Cousin Kate

“Ah, yes!” said Philip, bowing slightly. “Cousin Kate!”

“I don’t think I can claim even remote kinship with you, sir,” she retorted, nettled by his tone.

“Can’t you? Why not?”

“I am merely Lady Broome’s half-niece. I can only be, at the best—or worst—a connexion of yours!”

This flash of spirit seemed to amuse him; a reluctant smile warmed his eyes; he said: “Bravo!”

“Philip, have you seen my father?” interrupted Torquil.

“No, not yet: Pennymore tells me that he’s not in very plump currant, and doesn’t leave his room until noon. Tenby is helping him to dress, so I came to find you instead.”

“Oh, yes! I’m glad you did: I have so much to tell you!”

Kate went quietly out of the room, her mind in turmoil. Although she had not believed that he could be responsible for the various accidents which had befallen Torquil, she had had no doubt that Torquil hated him, and she had been prepared to dislike him. But Torquil had astonished her by welcoming him with real pleasure; and she did not dislike him. He had given her every reason to do so; but when she had seen him standing in the doorway she had received the instant impression that she beheld a man in whom one could place one’s trust, without fearing to be betrayed. Then she had read the contempt in his eyes, and she had been as much shocked as enraged. What right, she asked herself, had he to despise her? What cause had she ever given him? How dared he? she silently demanded, lashing herself into a fury.

It was in this mood of burning chagrin that she encountered Lady Broome, halfway up the stairs. Lady Broome barred her progress, laying a hand on her arm, and saying, with a lightness at variance with the keen glance she directed at her face: “Whither away, Kate? You look to be out of reason cross! Can it be that Mr Philip Broome has set up your hackles? Oh, yes! I know that he has descended on us, and I am heartily sorry for it! We go on very much better without him. Don’t you like him?”

“No, ma’am, I do not!” replied Kate, with undue vehemence. I—I think him an—an odious person!”

“Do you? Well, so do I—to give you the word with no bark on it! But it won’t do to say so, you know: Sir Timothy dotes on him! His influence is one which I have always deprecated. He is a man of large ambitions, one of which, unless I much mistake the matter, is to succeed to the title and the estates. When I tell you that one life only stands between him and the realization of his ambition, you won’t be astonished that I should regard him with—how shall I put it—dread was the word which sprang to my tongue, but perhaps that is a little too strong! I’ll say, instead, apprehension.”

Kate regarded her with painful intensity. “Torquil told me once, ma’am, that all the accidents which had befallen him occurred when his cousin was staying at Staplewood. I didn’t believe that Mr Philip Broome could have been responsible for any of them, but—but was he?”

Lady Broome seemed to hesitate before replying: “It is hard to see how he could have been. You will not mention this, if you please!”

“No, ma’am,” Kate said obediently. She lingered, frowning, and then said, turning her eyes once more upon her aunt: “But I don’t understand! I had supposed Torquil to hold his cousin in—in positive hatred, but when he saw him, just now, he was glad!”

“Was he? Well, that doesn’t surprise me as much as it seems to have surprised you, my dear! Torquil is a creature of moods! He was used, when a child, to adore Philip, and I daresay some of that old feeling remains. Depend upon it, he will have come to cuffs with him before the day is out!”

He did not do so, but it was easy to see that his mood underwent a change, becoming steadily more uncertain as the day wore on. For this, Kate considered, Dr Delabole was a good deal to blame, for when Torquil dragged his cousin off to the stables he found an excuse to accompany them, showing, she thought, a sad want of tact. Nothing could have been more exactly calculated to set up Torquil’s back! He told the doctor, very rudely, that he was not wanted, and it had been Philip’s intervention which had averted an explosion. Philip had recommended him to try for a little conduct, and although he had flushed up to the roots of his hair he had subsided. It was obvious that he stood greatly in awe of Philip, which was not, thought Kate, at all surprising. It was a case of the weak character yielding to the strong: just as Lady Broome could with one word quell a sudden spurt of temper, so too could Philip.

When the party assembled for dinner, Sir Timothy came in leaning on Philip’s arm. He was pathetically glad to see his nephew again, speaking fondly to him, and regarding him with a mixture of pride and affection. Kate could not wonder at it, for the affection was clearly mutual, and Philip treated him with the deference which was almost wholly impossible to find in his son. The contrast between the man and the boy was painful: Torquil was beautiful, but his manners were those of a spoiled child. Towards his social inferiors he was arrogant, and although he was civil to his father and mother, his civility was grudging. Kate had never been able to discover a trace of affection in him for either of his parents, and had again and again been shocked by his indifference. He was obedient to his mother only because he feared her; his father he largely ignored. His temper was quite uncontrolled: the least thing would cause him to fly up into the boughs; and he could sulk for days. Philip, on the other hand, had good manners, and if his countenance was stern he had only to smile to make it easy to see why Sir Timothy loved him. There was nothing of the dandy in his appearance, but he dressed with a neatness and a propriety which cast into strong and unflattering relief Torquil’s negligent style.

Sir Timothy, when Kate came into the room, welcomed her with a smile, and an outstretched hand. “Ah, here she is!” he said. “Come here, my dear, and let me make my nephew known to you!”

“I have already had the honour of making Miss Malvern’s acquaintance, sir.”

“Oh, that is too bad! I had promised myself the pleasure of introducing you to her. She is our good angel—a ray of sunshine in the house!”

Philip bowed, politely. Kate, a good deal embarrassed, took the frail hand held out to her, but said: “Thank you, sir! You are a great deal too kind, but you are putting me to the blush. Besides, if you make me out to be beyond the common, Mr Broome will be disappointed!”

“By no means, Miss Malvern! I think you quite beyond the common.”

“Mr Broome—Miss Malvern!—What is all this formality?” asked Sir Timothy playfully. “Let me tell you, Philip, that we have decided that she shall be Cousin Kate!”

“Well, sir, I did so address her, but she refused to acknowledge the relationship.” He turned his head towards Lady Broome. “I understand she is your half-niece, Minerva?”

“My half-brother’s only child,” she answered shortly.

“Just so! I own I haven’t worked out the exact degree of our relationship, but she informs me that—at the worst—we can only be connections!”

“Oh, pooh! no need to stand upon points!” said Sir Timothy, brushing the objection aside. He smiled up at Kate, as she stood beside his chair. “She is the daughter of my old age, and that makes her your cousin.”

Kate could only be thankful that Pennymore chose at this moment to announce dinner. Sir Timothy, struggling to rise from his chair, found a strong hand under his elbow, and said: “Thank you, my boy. Not as steady on my pins as I was used to be! Now, if you’ll lend me your arm, we’ll go down to dinner.”

It occurred forcibly to Kate that Torquil’s support had been neither offered nor requested. He was lounging by one of the windows, his brow overcast; and it was not until Lady Broome called upon him to escort her that he was roused from abstraction. He got up, but muttered disagreeably that he wondered why she chose to go down on his arm rather than Matthew’s.

While Kate sat in her usual place at the dinner-table, on Sir Timothy’s right, Mr Philip Broome, was on his left; an arrangement that brought them opposite each other. It seemed to her that whenever she looked up she found that he was watching her, until at last, considerably ruffled, she tried to stare him down. She might have succeeded if the absurdity of it had not struck her, and made her utter an involuntary chuckle. Then, as this drew everyone’s attention to her, she lowered her gaze to her plate, and replied, in answer to her aunt’s demand to know what had amused her: “Nothing, ma’am: I beg your pardon!”

Torquil, who had been pushing the food about on his plate, thrust it away suddenly, and said: “Philip, will you play billiards after dinner?”

Philip looked at him under his brows, frowning a little. “Yes, if you wish,” he replied.

“Well, I do wish! I’m tired of playing with Matthew: he always lets me win. And Kate is a wretched player!”