The Seventh Suitor

by Laura Matthews

  Kate stepped into the icy stream and yelped “Jupiter!” rather dramatically before she became used to the temperature of the water. Actually, she acknowledged to herself, it was quite refreshing after the intolerable sun. She carefully tested the depth of the stream and found that she could stand easily all the way across, though the boulders which were strewn over the bottom did not make easy walking for her tender feet.

  When Kate had wandered downstream a bit and found the deepest spot she could, she attempted to put into practice what she had been reading. It was not so easy as it sounded. Somehow one was expected to coordinate the thrusting forward together of the arms with a quite ludicrous frog-like kick of the legs, quickly following. And this, she thought bitterly, is supposed to keep me afloat. She swallowed a large mouthful of water and struggled to her feet.

  Undaunted, she continued to pursue her attempts until she was managing two or three strokes in a row and was only partially sunk each time. After a while she seated herself on a large sunny boulder and let the sunlight filtering through the trees on the banks warm her. I shall have to work on this for some time if I am to master it, she thought, and the weather is not always so fine. So she determined to work on the stroke a bit longer. As she stepped into the stream once more her foot slipped and she was tossed into the water, her foot lodged between two stones.

  Winterton, who had been peacefully dozing over his fishing pole in the hot sun when he heard Kate’s exclamation upon entering the water, had been roused to wakefulness and had thoroughly enjoyed her self-taught lesson. He was seated some distance down the stream, his boots negligently kicked off, and he had not intended to make himself known. Her struggles galvanized him, however, and she found strong arms lifting her head and releasing her foot. He scooped her up and placed her on the bank in the sun, brushing the dripping hair out of her eyes. She looked at him, grimaced, and said, “Aunt Eleanor warned me not to drown myself.”

  He returned her gaze, noting the muslin garment transparent in its wetness, and exclaimed, “For God’s sake, Kate, put some clothes on!”

  Kate, unaware of how revealing her outfit was, rose unsteadily to her feet and immediately walked away from him, saying haughtily, “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Winterton.”

  Although Winterton wished nothing more than to assure himself that she was all right and to soften his hasty words, he did not dare follow her in her all-but-nude state. His view of her from a distance had been alluring in the cling of the muslin to her body; but he had not been alarmed until he had seen her out of the stream. He watched helplessly as she walked angrily away from him and, since even this view was altogether unnerving, he turned away and stomped across the stream to regain his boots.

  Kate, in high dudgeon, flung on her riding habit, retrieved her horse and book, and rode back to the Hall, heedless of her condition. It was not until she reached her room, careful to avoid everyone in the household, that she relieved herself by swearing in the cheval glass as she changed out of her now-damp riding habit.

  She was arrested by the sight she presented. An alarming blush crept from her neck to the roots of her hair. Oh, God, she thought as she looked on her revealed body. I can never face him again. She stripped the clinging muslin from her and wrapped herself in a towel, as she rubbed furiously with another at her damp hair. How could I be so skip-brained!

  Kate managed to maintain a conversation with her father at dinner on the improvements at Ralph’s farm, but she excused herself soon after to retreat to her room. The scene at the stream went through her mind again and again, each time bringing a blush to her cheeks. She attempted to interest herself in a book, only to put it aside again. At last, before the sun went down, she crawled into bed like a wounded animal and was rewarded by the unconsciousness of sleep.

  Since it was raining the next morning, her first intent, to take a ride, was doomed to disappointment. She rang for her chocolate and sat long in bed sipping it. He would call today. There was really no doubt about it. She could have him refused. That was what she wanted to do, but the hard core of shame of yesterday had given way to a milder embarrassment, as it will when an event is run over frequently enough in the mind. She sighed and determined that she would see him. Much better to get it over with. Reluctantly she climbed out of bed and donned the most demure frock she owned, a flush on her cheeks.

  It was an enormously long morning. She dawdled over breakfast, discussed the day’s work with the upper housemaid who substituted while Butterfield was in London, played the dulcimer softly, and finally wandered into the parlor with a book. When a footman arrived to announce Lord Winterton, she was almost relieved.

  He was rather formally dressed in elegant calling clothes, which stirred a memory in Kate. She could not prevent the blush which colored her cheeks, but she met his eyes unwaveringly. Her greeting was polite and her suggestion that he seat himself accepted. She had seen him suave, had seen him cold, had seen him biting and bitter, and even seen him friendly. She had never before seen him awkward, not even when she had found him in a sheet.

  “I trust you have suffered no ill?” he asked.

  “None.”

  “I have inadvertently compromised you,” he stated abruptly, “and I have come to ask you to marry me.”

  “Fiddlesticks!” she retorted with heat. “Perhaps I compromised you, but I dare say it is not the first time you have seen a . . . woman’s body.” Her color rose alarmingly. “No one knows of the incident, and I feel certain that no one ever will.”

  “Nonetheless it was a most improper situation for us to be in.”

  “Do not trouble yourself over the matter, Lord Winterton. It can be forgotten.”

  “Can it? I doubt it. Come, Miss Montgomery, it is the sensible course for you to marry me. Who knows, perhaps a laborer or farm boy was wandering by. The tale could even now be spreading in the neighborhood.”

  Kate raised her chin. “I shall have to take that chance. I checked quite carefully before I got into the water that there was no one around.”

  “You did not see me.”

  Kate put cold hands to her burning cheeks, and her voice came softly, “You were watching me the whole time?”

  “I was fishing. That is, I had fallen asleep over my pole. I heard you exclaim when you got in the water.”

  “And you did not leave? I find that reprehensible.”

  “I . . . suppose I should have done so. I assure you I was a considerable distance downstream and could not see more than . . . that you were playing in the water.”

  “I was not playing,” Kate flung at him furiously. “I was teaching myself how to swim.”

  “Yes, I know. I will teach you to swim.”

  “I don’t want you to teach me! I want you to leave me alone. I am so mortified! Can’t you see?” she cried in agony.

  He stood and took her hands in his, gently. “There is no need to be. As you say, it is not the first time I have seen a woman so. You were very understanding to me the day you found me in Small Street. I would only return the favor.”

  Kate smiled crookedly up at him. “Then let us have no more talk of marriage, Lord Winterton. It is unnecessary. I shall consider it fit for tat.”

  “And if someone witnessed the scene?”

  “I doubt even marrying you would prevent that gossip. I shall take my chances.”

  “I would rather you did not. I am fully prepared to marry you.”

  Kate tried to read his inscrutable face. “A poor basis for marriage, my lord. I have other ideas of what a marriage should be.”

  “Such as?”

  “For one, mutual respect.”

  “I hold you in high regard.” He witnessed her flashing eyes. “Yes, there is the matter of the inheritance from Carl. As it would become mine on marriage, I would see that it is usefully disposed of.”

  “Never! You shall never touch that money!” she threw at him.

  “You should not have accepted it, or you should have disposed of it i
n a worthy cause,” he snapped at her.

  “You know nothing of the matter, you . . .” Kate could not think of an epithet strong enough to do justice to her emotions.

  “It was not honorable to accept it,” he said flatly.

  Winterton was fully unprepared for the ringing slap she dealt him. When she made to do it again, he caught her wrist in a grip of steel. “That is enough. You should have thought to defend your honor before you accepted my brother’s legacy.”

  “Release me.”

  He loosed her hand, but his eyes remained watchful.

  Kate glared at him and said, “Wait here. I have something you may be interested in.” She spun away from him and hurried from the room. Winterton watched her departure in amusement mixed with despair. He seated himself not altogether comfortably and awaited her return, his eyes wandering to the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. She was gone exactly four and a half minutes.

  Kate thrust two well-worn sheets of paper into his hands and commanded, “Read it, and then leave!”

  Winterton regarded her with puzzled eyes. He had immediately recognized his brother’s handwriting. Kate said again, “Read it!”

  Winterton dropped his eyes to the sheets in his hands and read:

  My dearest Kate, I had hoped that I would make it home so that I might see you again and beg your forgiveness. It is not to be; I know I am dying. I have learned many things since I left home, the most important of which is that I treated you dishonorably. There is not another officer I know who could have done such a thing and I am thoroughly ashamed of myself. I was used to having anything I wanted; Mother and Andrew were perhaps too kind to me. I beg you will disregard the foolish, miserable things I said—my death is of course in no way your blame. I have made a will with a bequest to you which I pray you will accept as a token of forgiveness of me. I cannot bear to think of Andrew and Mother knowing of my villainy, but you are to tell them if you think best. I can write no more. God bless you. All my love, Carl

  Winterton sat perfectly still after he finished reading the letter. He did not raise his eyes when he asked m a choked voice, “He tried to blackmail you into marrying him? By saying his death would be your fault?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you never told me? Why?”

  “Because I knew it would hurt you. You were so proud of Carl. And you should have been. He made a mistake, but he is forgiven. I hope you will forgive him, too.”

  “I spoiled him. He was young when Father died, but that is no excuse. I have been much harder on my wards.”

  “They will reap the benefits of it.”

  “Do your parents know?”

  “No, but my father has a very fine sense of honor, too, Lord Winterton, and he wrote me that I should not accept the money. I was in Daventry then. You had found the sealed letter after I left, and forwarded it on to me, with the scathing note you wrote after reading the will. I assured my father that I had received a last letter from Carl in which my acceptance of the legacy was his dying request. I told him that my sense of honor demanded that I accept it, and he made no further objection.”

  “He would of course accept your word, for he knows you well and respects you.”

  “I did, however, tell Aunt Eleanor and Charity,” Kate continued. “They will allow the information no further. I was upset when I went to them at Daventry, you understand. Before Carl’s letter arrived I was badly shaken. You must realize that I was not yet twenty and for all my bravado in telling him before he left that it was his own decision to join the fighting and I would not hold myself responsible in the event of his death, I could not but believe that if I had married him he would be alive.”

  Winterton’s hands were clenched in fists on his knees. The letter dropped unheeded on the floor, and Kate carefully retrieved it and held it tight. Winterton finally shifted his gaze to her; she had never seen such anguish in a man’s eyes before.

  “I have no right to ask your forgiveness,” he said painfully. “I have wronged you even while you were trying to protect me from this knowledge. I am responsible for Carl’s . . . villainy, too. I will not trespass on your kindness longer.” He rose heavily and bowed to her.

  “One moment,” Kate stayed him. “I only told you now because I . . . could no longer bear your scorn. That was weak of me, for I had never intended to betray Carl and cause you this agony. You have no need of my forgiveness; I have understood all along, you must realize, why you felt as you did. I have chafed under it, but I did not blame you for that so much. But lately . . . it has hurt me, and I did not think Carl would wish me to suffer for his mistake. It was your haughtiness and bitterness that used to make me angry. But you have been kind to me and to my family, and that is all forgotten. I cannot bear for you to leave without hearing that you forgive your brother.”

  Winterton hesitated as he searched her troubled eyes. “I can do no less if you have forgiven him,” he said at last.

  Kate smiled. “Thank you, Lord Winterton. You have made me very happy.” She extended her hand to him and he gasped it firmly. She suddenly remembered why his attire had stirred a memory in her. His younger ward had dressed just so carefully when he had come to propose to her. To avoid the confusion this caused her, she abruptly changed the subject. “Will you send Mr. Single to me again? Aunt Eleanor and I did some work in Daventry, and I would appreciate his assistance.”

  “He has been looking forward to discussing your next project. We didn’t realize until yesterday that you had returned to the Hall. He can bring your copies of the book; I think you will be pleased with the finished product. Mr. Collins was most appreciative.”

  There seemed nothing more for him to say, so he murmured, “I can see myself out.”

  Chapter 19

  When Mr. Single came to visit Kate, he brought her the extra copies of her book which she had ordered, including one for her Aunt Eleanor. After discussing the materials Kate had gathered for the next book and reaching a satisfactory direction for the text, Mr. Single took her in the Earl’s barouche to visit his brother and family in Stasby. Kate was able to satisfy her curiosity about the reading lessons the vicar’s wife gave and to meet her sister, who seemed to be a special object of interest to Mr. Single, Kate noted with a grin. On their drive back to the Hall their discussion turned to Winterton.

  Mr. Single had dropped his bantering tone and commented, “He returned from the Hall the other day . . . disturbed. You did not see fit to give him another trimming, perchance?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Kate answered vaguely.

  Thomas knew when he was being warned off the subject, and he had only broached the matter at all in the hope of understanding the reason for the stricken countenance Winterton had presented that afternoon on his return. Winterton, who was often wont to confide in him, had been equally vague. It was not simple curiosity which prompted Thomas; he was sincerely attached to his employer and was disturbed to find him obviously upset. The only information Winterton had imparted was a flat statement that Miss Montgomery had accepted Carl’s legacy at his dying request and had done so properly. He had not elaborated on this. In itself it was such a turnabout that Thomas was sure there was more to it, but he had made no effort to press Winterton.

  “I’m glad you’ve settled your differences,” Thomas now said simply to Kate.

  “He told you so? I suppose he felt he must if he had made you privy to his previous beliefs.”

  They had arrived at the Hall, and Kate said, “I have taken up far too much of your time today, Mr. Single, but I’m grateful to you.” She started to ascend the stairs, and then bit her lip and turned to him again. “I know you’re fond of Lord Winterton and that you will help him just now. If I . . . can do anything . . . I hope you’ll let me know.”

  “I shall, Miss Montgomery,” he said seriously. When she had entered the house he returned to the barouche, thinking furiously. Good God, had he offered for her and been refused? Somehow his employer’s distress had seemed li
nked with Carl’s legacy to this young woman. It was no use trying to figure it out; he would have to content himself with keeping Winterton busy.

  Thomas arrived at the Manor to find his employer returning from a ride. “You found Miss Montgomery well?” Winterton asked.

  “Very well. We discussed another book, and I took her to visit my brother and talk with his wife about the reading lessons she gives. Miss Montgomery had expressed an interest in teaching her maid to read.”

  “And how are things at the vicarage? Your sister-in-law has not produced the next Single as yet, has she?”

  “Not for a month or so. All are well there. Her sister plans to spend the entire summer with them,” Thomas said casually.

  “I must give you more free time.”

  They were strolling to the house now, and Thomas regarded his employer suspiciously. “I should not take it amiss,” he finally remarked.

  “Did Miss Montgomery . . . oh, hell, Thomas, come into the library with me.” Winterton handed his gloves and hat to the butler before proceeding through the house to his own private retreat, redolent with the smell of leather. He seated himself, stretched out his long legs, and waved Thomas to another chair. “Did she say anything about the other day?”

  “No, she was very reticent, but she voiced her concern for you. I could not help but observe your mood when you returned. I fear I tried to discover its source,” Thomas admitted ruefully.

  “I would have told you, but it is a matter concerning Carl. He did not treat Miss Montgomery fairly when he was courting her.” Winterton attempted awkwardly to circumvent the whole truth.

  “He did not seduce her! She was but a child at the time.” Thomas was aghast.

  “No, no. Nothing of that nature. He . . . attempted to force her to marry him by threatening to join the fighting and get himself killed if she would not.” Winterton raked his fingers through his hair. “He begged her forgiveness in a letter he wrote her when he was dying and asked that she accept his legacy as a token of her forgiveness of him. She has suffered much at his hands, and mine,” Winterton groaned.