‘Please.. please don’t,’
Catherine might have been pleading with the bucket to spare the pup. The farmwife was incensed, deaf to all but her rage. Looking frantically around for help, Catherine realized none would be forthcoming from the crowd who now stood watching agog at this new development in the drama. Then without another thought she turned to the farm stall holding the ruined bread and other sundry baking items the woman had come to sell. There had to be something she could use to break through to the enraged woman before it was too late. Grasping the two corners of a small hessian sack on the stall, and with a strength she hardly knew she possessed, swung it at the large round rump bending once more with murderous intent over the bucket. The resulting explosion of flour as the bag broke was nothing short of catastrophic. The farmwife was sent sprawling by the force of the blow, yelling and covered in flour from head to foot and Catherine found herself equally coated. The crowd, shocked silent for a fraction of a second, burst into peals of laughter at the spectacle. Catherine barely had time to register the shocked countenance of her companion before moving quickly to save the little animal, but the boy was faster. Diving past the prostrate form of his mother he grabbed the soaked scrap of fur by now liberally dusted in flour and clutching it to his chest made to dash away, only to be caught none too gently in the grip of an elegant hand.
‘Well now lady, would you care to explain why the minute I let you out of my sight you manage to cause no small amount of chaos?’
Catherine was speechless and acutely aware of the spectacle she presented, covered in flour and faced by the harridan who by now was purple faced and choking with rage, while the crowd fell about laughing, and all to save a useless runt puppy. Before she could answer Lady Barrington began to speak, but Alex silenced her with a wave of his free hand. The other still held the struggling boy and as the crowd taking in his grim countenance began to melt away.
‘Silence woman!, enough of your bawling before I have you clapped in goal for involving my wife in this mess.’
The farmwife was silenced but Catherine stood just as silent, as her impossible position becoming clearer by the minute as her husbands cold controlled anger washed over her.
‘Lady, I’m waiting for some kind of explanation. Has this creature lost her mind and attempted to smother you with her flour?’
‘I merely sought to save the pup, I only meant to help...’
She ran out of words, there simply weren’t any that could excuse this, but still she worried she would have to leave the scrap to it’s fate.
Alex turned his attention to the boy in his grasp. He’d stopped struggling now and was engaged in hugging and kissing the wriggling pup, who, having survived the murderous attempt on it’s life, was now enthusiastically engaged in licking any part of the child it could reach.
‘Well boy, it seems you must do the explaining, for you and you mother seem to have robbed her ladyship of her voice. Come now what mischief have you done to bring about this mess?’
The child gawped open-mouthed, then Alex loosened his grip giving the boy a shake as he did so in the hope of an answer and taking advantage of the opportunity the boy twisted away to hurl himself at Catherine, pushing the battered pup into her hands.
‘Bydd Potsun un ddiogel da chi, na fydd Mam yn gallu ei foddi os byddwch yn mynd ag e!
Catherine didn’t need to understand the language to know what he was saying and at last found her voice.
‘Please Alex, please, I must keep him or next time she’ll drown him.’
Exasperated and still not much the wiser, Alex turned to the farmwife, calmer now, though she still held a murderous glint in her eye and Catherine feared if she saved the pup, the child might be the one to bear the brunt of her thwarted wrath.
‘It is just the boy doesn’t listen sir, and made a pet of the runt when it should have been drowned. It’ll never be any good, it being a runt and we don’t have enough to feed those that can’t work. Then it got loose and ran over the bread, and we need to sell the bread...’
Catherine had moved to his side and looking down he marveled that she could still look appealing, covered as she was with a dusting of flour and holding a sodden scrap of wriggling fur tight against her dress, oblivious of the damage it was causing to the fine silk. Her eyes were deep violet with emotion and he felt an an inexplicable urge to kiss away the smudge of flour that adorned the tip of her nose. The thought was so intriguing that he quite lost track of the tale of woe.
‘Please Alex, let me keep him, and we can pay for the bread, so that the boy need not take the beating I feel sure awaits him?’
‘Enough now lady, tis time we returned, hand back that unspeakable mess, lord knows what vermin it shelters.’
Catherine's heart sank at the implacable tone, only to brighten again at his next utterance.
‘Woman, take the boy and the runt, clean both up and do it without drowning either. Then in the morning bring them to Llangorfan. You’ll be paid for the bread and by then I’ll have decided what’s to become of two of them.’
‘Come lady.’
He proffered his arm and ignoring the fact that the hand she laid on it was sticky with damp flour led her away. Catherine accompanied him in silence, overjoyed at the reprieve he’d given both boy and dog, but unable to work out what he’d do next with regard to her own behaviour. Alex was angry, she could feel the tension through her hand resting lightly on his arm. Looking around she noted there was no sign of Lady Barrington. That at least was a blessing. What she failed to notice as she did so was a pair of dark eyes in a swarthy face watching the scene with interest from just beyond a nearby stall. If she had she’d have recognized Jem Cutler, self-styled leader of the gypsy encampment that had been settled not far from Holleydean and she’d have seen him smile, a slow speculative smile that did not reach his eyes.
It was half way back to Llangorfan before either of them spoke, and it was Catherine that broke the silence, so tense by now she thought she might scream.
‘What do you intend for the boy and his pup my lord?’
She watched as his eyes narrowed and tried to gauge the depth of his anger by the tone of his voice.
‘Why do you ask lady? Surely you can see you’ve meddled enough of one day, or would you still seek to have your own way?’
‘I only thought to help, and it will be safe with me, the pup, please Alex.’
‘And to what use would you put it, a runt puppy that, as the farmwife so rightly pointed out should have been drown at birth. If you so badly want a pet Kate then surely a better one than this can be found, one able to perform some useful function if only to keep the rats in the barn down.’
Catherine was heartened, he’d called her Kate, he reserved that name for when they were alone and could not possibly be as angry as he pretended.
‘Maybe I was not meant to chose my lord, we are not always given our preferred choices are we? I begin to see that may not always be a bad thing.’
Alex smiled, little minx, she could read him despite his efforts to conceal the mirth he felt. She looked so comical sitting there covered in flour, frowning to herself trying to work out how angry he was with her. Yet all the time hanging on to the idea that she must have the bedraggled, vermin-ridden scrap. If it would not be quite unseemly for the two of them to arrive home covered in flour he’d have pulled her to him right now and kissed her senseless. No matter, there would be just enough time to help remove that soiled gown before he went to inspect his new purchase.
He wanted to be there when the mare was delivered to his stable, it would give him time to take stock, to try and get a measure of the gang’s number and strength. He’d need to be sure of that, three or four it seemed had taken part in the previous thefts. Two to sell the horse at the auction, one playing the part of a farmer wealthy enough to have such quality horseflesh to sell and another to act as groom, then another to join them in stealing it back from it’s new owner. He’d met them today when he’d p
urchased the bay mare he knew quite well belonged to Lord Roxton. It was known that the gypsy community was being used to transport the animals around the country, he and his companions, who were working together to put a stop to the wretched business had uncovered that fact. They had also discovered the identity of the leader of the gang and had been shocked to number him as one of their own. If all went well with their plan it would see that scoundrel well and truly unmasked and caught along with his gang, he would hang along with them too if he Alex had anything to with it. It was a sickening business and no mistake.
He was woken from his reverie by their arrival home, but his hope of a little diversion before attending to the business in hand was dashed as soon as he alighted the carriage. One look at Evans’ agitated features put him on his guard as he turned to hand Catherine out onto the gravel beside him.
‘We have visitors milord, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Brook arrived an hour since I have put them in the blue drawing room to await your return.’
‘Oh Dorothea, here and without any prior arrangement, there must be something amiss!’
The panic in Catherine’s voice cut through the tangle of thoughts in his own, making Alex respond with less tact than he would otherwise have done.
‘I’m sure there is no need of such agitation Catherine, and I’m sure you see that before you can receive guests you must attend to your appearance. It would not do for your sister to see you in such a state of dishevelment, it would be enough to frighten her into a fit.’
Catherine stopped in mid flow, ‘oh yes, I’m sure you are right, I must change, of course I must. Evans could you please send Anwen to help me and see that my sister and her husband are informed that we are returned and will join them shortly.’ Then she fairly flew up the steps and into the house.
‘Evans, I will join our guests and we’ll have tea served while we await her ladyship.’
‘Yes milord.’
Chapter 7
Catherine struggled to remove the ruined dress, panic rising by the second, numbing her mind and making her fingers clumsy. There must be something terrible amiss for Dorothea to come to break her silence in person. Her imagination was running riot, fear making her sharp when Anwen arrived to help.
‘Where have you been? No don’t fuss with that help me out of this gown and do something with my hair, quickly.’
It must only have been a few minutes, though it seemed like an endless, slow process, before she was made presentable. Hair brushed into some semblance of order, all traces of flour wiped away and in a fresh gown in her favourite shade of blue she was able to make her way back downstairs.
Alex had joined their guests in the drawing room, he rose to meet her as she entered and his grave countenance confirmed her fears, bringing the barely suppressed panic back to the fore. She fairly shook with it and tried in vain to calm herself.
‘Alex...’
‘Calm yourself Catherine, there is no need for such alarm. Your father has been unwell but your sister has come with the news that he is on the road to recovery. See speak with her yourself.’
His words began to sink in as he took her arm and led her into the room. There was nothing to fear, and there was dear Dorothea, smiling as she rose to meet her, wrapping her arms around her. Dorothea’s perfume, the sweet, familiar scent of pink roses enveloped her and Catherine began to cry.
‘Oh dearest Kate, don’t cry, he will be well again soon. The doctors are certain he will recover with care. Mama is with him, never leaving his side and as soon as I may I will return to do my share. The best medicine though will be to see you, his darling girl and to know you have found the forgiveness he craves in your heart.’
It was many minutes before Catherine could see her sister clearly, many minutes before she was able to dry her tears and find her voice, but even then she was not able to make sense of the words.
‘I don’t understand, Papa is unwell but set to recover, that much is clear, but I don’t understand, why he is looking to me for forgiveness. Surely it is I who look for his forgiveness, have begged for it over and over in my letters. I wrote of how repentant I am for such girlish resistance to his wishes that I wed. I wrote of my acceptance of my marriage, and of my happiness here in my new life and my realization that I should have trusted him as my father and obeyed him in the spirit of that trust. Then when he refused an answer to my letters I wrote to Mama and to you Dorothea, but you were all so angry with me and I realized that though it pained me to do so, I must wait a while for you to forgive me.’
‘Kate, you must be mistaken, we wrote Papa, Mama and I, but received no answer. Papa and Mama felt you needed time to come to see that they had acted with your happiness in mind and were reconciled that it might be some time before you would forgive them. I would not be so patient, and sent note after note, knowing that you would not spurn me, your Dorothea. Imagine my distress, my bewilderment to receive nothing in return. I began to be convinced you were unwell, that could be the only excuse and I determined to come and find out for myself, but Papa was took with a fever and I was unable to leave him and Mama. Only now that I see him on the road to recovery was I able to ask dear Charles to make the arrangements for our journey.’
‘Ladies, calm yourselves, what are a few lost letters now? Of much more importance is this news of Calthorpe’s recovery. Come, Dorothea help our dear sister to be seated and take some tea to soothe your nerves.’
‘Dear Charles,’
Catherine turned to her brother-in-law with a weak smile.
‘I am remiss and have not welcomed you to our home, do forgive me.’
‘My dear there is nothing to forgive, come dry your tears and while you sisters are reunited Tremayne and I will put our heads together and see if we can’t solve the mystery of the letters.’
‘I see I must confess and reveal my part in this.’
Catherine looked up on hearing again the exaggerated, lazy drawl Alex had been affecting all day.
‘You see there really is no mystery. As her husband I was of the opinion that my lady would need time to settle into her new life. Time to leave all girlish thoughts and misgivings behind her in Sussex and realize that this new life in a new home, though different, need not be any less filled with contentment. To this end I gave instructions that, for the time being at least, these letters should be kept from reaching their destination. I wrote to her Papa, to advise him of this and received his opinion on the matter.’
‘You kept my letters, and Papa knew, I don’t believe Papa would countenance such actions, knowing as he must how important messages from my family would be to me.’
Catherine stood up, almost upsetting the tea tray in her agitation, eyes bright with anger, and Alex regretted that he must quash her spirit with his next utterance when every instinct urged him to pull her into his arms and subdue her with kisses.
However there was no choice, the matter of the letters must be closed and closed now. His voice was grim when he spoke.
‘Lady you forget yourself in front of our guests. That you question my authority in this matter is further confirmation that my initial assessment was indeed correct and that you may, even now, not have fully accepted your changed circumstances. I will brook no more speculation on this matter, be content that you are now reconciled with your sister and make the most of this unexpected visit.’
Alex watched as his words changed the colour of her eyes from the bright blue of anger to the deep violet of resentment before she lowered them, re-seated herself and began to pour tea for her sister. She gave way now, seeming to accept his authority in company, but the argument was not over, he’d put money on it.
Catherine poured the tea hardly able to conceal her resentment. Her hands shook and the rattle of the china threatened to give her away, but she forced a weak smile and donned the mantle of the perfect hostess, for now. There was something more, she was sure of it. Oh Alex was certainly overbearing enough at times to have acted so, to have withheld her letters and the
n to have spoken to her with such censure, but his eyes were guarded, and there was something in his demeanor, a determination that the subject be closed. Why was that? Then there was Dorothea, sitting demure enough it would seem, but every so often she gave her husband a look that surely held some secret meaning, and which he returned with a barely perceptible raising of an eyebrow, or a ghost of a frown. She would have to contrive to be alone with Dorothea, then she would get at the truth.
‘Please Dorothea, tell me all that there is to know about dear Papa, you spoke of a fever...’
‘Dearest, please do not worry yourself, it was a grave fever but I left him in good spirits and though much weakened the doctors are convinced he will, with care, make a complete a recovery. Mama is looking after him with such solicitude, and I will return to do my share as soon as I have reassured myself of your health and happiness. You will of course need time to organise your own visit, but once we are all reunited his spirits will be raised again, and all will be well.
‘I fear it may be some weeks before we can make the journey to Sussex, I have pressing business that must be attended to, which will delay our visit. Before your departure however might I suggest that Catherine write a letter to her father so that you may deliver proof of her health and happiness to him immediately on your return.’
Alex spoke with an air of fashionable boredom, but Catherine detected a thread of steel behind his words. Looking up she saw it reflected in the flint grey of his eyes and knew better than to object. If he remained determined not to take her home then she would go herself the next time business took him to town. For the moment she would concentrate on prying out of Dorothea whatever it was she and Charles were at such pains to conceal. To do that she would need to get her sister on her own.
Vengeful Lord, Defiant Lady. Page 9