XV. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

After a few tumbles and rumbling across the floor, playful innuendos and a few passionate kisses, for who knew how long, she stopped as she looked down at me, both of us nearly laughing. Then this epiphany hit me, and I stopped laughing. I felt torn between the wrong in what I was doing, but not wanting to deny my enjoyment despite the circumstances.

"What is the matter, John?"

"Nothing. I merely thought—"

"You think too much." We resumed where we left off. I didn't want this to end, but I secretly knew it had to.

And it did. We were interrupted by a knock on the door. We scrambled to find our garments before she opened the door a crack. "What is it?" She addressed a servant.

"Lady Catherine, you have a visitor."

"At this hour? Who—" a sudden realization must have hit her, because she wasn't at all surprised and added, "Tell him I'll be out shortly." She made certain her shift wasn't inside out while I hastily attempted to put my clothing back on. "You must go, John. 'Twould not please him to see you here."

"Him?"

"Ssh!" She put a finger to her lips, whispering, "There's no time to explain. Gather your things, and go out that other doorway. There's another hall that will lead you out." She opened the door enough to let herself out.

While I managed to put my clothing somewhat back together, a part of me was a bit curious. Who was this visitor? I had a feeling I was better off not knowing. I originally headed toward a back doorway, but I instead went down a hall that I knew led to her foyer, being cautious not to be in view. I could see the back of her hair and a young man. Bugger! I knew it!

I was surprised how easily and warmly she received him. As they embraced, he spun her around, ending it with passionate kisses. Afterward, Cate pulled back.

"Nearly three months ago, you told me you couldn't see me for a while due to personal matters. Now, here you are."

"Forgive me, I couldn't sleep. I needed to see you." I noted my comrade, normally put together, indeed appeared worn and a bit disheveled.

"How is life with the Missus these days?"

"Hell—in a manner of speaking. A short while ago, we had a quarrel over possibly moving closer to her mother's, since she claims she already spends more time with her than I. You're well aware of my feelings toward the mother-in-law. She recently visited for a month and nearly moved herself in: insisting on her or her husband's name for our child...rearranging every room, including my personal study...planning for additional grandchildren... . Of course the Missus agrees with her mother about everything, and expects me to, as well. Heaven forbid I say 'no' to either of them, I'm an enemy in my own home!"

"Cheer up, dear. Her home can't be as far as when I had to move to Yorkshire. The isolation...needless to say, certain matters pushed me to move back here. As a lady myself, I understand wanting to be closer to one's family, especially to keep her and the child company... ."

"I suppose not everything can be a bed of roses... ."

"Such an arrangement could be made... ."

Her chuckling as he carried her up the stairs, was my cue to leave, as I quietly snuck out a back door and found my horse. On my way out to the main road, I lamented what I had done and seen. Bollocks! How did I put myself into quite the pickle I'm in now?!

I made my way back to Kenny's. I opened the door to find him blocking the doorway.

"Awfully late, are you not?"

"I was unaware I had a curfew!"

"Come now, Smithy. I'm merely teasing, you know."

As he let me in, he looked at my disheveled appearance, and noted a faint scent. "Is that perfume I smell?" I chuckled. "Smithy—you've done me proud!"

But being "proud" was the least on my mind at the moment. Shameful, foolish and thoughtless described me best. He couldn't ever know... .

By daybreak, we heard anxious knocking on the main door. Archer awaited us.

"Kendall, Smith, have either of you seen Bart?"

Kendall replied, puzzled. "I'm afraid not. Whatever is the matter?"

"Mary sent one of her servants to my place, asking if he stopped by. Apparently he headed out late last night. I hadn't seen him, and presumed he would be here, or at his brother's. Anthony hasn't seen him either."

"He'll be alright," I decidedly broke my silence.

"How are you so certain?" Arch asked.

I paused. "I simply know. I have an inkling he probably needed time to clear his mind."

"I suppose you're right," Kendall agreed. "He always finds his way."

Sure enough, it wasn't much longer when a familiar knock came and we opened the door.

"Good day men," he greeted us cordially.

"Gos, where the bloody hell were you?!" Kendall inquired.

"Oh, I was out and about. I'm in better spirits now."

"At least someone is," Arch mused. "Mary has been worried sick about you."

"Has she?"

"She sent someone looking for you at my house early this morning. I thought you'd be here. She seems to believe you weren't coming back."

"I see... ." His cheery demeanor became solemn. "Well, perhaps I must be going. I'll come again some other time."

"But you've just arrived!"

"I know, Gabe, but I've been quite an ass, at the moment."

"Mind if I follow along? You'll pass through my town."

"No, not at all." He turned back to us. "Are you coming over for dinner on the morrow?"

"Course." Kenny replied. "Why wouldn't I when food is involved?"

"John?"

"Certainly." He appeared puzzled by my quiet demeanor, but went out the door with Arch.

"What's the matter, Smithy?" Kenny asked. "You seem rather depressed."

"I can't believe... ."

"What? Oh, that... ." I nodded. "The first time is the hardest. Afterward, it becomes easier," he assured me.

Of course, that wasn't the entirety, but I couldn't possibly tell him what was truly on my mind... .

Nevertheless I put it behind me, as we dressed our best and made our way over to the stunningly moated Otley Hall.

"Good even, men," our host greeted us as we entered. He turned to a rather expectant brunette and began, "John, I'd like you to meet—"

"Mary. I'm his wife."

"Yes, I was about to mention that." His tone indicated a sense of annoyance.

"Do pardon my interrupting, John, but my husband isn't always clear about such things."

"Shall we proceed?" The host brought me over to his other family members. Of course, I already recognized Anthony, and another man in particular.

"John, you've met my cousin Edward as a mercenary, I believe?"

"Indeed."

"Edward-Maria Wingfield." The stiff redheaded male shook hands with me. I tried covering my mouth to hide my chuckle at the way he introduced himself. "What do you find so amusing?"

"Pardon, me, but 'Maria' always reminded me of the Virgin Mother."

"'Twas my father's middle name!"

"And indeed, 'twas a great choice for a name," I added nervously.

He seemed indifferent but eyed me cautiously. "Were you not the John Smith that was at the Earl of Southampton's the other night? The one who made a spectacle of himself inquiring Sir Raleigh and Devereux for enlistment?"

"Edward," my friend interjected. "Where are your manners? There are many 'Smiths' around London. Why draw such a conclusion?"

"My apologies, I thought you were familiar." I'm not certain he was convinced, but he no longer questioned me.

We were ushered into the main dining room. How I wished I could float to the top of the high ceiling. I felt better when Anthony came over to me. "Don't mind Edward. 'Tis always been a sensitive topic for him. We occasionally wonder if we should consider him a cousin at all." He had reserved me a seat near him and his fiancée, Martha.

"And how was the ball at Harry's, Wingfield?" Bart was at one end of the table, closest to us. "Apparently, you went."

"Southampton isn't one to disappoint—'twas very lively. I had a good laugh watching the haughty Sir Raleigh, get slapped in the face, by Lady Catherine—"

"Catherine Barrington?"

"Indeed Bartholomew, 'twas her. I'm certain the old wanker probably deserved it, whatever he did to upset her."

"'Lady' Catherine," I heard Mrs. Gosnold scoff at the other end of the table. "I wonder about her whenever I visit London." She added. "Now that I mention it, John, I seem to recall seeing you before with her in town."

I swallowed my food cautiously, wondering how I should answer. "You must be mistaken."

"Pardon me, then. Perhaps I've mistaken another man for resembling yourself."

I swallowed some wine to distract myself. From the corner of my eye, I could see Bart's questionable glance turn into deep thought, as he chewed his food.

"In any case, 'tis quite peculiar she's always seemingly in the company of other men, and hardly ever the same man. 'Tis not becoming of a lady. Does she not have a husband to keep her company—"

"Ahem!" Her husband redirected the conversation back to Wingfield.

"Needless to say, I think you would have enjoyed yourself. The Earl himself made mention he wished you had come."

"Yes, unfortunately I had to inform my good friend Harry I'd be unable to attend... ."

"Bartholomew already planned to attend with a friend, but I insisted I'd be able to go with him. Unfortunately, I was a bit ill on the morning. By midday I was better, but much too exhausted. You know how childbearing can take a toll on a woman... ."

Her husband was hardly listening. I could tell his mind was drifting elsewhere... .

"Well, I thank you for the invitation, Mr. And Mrs. Gosnold," I spoke. "But it has become rather late. I should be headed out soon."

"Thank you for coming," his wife replied.

My friend followed me to the door. "John, are you well?"

"Fine, I'm merely exhausted. I didn't sleep well last night."

"I see," he added. "Please know you're always welcome here."

"Thank you."

He looked back inside. "Kenny and Arch are going back with you. Godspeed."

My lingering secret was getting the best of me. Despite Arch continuously asking me, I insisted I was alright, until we dropped him off at his home. Kenny decided to take me to the Tavern for a few drinks to clear my mind. But after a while, Kenny, showed his concern.

"You know, I enjoy a pint or two as much as the next mate, but even I have my limit. Suppose we head back for good night's sleep?"

"Nay, I'm staying."

"Bloody hell, Smithy! I'm not going to sit here and watch you turn yourself into a drunken boar! I know too well what too many drinks will do to a man—"

"Well bugger off, then!" I hastily replied, wishing I hadn't.

"Bugger off?!" He arose, offended. "As you wish." I heard him add on his way out. "My door will be open."

I don't remember how many drinks I had that night, but what did I care? At the moment, I didn't give a d— about myself, anymore. Swig after swig, the following events were hazy and dreamlike of me spinning through the streets with strange faces before passing out... .