Джорджетт Хейер - Cousin Kate

“I can, of course,” admitted Kate, “though I’ve never been to Almack’s. I’ve never been presented either, so if you are thinking of asking my advice on the management of your hoop, I’m afraid you will miss the cushion!”

“Oh, no! Mama will show me, just as she showed my sisters,” said Miss Templecombe simply. “And they all three made good marriages!”

Kate glanced apprehensively at Torquil, wondering how he would receive this naive remark. He did not appear to have paid the least heed to it: his eyes were ardently devouring Dorothea’s exquisite countenance, and there was a smile on his lips. Kate could not forbear the thought that they were a singularly beautiful couple, and stole a look at Mr Templecombe’s face. It told her nothing, but she had a feeling that he did not view the very obvious attachment with complaisance. As though to lend colour to this presentiment, he pulled out his watch, exclaiming: “Dolly, if we don’t make haste, Mama will be sending out a search-party! “Servant, Miss Malvern! Yours, Torquil!”

“Oh, we’ll go along with you!” said Torquil, wheeling his horse. He said, over his shoulder, tossing the words at Kate: “You’ve no objection, coz, have you?”

“No, none. And much good it would do me if I had!” she added.

Torquil did not hear her, but Gurney Templecombe did, and burst out laughing. Ranging alongside her, he remarked quizzically: “Well said, ma’am!”

“I’m afraid it was very ill said!” she confessed, “It fell on the wrong ears! And I know, of course, that every allowance ought to be made for him. My aunt tells me that he is not at all robust, besides suffering from severe migraines, so that it’s no wonder he should be a trifle spoilt.”

“Mm, yes! Handsome boy, ain’t he?” drawled Gurney, looking after the young couple with a frown in his sleepy eyes. “Much better-looking than Philip, I suppose, though for my money—” He stopped, seeing that she was puzzled, and said: “Are you acquainted with Philip Broome, ma’am?”

“No, who is he?”

Torquil’s cousin. Friend of mine!” he answered. “Beg pardon, but I don’t perfectly understand! You can’t be a Broome, surely? Well, what I mean is, never heard Philip speak of you!”

“Oh, no, I’m not a Broome! Lady Broome was my father’s half-sister,” she explained. “But owing to a quarrel in the family I didn’t meet her until last week, when she invited me to visit Staplewood.”

“Invited you to—Did she, by Jove!” he said, surprised. “I wonder why—” He broke off, reddening, and giving an embarrassed cough. “Forgotten what I was going to say!”

“You were going to say that you wonder why she did invite me,” she supplied. “Torquil said the same, yesterday, and I wonder what you both mean! She invited me out of compassion, knowing me to be a destitute orphan—and I can never be sufficiently grateful to her!”

He stammered: “No, indeed! Just so! Shouldn’t think you could! Well, what I mean is—Did you say destitute, ma’am?”

“Forced to earn my bread!” she declared dramatically. She saw that he was quite horrified, and gave a gurgle of laughter.

“You’re shamming it!” he accused her.

“I’m not, but you’ve no need to look aghast, I promise you! To be sure, I didn’t precisely enjoy being a governess, but there are many worse fates. Or so I’ve been told!”

“Yes—well, stands to reason! Though when I think of the pranks m’sisters used to play, and how m’mother always blamed the wretched female who had ’em in charge—well, are there worse fates?”

“Between ourselves, sir, no!”

“Thought as much.” He was struck by a sudden idea, and added admiringly: “Y’know, you’re a very unusual girl, Miss Malvern!”

They parted from the Templecombes where the lane leading to Staplewood branched off the pike road. As they rode away, Torquil said, with a sidelong look: “You needn’t say anything to my mother, you know. Not that it signifies! Whalley will tell her fast enough!”

“If you mean that he will tell her we met Mr and Miss Templecombe, I am heartily glad of it!” said Kate directly. “I don’t at all wish to deceive my aunt. Why don’t you wish her to know?”

“She don’t like Dolly,” he answered shortly. “Doesn’t mean me to marry her. That’s why she won’t let me go to London.”

“Well, you are rather young to be thinking of marriage, aren’t you?” she suggested reasonably. “I daresay you won’t find her opposed to the match in another few years’ time. Tell me, who are the Templecombes, and what are they?”

“Perfectly respectable!” he said, firing up.

“That was obvious. I meant, what does the family consist of!”

He was instantly mollified. “Oh, I see! They are landowners, like ourselves. Lady Templecombe is a widow, and Gurney is her only son. She’s bird-witted! a silly widgeon, who lets herself be nose-led by Gurney. And he is nose-led by my dear, dear cousin Philip!”

She was startled by the suppressed venom in his voice, but said matter-of-factly: “Yes, he spoke of your cousin Philip. He seemed surprised that I had never heard of him. Tell me about him!”

“Philip, dear Kate, is my father’s nephew, and, after me, the heir to Papa’s titles and estates. He is also my chief enemy. Oh, yes, I assure you! All the narrow escapes from death I’ve had have occurred when he has been staying at Staplewood!”

She could only gasp. He threw her a bright, flickering smile, and said chattily: “Oh, yes! A copestone once fell from the pediment, missing me by inches. Wasn’t it odd? The branch of a tree, which I was climbing, broke under me. I was thrown at a fence which had been wired. I was—”

Recovering her breath, she interrupted: “These surely must have been accidents!”

“Yes, even Mama said so,” he agreed affably. “And she don’t love Philip! Papa does, though: positively dotes on him! My Uncle Julian was employed in the Diplomatic Service, wherefore Philip spent most of his holidays at Staplewood, ingratiating himself with my papa! He’s ten years older than I am, you know. Yes, does it not seem odd? It is due to the circumstances of Papa’s first wife having failed to rear beyond infancy any of her numerous offspring. I don’t know whether to be glad, or sorry.”

Summoning to her assistance all her faculties, she said: “I can’t tell that, but I do implore you, Torquil, not to refine too much on what may well have been accidents! If your mama did not believe—”

“Oh, but she did!” he told her, bright-eyed and smiling. “That’s why she places a guard about me! Philip has been her enemy from the outset!”

She was appalled into silence. It endured until the lodge-gates had been reached, when she said suddenly: “I don’t believe it! No, I don’t believe it!”

He laughed. “Don’t you? Wait, cousin, wait! You will see!”

Feeling very much as if she had strayed between the marbled covers of some lurid novel, she said no more, but rode in silence beside him up the long avenue to the terrace steps. Here she dismounted, gave her bridle into Whalley’s hand, and went quickly into the house. There was no one in the hall, but as she went up the stairs Pennymore came through the door which led to the kitchen-quarters, and she was obliged to scold herself for thinking that she detected a look of relief in his face. “So you are back, miss!” he said, smiling up at her. “Did you have an agreeable ride?”

Of impulse, and to try him, she answered: “Why, no, not very agreeable!”

Was there a shade of anxiety in his eyes? It was impossible to decide. He said, in his gentle way: “Oh, dear, dear! How was that, miss?”

“My cousin was out of humour, and I was mounted on a slug!”

He coughed. “Well, miss, the truth is that her ladyship wasn’t sure if you were clever in the saddle, so she mounted you on Jupiter—to give you a safe, comfortable ride!”

“What you mean is an armchair ride!” she said.

“Well, yes, miss!” he admitted, twinkling.

She laughed, and went on up to her bedchamber. It was only when she was taking off her riding-habit that she realized that he had not answered the first part of her complaint. Knowing that she should not have made it, she came to the conclusion that by ignoring it he had reproved her, and felt ashamed of herself.

She had just taken a cambric dress out of the wardrobe, and cast it on to the bed, while she searched for a spencer to wear with it, when a knock on the door heralded the entrance of Lady Broome, who was followed by Sidlaw, carrying various dresses in her arms.

“So I gave you an armchair ride, did I?” said her ladyship, laughing at her. “Pray, how was I to know that you could keep a horse in hand? So many people who are buckish about horses belong to the awkward squad. Never mind! Next time you go out you shall ride my own mare; a little spirting thoroughbred! A perfect fencer, but, alas, I don’t hunt nowadays! Now, tell me, my love: do you like these few dresses which Sidlaw has made up for you? Your nurse furnished me with your measurements, but Sidlaw would wish you to try them on while they are still only tacked together. I purchased the materials in London, pretending that I was doing so for the daughter I never had, and I do hope I chose what you will like!”

“B-but, ma’am!” stammered Kate, quite overset. “You must not! You—you are crushing me with generosity!”

“Oh, pooh! nothing of the sort! You mean you don’t like them!”

“Oh, no, no, no!” cried Kate, distressed. “Only that I can’t be so much beholden to you! I’ve done nothing to deserve such kindness, ma’am! Oh, what a truly beautiful evening-dress! Take it away, Sidlaw, before I lose my resolution!”