Chapter 28
Oakhaven welcomed them back once more, and they allowed the soothing balm of the house and land to work its magic, restoring them as only it could. Of course, not everything would be the same. Not everything could be forgiven or let go. Lives had been changed. Lives had been lost.
In the small cemetery behind the family chapel, a place was made for Lettie to lie in peace. Her charred body had been found in the smoking ruins of the house and Rian had claimed her as next of kin. Catherine, overwhelmed by the gesture, had thanked him with tears in her eyes. He had not done the same with Phillip nor, for some strange reason, had either of them been asked to do so.
A smaller headstone had been placed alongside Lettie’s, and into the marble had been carved only the year and the words Our First Love in memory of the babe lost to Liam and Felicity.
“She would like that,” Felicity told them.
“She?” Liam looked at his wife and gazed in awe at the serene expression in her eyes. “You knew it was a girl?”
Felicity smiled. “Only in my heart, dearest, only in my heart.”
Reaching for his wife’s hand, Liam tried to speak, but the sudden lump in his throat prevented any words from forming. He pinched the bridge of his nose with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, willing the tears not to fall. Saying nothing, Felicity simply slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest, holding onto her husband and comforting him in his moment of grief.
The road back to recovery is never a smooth journey, especially not if traveled alone. Liam, heeding both the advice of his brother and Dr. MacGregor, spent as much time with his wife as she would allow. They took morning rides together and long afternoon walks and, at other times, when the weather permitted, they could be found sitting quietly in the garden where Liam read aloud and Felicity, fingertips blackened from charcoal, sketched her grand designs for the restoration of the gardens in a large notebook.
Both of them welcomed the opportunity to immerse themselves in each other’s interests. Liam made a point of taking Felicity with him when he had to attend to estate business. He found her keen mind and sharp observations to be invaluable. Every tenant they met expressed sorrow for their loss. This, more than anything, touched both of them in a way neither would have expected. The loss of a child was grieved by all.
The path for Rian was a little darker. On the surface, both he and Catherine seemed to be mending well. They also took walks together, went riding and even squabbled good-naturedly as they played cards, each accusing the other of cheating. But since returning to Oakhaven, Catherine had resumed sleeping in his mother’s room. Alone.
She had quietly asked to be given the time to recover in her own way from the horrors of that night. Hiding his hurt, Rian had acquiesced and made no demands. He found himself overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness he had never experienced before. Unable to sleep alone in the bed Catherine had once shared with him, he took to sleeping in the library or the den.
“Patience, Master Rian, patience,” Mrs. Hatch advised, after finding him sitting on the floor in the middle of the night, staring at Catherine’s closed bedroom door. He had said nothing, but looked at the housekeeper with a face that could not hide the loneliness consuming him.
Before leaving the city, Dr. MacGregor had examined Catherine. He assured Rian that she had not suffered any irreparable physical harm, but he could not speak as confidently about her mental state. He shared with Rian his belief that Catherine was holding something back. Before, she had no memory of what had taken place, only the brutal evidence left on her body. But now she knew every sickening detail. Shaking his head and keeping his voice low and his manner mournful, Dr. MacGregor had been blunt. The strain of carrying such a burden would eventually take its toll, and Catherine was walking a razor’s edge. It was anyone’s guess which way she would fall, but fall she would.
Rian knew his wife well enough to sense that something about her, something deep down, was wrong, but he was handicapped by the strength of his own feelings, and he did not want to do anything that would cause her to lose faith in him. Of course he did not expect her to come through this most recent nightmare with Phillip unscathed. He understood the guilt she felt about Lettie’s suicide, and he knew it would be a long time before she felt comfortable enough to share her feelings on either matter. He could accept that, but what he could not accept was the way she had completely cut herself off from him emotionally.
He was at a loss to know how to reach her. How could he make her see that the burden Phillip had placed on her was not hers alone to bear, but his to share also. Stealing from Mrs. Hatch’s remedy book, Dr. MacGregor had advised patience, and Rian had given him a wry smile. They had been down this road before. He promised to give Catherine as much time as she needed. And so they embarked on a perilous journey that threatened, with one misplaced sigh, one misread glance, one misdirected inflection, to pull them apart.
* * * *
They had been back a little over a month before Catherine broached the subject that Rian and Liam both seemed determined to avoid. It had become customary for them all to retire to the library after dinner to play cards. Liam cheated terribly, which made them laugh as he was so bad at disguising his efforts. They had just finished a hand of whist when Catherine asked, “What has become of Isabel?”
The silence that followed was like a whip crack echoing around the room. Since their return, they had spoken openly of John Fletcher, examining his role in both Catherine’s abduction as well as her rescue, but no one had mentioned Isabel’s complicity. Her involvement had simply been ignored. Both men hoped their wives would be content to let the matter lie, but now it seemed that was not going to happen. Liam gave Rian a worried glance that did not go unnoticed by Catherine. He reached for his wife’s hand, but Felicity gently removed it from his grasp. Propping her elbow on the table instead, she cupped her chin in her palm, and stared at her brother-in-law.
“Yes, Rian, what has become of Isabel?” she asked in a tone that was neither accusing nor condemning, only curious.
“What have you heard?” he asked nonchalantly, shuffling the cards and refusing to look up.
He had told his brother that this moment would come; if given a choice, each would have preferred the moment to have been put off a little longer. But the subject was out in the open now, and having been raised by Catherine and then seconded by Felicity, both men knew they were not going to be able to do anything but be direct and, above all, truthful.
“She seems to have disappeared from what Mama has told me,” Felicity said, picking up her cards and sorting her hand. “No one can confirm it, but there is a rumor that she has gone to her estate in Ireland. Her house has been closed up for the rest of the season, and she has dismissed all but a handful of servants, giving a full year’s severance to those she has let go.” Felicity paused, watching as both men diligently sorted their cards. “The odd thing is that she did not mention her plans to a single one of her friends. Mama tells me Charlotte Maitling is quite peeved.”
“A year’s pay seems very generous. A little too generous for Isabel, don’t you think?” Catherine asked Rian.
“Perhaps,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug.
“Did you know she had an estate in Ireland?” Catherine fixed him with a stare.
He sighed and laid his cards on the table. There was no point in trying to play the hand until this discussion was over. “Yes, I knew.”
“Do you know anything about her reasons for leaving so suddenly?” His wife was not going to be dissuaded.
“I would have thought that was obvious,” he said quietly.
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Catherine sounded doubtful.
Rian stared at her. “What is it that you are really trying to ask me, Catherine?”
It was Felicity who answered. “Whether there is any truth to the rumors.”
“What rumors?”
Felicity turned and fixed Liam with a stare of her own, “That Isabel’s hasty departure came as a direct result of a visit she received from my husband.”
Rian gave a start. Liam had visited Isabel? Why had he not known about this? Had he also discovered her secret? Surely not, because Liam would have told him, wouldn’t he?
Not if he thought you didn’t know.
“Cooks and grooms,” Rian muttered under his breath quietly, but still loud enough for Catherine to hear him. She gave him a quizzical look, but he only shook his head.
With a sigh, Liam decided it was time to come clean and confess his part in Isabel’s departure. He gave his brother an apologetic look.
“After Rian left with John Fletcher, I decided to pay Isabel a visit to make sure that she fully understood why she needed to leave. I wanted to be absolutely certain that she understood the consequences if she failed to do as we demanded. It was not going to be possible for her to return to town, hoping a change of scenery, or missing a season was all that would be necessary to safeguard her health.”
“What was wrong with her health?” Catherine asked.
“At that time, nothing as far as I know.”
Rian felt a small sigh of relief escape him. Liam’s answer said he was ignorant regarding Isabel’s pregnancy.
“At that time?” Felicity drummed her fingers lightly on the surface of the card table. “What was going to happen to her health if she did not agree to your decision? What exactly did you say to her, Liam?”
“That her man, John Fletcher, had made a mistake by only eliciting a guarantee of her safety from one brother,” he raised a brow and gave Rian an unfathomable look before continuing, “and that I would never forgive her for being instrumental in the loss of our child.” He stopped speaking as Felicity’s hand covered his.
“And?” she asked softly.
Her husband swallowed. On reflection, Liam wished he had been more guarded in his manner with Isabel, but he could not change what had taken place. He had been emotional and grief stricken, and had spoken with his heart, not his head. “I told her that if she was so foolish as to cross my path again, then her life would be forfeit.”
Catherine gasped, and Rian could not help the sudden surge of pride and admiration that filled him. He and Liam were more alike than people realized. But it was Felicity who shocked them all. Shy and reserved, she normally avoided any display of public affection, but she squeezed her husband’s hand tightly before leaning forward and kissing him full on the mouth. It was the first time since the night of the party that she had shown such physical intimacy, and it took her husband completely by surprise.
“Thank you, my darling,” she whispered after releasing his lips. The look in her eyes told him that Isabel’s name would never be mentioned by her again.
* * * *
Summer was fading. The days were still long and full of bright light, but in the evening hours, as the sun was setting, a coolness that had not been felt previously now made itself known. Both Catherine and Felicity had taken to wearing shawls when they went walking. Catherine’s hair was growing back, more quickly than she had expected, but it would require a little more time before it reached a comfortable length. In the meantime Mrs. Hatch had made a selection of beautiful frilled caps for her to wear, and Catherine had grown quite fond of them. Rian thought they made her look like a beautiful dairy maid, and he couldn’t help being struck by the irony of that particular thought. Isabel had referred to Catherine as a milk maid, but she had meant it in an offensive, derogatory way.
“If only she knew,” he said quietly to himself, watching his wife make her way across the lawn. He sighed as thoughts of Isabel clouded his mind. He had not told anyone that Isabel was carrying his child, and he especially hated keeping it a secret from Catherine, but in her present state of mind, he feared what the knowledge might do to her. The strong length of steel that bound him to his wife, linking his heart to hers, had been pulled so taut by recent events that it was in danger of snapping. To ask Catherine to accept one more devastating piece of information about her nemesis might be too much right now. It could easily make her turn away from him, and that was something he would not be able to bear.
He sighed wearily and came to a decision. As long as Isabel kept to her estates in Ireland, Catherine need never know the truth. Protecting her was Rian’s only thought. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep his wife safe, even if it meant walking a razor’s edge himself. It was a risk he was more than willing to take, even though he knew, deep down, secrets had a way of making themselves known. As Catherine disappeared from view, Rian decided he could not wash his hands of Isabel entirely. He needed someone to tell him when the child was born, someone to alert him if she decided to test the boundaries of the agreement with John Fletcher. Someone who, above all, would be discreet. It sounded like a task for Stuart Collins.
The onset of the cooler evening temperatures encouraged the pursuit of activities more suited to the indoors, and so it was that one evening they all decided to explore more thoroughly the paintings in the portrait gallery. The Connor ancestors all seemed to be gazing back at Catherine with austere and slightly disapproving expressions. “Why do they all look so miserable?” she asked Rian. “Is having your portrait painted really such an awful chore?”
He had chuckled softly at her miffed expression. “Perhaps it is the knowledge that they will be on silent display for each successive generation to criticize that makes them look grumpy,” he told her. “Although I suspect with one or two the tight lacing of a corset would be a more reasonable explanation.”
She turned and looked at him, a smile warming her face. “Why are there no portraits of you or Liam?”
“It’s tradition to paint only the owners of Oakhaven,” he said, waving toward his ancestors, “and I am sure Felicity will talk Liam into a sitting soon enough.”
Catherine stopped and sighed wistfully as she recognized the canary diamond that adorned the ring finger of one woman in a large painting. Absentmindedly, she twisted the same ring decorating her own hand as she looked up at the beautiful but haughty face. She did not fail to notice that she had yet to see a portrait in which the sitter had been painted wearing the matching pendant.
“I am truly sorry I lost the necklace,” she said in a subdued voice.
Coming behind her, Rian placed his hand lightly in the small of her back. “It was your necklace,” he corrected, “and I have every faith that it will find its way back to the family. As I told you before, it always does somehow.”
“I remember your saying it has been lost before.” Catherine looked up at him, her expression hopeful. It would ease her conscience immensely if she knew she was not the first to have misplaced the fabulous gem.
With his hand on her elbow, Rian steered her down the hall, coming to a stop before a good-sized painting of a woman with flaming red hair and skin as white as snow. On the ground, tumbling around her feet and the billowing petticoats of her elaborate gown, were a mix of some half a dozen toddlers and small dogs. All of whom seemed to be having tremendous fun pulling tails and chewing feet. The subject of the painting was one of the rare few who seemed happy to have her image preserved for her descendants.
“She lost the pendant?” Catherine asked skeptically.
Rian nodded.
“How?”
“Absolutely no idea,” he admitted. “Family history says that a detailed account would not only be impolite, it might also prove embarrassing to a certain member of the Royal Family.”
“Hmmm, how very convenient.” Catherine stared at him for a few moments before turning her attention back to the figure in the painting. “So, if I were ever to have my portrait painted—”
“When your portrait is painted,” Rian corrected gently, “we will have a postscript entered into the Connor Family history so generations to come will know that you temporarily misplaced the diamond.”
“Misplaced,” Catherine murmured. “You really are very generous to describe its loss that way.” A frown suddenly puckered her brow. “But how would future generations know? You said that only the owners of Oakhaven can have their portraits in this gallery.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Then how would my painting be here?”
“I am sure Liam would make an exception. Besides”—he smiled at the confused look on her face—“do you not have a portrait gallery at The Hall?”
She shook her head. “Well, there’s a gallery but no paintings. Not anymore.” She thought of the beautiful canvases that had been catalogued and sold to pay her father’s debts. They had fetched more for the frames than the subject matter, or so she had been told.
“You have no picture of your father or mother?” Catherine shook her head. It had never bothered her before that neither of her parents’ likenesses had been captured, but now she felt the loss keenly. “Then I think it’s time the tradition was reinstated,” Rian said, sensing her sudden depression. “And your portrait would be the perfect start to such a collection.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it closed as Liam and Felicity joined them.
“Catherine, you really must come and see this!” Felicity took her hand with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, leading her toward a smaller display.
“Your wife found Uncle Seamus?” Rian asked, giving his brother a knowing look.
“That she did,” Liam confirmed, wearing a grin that lit up his face and stretched from ear to ear.
Their heads turned as one when Catherine, in a mix of disbelief and astonishment, declared,“ My God, you’re right; it is a goat!”
Two feminine heads swiveled to look at them, and Rian decided it was as good a moment as any to tell them the colorful tale of Uncle Seamus and his unabashed love for his beloved goat, Penelope. Before long both Felicity and Catherine were holding their sides as they giggled helplessly. Even Liam continued grinning, never tiring of the story. Rian, meanwhile, managed to keep a pained look on his face as if mortally offended by their mirth.
“Stop it!” Felicity admonished waving a hand weakly at him, her eyes damp with tears of laughter. “I refuse to believe that I have married into a family whose members openly admit to having a relative who slept with livestock!”
“But it’s true!” Rian defended in a wounded tone as he dramatically clutched his chest. “Uncle Seamus always claimed he couldn’t tell, between his wife and Penelope, which of them had the more beautiful beard. But rumor has it the goat had the better disposition!”
Howls of laughter echoed through the gallery and Rian allowed himself the comfort of a smile when he saw his brother hold onto his wife, and embrace her warmly. Later, when they said their goodnights, he had the feeling that it would not be long before they began trying for another child.