Cousin Kate Read online

  ‘Depend upon it, Minerva is well aware of that.’

  ‘Oh, no, no! Why, she told Sarah that she might be sure of a welcome at Staplewood, if she chose to visit me!’

  ‘I can almost hear her saying it. Knowing that there was very little likelihood of Sarah’s undertaking such a journey uninvited, and none at all, if communication between you could be severed!’

  Kate wrung her hands. ‘You mustn’t say such things! I can’t and I won’t believe them! It would be too shocking – too dreadful!’

  ‘Very well, Kate: I won’t say them.’

  ‘But you have said them, and I shan’t be able to forget them, because – because –’

  Her voice failed, and he said: ‘Because you know, in your heart, that they are true?’

  ‘No, no, I don’t know that, but I can’t help wondering if there might be some truth in them! If my aunt didn’t intercept my letters to Sarah, who did ? And – and who but she could have stolen Sarah’s letters to me? Pennymore takes the post-bag to her, and it is she who opens it, and sorts the letters. Only this morning I asked her if there were no letters for me, and she said there were not. Surely, knowing how anxious I was, she would not be so cruel as to lie to me? Every feeling revolts! You, I know, dislike and despise her, but –’

  ‘You’re mistaken!’ he interrupted. ‘I certainly dislike her, but I am far from despising her! She is not only a woman of iron determination, but a very clever woman as well. I am persuaded she would stop at nothing to gain her ends. It will be well for you, my poor child, if you face that disagreeable truth.’

  She made a gesture, imploring him to say no more, and for quite some time he drove on in silence. When he did speak again, it was on an indifferent subject, and in a cheerful tone which did much to restore her composure. She managed to answer him in kind, but she was a prey to agitating reflections, and knew that these would recur. A period of quiet thought, in the solitude of her bedchamber, would be necessary to enable her to consider dispassionately all that he had said, and all that she knew about Lady Broome. Meanwhile, the most sensible thing to do was to put the matter aside for the time being, and to respond to the unexceptional remarks he was making with at least the assumption of calm interest. It was not so very difficult, for he made her laugh when he described Mr Nidd as being as spruce as an onion, and after that she became much more at her ease. ‘If that was so,’ she said sapiently, ‘he must be wearing his bettermost clothes! I’m glad you like him – and you do, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, to the top of the glass! A capital old gentleman – with salt under his tongue!’

  ‘He has plenty of that!’ admitted Kate. ‘Sometimes he offends people by being so outspoken, and using cant terms, which shock Sarah! She was on tenterhooks, when I stayed with her, in case he should say something improper to me. But he never said anything to make me blush, though I must own that I learned a great many words from him which Sarah says are excessively vulgar! I collect he wasn’t uncivil to you?’

  ‘Not at all. On the other hand, he didn’t truckle to me, and I liked that. I know he regarded me with a critical eye, and I suspect that he thinks me a mere stripling. Promising, but immature!’

  ‘I perceive that he must have been very civil to you!’ said Kate, with a twinkle. ‘You should hear what he says to his grandsons! And he even calls Joe – that’s his only son – a chawbacon! Which,’ she added, after a moment’s consideration, ‘is perfectly true, of course! But so kind, and good !’

  ‘I should dearly love to hear what he calls his grandsons, and look forward to meeting them, and Joe, and Sarah,’ he replied.

  ‘But you aren’t at all likely to, are you?’ Kate pointed out.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that! It depends on circumstances!’ he responded.

  Twelve

  On arrival at Market Harborough, Mr Philip Broome drove to the Angel, and left Kate in a private parlour there while he went off to the Cock, to fetch Mr Nidd. She would have gone with him, but he told her that Mr Nidd had forbidden him to bring her to what he had described as a mere sluicery. ‘He says it wouldn’t be fitting, and I daresay he’s right – even if he wrongs it in calling it a mere sluicery! As I recall, it is a respectable inn, situated not far from the post-road. However, it doesn’t cater for the gentry, so I think you will be more comfortable here.’

  She agreed to it, and sat down by the window to await his return. Twenty minutes later, she saw him crossing the street, with Mr Nidd trotting along beside him, and realized, with deep appreciation, that Mr Nidd was indeed looking as spruce as an onion, in his Sunday coat and smalls, a natty waistcoat, and a rigidly starched collar, whose points, she guessed, were causing him considerable discomfort. She wished Sarah might have been present to have been gratified by the sight of him, for not all her efforts had hitherto prevailed upon him to wear a collar, except for Church-going, and great occasions. His favourite form of neckwear was a large, spotted silk handkerchief, which he knotted round his throat with great taste and artistry.

  In another few minutes, she was welcoming him with outstretched hands, and exclaiming: ‘Oh, Mr Nidd, how happy it makes me to see you again!’

  Much gratified, he said: ‘That makes a pair of us, miss! And very kind I take it that you should say so! Now, wait a bit while I put me hat down careful somewhere! It’s a new ’un, and I don’t want it spoiled!’

  Philip took it out of his hand, and set it down with meticulous care upon a side-table. Mr Nidd, watching this with a jealous eye, was pleased to approve, and said he was much obliged. He then received Kate’s hands in a reverent clasp, but reproved her for demeaning herself. ‘Because there ain’t no call for you to treat me as if I was a lord, missy, and, what’s more, you didn’t ought to!’

  ‘I’m not acquainted with a lord,’ countered Kate, ‘and I shouldn’t hold out my hands to him if I were! Dear Mr Nidd, if you knew how much I have yearned for news of you all – ! How is Sarah? Could you not have brought her with you?’

  ‘No, and nor I wasn’t wishful to, miss!’ said Mr Nidd, with sudden malevolence. ‘Sarey’s cut her stick!’

  ‘Cut her stick?’ repeated Kate uncomprehendingly.

  ‘Loped off !’ pronounced Mr Nidd, in bitter accents. ‘Ah! For all she cares, I could be living on pig-swill! Which I pretty well was!’ he added, with a darkling look.

  ‘Mr Nidd, she cannot have done so! Do you mean that she has quarrelled with Joe, and left him? Oh, no! Impossible!’

  ‘Properly speaking, it was him as left her,’ replied Mr Nidd, in a reluctantly fair-minded way. ‘Not but what it was only in the way of business, mind! Joe’s gone off with Young Ted to Swansea, with a wagon-load of furniture, which a gentleman as is moving house hired him to convey, being as a friend of his had highly recommended Josiah Nidd & Son, Carriers, to him.’

  ‘What a stroke of good fortune!’ said Kate. ‘Except, of course, that it means, I suppose, that he will be absent for several weeks. But I can’t believe that Sarah wished him to refuse such an advantageous engagement!’

  ‘No,’ admitted Mr Nidd. ‘All Sarey wished was for Joe to drive a harder bargain, which I’m bound to say he did do – though not as hard a one as I’d have driven, mind! So off he went, leaving Sarey to keep house for me and Will, which would have been all right and tight if she’d done it, but she didn’t, Miss Kate! What I say is, she ain’t got no call to go trapesing off to nurse them dratted brats of Polly’s!’

  ‘Oh, dear! Are they ill, then? But you know you shouldn’t call your grandchildren dratted brats, Mr Nidd!’

  ‘Nor I wouldn’t, if it wasn’t true!’ he replied, with spirit. ‘I speaks of people as I find ’em, miss, and why the good Lord see fit to saddle me with a set of grandchildren that ain’t worth two rows of gingerbread I don’t know, and never will! They’ve got the measles, Miss Kate – all six of ’em! And what must Pol