Page 13 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

T he note from Cousin Emily was brief.

‘Kent, Katherine Parish has been sent to Helmsley to live as companion to Mrs Ryker, a friend of Mrs Cathcart. Emily.’

Kent was on the doorstep at Westwick Heights within the hour, only to find that Emily had gone out with Aunt Jane and her sisters. He found Lucas at the stable, however.

“What is all this about Miss Parish going away, cousin?” he said without preamble.

“Oh… Kent. Yes, I thought you might be upset about that.”

Upset? He did not want Lucas drawing conclusions from his manner, so he said more temperately, “I am surprised, that is all. She was going to explain about the new sort of valves, and now I find her gone, and with no warning.”

Lucas eyed him oddly. “Valves, eh? Yes, it was a bit sudden. Even Katherine herself had no notion it was in the wind, just told one day and off the next.”

“Who is this Mrs Ryker?”

“A wealthy widow, apparently. Lives alone, needs a companion. More than that I cannot say. Emily has the direction, if you want to go down there.”

For an instant, Kent’s spirits lifted, but he realised at once that if he called upon Katherine at Helmsley, that would be as good as a declaration, and he was not at all sure he wanted to take that step yet. He liked her very well, that was true, but marriage was a big step, and once he was committed, there would be no possibility of a career for him. He would be dependent on his father’s largesse forever.

So he went home and pondered his future. Surely there would be a change in his fortunes soon? Something would turn up, he was sure of it.

***

K atherine found it easier than expected to settle into her new home. Mrs Ryker was a kindly soul, who spared neither expense nor effort to provide her with everything necessary for her comfort. The demands on Katherine’s time were few, so she was free to play the instrument, read or write letters, as she preferred, no one insisted she attempt to embroider and no objection was made if she ventured down to the kitchen to make a cake or a pie, or talk to Sukey, the cook, about meals. All Saints Church was directly across the road, and its cool, echoing interior made an acceptable replacement for St Timothy’s. An array of shops was located within easy walking distance, and she found a reason to go there almost every day.

Saturday was the day for the market, and Mrs Ryker happily walked about on Katherine’s arm talking to the sheep farmers and wool merchants. Her late husband had been in the wool trade, having interests right the way through the process from the sheep, through carding and spinning, and finally weaving, and many a weather-worn farmer’s visage broke into a broad smile at the sight of her.

The house was comfortably appointed, rather than elegant. It was not as large as Katherine was used to, having only a book room, dining room and small parlour on the ground floor, the drawing room and Mrs Ryker’s bedroom on the first floor, and two more bedrooms above that. Katherine’s room was at the back of the house overlooking a long, narrow strip of garden, with a view of Helmsley castle beyond. The room was pleasantly appointed, the bed was comfortable, and with a small table and chair in the window, and a larger chair beside the fire, she could retreat there for solitude if she was not needed elsewhere.

In some ways, she was reminded of life in Branton. The house was different, in fact, the whole town was different, with its pretty little thatched cottages and houses in pale stone, whereas Branton felt darker, the tall houses, mills and warehouses looming over the people scurrying about below. And then there were the many mill chimneys belching out their clouds of dark smoke, to add to the smoke from kitchens and fireplaces in the houses.

Still, the Helmsley house held only the two of them above stairs and five servants, including Daisy. There was no butler and, with no man in the house, nor carriage in the coach house, not a single male servant, apart from the kitchen boy. The food was plain fare, such as she preferred, and not so excessively abundant as at Cathcart House. Life in Mrs Ryker’s house was, Katherine decided, very pleasant. It was not quiet, for Mrs Ryker was never silent for more than two minutes together, but there was not the crowded feeling Katherine had experienced at Cathcart House, surrounded as she was by so many other people.

Her Branton friends continued to write to her regularly, expressing surprise at the sudden move, but avid for news of her new home, and sharing all the little doings from home, and she wrote often to satisfy their curiosity. When she had first moved to Cathcart House, such letters had reduced her to tears of longing for the familiar faces and streets. Now, she delighted to hear their news, naturally, but somehow it was as if she looked back on Branton through a fog, for some of her memories were hazy. She had to struggle to bring some faces to mind, or recall which of the Mason brothers had just got married and which had the child with croup. Then she would panic a little at the thought that perhaps Kent’s face would fade away, too.

Emily wrote to her sometimes, but she was not a regular correspondent, and she did not describe things in sufficient detail, so the page might be crammed with outings and dinners and new gowns, but Katherine could not get a clear picture of any of it. But sometimes she mentioned Kent, which was a little thrill, the words read and reread to brighten the hours when Katherine had retired to her room.

Mrs Ryker’s social engagements were numerous but they were very consistent. A dinner out once a week, a dinner hosted once a month, and every other night but Sunday spent playing whist with a group of friends after dinner, one group for Mondays, one for Tuesdays, and so on. On Thursdays the friends came to Mrs Ryker’s house to play. This would have been dull for Katherine if she had wanted to play cards herself, for the whist players were precisely four, with no room for an extra, but she was quite happy to sit at the instrument and play soothing pieces, or else read or sew. On Fridays a larger group gathered, with a number of young people, and then she was drawn into a noisy round game. On Sundays, she could attend three services if she were so minded.

There were things she missed, of course. Her friendship with Emily. Her rides on the moors. The beautiful instruments that the Athertons and Franklyns had at their disposal, that she had been privileged to play on. Her music cabinet, which Aunt Cathcart said was too bulky to take with her. The walk through the woods to Birchall village. The gossipy sewing circle at the rectory. Most of all, her long conversations with Kent Atherton. But all things considered, she was not dissatisfied with her present life, and was not even sure she would want to return to Birchall if the opportunity were offered.

About a week after she had moved, a familiar carriage drew up outside the house. Looking down from the drawing room, Katherine squeaked in delight. Emily! There was Emily stepping from the carriage with a beaming smile on her face, and Lucas handing her down. By the time Katherine had raced downstairs and hauled open the front door even before the doorbell could be rung, there was another smiling face gazing at her, a face so familiar in her dreams that she almost could not believe she was actually awake. Had she nodded off over her hemming, and was imagining this?

“Miss Parish,” he said, the smile widening even further. “How delightful to see you again.”

If there were one sight guaranteed to brighten her day, it was Kent Atherton bowing over her hand with all his customary grace, rendering her speechless with joy.

“Are you surprised?” Emily cried, throwing her arms around Katherine. “I hope you are… and that it is a pleasant surprise… but if you are otherwise engaged… or it is not convenient…”

Mrs Ryker arrived just then and swept the visitors into the house, Katherine scurrying in her wake mumbling introductions, while the kitchen boy directed the coachman and groom to the inn.

Kent bore a large package, and as soon as Mrs Ryker’s tongue allowed, he passed it to Katherine while Emily explained.

“Mrs Cathcart would not agree to us bringing your music cabinet with us, for she says it is far too fragile to be transported—”

“Even though it came all the way from Lancashire unscathed,” Kent added.

“Exactly so,” Emily said. “I think it is such a pretty piece that she wants to keep it in her drawing room. But she could not prevent us from bringing some of your music, for it is yours, after all.”

“Goodness, what a great number of sheets,” Mrs Ryker said, as Kent cut the strings on the parcel for Katherine to unwrap.

“Oh, Katherine knows hundreds of pieces,” Emily said. “She was quite the best performer for miles around at home, and I am sure there will be few to equal her in Helmsley.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean… I’m very well aware of her talent, Miss Atherton. I meant only that printed music like this is very expensive. To have such a fine collection must have cost your father a pretty penny, Katherine, dear.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “And this is no more than a quarter of it. But I thought you were poor!” She blushed scarlet. “I beg your pardon, that was abominably rude of me.”

“No, no,” Katherine said. “It is a natural supposition, but we were not poor when Papa was alive, no. His income latterly was above three thousand pounds a year, but of course he had borrowed money for the new mill and when he died it was all lost. I am very poor indeed now.”

Emily wriggled uncomfortably. “I beg your pardon, Katherine. It must be intolerably painful for you to talk about, and I would not for the world distress you.”

“It does not distress me, not any more,” Katherine said, feeling no little surprise to find that it was so. “When I left Branton, with the bailiffs still in the house, that was very dreadful. But all our friends and neighbours gathered on the street to bid me farewell, even the mill workers who had lost their employment and the little children from my Sunday classes, and many friends still write to me and remember me kindly, so I am not downhearted. And I have new friends and a new home. Mrs Ryker could not have been kinder to me, and if I have very little money, I also have little need of it.”

Emily hugged her, and Mrs Ryker wiped a tear from her eye, murmuring, “Such bravery!”

Fortunately, Etta came in just then with tea and cakes, and there was a scramble to find suitable wine for the men, not to mention glasses of sufficient quality to touch the lips of the son and nephew of an earl, so nothing more was said of money. It was only later, when Mrs Ryker had shooed them outside for a while — “Do go and show your friends the garden, Katherine dear. I am sure they will be pleased with my hazelnut tree, and the arbour beneath it.” — that Emily raised the subject again.

“May I ask… if it does not distress you… your father’s income… I mean, one should not talk about such things but—”

“But everyone does,” Lucas put in. “What she means to say, Miss Parish, is that your father’s income once exceeded Mr Cathcart’s. I wonder whether he is aware of that.”

“I do not think he suspects,” Katherine said with a little smile. “My aunt and uncle know very little about me, or my father. They are ashamed of what he did, and so they never speak of it.”

“That is why Aunt Alice knew nothing of it until that evening when we all danced the reel, do you remember?” Kent said. As if she could forget! “Lady Esther Franklyn asked Mrs Cathcart about you, and about your father, so she was obliged to confess that he was a mill owner and not a gentleman. Poor Aunt Alice was rather shocked, and saw fit to warn me against keeping such low company. I put her straight on the matter, you may be sure, for whatever your father was, you are a lady through and through, Miss Parish.”

She blushed deeply at the compliment, and when she dared to look at him again, he was gazing at her with the intimate smile that she loved. Oh, if only it were just for her! But he was the same friendly man with everyone, she knew that.

Still, his closeness was unnerving, rendering her unable to do more than shake her head.

The garden being small and its secrets soon exhausted, they made their way to the ruins of Helmsley Castle, and strolled about, Emily and Lucas racing ahead, just as they did on horseback, while Katherine was left to walk beside Kent.

At first, he talked about the castle, for he knew more of its history than she did, but after a while he said in a low voice, “And are you truly content in your new home, Miss Parish? For I know well that you are not one to complain about inconveniences or slights, but I cannot be easy in my mind until I know the truth. Your departure was so abrupt that I was sure there must have been some breach with the Cathcarts, and coming, as it did so soon after the evening at Corland, I should be very sorry indeed if anything that happened that night had caused trouble between you.”

He meant the reel, of course, but she thought it was not that at all. Now that she knew that Aunt Cathcart had been forced to disclose Katherine’s origins, and that Lady Alice had been shocked to discover it, she understood it very well. She remembered now that Aunt Cathcart had seemed out of sorts on the way home that evening. No doubt Lady Alice had impressed upon her that a match between Kent and Katherine would be highly unsuitable, and Aunt Cathcart had taken steps to see them separated. As if Katherine had ever had any hopes in that direction! She had as soon wish for the moon. But she could not say that to Kent.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Katherine cried, quite horrified that he should seek to take some blame for her situation. “I do not think it was anything that was done, only that Mrs Ryker wrote to Aunt Cathcart of her need for a companion, and my aunt thought it would suit me very well. Which it does.”

“Truly?” he said, looking at her with a quizzical expression. “She is not the social equal of the Cathcarts.”

“But nor am I!” Katherine said, with a low chuckle. “Mrs Ryker is not quite as vulgar as Mrs Vance, but she is cut from the same cloth. Her husband was a wool merchant, and I assure you, I feel far more at ease in her company than ever I did with my aunt and uncle, kind though they always were to me.”

“You would have grown accustomed in time to their different ways,” he said, and he frowned, as if he disapproved of her answer. “Miss Parish, I would not have you under the illusion that you cannot mingle with those of higher rank, just because your father was a mill owner.”

“Yet it is true,” she said sadly. “I do not mean that I am forbidden from doing so, for that is obvious nonsense. There is no rule of law that prohibits the mixing of high and low ranks, so long as the initiation comes from the higher rank. I mean only to say that I myself find it difficult. It is not that I cannot speak at all or hold a conversation, for I can do so well enough if I have a subject within my sphere of experience upon which to talk. But if I do not know my companion very well, when everyone is a stranger, and especially when the disparity of rank is large, then there are no common points on which to converse. When I sat beside your father, for instance, I had not the least idea what to say to him, or how to find a topic of interest to him, and he had the same difficulty with me. We contrived, after a fashion, but it was not easy. Whereas with you, sir, you talk about matters on which I can speak with some authority. There is never any difficulty talking to you.”

“No, indeed, I was astonished to discover the depth of your knowledge on certain subjects. But you are a woman of great good sense and intelligence, and if you can learn to play that piece from Handel that you performed at Corland, I have no doubt that you can learn other skills, to aid you in society. I believe if you applied yourself to the problem, you could easily discover topics of interest to my father.”

“The countess… he grew animated when I enquired after the countess, and the Dowager Countess, too.”

“Yes, his family is always in his heart. He can talk endlessly on that subject.”

“But what about Lady Esther Franklyn? What on earth might I say to her?”

“Oh, that is easy, and the answer is the same — ask her about her family. She might tell you about her two sons, but I suspect it will be her father, the Duke of Camberley, or her brother, the Marquess of Ramsey, and the endless array of Bucknells who infest the duke’s principal seat at Marshfields. She will tell you about Marshfields itself, too, with very little prodding.”

“So all I have to do is find one subject of compelling interest. With you, that is easy — mills and beam engines and such like. What about your brothers?”

“Walter is typical of many gentlemen, so you may ask about his horses, his guns and his various sporting endeavours, although just now I suspect he would prefer to talk about his future wife, Winnie Strong. Eustace…” He frowned. “Ancient weaponry and armour, I suppose. He has a great collection at Welwood, and knows all about the Corland collection, but do not ask unless you wish to be bored for some considerable time.”

“And your sister?”

“Olivia? Cake! That is what interests her most. And gowns, of course. Always a reliable subject with a young lady. But do not mention balls or Almack’s or the Queen’s drawing rooms or anything to do with the season, for she will begin to rant and probably end by weeping on your shoulder, having missed her first season this year. You see, it is quite easy really, Miss Parish.”

“Oh yes. What a pity it is that I shall not be able to try out these stratagems in earnest, for I shall not see any of these people again, I expect. But I shall try to apply the same principles to my new friends in Helmsley, and see if I get on better. I believe we have been walking for long enough, sir. Mrs Ryker may need me, and I must not neglect my employer for my own pleasure.”

“Then let us return to the house,” he said quietly.