Of Dubious Intent

by J. A. Sutherland

“I find myself too out of sorts for lessons today — perhaps tomorrow?”

  Hinds sniffed again, started to say something, then spun and left the room. Cat knew it was frustrating for the woman. She was used to teaching younger children in a home with the parents in residence. Here, not only was Cat older, but she was, to all intents and purposes, the lady of the house, despite being too young for that. Neither would any of the other servants here support Hinds in insisting Cat study, as the tutor’s attitude had alienated them all.

  I’ve allies in that, at least.

  “She’s gone,” Emma said.

  Cat heard the sound of the solarium door shutting.

  Emma sat next to her on the settee, hands folded in her lap. The girl was still for a time, looking through the glass as Cat was, then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Is there something you’d like to say?” Cat asked.

  “Oh, no, miss.”

  They’d agreed that Emma should address her so whenever they were out of Cat’s rooms, so that she would never worry about slipping in front of another. She was also to practice the accents for proper speech Hinds taught her, so that her role of lady’s maid would be more believable.

  More minutes passed and Emma sighed again.

  Cat found herself torn between amusement and irritation at the girl for being able to amuse her when she was trying to be morose.

  “Are you certain there’s nothing you’d like to say?”

  Emma shrugged.

  “Well, miss, only that it’s the same clouds out there as yesterday … well, not the same, I’m sure, but much the same, if you take my meaning?”

  “I do.”

  “And, well …” She turned to look at Cat, jerking her head toward the window. “Don’t you find it a bit tedious, miss?”

  “You’re free to be elsewhere, Emma. No need for you to spend all day sitting with me.” She regretted it almost as quickly as the words left her mouth, for she didn’t want to be alone. Or she did. Or didn’t, but resented not being so.

  “Oh, no, miss, I couldn’t. What if you should need something?”

  “I’d call for you, I suspect, or get it for myself — but I don’t suppose there’s anything I’ll need.”

  “Nothing?” Emma slid a hand into her skirt pocket. “Not even a book?”

  “A book?”

  The one lesson Hinds offered that Cat enjoyed, was on reading. She’d learned the basics from Mother Agnes, though had little cause to practice it until she’d been taken up by Roffe.

  Emma slid a volume out of her pocket. “While you was … were away, that woman went through the library pulling out books to have you read.”

  Cat nodded. She recalled Hinds saying something to that effect when she’d returned.

  Emma grinned wickedly. “But what that woman dint … didn’t know, was I was watching her.”

  Cat frowned, not understanding what this was about.

  “Watching her?” she asked.

  Emma nodded. “Watching what books she left, see? An’ what she turned her nose up at, like she does.”

  Cat could well imagine Hinds turning her nose up and sniffing at any book she felt inappropriate for her charge.

  Emma held the volume out.

  Cat opened it and read the title.

  “‘The Life and Most Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, Mariner, who lived Eight and Twenty Years in an Uninhabited Island on the Coast of America near the Mouth of the great River Oroonoque. With an Account of his Deliverance thence, and his other Surprising Adventures.’”

  “I looked in it — there’s pictures of ships and islands and this man with his guns …” She hesitated, then a lower, scandalized whisper which lost her proper accent all entire, “An’ some near naked savage man.”

  Cat raised an eyebrow. She could well imagine Hinds’ disapproval of such things.

  “And you suspected I might need this book?”

  Emma lowered her head, but kept her eyes on Cat.

  “I thought you might, if you were to find the clouds too tedious-like, care to read it to me.”

  Cat’s lips twitched and she felt an odd, sudden warmth run through her. It was as though Emma’s hopeful gaze made any number of things far more bearable. She opened the book and began reading.

  After a time, Emma slid her slippers off and raised her feet to the settee, curling up and wrapping her arms around her knees. It wasn’t a proper way to sit at all, in fact Hinds would be scandalized to see the maid sitting at all in the presence of the ostensible lady of the house, but Hinds wasn’t there and Cat considered Emma a friend more than anything. More than a friend. And the look in the girl’s eyes as she listened to the story quite drove away Cat’s melancholy over Roffe. Of no less effect was the sight of Emma’s pink toes peeking out from the edge of her skirt so near to Cat. She couldn’t explain it, but nearness made her warm and somehow feel right with the world.

  Cat read on, losing track of time, until the solarium door was thrust open and Lexie, the new maid, stuck her head in.

  “A carriage come up the lane!” she burst out with. “I’m sent to tell you the master’s come!”

  She was gone in a shot, likely back to assist Singley with preparing to greet Roffe.

  Cat frowned at the news, Roffe had not visited the manor since that first time, preferring his home in the city. That he’d come now, with no notice or reason, couldn’t bode well. Her good mood suddenly evaporated at the prospect of confronting him again — she hadn’t settled in her own mind how she felt about him at all after his explosion in the Mechanicals Room.

  Emma stood quickly, sliding her feet into her slippers. She gave Cat a quick glance and frowned.

  “I’ll pull a nicer dress for you, shall I?”

  Cat looked down at herself. The dress she was wearing seemed quite good enough to her, it had even met with Hinds’ approval — at least the tutor hadn’t seen fit to sniff disapproval and comment on it.

  “No,” she said, “if Mister Roffe will arrive unannounced, then he’ll take me as I am. I’ll not scurry off to better myself for him.”

  “Will you go out to meet him, then?” Emma asked, looking at the doorway.

  Cat shook her head. The servants, few though they were in this household, would be hastily assembling at the front door to welcome Roffe home.

  “No,” she said, “I’ll greet him here. So far as any know, he’s my uncle, after all.”

  “Aye, miss, but I should go.”

  Cat nodded and Emma hurried out. She returned to staring out at the leaden skies and trickles of water on the glass, waiting for Roffe to come.

  Which he did, shortly. The solarium door clicked open behind her.

  “Catherine.”

  “Uncle,” she responded without turning, voice as leaden as the sky outside.

  Roffe made his way to the windows without looking directly at her. He joined her in staring out at the gardens for a time, then sighed.

  “You know,” he said finally, “I had hoped to introduce you to my work more gradually. There’ll be time for you to learn the mechanicals, if you wish, but it’s best you learn other things first.”

  “I’m sorry to have spoiled your plan, Uncle, though I’m sure I’ve been suitably chastised for it.”

  Roffe grunted.

  “Don’t touch what’s mine, should be the lesson you take from it, and that I’m not to be trifled with. Your little bout of sullenness is disturbing not only my plan, but your education as well.” He glanced back at her, eyes narrowed, then returned to looking through the windows. “I’d have sent Clanton to retrieve you to the city for more education there, but I hear you’ve accomplished nothing with your studies here these last few days. They’re both important, Catherine. Clanton can’t teach you to move in society, nor keep you from giving away your origins with some lack of simple knowledge. Your tutor can.”

  “Is that so important?”

  Roffe turned and glared at her
.

  “It is if you want this,” he said, gesturing at the room. “If you don’t want to return to the streets and whatever life you can make for yourself there.”

  “It’s too much, too fast,” Cat said. “I only wished a brief rest.”

  “Well, you’ve had it,” Roffe said. “Get back to work — there’s much for you to learn.”

  Cat bristled at that but said nothing.

  Roffe’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “I’d hoped the carrot would be enough for you, niece. Perhaps it’s time you learned I’ve more than one stick to bend you to my will, as well.”

  Cat chilled at the look. She’d never fully trusted Roffe, but her time since waking here in the manor house had softened her view of him a bit. This look, though, brought back the Roffe she’d first encountered. The one on the streets who’d knocked her to the ground so casually. Still, if he thought the threat of a beating would cow her, he was mistaken.

  “I’ve felt your stick, Uncle. You were quite thorough with it in your Mechanicals Room.”

  Roffe snorted. “You angered me, girl, that’s not a punishment. Come here.”

  Cat shook her head, if he thought she’d come to him for his beating, he was mistaken in that too.

  Roffe moved, faster than she expected and faster even than Clanton. He was beside her in a moment. His hand gripped her arm like a vise and dragged her to her feet, then to the solarium’s windowed wall. He shoved her against it, the waist high, wrought-iron rail pressing hard against her stomach.

  “Look out there,” Roffe commanded.

  Cat could hardly do anything else, as she was pressed so closely to the glass. The manor’s terrace was immediately before her, a flat, well-manicured half circle of grass. A low wall retained the earth of the terrace from falling into the lower garden. The terrace itself was where she imagined lawn games would occur, if such things ever happened at this house.

  “Are you familiar with the tradition of a whipping boy, Catherine?” Roffe asked, pressed close behind her and keeping her at the window.

  “No, I’m not, and you’re making me —”

  “Watch,” Roffe said again. “The term comes from the children of the king — when the king was thought to rule by divine right, that is. Who would dare correct the future king? Who was worthy? What does one do when a prince misbehaves? From a purely practical point of view, correction might be remembered when the boy becomes a man and wears the crown, after all, and what revenge might he take? Do you see?”

  Cat didn’t, but said nothing. Clanton was on the terrace now. He strode to its center and turned to look at Cat and Roffe. His shoulders rose and fell as though he’d taken a deep breath or sighed, then he strode to the edge of the terrace where a tree from the garden overhung it. He drew his belt knife and clipped a branch, stripping away leaves and twigs.

  “Do you mean to beat me again?” Cat asked. “Or have him do it?”

  Roffe went on as though she hadn’t spoken.

  “The other use of the whipping boy, Catherine, is that he was the prince’s companion and playmate. In theory, if the prince was a decent lad, he’d regret seeing his playmate punished in his stead and correct his behavior.”

  Clanton motioned toward the house — not to Cat and Roffe, but to their right where the great hall opened to the terrace. Emma stepped forward, head cocked as she listened to Clanton still speaking. Cat couldn’t hear the words, but a chill ran through her.

  “No —”

  “Be still and watch!” Roffe grasped her arms, holding her in place, pressing her more roughly to the iron railing.

  Clanton met Emma at the terrace’s center and with no warning cuffed the girl to the ground.

  “Stop it!”

  Cat struggled, but Roffe’s grip was solid. She tried to strike at him with an elbow or kick him, but she couldn’t connect.

  Emma looked up at Clanton, hand to her cheek, surprise and hurt writ on her face. Clanton looked toward the solarium, then raised the switch he’d cut and brought it down.

  “Stop it!”

  Cat threw her head back, hoping to catch Roffe in the face, but he merely laughed.

  “I took you off the street,” he hissed at her. “Brought you into this home. Offered you more —”

  “Emma! Damn you, Roffe, she’s done nothing!”

  “— luxury than you could dream of. The opportunity to learn —”

  The switch in Clanton’s hand rose and fell over and over again. Emma hunched on the ground, not trying to escape — likely thinking this was her lot in life and that it was better than being on the streets. Much as Roffe was saying himself.

  “Which will it be, Catherine, from this point on? The carrot or the stick? If you won’t bend for your own sake, will you do it for hers?”

  “Damn you!”

  Roffe shook her roughly. “Do I have Clanton strip her and beat her bloody? Do you doubt I will?”

  “No!”

  Clanton’s arm fell again.

  “What do you want?” Cat asked. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it!”

  “Learn what I set you, Catherine. Whether by Clanton or your tutor or any else I say. Learn your lessons, girl, and become of use to me.”

  “All right!” Cat wanted to look away from the scene on the terrace, but couldn’t — she simply wanted it to stop. “All right, I will! Make him stop!”

  “Very well.” Roffe rapped his knuckles on the glass loud enough for Clanton to hear. The valet glanced over, nodded, then tossed the switch to the ground. “Do not forget the consequences of defying me, Catherine. They will only grow more severe.”

  With that, Roffe released her and left. Clanton walked away from Emma, leaving her in a sobbing heap. Cat spun around and rushed from the solarium. She might have caught sight of Roffe in the great hall, but was oblivious to it. Even Clanton, who passed her on his way through, though she wished nothing more than to strike him, was nothing to her in that moment.

  She dashed out onto the terrace, and dropped to her knees beside Emma.

  Chapter 18

  She’ll be herself in no time,” Singley assured Cat with a pat on the shoulder.

  Cat nodded her thanks, but her attention was all on Emma. The girl was settled in Cat’s own bed, carried there at Cat’s insistence by Skiff, the groundskeeper.

  Roffe and Clanton left immediately, not even waiting for the servants to assemble, and leaving the household stunned at their quick arrival and departure, as well as the violence of it. All of the small staff rushed to the terrace — they’d been watching from whatever discrete position they could find, in any case.

  “Skiff, you be off with you, now.” Singley gave her own nod to the groundskeeper. “And you as well, Mistress Hinds — I think the girl needs rest.”

  Hinds sniffed, as she had more than once since Emma’d been brought inside — sniffing and objecting to everything from the girl being carried to her placement in Cat’s room.

  “It is not your place as the cook to dismiss —”

  Cat rounded on her, furious and at an end of her patience. She was certain it was Hinds who’d reported to Roffe that Cat was missing her studies, which made the tutor complicit in what had been done to Emma, so far as Cat was concerned.

  “But it is mine in my own chambers, Hinds,” Cat said, deliberately leaving off the honorific. “You may set me lessons, but I am the lady of this house in Mister Roffe’s absence.”

  “Of course, Miss Catherine, but —”

  “Out!” Cat yelled.

  Hinds jumped, startled, and made her way to the door.

  “I do trust you’ll be resuming those studies,” Hinds said from the doorway, and Cat became certain that the woman knew this was a result of her handiwork — knew and took pleasure in it.

  She clenched her jaw and fists, wanting to fling herself at the woman.

  “I will see you at the appointed times, Hinds.”

  “Of course, Miss Catherine.”

  “And Hi
nds,” Cat couldn’t resist calling out before the woman had completely left. “Do remember your place. As we’ve all seen today, the discipline in this household is strict indeed.”

  Skiff left after Hinds and shut the door after them.

  Cat collapsed to the bedside, clutching Emma’s hand.

  “Let her sleep,” Singley said again. “She’s not badly hurt.”

  “How can you say that?” Cat felt the tears come and welcomed their release.

  Emma was still battered and muddied from the beating and the bedding was the worse for it, but Cat didn’t care. The girl lay on her side, the back and skirt of her clothes bloody in spots. But Singley was correct that she was resting — asleep at least.

  Singley snorted. “Not the first nor the worst beating that girl’s taken.”

  “He’s done his before?”

  “Not here,” Singley said. “But she’s told me —” She pursed her lips. “Not my place to tell, and there’s other worries now. Let her rest for now, then a bath with salts will set her right. Her stays will have protected her back — they’re good for that. Mostly bruises, I imagine, and she’ll ache all over, but she’s not hurt.”

  “Are you certain?”

  Singley nodded, then gave Cat a hard look. “It’s good of you to think of her, but better she were in her own room.”

  Cat shook her head, returning her gaze to Emma’s face, which was peaceful in sleep despite the streaks of mud and wet hair escaping her cap.

  “No, I want to look after her. And the bath’s just there — you said a bath when she wakes.”

  “Aye, I’ll send up salts.” Singley sighed. “And tea with a bit to eat.”

  Cat nodded. “Thank you.”

  Singley pursed her lips, started to speak, stopped, then, “This was a message to you, then?”

  “What?”

  “From Mister Roffe? That Hinds woman’s unhappy you’ve not studied as he wants —” She nodded at Emma. “This was his message?”

  “I —” Cat faltered for what to say. There was no denying the truth, but she didn’t want Singley and the others to know that this was her fault. Didn’t want Emma to know, if she didn’t already, for that would surely make the girl hate her.