Page 11 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

A long string of carriages snaked up the drive to Corland Castle. The Cathcart conveyance stopped in its turn and disgorged its occupants. Katherine followed the others across the bridge and into the entrance hall, lit up as bright as day with hundreds of candles. There they were greeted by the earl, Lady Alice and Lady Olivia.

“So glad you could come after all, Miss Parish,” the earl murmured.

“Thank you,” Katherine whispered. “So glad to be here.”

Then, with a great press of people following behind them, they moved on, the ladies to one ante-chamber to deposit their cloaks, and the gentlemen to another to leave their hats. On again to the great hall with its high glass roof, already busy with chattering groups, the ladies’ gowns shimmering as they moved, jewelled bracelets sparkling in the candlelight with every gesture.

Aunt Cathcart and Aveline whisked off to greet friends at once, but Katherine took a moment to look around. At her first visit to Corland Castle not long after her arrival, she had been overwhelmed by the scale of the place, the great branching staircase, the massive chandelier suspended on a long chain from the roof and the walls covered with a multitude of fearsome weaponry. It was an appropriate home for an earl descended from a long line of earls and barons stretching back to the middle ages, men loyal to long dead kings, wielding those great swords with determination against equally ferocious opponents.

Now she could look around and see the castle as the backdrop it was, like the scenery on a stage. People did the same in Branton, like Mr Ridwell, whose vast new house proclaimed him a man of great wealth, if not much taste. Katherine’s own home had been less ostentatious, but each item of furniture, every picture or clock or carpet, had been carefully chosen by her mother with her impeccable sense of style.

At Corland, there was a great sense of history. Even the staircase was adorned with a dull display of armour and weapons, although she admired the two large urns in the Chinese style that flanked them. Elsewhere, however, the furnishings were modern, both tasteful and elegant, the rooms decorated in a pleasingly restrained manner. She could see it now as a home as well as a statement of wealth and power.

There was another difference, too, between her first visit and this one. Then, she had known no one but the Cathcarts, and even they were new to her. Elsewhere there was only a sea of unknown faces. Now, she recognised many of those pouring into the great hall. Near the stairs was pleasant Sir Hubert Strong, the magistrate, and some of his family. By the door to the gallery was the imperious Lady Esther Franklyn and her fashionable husband. Near the dining room was sweet Mrs George Atherton, fussing over her daughters’ shawls in case there may be the least draught. Emily waved cheerfully to Katherine. And over there was Mr Walter Atherton, and beside him—

Her heart jumped painfully, for there he was, Mr Kent Atherton, looking impossibly fine in his well fitted evening attire. He had not the muscular build of his brother, but she thought she preferred Kent’s slender good looks. His shoulders were broad enough, his waist narrow enough, his calves shapely enough, without the overpowering masculinity that some men had that made her wilt like a plucked bluebell in its presence. Kent was reassuringly male, but not intimidating, even to someone as shy in company as Katherine.

He looked across the room, he saw her and his face lit up in that warm smile that instantly had her insides turning somersaults. She blushed, of course, because she always blushed, but she no longer lowered her gaze as if turning away from him. She wanted to look at him, to watch what he did, to glory in the fact that, after a quick word to his brother, he ploughed through the crowds straight to her side.

“Miss Parish! Now the evening is set fair, with your presence. And how delightful you look! That is a new gown, I think. I have not seen you in anything quite so becoming before.”

That made her blush even more — what a charming compliment! But she thanked him very composedly. Before she could say another word, Aveline materialised at her side.

“Why, Mr Atherton! There you are! Where have you been hiding, for I could not see you at all at first?”

“Not hiding, Miss Cathcart, merely standing beside my brother Walter. No one notices me when he is in the room.”

He grinned widely at her to signal the jest, but she took him seriously.

“There you are quite wrong, sir,” she said archly, tapping him with her fan.

“No, no!” he protested. “He is a great handsome fellow, and casts me quite into the shade. Now, if I were a fashionable fribble, and wore shirt points high enough and sharp enough to put an eye out with an unwary move, and dazzled the room with a dozen fobs at my waist and a diamond pin in my cravat, why then I might attract attention, but for myself, I eschew all such ostentation. I prefer simplicity in all things, Miss Cathcart, that is my watchword.”

“Oh, indeed, and so do I,” she cried, quite oblivious to the frills and flounces and multitude of ornamentation on her dress. “Simplicity is always preferred to… to…”

“Ostentation,” he said, with a twitch of his lips. “Then we are of one mind. How splendid! What a wonderful world it would be if every two people were so admirably in accord. Why, there would be no arguments, no discussions… in fact, one might dispense with conversation altogether. You brighten my life immensely, Miss Cathcart.”

“Why, thank you, sir!” she trilled happily. “Oh look, the earl and his ladies are joining us. That must mean dinner will soon be served. How glad I shall be to sit down and enjoy the meal. You have a very good cook here, Mr Atherton.”

She rested one hand on his arm, quite casually, as if completely unaware of it, but in effect claiming him as her dinner companion. Katherine saw it, but was helpless to intervene. How would he react? Would he feel obliged to lead her into dinner?

He looked down at the offending hand, his face puzzled. “Dear me! Are you unwell, Miss Cathcart?”

“Unwell? Why, no, never better, sir. Why should you think otherwise?”

“You grabbed my arm so suddenly I was concerned that you might be feeling faint. Miss Parish, have you any smelling salts about you? I believe they might aid Miss Cathcart at this moment.”

“Yes, indeed I do,” she said, reaching into her reticule. “They are very efficacious.”

Angrily, Aveline withdrew her hand. “Do not concern yourself, cousin. I am perfectly well and have no need for your smelling salts.”

“What a relief!” Kent said cheerfully. “Ah, there is Simpson now. It is time for dinner. Miss Parish, may I escort you into the dining room?”

Aveline glowered even more. “Why are you taking Katherine in? Would you not prefer to sit with someone you can talk to?”

“An interesting question, Miss Cathcart. Who did you have in mind as a more entertaining dinner companion for me?”

He tipped his head on one side enquiringly. Katherine waited to see if Aveline was brash enough to respond in the obvious way. Surely she had a modicum of restraint that would prevent her from putting herself forward?

With a giggle, she lowered her head with seeming demureness. “I am sure you can think of someone, sir.”

“Indeed, I assure you I cannot.”

“Well… I do not like to… but you know Katherine never talks at all in company, so it is of no consequence who she sits beside. Whereas I… I do not like to boast, but I can converse very readily.”

“What a happy talent to have! And on what subject would you entertain me?” he said, still smiling.

“Oh… anything you like. What would you like to talk about?” The hand made its way onto his arm again, seeing success within sight.

“The Oystermouth Railway,” he said at once.

“What? What on earth do you imagine I know about that?”

“Nothing, I should suppose, and nor do I, but Miss Parish does, and she has promised to tell me all about it this evening.” Gently detaching Aveline’s hand and ignoring her chagrin, he held out his arm to Katherine. “Shall we, Miss Parish? You had better make haste, Miss Cathcart, for most of the ladies have already gone in.”

She scuttled away, scowling, while Kent murmured, “I should not tease her, I suppose. She is a good sort of girl, even if she knows nothing about the Oystermouth Railway.”

Katherine quite agreed that even Aveline, trying as she was, did not deserve to be teased, and recognised that her own satisfaction in this small triumph over her cousin was equally reprehensible. Yet somehow, these thoughts did not cast her down as they might otherwise have done. Later, perhaps, she would consider the matter more fully, but for now all she could think about was that she was to dine beside the man she loved with all her heart. Two hours of his company, perhaps, and not jostled about on horseback, but sitting in comfort beside him, just as if they were true friends… or more than friends. It was a boon too overwhelming for words.

She took his arm, glowing inside to be chosen by him above Aveline… above all other ladies! It was astonishing, but she was not so foolish as to be carried away with unrealistic hopes. His interest was still on machinery, and her greater knowledge of such things. But that did not matter. She would tell him about the Oystermouth Railway, and for an hour or two she would have his undivided attention, and enough memories to warm her through many a dark hour in the future when he was not with her.

They had not taken two steps towards the dining room, and were almost the last to make their way there, when the earl emerged, a frown on his face which lifted when he saw them.

“Well done, Kent. I was just coming to find Miss Parish. Will you honour me with your company at dinner this evening, madam? You have been a part of the neighbourhood for some months now and I should like to become better acquainted with you.”

Katherine hardly knew how to respond to this. One could scarcely refuse an earl, naturally, but she had so looked forward to sitting beside Kent. She threw him a desperate glance, but it was the earl who rescued her.

“Yes, yes, Kent may sit on your other side, you know, and between the two of us, we shall look after you very well, you may be sure.”

Thus it was that Katherine found herself, to her own amazement and that of the watching Cathcarts, led to the far end of the table, to sit at the left hand of the earl himself, with Kent on her other side. Aveline glowered at her from her position in the middle of the table, but James, a little nearer, beamed at her and waved encouragingly.

Katherine hardly knew what she ate or drank that night. All she was aware of was Kent beside her, his arm only inches from her own, for the dining table was crowded rather, his eyes gazing into hers with an intensity that left her breathless. Always his wide smile and cheerful demeanour lifted her spirits, but this was something more, something almost ecstatic inside her, welling up like a spring, pulsing pure happiness through her veins.

Sometimes the earl drew her attention, to offer her some choice dish, or to ask her a question, but she could not say that she acquitted herself very well. With the son, the words poured out of her unstoppably, without the slightest effort, but with his father, she stuttered and hesitated and mumbled, reduced sometimes to monosyllabic answers.

It was frustrating, for her as much as for the earl, but she could find no point of contact with him. Where Kent asked her about Branton and mills and all the familiar sights of home, the earl questioned her on balls and gowns and horses, none of which subjects fired her with enthusiasm. At one point, he touched on music and she grew temporarily loquacious, but after determining that he could not distinguish Bach from Mozart, she fell back, defeated.

And if he could find no subject of interest to her, she could think of none for him. Whatever did earls think about or worry about? She dared not talk about politics, for he was bound to be of a different persuasion from her father and his friends, and she knew nothing about estate management or riding to hounds or the sports prevailing amongst the aristocracy. The only time she raised a response from him was when she asked after his mother, the ailing Dowager, and his wife, the absent Countess. Then his face melted into sorrow, and he shook his head dolefully.

“I wish either of them, or preferably both, were sitting at this table just now,” he said in a low voice. “I miss their wisdom. We men… we cannot do without our women to guide us, Miss Parish. It is a great grief to me that I have not the two most important women in my life beside me now, when we are in such trouble.”

Katherine murmured something, although she hardly knew what, for her heart was filled with grief for her father all over again. The earl might miss his mother and his wife, but Katherine desperately missed her father, with his easy-going approach to life. In some ways, he was very like Kent, in that nothing daunted him. He had planned his businesses with the utmost care, and left no detail unconsidered, but he accepted the vagaries of life without complaint. When one of his earliest mills had burnt to the ground, putting their financial affairs in great peril, he had merely shrugged and said it was only bricks and wood and cotton, and at least there had been no loss of life.

Two courses came and went, the cloths were cleared and dessert laid out and yet Katherine noticed none of it. It was only when chairs were pushed back and everyone started to rise that she realised that the ladies were departing for the drawing room. The gentlemen all stood and bowed as they left, and abruptly Katherine was cut adrift from the pleasure of Kent’s company, finding herself in a sea of soft feminine voices, and the swish of silk skirts and ivory fans.

She found a corner near the instrument to hide herself away, and was relieved that no one came near her until Lady Alice asked for the instrument to be opened. Then, Aveline’s clear voice rose above the murmur of conversation.

“Katherine will play. She would rather play than talk.”

Lady Alice spoke quietly to Mrs George Atherton, who sat beside her, and that lady rose and came towards Katherine.

“Miss Parish, Lady Alice has charged me to enquire if you would oblige us with a little music while we await the tea things. She was delighted with your performance the last time you were here.”

Katherine readily agreed to it. For once, Aveline was doing her a favour, for she would indeed rather play than talk, at least while Kent Atherton was not there to talk to. She settled at the pianoforte and began a gentle piece that would not overwhelm the many quiet conversations around the room. After a second piece she paused, sure that someone else would want to take over, but when no one volunteered she began a third piece. It was pure pleasure for her, for the instrument was an excellent one, superior to the one at Cathcart House, and she had no desire to surrender it yet awhile.

Eventually the gentlemen began to drift in, and at once Lady Olivia called for the carpets to be rolled up and dancing to begin. Those wishing to play cards were directed to the library, and the parlour adjoining the drawing room was available for quiet conversation, but the drawing room was to be given over to the dancers.

Katherine rose from the instrument and retreated to her corner, but after a few minutes, Lady Olivia found her there.

“Miss Parish, would it be very presumptuous of me to ask you to return to the instrument? I had arranged for Mrs Dewar to play for the dancers, but she has not yet arrived and it would be such a shame to delay our enjoyment for a moment longer than necessary. But you have played so splendidly for us already, so if your fingers are quite worn out, I shall beg your pardon and leave you in peace. I can always play myself, if need be.”

“No, indeed, I should be delighted to provide the dance music,” Katherine said. “There is nothing I enjoy more than playing, and I can continue all night if need be. If Mrs Dewar arrives, she may dance herself, if she chooses. But what would you have me play first?”

“The music is all set out in order over here,” she said, gathering a pile of papers from a side table and carrying them to the instrument. “I am sure there is nothing in there that will give you the least trouble.”

“Ah, yes, I know all these,” Katherine said, swiftly leafing through them. “Just give the word when you are ready to begin. Enjoy your dancing, my lady.”

She gave a brilliant smile. “I shall! Oh, I certainly shall!”

Katherine was accustomed to being ignored as she played for those dancing. For musical performances, a performer might be listened to attentively, or joined at the instrument by someone wanting to sing, but when the company is caught up in the enchantment of the dance, the musician is treated as if she is not even there.

Not tonight, however. Her cousin James danced once with Lady Olivia and once with Miss Strong, but the rest of the time he sat near Katherine, watching her play, complimenting her performance and jumping up to help her find the next piece between dances. Fortunately, he did not attempt to turn the pages for her, which would have been nothing but a distraction, when she knew every piece by heart already, but she wondered greatly what he meant by such attentions.

At first, there were only three couples dancing, but gradually more joined in. Kent, one of the last of the gentlemen to return, danced first with Emily’s older sister, Julia, and then her younger sister, Penelope. Then it was Miss Franklyn, followed by Miss Strong. After that, since the Dewars had now arrived, he danced with one of the Dewar sisters. Katherine watched it all surreptitiously, noting Aveline’s increasing annoyance at being repeatedly overlooked, and Kent’s cheerful manner of completely ignoring her. It was not that she lacked partners, for she stood up for every dance, but the one she wanted eluded her.

After that, as Katherine was reaching for the next piece of music, Lady Olivia approached her again.

“A little change, Miss Parish. I am to play the next, and you are to dance.”

“Oh no, I do not dance.”

“I am assured that you do indeed dance if it is a reel, and lo, the next is indeed a reel, you see.” Triumphantly she waved the music at Katherine. “Look, your partner awaits you.”

And there was Kent, holding out his hand to her and smiling, smiling… and behind him, Lucas and Emily, urging her to make up a set with them.

“I cannot wait to see you dance, my dear friend!” Emily cried.

Katherine was scarlet with embarrassment, but how could she resist the combined entreaties of all of them, and especially that warm smile? She ceded the instrument to Lady Olivia, and allowed herself to be led onto the floor and take up the proper position as the opening was played. And then she danced, and the happy faces of her companions brought reward enough for her bravery.

A reel was not the most challenging of dances, for the steps and movements were simple, and many despised it for that reason. Only one other group joined them in the dance. From the side of the room, Aveline glared angrily at her, but Katherine did not care. She could not remember a time, even in Branton, when she had been happier, and she could not suppress her own joyful smile as she wove in and out, spun and turned, savouring every second of the experience.

Whatever happened after, this moment was one she would never, ever forget.