Elizabeth Bailey - Kitty

‘Dash it, who else would it be about?’

Incensed, Kitty exploded. ‘Then why will you not say it? I think it is excessively mean-spirited of you to mention it at all if you don’t mean to tell me what it is. Has it to do with my likeness to Kate? Do you think you have guessed what your aunt would not reveal about me? Oh, tell me, Claud, pray!’

‘Lord, if it was that, of course I should tell you!’

He rose from his seat and began to shift about in the confines of the small parlour, wishing that he had held his tongue. The scheme revolving in his head was fantastic, but it would not do to say a word of it to the girl until he had thoroughly inspected its merits. It was difficult to think with those expressive eyes trained upon him. They were very like Kate’s, but with a velvet sheen that was lacking in his cousin’s. Even in repose—when Kitty had been sitting in a dreamlike state, unaware of his regard—they had been striking.

However, it was not her pretty features that had brought the notion sneaking into his head, but the effect of them upon his aunt Silvia, and the lively apprehension she had exhibited of Lady Blakemere’s reaction should the episode reach her ears.

Claud did not wholly believe that the idea had struck him, but there was no shaking it off. Was it because the girl had herself made mention of it? He had repudiated it then—in no uncertain terms. As well he might. It was madness! Only now that it had planted itself in his head, the temptation was so strong that he doubted he could withstand it. The Countess would be as mad as fire! It was too much to hope that she might go off in an apoplexy, but the blow would assuredly fall hard. Such exhilaration attacked him at the thought that Claud had all to do not to throw caution to the winds on the instant. Kitty’s voice checked him.

‘You look quite murderous! What are you thinking?’ He uttered a short laugh. ‘Thinking of my mother, the Countess.’ He was unaware that his lip curled in a manner that was uncharacteristically sardonic. ‘That’s enough to make anyone look murderous!’

Kitty gave a little shiver, her eyes fixed upon the horrid look in his face. He was the oddest man. All kindness one moment, the next a brutish unpredictable creature. What had his mother done to make him hate her so?

‘Is it your mother who wishes you to marry Kate?’

‘Aunt Silvia wishes for it too, but yes, the Countess took the notion. Only because Grandmama chooses to settle a dowry upon Kate. She pretends it is for Kate’s own sake, but I know better. The Rothleys may lack fortune, but they ain’t precisely paupers. Only the Countess had my father make my aunt an allowance, and she thinks to recover something from it.’

‘But it was kind of her to do that, was it not?’ Claud’s snort was bitter. ‘Don’t run away with that notion! Kind? Nothing of the sort. The Countess cares only for what Society may say of us. She sets store wholly by appearances, and my aunt was not to be suspected of being purse-pinched, regardless of the fact that everybody knows my uncle Rothley wasted much of his substance.’

This glimpse into the lives of a family of whom she was certainly a part threw Kitty into a combination of excitement and frustration. She longed to know more, yet the horrified reception of her advent convinced her that she had no right to pry. No right, and no reason either. What advantage could it be to her to learn the worst? There had been, in her insistence upon a past couched in mystery, a touch of romance. She had guessed at a hint of unlawful beginnings, convinced that she had been the outcome of an illicit liaison between a peer and an equally high-born married lady. Vague and hazy memories had been at root of her piecing together of this history. But gowned in Kitty’s colourful imaginings, it had never been tainted with the disgrace of sordid scandal. At a blow, Claud’s aunt Silvia had destroyed the comforting blanket of childish desire, and exposed Kitty for what she truly was—an outcast.

The bleak reality of her situation, which had been held at bay in the joy of her new gown, came in on her. All at once, she wanted to be back in the familiar surroundings of the Seminary, where if she was valued little, she was at least accepted. She pushed back her chair and got up from the table.

‘Should we not be starting for Paddington, sir?’

The rapid descent of her mood had not been lost on Claud. The forlorn look in those velvet eyes drew his instant compassion. The words were out before he could stop them.

‘We are not going to Paddington. I’ve thought better of that notion and have settled upon a new plan. We are going to Gretna Green.’

Kitty gaped at him. Convinced she could not have heard aright, she uttered a fluttery laugh. ‘You cannot mean you wish to elope with me!’

Did Claud’s features look paler? Had she shocked him? She recalled his horrified reaction when she had merely mentioned his being forced to marry her to make reparation. But if he had indeed said they were going to Gretna Green, he must mean an elopement. He was frowning heavily, his blue gaze clouding.

‘I don’t wish to! At least—’

He broke off, cursing himself for an impetuous fool. He should have held his tongue! Only he hadn’t, and here was the girl, staring at him with those distressful brown eyes that were beginning to show hurt again. He moved to the table, grasping the back of a chair with both hands as if he might draw strength from it.

‘What I mean is, I didn’t intend to say it yet. Been thinking it over, you see, while we were eating.’

‘You have been thinking of taking me to Gretna?’

The disbelief in her voice was patent. He shifted his shoulders, acutely uncomfortable. ‘Not exactly. Thinking of marriage. Only said Gretna because I supposed you to be under age.’ It occurred to him to question this. ‘How old are you? Much of Kate’s age, I’d have thought. She’s nineteen.’

Kitty lifted her chin. ‘Well, I have the advantage of her, for I am one and twenty.’

‘Are you, by Gad?’ uttered Claud eagerly. ‘Then we needn’t go north, after all!’

She was obliged to dash this hope immediately. ‘I should have said almost one and twenty. My birthday is in July.’

Claud’s face fell. ‘That’s a pity. It will have to be Gretna then. Can’t marry you otherwise without the consent of your guardians.’

‘I have no g-guardians,’ objected Kitty unsteadily. ‘And Mrs Duxford would have a f-fit!’

Her pulse was behaving in a distressingly irregular fashion, and her brain was reeling at the realisation that Claud had indeed put forward the idea of marrying her. The protest bubbled up without volition.

‘And when I said it in your curricle, you nearly had a fit!’

‘I know, but—’

‘You said distinctly that I must not think of such a thing!’

‘Yes, because I hadn’t thought it over. Changed my mind since then.’

Kitty eyed him in mounting perplexity, sinking back down into her chair. He did not look as if he had taken leave of his senses, but then she scarce knew him. Except to be aware that he was both rash and impulsive. And both to her cost. Oh, he was mad! It was an impossible notion, she had at least brains enough to see that. She drew a resolute breath, gripping her fingers together in her lap.

‘You cannot have considered, sir. There can be no question of our being married. Only think what your aunt Silvia would say!’ In automatic mimicry of his obese aunt, she uttered, ‘Don’t do it, Devenick, I implore you!’

A shout of laughter was surprised out of Claud. ‘That’s very good, Kitty! Sounds exactly like her.’

But Kitty, whose talent in aping the voices of others was almost second nature, was hardly aware of doing it. She brushed it impatiently aside.