Cousin Kate Read online

‘I am very sure I couldn’t! You must be a notable horse-woman, Kate!’

  ‘Well, I don’t think I’m contemptible, but I must own that I took a great many tumbles!’ she said merrily. ‘Do you hunt here?’

  ‘Oh, yes, with the Pytchley! That is to say, I was used to when I was younger. While my father was employed abroad, this was my home. My uncle mounted me on my first pony, and inducted me into all the niceties of the sport – and even burdened himself with me in the field when I was a clumsy schoolboy! I must have been a dead bore to him, but he never let me guess it.’

  ‘You have a great regard for him, haven’t you?’ she said gently.

  ‘A very great regard. He was a second father to me.’

  ‘It must be a grief to you to see him failing, as I fear he is.’

  ‘Yes. When I recall what he once was – But that serves no purpose! He abandoned the struggle a long time ago, and is content now to let Minerva rule the roost.’

  She could not deny the truth of this, so she was silent for a minute or two before turning the subject. ‘Does Torquil know that you don’t covet Staplewood?’ she asked him.

  ‘Yes, in his more rational moments,’ he replied. ‘At such times, he doesn’t hate me in the least. So far as he is capable of being fond of anyone, he is fond of me, I believe.’

  ‘Then why – Is he perhaps jealous of you? Because Sir Timothy loves you? Because he thinks Sir Timothy wishes you to succeed him?’

  ‘My uncle doesn’t wish that.’

  ‘But Torquil might think so, might he not?’

  He shrugged. ‘Possibly.’ He looked round. ‘Where, by the way, is Torquil? I had thought he was with you.’

  ‘He was, but I pinched at him, and he flung away in rage. I daresay he is in the woods, or in the belvedere.’

  ‘Take care what you are about!’ he warned her. ‘Torquil can be violent!’

  ‘Oh, yes, I know he can!’ she answered blithely. ‘He often puts me in mind of one of my late charges – a veritable demon, who became violent the instant his will was crossed! However, I managed him tolerably well, and, even though you don’t think so, I believe I can manage Torquil. At all events, I haven’t failed yet!’ She got up. ‘I must go and see if my aunt has any errands for me to run.’

  He too got up, and possessed himself of her hand. ‘Very well, but don’t forget what I have been saying to you! If you should want help, you may count upon me!’

  ‘Thank you – I’m much obliged to you, but I can’t imagine why I should want help. In any event, you won’t be at hand, will you?’

  ‘No more than thirty miles away: Broome Manor is near Oakham. But I am not returning there immediately. When I leave Staplewood I shall probably go to stay with Templecombe for a few days. Which reminds me I’m dining with him this evening: I must tell Minerva.’

  Lady Broome received this news with cold civility, but confided to Kate that she considered it pretty cool of Philip to treat the house as though it were his own. ‘I shall be thankful when he takes himself off altogether,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how it is, but he always contrives to set everyone at odds. Now he has upset Torquil!’

  ‘I’m afraid I did that, ma’am,’ said Kate guiltily. ‘I gave him a scold, for talking dramatic nonsense, and he went off in a huff.’

  ‘Oh! Well, I daresay he was very provoking, but young men, my dear, don’t care to be scolded, and certainly not by young women! You should learn to button your lip.’

  Feeling that this, the second rebuke she had received that day, was unjust, Kate merely said, in a colourless tone: ‘Yes, ma’am: I will endeavour to do so.’

  ‘Foolish child!’ said her ladyship, pinching her chin, and laughing. ‘Pokering up because I venture to give you a hint! Must I apologize?’

  ‘Oh, Aunt Minerva, no !’ Kate exclaimed remorsefully. ‘It is rather for me to apologize!’

  She felt even more remorseful when she later overheard Lady Broome asking Pennymore if Mr Torquil had not yet come in; and slipped out of the house to look for him. It seemed to be the least she could do to atone for having upset him. She caught a glimpse of Mr Philip Broome driving himself down the avenue in his natty curricle, and had just enough time to admire his forward-stepping pair before the trees hid him from her sight. She was conscious of envy, because he was escaping from Staplewood, but banished so impious a thought, and trod swiftly across the lawn, in the direction of the belvedere.

  But when she reached it she found that it was empty. She went down on to the bridge, and paused there, wondering whether to search through the woods, or to go back to the house. Instead of doing either, she called: ‘Torquil! Tor – quil!’

  Before the last syllable had left her lips, she was frozen with dismay, because, from somewhere in the wood beyond the lake, she heard a scream of intolerable anguish. It sounded human, and for a moment she was paralysed. Then, acting on impulse, she picked up her skirts, and ran, not away from the sound but towards it, crying: ‘Torquil, where are you? Torquil!’

  No voice answered her; there was no repetition of the dreadful scream she had heard. She stopped, listening with straining ears, and trying to recollect from which direction the scream had come. The silence closed in on her, with not even the twitter of a bird, or the rustle of some small creature in the undergrowth, to break it. She caught her breath on a scared sob, but steeled herself to go on, impelled by the fear that it had been Torquil who had screamed, and who might now be lying insensible somewhere in the wood. She kept on calling to him, but still received no answer, and was just about to run back to the house, to summon help, when she almost stumbled over the mangled corpse of a rabbit. She started back, with an involuntary cry of revulsion, and stood staring down in horror. It was quite dead, but blood was still oozing from it, and she saw that it had been snared, for someone had wrenched the snare out of the ground, and cast it aside.

  As she stood, fighting back nausea, she heard hasty footsteps approaching, and the next moment Dr Delabole came into sight round a thicket, gasping for breath, and uttering: ‘Miss Malvern, where are you? Miss – Oh, there you are! I – I thought I heard you call out for help!’ He saw what was holding her gaze riveted, and said: ‘Oh, tut, tut! Very distressing! quite horrible, indeed! But only a rabbit, you know! Don’t look at it!’

  She turned her eyes towards him, and fixed them on his face. ‘I heard a scream,’ she said, shuddering. ‘A human scream!’

  ‘Yes, yes, they do sound human!’ he agreed sympathetically, taking her arm, and gently leading her away. ‘No doubt a cat got at it, or a fox, or even a weasel!’

  ‘Dr Delabole, it was caught in a snare! I – I saw the snare!’

  ‘Oh, then, that accounts for it! I must own that I myself deprecate the use of snares, but one can’t stop gamekeepers and gardeners from setting them! In nine cases out of ten the rabbits are killed outright – strangled, you know! – but every now and then they are not killed, and then they scream, and their screams attract some predator –’

  ‘What cat, or fox, or weasel would remove it from the snare, and – and tear its head off ?’ she demanded, in a shaking voice.

  ‘Why, none, to be sure, but a fox may well have bitten its head off while it was still in the snare!’

  ‘The snare had been pulled out of the ground. I saw it.’

  ‘Did you? I must confess I didn’t notice it, but it’s very likely! In trying to drag the poor creature away the fox – or even a dog, perhaps! – wrenched the stake up –’

  ‘And then disentangled it from the wire? Dr Delabole, do you take me for a fool? No animal perpetrated that – that horror!’

  ‘No, I fear you may be right,’ he said, grimacing. ‘I suspect you may have surprised some ruffianly louts from the village. Boys can be abominably cruel, you know. But what brought you into the wood, Miss Malvern?’