She became serious again as she recalled the mysterious hints Lady Broome had several times dropped. She had not actually accused Philip of trying to kill his cousin, but she had said that he coveted Staplewood, and his uncle’s title. The only real charge she had brought against him was that he had a bad influence over Torquil. Kate thought that if he exercised any influence at all – which was doubtful – it was a good one; and was intelligent enough to guess that Lady Broome would consider any other influence than her own a bad one. She lay down again, grimacing. Whoever Torquil’s bride might be, she would find herself with the devil of a mother-in-law. ‘And it won’t be me!’ she said, snuggling her cheek into the pillow.
Ten
Kate found her aunt alone in the breakfast-parlour next morning, and seized the opportunity to ask her if she did not think that it was time to bring her visit to an end. Lady Broome seemed amused, and said: ‘No: why should I?’
‘I don’t believe it, but if Torquil is developing a tendre for me, ma’am, I feel I ought to remove myself.’
‘Why, if you don’t believe it? Are you so anxious to leave us?’
‘Oh, no, no, ma’am!’
‘I’m glad of that. I have done my best to make you happy.’
‘Yes, and I have been happy!’ Kate assured her. ‘You have been more than kind, and I shan’t know how to be contented, away from you, and dear Sir Timothy! And Staplewood, of course. The thing is that I must not encourage Torquil to dangle after me, and I shall find it awkward to keep a proper distance, after the habits of easy intercourse we have acquired. If I treat him with the cool civility of a stranger he will demand to know what he has done to offend me, perhaps, and what could I say?’
‘My dear child, what a great fuss about nothing! You will go on as before, and I am persuaded you will know how to depress any fit of gallantry. I expect you will do just as you ought: you have such superior sense!’
‘But –’
‘I should be very hurt if you were to leave Staplewood before the end of the summer,’ said Lady Broome. ‘It would be an unkindness which I cannot think I have deserved.’
Aghast, Kate stammered: ‘No, no, dear aunt! But in the circumstances – after what you said to me last night –’
‘My dear, I told you to think it over. You have had no time to do so as yet, have you?’
In the middle of trying to tell her aunt, with civility, that no stretch of time would cause her to alter her decision, Kate was interrupted by the tempestuous entrance of Torquil, closely followed by the doctor. ‘Mama!’ said Torquil explosively. ‘I’ve seen a heron by the lake!’
‘Good-morning, Torquil!’ said his mother, in repressive accents.
‘Oh, good-morning, ma’am – good-morning, Kate! Did you hear what I said to you, Mama?’
‘Very clearly: you have seen a heron by the lake! Will you have coffee, or tea?’
‘Tea – it don’t signify! The thing is that the gun room is locked, and Pennymore says you have the key to it!’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, give it to me!’ said Torquil. ‘I must shoot that heron!’
‘Oh, no !’ exclaimed Kate impulsively.
‘Indeed no!’ said Lady Broome. ‘My son, you know I have the greatest horror of guns! I do beg you won’t start shooting things! What I endured when your father was used to have shooting-parties! I was for ever on the jump, because I cannot accustom myself to sudden bangs, and I have the greatest dread that there will be a fatal accident!’
‘Oh, gammon!’ said Torquil rudely. He turned his head, as his cousin came into the room, and demanded: ‘Philip! Is there any danger of a fatal accident, if one goes out shooting?’
Mr Philip Broome, after collectively greeting the assembled company, replied: ‘Danger to what?’
‘People, of course!’
‘Well, that depends on the man who is handling the gun. Coffee, if you please, Minerva!’
‘Exactly so!’ said the doctor. ‘None at all if that man were Sir Timothy, or yourself, but every danger if that man were a novice!’
Torquil reddened angrily. ‘Is that meant for me? Whose fault is it that I’m a novice?’
‘Not mine, my dear boy!’
‘No! My mother’s!’
‘I am afraid that is true,’ confessed Lady Broome. ‘By the time you were old enough for your father to teach you how to handle a gun, he had been obliged to abandon his shooting. I own I was thankful that I was spared any more shocks to my nerves!’
‘That won’t fadge! There was Philip, or any of the keepers!’
‘But I don’t recall that you ever, until today, expressed a wish to be taught how to shoot!’ she said mildly.
‘What if I didn’t? I ought to have been taught!’ He sat glowering, and suddenly said: ‘And, what’s more, I ought to have the key to the gun room! I think Papa is a regular dog-in-the-manger! He can’t shoot himself now, but –’
‘You will be silent, Torquil!’
‘I won’t! Philip, will you teach me how to shoot?’
‘No, certainly not! I once tried to teach you how to carry a gun, without waving it about, and pointing it at anything rather than the ground, and I failed miserably.’
‘That was when I was twelve!’
‘You will have to hold me excused. Fight it out with your mother!’
‘She says she can’t bear the noise! Did you ever hear such balderdash? As though she would be startled by a shot fired down by the lake! I’ve seen a heron there!’
‘Have you? What of it?’
‘Good God, Philip, unless it’s shot it will have every fish in the water!’
‘It’s welcome to them,’ said Philip, unmoved. ‘Nothing but roach and sticklebacks. Your father was never fond of fishing, so he didn’t stock the lake. When I was a youngster I was used to waste hours hopefully casting a line on to it, until my uncle gently broke it to me that there were no trout in it. A severe blow!’
‘Then I do trust that the heron’s life may be spared!’ said Kate. ‘I’ve never seen one – only pictures – and I would like to!’
‘Well, you will have to get up very early in the morning,’ Philip warned her.
‘If I can’t shoot it, I can trap it!’ said Torquil, his eyes brightening.
‘No! Oh, no, no, no!’ cried Kate sharply.
‘You will do no such thing, Torquil,’ said Lady Broome. ‘I will have no trapping at Staplewood, and I wish to hear no more talk of killing. I trust, Philip, that you spent an agreeable evening, and had a tolerable dinner? You said that Mr Templecombe had invited you to take pot-luck with him, and in my experience that means cold mutton, or hash!’
‘True, but I knew I was safe in Gurney’s hands, ma’am. Most of the rooms were under holland covers, and I rather fancy we were waited on by the pantry-boy, but the dinner was excellent. Gurney allowed Lady Templecombe to take the upper servants to London, but when she tried to wrest his cook from him she drew blank.’
‘How very selfish of him!’
‘Not at all. He gave her leave to engage an expensive French chef for the Season, so she was well-satisfied.’
Torquil, who had been sitting in brooding silence, got up abruptly, and left the room. Kate saw her aunt look quickly at the doctor, who said: ‘I too must beg to be excused, my lady,’ and followed Torquil.
‘May I know who holds the key to the gun room, Minerva?’
‘I do.’
Philip nodded, and began to carve some cold beef. When he had finished breakfast, he went away to visit Sir Timothy, and remained with him for an hour. Meanwhile, Kate tried to continue her discussion with Lady Broome, but found her evasive, and disinclined to take her seriously. When Kate said, in desperation, that under no circumstances would she marry Torquil, she laughed, and replied: ‘W
ell, you have told me that twice already, my love!’
‘I think you don’t believe me, ma’am. But I am perfectly sincere!’
‘Oh, yes, I believe that! You may change your mind.’
‘I promise you I shall not. I – I don’t wish to leave you, but don’t you think I had better do so, ma’am?’
‘No, I don’t, you foolish child! What a piece of work you do make of it! I begin to regret that I ever mentioned the matter to you: I did so only because I wished to assure you that I shouldn’t oppose the match. Now I must go and talk to Chatburn: you haven’t met him, have you? He is Sir Timothy’s bailiff, and a very worthy man, but aptly named, so you must not be surprised if you don’t see me again this morning!’
Kate was left feeling that she had been annihilated. Lady Broome had made her realize that to flee from Staplewood would be as ungrateful as it would be theatrical, and she was passionately determined to show her aunt that she was neither. She would be obliged to remain at Staplewood until the end of the summer, but she was uneasy. She knew that Torquil liked her; she knew that he was beginning to fancy himself in love with her; but while she had no doubt that he would abandon his suit to her the instant more attractive metal came within his range she doubted her ability to cast a damper on his pretensions without exciting his precarious temper, or causing him to fall into one of his fits of dejection. It was only twenty-four hours since he had announced that he would like to marry her, and she had snubbed him. He had flung away in a fury, and, although no evil consequences seemed to have resulted, she knew that the effects of his rages on his constitution were dreaded by his mother, and his doctor. She foresaw that it would be difficult to hold him at arm’s length without provoking or wounding him, and tried, quite unavailingly, to think how it could be done.
When Lady Broome had left her, she went out on to the terrace, but a gusty wind soon drove her to the shrubbery, where she walked up and down for some time, before sitting down on one of the benches which had been placed there for Sir Timothy’s convenience. She sat there for twenty minutes, her brain occupied with the problems confronting her, and her fingers plaiting and unplaiting the fringe of her shawl. There was a furrow between her brows, and although her eyes were fixed on her busy hands it was plain that her thoughts were abstracted.
‘What troubles you, Cousin Kate?’
She looked up quickly, startled, for she had not heard Mr Philip Broome’s approach. He was standing a little way away, and she had the feeling that he had been there for several minutes, watching her. She exclaimed, with a tolerable assumption of liveliness: ‘Good God, sir, how you did make me jump! I didn’t hear you.’
He came forward unhurriedly, and sat down on the bench beside her. ‘I know you didn’t: you were too intent on your work!’
‘On my work?’ she echoed, bewildered. Her eyes followed the direction of his levelled quizzing-glass, and she flushed, and said, in some confusion: ‘Oh, my fringe! How absurd! It is one of my bad habits to make plaits, or knots, or pleats when I’m – when my mind is otherwhere!’
‘Yes?’ he said. ‘And where was your mind?’
‘Oh, in a dozen places at least!’ she said lightly.
He was silent for a minute, and began to unplait her fringe. Since he was looking down at it, Kate had the opportunity to study his profile. He had regular features, and a well-shaped head, and was generally held to be passably good-looking. Kate decided that he was a very handsome man: not, of course, as handsome as Torquil, but far more virile. His was a strong face, and if his mouth was stern, and his eyes very keen and hard, she knew that his smile was unexpectedly attractive, warming his eyes, and softening the lines about his mouth. He might be inflexible, but it was impossible to suspect him of being unscrupulous.
He raised his head, turning it slightly to look at Kate. He was not smiling, but although his eyes were searching they were kind. He repeated: ‘What troubles you, Kate?’
‘My dear sir, nothing!’
‘No, don’t try to hoax me! What has happened to put you in a worry?’
‘Merely a small, private matter, sir.’
‘That’s taught me to mind my own business,’ he observed.
She could not help laughing. ‘I wish it may have done so! The truth is that I’m confronted with a problem, and haven’t made up my mind how to settle it.’
‘Perhaps I can help you.’
‘Thank you, I don’t require help!’
He hesitated. ‘Or advice? Mine is that you should leave this place.’
This made her remember that she had a crow to pluck with him. She stiffened, and her eyes flashed a challenge. ‘Why, sir?’ she demanded.
Again he hesitated, before saying: ‘Do you recall that I warned you yesterday that you might be required to make what I believe would be a sacrifice, in return for the benefits bestowed on you?’
‘Very clearly! And you meant, did you not, that my aunt might propose to me that I should marry Torquil?’ She waited for his answer, and, when he nodded, swept on, in a voice vibrant with wrath: ‘And when you came here, and – and looked at me as if I were a – a designing trollop, you believed I was in a string with my aunt! Didn’t you?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘Yes, I did. I beg your pardon! Does it mitigate the offence when I assure you that I very soon learned that I had misjudged you?’
It did, of course, but she saw no reason why she should forgive him so easily, or deny herself the satisfaction of raking him down, so she evaded this question, and gave him a rare trimming. He bore it meekly, but with such an appreciative twinkle in his eye that she was goaded into saying: ‘And if you had been within my reach, sir, when I realized what you thought of me, I would have boxed your ears!’
‘Most understandable!’ he said sympathetically. ‘But I am within your reach now, so if you would like to box my ears, pray do so! I won’t attempt to defend myself.’
‘There is nothing I should like more,’ she assured him, ‘but I hope I have too much propriety of taste to allow myself to be carried away by indignation!’
‘I was hoping that too. But don’t you mean too much sense of justice? It was very bad of me, but you must remember that I’d never met you.’
‘Then you shouldn’t have prejudged me!’ she said severely.
‘I know I shouldn’t. I hope it may be a lesson to me.’
‘So do I, but I doubt it!’ she retorted, trying not to laugh. However, having discharged her spleen, her natural good-humour reasserted itself, and she did laugh, and said candidly: ‘As a matter of fact, when I came to think it over, I did perceive that there was a good deal of excuse for you. It must have looked as if I were trying to lure Torquil into matrimony. The thing was that it never entered my head that I ought to hold him at a distance, because he is only a schoolboy, and I am years older than he is. And my aunt told me that he lacked young companionship, which indeed he does, poor boy! To own the truth, sir, I am excessively sorry for him.’
He looked at her, an arrested expression in his eyes. ‘Are you?’
‘Well, of course I am! Are not you?’
‘I am very sorry for him,’ he agreed.
She thought he sounded indifferent, and suspected that he had no liking for Torquil. ‘I know you don’t think so,’ she said, ‘but I believe he would be very much better if he were not cooped up here. It seems to me quite shocking!’
‘Does it?’
‘Yes, it does! My aunt believes that London would knock him up, and dreads his being ill. I fancy she is afraid he would go the pace too fast, and commit some extravagant folly, through being so excitable. I expect she is quite right, because he’s green, and would be bound to hob-nob with the sort of young man who is always ripe for a spree: I daresay you know what I mean?’
‘Choice spirits,’ he said, with the glimmer of a smile.
‘Is that what they are called? Well, I do see that that might be dangerous, and I perfectly understand my aunt’s anxiety. But what I do not understand is why he must be kept at Staplewood the whole time, and never permitted to go anywhere ! One would have supposed that my aunt would have wished to try if one of the watering-places might not be of benefit to him, but –’ She stopped, and said, in a conscience-stricken tone: ‘I didn’t mean to say that. I know I should not.’
‘Are you afraid I might tell Minerva? I shan’t.’
‘No, but I shouldn’t criticize her.’
‘On the contrary! You should – and, in fact, you do!’
‘Yes,’ she confessed. ‘I can’t help doing so, but I feel it’s ungrateful, because she has been so kind to me.’
‘Are you fond of her?’ he asked abruptly.
She began to plait her fringe again, and did not answer immediately, but when he laid his hand over her unquiet ones, checking her, she looked up, and said, with an embarrassed flush: ‘Oh, dear! was I at that again? No, I’m afraid I’m not fond of her. Not very fond of her, that is! I don’t know why, because she seems to be fond of me, and in general, you know –’