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asked.
    “London. That’s what I had come to tell you when I found you in the bathroom.”
    “Why?”
    “Because he asked me to,” Rose said as she came over and eyed the tea and toast. “There’s a good girl. You don’t eat enough which is probably why you’re having bad dreams.” According to Rose, most every illness was brought about from a lack of nourishment, and practically everything could be cured with a healthy dose of castor oil.
    “No, why is he going to London?” Catie clarified.
    “Business, I assume, Catherine. Isn’t that normally why?”
    “I suppose.” Catie sat quietly for a minute. She had hoped to ask Ben about Rosings Park, but Rose was almost as knowledgeable of her family history as her brother was. “Nan, do you remember the story Daddy used to tell me about Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy?”
    “I think I remember it. Why?”
    “Whatever happened to Lady Catherine, the aunt who lived at Rosings Park?”
    Rose gave her a sidelong look as she pulled the curtains fully back, letting a rush of brilliant light pour into the room. Catie had fixed the panel on the window casement where she found Mary’s diary as best she could, but with Rose’s keen eye, she held her breath to see if the woman noticed. Rose, however, seemed more interested in changing the subject. “I can’t say as I know for sure, Catie. You will have to ask your brother.”
    Catie sighed. It was the answer she had expected. “Rose.” She hid a grin behind her teacup, suddenly remembering another curious piece from her dream. “Were you in love with my daddy?”
    * * *
    Since Ben wasn’t to return home until the weekend, Catie would have to wait to discover the meaning behind Mary Darcy’s entry. Rose had rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation at Catie’s last question. Still, she had to wonder whether her youthful insight hadn’t been somewhat correct.
    It was approaching three, and Catie was changing into her riding breeches when her telephone rang. Glancing at her clock, she considered not answering it, but thinking it was most likely Audrey Tillman, she decided to make it quick. “Hello.”
    “Catie?” said an unfamiliar male voice. “Is this Catie Darcy?”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “This is Aiden . . . Aiden Hirst. Remember me?” Catie hesitated. “London, last spring, you came to a party at my house in Holland Park.”
    “Oh, yes!” She remembered now. The party in Holland Park; the party she had attended after telling Ben she was going to the cinema with Jenna Makepeace. Catie hadn’t deliberately planned the deception. She had honestly believed they were going to the pictures, but Jenna had gotten word of the party and begged Catie to go with her.
    Sounding pleased, Aiden continued, “I was ringing to see when you were coming to London this summer. I thought we might see each other.”
    “I don’t know if I am, Aiden.” Catie twisted the cord around her fingers. “I...I thought you and Jenna Makepeace were . . . you know . . . ”
    “Oh, that’s ancient history. Where have you been?” He laughed.
    “Derbyshire . . . where else?” she replied glumly. Yes, where else for sure .
    “Well, maybe I’ll just come out to the country. My uncle and aunt live in Matlock. Can I . . . ” he paused, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Can I pop ’round to Pemberley if I do? I’d like to see you.”
    Catie grimaced, feeling her cheeks color even though she was alone, but she might as well be honest. “Aiden, I couldn’t say.” This was true. She’d never had a boy ask if he could “pop ’round” before. But she knew Bennet Darcy all too well. “My . . . it’s just, my brother. He’s . . . well, he’s sort of a traditionalist. I think you would need to speak to him first. I’m sorry, I know it’s archaic. Please don’t laugh.”
    “Not a chuckle,” he said. “My dad grew up in Derbyshire, and I happen to appreciate old-fashioned country manners. If I had a sister,