Page 1 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

brANTON, LANCASHIRE: MARCH

M iss Katherine Parish waited in the hall, bonnet and pelisse on, her gloves and reticule beside her. At her feet were the two boxes of personal effects she was permitted to keep. She sat on the elderly wooden settle since it was fixed to the wall, and might therefore escape the attentions of the bailiffs. Nothing else escaped their notice. The silver was the first to go, and the paintings from the drawing room and dining room. Then the good furniture — the escritoire, Papa’s desk, the pretty lacquered console table. She had closed her eyes when her pianoforte had been carried past. In the last hour or so, it had been boxes of books, the contents of the linen closet and the big copper pans from the kitchen. Soon their attention would be drawn to the smaller items, like the plain wooden chairs from the servants’ rooms and the rows of preserves in the larder.

The afternoon wore on, and even the bailiffs began to slow down. But then, on the road outside, were the sounds of a carriage arriving, slowing, then stopping. Her uncle, at last.

He strode into the hall, the skirts of his greatcoat flying, another younger man behind him. Katherine jumped to her feet.

“Katherine! My dear girl, what are you doing here, watching all this? And alone — is there no one who could have sat with you? Where is your maid?”

“She had another position arranged, so I let her go first thing this morning.”

“But have you no friends who could have borne you company?”

“Some offered, but I did not wish it,” she said quietly. “No one else should witness our disgrace.”

“My dear girl!” he said again, wrapping her in an embrace so tight that her nose was pressed against the damp wool of his greatcoat, her bonnet sent askew. “My poor niece! How dreadful for you! Oh… you remember James, of course. He has grown a little since you last saw him.”

“I should hope I have, Father! I could not have been more than four or five when last Cousin Kate saw me.”

Katherine straightened her bonnet and dipped a curtsy. “Cousin James.”

She had a vague memory of a scruffy and nondescript little boy, bigger than her despite their similar age, who had pushed her about unmercifully. He had grown into a well-looking man, only a little taller than she was, and not at all scruffy. Like his father, he looked like a country gentleman, a well-dressed one with a good tailor and an efficient valet.

A footman in livery came in, and he and James manhandled the boxes out through the front door. Katherine donned her gloves and picked up her reticule.

“Are you ready to leave?” Uncle Cathcart said gently. “Is there anything you need to do? Any farewells to make?”

“I have made all my farewells. I am ready, uncle.”

“Then let us go. I shall be glad to leave this smoky town behind. So many great, tall chimneys! You will be astonished how much cleaner you will find the air at your new home, my dear.”

He offered her his arm and she rested one hand on it. There were times when the support of a man’s arm was no more than a courtesy, but today her knees trembled so much that she was glad of it. Head lowered, she walked slowly beside her uncle, out through the door of the home she had lived in all her life.

A great crowd had gathered on the street. Some, no doubt, were drawn to the spectacle of the bailiffs’ wagons filling up, but many women held handkerchiefs to their eyes, and the men were grim-faced. She recognised them from the mill, men who had lost their livelihoods now, but bore no resentment. They knew her father had been doing his best for them, and it was not his fault he had died when he had just borrowed a great deal of money to install the huge beam engine.

“God bless you, Miss!” someone called out, and many others took up the refrain. Several women rushed out from the crowd, sobbing, to hug her fiercely. Clusters of children looked on, wide-eyed and silent, taking it all in. Her Sunday school children, she realised. Who would teach them their letters now?

A little way down the street, beyond the bailiffs’ wagons, sat the Cathcarts’ carriage, a fine equipage drawn by two pairs of post horses, the postilions waiting patiently. The door was held open by the footman, and her uncle handed Katherine in, then went to supervise the arrangements for her luggage to be strapped on. Outside, the crowd on the street moved to surround the carriage, waving handkerchiefs at her. Hesitantly, she waved back, and someone shouted out, “Three cheers for Miss Parish!” and the whole crowd set to whooping and cheering. Katherine blushed and blushed again, hanging her head low in embarrassment, but they seemed disinclined to stop.

Her uncle appeared at the door. “Other seat, my dear. Ladies always ride forwards. James, do you sit opposite. There now, I think we are ready.”

He climbed in to sit beside Katherine, the footman closed the door and set the carriage swaying as he climbed up behind. Then the postilions called to the horses, the crowd cheered again and the carriage lurched into motion, moving slowly off down the street. Katherine did not look back. What was the point? She would never forget the house as long as she lived, and she did not want to have a single memory of it as it was today, with everything dear and familiar loaded onto the bailiffs’ wagons. Better to remember it as it had been… when Papa was alive, or better still, when Mama was alive, too, and her brother Harold, and they had been just another mill owner’s family, slowly rising to prosperity.

Debt and disgrace were best forgotten.

***

T hey travelled only two stages that day, as far as Skipton, where rooms were already reserved for them at the Black Horse, and Mr Cathcart’s very grand valet waited. Katherine had never stayed at an inn before, but her uncle made everything easy for her, and paid for a maid to help her dress and undress, and to sleep in her room at night.

“Just in case,” he said.

“In case of what?” she said.

“Well… should anything occur during the night,” he said vaguely.

Nothing did occur, except that coaches came and went at all hours, seemingly, with great noise and bustle and confusion in the yard below. In the quiet spells, the walls and roof and even under the floorboards were alive with scratchings and patterings and odd little muffled squeaks.

The second day was longer, four stages, and a lengthy delay at Boroughbridge, where there were not horses enough. At first, they waited for some to arrive, but after some discussion with the ostlers, they went on with only a pair. At Thirsk, they were able to get two pairs again, and got on a little better.

Having not slept the night before, Katherine dozed on this early part of the journey, although every lurch of the carriage or the rumble of a passing farmer’s wagon or remark by her uncle or cousin brought her jerking awake again. After Thirsk, the scenery became more interesting as they came into the hills of the North Riding. She had never been so far afield before, so she peered out of the window with great interest, but neither the hills nor the small villages they passed through were wildly different from Lancashire.

At Helmsley they made their last stop, collecting Uncle Cathcart’s own horses and coachman for the final climb to her new home. Cathcart House. Katherine had no idea what she would find there. Uncle Cathcart was a gentleman, so it would be a gentleman’s house, but what would that mean? The largest houses she had seen were on the hill at Branton, and the largest of those was the Ridwells’ fine house, but Mr Ridwell was only a mill owner like Papa. He was not a gentleman. There were proper gentlemen’s houses on the outskirts of Branton, but they were all hidden behind high walls or hedges, and she had never seen them, let alone been inside one.

The horses strained up a long hill, turning this way and that, before the road levelled off somewhat. There was not much to see. They passed gateposts or smaller roads, but with no sign of any habitation. Trees closed in beside the road, then became fields, then more trees. Once or twice a vista opened up to one side, as if they were overlooking a deep valley, but the trees pressed close again before Katherine could examine the view. She supposed she would have many opportunities to travel this road in future, for the family went often to Helmsley for the shops, James told her.

“Here we are,” Uncle Cathcart said, as they turned in through two neat brick gateposts.

The horses put on a little burst of speed, aware that they were almost home. The drive was short, and in a moment they were turning, the carriage slowing and then stopping. The footman on the back of the carriage hopped down and opened the door, and they all descended.

Katherine looked up at the house — her new home. It was rather plain, apart from a small portico at the front door and a tiny amount of decoration above the windows. But no statuary anywhere, nothing ornate or overwhelmingly grand, and it was not even as large as the Ridwells’ house, although longer than it was tall, with three storeys only in the middle section.

But there was no time to take it all in, for the front door opened and people poured out. So many! Her aunt, sister to Mama and just a little like her, beaming and rushing down the steps, arms wide to embrace her. Two young men, Alex and Neil, at eighteen well grown and handsome, not quite identical but very alike. And the three daughters, Aveline, nineteen, Susan and Lucinda still in the schoolroom. Aveline she recalled only slightly as a rather stout child. Now she was an elegant young lady, eyeing Katherine up expressionlessly. At only a year younger than Katherine, they would be expected to be friends, no doubt. A friend! Something like a sister, perhaps. How odd that would be.

Wrapped in her aunt’s soft embrace, with many kind voices expressing their welcome, Katherine felt the strangeness of it all. Having been herself an only daughter, and for many years now an only child, she was unaccustomed to being part of a large family. Six children not yet fully grown, and so many servants to look after them! Footmen and maids poured out to help with luggage, and a butler and housekeeper stood on the steps overseeing the activity.

Now the younger girls took an arm each and towed Katherine up the steps and into the house, while their mother remonstrated ineffectually with them.

“Girls! Girls! Do give Katherine a little room to breathe. Think how tired she must be after her long journey! Susan, Lucinda, do not tug her arms quite out of their sockets. There now, my dear, let me look at you. Ah, you look so pale, but that is your mourning clothes, of course. Such a draining colour, black, I always say. But it is some time since your dear papa passed away, so perhaps we shall persuade you into half mourning soon.”

“It is only three months, aunt.”

“Well, true, but that is long enough for so young a girl, and you will be going into a very different society now, my dear.”

Katherine felt the now familiar spasm of terror at these words. When her aunt had written to her, just after Papa’s death, and offered her a home, she had mentioned society and balls and finding a husband. Katherine had existed quite happily without such things for all of her twenty years. She had plenty to do at home, or at the mill, or amongst their workers’ families, and then there was church to keep her busy. There were occasional evening engagements with their friends, and sometimes a riotous assembly at one of the inns, but a ball! What would she find to do at a ball? She had never participated in a formal dance in her life.

Susan and Lucinda towed her on, up the stairs and then up again, into a pleasant bedroom, plainly but expensively furnished, everything solid wood and polished to a high shine. There were windows on two sides, with a view over tidy flowerbeds from one, and trees and shrubs from the other. She was relieved to discover that she was not to share a room with Aveline. Her aunt chased her daughters out of the room and helped Katherine remove her bonnet and pelisse.

“Well, these are very suitable for travelling,” she said, holding them up to examine them more closely. “Excellent stitchwork! You must have had a talented seamstress in Branton.”

“I make all my clothes myself, aunt.”

Her aunt stared at her. “Goodness me! Well, you will not need to do so any more. Ah, here are your boxes. Just the two? And here is Jenny, who will look after you… acting as your lady’s maid… taking care of your clothes and so forth. I suppose you have never had a proper lady’s maid before.”

“Well, I—”

“Jenny looks after Susan and Lucinda, but she can easily accommodate you as well. Now, which box holds your evening gowns? This one? Unpack this first, Jenny. I need to see if you have anything suitable for Tuesday.”

“Tuesday, aunt?”

“We are to dine at the Castle. Corland Castle, with the Earl of Rennington and his family, so you will need something… well, not so plain as your travelling gown.”

The Earl of Rennington! Katherine’s horror must have shown on her face, for her aunt laughed, and said, “Now, now, child, you have nothing to fear from the Athertons. They are very grand, of course, and live in a style we can only dream of, but you will find them not at all high in the instep. We dine with them half a dozen times a year, and sometimes they condescend to dine with us, and we always enjoy a very pleasant evening.”

“Must I go? I do not know them, so—”

“Naturally you must go. You are included in the invitation. Lady Rennington is always most particular about such things. She wrote that if you had arrived by Tuesday, then she would be delighted to welcome you to Corland Castle. So you have nothing to worry about. Well, you have not many dresses, have you? We shall have to increase your wardrobe quite substantially. Ah, lay the blue one on the bed, Jenny. Now, let me see… Hmm, it is excessively plain for an evening gown.”

“Aunt, I cannot wear colours! I have a black evening gown if I must go, but I should much sooner not. Indeed, I never expected to be treated like my cousins. It would be inappropriate for me to set myself up as a lady of fashion, like them. Plain gowns are very suitable for my station, and I shall be happy to make myself useful to you, in the kitchen or still room, perhaps, running errands, helping the governess… That is my place, surely. It is what I am used to.”

Aunt Cathcart sat down on the bed, drew Katherine down beside her and took her in her arms for a long hug. “My dear Katherine, you are my niece, and my sister’s only surviving child. The very idea that we would treat you as some kind of unpaid servant! Whatever you may have been obliged to do at Branton no longer applies. Your father may have left you in poverty, but your uncle is to settle a little money on you — No, no, do not protest, for he is quite resolved upon it, and we are agreed that we will treat you exactly the same as our own daughters. You will have your own pin money, and naturally you must wear suitable clothes. You would not wish to shame us by appearing less well dressed than your cousins, surely? What would our friends say if we appear to neglect you in that way? You need not be a lady of fashion if you dislike the idea, but you must be a lady of quality , Katherine. Above all else, you must be a lady, and there is no need to mention your father’s mill. No need at all.”

“There is no mill to mention, not any more,” Katherine said sadly. “But what shall I do with myself all day if I may not help with the domestic duties? What does Cousin Aveline do?”

“Why, I hardly know, but she manages to fill her days. Embroidery… every lady must have a piece of embroidery in progress. She paints, too. Her watercolours are greatly admired. We make and receive calls, of course. She rides, sometimes, and… well, she finds plenty to do. If you like, you may sit with Susan and Lucinda and listen to Miss Harkness. She teaches French and Italian, as well as music, drawing and the usual things. That will help to fill in any gaps in your education, you know, for if you have been busy making clothes and mixing pastry, I am sure you have not been keeping up with your lessons.”

“You have a pianoforte? May I practise?”

“Certainly, my dear. That is a very ladylike accomplishment. Most suitable. Yes, you may practise on the pianoforte as much as you like.”

Well, that was something to be grateful for. There had never been enough time for music at Branton, but now she could play as much as she wished.

***

T he next morning, Katherine rose at her usual time. She had been warned that the family would not emerge from their bedrooms until breakfast at ten o’clock, so she recited the morning prayers, as she continued to do even without Papa, and then wrote letters to several friends in Branton who would be anxiously awaiting news of her safe arrival. She filled the rest of the time by reading soothing passages from the Bible.

Breakfast was like dinner the previous evening, the table groaning with food, of which only a small amount was eaten. The waste shocked Katherine, but she supposed a gentleman had to live in a higher style than a mill owner. No one at Branton would think to offer such an excess of food. She was even more shocked that no one said grace, either before or after the meal. What sort of Christian family would not give thanks for their meal, especially with such abundance placed before them? It was not her place to criticise, however, so she made a small prayer in her head before she began to eat.

“Mama, may we take Katherine to Birchall this morning?” Susan asked. “She will want to see all the shops.”

“What an excellent idea,” Aunt Cathcart said. “When you return, Katherine, I shall have an embroidery project for you to begin work on. I have a spare hoop somewhere.”

Katherine had no great desire for shopping, or embroidery either, and would much rather have spent the morning at the instrument, but she did not like to be unsociable. Shortly after eleven, therefore, she awaited Aveline, Susan and Lucinda at the foot of the stairs. The first person to appear was a thin-faced woman of around thirty, as plainly dressed as Katherine was.

“Good morning, madam,” she said, dipping a curtsy. “I am Miss Harkness. The governess.”

“Yes,” Katherine whispered. Never having had a governess, she was not at all sure how to address one. “How do you do? I am Katherine Parish.”

The governess gave a little smile. “I know who you are, Miss Parish. I hope you will be very happy at Cathcart House, despite the sad reasons for your move here. Ah, here are the girls now. Come, ladies, let us be off before the day is half gone.”

Birchall village was only a mile away, by way of the gardens and some pretty woodland, the bluebells just showing through but not yet in flower. The village was just like a thousand other villages, being no more than one main street with a few short side roads lined with cottages and a scattering of more substantial houses. A few people walking about stared openly at them, making Katherine feel very uncomfortable.

The Cathcart girls instantly ran off to a haberdashery, which seemed to be a focus for several other young ladies, but Katherine looked longingly at the church.

“Would you mind if I were to sit in the church for a while?” she said to Miss Harkness.

“By all means, Miss Parish. There are some fine memorials in St Timothy’s, and the rood screen is much admired.”

The chilly air inside the church made Katherine shiver, but it was still preferable to being stared at, or jostled in the busy haberdashery. Above all, she wanted quietude, and the church brought her a welcome sense of peace, with its familiar smells of damp wool, dust and candle smoke, and the echo from its high roof as her booted feet tap-tapped up the aisle. She found the Cathcart pew, one of the better ones, and sat there letting her thoughts wander. She was grateful to her uncle and aunt, naturally, and they were very kind, but oh, how she missed Branton and the familiarity of home. Everything here was strange. She would make friends in time, she knew that, but just at that moment, she felt quite alone.

Behind her, the door creaked open, and someone entered quietly, staying near the door. A few moments later, someone else came in and she heard low voices murmuring. Little of it was audible, but she caught ‘thirty barrels’ and ‘is that all?’ and something about storms at sea. Then, a sudden exclamation, and she heard footsteps approaching.

A man peered over the pew wall at her, a man not much older than she was herself, slender and with a smiling face surrounded by gentle curls.

“Good morning to you, madam, and an excellent morning it is, too.”

His eyes twinkled with such good humour that she could not be afraid of him. “Is it?”

“Why, indeed it is, for it is not raining, which is sufficient in itself to qualify as an excellent morning. Also, my brother has been shooting, and I am promised duck for dinner. I am excessively fond of duck.”

That made her smile.

“Ah. And I have brought a smile to your face, which makes the morning even better. How do you do, madam? Kent Atherton at your service.”

Kent Atherton! One of the Earl of Rennington’s family. She need not fear the evening at Corland Castle so much if this cheerful and friendly man was there.

“Katherine Parish. Miss… Parish.”

“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Parish, quite delighted! I hope we shall meet again very often, so that I may have more opportunities to make you smile. You looked so sad when I first saw you, and since you wear black, you have reason to be sad, but is there not still so much in this world to be enjoyed? Every day brings us some new delight to beguile the eye or the ear, or even the tongue. You see, I am thinking of my duck again. May you find some small ray of hope every day to enchant you and relieve your sadness for a while. And one day, I very much hope that you will not be sad at all.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And now, I must not disturb your contemplation any longer. Good day to you, Miss Parish.”

“Good day, sir. Enjoy your duck.”

He grinned. “I shall! I most certainly shall.”

And then he was gone, leaving her smiling and cheerful. What a charming man! She felt a delightful warmth inside, which stayed with her until she heard Aveline’s voice behind her.

“There you are, cousin! What are you doing hiding away in here? Come on, there are new bonnets at Miss Prinkley’s.”

Katherine rose obediently and followed her from the church.