Cousin Kate

Chapter XIX

Kate left the room feeling stunned. Listening to the incredible things her aunt had said, a ghastly suspicion had crossed her mind that Lady Broome was as mad as her son, but although Lady Broome’s eyes had flashed once or twice in anger there had been no such glitter in them as Kate had learnt to recognize in Torquil’s eyes; and when she had spoken of Torquil’s childhood, and of her fantastic scheme for his future, she had done so without a trace of feeling. Only when she described her own emotions had she shown any feeling: she had not uttered a word of pity for her unhappy son; it had not seemed to occur to her that it was far more his tragedy than hers. To Kate, this, if not madness, was an egoism so monstrous as to be unbelievable.

She caught her breath on a dry sob, and went rather blindly along the gallery to her own room. But just as she opened her door she was arrested by Mr Philip Broome’s voice, reaching her from the Great Hall. It was unusually sharp; he demanded imperatively: “What the devil has been happening?”

“Well, sir, that’s more than I can tell you,” replied a voice Kate knew well. “All I know is that this young gentleman seems to have come, to grief, jumping over the wall alongside your lodge-gates, but there was no making sense out of what any of the folks dithering round him tried to tell me, or they were all too scared to do more than say that the young gentleman had broken his neck. Which he hasn’t, nor anything else, so far as I can discover. He just stunned himself. So I had them lift him into the chaise, and brought him up to the house.”

“Sarah!” Kate shrieked, racing to the head of the stairs, and almost tumbling down them in her haste. “Oh, Sarah! oh, Sarah!”

She flung herself into Mrs Nidd’s arms, her overwrought nerves finding relief in a burst of hysterical sobs. Mrs Nidd gave her a hearty kiss, but spoke bracing words. “No, that’s quite enough, Miss Kate! There’s no need for you to fall into the vapours just because I’ve come to see you. You should know better than to create such a humdurgeon!”

“Take me away, Sarah! Oh, take me away!” Kate gasped imploringly.

“Yes, lovey, but all in good time. You sit down there, like a good girl, or I shall have to be cross with you!”

She thrust Kate into a chair, and turned back to the group gathered about the settle, on which Torquil’s inanimate form had been laid. One of the footmen was standing with a bottle of smelling-salts in his hand, and looking singularly helpless; Pennymore was anxiously watching Mr Philip Broome; and Philip himself was on one knee beside the settle, feeling Torquil’s pulse. “Here, you silly creature!” said Sarah, addressing herself to the footman, and wresting the smelling-bottle away from him. “What do you think I gave you that for?” She pushed him aside, and began to wave the salts under Torquil’s nose. “Nothing broken, is there, sir?”

“I don’t think so,” Philip answered curtly. “His doctor will know. Pennymore, have you sent to fetch Dr Delabole?”

“Yes, sir: James has gone to find him. Mr Philip, it would be as well to move him out of the hall: we don’t want to disturb Sir Timothy!”

“He’s out of earshot: I left him in his bedroom, going to rest before dinner.” He glanced up at Sarah. “The pulse is quite strong: he’ll do! You are Mrs Nidd, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir, I am. Ah, he’s coming round! That makes the second time, and it’s to be hoped he don’t swoon off again, like he did before. Nothing would do for him but to get on his feet, and it’s my belief he was just giddy, and shook up, whatever the lodge-keeper may say to the contrary! Not that I paid the least heed to him, for a bigger jolterhead I never did set !—That’s better, sir! You take it easy over the stones, and you’ll soon be as right as a trivet!”

Torquil, who had opened his eyes, lay blinking hazily for a few moments, but his clouded gaze gradually cleared, and he said thickly: “Oh, it’s you, Philip! I took a toss.”

“So I’ve been informed,” responded his cousin unemotionally. “Keep still!”

“Oh, to hell with you!” Torquil said angrily, struggling up. “I’m in a capital way! Did you think I’d broken my neck? Diddled again, coz!” He pushed Philip roughly aside, and swung his feet to the floor, and looked round the hall. He stared blankly at Sarah, and demanded: “Who the devil are you?”

“I’m Miss Kate’s nurse, Master Torquil, and that’s no way for a young gentleman to talk!” replied Sarah, apparently regarding him as one of her nurslings.

“Oh!” said Torquil doubtfully. A sudden smile swept over his face. “I know! You are Sarah! ” he said ingenuously. “Kate’s Sarah! But how the devil—no, how the deuce! —do you come to be here?”

“There’s no need for you to worrit yourself over that, sir. I came to Market Harborough on the night-coach, and hired a chaise to drive me here—and just as well for you I did!” Sarah said severely. “Now, you stay quiet, like a good boy, till the doctor comes!”

“I don’t want him!” Torquil declared, his smile vanishing. “Prosy bag-pudding!” His eyes travelled to his cousin’s face and gleamed defiance. “This will teach them not to keep the gates shut when I tell them to open them!”

“Is there any hope that it may teach you not to overface your horses?” asked Philip. He added softly, with a smile that took the sting out of his words: “Top-lofty young cawker!”

“Oh, damn you, Philip, I’m not!” protested Torquil. “You know I’m not! The clumsy brute must have jumped off his fore! Serve him right if he broke his legs! I hope he did: he’s a commoner! Oh, my God, no!”

This venomous ejaculation was provoked by the sight of Dr Delabole, descending the wide stairway with unusual haste. The doctor said, with fond joviality, as he crossed the hall: “Ah, there was no need for me to be alarmed, I see! I haven’t been summoned to attend a corpse! My dear boy, how came you to do anything so imprudent? I thought you were sleeping, when I myself retired to seek repose!”

“Tipped you the double, didn’t I, Matthew?” mocked Torquil unpleasantly.

“You did indeed!” acknowledged the doctor with unabated amiability. “And very naughty of you it was! However, I shan’t scold you! I fancy you punished yourself!” He was flexing one of Torquil’s legs as he spoke, and said laughingly, as he frustrated an attempt to kick him off his balance: “Well, that’s not broken, at all events! Let me see if you are able to stand on your feet!—Capital! Unless you have fractured a rib or two, which I can’t tell until I have you stripped, there’s nothing amiss with you but a shaking, and a few bruises. I shall ask our good James to carry you up to your room—”

“The devil fly away with you!” interrupted Torquil, taking instant umbrage. “I’m damned if I’ll be carried! Here, James, give me your arm up the stairs!” His eyes alighted on Kate, who had recovered her composure but was still sitting, rather limply, on a very uncomfortable chair placed with its high carved back against the wall. “Lord, coz, are you here?” he said. “I didn’t see you! You’re looking as blue as megrim! Did you think I was dead? No such thing! I’m as right as ram’s horn!”

She straightened her sagging shoulders, and got up. “Well, I’m glad of that, even if you don’t deserve to be!” she said.

At this inopportune moment, a hot and agitated groom burst unceremoniously into the house, pulled up short as soon as he saw Torquil, and uttered devoutly: “Thank Gawd!”

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Torquil, his wrath springing up. He shook James off, and advanced, rather shakily, towards the groom. “You insolent hound, how dared you get in my way?”

He found his passage barred by his cousin, and glared up at him, his chest heaving. Philip said sternly: “Go upstairs, Torquil! I’ll deal with Scholes.” He paused, watching Torquil’s long fingers curl, like a hawk’s talons, and dropped his hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving him a friendly shake. “Go on, you gudgeon! Making a show of yourself!”

Torquil’s angry eyes held his for a dangerous moment; then they sank, and he muttered something inaudible, before flinging round on his heel. He staggered, and would have fallen but for Delabole, who caught him as he lurched, and signed to James to carry him up the stairs. Philip turned towards Pennymore, saying calmly: “Well, there doesn’t seem to be much wrong! I fancy the only damage he suffered is to his pride, which is why he’s in such a pelter. You needn’t wait: the doctor will know what to do for him. Or you, William! Scholes, I want a word with you: don’t go!” He held out his hand to Sarah, saying, with a smile: “My uncle having retired to rest, Lady Broome