Джорджетт Хейер: Cousin Kate

“So I might, agreed Lady Broome, looking amused. “So might you take me in dislike! If that were to happen there would be nothing for it but to part. You wouldn’t be my prisoner, you know! Come! Let us sit down, and talk the matter over! You must tell me, if you please, how in the world you come to be unmarried, for it seems to me to be quite extraordinary. Your mama must have been very beautiful: I don’t remember my brother very clearly, but I don’t think you resemble him much, do you?”

“No, admitted Kate, blushing faintly. “That is, I was thought to favour my mother, but she was much more beautiful than I am.”

“And she died when you were twelve? Poor child! I wish I might have known, but I was still in the schoolroom when my brother married her, and only a child when he first joined, so that he was almost a stranger to me. Do you blame me for not having tried, in later years, to better my acquaintance with him? Pray do not!”

“Oh, no!” Kate said. “He did not, either.” She glanced up into that handsome countenance, a tiny crease between her brows, and in her eyes a doubtful question. “ Don’t you remember him, ma’am? He remembered you!”

“Very likely: he was six-and-twenty when I was sixteen. I only wish he may have remembered something to my credit, but when I look back upon myself I realize that at that age I must have been a detestable girl, with a very good conceit of myself, and my head stuffed with every sort of ambitious notion, from making a brilliant marriage to winning the admiration of all by some improbable deed of heroism! I fear my governess was to blame: she was much addicted to reading sentimental romances, and she permitted me to do so too.”

Kate smiled, reassured. “Papa did say that you were very ambitious, she admitted.

“He might well! I hope he knew that I outgrew such nonsense, and instead of marrying a prince or a duke fell in love with my dear Sir Timothy. I must tell you, my dear, that he was almost as pleased as I was when he learned of your existence. He would have accompanied me to London if I had allowed him to do so, but I was obliged to forbid it. You see, I have to take great care of him: he doesn’t enjoy good health, and the journey would have quite knocked him up. So he charged me with a message, that a warm welcome awaits you at Staplewood.”

“How kind—how very kind he must be!” Kate exclaimed, much moved. “Pray tell him how grateful I am, ma’am! But—”

“No, no, let us have no buts!” interrupted Lady Broome. “You shall come to Staplewood on a visit merely. You can have no objection to spending a month or two in the country. Then, if you are still determined to seek another situation, I must try if I can find one for you.” She smiled at Kate’s quick look of inquiry. “Yes, I can, you know—and a better one than you could discover for yourself. However, we shan’t think of that yet. In another fortnight we shall be in May, and must hope that this odiously sharp wind will have blown itself out. Ah, you can’t conceive of any place more beautiful than Staplewood in summer!”

It was too tempting; it would be too churlish to refuse. Kate stammered her thanks, was silenced, and found herself listening to a description of the household.

“Sir Timothy,” said Lady Broome, “is many years older than I am, and has become very frail. I am his second wife, you must know, and my son, Torquil, is his only surviving child. He is some years younger than you.” She hesitated, looking all at once a little stern; then she sighed, and continued quietly: “I am sorry to say that his constitution is sickly. It has never been possible to send him to school. He is under the care of Dr Delabole, who also attends Sir Timothy, and lives with us. So you see, my dear, why I have so much wished for a daughter! I am a very lonely woman.”

Feeling all the embarrassment of one made the recipient of such a confidence, Kate murmured: “Yes. I mean, I see!”

Lady Broome leaned forward to pat her hand. “You don’t, of course, but never mind! you will! Now, we must decide, must we not, what it will be proper to pay your nurse for having housed you. Do you think—”

“Oh, no!” Kate exclaimed, recoiling. “No, no, ma’am! I beg you will not offer Sarah money! I shall give them all presents—Joe, and Mr Nidd, and the nephews as well!—but I must pay for them out of my own savings!”

“Very well!” said her ladyship, rising, and drawing her pelisse about her again, and buttoning it at the throat. Her eyes ran over her niece; she smiled, and held out a gloved hand. “ Au revoir , then! I am putting up at the Clarendon. You will take a hackney coach, and join me there tomorrow: it is understood? Good! Now, do you think that Joe, or Mr Nidd, or even one of the nephews, could procure me a hack?”

“Yes, ma’am, on the instant!” replied Kate, starting up from her chair, and running to the door. “Only wait, I do implore you!”

Pausing merely to cram a hat over her dusky locks, and to huddle a cloak about her person, she darted down the stairs, and out into the yard, to be pulled up in her tracks by Mr Nidd, who, from his vantage point on the balcony, saw her, and briskly commanded her to stop. Rising, not without difficulty, from his seat, he adjured her not to be a hoyden, but to come back into the house this instant. “A’h, know!” he said. “Going to summon a hack, ain’t you? Well, you won’t, see? You’ll leave that to them as is better able than you to do it, my girl! Back with you into the house, miss! And take that nasty hat off your head!”

“It is not a nasty hat!” retorted Kate indignantly.

But, as Mr Nidd had dived through a doorway out of sight, this reply fell on the ambient air; and a few minutes later Old Tom came grumbling out of the stables, and hobbled across the yard to the gateway.

“Oh, Tom!” uttered Kate, in remorseful accents.

“You let him be!” said Mr Nidd, emerging from the stables behind him. “Joe and Jos and Ted being gone off with loads, there ain’t nobody but that gormless hunk, Will, in the stables, and likely he’d come back with the oldest hack in the rank. You get back up them stairs, missy, and go on gabbing to her ladyship!”

This, however, proved to be unnecessary, her ladyship having descended the stairs, and penetrated to the kitchen, where she found Sarah testing the heat of the oven with her hand, prior to inserting a large steak pie. “Oh, don’t let me disturb you, Mrs Nidd!” she begged. “Dear me, how cosy it is in here, and what a good smell! I shall sit down on this chair, and watch you.” She seated herself as she spoke, and smiled graciously at her hostess. “Well! you will be happy to know that I have prevailed upon Miss Kate to pay us a long visit,” she disclosed. “I wonder would you be good enough to let me know her measurements? And the colours she prefers. Ah, thank you! What forethought!”

She stretched out her hand , and Sarah put the list into it, looking frowningly at her. It seemed to Sarah that she had taken possession of the house; and the feeling that her mantle was cast over its inmates, and even over the stables, grew upon her, and could not be shaken off. You couldn’t say that she was condescending, for she was very affable. Patronage! that’s what it was: my lady stooping from her height to be kind to a carrier’s wife! No doubt she would be just as kind to Joe, and would laugh easily at Mr Nidd’s sallies. She was putting the paper away in her reticule, and had drawn out her purse. Sarah stiffened, but she only selected half-a-crown from amongst the coins it contained, and laid it on the table. “Will you give that to the stable-boy who has gone to summon up a hackney coach for me?” she asked.