“A great pity,” agreed her ladyship. “But I hope he may be in a way to be better.” She paused outside the door of Kate’s bedchamber, but instead of bidding her goodnight she said: “I shall come and tuck you up presently, so don’t fall asleep! I want to talk to you.”

She then went to her own room, leaving Kate considerably surprised, and quite at a loss to guess what they were going to talk about.

A very sleepy abigail was awaiting her. She had tried to dissuade Ellen from waiting to put her to bed, but without success. Ellen had looked shocked, and had said that she knew her duty. “It isn’t your duty if I don’t desire you to undress me,” had argued Kate. But Ellen had said that it was her duty, and that her ladyship would be very angry if she failed in it.

“Well, her ladyship won’t know!”

“Oh, yes, miss, she will—begging your pardon! Miss Sidlaw would tell her, and I’d be turned off! Oh, pray, miss, don’t say I must go to bed before you do!”

Since Ellen was plainly on the verge of tears, Kate was obliged to give way. She reflected that although no great hardship was suffered by Ellen or Sidlaw at Staplewood, where early hours were the rule, the life of a fashionable lady’s dresser must be arduous indeed. Perhaps a governess’ lot was preferable: she might have very much more to do during the day, but at least she was allowed to sleep at night.

She had just tied on her nightcap when Lady Broome tapped at the door. She jumped into bed, telling Ellen to admit her ladyship, and then go to bed, and sat up amongst the pillows, hugging her knees.

Lady Broome had taken off her dress, and was wearing an elegant dressing-gown of lavender satin, lavishly trimmed with lace and ribbons. Kate exclaimed involuntarily: “Oh, how pretty! How well it becomes you, ma’am! Ellen, set a chair for her ladyship before you go, if you please! I shan’t want you again tonight.”

“Yes, the purple shades do become me,” said Lady Broome, sitting down beside the bed. “Very few women can wear them. Now, you look your best in blue, and orange-blush. I wonder how yellow would become you? Not amber, or lemon, but primrose. Have you ever worn it?”

“Now and then, ma’am,” replied Kate.

“I must send for some patterns,” said Lady Broome, and went on to talk about silks and muslins and modes, until Kate said firmly that she had so many dresses already that she had no need of any more. She did not think that her aunt had come to her room to discuss fashions, and waited for the real object of her visit to be disclosed.

She had to wait several minutes, while Lady Broome continued to talk of furbelows, but at last Lady Broome said: “You looked particularly well in the dress you wore for our dinner-party; Torquil could scarcely take his eyes off you! My love, I must tell you that you have done Torquil a great deal of good! I am so grateful to you: you are precisely the kind of girl he needs!”

A little overcome, Kate stammered: “You are very good, Aunt! I hope you may be right, because it has seemed to me that—that by trying to keep Torquil out of the sullens I could—in some sort—repay you for your—your kindness to me!”

“Dear child!” Lady Broome said, in a voice of velvet, and stretching out a hand to clasp one of Kate’s. “If that was your aim, you have succeeded! He is in far better frame! Dr Delabole has been telling me that there has been a marked improvement since he had the benefit of your companionship.”

Kate swallowed, and said rather faintly: “Has there, ma’am?”

“Yes, indeed there has been!” Lady Broome assured her. “There is a want of disposition in him, and he still has odd humours, but I now have every hope that he will drive a better trade—because his ardent desire is to please you!”

Kate could only stare at her. It did not seem to her that Torquil had any desire to please anyone but himself; and she was unable to repress the thought that if his mother thought him improved since her arrival at Staplewood his previous state must have been parlous indeed.

Lady Broome smiled at her, pressing her hand. “He has a great regard for you, you know! I have come to believe that you would be just the wife for him!”

Kate gasped. “Are you joking me, ma’am?”

“No, indeed I am not! I should welcome such an alliance. Have you never thought of it?”

“Good God, no!”

“But why not?”

Utterly taken aback, Kate said, groping for words: “I’m too old—it would be quite unsuitable! Dear Aunt Minerva, forgive me, but—but you must be all about in your head!”

“Oh, no, I’m not, I promise you! I think it will be best for Torquil to marry a woman who is older than himself; and as for unsuitable, what, pray, do you mean, Kate?”

“I mean that I’m a penniless nobody!”

Lady Broome raised her brows. “You are certainly penniless, my dear, but scarcely a nobody! You are a Malvern, as I am myself, and if Sir Timothy thought me fit to be his wife you must surely be fit to become his son’s wife!”

“Yes, if I were younger, or he older! If we loved one another!”

“Oh, love!—” said Lady Broome, shrugging her shoulders. “It isn’t necessary for a successful marriage, my dear, but you may be sure that Torquil is in love with you!”

Fudge!” exclaimed Kate wrathfully. “Oh, I beg your pardon, ma’am, but it is fudge! Why, he was fancying himself in love with Miss Templecombe when I first came here!”

“I am thankful that you drove her out of his head! She would not have done for him!”

“No, very likely not, but the thing is that he is by far too young to be fixing his interest! Good God, ma’am, he hasn’t been granted the opportunity to meet any—any eligible girls! When he is older—when his health is established—and you permit him to leave Staplewood—”

“I shall not do so.” The words, granite-hard, fell heavily, and all at once, seeing the grim set to her aunt’s mouth, and the stern resolution in her eyes, Kate was afraid, and almost shrank from her. But the revealing moment was swiftly gone: Lady Broome laughed softly, and said: “He is too handsome, and too big a matrimonial prize! Every matchmaking mother in London would be on the scramble for him, and he would fall a victim to the first designing female who set her cap at him! No, no, I mean to see him safely riveted before I set him loose upon the town! Does that seem unfeeling? Believe me, I know him too well to run any risks! His constitution will always be delicate, I fear, and a few weeks racketing about London would knock him up, just as his father was knocked-up. That is why I wish him to marry a woman of sense, not a giddy girl.”

Kate said carefully: “Yes, ma’am, you must hope that he will do so, but not for some years yet, surely! He is only nineteen, and young for his years, I think. I have been acquainted with many boys of his age, and although some of them were what my father called callow halflings they were none of them so—so childish as Torquil!”

“Exactly so!” said Lady Broome. “Other boys are sent to school, and find their feet. It was not possible to expose Torquil to the rigours of school-life. He was the sickliest child, and at one time I despaired of rearing him. But I did rear him, thanks to Dr Delabole’s skill and understanding, and he is now going on prosperously. But he is excitable, and easily led. I don’t scruple to tell you, my dear, that I dread what might be the result if he were allowed to run free. I believe, however, that if he were married, it would give him the ballast he lacks. And that,” she said, with a smile, “would be a weight off my mind, Kate!”

“Aunt Minerva!” said Kate, drawing a long breath, “I collect that you think I should be able to give him ballast, but I do beg you to believe that you are mistaken!”

“Oh, no!” replied her ladyship. “I’m not mistaken!”

“But I don’t wish to marry him!” Kate blurted out. “Such a notion never entered my head!”

Lady Broome rose, and began to draw the curtains round the bed. “Well, dear child, now that I have put it into your head, consider it! You are four-and-twenty, and have no expectations. You may not be in love with Torquil—I do not require that you should be—but you don’t dislike him, I trust, and if you marry him your future will be assured. More than that: you will be a woman of consequence, for it is not a small thing to be the wife of Broome of Staplewood. Think it over, Kate!”

She bent and kissed Kate’s cheek, and then dosed the curtains, blew out the candle, and went away, leaving Kate in a state of considerable perturbation.

She had never been more thunderstruck, for she knew how large were her aunt’s ambitions, and had supposed that she had set her heart on Torquil’s contracting a brilliant alliance. It was not impossible. He had position, wealth, and an extraordinarily beautiful face; and when he was in a complaisant mood he could be charming. It was unfortunate that he was put out of humour so easily, and was subject to fits of dejection, but these were faults which he could overcome, and no doubt would, as his health improved. Shrewdly assessing Lady Broome, she had supposed that a love of power, rather than of persons, was the motive behind her refusal to countenance his fleeting infatuation for Dolly Templecombe, and her determination to keep him at Staplewood for as long as she could. She was far from being a doting parent: she showed her niece more affection that she showed her son; and although she took meticulous care of him there had been times when Kate could have believed that she held him in aversion. She certainly despised him. Perhaps that was to be expected in a woman who enjoyed excellent health, and had hoped to provide Staplewood with a worthy heir. Kate, herself warmhearted, could not enter into such feelings, but she could dimly perceive that they might exist, just as she could perceive that there might well be jealousy without love. Lady Broome wanted to keep Torquil under her thumb, and would strongly oppose the influence of a wife. Kate could understand that, and had supposed that she might expect to retain her influence for several years. Yet here she was, proposing for him a most ineligible marriage when he was no better than a schoolboy.