Cousin Kate

ever she eloped with the Major—not that he was a Major in those days!—I took the liberty of writing a letter to her papa, but I never had an answer. I wouldn’t wish to speak ill of the dead, and dead both he and my mistress’ mama are, but it’s my belief they didn’t neither of them care a straw what became of her, nor of Miss Kate! And as for Miss Emily, that was my mistress’ sister, she’s as full as a toad is of poison, my lady, as I know, and I wouldn’t write to her, not for a fortune!”

“Well, I am very glad you wrote to me, Mrs Nidd,” Lady Broome said. “I shall certainly not permit my brother’s child to engage on any menial occupation—for such, from what I have observed, seems to be the fate of governesses!”

“Yes, my lady, and there’s worse to be feared!” said Sarah eagerly.

“Tell me!” invited her ladyship, so sympathetically that Sarah plunged straightway into an account of the dire schemes which had entered Kate’s head.

In the middle of this recital, Kate came into the room, pausing on the threshold, and looking in bewilderment from her aunt to her nurse. “Mr. Nidd—Mr Nidd tells me—that my aunt has come to visit me!” she stammered. “But I don’t understand! Are you my aunt, ma’am? How did you— Sarah! This must be your doing! How could you?”

Lady Broome broke into a deep laugh, and rose, casting aside her muff, and advancing with her hands held out. “Oh, you pretty child!” she said caressingly. “Why, Mrs Nidd, you didn’t prepare me for such a little piece of perfection! My dear, I am happy to be able to tell you that I am your Aunt Minerva.”

She folded Kate in her arms as she spoke, and lightly kissed her cheek. Overwhelmed, Kate felt herself obliged to yield to that soft embrace, but the look she cast Sarah was one of deep reproach. This made Lady Broome laugh again, giving her a little shake, and saying, in a quizzical tone: “Was it so dreadful of Mrs Nidd to have written to me? I promise you, I don’t think so! She told me something I never knew before: that I had a niece!”

“Only—only a half-niece, ma’am!” Kate faltered. “And one who has no claims upon you!”

“Ah, you don’t understand! How should you, indeed? You are too young to know what it means to have been an only child, when you reach my age, and have no close relations, and no daughter! I have always longed for one, and never more so than now! It’s true I have a son, but a boy cannot give one the same companionship. Dear child, I’ve come to carry you off to Staplewood! I’m persuaded I must be your natural guardian!”

“But I am of age, ma’am!” protested Kate, feeling as though she were being swept along on an irresistible tide.

“Yes, so your kind nurse has informed me. I can’t compel you—heaven forbid that I should—but I can beg you to take pity on a very lonely woman!”

At this point, Sarah, perceiving that her nursling was much shaken, effaced herself with a murmured excuse. Kate said: “You are very good, ma’am—Aunt! I am excessively grateful, but I couldn’t— no, I couldn’t subsist on your generosity! Why, you know nothing about me—you might even take me in dislike!”

“So I might, agreed Lady Broome, looking amused. “So might you take me in dislike! If that were to happen there would be nothing for it but to part. You wouldn’t be my prisoner, you know! Come! Let us sit down, and talk the matter over! You must tell me, if you please, how in the world you come to be unmarried, for it seems to me to be quite extraordinary. Your mama must have been very beautiful: I don’t remember my brother very clearly, but I don’t think you resemble him much, do you?”

“No, admitted Kate, blushing faintly. “That is, I was thought to favour my mother, but she was much more beautiful than I am.”

“And she died when you were twelve? Poor child! I wish I might have known, but I was still in the schoolroom when my brother married her, and only a child when he first joined, so that he was almost a stranger to me. Do you blame me for not having tried, in later years, to better my acquaintance with him? Pray do not!”

“Oh, no!” Kate said. “He did not, either.” She glanced up into that handsome countenance, a tiny crease between her brows, and in her eyes a doubtful question. “Don’t you remember him, ma’am? He remembered you!”

“Very likely: he was six-and-twenty when I was sixteen. I only wish he may have remembered something to my credit, but when I look back upon myself I realize that at that age I must have been a detestable girl, with a very good conceit of myself, and my head stuffed with every sort of ambitious notion, from making a brilliant marriage to winning the admiration of all by some improbable deed of heroism! I fear my governess was to blame: she was much addicted to reading sentimental romances, and she permitted me to do so too.”

Kate smiled, reassured. “Papa did say that you were very ambitious, she admitted.

“He might well! I hope he knew that I outgrew such nonsense, and instead of marrying a prince or a duke fell in love with my dear Sir Timothy. I must tell you, my dear, that he was almost as pleased as I was when he learned of your existence. He would have accompanied me to London if I had allowed him to do so, but I was obliged to forbid it. You see, I have to take great care of him: he doesn’t enjoy good health, and the journey would have quite knocked him up. So he charged me with a message, that a warm welcome awaits you at Staplewood.”

“How kind—how very kind he must be!” Kate exclaimed, much moved. “Pray tell him how grateful I am, ma’am! But—”

“No, no, let us have no buts!” interrupted Lady Broome. “You shall come to Staplewood on a visit merely. You can have no objection to spending a month or two in the country. Then, if you are still determined to seek another situation, I must try if I can find one for you.” She smiled at Kate’s quick look of inquiry. “Yes, I can, you know—and a better one than you could discover for yourself. However, we shan’t think of that yet. In another fortnight we shall be in May, and must hope that this odiously sharp wind will have blown itself out. Ah, you can’t conceive of any place more beautiful than Staplewood in summer!”

It was too tempting; it would be too churlish to refuse. Kate stammered her thanks, was silenced, and found herself listening to a description of the household.

“Sir Timothy,” said Lady Broome, “is many years older than I am, and has become very frail. I am his second wife, you must know, and my son, Torquil, is his only surviving child. He is some years younger than you.” She hesitated, looking all at once a little stern; then she sighed, and continued quietly: “I am sorry to say that his constitution is sickly. It has never been possible to send him to school. He is under the care of Dr Delabole, who also attends Sir Timothy, and lives with us. So you see, my dear, why I have so much wished for a daughter! I am a very lonely woman.”

Feeling all the embarrassment of one made the recipient of such a confidence, Kate murmured: “Yes. I mean, I see!”

Lady Broome leaned forward to pat her hand. “You don’t, of course, but never mind! you will! Now, we must decide, must we not, what it will be proper to pay your nurse for having housed you. Do you think—”

“Oh, no!” Kate exclaimed, recoiling. “No, no, ma’am! I beg you will not offer Sarah money! I shall give them all presents—Joe, and Mr Nidd, and the nephews as well!—but I must pay for them out of my own savings!”

“Very well!” said her ladyship, rising, and drawing her pelisse about her again, and buttoning it at the throat. Her eyes ran over her niece; she smiled, and held out a gloved hand. “Au revoir, then! I am putting up at the Clarendon. You will take a hackney coach, and join me there tomorrow: it is understood? Good! Now, do you think that Joe, or Mr Nidd, or even one of the nephews, could procure me a hack?”

“Yes, ma’am, on the instant!” replied Kate, starting up from her chair, and running to the door. “Only wait, I do implore you!”

Pausing merely to cram a hat over her dusky locks, and to huddle a cloak about her person, she darted down the stairs, and out into the yard, to be pulled up in her tracks by Mr Nidd, who, from his vantage point on the balcony, saw her, and briskly commanded her to stop. Rising, not without difficulty, from his seat, he adjured her not to be a hoyden, but to come back into the house this instant. “A’h, know!” he said. “Going to summon a hack, ain’t you? Well, you won’t, see? You’ll leave that to them as is better able than you to do it, my girl! Back with you into the house, miss! And take that nasty hat off your head!”

“It is not a nasty hat!” retorted Kate indignantly.

But, as Mr Nidd had dived through a doorway out of sight, this reply fell on the ambient air; and a few minutes later Old Tom came grumbling out of the stables, and hobbled across the yard to the gateway.

“Oh, Tom!” uttered Kate, in remorseful accents.