Page 16 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

K ent stood before the altar of St Timothy’s church beside Walter, watching Winnie Strong walking towards them on her father’s arm, her face filled with radiance. Alongside him, Walter, too, was glowing with happiness.

Was this how it would be for Kent if he married Katherine? He could picture her on her uncle’s arm, but she would be blushing, her head lowered, the very image of demure maidenhood. When she reached his side, she would look up at him and smile, that look that made him feel like a giant walking the earth.

Would he, too, be joyful? Would he smile back at her adoringly as Walter now gazed at Winnie? Would he speak the responses in a clear, confident voice, in the certainty of a happy future?

It was all so difficult! Should he or should he not? Marriage was such a risky venture, their whole lives at stake. Katherine liked him well enough now, but if once she became accustomed to the wider world of London, would she find him dull? He was not a fine, handsome fellow like Walter, nor a man who took what he wanted from life, like Eustace. He was a nonentity, if he were being honest with himself, a nobody, the unwanted third son with no redeeming features. He had always drifted through life, asking very little from it, but now he had to decide, and he could not bring himself to settle one way or the other.

The service over, the locals meandered away to drink the newly married pair’s health in the White Horse, while carriages conveyed the earl’s guests back to Corland, for much the same purpose, although in champagne instead of ale. Everyone gathered in the great hall, the autumn sunshine filtering down from the glass roof far above.

There was another cause for celebration, too. Mr Nicholson, the seemingly benign chaplain murdered in the summer, had not only not been ordained and thereby rendered all the earl’s children illegitimate, but he had been quietly lining his pockets for years at the expense of the estate. But now his accumulated wealth had been tracked down and a sizeable proportion of it returned to the earl — no less than forty and perhaps as much as fifty thousand pounds.

For about five minutes, Kent had been excited — surely now his father would allow him to establish himself in a profession? But not so. He was still happy to finance Kent if he married, but he would not hear of him leaving the family home.

“Walter is insisting on going away to London to make a name for himself, and Eustace is hardly ever here. You will not deprive me of my only remaining son, surely?” he said plaintively.

“Indeed, I would not wish to leave you, Father, you know that, but nor do I wish to live on your charity forever. I should like to make my own way in the world, as third sons have done since time immemorial. It is only right, and especially so now that I am not even a legitimate son. Yes, yes, I know it makes no difference to you, but to the world, it does. Father, I should like to be respected for myself, not simply because I am your son. If Walter has the chance to do that, why not me?”

“I could not stop him,” the earl said glumly, “and in all honesty, I had not the heart to do so. Walter has had by far the worst of this business. For almost thirty years, he has been the heir to the title and estate, he was Viscount Birtwell, a person of some importance in society. Now, he has nothing, and if playing around at the Treasury with Alfred Strong gives him a little pleasure, who am I to deny him that? He will get bored soon enough, I dare say, and Langley Villa will still be there waiting for him and Winnie.”

“And I have no quarrel with that, but…” Kent hesitated, but if he did not ask directly, he would never know. “What about this fortune of Nicholson’s that has found its way back to you? A very little of that would set me up perfectly.”

“To run off and play about with engines? An Atherton , fooling about with such devices, and getting his hands dirty? I should think not! Besides, I shall need a good bit of that money to set up Olivia with a suitable dowry. She has ambitions, that girl, and I should like to see her well married. As for a career, my boy, what is wrong with the church? Dewar is still young, but old Hammond over at Welwood is not likely to see out many more winters, and think how convenient that would be, to have you so close! I cannot bear to think of you leaving us altogether, you know. You keep us all cheerful with that ready smile of yours, my boy. What would we do without you, eh?”

It was a compliment of sorts, and Kent had not the heart to insist. So he sipped his champagne and ambled about, finding himself eventually beside his cousin Bertram.

“Your turn next,” he said cheerfully.

“I expect so,” Bertram said, his face lighting up just as Walter’s had done. “Bea has settled on a date, so Dewar will read the banns for the first time next Sunday. Of course, there is still the possibility that Uncle Charles will get there before us. Mother has a new candidate for him.” He indicated with a little tilt of the head a woman in green velvet, standing beside Mrs George Atherton. “Miss Marjorie Quick. Quick by name and quick by nature, apparently, for she is reputed to be a bruising rider. Has a huge string of hunters, I am told.”

Miss Quick laughed just then, a great honking laugh. Kent thought she sounded like nothing so much as a goose.

“A keen rider should please Father,” Kent said. “Better than some of the others Aunt Jane has put forward as the next Countess of Rennington, anyway.”

“Oh yes!” Bertram pulled a face. “The terribly pious one — that would never have done.”

“Or the bluestocking.”

“Heavens, yes! What was Mother thinking? But she will leave no stone unturned to get him married off and avoid the dreadful possibility of our branch of the family inheriting, and none of us have any quarrel with that.” He shuddered. “The last thing I want is to be the Earl of Rennington, so the sooner Uncle Charles marries again and cuts me out the better. But what of you, cousin? Now that Walter is wed, since Eustace seems to like his freedom, it must be your turn and you have someone in your eye, if Emily is to be believed.”

“I cannot say,” Kent said. “I have not yet settled in my mind what I want to do. How did you decide? You were determined not to succumb to Miss Franklyn when she first announced her determination to marry you, and yet… here you are, banns about to be called.”

“I kissed her,” Bertram said, with a quick laugh. “Or at least, she kissed me… no, I definitely kissed her… There was kissing, anyway, and then… everything was different. I am not much help, am I? But even if you were to kiss Miss Parish, there is no getting past the lack of dowry, although perhaps that does not matter so much, now that Nicholson’s ill-gotten gains have been recovered. Your father will put up some of that tidy sum to settle on your bride, I am sure.”

“He would do so, but the price for that is that we live here, and then I shall never escape, cousin. I shall never see the foundry in Birmingham where those marvellous beam engines are constructed. I shall never see one in action, never hear the noise or feel the power as it works.”

“You could always take a wedding tour to Birmingham, if your bride were agreeable. Most women prefer a more scenic location, but I am sure she would be happy to oblige you. Or there are engines here in the north… Leeds, I have heard. Many of these mill towns have engines.”

“Branton,” Kent murmured. “Katherine’s home, Branton, is a mill town.”

“What could be better? Take her to see all her friends, then, and while she chats over the teacups, you can look at these engines.”

All Kent could see was that at the end of it, they would have to come back to Corland Castle and live there for the rest of their lives. “I need something more , cousin, something new and exciting and fascinating, and most of all, I need a profession so that I may live an independent life and not be forever beholden to my father for every last farthing.

“Perhaps you are right, cousin,” Bertram said ruefully. “Far be it from me to give you advice, but you will never get yourself a profession and an independent life if you sit under your father’s wings all the time. You are a grown man, so why not simply pack up and go? To Birmingham, if that is where your interest lies. You must have money enough for it, for your allowance is larger than mine and you cannot spend even the half of it. Presumably you have made something from Eustace’s little enterprise, too.”

Kent laughed. “You make it sound so easy — just pack up and go!”

“It is easy. You know, Kent, you are far too good-natured for this world. Your father wants you to stay, so you stay. Eustace wants your help, so you help. Miss Parish likes to ride, so you go riding with her. Olivia wants you to squire her about, and you do it. No doubt if Miss Parish decides she would like a husband, you will oblige her in that, too, whether you want it or not. But giving way to everyone else is not necessarily going to make you happy. Do something for yourself for a change.”

“But do I have any right to be happy?” he murmured.

“Ah, you are minded to be philosophical,” Bertram said, with a quick laugh. “I shall need far more champagne before I can tackle a question like that.”

All through the rest of that day, Kent pondered Bertram’s words. Why not simply pack up and go? You must have money enough for it. It was a good point.

That night, Kent unlocked the bottom drawer of the small desk in his room where he kept his money. From the day he left for Harrow, his father had given him an allowance suitable for his position in life. He had returned from his first term with a sum still unspent, and the purse had been tossed into this drawer. Every quarter day since, another purse had joined it, the amounts within increasing as he grew to adulthood. Then there had been his winnings from cards to add to the collection, and a few IOUs which he had never bothered to redeem. He had dipped into the drawer whenever he found himself in need of funds, but he had never bothered to count up the total to see what his accumulated worth might be.

Now, he took the drawer out of the desk, and tipped the contents onto the bed. He was astonished at what he saw. How had he managed to build such a hoard? His father had always been generous, he supposed, and he himself had never had expensive tastes. His wardrobe was modest, he rode whatever he could find in his father’s stable, and he had never gambled to excess or kept a mistress. Whenever he travelled, his father always gave him extra money to pay for post horses and rooms at inns. His tailor’s bills and his valet’s salary were his only regular expenses.

Three thousand two hundred and forty seven pounds, that was how much he was worth. There were IOUs worth another four hundred pounds from Eustace and Walter, but he was hardly likely to dun his own brothers, so they went in the fire. Several more long-forgotten IOUs from his Cambridge days, but they went on the fire, too. Two rings that Izzy had pledged once instead of an IOU. He would have to return them to her, of course.

Right at the back of the drawer he found two bundles of letters. One bundle was from the man who had made the wonderful telescope at the tower. Those he would keep. The other was from a young lady he had met briefly in town, who had fancied herself to be violently in love, and had written him increasingly impassioned letters declaring her undying affection. Since she was no more than thirteen at the time, and he barely fourteen, the affair had speedily reached its inevitable conclusion, but those letters had warmed him for a long time. He had kept them to prove to himself that whatever happened to him, whether he ever married or not, he would always have the knowledge that one person in the world had loved him passionately. He supposed she was happily married now and had long since forgotten him, as he had forgotten her until that moment. She would certainly not thank him for keeping her most improper letters, so they, too, were consigned to the fire.

Three thousand pounds! Enough to pay his way to Birmingham or wherever he wanted to go. He could stay there for a while, find lodgings, eat at chop houses or cheap inns. Or with so much money at his disposal, he could buy a share in a mill, and be at least a partial owner of one of those wonderful machines. It would be an investment, and his father could not object to that.

***

K atherine found herself receiving an unexpected degree of attention from Aunt Cathcart before the proposed dinner to celebrate her return. Her aunt’s own lady’s maid was to dress her hair, and there had been a lengthy discussion on her choice of gown, although in the end, Katherine’s wishes had prevailed.

When Rathbone had been dismissed, Aunt Cathcart sat down beside Katherine and took her hand.

“You think me a fussy old woman, I suppose, for becoming a little excited about this evening, but I truly believe you have a wonderful opportunity before you.”

“If you mean Mr Kent Atherton, ma’am, then—”

“I know, you have no expectations, he is just being kind to you, I fully appreciate that. I thought so myself, and Lady Alice certainly tried her best to hint me away from any thought of it… Well, I supposed nothing would ever come of it. But you see, Katherine, his kindness is… somewhat extensive. All that riding you do together, and you cannot be talking about mills and such like the whole time, not to mention his determination to see you dance. And then… well, I will tell you something that I have not divulged to a single soul, but there was an additional reason why I wanted to send you to Helmsley for a while. I wondered, you see, if a man who had fallen into a habit of companionship with you might find, when you were not there, that he missed you more than he thought, and that therefore… well, I hoped he might go down to Helmsley to see you, and he did , Katherine, he did! And no sooner are you returned to us than there he is on the doorstep again, the very picture of an anxious friend.”

“Aunt, I do not think—”

“I know, dear,” she said, patting Katherine’s hand gently. “You do not want to get your hopes up. But still, this evening is an opportunity to… well, to see how the land lies, so to speak. You need do nothing special, and indeed, I do not think you have any tricks in your arsenal, so innocent as you are. You need only be yourself, my dear, and we shall see what happens tonight, and of course, his rank is so much higher than yours, despite the recent turn in events, that perhaps it is a little ambitious still. But you would be so well suited, with his interest in mills and other subjects that most gentlemen would not at all wish to speak of. Indeed, most gentlemen would be repelled by your background, I make no bones in saying to you. But not Mr Kent Atherton, and if you could secure him, it would be such a triumph, would it not? The son of an earl! It is more than I aspire to for my own girls, as you know. So I want to give him every opportunity to become closer to you, and then we shall see, shall we not?”

This conversation terrified Katherine. She had so looked forward to the evening, and now she discovered that her aunt was expecting her to ‘secure’ Kent — somehow, for she had no ‘tricks in her arsenal’ , as she put it. She could not flirt, still less could she dissemble. She had grown comfortable enough with Kent that she no longer blushed furiously when he was nearby, but if she thought there was the slightest possibility that he could return her regard, even in the smallest degree, she would be reduced to incoherent stammering again. She wished her aunt had said nothing at all.

But in the event, the evening passed off without the least discomfort. She was the focus of everyone’s attention, naturally, since the purpose of the dinner was to celebrate her return from Helmsley, but after everyone had congratulated her formally as they arrived, there was no undue attention. She was not quite allowed to melt into the background, as she might have wished, for there was always someone at her side. Yet she did not feel awkward at all, for these were all her friends, and apart from her aunt and uncle, all her own age. They teased her gently about bolsters and pretended they were now terrified to get on the wrong side of her, and she found she did not mind a bit.

At dinner, through some fairly transparent manoeuvring by her aunt, she found Kent sitting beside her, to guarantee her pleasure in the meal. Afterwards, all the young people played a boisterous round game of cards, Kent keeping everyone in a ripple of laughter. He was so much fun! Always teasing and joking, and in the kindest way, raising everyone’s spirits. No one could be downhearted when he was in the room. He smiled at everyone, but was it just her imagination that saw some additional warmth in his eyes when he looked at her? She was almost sure of it, and for the first time she allowed herself just a sliver of hope.

It was altogether the happiest occasion she could remember since Papa had died. For the first time since she had left Branton, she felt as if she belonged.