by Rue Allyn
“Yes, sir, I was. A bad case of hunger and a sense of injustice can do that.”
“I see. I had a starving Irish rebel on my hands.”
Katie felt herself giving way to a smile, though she hadn’t quite forgiven him yet.
Alfie staggered to the table with a stack of plates, and the twins made a desultory attempt to set the table. Roy grabbed a knife and fork and started drumming with them, which made Michael frown with disapproval.
“Roy, we’ve no need for the percussion solo,” Katie said. “Let’s get some food into us, before we have another rebellion on our hands.” She brought the fragrant, steaming dish to the table, and went back for the bread.
Michael took his place at the head of the table, rolling his chair into position and putting on the hand brakes. Bob found Michael a knife and fork, and smiled shyly at him. Bob had taken a real shine to “Mister Lord.”
The soda bread had risen to perfection, and it smelled wonderful. Katie broke it into pieces and handed it around. “Eat up!” she encouraged, since the children were a little in awe of Michael.
Michael ate like a soldier who hadn’t seen food for a week. “It’s good, Katie, really good,” he muttered between mouthfuls.
“Thank you,” she said. She knew she was a good cook, but it was gratifying to hear him say it. Reassuring, too, after the whole fiasco this afternoon. She’d been in tears at Home Farm, thinking she was about to be sacked. Back in Ireland, her mam always said, “You’re a good girl, Katie, but your besetting sin is losing your temper.” Katie had cursed herself for her stupidity in talking back to his lordship, even though his lordship had definitely deserved it. Maggie, the farmer’s wife, had made her a cup of tea and assured Katie it would all blow over.
“Do you still want me to pack my bags, sir?” Katie asked meekly. “Since I upset you so much when I spoke out of turn?”
The children set up a chorus of “No! No! You can’t go!”
“No need to do anything rash, Katie,” said Michael, and he glanced in the direction of the tureen in the center of the table to see if there were any second helpings.
Katie could see what he wanted and ladled more out for him. She saw him hesitate for a moment with his fork raised, and she realized he was breathing in the intoxicating aroma of the food she had just spooned onto his plate.
“You will take over the cooking, won’t you Katie?” he said.
Katie paused, deliberately, just before she replied. No harm in making him sweat, just a little. The children looked up at her with anxious faces, all waiting to hear her reply, eager for a reassurance that she wouldn’t be hanging up her apron and catching the four-thirty to London.
“If that’s what you want, sir,” she said, at last.
A loud cheer went up around the table, the children expressing their approval by stamping their feet and banging their cutlery on the table, and Katie felt a little surge of triumph.
The food must have put Michael in a good mood, because after dinner he announced that he needed the children to “help” him operate the gramophone player.
“You got a gramophone?” Roy asked, dark eyes glinting with interest. “A good one? And records to play on it?”
“The best money can buy,” Michael said, matter-of-factly.
A whoop of delight went up, and the children swarmed around him to wheel him off to the library.
Katie did the dishes in the scullery, listening to soft strains of music carrying from the other room. She thought she heard Artie Shaw’s wicked clarinet, followed by Harry James — sinful on the saxophone — playing the most suggestive version of “You Made Me Love You” that she had ever heard. Just the sound of that music made her cheeks flame. So seductive.
She decided to leave the dishes to drain, so she could go listen to the music properly. She stood in the doorway of the library and watched them at work. Roy selected the records, showing them first to Michael for approval, then little Alfie put them on the turntable and operated the needle so they didn’t get scratched. The twins took up their positions in the middle of the red turkey carpet, and danced like there was no tomorrow.
The children liked the lively ones best, but Katie loved it when they played the sultry dance music. It made her think of big smoky ballrooms and the thrill of being in the arms of a man that you liked.
“Come and sit down,” Michael suggested gently, indicating the place on the old leather chesterfield near him.
She felt a bit shy, but she crossed the room and perched herself on the couch. He handed her a heavy gramophone record to inspect. She slid it out of its brown paper sleeve, and turned it around so she could read the title. Glenn Miller – Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear to Tread. The song she had wanted to play on her very first day — the day his lordship found her exploring the place on her own. He had noticed. He had remembered.
“Ladies choice,” Michael announced. Katie looked up and caught the amusement in those cool blue eyes of his. Would she ever be done blushing if he kept looking at her like that?
He must have sensed her embarrassment, because his lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile.
“What’s it to be, then Katie?”
Chapter Six
The next morning, Katie came running when she heard his lordship calling out from his bedroom on the ground floor.
“What is it, sir? Are you hurt?”
He was lying back against his pillows, looking languidly handsome as ever, but his face wore a scowl. “No, but I bloody well will be if I can’t get you to answer the bell. I’ve been ringing for the last forty minutes.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been seeing the boys off to school. There was an urgent crisis involving Roy’s spelling book.”
“Are you free now?” he demanded. He flicked disconsolately at his bed sheets, and began to push them aside. He wore only a white cotton undershirt and a pair of stripy pajama trousers.
“Yes, I am.” Katie knew she should look away as his lordship maneuvered himself to the edge of the bed, hauling first one leg and then the other with his hands until he was sitting on the edge of the mattress. He had long, slim legs, obviously wasted from six months lack of use. The pajama trousers were loose and baggy on him.
He stopped. He glanced up at her with reluctance and uncertainty in his blue eyes. A hint of color crept across the lean angles of his face.
“The thing is, Katie, until yesterday I always had someone to help me in the mornings with getting dressed and finding things, you know … ”
“Mrs. Jessop, you mean.”
“Yes. We had a routine.”
Katie felt a pang of guilt. Michael needed help, he was not quite as independent as he liked to pretend, and faithful old Jessop used to play along with it all. Katie had deprived Michael of help that he desperately needed.
“Where shall I start?” Katie said, mentally rolling up her sleeves. “You want me to wheel you into the bathroom? Shall I help you to wash?”
“God, Katie, I’d rather die than ask you to do this.”
“I think I can understand that,” she said. “But dying isn’t on the agenda today, sir, so I guess we’ll both have to grit our teeth.”
He smiled, but he was still reluctant.
Katie sat down beside him. “Are you taking this off, or what?” she said, tugging at the front of the white undershirt.
Michael looked sheepish. He ran a hand through the fronds of blond hair that fell down over his forehead. He shoved them out of the way, like a shy teenager waiting to undress for the school nurse.
“S’pose so,” he muttered, hauling off the garment so that he was naked to the waist.
Katie’s gaze fluttered shyly over the fine contours of his torso. It was all she could do to stifle the soft murmur that almost escaped her lips. He was beautiful, no question about it, though she felt she had no right to admire him. She felt her face flush with shame.
“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” Michael said, meeting her gaze. His can
did blue eyes were even more disarming than his beautiful, beautiful chest.
“No,” whispered Katie.
His fingers lingered nervously on the waistband that rode low on his narrow hips. She wasn’t sure if he truly meant to remove his pants, but she decided she wasn’t staying to find out.
“Hot water and a towel!” she blurted and ran from the room like the place was on fire.
• • •
Katie thought the flaming embarrassment that reddened her face would never go away. All morning she thought about his lordship. Surely, it wasn’t possible that she could have those kinds of feelings for a man again. And what about the look she thought she saw in his eyes last night? Did she misread that? Surely, his condition meant he couldn’t …
Curse him and his bedroom eyes! She tried to concentrate on making steak and kidney pudding for lunch, and she had flour all over her hands when Alfie came rushing in through the back door.
“Come and see, Miss Rafferty,” Alfie hopped up and down in excitement.
Katie hoped he wasn’t about to wet himself. “See what?”
“See what we found in the stables!” Alfie tried to pull on Katie’s arm. “You have to see!”
He was a sweet boy and he rarely asked her for anything, so Katie felt obliged to leave what she was doing. She smiled and untied her apron, leaving it hanging over the back of a kitchen chair.
Alfie beamed a big, gappy grin. “It’ll be worth the effort, Miss, I promise.” He took hold of her hand and hauled her out through the kitchen door. They walked briskly down the path and turned the corner to look across the drive.
And there it was. A bright red sports car — an MG Roadster, or something like it; Katie wasn’t very good at recognizing cars. It was long and low with an open top. At present, it had a towrope attached to the front bumper, and it was being hauled along by Roy and the twins, with much hysterical laughter and a certain amount of swearing.
Sitting in it, like a rajah, was his lordship, wearing his flying goggles and a brown leather helmet. “Tally ho!” he cried. “Chocks away!”
It was quite a sight, and definitely worth taking her apron off for.
Alfie ran to lend his weight to the task, though he wasn’t much help by the looks of things. They were doing at least thirty inches an hour.
“What in the blue blazes is this?” said Katie, trying to suppress her laughter. Michael tooted the horn enthusiastically when he saw her and ordered the children to stop by the steps.
“Isn’t this great?” he asked. “Haven’t taken the old girl out for a spin in ages. I used to drive her everywhere before the war. We’re going to the front hedge and back. Haven’t seen the front hedge for a while, either. Want to come?”
“No!” she said. “I’ll weigh you down.”
Michael took off the goggles and removed the helmet. He tossed them over his shoulder so he could make a more direct appeal.
“You know you want to!” he said, with a ravishing smile.
Seeing him sitting there in his car, she caught a glimpse of the devil-may-care young man that he had once been. Strands of straight fair hair fell forward and shone gold in the sunlight. He flashed her a confident grin and leaned across to open the passenger door for her.
This was a man who was rarely refused, she thought. A man who liked fast cars and fast women. A man she rather liked the look of. Instantly she tried to dispel that thought.
He patted the seat beside him, “Come for a spin!”
Katie gazed longingly at the car. She’d never in her life been in a car like that, with a man like that.
She weakened and climbed in. The car had luxurious red leather seats — real leather with a soft, buttery feel. She closed the passenger door carefully, and it clicked shut.
“Where are you taking me, then?”
“Told you, Front Hedge. After that, I don’t know. Maybe we could go for a drink at the Dog and Whistle.”
Roy gave a kind of angry roar from his position hauling the rope at the front. “I ain’t pulling you all the way to the ruddy Dog and Whistle, Mister. This thing is twice as heavy since she got in.”
“Thank you very much,” Katie retorted. “Actually, I’m sure I’ve lost a bit of weight since I came to this wonderful country of yours.”
“Come on, Roy, put your back into it! We’ve slowed to a snail’s pace!”
The boys concerted their efforts. They gave a last desperate tug on the rope and hauled with all their might, but the car wouldn’t budge. In the end, someone must have lost their grip on the rope and they all tumbled into a heap on the driveway. There were shrieks of laughter and howls of outrage as the four got up, pushing and shoving one another.
Katie smiled sweetly at Michael. “Not quite enough horsepower, my lord.” She began to unfasten the passenger door. “I’d better get back to the kitchen, sir, and finish the cooking. The kids will have a hearty appetite after all this, and Mrs. Mallory’s coming to check up on us all.”
“Crikey. Marjory Mallory for lunch today?”
“She’s not on the menu, sir. That’s steak and kidney pie. But she’s arriving at twelve o’clock sharp.”
Michael smiled. “I expect she is. She’s a stickler for punctuality.”
Katie stepped lightly out of the car, and although she didn’t know what possessed her, she turned and blew Michael a kiss. He returned it with a flourish and another glorious, sunny smile.
“Come on, team. Tally ho,” he said, to encourage the children to pick up the rope and try again. “Chocks away!”
• • •
Michael toyed with his portion of boiled cabbage until he noticed Mrs. Mallory was giving him one of her disapproving stares.
“Waste not, want not, Michael,” she mouthed at him, almost silently.
He sighed and forked it in. The pie had been divine, of course, one of Katie’s culinary triumphs, but he didn’t care for boiled cabbage. He could never quite forgive a cabbage for being so … cabbagey.
Katie had served the lunch in the main dining room, since they had company. Michael had worried that the wheelchair wouldn’t fit under the giant polished oval table, but it did. Mrs. Mallory appeared very jolly, and she ate a formidable quantity of steak and kidney pie. She was wearing a dress today — a sort of giant, blue tent — instead of her uniform. Michael still couldn’t work out why she was here. Mrs. Mallory was the kind of woman who always visited people with a specific purpose in mind, and usually it involved bullying them into doing something virtuous for the community or for the war. But today, she hadn’t yet revealed her true purpose.
“You’ve done very well, my dear,” Mrs. Mallory said to Katie. “No wonder the children are so settled.”
Michael glanced around at the children. Perhaps she was just checking up on the little devils. They looked deceptively angelic today with their hair combed flat with water and their faces scrubbed clean. They were so quiet and subdued, as if they imagined Mrs. Mallory held the power of life and death in her hands on the sheer force of having been the billeting officer.
“I think the whole village is a little curious about Katie,” Mrs. Mallory said. “You know how rumors fly.”
“Yes I do,” Michael agreed. “The rumors flew sky high after Katie sacked Mrs. Jessop.”
Alfie giggled. “There was a lady in the village shop saying that Katie and Mrs. Jessop had a wrestling match on the sitting room carpet.”
“People do tend to exaggerate, dear. I hope you set them straight.” Mrs. Mallory indicated that she’d like a third helping of the pie, and Katie handed her the spoon.
Alfie smiled to himself. “I told them I didn’t actually see it, but I heard that Mrs. Jessop went bright purple.”
“Purple with rage?” said Mrs. Mallory in an amused tone. “That doesn’t sound like Lizzie. Whatever did you say to her, Katie dear?”
“It was over the ration books. It had become obvious that — ”
Michael felt he had to intervene. “Katie, you
must understand, I will probably need to reinstate Mrs. Jessop.”
Various cries of dismay went up all around the table. Katie looked at Michael, the questions clear in her eyes.
“Not to do the cooking,” he hastened to add, “but to help me, and to help with the rest of the housework. You can’t do it all.”
Katie looked relieved. “No, perhaps not. But the woman is dishonest, sir.”
“Sshhh. She’s not dishonest,” Michael tried hard to communicate with only his eyes that he wanted Katie to shut up. She looked as if she would argue with him, but then she glanced sideways at Mrs. Mallory and then said nothing.
“As I say, she’s not dishonest. She’s been on the staff here for over thirty years, and she has always made a valuable contribution.”
Katie rolled her eyes.
“Lizzie Jessop is the last of the servants who were here in your parents’ day, isn’t she, Michael?”
“Yes. Exactly,” said Michael. “Jessop is a tradition we must uphold. I’m planning to talk to her tomorrow, if I get the chance. Try to smooth things over.”
“Good idea, Michael.” Mrs. Mallory sat back in her well-padded dining chair and folded her hands over her enormous girth. Perhaps she was finally full, Michael thought, ungraciously.
“Well, as I was saying, people in the village are very curious about Katie. They’d love to meet her. And of course they’d love to see more of you, Michael, now that you are feeling better. The village dance is coming up next month.”
Michael sighed. Mrs. Mallory’s purpose was about to become clear.
“The dance has been held on May Day for at least the last two hundred years,” she said. “It is impossible that you have forgotten.”
Michael glanced at Katie and noticed that a pink flush of embarrassment was coloring her cheeks rather prettily. She moistened her lips and looked down at her table napkin, refusing to meet his eye.
“The dance seems a marvelous opportunity for Katie to meet everyone in the village, wouldn’t you say?”
“Absolutely. I hope she enjoys it very much,” Michael said, rather crossly.