“It hasn’t befallen you, ma’am!”
“No: not yet! Perhaps, if I can provide him with a wife, it never will. He may grow calmer when his passions find a natural outlet: Delabole considers it to be possible.”
“Does he consider it beyond possibility that a child of Torquil’s should inherit his malady?” Kate asked, unable to repress the bitter indignation which swelled in her breast.
“It is a risk I must take,” said Lady Broome, sublimely unaware of the effect these words had upon her niece.
Kate managed to pull her arm free; she stepped back a pace, and said, with a tiny contemptuous laugh: “There’s another risk you would have to take, ma’am! Hasn’t it occurred to you that Torquil’s child might be a daughter?”
It was evident that this thought had never disturbed Lady Broome’s incredible dreams. She stared at Kate, as though stunned, and when she spoke it was scarcely above a whisper. “God couldn’t be so cruel!” she uttered.
Kate made a hopeless gesture. “Let me take you to your room, ma’am! It is of no use to continue arguing: it is as though we weren’t speaking the same language! I am leaving you tomorrow, and—and I wish very much to do so without a quarrel with you!” She drew a resolute breath, and braced herself, and found the courage to keep her eyes steady on her aunt’s face. “There is something else I must tell you, ma’am. I would have told when—when it happened, but you were too ill to be troubled with what I know you will dislike—I fear, excessively! I can only beg you to believe that I haven’t wished to deceive you, and that I can’t and won’t leave Staplewood without telling you that Mr Philip Broome proposed to me on the very day you took ill, and that I accepted his offer!”
Lady Broome received this disclosure in a silence more terrible, Kate thought, than any outburst of wrath would have been. She stood motionless, only her eyes alive in her rigid countenance. Between narrowed lids, they stared at Kate with such implacable fury that it was only by a supreme effort of will-power that she stood her ground, and continued to look her aunt boldly in the face. “So Sidlaw was right!” Lady Broome said, quite softly. “You little slut!” She watched the colour rush up into Kate’s cheeks. “You can blush, can you? That certainly surprises me! I wouldn’t believe Sidlaw—I couldn’t believe that a girl who owed the very clothes on her back to me could be so ungrateful—so treacherous—as to encourage the advances of a man whom she knew to be my greatest enemy! He has proposed to you, has he? Are you so sure that he proposed marriage?” I fancy he is not so blind to his interest as you imagine! Philip marry a penniless young woman whom neither her family nor his acknowledge? I won’t say that I wish you may not have a rude wakening from this mawkish dream of yours, for I hope with all my heart that when he grows tired of you, and casts you off, you will remember to your dying day what I offered you, and you were fool enough to refuse!” She paused, but Kate did not speak. Scanning the girl’s white face, an unpleasant smile curled her lips, and she said: “That gives you to think, does it not? I advise you to think more carefully still! Perhaps it didn’t occur to you that he was trying to give you a slip on the shoulder?”
Kate’s lips quivered into an answering smile; she replied: “It did occur to me, ma’am, but I was wrong. All you have said about my circumstances occurred to me too. I daresay you won’t believe me, but I tried to make him see how unequal such a match would be—how much his family must deplore it! But he said that that was a matter of indifference to him. You see—we love each other!”
“Love?” ejaculated Lady Broome scornfully. “Don’t, I beg of you, nauseate me by talking sickly balderdash! Love has nothing to do with marriage, and I promise you it doesn’t endure! No, and it won’t make up to you for losing Staplewood, and the position that could be yours as Lady Broome! Or are you indulging the fancy that Torquil will die young, and that Philip will step into his shoes? Torquil will hold for a long time: I’ll take care of that! He shall have no more opportunities to break his neck! Until I can instal him in an establishment of his own, I mean to see to it that he is never left for one moment alone, or allowed to go near the stables! My great-uncle lived to extreme old age, you know. I believe he was very troublesome at first, but when he became imbecile, which he very shortly did, he was as easy to control as a child. Even his fits of violence abated! I remember my mother telling me that he could be diverted merely by being given some new, foolish plaything! You may rest assured that Torquil shall be provided with a thousand playthings, indulged, cosseted, guarded from every infectious disease—”
“Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw!” Kate broke in, her voice anguished. “For God’s sake, ma’am, stop! You cannot know what you are saying!”
“I know very well what I am saying. I have something more to say to you, Kate! If you marry Philip, he will never again, while I live, set foot inside this house! Don’t think I can’t keep him away! I can, and will! If you are as fond of Sir Timothy as you pretend to be, you won’t separate him from his beloved nephew! That is something I have never done! Remember that!”
She cast a final, scorching glance at Kate, and swept across the hall to the gallery that led to her bedchamber with a firmness of step which belied her previous assumption of debility.
Kate, almost fainting with horror, managed to reach her own room before her knees sank under her, and she collapsed into Mrs Nidd’s arms, gasping: “I must get away! I must! She is so terrible, Sarah! I can’t tell you what she has said to me!”
“Well,” said Mrs Nidd, dealing with this crisis after her own fashion, “as I don’t want to know what she said, that’s no matter! And, as you won’t be troubled with her again after tomorrow, there’s no call for you to be thrown into affliction, Miss Kate! You give over fretting and fuming, and let me undress you, like a good girl!”
Chapter XX
A night spent in tossing from side to side, with brief intervals of sleep rendered hideous by menacing dreams, did little to restore Kate; and when she slipped out of the house to join Mr Philip Broome on the terrace next morning, she looked so wan and heavy-eyed that he said savagely, as he caught her into his arms: “I ought not to have let you face her alone! Oh, my poor darling, why did you shake your head at me? What did she say to upset you so much?”
She clung to him, trying to overcome her agitation, and said, in a strangled voice: “You were right, Philip, and I wouldn’t believe the things you said of her! I thought it was prejudice! But you were right!”
He had to bend his head to catch her words, for they were uttered into his shoulder, but he did catch them, and, although his face darkened wrathfully, his voice was quite calm when he said: “Yes: I know. You shall tell me all about it, but not here! It is rather too public a place. Shall we go down to the shrubbery, dear love?”
He did not wait for an answer, but drew her hand through his arm, and led her down the terrace steps. She went without demur, too shaken to consider, or to care, who might be watching them. His coolness, the strong clasp of his hand on hers, steadied her, and by the time they had reached the rustic bench where they had sat together so short a time before, she had managed to regain her composure, and was even able to conjure up a wavering smile as she said, rather huskily: “I beg your pardon! Sarah warned me that there is no more certain way of making a gentleman cry off than to treat him to a fit of the vapours—and particularly before breakfast! I didn’t mean to do it, and indeed it isn’t a habit of mine, Philip!”
“In that case, I won’t cry off!” he said. “Don’t sit down! The dew hasn’t dried yet!” As he spoke, he stripped off his well-fitting coat, and folded it, and placed it on the bench for her to sit upon. In reply to her expostulation that he would take cold, and her efforts to spread the coat that they might both sit on it, he thrust her down on to the bench, and seated himself beside her, putting a sustaining arm round her, and informing her that no one could possibly take cold on such a hot morning, and that he defied any amount of dew to penetrate his buckskins. After that
, he kissed her, long and lovingly, told her not to be a goose, and gently pressed her head down on his shoulder. “Tell me!” he said.
So Kate, nestling gratefully within his embrace, her cheek against his waistcoat of striped toilinette, told him, rather haltingly, but quite calmly, all that Lady Broome had said in each of the painful sessions she had endured with her. His brow blackened as he listened, but he heard her in silence, until she disclosed that her aunt meant to incacerate Torquil in a house remote from Staplewood, when his hard-held control broke, and he exclaimed: “Oh, my God, no!” She couldn’t do such a thing! It would be enough to send him completely out of his mind! What, banish him from the only home he has ever known, place Delabole, whom he detests, in charge of him, appoint strangers to take care of him?—No, no, Kate! She would never do so! Even I can’t believe her capable of such inhumanity! I agree that he mustn’t be allowed to roam at large; I know that it may become necessary to confine him, but that day hasn’t come yet! If I had my way, I’d send Delabole packing, and engage a man, not only experienced in the care of those whose minds are unbalanced, but one able to endear himself to the poor lad—divert him—God knows it’s not difficult!”
“Such a man wouldn’t lend himself to the deception my aunt demands,” Kate said sadly. “Nothing signifies to her but to keep it secret that Torquil has fits of insanity. That’s what overset me. Suddenly I saw that she was monstrous. Sarah thinks her as mad as Torquil, but it came to me, as I listened to the appalling things she said, that she has never, in all her life, considered anyone but herself, or doubted that everything she does is good, and wise—beyond criticism! Sir Timothy said to me that she has many good qualities, but is a stranger to the tender emotions. It is most terribly true, Philip! She did not utter one word of pity for Torquil: it is her tragedy, not his! He has destroyed her last ambition, and that puts him beyond pardon. She doesn’t love him, you see. I don’t think she loves anyone but herself. She will send him away—and tell Sir Timothy that a change of air has been recommended for him!”
“Oh, no, she will not!” Philip said, at his grimmest. “If she does indeed mean to do anything so cruel, she’ll find she has reckoned without me! I’ve never spoken of Torquil’s state to my uncle, but much as I love him I won’t see Torquil sacrificed to spare him pain!”
“Philip, Philip, you won’t be able to tell him! That is almost the worst of all! My aunt has told me that if you marry me you will never come to Staplewood again, while she is ruthless!” she is alive to prevent you! And she will prevent you! She—
“So am I ruthless!” he said, his eyes very bright and hard. “By God, I should be glad to cross swords with her! Don’t look so troubled, my precious! That, at least, was an empty threat! Minerva has no power to keep me away from Staplewood. My uncle may be weak, but he won’t support her on that issue! And when he dies she will discover that her despotic rule is at an end. She doesn’t know it—I daresay the thought has never so much as crossed her mind!—but although my uncle has provided for a handsome jointure, his Will strips her of power. It makes me, not her, Torquil’s guardian, and his principal trustee—and you may be sure, Kate, that I shan’t allow her to send him away from Staplewood—or to bully and browbeat him!” He got up. “I must go now, if I am to have a chaise here by noon. You won’t see Minerva; she’s not coming down to breakfast. Go up to your room as soon as you have eaten your own breakfast: I fancy Mrs Nidd can be relied upon to keep Minerva at bay!” He shrugged himself into his coat, and took her hands, and kissed them. “Keep up your heart, my darling! When we sit down to dinner, we shall be forty or fifty miles from Staplewood. Remember that, if you find yourself sinking into dejection! But you won’t: you’re too much of a right one!”
“No, no, I won’t!” she promised. Her fingers clung to his, detaining him. “But I have been thinking, Philip! If you were to drive Sarah and me to Market Harborough, we could travel on the stage, and—and not be such a shocking charge on you! It is such an unnecessary expense! I know that the rates for a post-chaise are wickedly high, and—”
She was silenced by having a kiss planted firmly on her mouth. Mr Philip Broome said, with menacing severity, that if she had any more bird-witted suggestions to make, he advised her to keep them under her tongue; and, when she showed a disposition to argue with him, added, in a very ineffable way, that it did not suit his consequence to permit his promised wife to travel on the common stage.
That made her laugh; and when he left her, striding off in the direction of the stables, she walked back to the house in much improved spirits, and was able to greet Pennymore, whom she encountered in the Great Hall, with something very like her customary cheerfulness; and even to say in an airy voice that she had been lured into the garden because it was such a beautiful day. To which he responded: “Yes, miss! Very understandable!” with such a twinkle in his eye that the unruly colour surged into her cheeks. He then said that as Mr Philip had done him the honour to admit him into his confidence he would like to take the liberty of wishing her happiness. “In which, miss,” he informed her, with a fatherly smile, “Tenby desires to be included, Sir Timothy having told him last night of your Approaching Nuptials. Not that it came as a surprise to either of us! You will find only Mr Torquil and the doctor in the breakfast-parlour, Miss Kate, and I shall bring your tea to you directly.”
Waiting only until the telltale blush had faded, Kate proceeded to the breakfast-parlour. The doctor rose at her entrance, and came forward to hand her to a seat at the table, full of forced joviality, but looking as though he too had passed a sleepless night. Torquil, who had apparently recovered from his fall, was in a boastful, defiant mood, ready to come to cuffs with anyone unwise enough to criticize his horsemanship. He instantly challenged Kate to do so, demanding belligerently if she had anything to say on the subject. When she answered calmly: “Oh, no! How should I?” he uttered a crack of laughter, and said: “Just as well!”
“Torquil, Torquil!” said the doctor reprovingly.
“Oh, stop gabbing!” snapped Torquil, casting at him a look of venomous dislike. “I’ll tell you what, coz! We’ll have a game of quoits after breakfast before it gets too hot!”
“I’m sorry, Torquil: I’m afraid I can’t,” she replied. “I am leaving Staplewood today, and I must pack my trunk.”
“Leaving?” he ejaculated. “But you can’t leave! I won’t let you! I’ll tell Mama—Kate, why?”
“But, Torquil, I didn’t come here to live, you know!” she said, smiling at him. “Indeed, I think I have remained for an unconscionable time! It’s very kind of you to wish me to stay, but I have been thinking for some weeks that it is high time I left Staplewood—only it has had me in a puzzle how to do so without putting your mama to the expense and inconvenience of providing me with an escort to London, which isn’t at all needful, but which I know she would insist on doing. But now that my nurse has come to visit me the difficulty is solved. I shall go back to London with her. I wasn’t expecting her, so I have been as much taken by surprise as you are.”
He startled her by thrusting his chair back, and almost flinging himself on his knees beside her, grasping her hands, and saying in an anguished voice: “Oh, Kate, don’t go! Don’t go! You’re the only friend I’ve ever had, and if you leave me I shall have no one!”
The doctor rose rather quickly, but, encountering a fiery look from Kate, remained by his chair. Torquil, his head bowed over Kate’s hands, had burst into sobs. She glanced pitifully down at him, but spoke to Delabole. “Please go away, sir!” she said quietly. “You are quite crushing my hands, Torquil: pray don’t hold them so tightly!”
He released them immediately, saying between his sobs: “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Kate, you know I wouldn’t hurt you! I like you! You’re so kindl’
He sank his head into her lap, hysterically weeping; and the doctor, sighing deeply, but apparently satisfied that his mood was not violent, unobtrusively withdrew from the room. Kate laid a h
and on Torquil’s gleaming gold locks, gently stroking them. Her heart was wrung, but she said soothingly: “Of course I know you wouldn’t hurt me! Don’t cry! You will make me cry too if you don’t stop, and you wouldn’t wish that, would you?”
He raised his head, staring wildly up at her. “You are going because you think I tried to shoot you! But I didn’t, Kate, I swear to you I didn’t!”
“No, I know you didn’t,” she said, patting his hand. “To be sure, I was very cross with you at the time for being so careless, but that’s all forgotten!”
“It’s Mama!” he said suddenly. “She is sending you away! Because you won’t marry me! O God, how I hate her!”
His voice shook with passion, and she sent a swift glance towards the door, guessing that the doctor’s ear was glued to it, and afraid that he might precipitate a crisis by coming back into the room. He did not, however, and she said, preserving her calm: “You mustn’t say that, Torquil. Moreover, your mama is quite as anxious for me to remain at Staplewood as you are. Get up, my dear, and sit here, beside me!
That’s better! Now own that you don’t in the very least wish to be married to me!” Her smiling eyes quizzed him, and drew an answering gleam from his. Encouraged, she began to talk to him about things which were of interest to him. He seemed to be listening to her, but plunged her back into despondency by interrupting suddenly with the announcement that he wished he were dead. She tried to divert his thoughts, but unavailingly; a cloud had descended on his brow, his eyes brooded sombrely, and his beautiful mouth took on a tragic droop.
She left him presently, knowing that, however much he might like her, she had no power to raise his spirits. She had not dared to disclose to him that she was about to be married to his cousin, for she feared that this might fan into a flame the embers of his inculcated hatred of Philip, always smouldering beneath the surface of his affection. His mood was one of profound melancholy, but she thought that it needed only a touch to send him into one of his fits of ungovernable rage.
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