A/N. I'm so sorry it took so long to post the next chapter. My life is WAY too busy! However, I will try to finish this fic before September rolls around. To those who waited patiently, thank you so much--and also my apologies ahead of time, for I have no beta reader, and there may be some grammatical errors. Unless I haven't mentioned it (or if it isn't obvious), these characters belong to Baroness Orzcy. No copyright infringement intended.


Cayliegh pursed her lips contemplatively. Then an idea seemed to light up her features from the inside, out. "Why of course! It's so simple...you are an actress, Cathy, tell her you wish to meet with her to discuss technique!"

Catherine turned slightly green and did not answer. Cayliegh supposed it was from the bumpy carriage ride, and worried no more.

Inside the manor an hour later, Cayliegh began dictating a letter to Catherine. The invitation to tea was addressed to Sir Percival and Lady Blakeney. Catherine no longer looked green, but decidedly unsettled. Cayliegh thought to ask her companion what was troubling her after they finished the invitation. "Sir Percival and his Lady Blakeney..." Cayliegh began.

"Oh and that doesn't sound precocious," Catherine hissed.

Cayliegh was vaguely annoyed. What could be eating at Catherine? Cayliegh resolved to find out before they continued the invitation. If Catherine was upset her handwriting looked simply monstrous, and Cayliegh didn't want to have to re-copy the letter. "What is at your throat, Catherine?"

"Come again?" she answered vaguely, massaging her temples.

"You seem ill at ease. What's bothering you?"

Catherine could never hide her feelings from anyone who truly wanted to know them. She looked hard at Cayliegh as she intoned, "How do expect me not to make a fool of myself in front of her?"

Cayliegh was momentarily puzzled. "Oh, you mean Lady Blakeney? Never fear Cathy, you are talented in your field. I'm sure you will have much to talk about."

Catherine lowered her gaze. "Yes, of course...how silly of me." She did not look comforted.

"What makes you so unsure of yourself? It's uncharacteristic--"

"Merely that," Catherine broke in, not in anger, but almost resignedly, "I used to idolize her in my early student years...how she reacts means a lot to me, Cay. I'm just nervous, that's all."

Cayliegh smiled a warm smile. 'Poor dear, she tries so hard for the sake of her art.' "No need to be nervous; what is this but another performance for a select audience? Besides, I'll be there to help the conversation along."

At last Catherine relaxed. A small smile pulled at the edges of her lips. "Thank you Cay. And who knows?--this may be the start of your acting career."

Feeling much better about every aspect of their plan, the young ladies set to work on their letter of invitation.

~~four days later~~

Both ladies were about to jump out of their skins in prolonged agitation. They had gone shopping, and each girl had bought a beautiful new summer dress to entertain their guests in. Cayliegh's was a soft, rose petal pink which complimented her flowing golden hair. White lace accented the shoulder line, sleeves, and hem of the dress. Catherine had bought a pale yellow dress, also with white accents. The cut of the dresses, while not identical, were similar to each other, in such encouraging many giggled comments about looking like twins. They joked thus knowing full well they looked nothing like each other.

But the shopping trip had been two days ago, and now a strained, anxious feeling was nearly palpable in the room where Catherine and Cayliegh waited impatiently for the noon mail service. "Late as usual," Catherine had grumbled.

Cayliegh stared out a lovely French window. "Maybe we should write again? Or is that improper these days?

"I believe the latter to be true," Catherine sighed, waiting for an inspiration to come, all the same. Much to her surprise, an inspiration did come, but not concerning letter-writing. "Cayliegh, I think we need to go back to the library archives." Cayliegh gave her a look that said to continue her thought. "We probably need the specific information regarding which line connects our families to theirs. In fact, I'd feel foolish without it."

Cayliegh nodded her agreement and checked the clock on the mantle. "The carrier should be here any minute...I'll stay and wait for him. As much as I would love to visit Mr. Seanehan and the fabulous library again, I must see if this response arrives. If it does, and the date has not been changed, we will need to be ready tomorrow."

"Very well, I'll go get the genealogical information we need, and be back within a couple hours."

Half an hour later Catherine was walking down the dimly lit corridor of the library, anticipating its beauty upon reaching the door frame. It was just as breath-taking as she had remembered it. Immediately she looked to the far wall where she last saw Milo Seanehan.

He was seated in the old chair reading, looking much as he had the first time Catherine had visited. She called out to him in a searching whisper, "Monsieur Seanehan..." The man looked up.

"Mamselle Yorkshire, welcome back," he spoke gently, rising as he did so. Catherine smiled and moved toward him. Mr. Seanehan met her halfway across the floor. Catherine was about to speak to him, but another voice called from above her.

"Lady Yorkshire!"

Catherine looked up in the direction of the masculine voice she had heard. It sounded vaguely familiar.

She looked just in time to see Anthony Dewhurst climbing down the southwest stairs. Her insides gave a small flutter. What could he be doing here? 'His own genealogy of course,' Catherine reprimanded her stupidity.

"You know Lord Dewhurst, I presume?" Mr. Seanehan's voice inquired in his soft, gentle brogue.

"Yes, I have had the honour of his acquaintance," Catherine smiled, turning to Lord Tony as he approached them.

"Why my dear lady, I hardly expected to find you here this afternoon." He smiled graciously, "Will you let me keep company with you?"

Catherine fought the blush that rose at her neck. "Of course, milord." She turned to Mr. Seanehan. "Have you a lantern I may borrow yet again, Monsieur?"

"I believe milord already has one, mamselle. Will you be requiring another?" asked Mr. Seanehan.

Catherine felt certain she blushed that time. Why wasn't she thinking straight? "I suppose not, monsieur."

Milo Seanehan went back to his book, and Lord Tony escorted a flustered Catherine to the staircase. "I expect you are doing family research as well?" Lord Tony initiated the conversation.

"Why yes, Lord Anthony, you've found me out," Catherine quipped lamely.

Lord Tony however, did not seem to note her lack of characteristic wit. "Please call me Tony, Lady Catherine, I'll respond to no other name from your lips."

Faced with the painful concept of a silent fifteen minutes or more, Catherine relented. "Very well then...Tony," Catherine practically choked. He gave her an encouraging smile. "...but you must call me Catherine, or I'll not keep my end of the bargain."

Tony smiled again, but this was a smile of fond resignation. "If you insist Catherine. Now, can I help you find a volume?"

"Oh no, I can manage...thank you Tony." Catherine watched him glow like a schoolboy at the sound of his pet name.

A sudden thought struck Catherine. Tony was often in the company of Percy Blakeney. Perhaps he would know why there had been no response to their letter. Tony had begun to move away to another shelf, and before she could stop herself Catherine called out, "Lord Tony!"

He ignored her. Peeved, Catherine sighed, "Oh Tony, for God's sake!"

Tony turned and grinned like an imp. Catherine told him as much, then asked, "Tony, have you seen Sir Percy Blakeney of late?"

His mouth opened and for a moment no sound came out. An oddly reserved expression cloaked his habitually open countenance. "Not...lately milady. Do you have need of him?"

"Milady? Lud, Tony what has come over you? I merely wondered why he had not responded to my invitation to tea Cayliegh and I sent four days ago."

Tony relaxed a little, but he did not seem his usual, jovial self. "Well, Catherine...I'm not certain. Should I inquire after him for you?"

Catherine narrowed her eyes, set her head at an angle, and pouted prettily before responding. "I would appreciate it Tony, if it would not trouble you to do so." Her voice was formal, with a slight edge on the word "if".

Suddenly Tony looked very tired. He passed a hand over his eyes before sighing unhappily, "Of course it is no trouble. Honestly, Catherine, I'd fetch you the moon if I could."

Utterly surprised by the appearance of such sentiment, Catherine dropped her act. Concern knitted her delicate brows, and a strange feeling down her spine urged her to move closer to him. "Tony..."

He looked up at her, gentle lines of care writ across his features. Catherine allowed herself to gaze into those sea-green eyes. What could be tormenting him so? Was it anything to do with Sir Percy? "Tony are well?" she whispered, "because you look as though...something is burdening you."

Tony stared back into her glistening, dark eyes. Before he could think his hand moved to her chin. "It will soon put itself to right, Catherine." She looked softly at him. His hand fell back to his side, saying, "I apologize, for I must quit your company for the time being. I shall make a personal visit to Sir Percy's manor later this afternoon. Good evening, Catherine."

"Good evening...Tony..." There was a question in Catherine's tone as he bowed, then turned on his heel without a further word.