Chapter 22
Catherine enjoyed the house party. She spent a significant part of every day in Stephen’s company, but she also interacted with the other guests. They were pleasant people, and there was plenty of entertainment in the form of games and activities.
Two weeks after her arrival at Pemberley, she awoke a bit early. She had experienced a rather restless night, because her thoughts were all jumbled concerning how she felt about Stephen. She was nearly certain she loved him, but she wasn’t certain she wished to marry him. Marriage to Stephen was far more complicated than her sisters’ marriages had been.
Stephen was the oldest son of an earl. If Catherine married him, she was almost certain to be a countess one day. It was a position of power, and Catherine knew herself to be a follower, not a leader. She did not have confidence that she could ever do such a title justice.
Her decision was further complicated by the existence of her fortune. Even though her sisters were all well-provided for, her mother had no such security. Besides, the future held no guarantees. There was always the possibility that something could happen that would leave one of her sisters destitute.
Catherine still wished to maintain control of her money so that she could be in a position to help any member of her family that was struggling. She did not know if Stephen would allow her to retain control of her money should she decide to accept him.
Since she was awake and dressed before breakfast had even been laid out, Catherine decided to take a walk in the back garden, hoping to clear her head.
She quickly walked through the ornamental garden near the house. She found it boring with its sculpted hedges and paved pathways. She headed for the slightly wilder area beyond, where the plants were allowed to grow in any shape they pleased, but the grass was still trimmed to a pleasant height.
When she allowed herself, Catherine quite enjoyed the feeling of springy grass beneath her feet. She didn’t like the stains it sometimes left on her boots or the bottom of her dress, but on this particular morning, her mind was so full that she paid little attention. She also didn’t notice that it was a rather cloudy, heavy sort of morning.
She paced the grassy area that ran along a row of trees. She hoped to be able to come to a conclusion concerning how she should respond to Stephen’s growing advances. Over the last couple of days, his compliments had become more pointed and his smiles more suggestive. It left her breathless and longing for something that she could not define.
She was no closer to a decision, however, when someone came up beside her, saying, “May I join you?”
She stopped and looked up into the affectionate gaze of Stephen. “Of course,” she managed to say. Then she turned forward and resumed her walk.
They didn’t speak for a time. Catherine found the silence between them to be comfortable, as though nothing needed to be said. Gently, as though giving her time to refuse, Stephen took her hand in his and they walked hand-in-hand.
It was such a new sensation, yet at the same time both familiar and perfect, as if her hand had finally found the placewhere it belonged. For several minutes they walked in that way. Though Catherine’s plans to think about her future were washed away by Stephen’s presence, she could not regret it.
Their idyl was shattered when rain suddenly began pouring down on them. Instinctively, Catherine shrieked in dismay. She hated getting wet in the rain. It took hours to dry her hair, and she hated the way her clothes stuck to her.
She turned to begin running back toward the house, but Stephen said, “There is a gazebo that is closer.” He pointed, and she began running with him keeping pace beside her.
In less than a minute the two of them were safe under the roof of the gazebo. Catherine shook her hands in a futile attempt to shake some of the water off of her.
“At least it’s a warm day,” said Stephen. “We should be dry soon.”
“Yes, until we have to run through the rain back to the house,” said Catherine sourly. “Those clouds certainly look as if they might hold an entire day’s worth of rain. We will either be stuck here all day, or we will get even more soaked trying to run back to the house.”
“I think that is the most I have ever heard you complain,” said Stephen. Oddly, he seemed pleased. He was smiling at her.
“I don’t know why you should be so happy when I am complaining, especially since I was criticizing your decision to run here instead of to the house. Most people would find it rather off-putting,” said Catherine.
“It means that you are comfortable enough with me to drop your ever-present politeness,” he said. “I wouldn’t like it if you complained constantly, but I do genuinely want to know when you are uncomfortable or unhappy.”
“Well, I am certainly uncomfortable now,” she said. “I am not particularly fond of the way wet clothes stick to me.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she immediately knew that was the wrong thing to say. Stephen’s eyes were immediately drawn to her body, and she knew he could see her form clearly outlined by her wet dress.
He was kind enough not to say anything about it. He even looked away almost immediately, but the way he had looked at her lit something within her. She was suddenly very aware of every detail of him.
She noticed that he had some unshaven whiskers on his cheeks and chin, and she absently wondered if he had not shaved yet, since it was so early. She noticed the way his curly hair was plastered to his head, making him look very different yet still familiar.
Most of all, she noticed his lips. Those expressive lips that were, more often than not, quirked in some form of a smile. Right now, however, they were not smiling.
Not for the first time, but stronger than ever, Catherine had a desire to know what those lips would feel like pressed against her own.
“Kitty,” he said. “You need to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” she asked.
