Cousin Kate Read online

  ‘Oh, no, not a bit!’ replied Kate cheerfully. ‘After all, I’m not at all likely to be snatched up by a party of guerrilleros, am I?’

  ‘Extremely unlikely! Yes, that is the package, Ellen, but there is no need to enter the room as though you had been shot from a gun. My love, this is a shawl for you to put round your shoulders: I hope you will like it. I shall leave you now. When you are dressed, Ellen will show you the way to the Long Drawing-room.’

  She moved towards the door, and paused before it, looking at Ellen with raised brows. With a gasp, the girl scurried to open it for her, curtsying yet again. Having carefully shut it, she turned, gulped, and said: ‘If you please, miss, I haven’t finished unpacking your trunk!’

  ‘Well, you haven’t had time, have you? Oh, pray don’t keep on dropping curtsies! It makes me feel giddy! Have you found a pair of silk stockings yet? I think I should wear them, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, miss!’

  ‘I bought them yesterday,’ disclosed Kate, rummaging through the trunk. ‘My old nurse said it was a sinful waste of money, but I thought my aunt would expect me to have at least one pair. Here they are! The first I’ve ever had!’

  ‘Oo, aren’t they elegant ?’ breathed Ellen, awed.

  ‘Well, I think so! Tell me, how much time have I before dinner?’

  ‘Only half an hour, miss. Being as it’s half-past six, and dinner’s at seven. Generally it’s at six, but my lady had it put off, in case you’d be late. If you please, miss!’

  Kate laid her furs down on the bed, and began to unbutton her pelisse, glancing thoughtfully round the room. ‘It was very kind of her to make so many preparations for me,’ she said. ‘Are those blinds new?’

  ‘Yes, miss, and the bed-curtains, made to match!’ said Ellen, with vicarious pride. ‘Such a time as we all had with them, Mrs Quedgeley, which is my lady’s sewing-woman, saying as they couldn’t be made up, not under a sennight! So we was all of us set to stitching, and Mrs Thorne – that’s the housekeeper, miss – read to us, to improve our minds.’

  ‘Goodness! Did it improve your mind?’

  ‘Oh, no, miss!’ answered Ellen, shocked. ‘I didn’t understand it.’

  Kate laughed, tossing her hat on to the bed, and running her fingers through her flattened curls. ‘My aunt must have been very sure she would bring me back with her,’ she commented.

  ‘Oh, yes, miss! Everything always has to be just as my lady says.’

  Kate did not reply to this, possibly because she was trying to unfasten her dress. Seeing her in difficulties recalled Ellen to a sense of her new duties, and she hurried to her assistance, even remembering, once Kate had stepped out of the dress, to pour warm water from a brass can into the flowered basin upon the wash-stand, and to direct her attention to the soap, which, she said simply, was a cake of my lady’s own, from Warren’s, with ever such a sweet scent.

  Having washed her face and hands, Kate sat down at the dressing-table, in her petticoat, and vigorously brushed her hair, threading a ribbon through it, and twisting the ringlets round her fingers. Her handmaiden, watching with great interest, said: ‘Lor’, miss! Is it natural ?’

  ‘Yes, quite natural!’ Kate answered, amused. ‘Isn’t it fortunate for me? Now, if you will do up my dress for me – oh, and open the package my aunt gave me! – Good God, what a beautiful shawl! It must be Norwich silk, surely! – Where is my trinket-box?’ She dived into the trunk again, and dragged from its depths a small box, which she opened. After critically inspecting its contents, she selected a modest string of beads, and a posy-ring; and, having clasped the one round her throat, and slipped the other on her finger, disposed the shawl becomingly, and announced that she was now ready.

  ‘Oh, miss, you do look a picture!’ exclaimed her handmaiden involuntarily.

  Heartened by this tribute, Kate drew a resolute breath, and stepped out into the corridor. She was led down it to the hall, and across this to a picture-gallery, where brocade curtains shrouded no fewer than fifteen very tall windows. Wax candles flickered in a number of wall-sconces, but did little to warm the gallery. Kate drew the shawl more closely about her shoulders, and was reminded of a draughty château near Toulouse, where she and her father had had the ill-fortune to be billeted for several weeks.

  ‘This is the anteroom, miss!’ whispered Ellen, opening a door, and walking across the room on tiptoe to where heavy curtains veiled an archway. She pulled one back a little way, signifying, with a jerk of her head and a frightened grimace, that Kate was to pass through the archway.

  There were only two people in the Long Drawing-room, neither of whom was known to Kate. She hesitated, looking enquiringly from one to the other.

  Standing before the fire was a well-preserved gentleman of uncertain age; and lounging on a sofa was the most beautiful youth Kate had ever seen. Under a brow of alabaster were set a pair of large and oddly luminous blue eyes, fringed by long, curling lashes; his nose was classic; his petulant mouth most exquisitely curved; and his pale golden hair looked like silk. He wore it rather long, and one waving strand, whether by accident or design, fell forward across his brow. He pushed it back with a slender white hand, and favoured Kate with the look of a sulky schoolboy.

  His companion came forward, bowing, and smiling. ‘Miss Malvern, is it not? I must make myself known to you: I am Dr Delabole. Torquil, dear boy, where are your manners?’

  This was uttered in a tone of gentle reproof, and had the effect of making Torquil get up, and execute a reluctant bow.

  ‘How do you do?’ said Kate calmly, putting out her hand. ‘I shan’t eat you, you know!’

  Light intensified in his eyes; he laughed delightedly, and took her hand, and stood holding it. ‘Oh, I like you!’ he said impulsively.

  ‘I’m so glad,’ responded Kate, making an attempt to withdraw her hand. His fingers closed on it with surprising strength. She was obliged to request him to let her go. ‘Even if you do like me!’ she said, quizzing him.

  The cloud descended again; he almost flung her hand away, muttering: ‘You don’t like me!’

  ‘Well, I find you excessively uncivil,’ she owned. ‘However, I daresay you are subject to fits of the sullens, and, of course, I don’t know what may have occurred to put you out of temper.’

  For a moment it seemed as if he was furious; then, as he looked at her, the cloud lifted, and he exclaimed: ‘Oh, your eyes are laughing! Yes, I do like you. I’ll beg your pardon, if you wish it.’

  ‘Torquil, Torquil!’ said Dr Delabole, in an admonishing voice. ‘I am afraid, Miss Malvern, you find us in one of our twitty moods, eh, my boy?’

  She could not help feeling that this was a tactless thing to have said; but before she could speak Sir Timothy, with her aunt leaning on his arm, had come into the room, and Lady Broome had exclaimed: ‘Oh, you are before me! Torquil, my son!’ She moved forward, in a cloud of puce satin and gauze, holding out her hands to him. He took one, and punctiliously kissed it; and she laid the other upon his shoulder, compelling him (as it seemed to Kate) to salute her cheek. Retaining her clasp on his hand, she led him up to Kate, saying: ‘I will have no formality! Kate, my love, you will allow me to present you to your Cousin Torquil! Torquil, Cousin Kate!’

  Kate promptly sank into a deep curtsy, to which he responded with a flourishing bow, uttering: ‘Cousin Kate!’

  ‘Cousin Torquil!’

  ‘Dinner is served, my lady,’ announced Pennymore.

  ‘Sir Timothy, will you escort Kate?’ directed her ladyship. ‘She has yet to learn her way about!’

  ‘It will be a pleasure!’ said Sir Timothy, offering his arm with a courtly gesture. ‘A bewildering house, isn’t it? I have often thought so. I should warn you, perhaps, that the food comes quite cold to table, the kitchens being most inconveniently placed.’

  Kate gave a gur