She drew his head down, and tenderly kissed his cheek. “Yes, it is a nightmare, but Sarah says things are never quite as bad as one thinks they will be. And also she says it is a great mistake to cross bridges until one reaches them, so—so don’t let us look beyond tomorrow! Go down now to Sir Timothy, my dear one! I’d come with you if I didn’t know that he would liefer by far learn what has happened from you alone. I hope—oh, I pray that the shock may not cause him to suffer another, and fatal heart-attack!”

Not daring to trust herself to say more, she went quickly to her room, and entered it without looking back.

She found Sarah there, unpacking her portmanteau. After one shrewd glance at her, Sarah pushed her into a chair by the window, saying: “Now, you sit there, like a good girl, Miss Kate! I don’t want you under my feet!”

Kate smiled rather wanly, but attempted no argument. She was thankful to sink into the chair, and to lean back, closing her eyes. Sarah continued to bustle about, casting one or two measuring glances at Kate, but saying nothing until Kate presently opened her eyes, and straightened herself, sighing deeply. She then adjured her not to let herself fall into the doldrums. “For if you don’t show Mr Philip a cheerful face, Miss Kate, you’d have done as well, and better, to have left this place, like he wished you to do.” She went to Kate, and began to chafe one of her hands. “You want to look on the bright side, love!” she said. “I don’t say it’s easy, nor that it’s very bright, but things could have been worse! The poor young gentleman won’t ever be shut up now, and if the doctor can be trusted to tell the Coroner, frank and open, that he wasn’t in his right mind when he choked his mother to death, and flung himself into the lake—”

“Oh, if only I could be sure he wasn’t in his right mind!” Kate cried. “But I think he was, Sarah! That’s what has upset me so much. Oh, Delabole will say he wasn’t: I’m not afraid of that! Perhaps—if my aunt had told him he was mad, he lost his senses, but when he saw that he had killed her they came back to him. He wasn’t out of his mind when he drowned himself. Whether he was afraid of the consequences, or—or afraid that he was mad, I don’t know. But I can’t help remembering that he said once, when we were discussing dreams, that sometimes he dreamed he was being chased by a monster, and sometimes that he had done something dreadful. My aunt interrupted him, and I thought no more about it until today. And then I remembered it, and the look on his face—an uneasy, scared look, Sarah! Do you think—do you think he was secretly afraid that he had done something dreadful? When he saw the carpenter nailing bars across his window, did it confirm his fear? If that was so—oh, poor Torquil, poor Torquil, what agony of mind he must have suffered!”

“Now, that’s quite enough!” said Sarah, in a scolding tone. “You can’t know what he thought, nor what her ladyship said to him, and you never will, so there’s not a bit of good to be gained by dwelling on it! If he suffered, it wasn’t for very long—not if Mr Philip was speaking the truth when he said that he looked happy. Didn’t you think he looked happy, Miss Kate?”

Kate nodded, wiping her eyes. “Yes. He’s smiling—as though he had at last found something he had been trying to find for a long, long time.”

“Well, that’s all you’ve got to remember, love. There, you stay quiet till it’s time I made you tidy for dinner! You’re worn out, and no wonder.”

Kate sighed, and closed her eyes again. But presently she opened them, and said, rather drearily: “We shall have to live here, you know. We can’t leave Sir Timothy alone in this dreadful house. And when he dies, it will be Philip’s, and he doesn’t want it, Sarah! And I don’t want it either! It has never been home to me, and now it has become horrible! And everyone will think I married Philip because I was determined to become Lady Broome!”

“I shouldn’t wonder at it if you find you’re wrong,” said Sarah. “I was talking to Mr Pennymore last night, and by what he said it seems her ladyship wasn’t at all well-liked by Sir Timothy’s old friends. Well, it stands to reason they wouldn’t like her, when she kept them away from him! She said it was on account of his always being so poorly, but Mr Pennymore says that it’s his belief—and Tenby’s too!—that it would do Sir Timothy good to see a few people. Just dropping in to have a crack with him, not waiting to be invited to a party! And what’s more he told me that Staplewood hasn’t been a home to him ever since her ladyship made it into a show-place. It’ll be your task, Miss Kate, to make it a home again, and to make visitors welcome, what’s more! As for its being horrible to you, it’s only to be expected you should think so at first, but you can take it from me, dearie, that you’ll get over that. Well, goodness, if everyone felt they couldn’t bear to live in their houses, because something tragic had happened in them, half the big houses in the country would be standing empty!”

Kate smiled, and got up. “What should I do without you, Sarah?” she said. “You have so much sense! I beg your pardon for flying into alt: I’ll try not to be so stupid again. I think the—the things that have happened today have been rather too much for me. I shall be better tomorrow!”

Sarah gave her a resounding kiss. “That’s my good girl!” she said. She was interrupted by a knock at the door, and said: “If that’s Ellen, I’ll send her away!” She went to the door and opened it, saying as she did so: “I’ll attend to Miss—Oh, it’s you, sir! Yes, you can come in!”

“Philip?” Kate cried eagerly. “Come in, come in! How is Sir Timothy? Did you tell him what had happened?”

“I wasn’t obliged to tell him that Minerva was dead. He had guessed it. As soon as I went into his room, he asked me if she was dead, and when I said yes, he sighed, and said that he had feared she must be. Then he said: “Poor soul!” as though she had been a mere acquaintance. But when I told him that there was worse news for him to hear, I saw him brace himself. There was a painful look of anxiety in his eyes, and he lifted his hand, as if to silence me. Then he let it fall, and spoke just oneword—Torquil?”

Kate caught her breath. “Philip, you don’t mean—Good God, did he know that Torquil was mad?”

“Suspected it. He told me that he had asked Delabole for the truth more than a year ago. Delabole reassured him, just as he tried to reassure me. Delabole is very plausible, you know. I think my uncle wanted to believe him, perhaps because he felt helpless, perhaps because the thought that his only son was not of sound mind was so repugnant that he couldn’t bring himself to face it.” He stopped, and said, after a moment: “You know how it is with him—I told you once! His nature is too gentle—too yielding! He can never have been a match for Minerva, and after his health broke down he only wished to be left in peace.”

“I know, I know!” Kate said quickly. “And, indeed, Philip, it is hard to see what he could have done for Torquil, when his health is so precarious, and my aunt was determined that she, and she only, should rule the roast here!”

He smiled gratefully at her, and said: “You do understand, and I needn’t beg you not to think harshly of him.”

“No, that you need not! I couldn’t think harshly of him! But go on! Did he guess that Torquil had murdered his mother? Or had Tenby told him prepared his mind for the shock?”

“No, I don’t think so. If that had been so, he must have known that Torquil had strangled her, and he didn’t know that. When I told him that Torquil had strangled her, in a fit of mania, he changed colour—looked so ghastly that I obliged him to swallow some of his cordial. He was greatly distressed—far more than by the news that Minerva was dead! He said—oh, in an aching voice!—“Poor boy! poor, unhappy boy!” Then, when he had a little recovered, he asked me if I realized what it must mean: that Torquil would have to be put away in some asylum. That was what upset him more than all the rest. When I told him that Torquil was dead, too, he was merely thankful. He said, very frankly, that he had never been able to care for Torquil, as he had cared for little Julian, but that to have been obliged to condemn him to spend the rest of his life in a lunatic asylum would have left him with nothing more to do than to have put a period to his own life. Then, after a little while, he asked me if you were still here, and when I told him, yes, and that you had refused to leave Staplewood, he instantly became more cheerful, and said that you were the silver lining to a very black cloud, and that he need no longer be afraid that he wouldn’t see you again. When I left him, he was quite happily making plans for our wedding! He seems to have set his heart on leading you to the altar, and bestowing your hand on me himself—here, in the Church, as soon after the funerals as may be possible. I told him that I couldn’t answer for you, and if you dislike the idea you mustn’t hesitate to tell me so. It would be a private ceremony, of course: just ourselves, my uncle, Mrs Nidd to support you, and, if I can lure him back from his London dissipations, Gurney Templecombe to support me. Would you like it, or would you prefer to be married in London?”

“Oh, I should much, much prefer to be married here!” she exclaimed, flushing with pleasure. “And for Sir Timothy to give me away! How kind, how very kind of him!”

He turned his head to look at Sarah, a question in his eyes.

“The decision must rest with you, Mrs Nidd. It won’t do for Kate to remain at Staplewood without you to lend her countenance: I know the sort of scandal-broth that all the tattle-boxes brew! Can you stay with us until you’ve seen us buckled, or am I asking too much of you? I know you have your own home to manage, and perhaps your husband might object to it, if you were to extend your stay? Not to mention your father-in-law!”