Page 26 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

I t took a full day of travel to reach York, and a tedious day it was too. Apart from the usual travails of any journey in the autumn, consisting largely of unremitting rain and a vast amount of mud, Kent had the dubious pleasure of the company of James Cathcart, as well as the two valets. Cathcart was usually good company, but he was not his usual ebullient self, and Kent himself could not summon his habitual cheerfulness. He was too distressed about Katy, wondering whether she was in York at all.

Just north of Easingwold, they were delayed for some time by a coach off the road some way ahead. Having discovered the hapless occupants had plenty of willing helpers from a nearby farm and two other carriages passing by, there was nothing to do but return to their own carriage and wait for the road to be clear again. Kent had thought to provide himself with a flask of brandy, which warmed their insides even if their fingers and toes remained frozen, and the atmosphere mellowed somewhat.

“I cannot but think we are worrying unnecessarily,” Cathcart said. “Even if this man is not Cousin Kate’s brother, he cannot mean her any harm, surely? It would be her money he wants, not her person.”

“But he can obtain her money more surely by marrying her,” Kent said.

“Yet he has not approached her as a suitor.”

“That would take a long time to gain the trust of Miss Parish herself and also her uncle and aunt. But if he claims to be her brother, he can whisk her away from their protection and then… who knows what he might do? Gretna, perhaps.”

“Dear Lord! Then she might be in the gravest danger!”

“Precisely.”

Cathcart fell silent. When they moved off again, he said hesitantly, “Look, Atherton, I hope I did not offend you yesterday… suggesting you had no right to take care of Kate. I believe in this case you mean her well.”

“When have I ever not meant her well?” Kent said sharply, as the two valets studiously gazed out of the window and pretended to be invisible.

“That is between the two of you,” Cathcart said, not looking him in the eye, “but I know you made her unhappy. Whatever happened, it made her read her Bible a great deal, even more than usual, and she often looked as if she had been crying. Perhaps you did not mean to, but you hurt her badly, and if you want my honest opinion, I think she is better off without you. But I can see that you truly care about her, so it is right that you should help to rescue her… if she needs rescuing.”

Kent felt anew all the pain of their disagreement. He had hurt her… made her cry… and it was the very last thing he had ever wanted to do. “Perhaps she is better off without me,” he said in a low voice. “I am trying to be a better man, but… it is hard to change ways that have become ingrained over the years.” A dreadful thought occurred to him. “Are you… do you… I mean, is there… something between the two of you? I would not for the world interfere if—”

Cathcart gave a wry smile. “I like her very well. I would even say that I admire her. I thought her too timid and mouse-like at first, but that night at Corland when you danced the reel with her, I saw then that she could be brought out of her shell. And she is beautiful! That gown she wore — so simple, and yet elegant. But my mother rang such a peal over me! I am the eldest, you see, so I am supposed to marry money and prop up Father’s meagre finances, since he failed to do so. I am not supposed to fall in love with an impoverished cousin.”

“And have you?”

“No. I could do so, believe me, if she had thirty thousand to her name, but not for a mere fifteen.”

“Fifteen? How do you know that?”

“Ten thousand from this Branton fellow, remember? And her mother would have had the same dowry as my mother, since they were sisters. Five thousand in that trust fund of hers, that is all. Not enough for me and not enough for you, either, I wager. But perhaps your father will fund you.”

Oddly, this conversation cheered Kent enormously. Fifteen thousand would bring in… perhaps seven hundred or so a year, and another hundred from Ridwell. That was enough to live on, with care. A manservant, a cook and a couple of maids. Perhaps a gig, although in town they might not need it. Even without his allowance from his father, he and Katy could—

Such foolishness! He would never be able to marry her, for she would never forgive him.

***

K atherine could not say at what point she began to suspect that all was not as it should be about her brother. There was no single moment of revelation, merely an unease that began as soon as she knew she was to leave the safety of her uncle’s house to go to York with him, and slowly grew with every hour that passed. She remembered clearly the words of Bertram Atherton — ‘ Can you be sure he truly is your brother? Anyone could just appear and say he was Harold Parish.’ And yet, how would anyone know there was any such man, unless he truly was that man? And why would he appear now, so long after he was believed dead? He remembered details of their childhood that she herself had forgotten — like the balloon ascension! She had not seen it herself, but he had described it excitedly to her afterwards, and talked about it so many times. No, he must be her brother.

Still, she could not be easy about it. His loss of memory was very convenient, for it absolved him from remembering anything personal of their shared childhood, their home, or parents. There was not one detail he volunteered that she could point to and think, ‘There! That proves it, for no one else could have known that.’ And there were oddities, too. He had been lost overboard during the Battle of Cape St Vincent, off the southern tip of Portugal, yet he claimed to have ended up in a French fishing village. He had been there for ten years, although he had acquired not a word of French. It was all very unsettling.

Yet he seemed to have plenty of money, and they were staying in a very luxurious hotel in York. Each morning, they viewed houses available to rent, and each evening discussed the advantages and deficiencies of each one. There was no rush, Harold said. They could take their time to find just the perfect house. She did not much care for Harold’s valet, a dour-faced man who said little, and those few words in an impenetrable accent, but she had Daisy with her, whose excitement at being in York was infectious.

In the afternoons, Harold went off alone to deal with what he described as ‘business matters’ , which Katherine took to be banks and attorneys, and establishing himself in the town. She passed the time by shopping with Daisy, or else stayed in their comfortable parlour beside the fire, reading.

On the third day in York, the rain pattering persistently on the windowpanes, the maid came in to tell her that a man wished to see her. The card she handed Katherine was for a Mr John Nesbitt, attorney-at-law.

“It will be about one of the houses we viewed,” Katherine said. “Show him up, Molly.”

Mr Nesbitt was a neatly dressed man of around forty, who greeted Katherine politely, accepted a glass of sherry and took the opposite chair beside the fire.

“I am glad to find you on your own, Miss Parish, because I wanted to ask you a question without your brother’s presence. I understand he has recently returned after many years’ absence, and has no papers to prove his identity.”

“Surely he has his discharge papers from the navy,” Katherine said, in some surprise.

“No. He was unable to furnish me with any such documents. But as his sister, you will be able to vouch for him, I am sure. You will be able to assure me that this man is indeed your long-lost brother.”

Katherine hesitated. “Why do you need my assurance? I am sure his money is sufficient assurance to rent a house.”

“Renting a house? No, that was not his business with me, Miss Parish. Now that he has returned, he wishes to claim his share of the inheritance. There is a large trust fund, I understand? Naturally, I cannot undertake such work unless I am confident that the gentleman is who he says he is. I advised him to go to his home town — Branton, is it not? — and find someone there who recognises him. That is the sensible thing to do, but he seemed reluctant. So you are the only one who can vouch for him.”

“I? But I have not seen him since I was six years old, and that only briefly. I was but four when he left home to join the navy. I cannot confirm his identity, not beyond all doubt. He must go to Branton.”

“Ah! That is as I thought. Then I beg your pardon for intruding, Miss Parish, and wish you and your brother a happy residence in this wonderful town of ours.”

Katherine sank back into her chair in some perplexity. Why would Harold think her trust fund was a large one? Would he even be entitled to a share of it? It would depend on the terms under which it was drawn up, she supposed. And why did he have no discharge papers from the navy? The Admiralty would have ensured he had some documents, and perhaps a pension, too. When he was thought to be lost, there had been any number of official letters from Vice-Admiral this and Commodore that.

And none of it reassured her that he was, in fact, her brother. If only her uncle and aunt had not been so quick to send her away! But they had been happy to pass the responsibility to her brother. Perhaps, despite all the kind words, they were glad to be rid of her, the unwanted poor relation, taken in out of kindness but sent off with a sigh of relief as soon as another relation turned up. And even he did not want her, only her trust fund, meagre as it was.

At that moment, she felt small and abandoned and very unhappy, and she knew precisely what she needed to raise her spirits — Kent would cheer her up, with his perpetual smile, his sunny outlook on life, his gentle kisses. The man she had betrayed and rejected. She would never see him again, now, and she could not imagine a drearier prospect than a lifetime without him.

Thunderous steps on the stairs, voices outside the room, the door thrust open… and by some miracle, he was there! It was as if she had conjured him out of her own imagination. She needed him and there he was, wearing the widest smile she had ever seen.

“Kent! Oh, Kent!”

She tore across the room and hurled herself into his arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck and pulling his head down to hers. His lips… oh glory, his lips were on hers, he was kissing her frenziedly, pulling her tight against him so that she was almost rocked off her feet. But she was safe in his embrace. Nothing could worry her now, for Kent would look after her. She leaned into him, and let that wonderful kiss linger on and on…

No! Whatever was she doing? Shocked, she pushed herself away from him and backed across the room, her hands covering her still tingling lips.

“I beg your pardon,” she whispered. “So sorry… never meant… so very sorry.”

“No, no,” he said gently, smiling at her. “You must not apologise for so lovely a welcome. Indeed, I am tempted to go out and come in again, just to have you kiss me like that once more. Will you, Katy? Will you kiss me again? Please?”

As he spoke, he was inching across the room towards her. Now he was so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. He cupped her face in his hands.

“Kiss me, please , Katy.”

How could she possibly refuse him? She laid her hands on his chest, the wool of his greatcoat damp from the rain, and lifted her face to his. This time, his kiss was gentle and tender, as it had been at the tower. His fingers entwined with her hair and his other hand was around her waist, holding her snugly against him. It felt utterly right.

After a while, she sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Is all well with you, Katy?” he murmured into the top of her head.

“All is very well with me now.”

“This man… he did not… alarm you? Hurt you?”

“No. But I think he is not my brother. He has been talking to an attorney about getting a share of my trust fund.” She lifted her head to look him in the eye. “How do you come to be here? You went away somewhere, and out of nowhere, just when I needed you, there you were. How did that happen?”

“I went to Branton and met all your friends and saw your wonderful beam engines and even got myself a job.”

“As an engineer?”

“I am not qualified for that. I am to be general manager for Mr Ridwell at Longfarley Mill. And… Katy, your house is still unoccupied. I might even rent it. I have to live somewhere, and it would be wonderful to be in the same house where you grew up.”

“Oh! I should like to think of you living there.”

“You could live there, too. If… if we were married.”

Her insides turned over in the most alarming way. “Kent, are you… I mean… is this… a proposal?” He nodded, a strange look on his face, almost as if he were afraid of her answer. “Then you have forgiven me?”

He looked startled. “Forgiven you? For what?”

“For betraying you to Sir Hubert. That was so foolish of me, and—”

“No, no! You were quite right. It was drastic, perhaps, but it needed that to make me see that I could not go on as I had done. So I went to Branton. Katy— Do you mind me calling you Katy? Everyone at Branton called you that, so—”

“No, I love it.”

He gave her a little squeeze, bestowing one of his widest smiles on her that warmed her to the tips of her slippers. “Katy, it is I who must beg your forgiveness. I have been—”

For answer, she placed one finger on his lips. “Hush. That is all forgotten, all in the past. Did you mean it? Talking about marriage, I mean.”

“Of course I meant it. Will you marry me, Katy? I have not much to offer you, but—”

“Hush,” she said again. “I will marry you, but I have not much to offer you, either. We shall have to budget carefully.”

The door opened again, to admit another familiar face.

“James! You here too?”

“There you are, Cousin Kate, and… well, you are in safe hands, I see. Yes, yes, do not glare at me, Atherton, but we need to be ready when this impostor returns. Has Atherton told you, Kate? About the newspaper cutting?”

Katherine blushed, and it was Kent who chuckled and said, “We have been too pleasurably engaged to discuss that. Cathcart, will you see that Katy’s maid sets about packing, and ensure there are carriages enough ready for us in… shall we say, two hours? Then we shall await this fellow’s return.”

“I shall arrange everything.” And so saying, James disappeared, leaving Katherine alone with Kent once more.

She sighed. “Kent, will you marry me soon? I am tired of bouncing around from one house to another. All I want now is a home of my own, with you. I want you never to leave me.”

Her voice wobbled alarmingly, but he pulled her close, and kissed her forehead so softly she barely felt the touch of his lips. “It would be the greatest privilege of my life to take care of you always, Katy, my love. My wonderful Katy, who is turning me into an honest, upright citizen. One day, I may even be worthy of you, my dearest.”

“I love you so much it hurts,” she whispered.

“I know what you mean,” he whispered back. “It is just the same for me, too. But we are together now. We will always be together, my darling love.”

***

K ent had arranged the little parlour carefully. Katy and Daisy sat on either side of the fire, Kent was at the table pretending to read a newspaper, while James prowled restlessly around the room. But eventually there were footsteps outside, the door opened and there he was. The man pretending to be Harold Parish.

He was rather a handsome fellow, that was Kent’s first thought. The right age, the fair colouring, the blue eyes, just as described in the newspaper. Kent had shown the cutting to Katy, and she had exclaimed in horror at the amount of detail it revealed about her family.

“No wonder we were all taken in,” she murmured.

Now she watched him calmly, having accepted that he was a complete stranger who had tried to help himself to her money. And if that had failed, perhaps he would have tried something worse. Kent had wished to spare her the most sordid of the possibilities, but she guessed much of it. A hasty marriage would have given him full access to her fortune.

The impostor was smiling as he entered, but seeing James Cathcart and Kent there, the smile slipped a little. “Visitors? I wasn’t aware you had any acquaintance in York, sister dear.”

“Allow me to introduce them to you. This is my future husband, Mr Kent Atherton, son of the Earl of Rennington, and my cousin, Mr James Cathcart. I am afraid I cannot introduce you in return, for I have not the least idea who you are.”

The smile was entirely gone now, replaced with a nervous wariness. “Why, sister, how can you say so? Gentlemen, I’m Harold Parish.”

“I think not,” Kent said, smiling. He produced the newspaper cutting and laid it on the table. “I believe you read this and decided to take advantage of an innocent young lady by relieving her of her money.”

“Nonsense! We’re going to set up house and—”

“So why are you asking attorneys to help you claim my trust fund?” Katy said sweetly.

“I’m your brother! I’m entitled to it… half of it, anyway.”

“If you were truly Miss Parish’s brother,” Kent said, “you would go to Branton and find someone who remembers you and can vouch for you. But you have avoided Branton, have you not? Very smart of you, because your little scheme would be uncovered instantly. I think you—”

With shocking suddenness, the man bolted for the door, where he found the solid form of James Cathcart blocking his way.

“What shall we do with him?” Cathcart said, holding the struggling man easily. “Break his legs?”

The man squeaked, and the carefully modulated accent vanished. “It weren’t my idea, honest! It were me cousin made me do it.”

“The fellow masquerading as your valet?” Cathcart said. “He is already locked up in the cellar. Cousin Kate, you may decide this miscreant’s future. Broken legs or the magistrate?”

“Not the broken legs,” she said. “Violence should be a last resort, James.”

“Pity,” he said. “The magistrate, then. He will be transported, at least, I should think.”

The man squeaked again. “Please… I never meant no harm, just trying to make a living. Bin using my own money to fund everything, so I’m well out of pocket.”

“That is a good point,” Katy said gravely. “I have had a pleasant visit to York, which I have never seen before, so I am not minded to be harsh. But you must never do anything like this again… what is your name, anyway?”

“Jim Baring,” he whispered.

“Where are you from?”

“Lancaster.”

“Where the newspaper article was printed,” Kent said. “Well, Jim Baring, if you will write a confession detailing who you are, how you and your cousin came by the idea and admitting that it was all a take-in, we shall let you both go.”

He nodded eagerly. Kent produced the paper, pen and ink laid out ready for this eventuality, and Baring laboriously wrote his confession, while Kent leaned over him, watching every word and suggesting additions. When he was satisfied, he nodded.

“Very well. Off you go, and get your cousin out of the cellar. You will want to get back to Lancaster as soon as may be, I dare say, but remember to pay your shot before you leave the hotel.”

With a quick nod, he scuttled away.

“An excellent day’s work,” Kent said in satisfaction. “No blood spilt, not a penny piece lost to the fraud, Katy unharmed, and a confession extracted from the villain of his own free will. Captain Edgerton would be proud of us.”