Chapter One—The Beginning
"James? Are you there?" called Cathy in the quiet, unassuming voice that always told him she needed help but hated imposing. Poor thing, she was only eight, so small she could pass for six, despite the maturity of her features, and she had been mostly confined to bed for the last year; this, coupled with the generous and affectionate spirit Nature had bestowed upon her, led her always to believe that she was a nuisance and a bother. In fact, James thought that she was less of a nuisance as an invalid than most children were when healthy, and more of an angel, and he loved her accordingly.
He quickly made his way to her bedside. She looked paler than usual. "What's the matter, Cathy?"
"I think I am going to be sick again," she murmured. "I'm sorry."
He stroked her hair gently. "Poor little alley cat. Shall I get you a basin?"
She smiled at his nickname for her. "Yes please. Are Mama and Papa still out?"
"Yes. They will be back soon." He patted her forehead with a damp cloth and held her hair back while she vomited into the basin he had handed her. It made him so unhappy to see her thin little body racked with pain, but he tried to smile as she lay back, tired, and took the basin away. He was back soon. "How are you feeling?"
She smiled bravely. "I'm allright. Will you stay and talk to me?"
"Of course," he said softly. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Mama said something about a new family coming to Gapwick. Is it true?"
"Yes, indeed it is," he said, sitting back in the chair. "The Maxwells. I have heard they are an exceedingly pleasant family. Papa has visited them already. He said they seem very genteel but not exactly well-to-do. Mr Maxwell, he says, is not the most accommodating of men, but he says Mrs Maxwell and her children are kindness itself."
"How old are the children?" asked Cathy eagerly.
"I believe the eldest son is one-and-twenty, and the youngest daughter is eleven, and there are three children in between them. Two sons and three daughters."
"When shall we meet them?"
"Well, I heard a rumour that they are coming to us for dinner two days from now…"
"Oh, good. I like new people," said Cathy, looking happy as she lay back on her pillow. "I hope I will be well enough to see them. I have a feeling about them. I think they will be our friends."
"Do you?" smiled James. "That is comforting to hear."
Cathy smiled back. "Don't you dare make fun of me, James Bennet."
"Me? Make fun of you, Cathy?"
Cathy pouted. "I hope Mama and Papa come home soon. Then you can leave me and go out and shoot, or whatever it is you men like to do."
James sensed the slightly guilty tone of her voice, and airily replied, "Oh, no, I don't care for shooting today. I am amusing myself too well here, making fun of you."
She relaxed slightly. "Very funny, James. What else did Papa say about the Maxwells?"
"That the eldest daughter, Elizabeth, is very pretty; that Helena, the youngest, is all energy and brightness; that the youngest boy, whose name I forget, is obsessed with all things mechanical. He said Mr Maxwell thinks himself very intelligent and Mrs Maxwell is very intelligent."
"Well, she is a woman—of course she is," said Cathy, looking mischievous. He was pleased to see some more colour come back into her face.
"Cathy! Please! Have some discretion, show some propriety," said James, in an uncannily fair representation of their maiden aunt, Matilda Bennet, who often stayed with her brother's family in Gapwick.
Cathy giggled. "I will own this, James, you show an extraordinary amount of intelligence for a male."
"Thank you, Cathy," said James, looking humble. "That means a lot to me."
"Don't get conceited," she warned him. "You are fourteen years older than me. That is a big advantage."
He hung his head. "Very true."
"Don't laugh at me, James!"
He laughed, and stood up. "I think you should get some rest now, Cathy."
She sighed. "I suppose so."
"Are you feeling better?"
"Yes. Will you send Mama or Papa in when they get back from our uncle's house?"
He stroked her hair. "I will not need to; they will come without any prompting."
She smiled. "Thank you, James."
He frowned. "What did I tell you yesterday, about not apologising or thanking all the time? I have enjoyed myself. Sleep well."
She nodded, looking slightly happier. James pulled the curtains and quietly shut the door. He leaned against the wall for a moment, looking worried. Cathy was just getting thinner and thinner.
He moved slowly through to the library, and sat down with his book again. His cousin Frederick Collins would have disapproved of it greatly; it was a book on Greek mythology. Currently he was rereading the story of Oedipus. Frederick called it "immoral, improbable stuff, not worth the paper it was written on". His cousin was a stolid, staunchly practical sort of person, who couldn't understand the idea of literature for literature's sake. "If it doesn't have a practical or religious use, what is the use of reading it?" James disagreed. He thought it was fascinating. "But then, you have always been overly bookish, have you not, James?" he remembered Frederick saying. He laughed. Frederick was such a stodge, but James liked him, in an affectionate sort of way. His cousin was four years older than him, at six-and-twenty, but James had always outstripped Frederick in anything he had attempted. He could tell Frederick thought this wasn't quite right, but had always treated James with the same kindly attentions and interest in his wellbeing, and James respected him for that lack of jealousy.
His parents were at Frederick's house at that very moment, or on their way back, most probably. They had asked him if he wanted to come, as apparently Henrietta was longing to see him, but James, worried about Cathy, and eager to avoid Henrietta and her slightly embarrassing and irritating attentions, insisted on staying behind to watch Cathy rather than leaving her with Nurse, who deserved a day off.
He shook these thoughts from his head, and tried to concentrate on Oedipus Rex.
"Hello, darling."
It was Papa. Cathy opened her eyes blearily. "Papa…"
He smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"
She smiled, stretching. "Good. How long have I slept?"
"Nurse says since two o'clock, and it is now… hmmm… eight o'clock. I thought you might like to be woken."
"Eight o'clock!" Cathy exclaimed, sitting up. Sure enough, it was dark outside, and Papa carried a candle. "Are the Maxwells still here?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes, but I think it best if you stay here, darling."
"Oh, Papa—"
He held up a finger. "Don't argue. I have a surprise for you."
She grinned impulsively. "Is it good to eat?"
"You could try, but I doubt of its being amenable to your tastebuds."
"Is it pretty?"
"Very." He turned to the door. "James is going to bring it up to you very soon. It wished most expressly to be acquainted with you. Sit tight."
He left the room, and Cathy lay back on the pillows, feeling tired and secretly not so upset to miss going downstairs. She saw the door open slowly, and James' head appear around it, smiling. "James! Did you bring me Papa's surprise?"
"I did indeed," James said, and opened the door wider. Behind him stood the most beautiful girl Cathy had ever seen, of about nineteen years, with curly, chestnut hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a happy smile on her face. The light settled on her in such a way that it almost seemed as if a halo shimmered above her head. "Cathy, this is Miss Elizabeth Maxwell. Miss Maxwell, this is my little sister, Miss Catherine Bennet!"
Cathy laughed. "So this was my pretty surprise!"
The apparition laughed. "I hope I have not disappointed you. I told you, Mr Bennet, that perhaps it was not a good idea!"
"No, I had rather meet you than get any present!" declared Cathy, sitting up against her pillows.
"Well, I must say I am glad to hear that, because I was most disappointed to hear you could not dine with us tonight," said Miss Maxwell, sitting down on the chair beside Cathy's bed, while James sat down on the other side of the bed. Cathy thought he looked at Miss Maxwell rather eagerly.
"Yes, Cathy, she particularly asked us why Miss Bennet was not present," he said, shifting his attention to his sister.
"Why?" asked Cathy with the bluntness of the child she was.
"Oh—well," Miss Maxwell whispered, "do you promise not to tell?"
"Yes," said Cathy, leaning forward with a smile on her face.
Miss Maxwell shot a quick smile at James. "I met a certain someone yesterday, on my walk. He told me that Miss Bennet was the cleverest, brightest girl around. I immediately wanted to meet her."
Cathy laughed, but looked sharply at James. "James, you met Miss Maxwell? You never told me."
"He must have forgotten," laughed Miss Maxwell.
James shook his head firmly. "Anything but that."
"Then what happened?" asked Cathy.
The two elders looked at each other briefly, smiling.