Cousin Kate Read online

  ‘Badger found him,’ he replied, and lifted a hand that was not quite steady to cover his eyes for a brief moment. He let it fall again, and said harshly: ‘We were too late – both of us –’

  ‘Dead?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes, dead,’ he answered.

  Twenty-one

  Mrs Nidd, nearly dropping her cup, gasped: ‘Oh, my goodness gracious me!’ but Kate said, as though she had been expecting it: ‘Did he drown himself, Philip?’

  He nodded. ‘Badger saw him. I think he knew that it was too late to save him, but he plunged in off the bridge, and got his body to the shore. When I reached the lake he was holding him in his arms, and – Well, never mind! The poor old chap is all to pieces: said he was the only person who had ever loved Torquil, which is true, I suppose, though why he should have loved him God only knows! Torquil treated him like a dog.’ He paused, regarding Kate with sudden intensity. ‘Why did you say that? Did you know he had drowned himself ?’

  She made a helpless gesture. ‘No. I don’t know, but when Sarah told me that Badger was searching the woods for him – it flashed across my mind that he once told me – oh, on my very first day here, when he took me down to the bridge! – that he often thought how pleasant it would be to drown. I didn’t think he meant it, but he did, poor Torquil, he did!’

  Her voice broke, and she turned away, battling with her tears. Philip said slowly: ‘I believe he did think it pleasant. There’s no sign that he struggled to save himself: I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look more peaceful. If I had been here – if I had known what he meant to do – I must have stopped him, but – I say this in all seriousness, Kate – I’m thankful that I was not here. For him, this is a most merciful end. When you’ve seen him – oh, no, don’t shudder! There’s nothing to distress you! – I believe you won’t feel his death a tragedy.’

  She blew her nose, and said, trying to speak cheerfully: ‘No, I know it isn’t a tragedy. Not his death! But I can’t help thinking of his life, Philip! How lonely he was, and how unhappy!’

  ‘He wasn’t always unhappy, my darling. When he was a little chap he was the most engaging scamp – tumbling in and out of mischief. I was used to think that he must be lonely, but I’ve come to realize that perhaps it was only when he grew older that he felt the want of companionship.’

  ‘And truer words than that, sir, you’ll never speak!’ said Sarah. ‘Children don’t miss what they’ve never had, so you don’t want to grieve over what’s past, Miss Kate! You think of what the poor boy’s future would have been, and thank God he’s been saved from it! Where have you laid him, Mr Philip?’

  ‘On his own bed. I carried him in through the West Wing entrance, and helped Badger to strip him, and put him into his nightshirt.’ A twisted smile just touched his stern mouth. He looked at Kate, and said: ‘You might suppose him to be peacefully sleeping: no more than that.’

  She wiped away her tears, and went to him, saying simply: ‘Take me to see him, Philip. I – I should like to see him once more.’

  He caught her hand, and kissed it. ‘I will take you, but first I must have a word with Mrs Nidd about your journey. My darling, I had meant to have gone with you, but I can’t leave my uncle at this present. I believe you wouldn’t wish me to. After the inquests, and the funerals, I shall come to you, and with a special licence in my pocket, I warn you! Mrs Nidd, will you take these bills? There should be enough to pay all the expenses of the journey. You will be later in starting than I had planned, but you should be able to reach Woburn tonight. Direct the post-boys to set you down at the George, and mention my name: I have frequently stayed there. Be sure to engage a private parlour! If anything should happen to delay you on the road, break the journey at Newport-Pagnell: there are two very tolerable houses there, the Swan and the Sergeant. I fancy –’

  He was interrupted. Kate, who had been listening to these instructions with a blank look of incomprehension on her face, said, in bewilderment: ‘But what are you talking about, Philip? There can be no question of my going to London! How could you think I would leave Staplewood at such a moment?’

  He kissed her hand again, and held it in a strong clasp. ‘Bless you, my little love!’ he said, in a much moved voice. ‘But I wish you to go. I know how hateful Staplewood must have become to you, and I know, too, just how unpleasant – how harrowing – it is going to be, until this appalling business is over. I want to get you safely away before we are plunged into all the degrading consequences of two such deaths. Mrs Nidd, I know you will support me!’

  ‘Well, no, Mr Philip!’ responded Sarah apologetically. ‘In fact, if Miss Kate had said other than what she has said I’d have given her a thundering scold! She’ll be marrying you for better or worse, sir, and if she has the worse before she’s riveted to you, she’ll be luckier than most! A pretty thing it would be if she was to sherry off with me when you’ve got a peck of troubles hung round your neck! Yes, and if that’s the sort of hen-hearted girl you think she is it has me in a puzzle to know why you offered for her! A rare pickle you’d find yourself in if she was to scour off !’

  He looked to be very much taken aback, but the ready laughter sprang to Kate’s eyes, and she said: ‘That’s very true! You may be able to deal with Gaston, but not with Mrs Thorne, believe me! You would be excessively uncomfortable if you had no one here to keep house for you – and, which is much more important, so would Sir Timothy be! So you may put those bills back in your pocket, sir – and stop insulting me!’ She lifted his hand, which was still clasping hers, and laid her cheek against it. ‘Poor Philip!’ she said softly. ‘I know, my dear, I know! Pray don’t ask me to go away!’

  His hand tightened round hers; Mrs Nidd said: ‘If you’ll pardon the liberty, sir, the person I’d be glad to see the back of is the doctor, for I can’t abide him, and nor can’t Miss Kate! A regular Captain Sharp, that’s what he is, and the way you rattled him off was a pleasure to listen to! Let alone he’s been living as high as a coach-horse here, shot-free, if he hasn’t been feathering his nest you may call me a widgeon!’

  That drew a smile from him. He said: ‘I shouldn’t dare!’

  ‘Are you going to send him away, Philip?’

  ‘Not immediately. He is quite as anxious to make himself scarce as you are to see his back, Mrs Nidd, but I’ve made it plain to him that I’ve no intention of permitting him to leave Staplewood until after the inquests. His evidence – if he says what he has himself suggested he should say! – will be of the first importance. My uncle is not a religious man, but I don’t think he could bear it if the verdict at the inquest made it impossible for us to bury Torquil in the Churchyard, amongst his ancestors. Delabole has it in his power to convince the jury that when Torquil took his own life he was not in the possession of his senses. He can do that, and he will do it.’ He paused, and after hesitating for a moment, said, with the glimmer of a smile: ‘He is a rogue, and a toadeater – everything that is most contemptible! But he was never unkind to Torquil! Oh, he infuriated him with his tactlessness – and got Turkish treatment for it! – but he might, without hindrance, have subjected Torquil to the sort of harsh usage which must have made the unfortunate boy fear him. That he didn’t do so – and God knows Torquil gave him cause enough! – must stand to his credit. I think he was genuinely fond of Torquil, and I am pretty certain that Minerva’s charming scheme to marry the boy to you, Kate, frightened him. But once having fallen under her domination he lacked the courage to break free from her shackles. He has no more pluck than a dunghill cock, but –’ He paused, and said ruefully: ‘He took good care of my uncle. I’ve no doubt Minerva paid him handsomely to do so, for it was all to her advantage to keep Sir Timothy alive, but – well, I must be grateful to him for that at least! That my uncle’s health is so much improved – there was a time, you know, when I lived in hourly dread of hearing that he was dead – stands very much to his credit – and