Cousin Kate

He spurred forward to meet the two riders who were cantering towards them, and Kate heard him call out: “Dolly!” and saw him lean forward to clasp the hand of a very pretty girl. Following at a more sedate pace, she had the leisure to observe the Templecombes. She judged them to be brother and sister, for there was a strong likeness between them, and although there was also considerable disparity of age the man was certainly not old enough to be the girl’s father. Kate judged him to be in his late twenties; the girl, she thought, was not out of her teens. As she came up to them, she saw that the child was blushing adorably, and drew her own conclusions. Then Torquil turned his head, and summoned her to be introduced. “Kate, here is Miss Templecombe! And her brother! Dolly— Gurney, this is my cousin, Kate!—Miss Malvern!”

Mr Templecombe bowed, sweeping off his modish hat; his sister smiled shyly, murmuring something about being “so pleased!” and Torquil, not allowing her time to say more, instantly intervened, saying, with a slight stammer: “How is this? I had supposed you to be in London! Has your come-out been postponed?”

“No—oh, no! But we don’t go to London until the end of the month!” replied Miss Templecombe, in a soft little voice. “When the balls will be in full swing!” said Kate, smiling at her. “Does your mama mean to present you, Miss Templecombe?”

“Yes—and I am to wear a hoop, and feathers!” disclosed Miss Templecombe.

“Antiquated, ain’t it?” said her brother. “Can’t see, myself, why females set so much store by these Drawing-rooms. Or why,” he added, with feeling, “they should wish to be escorted to ’em! Y’know, Miss Malvern, you have to rig yourself out in fancy-dress! No, no, I’m not bamming you! Knee-breeches, and chapeau-bras! Give you my word! Orders, too! Not that I have any, but don’t it all go to show?”

“Oh, Gurney!” remonstrated his sister. “As though you hadn’t worn precisely the same dress at Almack’s!”

“The only time I ever went to Almack’s,” returned Mr Templecombe, “was on the occasion of my own come- out, Dolly, and I’ll be vastly obliged to you if you don’t recall it to my memory!” He shuddered eloquently. “The most insipid evening I ever spent in all my life!” he declared impressively. “Nothing to drink but lemonade or weak orgeat, and I sank myself beneath reproach—oh, fathoms beneath reproach!—by inviting a girl in her first season to stand up with me for the waltz! You may imagine the looks that were cast at me!”

“I can, of course,” admitted Kate, “though I’ve never been to Almack’s. I’ve never been presented either, so if you are thinking of asking my advice on the management of your hoop, I’m afraid you will miss the cushion!”

“Oh, no! Mama will show me, just as she showed my sisters,” said Miss Templecombe simply. “And they all three made good marriages!”

Kate glanced apprehensively at Torquil, wondering how he would receive this naive remark. He did not appear to have paid the least heed to it: his eyes were ardently devouring Dorothea’s exquisite countenance, and there was a smile on his lips. Kate could not forbear the thought that they were a singularly beautiful couple, and stole a look at Mr Templecombe’s face. It told her nothing, but she had a feeling that he did not view the very obvious attachment with complaisance. As though to lend colour to this presentiment, he pulled out his watch, exclaiming: “Dolly, if we don’t make haste, Mama will be sending out a search-party! “Servant, Miss Malvern! Yours, Torquil!”

“Oh, we’ll go along with you!” said Torquil, wheeling his horse. He said, over his shoulder, tossing the words at Kate: “You’ve no objection, coz, have you?”

“No, none. And much good it would do me if I had!” she added.

Torquil did not hear her, but Gurney Templecombe did, and burst out laughing. Ranging alongside her, he remarked quizzically: “Well said, ma’am!”

“I’m afraid it was very ill said!” she confessed, “It fell on the wrong ears! And I know, of course, that every allowance ought to be made for him. My aunt tells me that he is not at all robust, besides suffering from severe migraines, so that it’s no wonder he should be a trifle spoilt.”

“Mm, yes! Handsome boy, ain’t he?” drawled Gurney, looking after the young couple with a frown in his sleepy eyes. “Much better-looking than Philip, I suppose, though for my money—” He stopped, seeing that she was puzzled, and said: “Are you acquainted with Philip Broome, ma’am?”

“No, who is he?”

Torquil’s cousin. Friend of mine!” he answered. “Beg pardon, but I don’t perfectly understand! You can’t be a Broome, surely? Well, what I mean is, never heard Philip speak of you!”

“Oh, no, I’m not a Broome! Lady Broome was my father’s half-sister,” she explained. “But owing to a quarrel in the family I didn’t meet her until last week, when she invited me to visit Staplewood.”

“Invited you to—Did she, by Jove!” he said, surprised. “I wonder why—” He broke off, reddening, and giving an embarrassed cough. “Forgotten what I was going to say!”

“You were going to say that you wonder why she did invite me,” she supplied. “Torquil said the same, yesterday, and I wonder what you both mean! She invited me out of compassion, knowing me to be a destitute orphan—and I can never be sufficiently grateful to her!”

He stammered: “No, indeed! Just so! Shouldn’t think you could! Well, what I mean is—Did you say destitute, ma’am?”

“Forced to earn my bread!” she declared dramatically. She saw that he was quite horrified, and gave a gurgle of laughter.

“You’re shamming it!” he accused her.

“I’m not, but you’ve no need to look aghast, I promise you! To be sure, I didn’t precisely enjoy being a governess, but there are many worse fates. Or so I’ve been told!”

“Yes—well, stands to reason! Though when I think of the pranks m’sisters used to play, and how m’mother always blamed the wretched female who had ’em in charge—well, are there worse fates?”

“Between ourselves, sir, no!”

“Thought as much.” He was struck by a sudden idea, and added admiringly: “Y’know, you’re a very unusual girl, Miss Malvern!”

Chapter V

They parted from the Templecombes where the lane leading to Staplewood branched off the pike road. As they rode away, Torquil said, with a sidelong look: “You needn’t say anything to my mother, you know. Not that it signifies! Whalley will tell her fast enough!”

“If you mean that he will tell her we met Mr and Miss Templecombe, I am heartily glad of it!” said Kate directly. “I don’t at all wish to deceive my aunt. Why don’t you wish her to know?”

“She don’t like Dolly,” he answered shortly. “Doesn’t mean me to marry her. That’s why she won’t let me go to London.”

“Well, you are rather young to be thinking of marriage, aren’t you?” she suggested reasonably. “I daresay you won’t find her opposed to the match in another few years’ time. Tell me, who are the Templecombes, and what are they?”

“Perfectly respectable!” he said, firing up.

“That was obvious. I meant, what does the family consist of!”

He was instantly mollified. “Oh, I see! They are landowners, like ourselves. Lady Templecombe is a widow, and Gurney is her only son. She’s bird-witted! a silly widgeon, who lets herself be nose-led by Gurney. And he is nose-led by my dear, dear cousin Philip!”

She was startled by the suppressed venom in his voice, but said matter-of-factly: “Yes, he spoke of your cousin Philip. He seemed surprised that I had never heard of him. Tell me about him!”

“Philip, dear Kate, is my father’s nephew, and, after me, the heir to Papa’s titles and estates. He is also my chief enemy. Oh, yes, I assure you! All the narrow escapes from death I’ve had have occurred when he has been staying at Staplewood!”

She could only gasp. He threw her a bright, flickering smile, and said chattily: “Oh, yes! A copestone once fell