Cousin Kate

“Exactly so!” he said. “But they are not concerned with your welfare!”

“Oh, no! I daresay most of them don’t know I exist!”

“It is precisely that circumstance which, in Minerva’s eyes, makes you a desirable wife for Torquil.”

He spoke with deliberation, and her eyes widened a little, searching his face. The vague uneasiness which troubled her deepened; she said carefully: “I collect that you think that my aunt might try to—to constrain me—to force me to marry Torquil, but I promise you it isn’t so! It was only a suggestion! I have told her that I shall never do so, and, although she has begged me to think it over, I am persuaded she realizes that I shan’t change my mind.”

As though urged by some inner impulse, he grasped both her hands, and held them in a compelling grip, saying harshly: “Kate, go away from this place! On no account must you marry Torquil!”

“Well, of course I must not!” she returned, slightly amused. “Even if I weren’t too old for him, he isn’t fit to be married!”

“Why do you say that?” he asked quickly.

“Good God!” she exclaimed. “Surely you must be aware that he hasn’t yet outgrown the schoolboy? He hasn’t learnt to control his temper, for one thing! The least check makes him ride rusty. As for forming a lasting attachment, fiddle! I daresay it may be years before he does so. At the moment he is inclined to fancy himself in love with me, but he was fancying himself in love with Miss Templecombe when I first came here, and it was only when he heard of her engagement that he transferred his affections to me. Would you care to lay odds against his transferring them yet again if some reasonably pretty girl were to appear in the neighbourhood? Of course you would not!”

He released her hands. “Of course I would not,” he agreed, and sat heavily frowning at the ground between his forearms, which he had laid along his spread legs, his hands clasped between his knees.

In some perplexity Kate looked at his down-bent head, and said: “You don’t wish Torquil to be married, do you, sir?” She waited for a reply, but he only shook his head. She continued: “Why not? I can readily understand that you would not wish him to marry an adventuress, but I have the oddest feeling that you would oppose his marriage to anyone. You have told me that you don’t covet his inheritance, and I believe you don’t indeed. But I cannot feel that you hold him dear, so—so why, Mr Broome?”

He glanced up at that, wryly smiling, and said: “Oh, no! I refuse to be Mr Broome— Cousin Kate!”

“You know very well that I am not your cousin!” she said.

“I know that you refused to acknowledge the relationship! What was it you said?—at the worst you could only be a connection of mine! Excessively rag-mannered I thought you!”

She gave a gurgle of laughter. “You must own that you earned it!”

“Oh, I do!” he answered.

“That is a great concession,” he said. “I am very conscious of it—Cousin Philip! But I would have you know that I cut my wisdoms a long time ago, and I am well aware that you are fobbing me off. You have not answered my question.”

“I can’t answer it. If I were to disclose to you, or to anyone, my reason for opposing Torquil’s marriage—No, I can’t do it! I am not even perfectly sure that there is a reason.” He rose jerkily. “Come! we have sat here for long enough, Kate! Minerva will be wondering what can have become of you.”

She privately thought this unlikely, but when she encountered her aunt presently, Lady Broome said: “Oh, there you are! Dear child, I have been looking for you all over!”

Surprised, Kate said: “But you told me, ma’am, that you were going to be engaged with the bailiff! I’ve been in the shrubbery.”

“Yes, so Sidlaw informed me. With Mr Philip Broome!”

“Yes, certainly. Did Sidlaw inform you of that too, ma’am?” asked Kate, a trifle ruffled.

“To be sure she did! Oh, don’t take a pet, my love! She only told me because I asked her if she had seen you anywhere! Such a scold as she gave me for letting you wander about alone!”

“Good heavens! What harm did she imagine could befall me? Besides, I wasn’t alone: Mr Broome was with me, and she knew that, didn’t she?”

“Yes, dearest, and of course she didn’t imagine any harm would befall you! But she is very prudish, and she thought it right to nudge me on to warn you not to permit Philip to sit with you in the shrubbery!”

“I should think she must be quite Gothic,” said Kate, beginning to be very angry indeed.

Lady Broome laughed, and grimaced. “Indeed she is! But she was right in this instance: it isn’t the thing for a young female to jaunter about with a single gentleman, you know!”

“I am afraid I don’t know it, Aunt Minerva,” said Kate, in a dangerously quiet voice. “I have yet to learn that there is the smallest impropriety in walking, sitting, or even jauntering about with a single gentleman. And I cannot help wondering why, if you don’t think it the thing, you encourage me to go out with Torquil.”

“That is a little different, my dear: Torquil is your cousin, and—as you have said—only a boy. Philip is another matter, and is not, I fancy, to be trusted to keep the line.”

“Is it possible that you suspect me of flirting with Mr Broome?” inquired Kate. “Let me assure you that I haven’t the faintest wish to flirt with him!”

“Or with anyone, I hope!” said Lady Broome playfully.

“Oh, as to that, there’s no saying!” replied Kate coolly.

“Naughty puss!” said her ladyship, pinching her cheek. “I perceive that Sidlaw was right when she gave me a scold for not looking after you better!”

“Not at all!” returned Kate. “I’m not a green girl, or a romp, and I am very well able to look after myself. And if she thought Mr Philip Broome was in the petticoat line she must be a great goose-cap! Pray set her anxious mind at rest, dear ma’am! He shows no disposition to flirt with me!”

“Oh, tut-tut!” said Lady Broome. “Don’t pull caps with me, you foolish child! You are not so very old, you know, and even though you are neither a green girl nor a romp, you are not yet as much up to snuff as you think you are. A pretty thing it would be if I didn’t look after you! There, give me a kiss to show me that I’m forgiven!”

Melting, Kate embraced her warmly. “As though there were anything to forgive!” she said, not without difficulty, for the words stuck in her throat.

The entrance into the hall of Pennymore, bearing the post-bag, relieved her embarrassment. Lady Broome took it from him; and, with a kindly smile, told Kate to run upstairs to put off her hat. A nuncheon, she said, had been set out in the Blue saloon; and, unless Kate wished to wound the cook’s sensibilities, she would partake of it, because he had baked a Savoy Cake for her especial delectation.

Kate did go upstairs to remove her hat; but when she came out of her bedchamber she did not immediately go to the Blue saloon, but to her aunt’s drawing-room instead, where she found Lady Broome at her writing-table, already busy with her correspondence. She said haltingly: “I suppose there are no letters for me, ma’am?”

“No, my dear, none,” replied Lady Broome, not raising her eyes from the letter she was reading.

Kate went quietly away, heavy-hearted.

Chapter XI

On the following afternoon, Lady Broome, in response to an urgent entreaty from Kate to set her some task to perform, sent her down to the lodge, with what Kate knew to be a frivolous message. She accepted it without comment, realizing that her aunt was a trifle out of sorts, and set off down the avenue reflecting that if ever she had yearned for a life of indolence the weeks she had spent at Staplewood had cured her. Her only duties were trivial, and occupied perhaps an hour in the day. For the rest of the time she was at liberty to amuse herself as best she might. She could read, write, walk, busy herself with stitchery, play at battledore and shuttlecock with Torquil, or loiter her time away. She had the run of the library, and, after skipping her way through a number of old novels, she embarked on The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, with the laudable object of