Cousin Kate

seen I did hope you and he would make a match of it, but now that I’ve seen him I do hope you won’t marry him, love—which it stands to reason you can’t, being as how you’ve accepted Mr Philip Broome’s offer—for a more whisky-frisky, nasty-tempered young gentleman I trust I’ll never meet!”

“Oh, Sarah!” Kate whispered, covering her face with her hands. “It’s worse than that! Far, far worse! He—he ain’t in his right mind! And my aunt knows it—has known it for years! She told me so today: that’s why I put you to the blush when I hurtled down the stairs! I was feeling quite overpowered—my mind wholly overset! Philip told me, but I didn’t believe him—I couldn’t believe it possible that my aunt knew! But she did—she did! And the only thing she cares for is that he shall provide Staplewood with an heir! Before he has to be confined! She doesn’t care for poor Torquil—only for Staplewood! Sarah, she is a terrible woman, and I must get away from her! I must!”

“And so you shall, Miss Kate, never fear! It sounds to me as if she’s as queer in her attic as that son of hers is. Well, I didn’t like her, though I’d have been hard put to it to say why, for I’m sure she was very agreeable and condescending. And when I think that it was me writing to her which brought her down on you—which, mind you, I never would have done if Father hadn’t nudged me on!—I’m that sorry and mortified, love, that I don’t know how to ask you to forgive me!”

Kate raised her face, mistily smiling. “There’s nothing to forgive. If you hadn’t written to her, I might never have met Philip, and that would have been more dreadful than all the rest!” She heard the stable-clock striking the hour, and exclaimed: “Good God, it’s five o’clock already! We dine at six, and I must speak to Philip before we’re beset by Delabole! To tell him—ask him—You see, he doesn’t know that I’ve changed my mind—wish to leave Staplewood tomorrow! He has been urging me to let him take me to you at once, but I wouldn’t go while my aunt was unwell, and I thought I could be useful to her! For she has been very kind to me, Sarah! Whatever her motive was, I can’t forget that! But she won’t wish me to remain another day under this roof when she knows that Philip has made me an offer, and I’ve accepted it, and I can’t and I won’t go on deceiving her!”

“Well, if ever I saw you in such a fuss!” ejaculated Sarah. “Give over, Miss Kate, do! She can’t eat you! Not while I’m here she can’t! And from what I’ve seen of him I shouldn’t wonder at it if Mr Philip was very well able to protect you!”

“She hates him,” Kate said, pulling one of her evening-dresses out of the wardrobe, and casting it on to the bed. “She will think me a traitress, and when I remember all the things she has given me—all her kindness!— feel like one! Sarah, I dread telling her!”

“Now, that’s not like you, Miss Kate!” responded Sarah. “No, and it isn’t like you to put off doing what’s unpleasant! You may depend upon it, dearie, that the longer you do that the worse it will be. Besides, it’s not right you should be getting yourself engaged in a havey-cavey way! You should have told her ladyship straight-off!”

“I couldn’t tell her!” Kate said hotly. “She was in a high fever! I wasn’t even permitted to enter her room until today, and I promised Sir Timothy I wouldn’t break it to her until she was well!”

“Oh, so he knows, does he?” said Sarah, pushing her round so that she could unbutton her poplin dress. “Stand still, for goodness sake! How am I to undo your dress if you keep twisting and turning? By what Father heard in Market Harborough, it seems he’s not in very good point?”

“No, indeed he’s not! And that’s another thing that makes me think I ought not to have accepted Philip’s offer! He’s so very much attached to him, and I have the greatest fear that if I marry Philip my aunt won’t permit him to come to Staplewood again. And that would break poor Sir Timothy’s heart, I think.”

“You’ll just have to decide whether to break his heart, or Mr Philip’s, won’t you?” said Sarah.

This eminently practical point of view struck Kate forcibly. She said quickly: “Oh, there can be no question!”

She would have said more, but was interrupted by the arrival of Ellen, almost bursting with curiosity. When Kate made her known to Sarah, she dropped a curtsy, slopping some of the hot water in the can she was carrying. “Oh, yes, miss, Mrs Thorne told me! And, if you please, ma’am, Mrs Thorne said to tell you that your bedchamber is quite ready, and your bag carried up, and all. And Miss Sidlaw says as how you’re to go to her ladyship’s room, please, ma’am!”

Taking the can away from her, Sarah admonished her, though kindly, not to be so clumsy. “And that wasn’t the message you were given, was it?” she said. “I’ll be bound her ladyship never said anything so rough!”

“No, ma’am! I mean, it was Miss Sidlaw! Ever so cross she is! Betty says it’s because Mrs Thorne didn’t tell her you was come, ma’am, nor ask my lady’s leave to make up the bed in the next room, nor anything!”

“Well, never you mind about that!” said Sarah. “I shall go to pay my respects to her ladyship when Miss Kate is dressed.” She then handed the can of hot water to Ellen, recommending her not to waste time prattling, but to pour the water out for Miss Kate to wash her hands, and to take care she didn’t spill any more of it, and turned away to pick up the dress of pale orange Italian crape, and to shake out its folds. Trying in vain to catch her eye, Kate submitted to the ministrations of her youthful abigail, which, owing to the terror into which Sarah’s critical eye cast her, were more than usually clumsy. When it came to combing out Kate’s soft curls, Sarah took the comb firmly away from her, and set about the task of arranging them becomingly herself, bidding Ellen watch closely how she did it. To which Ellen responded slavishly, and dropped another curtsy.

Meeting Kate’s anxious gaze in the looking-glass, Sarah favoured her with a small smile of reassurance, and said, as she adjusted a ringlet: “That’s more the thing! The way you were doing it, my girl, it looked like a birch- broom in a fit!”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Ellen, giggling. “She does look a picture! If you please, will I take you to her ladyship’s room now?”

“No, Miss Kate will show me where it is,” Sarah replied, gently pushing Kate towards the door. “You can stay here, and make everything tidy. And mind you give that poplin dress a good shake before you hang it up! I’ll put Miss Kate to bed, so you needn’t wait up for her!”

“Sarah, you will take care, won’t you?” Kate said urgently, as soon as the door was shut behind them. “I am sick with apprehension! Sidlaw must have told her—” She broke off, and lowered her voice. “Here she is! Don’t tell her anything, Sarah! Don’t trust her!”

“Anyone would think your senses was disordered, Miss Kate!” replied Mrs Nidd. “For goodness sake, stop behaving like a wet-goose, and be off to your dinner!”

Kate threw her a speaking glance, but spoke with commendable calm to Sidlaw, who had by this time reached them, and come to a halt, standing with her hands primly clasped before her, and looking Sarah over with sour disparagement. “Sidlaw, this is my nurse, Mrs Nidd,” said Kate. “Will you have the goodness to conduct her to her ladyship’s room?”

“I was coming to do so, miss,” Sidlaw replied, dropping a stiff curtsy. “I’m sure, Mrs Nidd, if Miss had seen fit to tell me she was expecting a visit from you, I should have seen to it myself that a bedchamber was prepared for you.”

“Well, it would have puzzled her to do that, seeing that she didn’t know I was coming to visit her,” said Mrs Nidd cheerfully. “Not that I would have come, if I’d known her ladyship was poorly, but what’s done can’t be mended, and you won’t find me any trouble! Now, you run along, Miss Kate! I shall be coming to put you to bed later on, so I won’t say goodnight to you.”

There was nothing for Kate to do but to make her way to the Long Drawing-room, which she did, feeling that Sidlaw at least had met her match in Mrs Nidd.

She had hoped to have found Mr Philip Broome waiting for her there, but the room was empty, a circumstance which, in the exacerbated state of her nerves, she was much inclined to think betrayed a lamentable unconcern with what he must surely have known was her anxiety to exchange a few words with him in private. She fidgeted about the room for what seemed to her an interminable time, and was just wondering whether the pre- prandial gathering was taking place in one of the saloons on the entrance floor when she heard his voice in the anteroom. A moment later, he came in, escorting Sir Timothy. At sight of him, her annoyance evaporated; and when his eyes smiled at her across the room her heart melted. She moved forward to greet Sir Timothy, and was adjusting a cushion behind his back when Pennymore came in, carrying a massive silver tray which bore two decanters and five sherry glasses. He set this down on a table by one of the windows, and disclosed fell tidings. Her ladyship had sent a message to him that she was coming down to dinner.