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Chapter Five
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow as seek to quench the fire of love withwords.
—Shakespeare,Two Gentlemen of Verona
Thoughts of whatcould have been, what should have been, haunted the long, dark hours. As dawn’s hue brought shape to the furniture in Catherine’s room, she arose and took care of her toilette. She dressed quickly but lingered in front of her mirror. Her forest-green riding habit was becoming, accentuating her eyes, highlighting her cascade of dark hair, its strands gleaming claret in the rising sun that caught the glass.
Who was she? Who was this woman who had given up the only man she could ever love for another who had also owned a piece of her heart since first memory? She scowled and stood straighter.Stuff and nonsense!She knew who she was—a woman who had done what had needed done. Out of love. She would do no differently if the hands of time could be wound back. Yesterday’s despair did not revoke that stark fact. Why must she continue to revisit this as though a different ending might result?
She shook her head, brushing at the soft fabric of her skirt. Besides, what did it matter? She could no more undo anything than she could fly. And there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She must face Nicholas. His censure. His disappointment. She must witness the pain wrought by her actions. A light scratch broke through her grim thoughts, and she opened the door to find a startled Sadie about to depart.
“Oh! You’re awake, Miss Baring!” The maid flushed. “I was trying to be quiet, thought you might still be abed,” she stammered.
While Catherine was no idler, she did not usually depart the hall at this hour. She smiled, trying to ease the jittery girl. Sadie was so anxious to please.
“Up and about, as you can see, and I do appreciate that you are available at such an hour. I shall enjoy a change of clothes when I return,” she said before heading down the corridor.
“Yes, miss,” a more cheerful Sadie replied. Catherine heard the click of her bedroom door as she reached the stairwell.We all need to be needed, she thought ruefully. What was to be her role in the years to come? Her father would continue to use her as his housekeeper and hostess. When he was gone, would Laurence? Would Laurence even return?
She took the stairs swiftly, running from such dark ruminations. Life would unfold as it would. Edwards must have overheard her speaking with Sadie, as he waited at the bottom of the stairs.
“Star is ready, Miss Baring. We gave her feed early, and she is anxious for some exercise.” He handed her a well-worn pair of riding gloves.
Edwards was perceptive, as always. Of course, he’d been party to arranging many a morning ride to meet Nicholas. Perhaps he just assumed she would slip back into her old routines. If only that were true. This was likely to be her last early-morning ride, at least in the direction she planned on heading. The lingering mists of her dream life would disappear with the stark reality of day.
“Thank you.” She exited the open door, pulling on her gloves as she descended the steps. Yes. Her old routine. In the year before his departure, she’d used to meet Nicholas at the large lake every morning. They had been friends for an eternity, comfortable companions. In that last year, her twenty-first, they’d discovered something entirely different with one another. The new flame that had ignited between them had only deepened their connection.
Of course, she’d known long before that summer that she was irrevocably in love with Nicholas, that no other could ever take his place, although she’d never shared that with him. He’d finally declared his feelings for her at the same time he’d shared he had purchased a commission and would be leaving for the continent. She had railed and stormed, but he’d been adamant. It had been for her. For them. He was four years her senior, and it had been time he made something of himself. He could not offer her great wealth or a title. The least she deserved was to be married to a man of honor. He did not want her to hang on to the arm of a second son who lived off the profits of the heir.
Tobias waited at the stable, grinning, holding Star’s bridle. As he was Mary’s grandson, Catherine had watched him grow up and ease comfortably into the role of a hardworking young man. His pleasure must come from anticipating her need; surely he did not remember her escapades of four years ago. He would have been only eleven. More likely, Mary had shared Catherine’s eager anticipation to meet Nicholas each morning. The cook did have a tendency toward gossip. Catherine shook off the embarrassment. There would be nothing of a tryst in this visit. She simply, and perhaps foolishly, needed to go to the lake this morning. If only to see Nicholas one last time without others standing witness. She did not doubt he would be there.
Tobias took her hand and assisted her onto the mounting block. From there, she easily threw herself onto the mare. She stroked Star’s luxurious chestnut coat, reaching over to touch the soft white blotch on the horse’s forehead. She’d always done so before a ride, to connect with the lovely girl, and for a little luck. A wish upon a star. What she would have given for wishes to be so easily granted.
“Thank you, Tobias.”
He tipped his cap, and she left the yard and headed down the path toward the first lake. Nicholas’s property bordered on her father’s with two lakes. The smaller was set back slightly from the main road. It was man-made and well stocked, mostly used as a diversion for houseguests of Woodfield Park.
The first lake was larger, nestled closer to the hillside, with a wonderful, cascading waterfall feeding it throughout the year. Its waters were fresh and clear, spectacular in all weather. This morning, the sun sparkled, dappling the water in a dance. A stark contrast to the churning dread inside her.
When planning the folly, Nicholas had shared his vision. She had sat with him by the waters as he’d designed and sketched the structure, soliciting her opinion throughout the project. That was when she’d known he was the best life had to offer, and she’d felt exceedingly blessed. That he would seek her opinion, and remodel according to her advice, affirmed he’d respected her as a person long before he’d loved her as a woman. She sighed. Now he must feel neither for her.
She followed the path around the lake, halting a few feet from the pavilion. It was a wonderful, classically styled building, its columns and dome a mirror of the new porte cochere and library of the main house. It should have been outlandish and out of place, but Nicholas had had the foresight to plan landscaping as well. They’d conferred on this at length. She loved gardening. The columns were rich with the blooms of violet clematis; rosebushes, abundant with butter blossoms, adorned the steps; and shrubbery abounded—all softening the blunt white structure.
How many times had she gone here to meet Nicholas? How many times had she come over the past four years to remember him? It was here Daniel had found her and proposed. He’d known she was at her most vulnerable when wrapped in reminiscences and had worked it to his advantage.
The memory should have drawn anger, but no ire flourished in her breast. Daniel was a charming scoundrel, always had been, and he’d done it for love. Could one ever begrudge that emotion? It was impossible for her to renounce it, although perhaps things might have turned out differently had she spurned him. Instead, she’d accepted his love as truth and acted in the best interest of their families.
She dismounted, leaving Star to graze. There was no need to tie the horse, as she would not leave. This was familiar territory to the mare, and she always waited patiently.
There was no sign of Nicholas. Well, that in and of itself was telling, was it not? If he did not come today, then he had truly severed her from his life. She could not blame him one whit. No, she could not fault him at all. Yet she would be forever tormented by his rejection, rightful or not.
She drifted up the steps of the folly, caressing the flower petals as she went. They were vibrant velvet, four years of growth obscuring the pillars with their beauty. She opened the oversize wooden door and entered the vast chamber. Nicholas had not wanted to break up the majestic interior.
Its lushness still made her happy. Nicholas had adhered to the barren beauty of classical structures but had furnished the space like a Turkish palace—plush carpets, comfortable settees, and extra wide chaise lounges abounded. Sheets of sheer curtains billowed in the breeze that flowed freely through the upper arches. The tall main windows remained fast against the weather, but he’d cleverly included arcs of open space at their tops, unimpeded by glass. He’d wanted the building to remain fresh at all times. Fresh as their newfound love. She smiled at the memory of his declaration.
“Catherine.”
Not a declaration but a prayer. His voice was reverent. Did she imagine it? She turned. He had come, his silhouette tall against the morning sun, his face hidden in the shadow.
