Page 12 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

I t was not to be supposed that Katherine’s dance would be allowed to pass without comment, and Aveline began as soon as they were seated in the carriage.

“Mama, I hope you will give Katherine a little hint that a reel is not a ladylike dance. I trust I should never make such a spectacle of myself.”

“What is this?” Uncle Cathcart said, rousing from a half-dozing state. “Katherine dancing? I am sorry now that I was tucked away in the library, for I should dearly have liked to see such a thing.”

“It was a reel , Papa,” Aveline said. “Mama always tells us that we should never participate in such an uncouth dance.”

“If it is danced at Corland Castle, there cannot be anything wrong with it. Was your partner agreeable, Katherine?”

“Oh yes, sir. Most agreeable.”

“And who was he?”

“Mr Kent Atherton, sir.” And then, because she did not wish to make too much of Kent’s participation, she added, “We danced with Miss Emily Atherton and Mr Lucas Atherton, and Lady Olivia played the music.”

“There you are then, Aveline,” Uncle Cathcart said. “If the Athertons approve the reel, who are we to imagine we know better? Is that not so, my dear? For you always tell me that the earl and his family are the epitome of good breeding in this neighbourhood, at least.”

“But surely Lady Esther Franklyn is better bred than any of the Athertons,” Aveline said robustly, “and she did not approve of the reel, I am sure, nor Lady Alice. They are both so correct, and Mama was sitting between them while Katherine was making a spectacle of herself.”

“We shall speak more of this in the morning,” Aunt Cathcart said, sounding tired. “It is late, and we are all ready for our beds. At least I am, and my head has been aching this past hour or more.”

“Why did you not mention it sooner, my dear,” Uncle Cathcart said gently. “We could have left earlier if I had known.”

“It is of no consequence, but perhaps we may refrain from talking any more?”

“Of course, my dear.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

***

K ent found his father still in the library, sitting at one of the abandoned card tables, a glass of brandy in his hand.

“Father? Are you quite well?”

“Hmm? Oh, Kent… yes, yes, I am well enough. Did you enjoy the dancing?”

“Very much. I finally persuaded Miss Parish to stand up with me.” A hesitation, but now was as good a time as ever. “What did you think of her, now that you have had a chance to get to know her better? Is she not perfectly conversable?”

His father gave a wan smile. “With you, perhaps. She grew quite animated at times. But I still could not get more than two words together from her.”

“You will when you get to know her better, I am certain of it.”

“Perhaps. Are you quite set on this? She is a meek little creature… is that truly what you want? You will always have the mastery of her, but for myself I should prefer a girl with more spirit.”

“I am not sure what I want, to be honest,” Kent said. “All I know is that I like her and enjoy her company. Beyond that… I cannot yet say, but I would not pursue the matter if you were to disapprove.”

“Kent, it is for you to decide what sort of woman would suit you best,” the earl said tiredly. “I know of nothing against Miss Parish. She is not of our class, and she has no dowry to speak of, but that is of no consequence if she is the woman who can make you happy. I should be delighted to see you settled and the nursery put to its proper use, but do not rush into anything unless you are quite sure. You are young yet, and have not yet spent a full season in town, and you may find that Miss Parish shows to less advantage when you move more widely in society. I recommend you to take a little time to get to know her better before you take an irrevocable step, but I shall support you whatever you decide to do.”

“Thank you, Father.”

It was not quite the ringing endorsement he had hoped for, and his father’s support did not extend to allowing him to take up a career, but it was approval of a sort. All that remained was for Kent to decide whether Miss Parish was indeed the woman who could make him happy, not just in casual rides on the moor or during an energetic reel, but for the rest of his life. It was a heavy decision indeed, and he had no idea how he would reach a conclusion.

***

T o Katherine’s surprise, but also relief, nothing further was said about reels or uncouth dances or agreeable partners. By the time everyone gathered the next morning for a late breakfast, all was serene and there was not the slightest hint of a disagreement. Aunt Cathcart exuded goodwill, and even Aveline bade Katherine a cheerful, ‘Good morning, cousin’ , as if she had not spent the evening glowering at her.

The usual round of rides with Emily and her brother Lucas resumed, and although nothing was seen of Mr Kent Atherton, that was not unusual. The more days that passed without a glimpse of him, the happier Katherine would be when he finally appeared. One day she would enter the drawing room, or leave the rectory, or take one of her walks through the woods and there he would be, his smile lighting up her day and warming her right down to her toes.

She could not be under any illusions, however. However attentive he had been that evening at the castle, however intently he gazed at her or widely he smiled, he was not in love with her. How could he be, when he made no effort to see her again? If he felt any affection for her beyond friendship, he would have sought her out within a day or two of the dinner. The fact that he did not was a salutary lesson in her importance to him. However much he filled her thoughts, it was clearly not the same for him, and she clung to that raft of reason when all her turbulent emotions threatened to sweep her into imprudent hope. Perhaps he would break her heart in the end, but he had never given her any reason to expect more from him than brotherly affection.

About a week after the dinner, Aunt Cathcart called Katherine into her sitting room. It was a gloomy room, and chilly, for the fire was seldom lit, being used only when she needed quietness to work on her accounts or to write difficult letters. It was also the place she summoned her daughters to ‘have a little chat’ , as she put it, after some transgression or other, so Katherine was filled with foreboding.

“Sit down, child. I have something I want to say to you.”

Dutifully, Katherine took the seat indicated, racking her brain to recall any action of hers that might have provoked a lecture. The reel, perhaps? But that seemed to have passed now. She tried to discern from her aunt’s expression whether she was cross or disappointed or simply resigned about some perceived misdemeanour, but if anything Aunt Cathcart seemed pleased about something. Katherine folded her hands in her lap and waited to hear her fate.

“You are aware of our hopes for you, Katherine,” her aunt began. “When we offered you a home here, it was with the fixed intent of treating you exactly like our own daughters, and, in time, finding you a husband, and that is still our dearest wish, for you to be well settled. However, we are not well placed here to offer you the wide society that is necessary for you to make a sensible choice. Birchall is such a small village, our neighbours are far above us in rank and you are not quite comfortable in such society. You appreciate the problem, I am sure?”

Katherine nodded, although she was not sure that it was such a problem as her aunt implied. After all, if one had no expectation of ever marrying, the lack of potential husbands was hardly an issue. But her aunt would say whatever she had decided to say, and there was no point trying to deflect her from that course.

“But now an opportunity has arisen… and it seems to me that it might answer very well. An old friend of mine, a widow, a very wealthy woman… she lives in Helmsley, and she is in need of a companion, a young lady, she says, who will be full of energy and cheer her up. Now, I know you are very settled here, my dear, and we are delighted for you to stay here for as long as you wish, naturally, but it does seem to me that this is a situation that would suit you perfectly. You have long wished you could be of more use than at present, but we have servants enough for household tasks and there is little else for you to do here. But this is a chance for you to be of the utmost use to a lady who needs your services far more than we do.”

Katherine listened in increasing horror. Helmsley? A companion? She was so confused she hardly knew what to think. She understood only that she was being sent away from Birchall — from her friend, Emily, from the church where she had begun to feel useful, and most of all, from the man she loved. “Have I displeased you in some way, aunt?”

“No, no! Nothing could be further from the truth! We will miss you abominably, you may be certain of that, but just think, Katherine — you will be living in a town, just as you used to do, and Mrs Ryker will take you about, you know, and introduce you to everyone. She has a great many friends, and you will meet lots of young people, and who knows what may come of it? You will be very well situated in Helmsley, and you will be the greatest comfort and help to Mrs Ryker.”

When Katherine said nothing, she went on, “It will not be forever, for Mrs Ryker’s nephew, who is her heir — the heir to a great fortune, in fact — is looking about him for a wife, and when he marries, his aunt will not need a companion and you may come back to us then. Do you see, my dear?”

Katherine saw very well. It was a way of removing her from Aveline’s sphere, and also from her growing friendships with Kent and Emily. The daughter of a mill owner was no fitting companion for the family of an earl. In that regard, Katherine and her aunt were in full accord. But after so recent an upheaval in her life, to be uprooted again and sent away to a new home amongst strangers who were not even relations was not a happy prospect. She could not help feeling that this was a punishment of some sort, and that therefore she must have transgressed.

“May I take Daisy with me?”

“But of course. We would not send you off without your maid. We will travel to Helmsley tomorrow—”

“So soon!”

“There is no point in delay, is there? So you have the rest of today to pack all your things. There! I am glad that is all settled, and you will be very happy there, I am sure.”

Dazed, Katherine went to her room and sent for Daisy. The rest of the day was spent in a whirlwind of packing. Jenny came to help, her face long.

“We’ll all miss you so much, miss,” she said glumly. “You was never any trouble at all, not like some I could name. And there’ll be no music in the house no more. We all used to like to hear you playin’ and playin’ all day long. House won’t be the same without you, and that’s a fact. Everyone says so.”

“Thank you, Jenny. I am very sorry to go, too, but… but my aunt believes it to be for the best.”

“Best for who, though?” Jenny said darkly.

But Katherine could not allow that sort of speculation. “My aunt and uncle are thinking only of my interests, Jenny.”

“Of course, miss,” Jenny said at once, but she looked unconvinced.

Katherine was unconvinced, too. She was being got out of the way, that much was certain. Her aunt had never interfered in her friendship with Kent before, apart from warning her not to get her hopes up, but perhaps after the evening at the castle, she felt it was time to step in. Perhaps it was just as well. The more she saw of Kent, the deeper in love she fell, and the more pain she would suffer later when he married someone of his own class. Yes, it really was all for the best.

It was late in the afternoon before Katherine remembered that she had planned to ride with Emily the next day. She dashed off a note and sent it off to Westwick Heights, and then prepared for her last dinner at Cathcart House.

Emily and Lucas arrived before breakfast the next morning, their faces anxious, and were shown up to Katherine’s room where she was finishing her packing.

“You cannot go away! Not when we are such good friends,” Emily wailed. “Who shall I ride with now? Have you told Kent? He will be so upset!”

Katherine’s cheeks flamed, but she answered quietly, “I cannot write to him as I did to you, so I depend upon you to tell him. Pray thank him for all his kindness to me.”

“His kindness!” Emily cried, and would have said more, but Lucas frowned at her.

“We will tell him,” he said. “And you will not be so far away. Helmsley is hardly the other end of the country, after all. It is barely ten miles from here, an easy ride.”

“Oh, yes! We could come and call upon you!” Emily said happily. “It will not be the same as seeing you almost every day, but it is not so bad. And perhaps… I should not say this, but perhaps you will be valued there as you are not here.”

“I have no complaint to make of my aunt and uncle,” Katherine said sharply. “I should not wish you to think there is any point of contention between us.”

“Then why send you away?” Emily said, and the question was unanswerable.

***

T he journey to Helmsley was accomplished without difficulty. Aunt Cathcart chattered away, telling Katherine about the duties expected of a companion, most of which she forgot as soon as she heard it. Her spirits were very low, as she racked her brain to recall the misstep which was so dire that she needed to be sent away. It must have been dancing the reel, she decided, for she could think of nothing else. It was fortunate that her aunt needed no response, beyond an occasional ‘Yes, aunt’ or ‘No, aunt’.

On the backward facing seat, Daisy practically bounced with excitement. It was the first time she had ever been to Helmsley, the first time she had ever left behind her family altogether, and the first time she would be acting as a lady’s maid without the support of the knowledgeable Miss Rathbone.

Helmsley was as busy as any other town, the streets choked with carriages and wagons and riders and carts, not to mention a man herding a small flock of sheep, and walkers weaving in and out of the traffic as they went about their business. Katherine had not taken much notice of the town before, on the few occasions when she had been there to visit the shops or the seamstress. Now she looked about her with new interest, for this was to be her home for the foreseeable future.

It was a pretty little place, the houses almost all built in the same pale stone, which gave a pleasing uniformity. Most were one or two storeys, but there were some larger houses, too, and the carriage drew up outside one such house, the windows indicating three principal storeys. To Katherine’s pleasure, it sat directly opposite the church, and just round the corner from the market square. What could be more convenient!

Almost before the carriage came to a complete halt, the front door opened, and a well-rounded woman of Aunt Cathcart’s age rushed down the steps, her face wreathed in smiles.

“Annie! My dear friend!” She threw her arms around Aunt Cathcart the instant she set foot on the pavement, and it was some moments before she could disentangle herself.

“Well! Audrey! It is not as if we have not met for years, after all,” Aunt Cathcart said, rather flustered, as she straightened her bonnet. “And this is—”

“Miss Parish, or may I call you Katherine? Oh, so pretty! You didn’t mention that , Annie. Come in, come in! Your coachman must bring in the luggage for I have no manservant just now, only a boy to help in the kitchen. Ah, there you are, Ned, Ellen. Show them where to put the luggage, will you? Come on in, Annie. I’ve ordered tea to be brought up the moment you arrive. How were the roads? Tolerable, I trust? You made good time. I hardly thought to look for you for another half hour, at least, and here you are already, sooner than I dared to hope. Come upstairs, Katherine. This way, ladies.”

Katherine wondered if she ever stopped to draw breath. At least there would be no difficulty if she herself could find nothing to say, for clearly Mrs Ryker could talk enough for both of them. Her accent was not strong, but she was not quite from the top level of society, just like Katherine.

The drawing room was a prettily appointed apartment overlooking the street and the church opposite, where two maids brought tea and an array of pastries and cakes. Katherine and her aunt sipped and nibbled, while Mrs Ryker tucked in with gusto, while still managing to talk nonstop.

“You’re musical, I hear, Katherine,” she said at one point, waving a half-eaten strawberry tartlet to emphasise the point. “I have an instrument here, you see. I’ve noticed you eyeing it longingly, and indeed, I hope you’ll play whenever you wish. My two girls played when they were at home, but they’ve been married these two years past and it’s scarcely been touched since. But I’ve had it tuned, and it awaits you whenever you wish to play.

“Thank you, ma’am, I shall—”

“I adore music, myself. I played a little when I was young, although nothing like this. These modern instruments are quite different. I learnt on a spinet, a charming little instrument, but nothing would do for my girls but a proper pianoforte, and I have to say it makes a most effective sound, although—” She paused to pop the remains of the tartlet into her mouth, swallowing it almost instantly. “—personally, I prefer the more delicate sound of the spinet. But there, one must change with the times, I suppose. Another of these little pastries, Annie? Katherine? No? Well, I might have one more myself, then. So do you leave any heartbroken young men behind you, Katherine? I am sure you do… oh, look how she blushes! There’s someone, I swear it.”

“Katherine blushes a great deal, Audrey, without the need to invoke young men.”

“Oh, shy, is she? Well, my dear, you’ll find my friends very easy to get along with. We won’t be rubbing shoulders with any earls or duke’s daughters here, just pleasant, friendly people. Goodness me, those little pastries are all gone. What a pity. Do you want to get off, Annie? I’m sure you want to get back home before it gets too late, and it’s all uphill from here.”

The carriage was sent for from the inn where the horses had been baited, and Katherine bade her aunt farewell. If she shed a few tears as her aunt embraced her, it was as much from fear of the future as sorrow to be parting. She was fond of her aunt, in a dutiful sort of way, but she could not quite understand why she had been invited into the family and welcomed almost as another daughter, and now was to be exiled to live amongst strangers. After six months, when she had just begun to feel settled, she had been uprooted again. And here, there was no possibility of meeting Kent.

How would she bear it?