‘The worst escort possible!’ said Kate, not mincing matters. ‘How dared you, cousin, dash off like that, without warning me that you meant to make a race of it? Not that this animal has the least notion of showing the way! Is he touched in the wind, or gone to soil?’
‘Neither! Just lazy!’ answered Torquil, bursting into laughter. ‘Or perhaps your hand is strange to him!’
She was relieved to see that his rage had apparently burnt itself out, and said, in mock dudgeon: ‘Let me tell you, cousin, that I am held to ride with a particularly light hand, and an easy bit! Where are we going?’
‘Oh, anywhere!’ he said bitterly, leading the way through the gate, which the lodge-keeper was holding open. ‘All roads are alike to me, when I have a spy following me!’
She thought it best to ignore this. She said prosaically: ‘Well, they are naturally all the same to me, so take me where I can enjoy a gallop – if Jupiter can be persuaded to gallop!’
After this, she set herself to win him from his ill-humour, and succeeded pretty well, until a farm-gate was reached. He rode up to open it, and his horse, which seemed to be a nervous animal, sweating, fretting, and continually tossing up his head, shied away from it, and reared up, nearly unseating Torquil. He cursed him, getting him under control, but before he could make a second attempt to bring him up to the gate, Whalley had ridden up, and had opened it for him. He flushed angrily, and relapsed into the sulks, vouchsafing no reply to Kate’s next remark. More than a little exasperated, she said: ‘Oh, do come out of the mopes! You are a dead bore, Torquil!’
‘I’m not in the mopes! I’m angry!’
‘Why should I be made to suffer? You are behaving like a peevish schoolboy.’
His colour rose again; he said through clenched teeth: ‘I beg your pardon!’
‘Muchas gracias!’ she flashed, and urged Jupiter into a canter.
Torquil soon caught up with her, demanding to know what she had said. When she repeated it, he asked interestedly if it was Spanish.
‘Yes, and it means thank you!’
‘I thought it did. Are you a Spanish scholar?’
She laughed. ‘No, alas! I only speak soldiers’ Spanish.’
‘What was it like, following the drum?’ he asked curiously.
Glad to find that he had emerged from the sullens, she was very ready to encourage him. She favoured him with an amusing description of the conditions she had endured, several times making him laugh, and answering all his eager questions to the best of her ability. He was just demanding an account of the Battle of Vittoria when suddenly he broke off, and ejaculated: ‘Oh, here come the Templecombes! Famous!’
He spurred forward to meet the two riders who were cantering towards them, and Kate heard him call out: ‘Dolly!’ and saw him lean forward to clasp the hand of a very pretty girl. Following at a more sedate pace, she had the leisure to observe the Templecombes. She judged them to be brother and sister, for there was a strong likeness between them, and although there was also considerable disparity of age the man was certainly not old enough to be the girl’s father. Kate judged him to be in his late twenties; the girl, she thought, was not out of her teens. As she came up to them, she saw that the child was blushing adorably, and drew her own conclusions. Then Torquil turned his head, and summoned her to be introduced. ‘Kate, here is Miss Templecombe! And her brother! Dolly – Gurney, this is my cousin Kate! – Miss Malvern!’
Mr Templecombe bowed, sweeping off his modish hat; his sister smiled shyly, murmuring something about being ‘so pleased!’ and Torquil, not allowing her time to say more, instantly intervened, saying, with a slight stammer: ‘How is this? I had supposed you to be in London! Has your come-out been postponed?’
‘No – oh, no! But we don’t go to London until the end of the month!’ replied Miss Templecombe, in a soft little voice.
‘When the balls will be in full swing!’ said Kate, smiling at her. ‘Does your mama mean to present you, Miss Templecombe?’
‘Yes – and I am to wear a hoop, and feathers!’ disclosed Miss Templecombe.
‘Antiquated, ain’t it?’ said her brother. ‘Can’t see, myself, why females set so much store by these Drawing-rooms. Or why,’ he added, with feeling, ‘they should wish to be escorted to ’em! Y’know, Miss Malvern, you have to rig yourself out in fancy-dress! No, no, I’m not bamming you! Knee-breeches, and chapeau-bras! Give you my word! Orders, too! Not that I have any, but don’t it all go to show ?’
‘Oh, Gurney!’ remonstrated his sister. ‘As though you hadn’t worn precisely the same dress at Almack’s!’
‘The only time I ever went to Almack’s,’ returned Mr Templecombe, ‘was on the occasion of my own come-out, Dolly, and I’ll be vastly obliged to you if you don’t recall it to my memory!’ He shuddered eloquently. ‘The most insipid evening I ever spent in all my life!’ he declared impressively. ‘Nothing to drink but lemonade or weak orgeat, and I sank myself beneath reproach – oh, fathoms beneath reproach! – by inviting a girl in her first season to stand up with me for the waltz! You may imagine the looks that were cast at me!’
‘I can, of course,’ admitted Kate, ‘though I’ve never been to Almack’s. I’ve never been presented either, so if you are thinking of asking my advice on the management of your hoop, I’m afraid you will miss the cushion!’
‘Oh, no! Mama will show me, just as she showed my sisters,’ said Miss Templecombe simply. ‘And they all three made good marriages!’
Kate glanced apprehensively at Torquil, wondering how he would receive this naïve remark. He did not appear to have paid the least heed to it: his eyes were ardently devouring Dorothea’s exquisite countenance, and there was a smile on his lips. Kate could not forbear the thought that they were a singularly beautiful couple, and stole a look at Mr Templecombe’s face. It told her nothing, but she had a feeling that he did not view the very obvious attachment with complaisance. As though to lend colour to this presentiment, he pulled out his watch, exclaiming: ‘Dolly, if we don’t make haste, Mama will be sending out a search-party! ’Servant, Miss Malvern! Yours, Torquil!’
‘Oh, we’ll go along with you!’ said Torquil, wheeling his horse. He said, over his shoulder, tossing the words at Kate: ‘You’ve no objection, coz, have you?’
‘No, none. And much good it would do me if I had!’ she added.
Torquil did not hear her, but Gurney Templecombe did, and burst out laughing. Ranging alongside her, he remarked quizzically: ‘Well said, ma’am!’
‘I’m afraid it was very ill said!’ she confessed. ‘It fell on the wrong ears! And I know, of course, that every allowance ought to be made for him. My aunt tells me that he is not at all robust, besides suffering from severe migraines, so that it’s no wonder he should be a trifle spoilt.’
‘Mm, yes! Handsome boy, ain’t he?’ drawled Gurney, looking after the young couple with a frown in his sleepy eyes. ‘Much better-looking than Philip, I suppose, though for my money –’ He stopped, seeing that she was puzzled, and said: ‘Are you acquainted with Philip Broome, ma’am?’
‘No, who is he?’
‘Torquil’s cousin. Friend of mine!’ he answered. ‘Beg pardon, but I don’t perfectly understand! You can’t be a Broome, surely? Well, what I mean is, I never heard Philip speak of you!’
‘Oh, no, I’m not a Broome! Lady Broome was my father’s half-sister,’ she explained. ‘But owing to a quarrel in the family I didn’t meet her until last week, when she invited me to visit Staplewood.’
‘Invited you to – Did she, by Jove!’ he said, surprised. ‘I wonder why –’ He broke off, reddening, and giving an embarrassed cough. ‘Forgotten what I was going to say!’
‘You were going to say that you wonder why she did invite me,’ she supplied. ‘Torquil said the same, yesterday, and I wonder what you both mean! She invited me out of compass
ion, knowing me to be a destitute orphan – and I can never be sufficiently grateful to her!’
He stammered: ‘No, indeed! Just so! Shouldn’t think you could! Well, what I mean is – Did you say destitute, ma’am?’
‘Forced to earn my bread!’ she declared dramatically. She saw that he was quite horrified, and gave a gurgle of laughter.
‘You’re shamming it!’ he accused her.
‘I’m not, but you’ve no need to look aghast, I promise you! To be sure, I didn’t precisely enjoy being a governess, but there are many worse fates. Or so I’ve been told!’
‘Yes, – well, stands to reason! Though when I think of the pranks m’sisters used to play, and how m’mother always blamed the wretched female who had ’em in charge – well, are there worse fates?’
‘Between ourselves, sir, no!’
‘Thought as much.’ He was struck by a sudden idea, and added admiringly: ‘Y’know, you’re a very unusual girl, Miss Malvern!’
Five
They parted from the Templecombes where the lane leading to Staplewood branched off the pike-road. As they rode away, Torquil said, with a sidelong look: ‘You needn’t say anything to my mother, you know. Not that it signifies! Whalley will tell her fast enough!’
‘If you mean that he will tell her we met Mr and Miss Templecombe, I am heartily glad of it!’ said Kate directly. ‘I don’t at all wish to deceive my aunt. Why don’t you wish her to know?’
‘She don’t like Dolly,’ he answered shortly. ‘Doesn’t mean me to marry her. That’s why she won’t let me go to London.’
‘Well, you are rather young to be thinking of marriage, aren’t you?’ she suggested reasonably. ‘I daresay you won’t find her opposed to the match in another few years’ time. Tell me, who are the Templecombes, and what are they?’
‘Perfectly respectable!’ he said, firing up.
‘That was obvious. I meant, what does the family consist of !’
He was instantly mollified. ‘Oh, I see! They are landowners, like ourselves. Lady Templecombe is a widow, and Gurney is her only son. She’s bird-witted! a silly widgeon, who lets herself be nose-led by Gurney! And he is nose-led by my dear, dear cousin Philip!’
She was startled by the suppressed venom in his voice, but said matter-of-factly: ‘Yes, he spoke of your cousin Philip. He seemed surprised that I had never heard of him. Tell me about him!’
‘Philip, dear Kate, is my father’s nephew, and, after me, the heir to Papa’s title and estates. He is also my chief enemy. Oh, yes, I assure you! All the narrow escapes from death I’ve had have occurred when he has been staying at Staplewood!’
She could only gasp. He threw her a bright, flickering smile, and said chattily: ‘Oh, yes! A cope-stone once fell from the pediment, missing me by inches. Wasn’t it odd? The branch of a tree, which I was climbing, broke under me. I was thrown at a fence which had been wired. I was –’
Recovering her breath, she interrupted: ‘These surely must have been accidents!’
‘Yes, even Mama said so,’ he agreed affably. ‘And she don’t love Philip! Papa does, though: positively dotes on him! My Uncle Julian was employed in the Diplomatic Service, wherefore Philip spent most of his holidays at Staplewood, ingratiating himself with my papa! He’s ten years older than I am, you know. Yes, does it not seem odd? It is due to the circumstance of Papa’s first wife having failed to rear beyond infancy any of her numerous offspring. I don’t know whether to be glad, or sorry.’
Summoning to her assistance all her faculties, she said: ‘I can’t tell that, but I do implore you, Torquil, not to refine too much on what may well have been accidents! If your mama did not believe –’
‘Oh, but she did!’ he told her, bright-eyed and smiling. ‘That’s why she places a guard about me! Philip has been her enemy from the outset!’
She was appalled into silence. It endured until the lodge-gates had been reached, when she said suddenly: ‘I don’t believe it! No, I don’t believe it!’
He laughed. ‘Don’t you? Wait, cousin, wait! You will see!’
Feeling very much as if she had strayed between the marbled covers of some lurid novel, she said no more, but rode in silence beside him up the long avenue to the terrace-steps. Here she dismounted, gave her bridle into Whalley’s hand, and went quickly into the house. There was no one in the hall, but as she went up the stairs Pennymore came through the door which led to the kitchen-quarters, and she was obliged to scold herself for thinking that she detected a look of relief in his face. ‘So you are back, miss!’ he said, smiling up at her. ‘Did you have an agreeable ride?’
Of impulse, and to try him, she answered: ‘Why, no, not very agreeable!’
Was there a shade of anxiety in his eyes? It was impossible to decide. He said, in his gentle way: ‘Oh, dear, dear! How was that, miss?’
‘My cousin was out of humour, and I was mounted on a slug!’
He coughed. ‘Well, miss, the truth is that her ladyship wasn’t sure if you were clever in the saddle, so she mounted you on Jupiter – to give you a safe, comfortable ride!’
‘What you mean is an arm-chair ride!’ she said.
‘Well, yes, miss!’ he admitted, twinkling.
She laughed, and went on up to her bedchamber. It was only when she was taking off her riding-habit that she realized that he had not answered the first part of her complaint. Knowing that she should not have made it, she came to the conclusion that by ignoring it he had reproved her, and felt ashamed of herself.
She had just taken a cambric dress out of the wardrobe, and cast it on to the bed, while she searched for a spencer to wear with it, when a knock on the door heralded the entrance of Lady Broome, who was followed by Sidlaw, carrying various dresses in her arms.
‘So I gave you an arm-chair ride, did I?’ said her ladyship, laughing at her. ‘Pray, how was I to know that you could keep a horse in hand? So many people who are buckish about horses belong to the awkward squad ! Never mind! Next time you go out you shall ride my own mare: a little spirting thoroughbred! A perfect fencer, but, alas, I don’t hunt nowadays! Now, tell me, my love: do you like these few dresses which Sidlaw has made up for you? Your nurse furnished me with your measurements, but Sidlaw would wish you to try them on while they are still only tacked together. I purchased the materials in London, pretending that I was doing so for the daughter I never had, and I do hope I chose what you will like!’
‘B-but, ma’am!’ stammered Kate, quite overset. ‘You must not! You – you are crushing me with generosity!’
‘Oh, pooh! nothing of the sort! You mean you don’t like them!’
‘Oh, no, no, no!’ cried Kate, distressed. ‘Only that I can’t be so much beholden to you! I’ve done nothing to deserve such kindness, ma’am! Oh, what a truly beautiful evening-dress! Take it away, Sidlaw, before I lose my resolution!’
‘It is to be worn, miss, with this three-quarter pelisse of pale sapphire satin, trimmed with broad lace,’ explained Sidlaw. ‘And I venture to say, miss, that it will become you to admiration! Though I say it as should not.’
‘Try it on, my dear!’ coaxed Lady Broome. ‘Sir Timothy, I must tell you, likes the ladies of his household to be prettily dressed! If you don’t choose to oblige me, oblige him!’
‘Aunt Minerva! How can you suppose that I don’t choose to oblige you?’ protested Kate. ‘Only –’
She was silenced by a finger laid across her lips. ‘Only nothing!’ said Lady Broome. She patted Kate’s cheek. ‘Foolish child! What in the world are these crotchets? Because I have had a few dresses made for you? Don’t be so gooseish!’
Feeling quite helpless, Kate submitted, allowing Sidlaw to slip the evening robe over her head. While Sidlaw discussed with Lady Broome the alterations which should be made, she stood passive, studying herself in the long glass, thinking how well
she looked, how often she had longed for such a gown, how impossible it was to refuse to accept it. She could only be grateful.
During the following week she had plenty of cause to feel grateful, and strangely oppressed, for Lady Broome showered benefits upon her. Her gifts ranged from trinkets unearthed from her jewel-box to ribbons, or scraps of lace. None of the things she gave Kate were very valuable, but they made Kate uncomfortable. It was never possible to refuse them. ‘My dear, I have been going through my lace-drawer, and came upon this set of collar and cuffs. Do you care to have them? They are of no use to me, but they would look very well on your fawn-figured dress, don’t you think?’ would say her ladyship, and how could you reply that you didn’t think so? How could you say, when a necklace of seed-pearls was clasped round your neck, and your aunt told you that she was too old to wear it herself, that you preferred not to accept it? It wasn’t possible even to refuse a new riding-habit, made by a tailor in Market Harborough, for Lady Broome pointed out, very gently, that her old one was woefully shabby. ‘We shall have everyone thinking me a shocking pinch-penny not to provide my only niece with a new one!’ she said.
‘If that is so, I need not ride, ma’am!’
‘That’s being foolish beyond permission. What would Torquil say, I wonder? When he looks forward so much to the daily rides in your company! I must tell you, my love, that you have done Torquil a great deal of good, so, if you wish to repay me, continue to ride with him!’
‘I do wish to repay you, ma’am, and surely there must be more I can do for you than ride with Torquil?’ said Kate imploringly.
‘Why, certainly! You can be my aide-de-camp, if you will, and attend to all the details which I neglect! I shall get you to write my letters for me, to arrange the flowers, and to keep the servants up to their work. You will soon be wishing that you hadn’t offered yourself as quite so willing a sacrifice!’