Christmas At Pemberley: And the Bride Wore Prada

‘Ah. So the next time you come to visit us at Draemar,’ Tarquin observed, ‘you’ll no doubt be encumbered with a stroller and nappy bags and all manner of baby paraphernalia.’

‘It’s called a “travel system” now,’ Natalie informed him, ‘not a stroller. It turns into a baby carrier and a car seat, so you needn’t buy them all separately.’

‘What a marvellous idea,’ Pen remarked. ‘Things have certainly changed since my day. When I was a new mother, one brought the baby home from hospital in an infant carrier, and a pram was a great, cumbersome thing.’ She glanced over at Caitlin. ‘I remember pushing you around in that pram like it was yesterday.’

Caitlin stared at her plate and made no reply.

‘Excuse me.’ Archie stood up abruptly. ‘I’ve just remembered a call I need to make. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Enjoy your evening.’ And he turned to go.

Pen laid her napkin aside. ‘But...what about your dinner, darling? Shall I have cook send up a tray?’

‘No,’ he flung back over his shoulder as he made for the door. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘What on earth is going on?’ Natalie asked later as she and Rhys excused themselves and went to have an after-dinner drink in the drawing room. ‘The tension at that table was unbearable. Everyone seems to be unhappy tonight, in one way or another.’

‘You’re right,’ Rhys agreed. ‘The only happy one in the lot is Helen.’

‘Do you suppose...?’ Natalie began, as she and Rhys took seats by the fire and sipped their wine.

‘Do I suppose what?’ he asked.

She glanced up at Helen, who’d just come in to the drawing room with Tarquin and was laughing at something he’d said. ‘Do you suppose Helen’s seeing someone?’ she murmured. ‘She seems a bit...different, lately. Lighter. Less gloomy.’

‘And who do you imagine she’s seeing?’ Rhys scoffed. ‘There aren’t any spare men round here, Natalie, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Yes, there is. There’s one.’

‘Oh? And who’s that?’

‘Colm MacKenzie.’

Rhys set his glass of wine down abruptly. ‘Colm?’ he echoed. ‘I can’t think of anyone less likely to get involved with Helen than him. The two of them are nothing alike.’

‘Maybe not...but opposites attract. And I couldn’t help but notice that Helen wasn’t here for breakfast this morning.’

He shrugged. ‘She probably had a tray in her room. Or she wasn’t hungry.’

‘Or,’ Natalie said, her voice low but firm as she leant forward, ‘she wasn’t here, in the castle.’

‘Not here? And how would you know that?’ He regarded her with scepticism. ‘Where else would she be?’

‘I was going upstairs after breakfast this morning when Helen slipped in the front door. She had the same clothes on as yesterday,’ Natalie added, ‘I remember because I noticed her Christmas jumper. And,’ she added, if there was any doubt remaining, ‘she looked a bit guilty when she twigged that I saw her.’

‘She might’ve gone out to the store, or for a walk.’

‘She hasn’t a car,’ Natalie said triumphantly, ‘and none of the cars were gone from the drive. And she had her handbag with her. You don’t take your handbag with you on a walk...unless it’s the walk of shame. Rhys – she was at Colm’s! They spent the night together. Obviously.’

‘Well, Sherlock,’ Rhys warned her, ‘whether they did or they didn’t, it’s none of your concern.’

‘But it’s terribly romantic!’ Nat observed, and sipped her wine as she eyed Helen across the room. ‘She’s just what Colm needs – someone worldly and clever to draw him out a bit, someone to nurse his wounded soul.’

‘“Wounded soul?”’ Rhys echoed. ‘That’s ridiculous. He’s a groundskeeper, Nat, not...not Heathcliff!’

‘Someone,’ she went on dreamily, ‘to show him how to live, and put aside that awful Scottish dourness, and have a bit of fun.’

‘Hmm.’ He eyed Helen doubtfully. ‘Well if that’s what she means to do for Colm, then Helen’s certainly got her work cut out for her.’

Chapter 36 (#ulink_78a177e8-14f0-5d94-a060-e676068d66a3)

The summons from her father came that evening, as she’d known it would.

Caitlin gathered her resolve and left her room. She made her way down the hall to her father’s private study and knocked on the door.

‘Come in,’ he called out gruffly.

He glanced up as she came inside the room. A fire burned in the grate, casting a burnished glow over the leather chairs and tartan rug and the great mahogany desk he sat behind.

‘If this is about Niall,’ she began, ‘there’s nothing more to say.’

‘It isn’t about him. It’s about what he’s done to you, and what he intends to do about it.’

‘I told you, we’re getting married—’

‘His divorce has to come through first, Caitlin. That takes time. What happens while you wait? Are you having this baby? And if so, who’ll take care of it? Will he help out financially? Have you given a single thought to the practicalities?’

‘Yes, I’m having the baby,’ she said defiantly, ‘and of course I’m keeping it! Why wouldn’t I?’

He leant back in his chair. ‘Wren is under the impression that you’re giving the child up for adoption – to her, and Tarquin.’

Caitlin shifted on her feet. ‘Well, before I talked to Niall, that was the plan, yes. But he wants the baby. He’s over the moon with excitement.’

‘Is he, now?’ Archie’s expression was dark. ‘I’m sure he must feel quite chuffed to know he’s impregnated a girl who’s half his age—’

‘You make him sound ancient! He isn’t. He’s barely thirty-eight. And he wants this baby. Our baby. I thought you’d be pleased that he wants to marry me.’

‘Pleased?’ The word, when he spoke, came out deceptively low. ‘You think I’m pleased that my only daughter has gotten herself pregnant ‒ by a married man, no less – and thrown her education away in exchange for nappies and two o’clock feedings?’

‘I’ll go back to university. When the baby’s older,’ she replied, but the words sounded hollow, even to herself.

‘What about his wife? Have you given a thought to her? He’s breaking up a marriage! And what about Wren? You have to tell her that you’ve changed your mind, and you’re not giving the baby up for adoption. She’ll be devastated.’

Caitlin hung her head. ‘I know she will,’ she admitted. ‘And I’m truly sorry for that. I know how much she and Tark want a baby. But...it can’t be helped. She’ll just have to understand.’

‘Well, lassie,’ Archie said as he thrust back his chair and stood up abruptly, ‘I hope she does. Because I can tell you this much – I damned sure don’t.’

Later that evening, Dominic crept upstairs and came to a stop outside the door to Archibald Campbell’s study. He listened, but heard nothing.

‘Dominic!’ Gemma shrilled from somewhere downstairs. ‘Dominic, where are you?’