In the beginning Cook had insisted she take her meals in the formal dining room where the family ate, but after two days Catherine begged to be permitted to eat with the rest of the staff in the friendly, informal atmosphere of the kitchen. Permission was granted, but only after she gave her solemn word she would resume taking her meals with the family once they returned.
Left to her own devices, she explored the house. Out of respect for Rian and his brother she did not venture into any of the family rooms, but considered the rest of the house fair game. In no time at all, from attic to basement, she had familiarized herself with the layout of each floor.
There were a number of rooms that were not used, and she found the furnishings draped with heavy, protective coverings. It made sense when she was told that for a long time Liam had been the sole occupant of Oakhaven. While she stood on the threshold of one such chamber, an echo of familiarity swept over Catherine, as if she had known shrouded rooms like this before, only she could not remember when or where. The closed rooms at Oakhaven did not carry the shame of neglect, however. It was as if they knew the lack of use was a temporary situation, and a quick turn with a broom and a polishing cloth was all that would be required to make them hospitable again. Whatever memory skittered through her mind told her that what she had witnessed in the past was a more permanent abandonment.
Catherine had been delighted by the library, and the number of books and periodicals filling the shelves amazed her. Some of the titles she recognized as duplicates from the townhouse, and she shook her head at the extravagance of the same book being in two different libraries. It did not, however, curb her enthusiasm. With slippers kicked off and legs curled beneath her, she could often be found in an overstuffed chair enjoying one of the fine works that had been left unattended for too long. Some of what she read stirred the echo of a memory, allowing her to recite passages she inexplicably knew by heart. Tilly watched in amazement at the animation in Catherine’s face as she described characters and story lines from memory. They had both laughed, convinced this was a positive start to a full recovery.
Winter descended on them in all its chilling, regal glory, but it did little to diminish the outdoor grandeur of the estate, which was just as beautiful and awe inspiring as the interior of the great house. With her feet now healed she was able to wear boots, so when the weather cooperated Catherine was able to persuade Tilly to let her explore the grounds. Walking would help rebuild her strength, and it did not matter that the trees were bare or the flower beds empty beneath a blanket of fallen snow.
The day she discovered the stables brought forth an infectious joy others found hard to resist. Tilly, who loudly admitted to being deathly afraid of horses to anyone within earshot, reluctantly resigned herself to accompanying Catherine. But only with the clear understanding that she would not be made to actually go anywhere near one of the terrifying beasts. The younger girl was astute enough to know that if she refused to accompany her patient, then Catherine would simply go on her own.
Catherine was disappointed, however, to learn that orders had already been given to the head groomsman, and riding was out of the question. Rian must have suspected that she would venture out of the house, and knew it was only a matter of time before she found her way to the stables. Irritated by what she considered his overprotectiveness, she began to wonder why Rian would assume she’d even want to ride. What if she was like Tilly, and scared to death of horses? Perhaps Rian was simply erring on the side of caution, but no matter his reason, the stern look on the stablemaster’s face told her he would not be persuaded to break the orders he had received.
“And don’t you go trying to get one of my lads to saddle up for you,” he told her. “A pretty face like yours could get them to turn cartwheels, but if I’m not mistaken, you’d feel bad knowing I’d have no choice but to let them go for their disobedience.”
Catherine was horrified. She never wanted to be the reason anyone lost their livelihood or position. And it wasn’t as if Rian had said she could never go riding; she could ride with a companion he deemed suitable. Until then she had to be content to meet the stable’s residents with her feet firmly on the ground.
“Do you remember if you ever had a horse of your own, Miss?” Tilly asked one afternoon as she nervously watched Catherine lead a big hunter out of his stall and into the yard for one of the grooms.
“I don’t know, Tilly, but I think I must have,” Catherine said, stroking the horse’s muzzle. She moved to the animal’s side, laying her head against the glossy coat and inhaling the unique equine scent. A fierce, searing joy came over her, infusing her heart and mind with a sense of completeness as she passed her hand gently down the horse’s neck. As if recognizing a kindred spirit, the horse, perfectly at ease with her touch, chuffed in approval.
“’Course she’s ’ad ’orses!” grumbled a man irritably. “Can’t touch an ’orse like she does lessen you growed up with ’em.” He pointed a gnarled finger in Catherine’s direction. “Mark my words, Missus; I knows ’orse people and you’re ’orsey right enough!”
“I’m ’orsey!” Catherine declared, giving Tilly a beaming smile. “Who would have known!”
As her body healed, so did her emotional well-being. Snippets of memories returned, but the process was slow and Catherine did not know if what she was remembering was an event from her childhood or something more recent. Of course she knew anything that involved Rian and the members of the household was recent, and she could now recall quite clearly standing on the docks that fateful morning when Rian had rescued her. Though thoroughly ashamed of the fact, she could also admit that it had been her intention to jump into the river. But the identity of the one who had driven her to such desperation still eluded her.
With steadfast certainty she knew Rian was not responsible for the assault on her, and she wanted very much to express her gratitude to him. Without his intervention she would have easily succumbed to a watery grave, and she secretly hoped the wedding party would return soon. But there were other reasons she wanted Rian back. An image suddenly filled her mind. A picture of Rian as she saw him in her dreams, reaching for her, wanting her. These were not the same dreams she had had of him before. These dreams had evolved, turning into fantasies that were erotic, sexually charged, and very vivid. And she welcomed them as would any young, healthy woman, even though they left her breathless, with her blood pounding, and a sweet, hot ache flowing through her.
“It’s not possible. He doesn’t think of me in that way!” she protested weakly to her dream self.
In the grey area of slumber, when she was dancing on the edge of her dreams and not yet fully awake, Catherine was forced to acknowledge a truth. Standing before the final barrier that separated a young girl’s innocence from a woman’s knowledge, she was left with no doubt that it was Rian Connor she wanted to help her complete the journey. She could not explain why it had to be him, not even to herself, but instinctively she felt he was the only man who could guide her through the labyrinth of her awakening desire.
Such thoughts did not bring her any comfort in the harsh light of day, and Catherine chided herself for having such ridiculous fantasies. Plagued by insecurities, she could not imagine a man like Rian Connor choosing to be with her. He was older, mature, and no doubt used to having his pick of beautiful, confident women. Women who could stand as his equal both in bed and out of it.
Women very much like Isabel Howard.
Seated at the kitchen table, Catherine listened in amazement as everyone gossiped openly about Rian’s affair with Isabel. It was an unspoken rule that whatever was discussed amongst the staff, particularly if it involved any of the family, never went beyond the house. And it went without saying that absolutely nothing was repeated to strangers.
“It would be the ruin of a good man if she got her claws in him!” Tilly declared as she poured another mug of ale from the large brown jug on the table.
“Is that likely?” someone seated on the opposite side of the table asked.
“No.” Tilly shook her head sagely. “I think Master Rian has his wits about him with that one.”
“They say she has the morals of an alley cat.”
“Is it true she’s bedded half the royal family?”
“Aye, and not just the men either!”
This last was followed by a burst of raucous laughter.
“Is she as beautiful as they say?” one of the stable boys asked, his face beet red. “Have you ever seen her, Tilly?”
“Oh, aye, she’s beautiful right enough. I caught a glimpse of her when she came to visit—” Tilly stopped abruptly, her face matching the inquisitive stable boy’s as she swiveled her head to stare at Catherine seated at the far end of the table. “Oh, Miss Catherine, I’m so very sorry,” she apologized.
“It’s all right, Tilly. No harm done,” Catherine said, smiling at them all as she stood. “For all we know I may have bedded members of the royal family as well!”
A howl of protests denying such behavior followed Catherine through the door, and it comforted her to know the staff believed her incapable of such depravity. Still, she had to wonder about Rian’s choice of a lover. It seemed that Isabel found no favor with any member of staff in either household; however, she must possess some quality that intrigued him. Then again, what did Catherine know about men, and the attraction of one woman over another? Nothing. At least nothing she could remember.
Frowning as she pondered the question of men and choices, Catherine made her way to her room. Was physical beauty all that was needed to inflame a man’s desire? A pleasing face could hide many a fault, but what if a woman was plain? If the symmetry of her face was not pleasing, could she hope to compensate with a shapely figure? And what if that figure was flawed in some way? Catherine now carried scars. Dr. McGregor had told her she would, and she had witnessed the sudden flare of pity in the eyes of both the housekeeper and her maid as they helped her bathe and dress. Was her body now so repulsive no man would ever want to touch her? No man would ever want to marry her? Would she never know the joy of bearing children?
Having reached her room, Catherine closed the door and turned the key in the lock. She leaned against it and shut her eyes for a moment or two, gathering her courage. Catching her lower lip in her teeth, she pushed away from the door and walked toward the large freestanding mirror. Earlier that morning with Tilly’s help, she had tilted the reflective surface to an angle that would serve her purpose.
“You have put this off long enough,” she whispered fiercely to her image. “It is time to see the truth with your own eyes.” And slowly, with trembling fingers, she undid the buttons on her bodice, sliding the dress off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her petticoat and shift quickly followed, and Catherine stood before the looking glass completely naked. Afraid that she would lose her nerve, she turned around and pulled the thick braid over one shoulder so it hung in front of her. Twisting her head, she stared at herself in the mirror.
Her fingers trembled as she traced the livid scar as far as she was able to reach, her vision blurring from the silent tears coursing down her cheeks. Catherine could not fathom what transgression she was guilty of to have received such punishment. Her mind still would not allow her to reach through the fog and pull this one moment out of her past and examine it. Not knowing what else might have been taken from her, she told herself to be content with her dreams. It was possible that her dream world was as close as she would ever get to knowing Rian.
One final look at her scarred body and she shuddered. How could she expect any man to choose her over someone as perfectly beautiful as Isabel Howard?