Summary: After overhearing the talk between her stepmother and the bishop, Catherine can’t cope with all the feelings she’s having, all hope gone. Good thing that there’s someone there for her, who’s willing to do anything to make her feel better…
Note: I have no good reason for this one, okay? I just wanted to write something Mr Sinclaire related and since last chapter left me craving for the kiss that still didn’t happen I got this idea and I just went for it? It’s also an entry for my friend’s amaaazing November Challenge she’s hosting, today’s prompt was “Love”. So here you go @meeraaverywalker! Hope you will like it and thanks for that challenge! <3
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters here, just borrowing them. All rights go to Pixelberry Studios.
That was the only thing Catherine could feel when she stormed out from Duke Richard’s home, right into the gardens, having to run away, away from the crowd awaiting her inside, away from all those pairs of prying eyes, away from the whispers, gossips, away from the people wanting to hurt her… The doors closed behind her with a loud bang and the cold evening air hit her bare shoulders, goosebumps appearing on her skin in an instance. But this cold was the last thing she could worry about right now… She crossed arms on her chest, feeling tears gathering under her eyelids, threatening of spilling, that feeling of betrayal almost like a dagger right into her heart.
She could still hear the talk between Countess Henrietta and Bishop, ringing in her ears, when her faith in Monroe’s decency, her hope that he will make a right choice resulted in nothing more than a heartbreak when one offer from her stepmother was enough to make this man gave up, the vision of money too tempting to care about the feelings of some poor girl, being nothing to him in that moment. The first tear streamed down her cheek and Catherine wiped it away, annoyed by its presence. She couldn’t cry, not here, not now; she couldn’t show any sign of weakness in front of all those people who just wanted to see her fail. She tried so hard for all this time she spent here, with her father. Learning so many new things and skills, polishing her manners under the careful eye of Lady Grandmother, trying to be the accomplished lady everyone expected her to be. And what was it all for? Why all these efforts, if they meant nothing now? No matter how much she tried, no matter how perfectly she mastered the dancing skills, no matter how flawless were her paintings, she could still feel out of this place, unwanted, always in the shadow of people shining in the society, like Miss Holloway. Maybe she wasn’t raised by any Lord, maybe she didn’t spend her childhood like other nobles here, but she most certainly had Earl’s blood in her veins. Wasn’t it enough? Not enough to at least give the smallest attempt to accept her? What else should she do, what else sacrifice to finally feel like one of them?
The sound of doors opening behind her startled her. She immediately wiped away all of her tears with both her hands, sniffing, trying to compose herself as much as she could. She couldn’t risk being seen right now, she couldn’t allow herself for another mistake, she couldn’t give anyone a chance to see her in a state like this.
“Miss Beckett?”
What was her relief to hear the familiar voice and the one who was most definitely friendly, belonging to the person she admired and always seek his company. But even Mr Sinclaire couldn’t help her right now, even his presence couldn’t be enough to make her feel better, not when everything she worked so hard for was going to crumble.
“Yes, Mr Sinclaire?” She asked, clearing her throat and turning around to look at him, thankful for the dim light in the garden, helping her to cover the tears still shining in her eyes.
“Miss Beckett, you’re going to catch a cold, it’s chilly and…”
“It doesn’t matter.” She said, shrugging.
“Pardon me?”
“I said it doesn’t matter. Me. Catching a cold. I don’t mind. Frankly, Mr Sinclaire, I am quite indifferent to what would happen to me right now.” She bit her lower lip, regretting words just spoken, knowing that they would only cause even more questions.
“Now why would you say such a thing, Lady Catherine?”
She hesitated for a moment, two sides of her trying to decide whether it was worth to tell him anything, or it was better to keep it all to herself. But when she felt another sting in her heart, new tears gathering in her eyes, she knew that she didn’t have much of a choice.
“Bishop Monroe…” She started, shaking her head. “He… He won’t support my claims to inherit Edgewater.” She finished, a long, heavy breath escaping her mouth.
“Look, my lady, you can’t be sure of it...”
“Sure? I am very much sure, Mr Sinclaire!” Almost involuntarily Catherine raised her voice. “I’ve just overheard the talk between my stepmother and the Bishop! She offered him money if he’d support her, not me!”
Her words, spoken with such anger, echoed in the garden, her raised voice so surprising both to her and Mr Sinclaire, who took a step back, almost like she had slapped him, his eyes widening.
“It… It can’t be…”
“But it is…” She sighed, heavily, shaking her head. “I truly thought that I will have a chance for Edgewater, that with friends, with allies that I made, the justice will be done but…” Catherine shook her head again, blinking furiously, tears threatening of spilling once again. “I forgot about one tiny detail, a thing, that I do not possess – money. It’s what rules our world, Mr Sinclaire, not titles, not favors, and most definitely not decency.”
“But I thought… I hoped… I was sure that Bishop would make a proper decision and that his support…” His voice trailed off when he understood that everything he was saying was a truth already known to her and that none of his words will help her feel any better in this situation. “I am deeply sorry, Lady Catherine… I can’t imagine what are you feeling right now, but believe me, if there’s anything…”
“There’s nothing… Nothing!” Catherine threw her hands in the air with frustration, before hiding face into her hands, trying to calm down, reminding herself that it wasn’t the right place, it wasn’t the time to let her emotions win over her common sense. “I just… I don’t understand what have I ever done to her…” She said quietly, once again crossing arms on her chest. “I’ve never spoken ill of her or wished her any bad luck…” Catherine shook her head with resignation, so stubbornly trying to find anything in her behavior that might have cause her stepmother to truly hate her.
“Sometimes people don’t need any reason to just be who they truly are.” Mr Sinclaire shrugged, clasping hands behind his back, his eyes never leaving Catherine’s face. “And most definitely in their cruel actions they don’t think of people they might hurt in a process…” His forehead frowned, when for a brief moment he was taken back in time, his memories taking him to that moment when his own heart was broken, when he was asking himself the same ‘Why me’? question over and over again… And never got any answer for it…
“I just…” Catherine shook her head again. “I still can’t believe she would do that…Sabotaging me like that, locking me in my own room, speaking ill of my father, who was nothing but the kindest man I ever knew…” With every word, every memory, she was getting angrier and angrier again, unable to tame it, all of her emotions wanting to pour out. “And that she dared to bribe Bishop! How could she even propose something like that? Does she have no shame? No shame at all!? She had everything she could ask for, a husband, a… a home, a true family and I? I had nothing of this, nothing! And now she can’t even give me the slightest chance for happiness! This… This sad, old… Wench!” Words left her mouth before Catherine had a chance to rethink them.
But as soon as she did, she realized her mistake, the words she spoke in her anger and the words that were most inappropriate, both for her to say and Mr Sinclaire to hear. Her eyes widened and she quickly covered her mouth with both hands, shaking her head, almost like it could help erase the memory of the word she has just spoken. Her terrified and embarrassed eyes moved up, looking at the man standing in front of her, when Mr Sinclaire just looked at her, raising his brow questioningly.
“I am deeply sorry, Mr Sinclaire…” Catherine spoke, still terrified by her outburst. “I… I shouldn’t have said that, it was most inappropriate and…”
“You don’t have to apologize, Miss Beckett. Frankly, I am sure that your stepmother deserves being called even worse…” He couldn’t resist anymore and his lips lifted in a smile.
Catherine looked at him, surprised that he didn’t scold her at all and seeing his face, she allowed herself to relax, breathing out the air she wasn’t aware she was holding, the corners of her lips twitching, almost smiling. But that ghost of a smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared in first place, leaving her face worried once again.
“If only she could understand I have no intentions of hurting her…” She sighed. “All I ever wanted was… a family…” her voice broke, when she tried to ignore that feeling of something holding her throat firmly.
It was true. When her mother confessed that her father was well and alive, all Catherine ever hoped for was finding him, finding the family he had, the family that was now also hers. She never wanted the Edgewater, the complications coming with it, or the titles. She would never expect or hope that her father will not only accept her as his true daughter but that he will also decide to give the whole land and their properties to her. Was she really to blame for the choices of her father’s heart? Was it her fault that he made this decision? Should she really be condemned by whole society, just because her stepmother couldn’t accept her like her father did? Was her one tender heart, wanting nothing more than a family, truly such a big threat, that should be ripped out of her chest?
Catherine wrapped arms around her body, suddenly very aware of cold evening and she moved, her legs carrying her even further into the garden. Half of her was hoping that Mr Sinclaire will go back to his own business and leave her alone, to let her cry over everything she has lost. But no. She could still hear his steps behind her, following her, almost like a guardian angel, not allowing to let her off his sight. Until suddenly she stopped, a huge stone fountain right in front of her, in a blink of an eye reminding her of another night like this, another garden, another party and another fountain. It felt like it happened an eternity ago, when full of despair after her father’s funeral, she unexpectedly found hope in the most desired company, found hope in the most unusual gesture, when she threw one coin into the fountain water, silently thinking of a wish, hoping with all of her strength that it will come true one day. Other night, other garden, other fountain and the other girl. That girl grew up, learned the harsh truth about the world; that girl was just a naïve child back then, hoping for impossible, hoping that her small wish will come to life somehow and that girl was no more. And now Catherine was standing in front of another fountain, her heart no longer hoping for the same thing, with no intentions of throwing another coin, knowing it will only end up with another disappointment.
“Miss Beckett? Can I ask… What’s wrong?”
“All I ever asked for was a happy ending…” She whispered silently. “Having home, family, friends, maybe…” She hesitated, her fingers barely brushing the surface of the water, causing wrinkles, spreading in every direction in soft waves. Maybe finding true love… She shook her head again, taking her hand back. “I guess making wishes by fountains is an entertainment suitable for children and young, naïve girls.”
“That’s not true.”
“No?” Her lips curled in a smile and she laughed shortly, but it was laugh full of pain, full of disappointment, when her once hopeful, joyful heart was now accepting the harsh, cold truth about the world. That a girl like her meant nothing and will never mean anything, no matter how much she will try to prove otherwise. “Have your wish came to life, Mr Sinclaire?” She asked skeptically, raising her brow at him. “The one you made that night?”
“No.” He admitted, taking a step towards her. “At least not yet, but… With a bit of luck, if fate will be favorable…” He hung his voice, coming another few steps closer to her. “I hoped it may happen soon.”
She raised her brow, shocked by his answer, shocked by the soft look in his eyes when he kept on looking at her.
“How soon?” She asked, clearing her throat.
His lips twitched, almost like he was suppressing another smile, when he leaned closer to her, his warm breath brushing the skin on her face one, his voice barely a whisper.
“Very soon...”
Catherine blinked, looking at him from under her eyelashes, suddenly being extremely aware of their proximity, of how close his body was to hers. Her own pride was telling her that his fountain wish must have included her somehow, that it couldn’t be just a coincidence. But at the same time she was trying to calm her beating heart down, making sure that she wasn’t going ahead of herself. Because what could possibly a man like Ernest Sinclaire wanted to do with her? Even if he wasn’t a noble, he was still a respectful gentleman and she? She was nothing but a liability, for herself, for everyone, just an ordinary girl trying to fit in a world she didn’t belong to. Why was her stupid heart hoping for so many things, the ones she could never have? Catherine was already opening her mouth, ready to ask him a forward question this time, to make him confess to the wishes of his heart, when suddenly he reached out to her, his warm hand resting on her cheek now, his fingers gently brushing her skin there, caressing it tenderly. Even against herself, against her own dark thoughts she allowed herself to lean into his touch and close her eyes, trying to remember that amazing feeling of him being so close to her, his one single gesture capable of taking away all of her worries, even if just for this one brief moment. She rather sensed then noticed that he shifted and her eyes shot open when his other palm rested on her left cheek now, both of his hands gently holding her face, raising it a bit higher, his crystal blue eyes meeting her dark ones.
“May I…” he started, his voice shaking strangely, when he tried to mask his nervousness. “May I kiss you, my lady?”
If it’s possible, her eyes widened even more, the shock caused by the question making her speechless for a second. Until she met his eyes, so full of hope, strangely vulnerable, almost begging her to say ‘yes’. And Catherine smiled, her lips finally lifting up, for the first time this evening and a silent whisper leaving her mouth, giving him the answer he wanted so badly.
If it’s possible, he moved even closer to her, gently brushing away a few lost hairstrands from her cheeks, tucking them behind her ear, his soft gaze moving across her face, almost like he wanted to memorize it, every detail of it. Catherine couldn’t even properly breath, her throat dry, her mind empty, almost like a white sheet of paper when she could only look at his face, noticing how his gaze was moving across her forehead, her eyes, nose and cheeks until finally it stopped on her lips. She wasn’t sure if they were standing like that for seconds or maybe for minutes, when he finally leaned down, their lips meeting halfway. She needed a moment to fully acknowledge the fact that Mr Sinclaire, the man she was dreaming about for the last few weeks, was standing in front of her, holding her in his arms and kissing her. Kissing her. And oh, that kiss… It was everything she could wish for and even more. Soft, tender, sweet, but at the same time deeper and deeper with every passing second, his mouth fitting perfectly with hers, almost like they were two halfes, made for each other. Her lips were eagerly answering his kisses, moving slowly, with no haste, wanting to prolong that magical moment as long as she could, never wanting to part from this man, her arms reaching out to him, circling around his neck, pulling him even closer. Until finally the lack of air was too much and they parted, breathing heavily, their breaths mixing together. Her eyes were still closed, even when he already pulled back, almost like she was afraid that it was just a beautiful dream and as soon as she opens those eyes, it will all disappear, that they will disappear.
“My wish was granted…” He whispered against her lips, unable to hide a tenderness in his gaze, moving across her face, when Catherine finally dared to open her eyes. “And now it’s time to fulfill yours.”
“I… I don’t understand, I’m…”
“You are a true heir of Edgewater, Catherine. That’s what your father wanted for you and that’s what I, what we, all your friends, want for you. Your stepmother may try to say otherwise, she may even try to move heaven and earth, but you can’t give up. You are strong, my lady and can’t let anything and anyone make you turn back from the path you have chosen. Fountains wishes or not, you are the maker of your own fate. And if there’s a slightest chance of winning Edgewater – you should take it.”
Catherine was looking at him for a longer time, letting his words sink, finally understanding that after all - he was right. She was always taught that she should fight until the very end, no matter if it was a foolish race with Briar through the fields, a bet she made with a neighbor or a chance to win her heritage. She went so far, she had no intentions of giving up. Not now, not ever. She nodded, hesitantly at first, then more fiercely, fire in her eyes lit again.
“I won’t give up.” She said. “I won’t let her win, not without a fight. Life… Life already taken away everything I’ve cherished. I won’t allow her to take away the last things on this Earth that matter to me.”
“You do that, Miss Beckett.” He smiled. “And remember, you are not alone…”
Catherine smiled to him gratefully, placing her own palm on his right hand, still resting on her cheek, taking all the strength and comfort she could from this one gesture, from the warmth of his skin against hers.
“Now go, my lady.” Reluctantly, he took back hands from her face, almost like he didn’t want to do that, not yet at least. “Go and show them what lady Catherine of Edgewater is truly made of…”
With one last grateful smile, Catherine turned around, ready to go back, just as he told her, when suddenly she stopped, once again looking at him.
“Oh, Mr Sinclaire?”
“Yes, Miss Beckett?”
She hesitated, her mouth opening and then closing again before finally she shook her head, a strange smile on her lips.
“I made two wishes, back at the fountain.”
“Oh?” His brow lifted. “Isn’t this cheating, Lady Catherine? One coin, two wishes?”
“Maybe…” Her smile grew even bigger as she cocked her head to the side, still gazing at him. “But I will need you to help me fulfill the other one…”
“Oh?” If it’s possible, his brow raised even higher, a faint, almost unnoticeable blush appearing on his cheeks now. “May I boldly ask… What kind of wish requires my presence?”
He never had a chance to hear her answer. Catherine just smiled mysteriously, turning her back to him and slowly moving her way back towards the mansion, her back once again straightened, her head raised proudly, a perfect picture of a lady unafraid of anything and anyone, a lady he knew so well. Ernest smiled, looking longingly at the girl, slowly disappearing in the distance, a sudden realization striking him. That feeling? The one she awoke in him? The one he thought that was long gone? The one that vanished along with his first wife’s betrayal? The one which was now once again filling his heart, with a warmth he didn’t realize he missed that much? That feeling? He knew it, he recognized it, as soon as it crept silently into his heart, finding a welcoming place there. And now, watching Catherine’s figure disappearing in the distance, he finally knew. This feeling?
