A Stranger at Castonbury - By Amanda McCabe Page 0,31
She watched as Mrs Stratton slid a framed image from behind a pair of porcelain shepherdesses and brushed it off. Catalina was startled to see that it was a copy of the same pastel portrait that Jamie carried with him in Spain. His two sisters smiling out of the image with their grey Montague eyes.
Mrs Stratton seemed to notice Catalina staring at it, for she said, ‘They are very pretty girls, are they not?’
Catalina swallowed before she could answer. ‘Very pretty.’
‘Lady Kate and Lady Phaedra. Lady Kate is in Boston now with her new husband, but you will meet Lady Phaedra and her husband, Bram. She is usually outdoors with her horses, but she does manage to make it to family dinners, especially now.’ Mrs Stratton laughed.
‘I am sure Miss Westman will greatly enjoy meeting her,’ Catalina answered. ‘She does love animals, but there is seldom a chance for her to spend time with them in London.’
‘You yourself are Spanish, are you not, Mrs Moreno?’
‘Yes, I am. My family was from Seville.’
‘Have you been in London long?’
‘A while now. But sometimes it feels a lot longer,’ Catalina said with a smile. ‘I have been in the country these past few weeks with Lydia, very isolated.’
‘If you feel homesick, there will be plenty of people here to talk about Spain with, Mrs Moreno. I dare say they would appreciate the chance to talk about their travels as well.’ The small clock on the mantel chimed and Mrs Stratton gave it a startled glance. ‘Oh, dear! Is that the time? You must excuse me. There is so much to see to before dinner. I will have a tea tray sent to you right away.’
Once the housekeeper was gone, Catalina wearily untied her bonnet and laid it aside with her gloves. She sat down on the window seat and peered out at the garden below. It was green and pretty, rolling down to a line of trees and dotted with marble benches and statues. Gardeners were scurrying between the flower beds, as if to make it all even more beautiful for the wedding.
It was all so much as she had imagined it when Jamie would tell her about this house. Green and classical, the perfect place for rambling walks and picnics. Casual and elegant at the same time, so different from the highly regimented gardens she was used to in Spain.
As she watched, a figure suddenly appeared atop a low rise beyond the dip of the ha-ha. It was too far for her to see his features, and he had a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his brow. But he was tall and lean, his athletic figure clad in a long, dark jacket. He held a walking stick in one hand. For an instant, with the sunlight behind him, Catalina thought it was Jamie and she couldn’t breathe.
He paused to peer out over the gardens, perfectly still, and Catalina dared not move. She knew it was an illusion, that the man must merely be one of Jamie’s brothers or another guest, but ever since she had come through the Castonbury gates she had felt strangely near to him. She wanted to hold on to that for just a moment longer, and imagine what he was like here.
Then the man walked down the hill, his gait slightly uneven though he barely used the stick. He vanished around the side of the house and out of her sight, and the brief dream was shattered. Jamie, the good and the bad of their time together, was gone.
Catalina closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She wished this wedding would be over very quickly indeed. It was obvious she needed to escape from Castonbury before she went mad.
Chapter Eight
‘Are you sure my gown is quite right, Mrs Moreno?’ Lydia whispered as they made their way down the staircase.
Catalina gave her a reassuring smile. ‘You look lovely,’ she said truthfully. Lydia looked like a blooming summer rose in her pale pink muslin, with pink and white ribbons twined in her shining curls. Catalina could scarcely remember ever being so young and fresh, so eager to see what life held next. She had felt like an old lady for so long. Too long.
She caught a glimpse of herself as they passed an antique looking glass on the wall, and for an instant she thought she was a ghost in her grey taffeta gown, her hair twisted back in a plain