Kate's Progress

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  And having bestowed this nugget, she took her leave.

  Someone had thoughtfully left a walking-stick propped against her wardrobe, and with its aid, she could get about all right, even managed the stairs. She could just dot her foot down this morning, though she still couldn’t take any weight on it. Realistically, she couldn’t go back to Little’s yet – would have to stay here at least another day. She was torn two ways about that. She longed just to be near Ed; but the sooner she got away and started the healing process, the better it would be for her. She knew that’s what Lauren would say. Jess, being an incurable romantic and having little grasp of reality at the best of times, would tell her to stay as long as she could in the hope of being suddenly noticed à la Barbara Cartland: ‘My God, but – you’re beautiful!’ Some hope!

  All was quiet downstairs. She got back on the sofa with Lizzie and Jane. She realized that this probably was not the best book for someone in her frame of mind; but she spent as much time staring at the rain running down the window panes as reading, in any case. The dogs surged in, suggesting she’d feel much better if she went out for a nice long walk, and that rain was lovely, really it was; but when she didn’t take the bait, they folded up philosophically in various spots around the room, just glad of the company.

  The sound of a car outside broke into the somnolence, everyone perked up and looked at the door, and a moment later Camilla came in, wearing – Kate would never have thought to see the day – a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a sweater too big for her. She had her dress from last night over her arm, her face was innocent of make-up, and she looked about twenty-five and wonderfully excited.

  ‘Well!’ Kate said.

  Camilla tried to look stern, but her mouth wanted to smile and wouldn’t cooperate. ‘You knew,’ she accused.

  ‘I knew what?’ Kate hedged.

  ‘You knew Harry was going to propose.’

  ‘Advice to the lovelorn is the prerogative of the bedridden,’ Kate said. Camilla blinked at that, long words not being her forte. ‘You’re going too fast. Tell me everything. Was Armandine’s nice?’

  ‘It’s lovely, very romantic, but that’s not the point. It was Harry – he was so different! I’ve always liked him, always thought he was a lovely man, but nothing more than that. He never behaved as though he wanted to be anything but a friend.’

  ‘Diffidence,’ Kate said. ‘He didn’t think he had a chance with you.’

  ‘Well, I call that silly,’ said Camilla. ‘How could I know whether I liked him, when I didn’t know he liked me?’

  ‘That’s what I said. And you did? My God,’ she said, suddenly realizing, ‘you haven’t said yet if you accepted him. I’m assuming – oh, please say you didn’t turn him down. Please say you said yes.’

  ‘Of course I said yes,’ Camilla exclaimed, and Kate felt a ridiculous surge of relief and satisfaction. ‘Would I have stayed the night if I’d said no?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Kate. Camilla blushed slightly, which made Kate blush. They’d hit a very personal point in the conversation, and Kate was suddenly afraid Camilla might tell her how it was, while Camilla feared Kate might ask. ‘I’m so happy for you,’ Kate went on quickly, to steer away from the rock. ‘I think he’ll make a wonderful husband and you’ll be very happy.’

  ‘I think so too,’ said Camilla. ‘He was so different last night – at the restaurant, I mean,’ she added hastily, though it was clear she was meaning afterwards as well. ‘So strong and masculine and determined and – well, you could just imagine him in the army, leading his men, and them all adoring him. The sort of man you’d follow into battle. That you’d trust with your life.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kate. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘So when he asked, and he said he didn’t expect me to answer right away, that I’d need time to think about it, I didn’t even stop to think. I just said yes, and as soon as I said it I knew it was right.’ She sighed, looking around the room but probably not seeing it. ‘It’ll be strange to be going away from here after all these years. Harry has a lovely house – I remember when I was a child his mother used to open it to the public on Queen Alexandra day. Of course, it needs redecorating. Harry says I can have a free hand – it’ll be such fun! Re-doing a house that will really be my own, not like this place. I shall get Flick to help me – might as well keep it in the family. Oh, and he wants to buy me a new horse as a wedding present. He says Henna’s not really right for me, and I think he’s probably right.’ She smiled as another thought occurred to her. ‘It’ll be nice to have a permanent bridge partner, too. We can have bridge parties at home. The morning room would be perfect for that – you could easily get six tables in there.’

  In all this joy and expansiveness, Kate gave a thought for Jocasta. ‘I wonder what Jocasta will think. I know she likes him, but how will she feel about leaving The Hall?’

  ‘Oh, as long as she can take the ponies, she won’t mind. Though Harry says we ought to start thinking about a proper horse for her. She’s old enough. There’s a lovely room at the back that will be just right for her bedroom, with a linen cupboard next door we can convert into an en-suite shower room. In any case, she’ll be away at school a lot of the time, so it won’t be such a big adjustment for her.’

  It seemed as good a time as any to put in a word. Kate said, ‘She really hates being at boarding school. She was talking to me about it. She’d love to go to day school instead. She mentioned a place called Comyns?’

  ‘Oh, a child her age doesn’t know her own mind. She talks about hating school, but everyone does. I did, when I was her age.’

  Kate left it. It wasn’t for her to interfere. She had planted the seed – anything more might be counterproductive.

  ‘So, when’s the happy day going to be?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re talking about the beginning of September,’ Camilla said happily. ‘I’ll need time to have my dress made and arrange the wedding. I’ve been thinking of venues … .’

  She went off into a happy burble of wedding plans, and Kate allowed herself to drift on the stream of warm air, only half listening, until Camilla came back down to earth and said briskly, ‘I must go up and change. I look an absolute fright. And I’ve a million phone calls to make.’

  And she was gone, the dogs following her in the happy delusion that brisk movement meant a walk for them. She was so happy, Kate realized, she hadn’t asked about Addison.

  Kate was alone for lunch. Camilla had drifted back down in a smart jersey two-piece and a cloud of perfume to say she was going out to lunch with Harry and some friends – presumably to make the announcement. Jack was seeing some potential customers, taking them to lunch at the Blue Ball; and Ed simply didn’t appear. Mrs B brought her soup on a tray and the news that one of the gutters was leaking. ‘Always something to be done with an old house like this,’ she sighed, ‘and Bradshaw shouldn’t be going up ladders at his age.’ Evidently Camilla hadn’t told her the news, so Kate didn’t mention it. It wasn’t her place.

  After lunch she was restless for fresh air, and as the rain seemed to be easing a little, she struggled into a wax jacket and elderly hat she found in the welly lobby, and with the aid of her trusty walking-stick managed to hobble round the dank and dripping garden for a quarter of an hour. The dogs watched her from the scullery door – so much for their fine words! Only Jacob ventured out to join her, but he dashed in as soon as she did, and seemed to take great pleasure in standing on his hind legs and making an interesting pattern on her jeans with his muddy front ones.

  She found Ed in the drawing room, working on his laptop, with papers and notebooks all around it on the coffee table.

  ‘Hello,’ she said awkwardly.

  He looked up, unsmiling. ‘You found the walking-stick, I see.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Was that you?’

  ‘I thought it would make things easier for you,’ he said.

  Easier for me to get out of here and out of your life, Kate
translated for herself.

  She hobbled towards the sofa. ‘I think I could probably go home tomorrow,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘I don’t think that’s wise. Jack says you have to live mostly upstairs at Little’s. And you’d have no-one around if anything happened. I think you should stay here until you’re steadier on your feet – at least a couple more days. There’s no hurry, is there?’

  ‘No – except that I’m running out of clothes.’

  ‘Someone can take you over to fetch anything you need. And Mrs B can put things in the washing machine, you know.’

  ‘Well – thanks,’ Kate said. ‘I will stay a bit longer, if it’s no trouble.’

  ‘No trouble,’ he affirmed, and remained looking at her, as if he wanted a conversation. She couldn’t think of a neutral topic.

  ‘I’m sorry about Addison,’ she said at last.

  It was the wrong thing to say. The atmosphere seemed to chill slightly. But he said, ‘Don’t be. It was an awkward situation.’ A pause, and then, almost to himself, ‘I seemed to have raised expectations in her that I hadn’t intended to.’

  This was more of a revelation than she had ever had from him, so she ventured, ‘I thought – in London … Jack said … Weren’t you close at one time?’

  He seemed to hesitate over whether to answer her or not. Then he said, ‘At one time. But her firm moved her to New York, and I thought that was the end of it. That was definitely the impression she gave. I was – surprised when she turned up here, obviously thinking we were still …’

  He didn’t finish, and Kate thought: you were too much of a gentleman to tell her she was wrong so bog off. But, for goodness’ sake, how far was he prepared to take it? Would he have ended up marrying her because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings? That was too much chivalry by a very long streak!

  Perhaps he read something in her eye, because he said, faintly rueful, ‘I suppose I should have grasped the nettle. I didn’t handle it very well. But I was – feeling confused at the time. Unsettled.’

  She waited, but that seemed to be the end of that revelation. Confused and unsettled about what? Oh well – since there seemed to be confession in the air, she felt she might as well clear something up. ‘Look, I don’t want to speak ill of the – the departed,’ she began, ‘but I just want to say, about Henna, that I didn’t tell Addison I was scared of riding her.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.

  ‘You know?’

  ‘Susie told me, when you were being seen by the doctor. She said Addison had told you I wanted you not to ride. I expect,’ he concluded, ‘it was a misunderstanding.’

  Too much of a gentleman to slag her off, even now. Kate liked that. She’d let it remain officially a misunderstanding. Still, she had her reputation to save. ‘And I didn’t foul her at that jump.’

  ‘I know,’ he said again.

  ‘You know?

  ‘Henna veered in front of you. It wasn’t your fault. I was there, by the jump. I saw.’

  ‘I wondered how you got there so quickly,’ Kate said gratefully.

  ‘I was afraid she’d have trouble. Henna doesn’t like having her mouth hung on to.’

  ‘I know,’ Kate said in her turn.

  ‘Can we drop the subject now?’ he said. ‘Inquest over.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kate said, a little mortified to have upset him. He returned to his laptop, and she picked up Jane Austen again, since he didn’t seem to mind her being there. She still didn’t get much read. It was easier, and more pleasurable in a probing-the-mouth-ulcer kind of way, to spend the time looking at him across the room, his thick, healthy hair, his beautiful face (what would he look like if he really smiled?) his lean, strong body, the flash of his hands over the keys, the little frown of concentration between his brows. She had to look at him as much as possible, to store up fat against the winter to come.

  And suddenly he looked up and caught her at it. ‘Was there something?’ he asked politely.

  She knew what she had to say. It was rather blurty just to come out with it at a moment like this, but when else was she going to have his undivided attention?

  ‘I’m going to sell Little’s,’ she said. ‘I’m going back to London.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said. He didn’t like that. His eyes cooled a fraction. ‘I see,’ he said. Then, ‘I thought you liked it here.’ He sounded hurt.

  It was the last thing she wanted. ‘I do!’ she said quickly. ‘I love it! I always thought the Bursford area was the most beautiful place on earth. And I’ve been so happy here – at The Hall, I mean. You’ve all been so kind to me.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I can’t trespass on your hospitality for ever,’ she said wretchedly. ‘I have to – well, get on with my life, I suppose. Go back to my job, all that sort of thing.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, blankly. ‘I should have realized. This has just been a holiday from reality for you.’

  She didn’t know how to answer that. She wanted to say this place was more real than any other to her, and that it was also the promised land and therefore, since she could not have him, since the promise would never be fulfilled, the ultimate in fantasy. Way too much information. You simply can’t tell a man who has shown no interest in you that you have fallen in love with him. She appreciated all of a sudden Harry’s courage in speaking up to Camilla.

  Miserably, she pushed all those things down, and went on to the next point. ‘What I wanted to say was that when I go, I want to sell Little’s back to you – to the estate.’

  His attention sharpened. He surveyed her with interest and, it seemed, some kind of caution, as you would look at a snake that might or might not be poisonous. ‘Why?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘Because it should never have been sold to me. You are trying so hard to keep the estate intact, and I know it upset you to have part of it sold away. So I want you to have it back. I’d give it to you if I could, but I’m afraid I really need the money.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you give it to me,’ he said.

  Too proud to accept a gift from the likes of me? Kate wondered. She ploughed on, ‘I don’t want to make a profit. I would like to sell it back to you for what I paid for it, plus what I’ve spent on it so far. I think that would be fair.’

  ‘Extremely fair,’ he said. Still there was nothing coming back from him.

  ‘I wouldn’t like to sell it to a stranger,’ she tried.

  He lifted his hand slightly, as if to stop her saying any more. He frowned in thought. ‘Things are in a state of flux at the moment,’ he said. ‘You know about Camilla’s news?’

  ‘She told you?’

  ‘Harry rang me.’

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ Kate said cautiously. Surely he must be glad about that if nothing else.

  ‘I’m very happy for her. I think he’ll make her very happy. But it will mean an upheaval in the household, and of course there are legal implications. And I’m in the middle of a – a financial review. Will you hold off for a day or two? Shelve your offer to sell me Little’s? And not make that offer to anyone else?’

  ‘If you wish,’ she said. ‘In any case, I wouldn’t think of offering it to anyone else until you’d decided.’

  ‘Please,’ he said, ‘promise me.’

  ‘I promise,’ she said, a little hurt. Didn’t he trust her? She went back, rather ostentatiously, to her book, and heard him rattling the keys again. After a little while he stood up, closed the laptop, collected up his papers, and went out.

  Kate felt things had not gone well, and that his opinion of her had suffered. She had disappointed him in some way, though she didn’t know how. She turned pages, but didn’t read a thing.

  Mrs B stuck her head round the door and asked if she wanted some tea, and she said yes, gratefully, and hoped that when it came she could get a spot of conversation with it. She was pining for some friendly human contact.

  Before the tea a
rrived, however, her attention was drawn to the sound of raised voices outside, on the gravel area in front of the house. She got her stick and hobbled over to the window, to see Phil Kingdon’s large shiny Range Rover parked in the entrance, blocking the drive, and Phil himself standing beside it, apparently involved in a row with Ed. There was fast talking going on, though she couldn’t hear the actual words. Phil was making gestures, and jabbing his finger at Ed. Ed was standing straight, at his stiffest and coldest. Phil was getting red in the face. He walked away a few steps, and rapidly back, into the fray again, waving his hands.

  Now Ed said something that gave him pause. He stared, and when he began talking again, he seemed to be blustering. He was on the wrong foot – now Ed had the upper hand. Kate wanted to cheer. Now Ed was talking, his face thrust towards Phil menacingly, and Phil was listening in silence, as if he very much didn’t like what he was hearing. Then he stalked away, jumped into his Range Rover, did a violent three-point turn, and roared away, pulling out into the road without even looking.

  Even as he disappeared, Jack’s dark blue Jaguar pulled in, parked, and Jack got out, staring back over his shoulder, then put the question to Ed that Kate had no difficulty in guessing. ‘What’s wrong with Phil?’

  There was long, low and urgent talk from Ed, which seemed to fill Jack with surprise and consternation. At one point he looked over towards the house and Kate instinctively flinched back, though there was no reason she shouldn’t be looking out. And after some more talk, questions from Jack and answers from Ed, Jack got back in his car and drove away, in the other direction from the one Phil had taken.

  Ed turned and walked back towards the house. He looked across and Kate thought he had seen her. She hobbled back to the sofa, and in a moment he came in.

  ‘Did you hear?’ he asked her abruptly.

  ‘I heard raised voices so I looked out to see what was happening, but I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying,’ she explained, a little nervously. She didn’t want him to think she was a congenital eavesdropper.